#i had three good days in a row last week and shut down for like. five days bc i dont think my body could process it.

[not-actually-human]

maybe its bc its after 10pm but i feel weird

[sc0tters]

Birthday Do Over | Quinn Hughes

summary: it’s Quinn’s birthday and you can’t help but fuel your need to see him.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing?

word count: 1.53k

authors note: I wasn’t going to write this but when the request came in and it being Quinn’s birthday the opportunity was too great to pass up. Kaylin if you see that I used your answers to my cake questions, surprise? This piece is a lot of flashbacks people so pay attention to the regular italics!

You knew you shouldn’t have been doing this.

But as the three red bulls in your system kept you up you couldn’t help it as you stood in the kitchen baking.

October 14th, Quinn’s birthday and his first since you two were no longer talking.

Surely you should have been fine staying at home enjoying the comfort of your bed but instead you were in the bakery.

Quinn watched you start your dream as you bought the bakery but he never got to watch you fully live out the dream as you two broke up before it opened.

So the cake you made was from your memories of what he liked eating at late hours of the night in your apartment.

Bowls of different icing flavours were in a line “why can’t I try it yet? Quinn complained watching your hand swat his away “because I’m not ready so you need to wait.” You explained in a duh tone.

Over the last week you had been building a menu that had each of your favourite flavours that you had made throughout the years, as well as some new ones and those were what he was meant to try.

Quinn let out a huff causing you to smile “shut your eyes.” You brought your spoon into one of the bowls as the boy listened to you.

His eyes screwed shut as his mouth hung open “let me know what you think of when you taste this.” The spoon dropped a bit of icing onto his tongue causing him to close his mouth.

The sweet flavours melted into his tongue as he moved his arms getting excited “that was delicious.” Quinn announced as he opened his eyes to look at you again.

It made you laugh “that isn’t a flavour,” you shook your head as you sent him a look waiting for an answer “give me a hint baby.” The hockey player pouted as he reached over the counter to bring you to him.

His hands wrapped around your waist as you stood between his legs ��it’s this one.” You brought the bowl to his nose but he still couldn’t get it “it’s my take on cream cheese-” the gasp Quinn let out made him sound like a child who just learnt Santa wasn’t real.

You smiled shaking your head “it was cheese!” The American grabbed a spoon again so that he could taste it again.

It was clear that the dials in his brain were turning as he came to terms with it “you make cheese good.” His words made you laugh “you give me too much credit.” You corrected him placing the bowl back on the table.

Quinn brought his hands from your waist to your jaw “don’t think I give you enough at all.” He mumbled running his hand over that bone as you leaned down to kiss him.

Both of you got sucked into it as the world felt like it stopped around you.

But it didn’t and the smoke alarm started going off “shit!” You groaned quickly pulling away from him.

As you whipped your icing you smiled remembering that night in the apartment that you now moved out of with the extra cash you had been making you were able to use to get more space.

It was another reminder of a milestone that Quinn missed yet still it wasn’t out of his own choice.

Part of you should have felt sorry for his neighbours as you two argued for what felt like the twentieth day in a row.

Your hand raked through your messy hair as you tried to remain calm “maybe I should go.” You shrugged avoiding Quinn’s irritated scoff “you always leave when things get fucking tough y/n!” He complained totally unaware of how much smaller you got in that moment.

If you chewed at your cheek any harder you would have drawn blood “look Quinn I love you.” You blurted out as you dug your nails into your palm “but this isn’t working anymore.” The hockey player was your world, that’s what happens when you date someone for three years.

But the reality that the arguments were now outweighing the normal conversations that you two had was weighing on you and the t was no longer at a point where you could act like it wasn’t around anymore “what are you trying to say?” The American knew what you were trying to say but he prayed that this was one time that he was so wrong.

Tears formed in your eyes “this is goodbye Q,” you frowned walking over to him as you pressed your lips against his cheek.

Before Quinn could process that you had left him the door to his apartment shut with a slam.

You were gone.

The final touches always scared you the most. It was like the moments when you screwed here were the ones where you wanted to cry.

Which was why you did a happy dance as Quinn’s birthday message was written out perfectly “perfect!” You smiled placing the piping bag on the table.

Below you sat absolute cake of his dreams, the red velvet cake and cream cheese frosting were complimented by the blue, green and white icing colours that you used.

The gold edible topper balls were for how you saw Quinn. Your shining star that could guide you anywhere.

If you had to find Quinn as a cake you would be looking right at it.

The boy grew impatient as he watched you work “this is an art Quinn.” You explained joy giving him the chance to complain “you put too much pressure on yourself.” You had been tasked with making a cake for Luke’s birthday and you weren’t going to screw this up.

You sent him a look trying to tell him to shut up “I’m trying to make this perfect.” You spoke in a duh tone as you were working on making the icing the perfect shade of red “you could give Luke cake batter and he’d love you.” Quinn’s voice made you laugh as you shook your head.

Luke was definitely the easiest man to impress.

You prayed that Quinn still lived in the same apartment that he was in before the summer. Fears that someone new occupied his home were greater than the ones you held about the ideas of him moving on.

As the sun had barely came over Vancouver you were just grateful that the doorman of the building recognised you because you would have been waiting for hours without him.

It was quiet in the building though as once you stepped into the elevator you hadn’t seen another person. Which is why you thought you were successful in getting to Quinn’s front door unnoticed.

But of course the universe wasn’t going to make your life that straight forward so as you placed the box on his doormat a laugh let you know that you were no longer alone.

Quinn leaned against the wall as he pulled his headphones out of his ears “you’re up early.” He smirked remembering how he could never get you out of bed early.

His bed was warm, and that was your excuse “Quinn!” You groaned reaching out to feel him no longer there “yeah baby?” He smiled seeing your eyes barely open.

Your pout was clear “come back to bed.” You tapped his side of the mattress “I’ve got to get to the rink.” The hockey player sat on your bed next to you as you let your head rest on your pillow once more.

He watched as your breathing slowed once more signalling that you were asleep “I’ll see you soon love.” The boy leaned over to press a kiss to your temple before he quietly tucked you into the duvet letting you bask in the comfort of his beds warmth.

You awkwardly picked the box up “I came to drop this off for you.” You explained turning to show him what you were holding.

Being a hockey player a cake wasn’t something you got in the middle of the season “thank you y/n.” He smiled seeing your cheeks turn red “I should get going.” You sucked at your teeth as you sent him a nod trying to move past him.

Quinn knew that he couldn’t let you leave again “wait,” the hockey player sighed feeling his shoulders grow lighter.

Your nod made him smile “you want to come inside?” Quinn’s offer made him feel nervous as you stayed quiet “I won’t be able to eat this cake by myself and if I get Brock over I won’t get any-” he began to ramble before you cut him off.

The giggle you let out made him go quiet “you know I’ll never say no to cake.” Your confession made him nod as he opened his door “it’s about time we caught up.” The door shut behind you both but this time it wasn’t the end of a chapter.

No this was the start of your second chance, the redo if you will. And this time you two were going to make sure that you didn’t screw it up.

This time was going to count.

[sinsandsweetness]

POKER NIGHT

(Rick x fem!reader x Rosita)

Happy pride month loveys!! I am working on a million things rn but I started this a while ago and thought, what better time to finish it up then now…

Let me know what you think!

warnings: 18+ content. mdni, not really proof read sorry, alcohol comsumption, smutty smutty smut stuff, oral sex, FFM threesome, girl on girl.

“Alright, turn 'em over,” Rick tapped his cards against the coffee table, giving you a playful grin. You, Rosita, Tara and him all turned them over at the same time.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Again?”

“Jeez Rosita.”

She only laughed and collected the pot from the table, pulling the goodies into a pile in front of her.

“That’s like three weeks in a row. I don’t have anything left to even bet on…” Tara complained. Making you all laugh even harder as you sipped on some cherry wine.

“Im giving up. I'm going to bed.” Tara put her arms up in surrender and got up, making her way to the front porch.

“Night!” you called as she put her shoes on.

“Next week? Same time?” She asked and you all nodded, agreeing and giving a thumbs up before she shut the door.

You grabbed the bottle of wine from Rosita and took a swig.

“Another game or are you guys too tired?” You asked.

“I'm not really tired but I think my brain’s definitely done for the day.” Rick grabbed the bottle from your hands, took a swig and passed it back.

“Same here.” Rosita took the bottle back and a long chug. “Let's just sit and drink. Nobody has watch in the morning, right?”

“I’m off till Saturday.”

“Me too.” Rick answered.

“Looks like we can stay up then.” Rosita kicked her feet up and crossed her legs. Sending the wine for another circle around the table.

Two more bottles had the three of you trying your absolute hardest to keep in your drunken giggles.

“No, Rick you don't even know. She had him like this,” Rosita had moved to mount you on your spot beside him on the couch. Being sure to tuck your hands under her thighs as she straddled you. You were trying not to laugh as she was fake swinging at your face with sound effects and everything. “And he literally couldn't move or anything!”

You looked over and Rick was smiling big and leaning even further into the couch, knees spread wide.

“She’s a tough one.” He said, all amused from the show in front of him.

“Yeah she is. Got him real good. Shoulda known not to mess with our girl.”

He hummed in agreement. You looked over and up at him, cheeks all flush from the wine, pupils dilated and glued to you.

Rosita climbed off but plopped down right next to you, legs almost on top of yours. Suddenly extra aware of her touches on your leg.

“Wasn’t the first time she kicked ass. Won't be the last.” She patted your thigh a couple times, and kept her hand there. The action definitely not going without Rick's notice.

“Ohmygosh and then-” She kept rambling. You were sort of lost by the feeling of Rick staring at you. And Rositas thumb rubbing a pattern onto your thigh wasn't helping either.

“Don't you agree? Rick?” Rosita asked, sparking Rick’s attention.

“Hm?”

“That new haul from the Hilltop run? These jeans. Don't they just hug her so nicely?”

He licked his lips and looked right at you, down to your jeans and back up. “Oh. Yeah,” He chuckled. They were looking at each other now, silently agreeing on something. A very interesting cloud of tension filled the air and Rositas hand moved further up your thigh.

“She always looks so good doesn't she?”

Rick sat up, leaning his elbow on his knees.

“So cute, I could just eat her right up.” She leaned in and nuzzled her nose into your neck. You let out a nervous sigh and could actually feel your heart rate start to rise.

“Mhm.” He slowly started running his own hand up your opposite leg.

“No wonder you’re always pulling her away. Taking her on those runs, just the two of you.”

“Can't even blame me can you?”

“I’m right here you guys.” You sounded out of breath, the attention from the two of them making your head feel light. Though it was probably more so the wines fault than anything.

“We know, sweetheart.” Rick tipped your chin towards him and caught your lips with his own, kissing you gently. Rosita took the opportunity to start kissing down your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin on your jaw, and then back down to your shoulder.

Ok. This was happening. Alright.

Rick's hands started at your shirt, lifting and pulling its delicate fabric, up and over your head. While Rosita started on your pants. You didn't even know where to put your hands. It didn't matter much since she just put them where she wanted them anyway. She took you by the hips and pulled you down on top of her, with her back to the cool leather of the living room couch. Pulling on your thighs so you had no choice but to straddle her. She pulled you down to meet her lips. Rick moved to press himself up behind you, hands on your sides, right above rositas.

Grinding you down onto her as you kissed her back. Her tongue exploring your whole mouth, soft, plush lips so warm against your own. She kissed like she knew what she was doing. Which was really no surprise to you. Your own hands, without even realizing, went to unbutton her shirt. Peeling it off as Rick pulled you by the hips, dragging you back towards him. You whined at the loss of contact with Rositas lap, but he just let out an amused huff.

“She can’t have all o’ you.” He teased, pulling your jeans down, so they were around your knees, ass exposed as he palmed it with rough hands.

Rosita smiled up at him and shimmied out of her own pants, positioning herself right in front of you. When you looked up, you saw her cherry stained lips, and when you looked down, you saw her black lace thong.

Wow. Yeah this was definitely happening. The wine must have given you some sort of courage you didn’t even know you had, because you reached forward and pulled her hips towards your face. Looking back for a moment. The heat had already raise to your cheeks and you just needed some sort of reassurance. Rick was smirking and giving you a very approving nod.

“Go on, don’t be gettin all shy on us…” He teased, while his fingers dragged through your wetness. So you turned back and dipped down, to kiss her over the lacy fabric. Her hands went to your hair as you peeled her panties off, kissing her stomach and down further until you heard a real moan. There it is.

You started to lick and lap at her cunt. Trying to replicate the way Rick would always do it to you. The technique was obviously working based on the firm grip she had on your hair and the wetness seeping out onto your chin. Your tongue working her soft folds, sucking on her clit and trying to work out a pattern that would earn the best reaction from her. Whatever got her breathing all heavy and gripping your hair even tighter.

Rick was still behind you, clearly enjoying the show. He’d lined himself up with your own cunt, rubbing his precum around in your slick, before slowly pushing all the way in.

“How is she?” Rick asked from behind you as he started slowly fucking you from behind.

“Uh- so good…” Rosita let her head fall back. Relishing in the feel of your tongue.

“Atta girl.” He praised you, hand reaching around to rub your clit. “Her mouth is just heaven, ain’t it?”

“Uhuh.” Her legs tightened around your head and Rick started to thrust hard enough that you couldn’t help but moan against her. The vibration of your muffled moans made her twitch and already you could feel that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. Rick had the perfect angle to hit your sweet spot with every single thrust, in combination with the circles he was rubbing against your clit. You both knew you wouldn’t last too long.

You felt a little more confident, with the way she was stuttering and cute little sounds were threatening to pour out of her mouth. So you decided to insert your fingers. If you were gonna eat the girl out, you were gonna be damn sure you made her cum.

And you did.

Two digits inside, curling upwards. The sounds of her juices squelching as you sucked on her clit, your own spit starting to run down your chin. Giving every ounce of attention you could possibly give. Even with the man pounding into you. Which by the way, definitely made it ten times more difficult. Because part of you wanted to just close your eyes and let Rick push your face into the carpet and fuck you into a shaky mess. But the other was so drunk off wine and pussy, that you couldn’t, even if you wanted to. Stuck in a determined trance between the two bodies.

You could actually feel Rositas walls tighten around you and you could tell she was close. Your name escaping her lips all rushed and quick, “I’m cumming-I’m cumming I- uh,” and the most adorable, sexy moan left her pretty mouth as she held your face against her cunt. Grinding down onto your tongue as you finger fucked her right through the orgasm. Her shaky breaths matching your own as Rick pulled up on your hair.

You thought your eyes could have rolled back to your brain. The way he twisted you around and kissed you, the taste of Rositas cum still on your lips. Moaning against him, you could feel hands on your breasts. Rosita positioning herself further under you, kissing and sucking at your chest. Gently tugging your nipple with her teeth, while her hand went to replace Ricks, rubbing on your clit. That was it for you. The attention from them both sent you over the edge, moaning into Rick's mouth as your grabbed onto Rositas arm. Rick's own hips stuttered slightly as he released almost at the exact same time.

The three of you caught your breaths in a sweaty, tangled pile on the ground. Drunken, post orgasm smiled were on each of your faces as you slowly pieced your clothes back together. Staying there for a few moments right in between them.

Rick started moving to plant lazy kisses scattering down your neck. Clearly not quite done with the evening, and trying to initiate another round. Rosita noticed and took it as a queue to leave. Not that either of you would have minded her staying. Clearly.

But regardless, she got up to gather her stuff. Dressed and ready to head back to her house.

“I’ll see you next week, sweetie,” she dipped down to kiss your cheek. Blushing hard as she walked away.

“G’night, Rick.” She winked at him and waved at you both from the porch, closing the door behind her.

You didn’t know if you wanted to wait a full week.

[ladykailitha]

Exit Eddie Pursued by a Steve Part 1

Hello and welcome to one-shot Saturdays, the day I put out short completed (most of the time) fics for you wonderful readers.

This week we have the completed Smut to Fluff fic I had been working on on WIP Wednesdays. This has three parts. I started writing part four last Wednesday but it got angsty and not where I wanted the story to go. So those extra bits have been saved for another story somewhere down the line that it fits better in.

18+ under the cut.

****

Eddie had been on his way to the band room for his weekly “meeting” of the Hellfire Club. They had to have in there this week due to the unfortunate fact that the school musical was currently being preformed and they actually needed the drama room closet.

Suddenly a gaggle of people came tearing out of the stage in a hurry. The last of which was someone in a large red wig and bright yellow dress. But Eddie knew those hazel eyes anywhere.

He let out a low whistle. “Looking gorgeous there, Harrington.”

Steve skidded to a stop in his kitten heels and turned to see who had cat-called him.

“Yeah?” Steve said to him under half-shut eyes. “You like what you see, Munson?”

Eddie gave an appraising glance up and down. “I do indeed.”

“Too bad I have to change out of it,” Steve teased.

Eddie shook his head sadly. “Now, why would you want to go and do a thing like that?”

Steve laughed. “Because I’m in the next scene, and I ain’t wearing this!”

Eddie laughed, too. “Damn shame.”

Steve looked around and then hurried over to him. “If you like it that much, meet me after the play.”

He winked and then gathered up his skirt and ran for the changing room.

Eddie was still standing there when Jeff, Gareth, and Brian came up behind him.

“Who was the broad?” Brian asked.

Eddie licked the top row of his teeth. “That was no broad, gentlemen. That was King Steve in a ballgown.”

“Wait, what?” Jeff asked, his face screwed up in confusion. “No way.”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie hummed. “And I’m pretty sure he just asked me backstage after the play for a little action.”

All three other boys turned to him in shock.

“Ain’t no way,” Gareth hissed. “It’s probably some prank to have the basketball team jump you or something.”

Eddie grinned. “Come on, boys. We’ve got dragons to slay before they kick us out of the band room, too.”

They all followed him to the band room, a little confused on what just happened.

*

Steve waited nervously after getting one of the orchestra to help him back into the dress. The wig and makeup were gone, as were the shoes. Those things pinched.

His dress swished back and forth as he paced, wringing his hands.

“Oh.”

Steve stopped pacing and turned to the open door. Eddie stood there with an expression that Steve couldn’t quite make out.

“I have to know before we do this,” he rambled. “Are you wanting to do this because you thought I was beautiful as a girl? Or because you thought I looked beautiful in the dress?”

Eddie paused for a moment. “That is a very important distinction and one you are right in asking, sweetheart.”

Steve blushed deeply.

Eddie crowded his space and lifted his chin gently, “You look beautiful, Stevie.”

He gasped and Eddie dived on in, pressing their lips together. Instantly, Steve’s tongue tangled with his.

Eddie pulled away reluctantly. “We are definitely doing this.”

Steve nodded. “Just try not to get anything on the dress itself, otherwise I’ll be murdered by the drama teacher.”

Eddie chuckled darkly. “You’ve got it, babe.”

*

When Eddie walked in the room, Steve appeared coy. Shy even. And then when Steve asked why he was interested in fucking him in that dress, he suddenly got it.

“Anyone ever take care of you, Stevie?” he murmured, slowly pulling up the folds of the dress to get at those delicious thighs.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve only had sex with girls. They tend to expect you to do all the work.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Eddie cooed. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”

Steve threw his head back and moaned as Eddie caressed the sides of his thighs.

“That’s it,” Eddie purred, mouthing along the expanse of Steve’s neck, “you sound so good.”

He tucked the dress behind his beautiful cock and sank to his knees.

Steve’s hands immediately buried into Eddie’s hair, pulling him all the way onto his cock.

Eddie lifted one of Steve’s legs and tucked it over his shoulder. He took the spit and slick from his blowjob and coated his fingers.

He pressed one finger into Steve and the boy let out the most delicious sounds.

Eddie wished he could swallow them up, but he would have to settle for swallowing Steve down entirely.

He continued to open Steve up and suck him off. Suddenly Steve was coming in ribbons down Eddie’s throat.

Eddie stood up and kissed Steve dirtily, mouth still slick with his cum.

Steve let out a low whine, taking in as much of Eddie as he could.

Eddie gathered up the skirt of the dress and pressed into to Steve’s hands. “Hold on tight to that, darling. We don’t want to get anything on it, right?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie lined himself up and slowly pierced Steve’s ass.

“Eddie!” he cried. “Oh god!”

Eddie took that as encouragement and slid all the way to the hilt.

Steve wanted to gripped the back of Eddie’s shirt and fist his hair, but his hands were occupied by the skirt of his dress. He held on tight, barely holding on as Eddie fucked him wildly.

Soon Eddie was coming into Steve, in rough, hopeless waves.

Steve let out a breathless sigh. “God, oh fuck.” He moved to lower his hands but Eddie stopped him.

“We need to get you out of this dress first, darlin’,” he murmured into Steve’s ear, “then you can lower your arms, all right?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Eddie giggled at how far gone Steve was. He removed the dress and hung everything up their proper places, while Steve laid there prone, panting for air.

Once Steve was able to catch his breath, he asked, “How did you know where everything went?”

Eddie turned back to him with a grin. “This is where my club meets for D&D. Hellfire, ever heard of it?”

Steve nodded. “I’ve got these kids I babysit that love that game. It’s all they’ve been talking about when it comes to picking out classes and clubs for next year.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow and sat down to watch Steve clean up himself and get dressed. He wondered where it was all going to go from there. Would Steve throw him out? Punch him? Mock him?

“I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else,” Steve muttered darkly as he ran his hand through his hair. He stood there in sweatpants and ratty old sweater, looking every bit as beautiful as he had in the dress.

Eddie grinned. “Yeah, big boy? How’s that?”

“I don’t think I’ve come so hard in my life.”

Eddie cackled. “Right back atcha, sweetheart.”

Steve blushed and walked over to stand between Eddie’s legs. “We’ve had dessert, what would you say to a late dinner?”

Eddie smiled up at him and then pulled him down for a kiss. “Sounds perfect, Stevie.”

*

“I call bullshit,” Brian said the next morning at their lockers when Eddie told them. “There is no way you sucked Harrington’s dick.”

“Did a slight more than that, Bri,” Eddie crowed.

Jeff frowned. “Prove it.” He jutted his chin across the hall. “There’s your boy as you say. Go get him.”

“And even if it is true,” Gareth growled. “There is no way he’d associate with you in the middle of the whole fucking school. He’s going to break your heart and we’ll have to pick up the pieces.”

“Watch and learn, boys,” Eddie said.

He strutted across the hall to Steve and placed his hand on the locker by Steve’s head.

Steve turned around. “Oh, hey, Eddie.”

Eddie smirked. “Morning, princess.”

Steve leaned against the lockers and laughed. “I’m the ugly step-sister, remember. Not the princess.”

“You were as pretty as one last night,” Eddie teased.

Steve grinned and put his arms around Eddie’s neck. “Hmm...that kind of talk is what got us in that position in the first place.”

Eddie grinned right back, putting his hands on Steve’s waist. “You saying flattering works on you, sweetheart?”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “I’m saying it doesn’t hurt.”

They kissed.

“Am I going to see you at lunch?” Eddie asked, pressing their foreheads together.

Steve shook his head. “You have first lunch and I have second.”

“So cruel,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing a patch of bare skin between Steve’s jeans and where his sweater had risen up because of his arms around Eddie’s neck.

“I’ll see you after school, okay?”

Eddie nodded. “It’ll be torment until I see you again.”

“For me, too,” Steve breathed.

And then Eddie was digging his fingers into Steve’s sides, tickling him.

“Eddie!” Steve protested, laughing.

Eddie leaned forward and kissed the smile off his face. “Later, Princess.”

“Later, Eds.”

Eddie turned and walked away.

“Eddie!” Steve called out. “Catch!”

Eddie managed to catch whatever it was on sheer instinct. He looked at it to see that it was Steve’s varsity basketball ring.

“Hold on to that for me,” he said with a smile. “It’s special to me.”

Eddie saluted and practically skipped back to his friends.

Steve laughed, shaking his head fondly.

****

Part 2 Part 3

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1

[spamsmcgee]

So yeah because of the dad yuki what about a fic about the reader and yuki finding out that they are pregnant because the reader felt sick and everything and yeah so super fluffy.

Thx

You get it. 😌

You didn’t skip out on races. Every weekend you were in the garages watching Yuki’s drive.

Last week you got sick and stayed home. This week, you’re still sick. So from Italy, you’re watching the Japanese Grand Prix. Half asleep and still nauseous.

You don’t finish it, before the 20th lap you fall asleep. The kind of sleep where you don’t really know where you are when you wake up.

You wake up to Yuki sat next to you, a hand on your back. In the light that’s drilling into the deepest parts of your eyes, you can kind of make out a box in his other hand. Unable to decipher what’s on the box when your eyes finally adjust, you search around in the blankets for your glasses.

formulawhat

formulawhat PSA: Second race in a row that Y/N hasn’t been seen. WHERE is my mom??

uhohspaghettio I can’t be a child of divorce.

formulawhat This can’t be happening 😭

wompsquared Wellllll they did get married last year…….

uhohspaghettio Wait-

formulawhat Baby Tsunoda?? yourinsta PLEASE come back.

waewaewae When the world needed her most, she vanished

“I can’t see, oh god”

“You’re fine, lay back”

His voice is low, he’s careful with you. He’s normally careful when you get sick. It takes a lot to put you down for more than maybe a day at a time.

His fingers brush your hair from your face.

“What’re you thinking?” You ask, sitting up despite him urging you not to.

“I talked to your mom,” his attention is back on the box in his hand, “she said she got sick like this when she was pregnant with you.”

“How long have you been sitting on this?”

“Since last weekend?”

“So you went out, still in Australia, and got some pregnancy tests?”

“Mom got them,” he stared down at the box, messing with the tape holding it shut, “had them waiting for me the moment I landed in Japan.”

You pull yourself up, leaning against him. “We don’t need to worry about that,” you take the box and set it behind you, “I just caught a bug.”

He doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look up at you. Just continues, staring down at his hands. Those wheels in his head turning.

“I’ll take one just to prove it,” you one up the box and grab a test out, waving it in front of him.

His smile is soft. You can’t decipher what it is he’s thinking. While usually you can read him like a book.

“When was your last period?”

You resort to counting on your hands. You attributed it to stress. With the work you’ve been doing, busy season at your accounting firm and whatnot.

And that slight weight gain? You work an office job. You always end up gaining some weight during the busy season.

“Not since last season ended, right?”

His expression still unreadable, as he sets a hand on your arm. His thumb rubs circles into your skin. A second goes by before you’re up and in the bathroom.

Waiting those three minutes is odd. You left the stick on the counter in the bathroom, the two of you sitting on the bed.

Staring. At each other.

“It’s probably ready now.”

His hand leaves your knee to gesture to the bathroom.

“You do it I’m nervous.”

He nearly trips into the bathroom door. He’s yelling at you from the bathroom. Those unreadable expressions and nervous fidgeting come together. They make more sense now.

He almost seems relieved, when he’s picking you up off of the bed.

“He’s not gonna be a race car driver.”

Yuki rolls his eyes. “She’s gonna be the next Ayrton Senna”

He sits down, still holding onto you. One hand is at your waist, the other combing through your hair. His eyes staring into yours, shifting from one to the other.

yukitsunoda0511

Liked by pierregasly

yukitsunoda0511 mom’s alive.

yourinsta Traveling. Not good for the baby.

formulawhat BABY TSUNODA

lewishamilton Can’t wait to see the kiddo around the paddock!

maxverstappen1 Knew it.

uhohspaghettio Baby bat 😌

[annaisabookworm]

Going to the Eras Tour with Theodore Nott head cannons.

A/n this is my first time ever writing so I’m really nervous but a little excited!

“Oh cara Mia….” Theodore’s jaw drops and his eyes turn into cartoon hearts he becomes a golden retriever when he sees you step out of the hotel bathroom in the outfit you’ve put your blood sweat in tears to, you’ve worked on it for MONTHS and learned how to sew for it.

Oh and he tells you. He won’t shut up about how good you look for FOUR HOURS your face is flushed and so so so red and he just chuckles

When you get to the stadium you of course bring all your bracelets that you’ve spent moths making and you bring hundreds of them on binder rings and Theodore’s honestly shocked to see how popular you get as soon as you show up outside the stadium

Every single swiftie compliments your outfit within minutes it seems your hundreds of bracelets have been traded and people regardless give you so many bracelets theodores arms become covered in them aswell some even ask if they can get a picture with you and you smile and nod

When you get to your seats on the floor theo smiles and laughs at your jaw drop shock

“What you didn’t think I’d get the best for mia cara” he says kissing you and giving you the biggest grin ever.

“theodore we’re in the freaking front row” your in a total state of shock it’s a bigger deal to you than if he were to be proposing.

If the day couldn’t get any better after you posted a photo of yourself at the eras tour TAYLOR FREAKING NATION reposted YOU. Theodore knew how big of a deal this was since you’ve been hyper fixated on the eras tour for weeks

You SCREAM the absolute LOUDEST during the man because during your time at Hogwarts (you’re currently a sixth year) you’ve faded a lot of unfair sexism (theo would never-) Theodore however just sat down during that song seemingly knowing his place

It’s safe to say this was the best concert of your life and you cry tears of joy during every song and lose your voice for a week after.

Theodore gathers confetti in the merch bags(he bought you everything even though you told him not to) for you while you savor the last moments

Your feet start to hurt because of the gorgeous boots you’ve worn for three hours and he picks you up as your a paper weight and carries you all the way back to the hotel despite your protests

It’s safe to say that’s the best night sleep you’ve ever had and the best night of your life

Theo is so in love with you and has the biggest smile ever on his face for you while you cuddle with him in the hotel.

In the moring Theodore is awoken with the loudest happiest scream you’ve ever had. You’ve never been so happy tears fall down your face of joy and you silently unable to speak bc of your voice show with your shaking hand the notifications from Taylor mother freaking Swift. On your Instagram is a photo of you and Theodore smiling the happiest you’ve ever been and there is a like and comment from TAYLORSWIFT13 saying “OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU! ❤️” and Theodore’s jaw drops. He knows you’ll never shut up about it ever again

“oh Merlin, you’re gonna marry me now that Taylor Swift liked a photo of us aren’t you” he says teasingly and you nod laughing silently

The end <3

[maybe-limerence]

“Streaming services,,

Yan! Pervert x Cam girl! Reader

T//W: smut, yandere typical creepiness, fem reader.

A//N: Hey, first time I posted a mostly smut fic. Tell me what you think, I’m not sure I’m happy with it tbh. If I’m being honest, I wrote this cause I needed the spice practice. I’d appreciate feedback, but anyway, enjoy. Ily!!

Yan! Pervert, with a crippling porn addiction. He consumes it like he consumes air. His mind is so full of pornography that he can’t remember what time it was five minutes ago, but the porn video he watched three weeks ago is still clear.

Yan! Pervert, who is incredibly intelligent. Like, can hack into the government and completely destroy or rebuild a nations economy smart.

Yan! Pervert, who could be doing something productive. Who could be doing something with his life. But he browses through porn sites.

Yan! Pervert, who’s rich. Rich rich. And no one knows how, considering he just sits at home and watches porn or reads erotic books.

💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷

Cam girl! Reader, who started because the job she was working at didn’t pay well. She was overqualified, underpaid, and stressed the fuck out.

Cam girl! Reader, who after a few weeks became incredibly popular. It was to the point that camming was making more money than her day job.

Cam girl! Reader, who gained more and more followers and started collaborating with other cam girls.

Cam girl! Reader, who caught the eye of Yan! Pervert when Yan! Pervert’s favorite cam girl (who he doesn’t remember the name or user tag of) collaborated with you.

🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚

“H-ah~. Oh f-fuck,” you whimpered.

Head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut so tight tears started streaming down your face. This had been your 5th? 6th??Orgasm. In a row too.

Your poor abused cunt. The machine you bought was powered off donations, and it seems like someone wanted you to lose your mind.

💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷

On the other side of the screen was your biggest fan! Yan!Pervert loved donating money to you, and since you got that fuck machine? He was being extra generous.

While he know the streak was going to end soon, he chuckled to himself. The stream was going to end for others, not himself. He had hacked into your webcam a long time ago.

He noticed your time running out. He donated $500 to speed the machine up, quickening up the pace to make sure you cum one last time.

🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚

“Oh my, FUCK!” you cry out, feeling another orgasm in your stomach. The machine quickened almost impossibly fast. All you could do was claw at your sheets and let out a chant of fuck fuck fucks.

You were so overstimulated it hurt. Yet, it hurt so good. Your vision blurred and you let out a mix of a scream and a whine as you felt a wave of pleasure rush through your veins.

Right when you were about to start blacking out because of the stimulation the stream ended, and the machine stopped.

💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷

It took you 5 minutes and 59 seconds for you to unmount, Yan!Pervert counted. He did well, making you feels so good you had to steady yourself for almost 6 minutes.

Of course, you’d never know of him. Sure, he was perverted, but he knew what he was doing was wrong. He had a moral compass, and he knew stalking a cam girl wasn’t a good thing.

[nalgenewhore]

stubborn love

elide x lorcan, modern au/coworkers + semi-established + sickfic <3 word count: 4070

She managed to contain herself until Darrow left her office, but the minute the glass door swung silently shut behind him, Elide slumped down on her desk. The cool wood offered a small relief against her heated cheek.

Her peace shattered less than a minute later when someone re-entered her office. Elide forced herself to sit up. The quick change in positions made her dizzy, and she blinked hard a few times. Finally, her gaze focussed on Aelin, who was looking at her like something was very, very wrong. 

Elide suppressed a feverish chill. “Is something wrong?”

“Um, yeah,” her coworker exclaimed, rounding the table with outrage twisting her face. Aelin reached forward and pushed her hand against Elide’s hot face. “Fuck, El, you’re burning up. How did you even make it out of your apartment?”

Flapping her hand dismissively, Elide said, “It’s only a cold.”

Aelin gave her a look, “It was a cold last week, but you couldn’t take it easy and insisted on being in court for eight hours a day three days in a row.”

Before she can say something in her defence, Elide’s poor body was wracked with a coughing fit. It rattled the mucus in her lungs, and she didn’t protest when Aelin passed her a box of tissues to wipe her mouth. “I’m fine,” Elide wheezed. “Just tired.”

“Elide—”

“I’m really, really ok,” she insisted. She braced her hands against her desk to rise to her feet. “And I have to be in court in an hour.” For the past month, she’d been busting her ass over this case, and she’d be damned if she didn’t show up all because she had a sniffle.

Aelin guffawed, “You can’t possibly think you can go to court right now.”

Elide arched her brow as if to say Well? She shouldered her leather briefcase. At least today was only the arraignment, so Elide didn’t have to lug an attché of heavy, heavy files to the courthouse. “It’s my job.”

“Let your boyfriend do it,” her friend held a hand up to Elide’s guffaw. “And you look like you’re on death’s door.”

Her cheeks flushed at the mention of Lorcan. Elide looked at the floor, mumbling, “He’s not my boyfriend.” They had only been seeing each other for about a month. Even if Elide could admit to wanting to call him her boyfriend, she didn’t know that he’d like it. She hauled against her office door, then stood still as Aelin walked out. “If it means that much to you,” Elide said, trying to hide how shallow her breaths were, “I’ll take the day off after the arraignment.”

Before Aelin could argue against that, a deep voice interrupted them. “Hey. You ready to go?” Lorcan stopped just outside her office, looking at something on his phone.

Elide pinched the bridge of her nose to alleviate the pressure from the sinus build-up. “Yeah, just a minute.”

Lorcan frowned as soon as she faced him. “What the fuck happened to you,” he asked bluntly. He never was one for meaningless pleasantries, unless it was only them. Elide preferred thinking that what he said then wasn’t meaningless, though.

“It’s called a cold,” Elide informed him.

He pocketed his phone, running a critical eye over her. In a low tone, he asked her again, “Lee, are you sure?” He looked up at Aelin, who shook her head, before looking back at Elide. “You don’t look so good.”

Elide felt far too exhausted to argue anymore, but she dipped her chin once, “I’m sure.”

✵✵✵✵✵

In the underground parking garage, Elide hadn’t put up any fight when Lorcan insisted that he was driving them. 

They were stuck in a classic downtown Orynth gridlock. She slumped to the side, the window cold against her cheek.

“Lochan,” he said, obviously conflicted. “Please just let someone take you home.” He reached over and laid a heavy hand on her thigh. “I’ll take care of the arraignment.”

Elide hacked once, her stomach aching. “What,” she wheezed as she attempted an easy smile, “you still haven’t learned to share, hmm?” Her breath caught in her tender lungs.

“Elide.”

She gripped his hand, squeezing once, “You can take me home after.” He seemed mollified by that, at least enough to let Elide rest in silence. She never let go of his hand either.

Her eyes had only been shut for a minute, she swore, before someone was gently shaking her shoulder. 

Elide gasped, her lungs too feeble to let her get a full breath. She pressed her hand to her chest like it would make her lungs work.

A warm hand rubbed her back, accompanied by a deep voice. “Slow down. Just take slow breaths.” Elide did as Lorcan encouraged her to, and in a couple moments, her lungs had cleared enough. She collapsed against him to recover, breathing as deeply as she could. “We’re here.”

“Mmm, here, where?” she murmured, too comforted by his touch.

He chuckled a bit, “The courthouse.”

“Oh,” she hummed. Then it hit her, and Elide jolted, “Oh, shit!” She shoved the passenger door open, swinging her legs around. 

Palms flat against the hood of the car, Elide was wracked with feverish chills and glared half-heartedly at him. “Why did you let me fall asleep?” 

“‘lide, it’s ok,” Lorcan told her. “It was only a couple minutes.” He didn’t even let her look at her briefcase and shouldered it himself. 

Elide was sick enough that she let him do it without a fight.

They made their way slowly to the courtroom and met their client outside. Up until today, it had been mainly Elide conversing with the young woman. For all his prowess as an attorney, Lorcan had piss-poor social skills on a good day. However, Elide had to spend all her energy on not passing out and not erupting into another coughing fit, so she let Kaltain suffer through a few awkward minutes with Lorcan.

Luckily, they were summoned quickly. Elide sighed as the air conditioning hit her face. She got to sit, but only for a few minutes before the bailiff announced the judge. 

The courtroom spun as she rose to her feet. Elide swayed, catching herself on the edge of the table. She breathed hard, blinking to centre her vision. Her periphery started to darken. “Lor…” she spoke up weakly, her shaky fingers twisting into the hem of his suit jacket. “I don’t feel- I’m…”

The next thing Elide knew, she was seated outside the courtroom, head between her hands. Her tailor-made blazer laid on the bench next to her because she was burning up. 

Lorcan sat beside her, his body angled towards her. He rubbed her spine up and down, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“We have work,” Elide protested. 

He was pissed, that was evident enough. “I don’t fucking care. You passed out.” He steered her down to his car, tucked her in the passenger side, and did her seatbelt up for her. Lorcan made sure she was alright before he took his seat behind the wheel.

Elide couldn’t let her duty go, not yet. She gestured behind them as he drove out of the parkade, “We- what about Kaltain?”

“The judge excused us till a later date.”

“Oh.” Elide shrunk a bit in her seat, cheeks burning for a reason besides her fever. What he’d told her earlier finally registered in her scattered mind. “I fainted?”

Lorcan reached for her hand, slipping his fingers through hers. He lifted their joined hands to kiss her knuckles and made Elide smile faintly.

✵✵✵✵✵

In the waiting room, Elide attempted to fill out the form herself, but Lorcan took one look at her shaking hand and said, “C’mere, give me that.” He sat in the uncomfortable chair next to her and let her slump against him. “Alright…” Lorcan perused the form, filling it out with no fuss. 

Elide watched him through slitted eyes. If she wasn’t so sick, she would mention something about his lack of hesitation. At points where Elide was sure he’d pause, ask her for a tidbit of personal information, Lorcan penned in the answer with his neat, concise script.

He wrapped his arm around her after handing the form at the ER desk. Idly, Lorcan kissed the top of her head. “They’ll see us soon, sweetheart.” She hummed, barely conscious against him. 

Lorcan was right, and they were shown into an exam room quickly.

Elide laid on the padded table in a thin hospital gown after the exam. She felt delirious as she scrolled on her phone, not listening to the doctor after it was determined she had bronchitis. Her temperature clocked in at thirty-nine degrees, her blood pressure was worryingly low, and her heart rate was sky-high. In spite of it all, Elide could not care less.

The doctor directed her spiel to Lorcan, giving him explicit instructions Elide was sure he’d follow strictly. He was given a slip of paper with her prescriptions on it. 

After a little while, the doctor left, and Elide griped as she had to redress in her corporate attire. Lorcan sympathised a bit, giving her a kiss on the forehead. She blinked blearily up at him, so damned tired and cold. He ran his fingers through her wavy hair. “I’m going to drop you off, then go get your medicine, alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Elide rasped, her lungs rattling. “You don’t need to stay with me. I don’t want to bother anyone.”

Lorcan gave her a look of shock. “You’re not bothering me. Why would you think that?” Without waiting for any answer, he continued on, “I told Darrow, and you’re not allowed to even look at a file until you’ve been cleared by the doctors.”

She made a face, turning her head into his chest. Never before had she been this clingy with him, but she’d wanted to be. It wasn’t like Lorcan never offered her unsexual comfort either. “I don’t wanna go to my apartment,” Elide muttered.

He rubbed the back of her neck, soothing her, “You wanna go to mine instead?”

She nodded. She wanted to be surrounded by his comfort, his presence, not return to the pit that was her apartment. 

This time, Lorcan was more patient as he took her back to the car. He didn’t go as far as carrying her, but Elide could tell he wanted to. It didn’t take them long at all to get to his place. 

All of her energy had already been spent, and Elide barely had it in her to walk from the elevator to his door, much less get changed. Lorcan was gentle with her as he exchanged her sweat-damp clothes for a loose t-shirt and a pair of his boxers. 

She climbed into his bed, sighing at the feel of indulgently soft sheets and thick, yet fluffy pillows. Before she could stop him, Lorcan walked out. Elide croaked, too tired to call out. 

He returned after a minute with a thermometre. “Let me take your temp, and then you can sleep, sweetheart.”

Elide rolled her eyes, but she let him stick it beneath her tongue. It beeped after a minute or so, and Lorcan let her recline again. His mouth tightened, “Mmm, still too high.” He brushed her hair back. She hummed, leaning into his touch. “I’ll go get your meds now. What d’you want for dinner?”

“Not hungry.”

“You have to eat something,” he told her, still brushing his hand over her hair. “I’ll go by the deli if you want, get you some soup.” At that, Elide’s eyebrows rose high, and she looked thoughtful. Lorcan bit back a grin. He leaned down to kiss her temple. “Anything else?”

She smiled, “Coffee ice cream.”

“As you wish.”

✵✵✵✵✵

At the pharmacy, Lorcan was somewhat worried that there would be an issue with him picking up Elide’s meds. Yet, everything went smoothly. He went to the deli and to the convenience store for her ice cream. 

When he got home, Elide was still sleeping.

Lorcan let her be for a little while more as he got changed. He put the kettle on to brew some white willow bark tea as well as some honey-lemon. The pharmacist had given him an antibiotic, steroids, an inhaler, and some cough syrup with codeine. Elide wouldn’t like being woken up, but Lorcan had designated himself the role of her nurse, and he’d be damned if she didn’t get better. He knew her infection could turn into pneumonia quickly.

He padded into his bedroom with her collection of meds. Lorcan leaned over her, “‘lide, wake up.”

Elide groaned into his pillow in a very clear ‘fuck off’ gesture. 

Lorcan rubbed her back, coaxing her to roll over. He grinned at her peevish expression, “Hi, baby.”

Again, she groaned and tried to roll back over. 

“Uh-uh, c’mere,” he said, gently stopping her. Lorcan eased her up and wrapped his arm around her. “C’mon, lean on me.” 

As soon as she was seated, another coughing fit stunned her. Elide let a few tears escape, utterly drained. Her joints were throbbing, her head swimming. It hurt to stop coughing, but it hurt more to keep going. 

Lorcan gave her the inhaler first, and she panted around the taste of albuterol in her mouth. It helped her breathe a little more easily, though. “Here,” he picked up the bottle of cough syrup, cracking the lid. He poured out a tablespoon.

Elide sniffed at it distrustingly, then shook her head. “Smells gross.”

“Yeah, but you got that good shit with codeine.”

She rose a brow, looking at him with a small smile. Lorcan chuckled, then Elide dutifully downed the sickly sweet syrup. The synthetic cherry taste made her stick out her tongue in disgust, shuddering, “Nasty.”

“It’ll help,” he told her. 

And he was right. Elide barely made it through her soup, a round of her antibiotics and steroids, and a bite of ice cream before she fell asleep against Lorcan.

✵✵✵✵✵

The next couple days passed in a haze for Elide. Her fever persisted, making her brain fuzzy and unable to properly register what was happening outside of the periphery of her consciousness. Lorcan had relented after thirty-six hours, letting her move from his bed to his living room couch. He’d taken the week off of work to dote on her.

At first, she’d protested that, but he quickly shut that down. Elide decided if he insisted on fussing, then she would take full advantage of it.

Currently, she was curled in the corner of the couch. She sat supported by the armrest because she could breathe better upright. 

Elide coughed into her clenched fist, wheezing. The Twilight Saga: Eclipse played on the TV. She knew it was only because she was miserably ill that Lorcan hadn’t complained when she declared they were to have a Twilight marathon.

Lorcan came over from the kitchen with a new cup of tea. “How you feeling?”

“Horrible,” she said. She shuffled over to make room for him. After he sat, Elide crawled into his lap. She rested her face against his neck, her breathing congested. “This sucks.”

“I know,” he told her. Lorcan helped her sip some of her tea. “You should have a bath or shower after the movie’s done. Steam all that crap out of your head.”

Elide grinned lewdly, her head lolling back against his shoulder. “Someone’s eager to get me naked and wet, eh?” Her laughter was a wet, phlegmy rasp. 

Lorcan arched a brow at her, clearly unimpressed by her brush with comedy. She chuckled to herself as she drank the rest of her tea, and he just played with her hair.

Ten minutes later, Elide nestled closer to Lorcan. Sudden chills had come over her, making her shiver. “You cold?” He bent his head to look at her. 

She nodded.

“Alright.” He shifted her in his arms, then got up with her cradled against his chest. Lorcan carried her to his luxurious bathroom. It had a tub big enough to hold both of them reclined with room to spare, complete with jets and heated tiles.

As he prepared to draw her a bath, Lorcan set Elide down. He got her a fresh towel and hung it on the heated towel rack. Elide watched him with slitted eyes. Over the past few days, he’d done everything in his power to make sure she wanted for nothing. She could hardly move without Lorcan bringing her more tea or her favourite foods. When he brought her her medicine, he gently coaxed her to take it.

Elide didn’t know how to take it. On one hand, she liked this kind of treatment, but on the other, she had no idea what it meant. It could’ve just been because she was sick, so she didn’t want to ask about it.

Lorcan turned away from her as she got undressed, even though he was very well acquainted with her bare body. Elide thought his attempted chivalry was too funny, but she kept her thoughts to herself. He didn’t turn back until she was submerged in the steaming water up to her head. 

He brought her a glass of water so she wouldn’t overheat. He took her temperature again. 

“Better?” Elide croaked. “I feel better than yesterday.” She hadn’t moved all day, trapped in feverish hallucinations between Lorcan waking her up just long enough to take her medicine. 

“Mmm, yeah. Down to thirty-eight.” He smiled briefly. “We’ll break this fever soon.”

Elide lifted her hand, catching his. She smiled at him, “Good.”

After her bath, she felt drowsy, so he carried her back to bed. She took her meds, then reclined against a strategically constructed mound of pillows. Lorcan joined her, winding his warm body around her to ward off any chills. 

✵✵✵✵✵

Her fever stayed down overnight, although Elide woke up feeling like her lungs had been scrubbed with sandpaper. She was alone in bed, Lorcan elsewhere in the apartment. Elide’s entire body ached like she’d just run a marathon.

“Lorcan,” she croaked. “Lor…”

She could hear his footsteps jogging across the apartment before he appeared in the doorway. “Hey, you’re awake.” Lorcan came over to her side with a steaming mug. He helped Elide sit up before handing her the cup of elderberry and lemon tea. As she took a sip, Elide coughed with a whimper. He kissed her temple as he felt the back of her neck. “Temp feels good.”

“It hurts,” Elide mumbled.

“Hurts? Where, baby?” 

With a screwed-up expression, Elide gestured annoyedly at her body. “Everywhere.” 

He hummed, “I’ll get you some Tylenol.” Lorcan moved to get up, but she tightened her hold on his hoodie.

“I don’t want any,” she said. “Can you stay with me? What’re you even doing out there?”

Lorcan winced like he was reluctant to tell her. “I was, uh, just checking on some,” he averted his eyes, “cases.”

Elide’s eyes went wide, and she attempted to surge to her feet. “You’re working? Let me see.” Without much effort, Lorcan stopped her. He eased her back down, ignoring Elide’s complaints. “Lor, please, I just want to look.”

“You barely have enough energy to get through a movie, no way are you doing legal consulting,” Lorcan grumbled. He pinned her in place with a glare.

She wrapped her hands around his arm, leaning in to entice him. “Why don’t you work in here? I’ll behave.”

Lorcan snorted because he didn’t believe for a second that Elide could help herself. “Uh-huh.” She made her eyes wide, not above pouting a bit. He narrowed his gaze at her but cracked after five silent, tense seconds. “Fine. I’ll work in here, if you promise that you won’t even ask to look at anything.”

“I promise,” Elide beamed. She reclined against the headboard with her cup of tea.

Lorcan got up to bring his work into the bedroom. 

For the first while, Elide held up her end of the deal. She sipped her tea and laid next to him, not even stealing a peek at anything. The day before, Lorcan had gone to her apartment to get some of her things, including her laptop. She was watching Ted Lasso while Lorcan worked.

Once she finished her tea, though, Elide grew antsy. First, she closed her laptop and pushed it away. She wound her arms around one of his, resting her cheek against his bicep. “Whatcha doing?” she whispered.

“Working,” he answered flatly. He angled the paper away so she couldn’t see it. “Nothing you’d be interested in.” It was a laughable statement. When it came to jurisprudence, Elide was interested in it all.

Her eyes travelled up his profile. She regarded his glasses, resting on the straight, proud bridge of his nose. Elide smiled against his arm, “You look good in those glasses.”

“Mm.”

Elide hooked her thigh over his hip, ignoring how aching her joints were. She moved closer and figured she could use her feminine wiles to get her way. 

“It’s not going to work.”

She fell back with a whine, coughing once. “Come on! I’m literally asking for it, please?”

Lorcan just shook his head. “Nope.”

Elide stared balefully at the man beside her. He either didn’t notice her glare or was ignoring her, though she suspected it was the latter. He flipped through a thick bundle of paper. Every now and then he’d pause to mark something, or make a note on his legal pad.

She clicked her tongue, half-heartedly kicking his shin. “You’re being mean.”

“You promised you wouldn’t ask me about work,” he replied evenly. “And I don’t fuck sick people.”

Feeling miffed, Elide declared, “It’s funny how you care so much now when four days ago, you were perfectly happy fucking me in this bed.” 

Lorcan shut his eyes with a sigh. He opened them again, looking at her with unending patience. “Baby, four days ago, we did not fuck. I gave you head for, like, five minutes before you passed out for ten hours.”

The way that Lorcan measured her wellness against the length of time that he’d eaten her out had her smirking. She vaguely remembered that night, yet had assumed her foggy memory was due to further activities. Not until now had she linked that gap in her recollection to her illness.

Elide cocked her head to the side, “You stayed with me the whole night?”

“Of course I did,” he frowned. He put his work aside, turning over. Lorcan cupped her jaw and flicked his eyes over her face. “I woke you up and all you said was ‘too tired’ before you were out again.” He wrapped his arms around her, completely abandoning his work to hold her. “I didn’t sleep at all.”

A happy grin curled over her lips. “You were that worried about lil’ old me?”

Lorcan chuckled, idly rubbing her back up and down. “I’d like to think I’m the kind of man who cares about his girlfriend when she’s sick.”

Elide blinked once before her smile softened. She sunk deeper into his side, asking, “Girlfriend, huh?”

His hand paused. He looked down at her. “Well, yeah. We said we weren’t seeing other people, that we didn’t want to; it follows that that would make you my girlfriend.”

Sometimes, most of the time, her favourite thing about Lorcan was his brevity. She hummed a bit, nodding to herself. “What fine reasoning skills you have, Salvaterre.” Tracing a fingertip of his shirt collar, Elide said, “So, I suppose that would make you my boyfriend, then.”

“That conclusion is both sound and valid,” Lorcan answered, his voice lower. He dipped his head to kiss the underside of her jaw. “Love it when you talk logic to me, baby.”

Her laugh vibrated against his lips, and the rasping note reminded him of how ill Elide was. Reluctantly, Lorcan pulled himself up. Their faces were close, almost close enough to share a breath. He so desperately wanted to kiss her.

She could see in his eyes what he wanted. With more restraint than she thought she had, Elide turned her head away. “I’ll get you sick.”

“I can live with that.”

Elide rolled her eyes. She looked at him shrewdly, swayed by the curve of his plush lips. Before her reasoning could win out, Elide gave him a swift peck. “That’s all you get.”

“Tch, cruel thing.”

✵✵✵✵✵

an: @empress-ofbloodshed ok ok its not the one i told u abt but shes coming i swear (also jules i WILL work on that sneaky little mb outtake ok 🥺🤞)

tag list: @sassyhobbits @empress-ofbloodshed @celestialams @the-regal-warrior @shyvioletcat @icecream52 @elentiyawhitethorn @goddess-aelin (lmk if u want to b added/removed)

[p-artsypants]

The Last Flying Grayson

  While out on duty, Robin sees a billboard that chills his soul. ‘Haly’s Circus 3000 Phoenix Tour, coming to Jump City at the end of June!’ Not long after, Mr. Haly reaches out to the Titans for a favor.

Ao3 | FF.net

“I’m beat!” Cyborg lamented, slouching forward. “I hate chasing Mumbo. He’s annoying and he turned my car into a wind up toy.” 

“I’m right here,” said Mumbo, returned to his old man form. “Not much of a crime spree if I stay in one place, is it?” 

“Man, shut up!” 

“It’s alright Cyborg,” Robin patted his back. “Let’s drop Mumbo off with the police and then we can pick up some pizza for din—” as he spoke, he turned to look at their favorite pizza place, only to see a large Billboard next to it. 

Haly’s Circus 3000! 

Phoenix Tour!

Coming end of June! 

He stood frozen. Suddenly confronting his past like this was not something he was prepared for. 

“Hey, you okay?” Asked Cyborg. “You look paler than usual.” 

“Yeah dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” 

He tore his gaze away from the billboard and looked back at his team. This was his present, and that was his past. There was no reason he couldn’t stop in and say hello, but there was no use lingering on it. “I’m fine. I just…suddenly realized how much paperwork I had to do.” 

“Oh Robin, you must not lock yourself up in that office!” Starfire cried. 

“Yeah dude! It’s movie night!” 

“I’ll do the paperwork on the kitchen table, how about that?” 

Beast Boy and Starfire cheered. 

As they carried Mumbo off to the car, Raven caught Robin taking one last look at the billboard. 

She knew more than the others.

She had been inside his head and saw his memories. It was brief, but she saw it. Whether or not this ‘Haly’s Circus 3000’ was the same one from his memories, she didn’t know. But it wasn’t her place to ask. 

—-

Robin’s past came back to haunt him a few days later. 

They were all gathered in the ops room, playing a card game together and hanging out, just being teens. 

“Ha!” Beast Boy put down a card with a tornado on it. “I bet none of you nerds can beat that!” 

Cyborg groaned. “Man, I had a lightning storm! I was certain I had it!” 

“I got nothing,” said Raven. 

“I, as well, have nothing to beat the tornado.” 

“Well well well, looks like Beast Boy is cleaning up!” 

“Not so fast, Grass Stain,” Robin taunted. “I still have one card.” 

Beast Boy gasped. “You would not.” 

Robin slammed the card down onto the pile. “Meteor shower! Read it and weep!” 

“Noooo! That’s three games in a row! How do you keep winning!?” 

“Let’s just say lady luck is a personal friend of mine.” 

“You have a lady friend named ‘Luck’?” Starfire asked, a pout on her face. 

“Relax Star, it’s just an expression.” 

“Then…perhaps we can play once more and I can befriend this Lady of Luck?” 

“Nah, I’m done,” said Beast Boy. “I got my butt kicked on the field enough times this week, I don’t need it kicked in my own home.” 

The big screen came to life with an unknown caller number on it.

“Ohhh unknown caller? How much do you want to bet it’s a salesman?” 

Robin’s jovial mood plummeted as butterflies erupted in his stomach. He had a feeling. “I don’t think it’s a salesman,” he said, subdued. He rose, and answered it. 

A portly man with a curly mustache wearing a striped shirt appeared on the screen. A big smile came over his face. “Robin! Good to see you, lad!” 

Of course he knew. ‘Robin’ and ‘Boy Wonder’ had been nicknames from the circus. His uniform was nearly the same too. Not to mention the death defying stunts he performed while crime fighting. It wouldn’t be that hard for anyone from Haly’s to piece it together. But, since Haly’s left Gotham and promised to never return, he hadn’t been concerned. Now, he was. 

“Mr. Haly,” he greeted with a nod. 

“I don’t want to take up much of your time. I’m sure you and your team are very busy.” 

“Busy losing at cards,” Beast Boy grumbled. 

“What do you need?” Robin asked. 

“I’m not sure if you heard, but we’re having a comeback tour, and next month, we’re coming to Jump City!” 

“I saw the billboard.” 

“Oh good! I had hoped that advertising was working. I had an idea. We used to do these charity nights where we had special benefactors sponsor us, and all ticket sales would go to the benefactor’s chosen charity.” 

Of course he remembered. It was why Bruce Wayne had been there the night that—

Robin assumed, “and you were hoping the Titans could sponsor a show?” 

“That’s right! Of course, you would all be considered guests of honor and get VIP seats. But, if it’s not in the budget, I’d understand.” 

“I’m sure we can make that happen,” Robin smiled. This conversation was going smoother than he expected. It seemed like Haly was being considerate enough to not assume everyone else knew who he was. 

“And…I have a personal favor to ask.” 

There it was. “What’s that?”

“I was wondering if you could find someone for me. You see, our circus has many new acts, and some old faces too, but…the Flying Graysons were still the greatest. I was hoping you could find Richard, the Last Flying Grayson, and see if he has it in his heart to perform as a special act. Just one night, as an homage to his parents. Is that something you could do for me?” 

Robin was quiet for far too long before he agreed, “yeah, I’ll find him and ask.” 

“Excellent. I know this is rather short notice. We’re planning on coming in two weeks, with the first show at the end of June. We were hoping you’d sponsor the show on June 27.” 

“June 27th, huh?” There was no hiding the grief in his voice. 

“Unless you’d prefer another day.” 

“I’ll make it happen, Mr. Haly.” 

“Wonderful! Wonderful! Let him know he can reach me at this number once he knows what he’ll need for his act. I can’t wait for you to see how the show looks now!” 

Robin’s throat felt tight. “Is Zitka still there?” 

“Of course! Fat on peanuts, but she’s still beautiful.” 

Robin couldn’t help but smile. “Great to hear. We’ll see you in a few weeks then.” 

“See you!” And the call ended. 

“Soooo…” Beast Boy grinned. “Who was that?” 

“An old friend,” Robin said vaguely. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but knew if he made a big deal about not wanting to talk about it then they’d pry and pry and pry until he talked about it! 

“That’s obvious,” said Cyborg. “But what’s the story!? You know circus people?” 

Robin swallowed. “They performed in Gotham City for a time. I knew them from my time there.” Half a lie. “I owe Haly a favor.” That was the truth. 

“Man, you have the coolest experiences from working with Batman and you never talk about them!” 

He scoffed, “like the 22 times Two-Face robbed the Second National Bank of Gotham of all its 2 dollar bills? Yeah, real exciting stuff.” 

“Please,” began Starfire, “this sir-cuss is a performance, like theater?” 

“Sort of,” Robin smiled. “Circuses travel from city to city, and perform in big tents. There’s big animals, strong men, clowns, all sorts of performers.” 

“And who is this Zitka and why is she full of peanuts?”

“She’s an elephant.” 

“Cool! Robin’s friends with an elephant!” Cyborg smiled. 

“UM HELLO? You all are!” Beast Boy morphed into an elephant. 

Cyborg grabbed his trunk. “I meant a real elephant, dummy!” 

Beast boy shifted back, rubbing his nose. “So what is he having you do? Something about finding a performer? A Flying Grayson?”  

He was afraid of this. It was too close. He had to play it cool, pretend it was nothing. He was removed from the situation, and none of it mattered. 

Or he could tell them the whole truth.

Nononononono no. No. Not happening. 

“The Flying Graysons…were the headliner. A family of trapeze artists,” he began. “Gotham is full of crazies like the Joker and Two-Face, yes, but it also has a lot of mafia activity. An extortionist threatened Haly, and when Haly didn’t pay up, the thug messed with the rigging to The Flying Graysons’ act.” Robin swallowed harshly. “John and Mary Grayson…f-fell. Their son, Richard, survived.” He sighed. “I saw it happen. It was…pretty traumatic.” 

“What of the foul man that committed the crime?” Starfire asked. 

“Batman and I beat him up and threw him in jail.” 

“So, I guess this Richard guy owes you a favor, huh?” Beast Boy smirked. 

“I suppose.” 

“Need any help tracking him down?” Offered Cyborg. 

“Nah, I know where to find him.” 

“I don’t know dude,” Beast Boy wondered. “If my parents died in an accident like that, I’d never touch the trapeze again. Is he still practicing?” 

“Not exactly, but he can do it.” Robin headed for the door. “I’m going to go ahead and reach out to him. Have fun with your cards.” 

As he departed and was alone, his shoulders sagged heavily and the tears started to well up. “Not yet,” he whispered. 

He walked swiftly towards his room, only to be halted by Raven appearing from the floor. 

“Wanna talk about it?” She asked.

“About what?” Sooth.

“Robin, I’ve been in your head. I saw your memories. I don’t know the details, but that fall that you witnessed was a prominent memory.”

He had almost forgotten that she had read his mind. Raven was considerate enough to not do it very often to people.  

“I’m fine, and I don’t need to talk about anything,” he said sternly, walking past her. Then he felt a wave of guilt, because Raven, the one friend who was the least likely to reach out, was concerned. “But thanks for the offer.” 

—-

The next few weeks were quiet. Robin shared no more information about the Circus. He never said if he found Richard Grayson. In fact, he didn’t say much at all. He spent most of his days in his room. He admitted that he had been working in his office a lot of late nights, so he was taking naps during the downtime of the day. 

One night at dinner, Beast Boy asked a question that Robin dreaded. “So…I was walking past your room, and I heard a sewing machine?” 

Robin nearly dropped his fork. 

“What’s all that about?” 

Robin gnawed the inside of his cheek. “I’m working on a new costume.” 

Starfire nearly floated out of her chair. “Are you becoming Nightwing?!” 

“No, not quite,” he smiled at her enthusiasm. “I’m just…making a prototype.” Another lie. 

“Can we see it?” Cyborg asked. 

“When I’m done, I’ll show you.” Not a lie! 

—-

Soon, the date arrived. 

Robin banked on the fact that Beast Boy was too preoccupied by games to notice what he was wearing. Just in case, we wore a trench coat over his new costume. 

“Beast Boy, I have to leave early for the show, but I’m leaving your guys’ tickets on the counter with instructions.” 

“Okay Robby, see you later!” Beast Boy didn’t even turn around. 

Robin, the Boy Wonder, exited the tower, and Richard Grayson, the Last Flying Grayson, entered Jump City. 

—-

Hours later, the Titans assembled in the ops room, preparing to leave.

“Hey, where’s Robin?”

“Oh, he left hours ago,” Beast Boy said easily. “But I think he left a note around here somewhere…”

“You mean this?” Raven picked up the paper that was very clearly right in front of them. 

“Haha…yeah…” 

“Dear Titans, I went early to pick up Mr. Grayson. I have left your tickets for you. Your seat numbers are on them. Don’t wait for me, I will meet up with you during the show. Love, Robin.” 

“He can be so sweet,” Starfire smiled. 

“Yeah yeah, bunnies and flowers, can we go? I’m starving!” 

“Oh yeah baby! Carnival food!” 

“This isn’t a carnival, it’s a circus,” Raven corrected. 

“I hope they have popcorn! No! Pretzels!” 

“Whatever they have, I hope it’s deep fried and delicious!” 

They piled in the T-Car and made their way out to the edge of town. From even a few miles away, they could see the massive red and white tent, alight with search lights. 

“Whoa…” Beast Boy gawked. 

“Oh this is most exciting! Such an event on Tamaran would include the beheading of a shnerkel! Will any animals have their heads placed on pikes?” 

“Uh…no.” Beat Boy looked ill. “The circus is a fun place with no maiming.” 

“Actually,” said Cyborg. “I think their whole thing is death-defying stunts. So doing dangerous things to inspire awe.”  

“Fascinating! I believe Robin called that ‘thrill seeking’?”

“Similar,” Said Raven. “Maybe you should just wait and see. It's hard to explain.” 

They drove up to the gate, where a man in a purple clown costume waited. “Good evening! You must be the Teen Titans! Robin saved you a parking spot up front. Go ahead.” 

“Awww Robin saved us a place so I don’t have to worry about my baby getting scratched!” Cyborg sniffed. “You’re right Star, he really can be sweet sometimes.” 

Starfire giggled while Beast Boy made a gagging sound. 

Cyborg parked up front, next to Robin’s motorcycle, and then they made their way to the entrance of the tent. They passed the ticket stand that had a sign up that stated ‘Sold out’. Next to the door was a huge poster of a silhouette of an acrobat swinging on a trapeze. The font read ‘One night only, The Last Flying Grayson!’ The song of a calliope rang through the air.

“Sounds like we picked the right show to sponsor,” Cyborg noted. 

The tent was massive, with seating all the way around. Four giant poles held up the tent, which was blue with stars on the inside. 

“Tickets please,” said a woman in a glittery leotard. 

Starfire handed them over. 

“Of course! You’re the Titans. You’ll be sitting in the VIP box, in section A.” She pointed to a spot in the bleachers that was raised up and out a little, presumably for the best view. 

“We should sponsor more events,” Beast Boy grinned. 

“Enjoy the show!” The woman smiled, handing back the tickets. 

As they crossed the tent, Cyborg got a whiff of the concession stand. “I’m gettin’ in the food line before it gets too long. Whatchu guys want?” 

“Oh! I would like a hot dog with a gratuitous amount of mustard!” Starfire licked her lips at the very idea. 

“I’ll wait in line with you Cy,” said Beast Boy. 

“Raavveeennnn,” Cyborg sang. “They have pretzels!” 

“My day is made,” she droned. 

Starfire and Raven went to their seats to wait for the boys. 

“Where do you think Robin is?” Starfire asked, standing to peer through the crowd. People were still arriving and the stands were filling. 

“Couldn’t say,” Raven shrugged. “Maybe he gets to help the Ringmaster or something.” 

Like she summoned him, her communicator buzzed. “Robin to Starfire, come in, Starfire.” 

“This is Starfire. Where are you?” 

“You’ll see me soon. I need a favor.” 

“Anything!” 

“When I give the signal, I need you to prepare a Tamaranean discus maneuver.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Just trust me.” 

“Alright, you know best. Where do you wish me to aim you?” 

“At the center ring, the stage right in front of you, at the very center.” 

“What signal?” 

“Eyes on deck.” 

“When?” 

“You’ll see me. Don’t worry. And relax! Enjoy the show!” And he ended the call. 

“Uh, that’s weird.” Raven quirked a brow. 

“I hope there is no trouble.” 

“He said not to worry. Maybe he’s helping Mr. Grayson out in his act?” 

“Oh that would be wonderful! Robin is very good at the flipping!” 

“Acrobatics,” Raven corrected. 

Soon enough, the boys returned with arms full of all manner of popcorn, pretzels, hot dogs, soda, and cotton candy. “A hot dog and pretzel, for the ladies,” Beast Boy juggled over the two items, as well as two sodas. 

“Where’s my cheese?” Raven asked. 

“You didn’t say you wanted any.”

“My day is ruined,” she droned. 

Then, the lights dimmed, and a drumroll silenced all chatter. 

A spotlight illuminated a singular man in the center. The same portly, mustachioed man, wearing a red and gold suit with a top hat. “Ladies and gentlemen!” His voice carried throughout the tent. “Welcome to Haly’s Circus 3000! We would like to thank our generous benefactors for this special event, the Teen Titans!”

Another spotlight ignited on the group, unexpectedly, and they all smiled and waved awkwardly as the crowd applauded. 

“Tonight, you will witness performances the likes you’ve never seen! Prepare for awe, laughter, shock, and drama! Please, enjoy the show!”  

Sparklers ignited around the ring and the big band struck up a jaunty tune. From all the aisles came the performers. Clowns on stilts, women standing on horses, strong men carrying barrels, and even a bear on a unicycle. 

 Beast Boy shook Cyborg as he exploded with excitement. 

A man in a burgundy suit came to the center ring, holding a whip in one hand, and a giant hoop in the other. 

“Please direct your attention to the center ring, where you will see God’s mightiest creature come to heel. I present Marko, the Tiger Whisperer!” 

The audience cheered as the Ringmaster left. The man called Marko raised the hoop, and snapped his whip. 

From outside the tent came running a streak of black and orange. The tiger leapt into the ring, through the hoop, and skittered to a stop, like an overgrown puppy. 

The tamer pet his nose and fed him a treat. 

The audience and Titans watched with fascination as the tiger performed tricks that only extremely disciplined dogs could do. The act concluded with the tamer sticking his head in the tiger’s mouth. 

Starfire stood up with the crowd to applaud. 

Each act that followed was just as spectacular. 

There was a juggler that juggled flaming batons and chainsaws. A set of clowns bonked each other on the head with progressively larger and larger cartoonish hammers, and of course, the bear on the unicycle returned. 

“Does that give you fond memories, Cyborg?” Beast Boy joked. 

“It gives me memories alright. Fond? Not so much.”

“That bear is very talented!” Starfire cooed. 

“I’m surprised the unicycle hasn’t broken.” 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” called the Ringmaster once more, as the lights swirled over the audience. “The moment you’ve been looking forward to all night. A once in a lifetime opportunity. The living legacy himself! Performing high-flying death-defying stunts, 60 feet in the air, without the safety of a net, The Last Flying Grayson!” 

The spotlights turned and illuminated a young man, standing in the center ring. The haunting sound of an accordian playing a waltz filled the air. 

“Wait, is that–?” Beast Boy squinted. 

“It can’t be…” Cyborg gaped.

“But it must!” Starfire gleefully beamed. 

“No. Way.” 

The young man had black hair, styled into slicked back spikes. He wore a tight, sleeveless red tunic with yellow ties across the front. He had dark green tights, and a yellow sash instead of a utility belt. 

He had a sad smile on his mask-less face, along with face paint to make it look like he had a single tear on his cheek.

He bowed low, his arms back behind him. Then he flung back and flipped, once, twice, three times and landed on his feet. A swing, made of silk rope, descended down to him. He wrapped one side around his arm, and took measured steps in time with the music, until he broke into a run, and then twisted. He spun rapidly, gliding over the ground, and gradually raised into the air. The higher he raised, the more his body contorted, until he looked like he was twisted into a pretzel. It was all effortless, as his facial expression never changed. Just kept that look of bittersweet happiness. 

“How is he doing that?” Beast Boy asked as Robin held onto the loop with just one hand that reached between his legs while he did the splits. 

“I knew he was flexible, but…whoa.” 

A woman began to sing while he performed. A sad tune, haunting melody, and unknown words to everyone in the audience. 

Everyone, except Starfire. 

“Go, go child, go, you'll see, go.”

She knew these words were in a tongue that was not English, but she wasn’t sure how she knew them. Robin had been the only language assimilation she’d had since she’d been on Earth. But perhaps…

She learned it from him.

“Go and you'll see that a smile often hides a great sorrow. Go and you'll see the madness of mankind.”

As he contorted, Robin twisted the rope around himself, forming a cocoon, until he reached the very top. Then, he pulled a pin on one side and he fell, unraveling like a ball of yard. 

He stopped about a foot from the bottom, posed with one leg up by his head. 

The audience cheered and whistled, but the only one who stayed totally silent was Starfire. Not because she wasn’t enjoying the show, but because she was mesmerized by him. 

“Madness of mankind without righteousness, go. Madness of warriors without fear, go.”

Robin wrapped back up in the silk rope and soared through the tent, waving at the crowd as he passed by. 

The swing raised up further, and reached the height of a platform that was built into the main beams of the tent. Up here, there were several bars, some stationary, and some hanging on wires. 

“Madness of a child full of life who, playing at paradise as a soldier, was killed.”

He simply turned and stepped onto the platform, and offered a little bow. 

He raised his arms, took two steps, and leapt, gliding out to a bar on wires. He swung out, flying over the crowd effortlessly, before he flipped and grabbed the next bar with his legs. At the peak of his swing, he flipped off the bar, spun in a tight ball, and landed on a platform on the opposite side of the tent. 

The crowd clapped. 

Oh, but he wasn’t done. Of course not! He ran and leapt again, catching the bar as it swung back. He used the momentum to swing all the way around the bar several times, getting faster and faster before he let go and flung himself up high. There, he tucked into a ball and rotated twice and caught another bar. He swung on that quickly and shot up again. At the crest of his arc, he hugged his arms to his chest and twisted, turning sideways and upside down. 

The audience watched as he came down, and reached for the next bar…

And missed. 

“No!” Starfire was on her feet, ready to fly out and catch him, only to watch him fall about ten feet before he twisted again and caught a different bar with his legs. 

The audience went wild. 

Starfire nearly collapsed with relief. 

“Where fortune walks, you can't reach there with the heart anymore.”

He swung backwards, before hooking his feet around the wires and contorting backwards to climb up to stand on the bar. Once it reached the peak swing, he dropped down to his hands and swung, using momentum to swing out far and fast. From here, he leapt onto a hanging hoop. He hooked one leg around the hoop and braced the other inside, then relaxed his torso and threw his hands out. He glided over the audience, nearly touching them. Then he passed the Titans and gave them all high fives with a big smile. 

He winked at Starfire. 

The hoop rapidly rose up high into the tent, as someone pulled it on the other end. 

At the top of the tent, there was a thin wire from post to post, about a hundred feet long, and 70 feet up. The accordion and woman ended their song. 

“And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, The Flying Grayson will become the Balancing Grayson, as he performs the tightrope walk!” 

The crowd ‘oo’ed. 

Robin withdrew his bow staff from his belt, extended it, and very carefully started walking across the tightrope. 

The drums below rolled as he shuffled forward, a little more, a little more…

Suddenly, it looked like he lost his balance as he started swaying and trying to over correct. Then he jerked to one side and fell—

Only to once again catch himself, with one hand on the rope. He flipped back up easily, before stowing the staff again, then he gave an exaggerated shrug and flipped forward, walking the tightrope on his hands. 

The crowd went ballistic. 

After a few feet, he flipped again, placing one foot down, then the other, then turning and doing a backbend. Up on his hands, then his feet, then he did a front flip, a cartwheel; a full balance beam routine before reaching the other side. 

He raised his hands to quiet the roaring crowds. 

He took out his staff again, and ran out onto the tightrope. A little before the halfway point, he extended the staff and vaulted up to balance on top of it! He had one hand out, the rest of his body completely straight with his arm. Then, slowly, he transferred the connection point to his forehead. 

“Dude…” Beast boy gaped.

Robin balanced on a tightrope, on his staff, on his forehead. The drums rolled.

He gave a little shake of his hands and the band played a cheerful ‘ta-da!’ 

His friends clapped and cheered, only to be drowned out by the uproar of the crowd. 

Robin flipped backwards onto the rope, tucking his baton back into his sash. He watched the swinging bars below and timed it perfectly as he leapt, fell thirty feet, and grabbed the bar expertly. 

He whirled through the air, catching bar after bar in more and more precarious ways, like while he was spinning in a somersault, or by just one hand. He even dangled by just one foot. 

Starfire watched with awe as he performed, laughter and joy bubbling out of him each time he landed a trick. 

It was a side of Robin she’d never seen before. 

He was…beautiful. 

Of course, she and many other ladies (and probably several men) thought that Robin was cute, handsome, and ‘oh em gee a total hottie’ but seeing him right now, in this environment…he was just beautiful. 

Like a galaxy made of an ocean of stars and colors, he was beautiful like a force of nature. His thin frame was deceitful to the strength he held. His ropey muscles had mostly been hidden under loose sleeves and gloves. But Starfire could see them plainly now, and hard at work, twisting under his skin with each aerial feat. The contours of his body were distinct with the skin tight costume. The peak of the human form, a rib cage, surrounded by bands of muscle, a chest with a rapidly beating heart. Even his fingers held incredible strength, as he dangled carelessly from just the tips. 

A force of nature. A human in the most definite form. 

Utterly mesmerizing.  

Robin arched his back, hanging from his ankles with his arms far behind him. He swung his arms, pumping his body to climb higher and higher. He let go, somersaulting in the air, once, twice–five times, before landing on the tips of his toes on a platform. His silk rope dangled off to the side, and he used it to climb all the way back to the top, where the tightrope was. 

Once up there, he looked down, right to her. He pointed two fingers at his eyes, then to her. 

Eyes on deck.

The signal. 

Starfire floated out of her seat, up about ten feet, to provide plenty of clearance for what he had in mind. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke into a mic way up there. “Thank you so much for coming out tonight for my special performance. And to the Teen Titans, thank you for making this event even more special. I knew I had to design my costume after Robin when I heard you guys were going to be here.” 

He was such a liar. 

“For my final trick, I will need the assistance of a beautiful young woman from the audience.” He pretended to glance around for only a second before exclaiming, “oh Starfire of the Teen Titans! Thank you for volunteering! Give her a hand folks!” 

There was an applause, along with laughter, as this had obviously been planned. Starfire giggled as Cyborg shouted, “yeah that’s our girl!” 

Robin crawled out on the tightrope, pinwheeling one leg around his body, and then the other. When he reached the middle of the rope, he held his arms out to the side. 

A drum roll went up. 

He dropped, catching himself with his fingers, and began to swing faster and faster until he was rocketing around the wire, gaining speed. 

Then he let go and soared.  

Arms out wide like wings, he whooped as he flew. 

Then he started to fall, but he had no fear. He was falling right towards her, and she’d catch him. 

Starfire floated a couple extra feet, eager to make contact with her friend. She caught him with her hands coming to rest on his ribcage, while he took hold of her shoulders. 

“Hi Star,” he beamed, piercing her soul with those vibrant blue eyes. 

“Hello,” she smiled back, her heart in her throat. Then she twisted, never letting gravity have a turn with him in this dance. She spun, her grip dragging down to his arms.

Once, twice, three times she spun him, before she let him go. Letting go this time was so different from everytime they performed this maneuver on the field. She wasn’t flinging him into an attack. There was no enemy waiting. 

She was throwing him into the end of his act. The end of this beautiful, sacred moment. 

Robin twisted in the air and grabbed his staff from his sash. He extended it and dug it into the center of the ring, slowing his descent. He spun around it, his limbs just gliding across the surface as he slowed more and more. 

He ended with one leg wrapped around the staff, while the other kicked out. He leaned back and threw his arms out and laughed. 

It was like he was mocking the crowd. I flew, his laughter said, I got to fly and you didn’t. 

“Ladies and gentlemen! The Last Flying Grayson!” 

Robin got to his feet as the crowd stood, screaming and cheering. He bowed once again, and then departed out of the ring, choosing to cartwheel and backflip out. 

Starfire was stuck floating in the air, tears streaming down her face, as a bittersweet smile came over her face. 

“You coming down?” Cyborg asked.

She nodded awkwardly and sank back into her seat. 

“You okay?” Raven asked, offering the edge of her cape to wipe her tears.

“I am only sad it is over,” she lamented. 

“No worries!” Cyborg chirped. “I recorded the whole thing!” He tapped his head. “You can watch it over again whenever you want!” 

“Oh glorious!” She clapped her hands together, feeling slightly better. 

Of course, watching a video would never be the same as watching it in person, but it would have to be enough. 

“You guys enjoying the show?” A voice asked from behind them.

They turned in shock as Robin, back in his normal costume and mask appeared behind them. He crouched and stole a handful of Beast Boy’s popcorn. 

“That Richard Grayson is something else! Did you see that tightrope act? I wonder how long it took him to perfect that!”

Starfire grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him into a hug. “It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!” 

Robin blushed, as she had basically pulled him into her lap, but he hugged her back, nonetheless.

“I wouldn’t say it like that,” said Beast Boy, “but it was certainly the craziest thing I’ve ever seen!” 

“I knew you had some skill, but I get so focused on the martial arts part, I don’t even think about your acrobatics!” Said Cyborg. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Raven asked, not accusatory, just curious. 

“Uh…” he pulled at his collar. “It’s like…really hard for me to talk about. I figured just showing you would be easier.” He adjusted his grip on Starfire, resigned to the fact he was sitting in her lap. He couldn’t get out of the hug if he tried. “It’s…it’s been 10 years. 10 years ago today that they…my parents…” He swallowed harshly. “Haly knew. He knew I would spend the day crying and in self loathing. It still hurts, and it might never stop, but by being able to do this…it was kinda like…being with them again.” 

Starfire hugged him tighter, burying her face in his shoulder. 

“You seemed to have fun. Are you gonna do it again someday?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not.” 

Eventually, Starfire let him go so that he could sit next to her instead. She still held his arm, too emotional to let him go completely, and honestly, he didn’t mind so much. 

They all watched the end of the show together, a rancorous applause as almost all the performers came out and took their bows. 

Then, the lights came up, and everyone was free to go. 

Robin released a little sigh. It was hard, but it had been worth it. He felt happier and more content than he expected he’d feel today. 

“So,” Raven began. “Are you going to introduce us to your friends, or what?” 

“Oh yes! I should very much like to meet your elephant!” 

Robin smiled. “Whatever you guys want.” 

—

They waited for the crowds to thin before Robin led them to another tent. Here, all manner of performers lounged about, some still in costumes and makeup. When the Titans entered, attention swiveled to them. 

“Dickie Bird!” 

Then there was an onslaught of ‘way to go’s and ‘atta boy’s, accompanied with affectionate head rubs and back pats. Robin took it all in stride, vainly fixing his hair afterwards. “Uh…thanks guys. It means a lot. Um, these are my friends, The Teen Titans. Cyborg, Beast Boy, Raven, and Starfire.” 

“It is good to meet you all in person,” Mr. Haly himself said, shaking their hands. “Tonight was a smashing success. Thank you for all your help.” 

“Uh, gotta be honest man, we just showed up tonight. Robin took care of everything. If anything, we should be thanking you guys for the amazing show!” 

“Nevertheless, attaching your name to the show really brought the crowds in! We’re back, baby!” 

Robin smiled, thrilled to see Haly’s Circus thriving. 

“So,” Beast Boy began, talking quietly to Robin, but everyone heard him. “Everyone here knows who you are, huh?” 

Robin blushed, embarrassed. “Yep.” 

“You think a little piece of fabric would keep us from recognizing ol’ Dickie Bird?” A man with smudged paint on his face asked. “Even if you did grow a bit.” He nudged Robin. 

A strong man spoke up, with a heavy Russian accent. “Your friends, they do not know how you got the name Robin?” 

“Hey yeah!” Cyborg said, vexed. “How come we don’t know? Does anyone know?” 

Robin rubbed the back of his head. “It’s…kind of embarrassing.” 

“Please share!” Starfire asked, linking her fingers around his arm. 

Robin sighed. “So…I was born on the first day of spring, so my mom always called me her little Robin.” 

“Aww,” said Beast Boy. “That’s sweet!” 

Robin continued. “She said it so often, it became kind of like a stage name, though never officially since I only performed with my parents. But we did talk about me having a solo act as I got older, under the name ‘Robin, the Boy Wonder’. When I joined Batman, I was 8 and didn’t know any better and used the same name.” He gave a little shrug. “I don’t even think Batman knows.” 

“Oh, he knows,” said Haly with a laugh. “Shortly after your debut, he sent me a strongly worded email telling me not to tell anyone or there would be consequences.” 

Robin rolled his eyes. “Did you respond to that nonsense?” 

“You know, I did? I told him you were our boy and that we wouldn’t do anything to put you into harm’s way…which is why we let that playboy billionaire adopt you, despite the fact he clearly didn’t know how to raise a kid. Anyways, I asked Batman if he was in the habit of sending kids to fight on the street. And you know what he told me? He said that you went after Anthony Zucco yourself, at 8 years old. He found you out there and you told him you weren’t going to stop looking for Zucco until he was dead or behind bars.” 

“Toughest eight year old I ever heard of,” Raven said, actually sounding impressed. 

“So, I let it go. But, we've been keeping an ear out for you.” 

Robin wasn’t all that surprised that Batman had basically threatened his extended family, but he was proud that Haly didn’t put up with his bullshit. 

It also sounded like they didn’t know that Bruce Wayne was Batman. So that was a relief. 

“It was Donna’s idea to reach out to you,” Haly continued. “I didn’t know if it was a good idea, but you don’t know until you take a chance, right?” 

The woman that had taken the tickets came up to him and put an arm around his shoulder. “We still love you, Dickie Bird, and I knew we had to take that chance to see you.” 

“Dickie Bird?” Beast Boy asked Cyborg, in a hush. 

Another man started whistling a happy tune, before a few others joined in singing, “a Dickie Bird whispered ‘haven’t you heard? Spring is here, spring is here, spring is here’.” 

Then Robin finished, “And you and I fell in love in reply on hearing the Dickie bird’s news.” His smile was tight. “I…had forgotten they sang that. But I guess I never forgot the song.” 

Donna gave him a loving pinch to his cheek. “Now Dick, there’s something we wanted to give you. We found this in the archives, and we thought  you would want it.” She retrieved a tube from a table, and two of the strong men opened it up and unraveled the large poster inside. 

The Flying Graysons

New Addition 

Dick, Our Boy Wonder

It was the poster from his debut show, three years before the accident. 

“Is that you?” Starfire asked, nearly cooing. “You were so small.” 

“Still is,” Cyborg grinned. 

“Yeah,” Robin breathed. “Thanks Donna. It means a lot.” 

“Of course, baby. Now, we’re gonna put the poster from tonight in there too, so you can have both, okay?” 

Robin just nodded. 

Starfire could see this was hard for him, and just laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Why don’t you go say hello to Zitka?” Donna urged. “I’m sure she missed you.” 

“Will she remember you?” Cyborg asked. 

Robin chuckled, “well, they say an elephant never forgets.” 

—-

When they returned to the tower, Robin shut Richard Grayson away in the closet, where he belonged, along with both posters. Just a skeleton of his past life. He was Robin now, all the time. 24/7. 

Whenever Starfire tried to talk about it, he deflected the topic. Not harshly or cruelly, he just decided not to answer her directly. 

It broke her heart. 

About a week later, she sat on the rooftop, looking at the moon, that haunting accordion tune playing in her mind, the silhouette of her friend against the curtain was just a shadow on the surface. 

“Hey…you okay?” Robin’s voice asked from the door. “You were pretty quiet today.” 

She wasn’t sure if she could handle a conversation with him right now. All she wanted was to talk about his performance. She had questions and observations, and she just wanted to share it all with him. She couldn’t bear hearing him shut it all down again. 

“You know you can talk to me,” he said softly, resting a hand on her shoulder. 

“Can I?” She asked just as softly. 

“Of course.” 

“It is…about the circus.” 

He frowned. 

She prepared herself for the wall that was about to drop. 

Instead, he took a seat beside her, legs crossed in front of him. “I’m sorry. You’ve been trying to talk about it all week and…like I said, it’s really hard for me to talk about.” 

“I understand. I have things in my life that are equally difficult to share.” She reached out and touched the side of his face, where the painted tear had been. “I just…admired your performance so much. You were most joyous. I have seen you happy, but never like that. I would like to share that experience with you again. Perhaps then maybe one day, it will not be so hard to talk about?” 

Robin was quiet for a long time, considering it. Then he offered a small smile. “I’ll think about it.”

She returned the smile. “That’s all I ask.” 

—

Another week passed. Robin seemed to clam right back up. 

Starfire was resigned to the fact that that one night at the circus was all anyone was ever going to see. And she had to be fine with it. So what if he was her best friend? It was his tragedy, and only he could decide who he’d share it with. 

But then, late one night, there was a knock at her bedroom door. 

“Hello?” She asked, as she answered. 

There was no one there, but there was a package at her feet. A brown paper wrapped parcel, with a note on it. 

‘Starfire, 

Please put this on and meet me in the training room. 

-Love, Robin’ 

Curious, she ripped the paper off, only to find a purple piece of cloth, nearly the same color as her uniform. She unraveled it, surprised to find a suit made of stretchy material. It was purple but had silvery accents and glittery beads all over the front. 

It was so pretty! She held it up and did a little twirl, then rushed to put it on. 

It wasn’t a completely perfect fit, but it was comfortable and not too tight. She zipped through the tower in haste to get to the training room. 

Richard Grayson was there, dangling from his ankle from a bar hanging from the ceiling. He looked at her as she entered. 

“Oh wow!” He chirped, flipping off to land on his feet. “That turned out great! I wasn’t sure if it would fit, because I measured a spare uniform that obviously doesn’t have all the measurements—”

“You made this?”

“...yeah? I made all my uniforms. Always have.” 

“There is so much I do not know about you, Richard Grayson,” she smirked, coming closer. 

He blushed, but smiled at her. “It’s so weird hearing you say that name.” 

“Why do you look at me in such a way?” She asked, tilting her head. 

“What way? I’m just…looking at you. I mean, you’re pleasant to look at, but if I’m staring I’m not meaning to!” Shutupshutupshutupshutup!

“You mean to say this is how you look at me when your mask is on as well?”

“Yes?” Was that a good thing? Or was he in trouble now? Did he hurt her feelings? Was he leering? Glaring?

A pretty blush dusted her cheeks as her smile deepened, though it looked like she was trying not to show it.  

He cleared his throat. “Um…would you like to…learn some moves?” 

Her eyes glistened. When she asked if he would share with her, she had expected him to just talk, not this! “Yes please!” 

“Alright.” He ran and leapt, grabbing hold of the bar, then he contorted so he could hang upside down, his feet hooked around the wires. “Okay, come here and hold my arms, facing the same direction as me.” 

She gleefully did, having to hover a little to reach. 

“Okay, you’re going to push off that box to get us swinging.”

She did, and thrust her legs to pick up momentum. 

“Good! Now just do it in time with me so we pick up maximum height.” 

“Can I not just fly us up?” 

“You could, but where’s the fun in that?” 

She giggled. “You always have a certain way to do things.” 

“That I do!” 

They swung together, making the bar go farther and farther out. 

“Okay, now I want you to kick up and try to hook your feet with my calves. Don’t worry if it takes a couple of times.” 

 Using her super strength, she easily flipped up and hooked her legs with his. She was going to tease him about how good she already was, until she realized the extremely intimate position this put them in. They were completely pressed together, and she saw straight into his blue eyes. “Oh,” she whispered. 

“What?” He smirked. 

“We are close.” 

“Yep. That’s part of the experience. Now, put your arms around my neck.” 

She did so, amazed that they could get any closer. 

He had kept the swing moving despite being nervous about having Starfire so close, and effortlessly, he flipped them right side up so he was sitting on the bar and she was in his lap. “Ta-da!” 

She couldn’t help but giggle again. 

“Hey Star?”

“Yes Robin?”

“Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you. This is very sweet. What made you finally share?” 

He kicked his legs so they stayed gliding through the air. “For the longest time, Trapeze represented falling instead of flying like it should. I figured…if anyone would understand flying, it would be you. So…” He avoided eye contact, feeling awkward. That was the dumb answer.

“That I do,” she grinned softly, tenderly. Her heart was full, she thought she might just burst. “What next?” 

“Grab hold of the wires, then put your feet on the bar, right here.” He patted the space next to his hips. 

She stood, sort of, and made a ‘v’ with her body. 

“I’ll lean back, and you stand up straight. 1…2…3!”

Starfire readjusted her grip on the wires and stood, looking down. She watched as Robin fell backwards, and then disappeared. “What…?”

The weight on the bar shifted, and suddenly he was behind her, arms around her waist, and chin on her shoulder. 

“How did you do that?”  

“Trade secret,” he chuckled. “Now, when I tell you to, I want you to let go and bring your knees up.” 

“But I am holding the wire, and you are holding me. If I let go…” 

“Trust me Star,” he said earnestly. “You’ll love this.” 

“Alright. I am ready when you are.” 

He tightened his hold on her waist. “And…go!” 

Starfire let go of the wire, tucked her knees, and instinctually clenched her eyes shut. She let out a loud ‘EEP!’ as she felt them fall backwards together. Then she flipped all the way around, before they came to a swinging stop. She peeled her eyes open to find herself parallel with the ground, being held by the hips. 

She craned her neck to look at Robin, who was hanging by his knees. “Ta-da!” He chuckled. “It’s probably not all that exciting since you can fly on your own.” 

She laughed and placed her arms out in front of her, like she did when she flew. “Contrariwise, it is very exciting! I am not prepared for what you are going to do. I am not in control.” 

“So this is a good trust exercise then!” 

“You have my trust, Robin,” she said so sincerely, so confidently, it brought a pang to his heart. He trusted her too. With his life, with his past, with his heart—

Starfire noticed he was using her like a pendulum to gain height again. So, she flew, just a little, just to get the bar moving. 

“Ready Star?” He called down. 

“What is happening?!” 

“Here we go!” 

Starfire let out a shriek this time as he yanked her upwards and let go, only to grab her a second later and hug her to himself. She fell to sit sideways in his lap as he sat on the bar. 

“Did I scare you?”

“Only for a moment!” She giggled, the joy in her soul bubbling over. She wrapped her arms around his neck for a better hold. 

Robin lazily kicked his foot to keep them moving, but otherwise just enjoyed having her close. What a thought. They weren’t even talking. 

He shook his head, a little embarrassed by himself. 

“What is it?” She asked sweetly. 

“Nothing, just thought of something ironic.” 

“Would you please share your ironic thought?” 

He held his breath. 

Well.

He was Richard Grayson right now. No mask, no polymerized titanium cape, and Starfire was sitting on his lap. 

Couldn’t really get more vulnerable than that, right?

He exhaled. “I was just thinking…I lost the two people I loved the most to a fall. But I don’t have to worry about losing the girl I love, because she can fly.” He offered a small smile. 

“Me?” Her eyes brightened. 

He just nodded. 

“Robin, you truly love me?” 

“Yeah,” he whispered. 

She touched his face, gently drifting her thumb over his cheek. “The feeling is mutual.” 

His shoulders sagged in relief, and his smile grew. 

“Shall we initiate lip contact?” 

He barked a laugh, not because it was funny, but because it was so Starfire that it brought him immense joy. Instead of answering, he just leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. 

Starfire smiled into the kiss and hugged him tighter. Thankfully not too tight, as she had a tendency to get carried away with these things. 

As they pulled away, they stayed close, just savoring the moment. 

As Robin was in what was probably the happiest moment of his young life, it all shattered in front of his face. Like a bucket of ice water, the sound of three people clapping slapped against his face. 

Well, a cyborg, changeling, and an empath. 

Robin whipped his head around to stare at the intruders. 

“Bravo! Encore!” 

“Bravissimo!” 

“Yay.” 

“How…long…have you guys been there?” 

“Dude, like, the whole time. When I saw Starfire dressed like a purple disco ball, I knew something like this was going down.” 

“The pageantry! The drama! The action! The romance! Best show I’ve seen all week,” Cyborg smirked. 

“Congrats on the kissing,” said Raven, who seemed genuinely happy for them in her own way. 

Robin sighed. He should have known better. 

“So are you going to teach us how to acrobat?” Asked Beast Boy. 

“Do we have to sit on your lap too?” Asked Cyborg, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“As long as I get a sparkly leotard, I’ll be happy,” Raven made a rare joke. 

Robin was far too embarrassed to retort to any of that, so he just hid his face in Starfire’s shoulder. 

“Dudes! We can start our own circus! We have a full set! And we could all learn Trapeze from Robin and do a whole show! We can call it, ‘The Teen Swingers Club’.” 

Cyborg and Robin burst out laughing while Raven desperately tried not to. 

“What? What’s so funny?” 

“Yes, I do not understand the joke either.” 

Robin whispered the meaning to her quietly before she also burst out laughing. 

“Aw man. I hate it when my best jokes are accidents.” 

“The best things that happen to you are accidents,” Raven quipped. “You probably were an accident.” 

“Hey!” He barked, offended. 

Starfire giggled and rested her head on Robin’s chest. “Do not be embarrassed, Robin. For I could not hide what happened from our friends, and this way we do not have to tell them.” 

He sighed. He supposed that was a bonus. 

Besides, he had started this trend of showing vulnerability instead of talking about his feelings. Why stop now? 

“Hang on,” Robin told Starfire. 

She gleefully squeezed tighter as he fell backwards, and the rest of the Titans cheered. 

—

The next day, both posters were hanging proudly in the training room, right by the acrobatics equipment.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Nana rant time because I've been putting up with some shit at work and I need to vent! (also, I'm still writing requests, I should have enough to queue up for the week once I finish this last one. And then I'll work on more for the following week. I'm trying to have a system and a schedule)

ANYWAY! So my shitty ex was finally terminated from the job that we both worked at. I was so happy, the drama was gone, I felt like I could breathe again! It was amazing! Sure, I had to work by myself three days in a row, but the actual store manager is the coolest and allows me to wear my headphones so I can just get in my zone and get shit done.

Everything is going great, and then I get this message from my work friend/work mom. Her daughter got hired. Now... Her daughter is only 17, so she isn't much help anyway, but on top of that, I've heard some shit about her daughter from her. The way she described her daughter for the past 8 months, this girl seemed like an absolute nightmare.

Queue me internally panicking because I have to work with this kid.

So she works with her mom first, and obviously her mom is going to say "she did great!" ya know, it's her kid and all, I guess she's gotta hype her up in some way. So I'm like, "okay cool, this kid works. Work mom wouldn't lie to me about that."

SO THEN SUNDAY COMES

And this kid comes over to me and says "Are you *Nana?" and me, being the cheerful, happy, super nice person that I am, I'm like "Yeah, hi! How are you?" And she just hits me with a "my mom says I'm better than you."

Like... Okay?? WTF WAS THAT SHIT?! Whatever, I'm just trying to work and not be stressed.

So, I continue trying to be nice to this girl. I buy her an energy drink because she wants one, I'm just trying to be a good person. I let her come out with me during my smoke break... And then she starts spewing some unnecessary family drama to me... Which was really awkward for me because like... I don't know this girl other than what her mother has told me, and I've heard some stories... Some fucking horror stories about this kid. So I just do the awkward smile and nod thing. I'm just trying to enjoy my cigarette before I start frying.

I get back inside after my mini smoke break that was less peaceful than I wanted it to be because this kid would not shut up. I start frying my donuts, and she just SHITS ON ME. Everything I do, she's just criticizing it to the point where I'm about to just throw down my frying sticks and walk the fuck out. Everything I did I was apparently doing it wrong, even though Sunday was only her third fucking day of working.

On top of criticizing my every move basically, she didn't do shit?? How the fuck is she gonna say that her mom said she's better than me when she didn't fucking do anything??? She's allowed to have a 30 minute break while only working 5 hours because she's a minor, but then she just takes it upon herself to take an HOUR break because she needed more time with her boyfriend I guess.

I end up working until almost 1 in the fucking morning on Sunday because the kid literally didn't do ANYTHING.

So then I got to work by myself monday, happy as hell, living the life, got out of work by 10pm because I'm just good like that. I don't need help.

But then I have to work with her on Tuesday. So I go in early. I go in THREE hours earlier than my regular schedule, because on top of being stuck with the worlds most conniving, manipulative, down-right shitty, brat, I also have to make everything that everyone else is too fucking lazy to make. I try to ignore the kid when she does come in, I already started frying, so she has donuts to decorate already and I just assume she's going to stay in her fucking lane and decorate them since she's "so good" at it. But no... She starts trying to glaze. And in the process of trying to glaze, she shits on the glaze I just made because it's "too thick". Like bitch, it's fresh! It's not watered down. IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE THICK! FUCK OFF AND GET AWAY FROM MY GLAZER!

I tell her to start decorating. She doesn't want to do that yet because the donuts are too hot. Get good, kid. If you were as good as me, you'd be burning your fingerprints off like I do and filling the fucking donuts. But no. She's a whiny little shit face who doesn't wanna fucking do anything but wants to get paid to stand around and act like she's queen shit just because her mom has been working there for 7 years.

Anywho, I take my little cool down break, which is like 7 minutes tops, just the right amount of time to smoke a ciggy and get back in before my next rack of donuts are done. AND THIS BITCH! She has the nerve to ask ME if she can take another hour break like on Sunday because that was "fun". OF COURSE IT WAS FUN! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DO FUCKALL AND YOU STILL GOT PAID AND I GOT STUCK WITH THE WORK. So I told her no, that I didn't want to get in trouble for it, and I didn't want her to get in trouble (because I'm still trying to look out for her for some fuck ass reason), and THIS FUCKING BIIIITCH says "well who's gonna catch me?" ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! THERE'S CAMERAS EVERYWHERE!!! Spoiler alert : She did get caught because her ass tried to take another extended break. Eat shit, kiddo.

I was off work tonight, and her mom texts me and says "She did really good tonight, she filled the marshmallow, she came back in from her break at the right time." OF COURSE SHE DID! SHE'S NOT GONNA DO THAT SHIT IN FRONT OF HER OWN MOTHER! THAT DOESN'T CHANGE THE FACT THAT SHE'S A FUCKING BITCH WHEN SHE WORKS WITH ME! I DON'T WANNA WORK WITH HER ANYMORE!

Long story short, I'm about to lose my fucking shit and I still have to work with the worlds laziest, brattiest fucking child and I'm overworked, underappreciated, underpaid, and expected to just put up with constant bullshit by everyone. I can't find a new job fast enough.

[justsomeclintasha]

Clint shifts from one leg to the next, watching the coffee brew in the machine. It’s taking forever. He wanders to the cabinet, then the fridge, and back to the counter, finally filling his mug.

Fresh caffeine in hand, he sits down across from Tony at the kitchen table. A newspaper is spread out in front of him. The crossword is half filled. He chews the end of his pen.

Clint is quiet as he watches. He’s a sniper, after all. He’s patient. Usually.

His leg bounces under the table. Tony fills out a row of squares, and Clint picks up the extra pen beside them. He clicks it open, draws an arrow on the corner of the paper. Clicks it shut. Bounces his leg some more.

Tony looks up and sighs.

“Out with it.”

“Natasha is mad at me.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing! Well, I don’t think I did. I just tried to share some of her chips and she snapped at me. She doesn’t even like sour cream and onion.”

“It’s just that sort of week,” Tony replies with a shrug, starting on the sudoku. He seems unbothered. Clint frowns and sips his coffee, thinking it over.

Is Natasha having a bad week? It didn’t seem so. She was unusually affectionate yesterday, but maybe he had just looked extra handsome or she liked his new body wash.

“Maybe you should take her a heating pad,” Tony suggests. Clint snaps back to reality, and the squares of the puzzle are already filled.

“Is she injured?”

“She’s been eating fruity pebbles the last three days.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She has her period, Clint,” he explains patiently.

“What?”

“It’s when a woman’s body-“

“I know what it means! How do you know?”

“Because I notice things. Eating habits change. Food cravings. You know?”

“I’m a spy.”

“Clearly not a good one.” Clint huffs out a frustrated breath. “Take her a heating pad and a snack. It’s not a bad thing, but sometimes emotions change and they can be overwhelming. She’s fine. Just help her out.”

With that, he gathers his stuff and leaves. Clint quietly finishes his coffee, wondering how he could have missed all the signs. It didn’t even occur to him. A twinge of guilt tugs in his chest.

He puts his empty mug in the sink. Jarvis directs him to the medical supply closet, where he finds an electric heating pad. It’s soft and has different temperature settings. He thinks it may be perfect. He swings back to the kitchen on the way to grab some chocolate chip cookies, which are usually her favorite.

Natasha is right where he left her, curled up on her oversized chair in the lounge. Her knees are tucked to her chest. She looks miserable and tired, watching the rain fall outside.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “I brought you some stuff. You want to cuddle?”

She turns her gaze to him, then to the items in his arms. He hands over the cookies and plugs in the heating pad, moving it over to her stomach and handing her the control so she can adjust it. As he sits down next to her, she immediately snuggles into him.

“I don’t feel good.”

“I know. It’s okay.” Her head drops onto his shoulder. He can feel how exhausted she is. “You can sleep, Nat. I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I love you.” She smiles, her eyes closing.

“I love you, too.”

[rothjuje]

The sun setting early has been...nice? I forgot how much more I enjoy cooking (and eating) in the colder months. The time change has been...not so nice. It has completely derailed George’s ability to sleep through the night and I’m getting too old to be up multiple times a night. I don’t mind feeling tired, but it’s hard to get much done at this level of exhaustion (which does not help my mental state).

The kids had a shorter week last week which was nice. Things were less crazy overall and Justin and I were able to reconnect. We had our first (at home) date night since the move. We’ve actually spent the last three consecutive evenings together catching up on conversations and shows. Feels nice to leave the roommate phase.

We said goodbye to our last warm day yesterday and explored a new hiking spot that was very pretty. Weather is supposed to be in the mid 40s all next week. My friends here are starting to suffer from SAD, which I did not realize was an actual thing. So odd to me how MA just shuts down this time of year. I have the gift of novelty/not having experienced this season yet, so hopefully I won’t succumb to SAD.

I haven’t been able to convince Justin yet that a dog is a good idea but I have been able to convince him that a treadmill is! I ended up working out last week and the endorphins after were woah. I might actually buy myself earbuds or whatever they’re called and have a little workout date with myself in the evenings.

I have an appointment with a psych soon to discuss ADHD meds and I’m leaning toward staying unmedicated. Or maybe trying concerta again, but adderall isn’t for me. Maybe stimulants aren’t in general, I already struggle with appetite and falling asleep so the side effects really get me. I know there is non-stimulant ADHD medication but I don’t know enough about it/if it’s effective.

Also, I think most of my inability to complete tasks recently is due to the move/stress. I’ve had a few breaks over the past couple weeks and it has considerably improved my functionality/motivation. And I also realized I get weird if I don’t spend enough time outside so that too has helped center me.

I found out one of my friends has T/TH mornings free and we have plans to go on walks and just hang and I am so excited to have some adult interaction. It’s really, really nice to have two close friends here. I love my little town even if it does make me stir crazy at times. But we did find that beautiful hiking spot by a lake 12 minutes away so at least there’s something close to do while George is away at school in the mornings.

My car is having issues again. Sigh. Justin loves having a van, but I need something lighter and easier to drive/park. I love the Kia Sorento because it’s light/easy to drive and also has a third row. A Ford Explorer has a third row as well and is an attractive option because it seems a little safer in the snow/can tow and I would like a camper some day (but it’s heavier and pricier than the Sorento). I will miss having sliding doors and a tv though, hmm..

[bradenthompson]

Shut Up, Spit Boy

"Apologies for making y'all do this again, but--and I'm sure Collie told you the same thing I'mma tell you now--remember: talking about it makes the pain go away. Right? Can we do another quick Pain Check on all y'all? Starting at the front, going back? You. Lewis? Lewis. One to ten, where you ranking your pain this week?"

"Six."

"Six, okay, so... clipboard's saying we improved, from last week. When Collie asked you the same question, you said eight. We're feeling better? Cool! Alright, and... Marianne?"

"Uh... maybe a seven?"

"Alright, maybe--"

"No! Six and a half."

"Algorithm doesn't take kindly to decimals, so let's just round down to six. Six sound good? Cool. Tony?"

"Four."

"Christopher?"

"It's Topher, actually. Five. Let's go five."

"We're going five. Emily?"

"Nine."

"Steady with the nine, I see, alright. And remember, you can define pain however you want. Whatever definition feels right. Emotional pain, mental pain--your pills from last week should've dealt with the physical pain but if not go talk to Dr. Paq outside. Please.

"Di... Diego, here you are. Pain?"

"Ten."

Diego picked ten because he was curious. Maximum pain, two weeks in a row. Maybe they'd move him to a different class. A morning class, ideally. It's week two of HRP reorientation, week three of being here, and he's still nursing some titanic jet lag. Coffee hasn't helped and that's really saying something, because it's about twenty times stronger than it used to be. Even the Not-Fee kiosk in the shopping block, a walk-up café proudly selling coffee-flavored milk, is tough enough to give a Cuban pause. And Diego can say that.

Before getting here, he had dunked his fourth Not-Fee of the day in the trash burner outside. Sign says not to dispose plastics but nobody saw. And sure, the fan outside is an intake and the classroom is starting to smell awful chemical-like, but they can't trace that to him. Surely. Those Not-Fees aren't cheap but Diego hasn't the experience to know how far he should be stretching these monthly stimuli. Sure feels like a decent chunk of change. Fourteen hundred dollars? Whew. Righteous bucks. He wasn't making that kind of money--

"Earth to Diego," the substitute instructor snaps. "Still feeling dilated?"

"I don't know what that means."

"How about jet lag?"

"Ohh, yeah, yeah."

"It passes," the sub assures him, "and I'm sure your friends here are just as turned around. Would it make you feel better if you knew why?"

Diego burps. Tastes like milk. "Shoot."

"Prevailing theory is air tolerance. Y'all were living in a rice cooker. Even you, Marianne. Now, our air is of an exponentially higher purity. Higher than oxygen can balance naturally. Y'all's brains have never drank something this clear. It's good for you! But the lack of those comfortable pollutants will take some getting used to; raise your hand if you've been getting headaches."

Every hand goes up.

"Ah. Thought to. Dr. Paq will have another pill for you. I'll have him slip it in y'all's takeaway bags. Okay... who did we leave off on? Diego? No, you're the ten. So then it's Thomas..."

Diego stops listening to the answers. He doesn't think anyone else said ten, though. So either they're liars or aren't trying to stress test the system. One guy rated his pain at a zero. If the goal is getting out of these classes, maybe Diego should've tried that.

"... Other things the body experiences, following the big wakey-wakey," the sub transitions. "Headaches. Diego's jet lag. What else, what else? How's everyone been feeling?"

There's a hesitation, but Thomas, sitting to Diego's right, raises a hand. "My leg's been falling asleep like four times a day."

"Vascular hiccups, yeah, that happens. Your bodies have just gone through a factory reset of sorts. Or maybe something closer to the 'system updates' y'all's smartphones would sometimes do. If I have the terminology right. Your brain is trying out all your motor functions. Making sure everything still works. Now this is one of the more embarrassing ones, I know... involuntary erections, anyone?"

That had, in fact, happened to Diego a few times. Not that he'd say so here.

"Some multilinguists find themselves locked to one language. Real pain if it's not their first. Anyone here got a second language kicking around in their head? Y'know, most people these days don't bother. Schools stopped offering language programs around the time translation buds climbed to version 2.0, 3.0--"

"I speak French!" Emily says, raising her hand and not waiting to be called on.

"Emily speaks French!" The sub repeats, delighted. "That's a skill, now, y'know. Back in... oops!" He braces his desk and waggles a finger. "Almost slipped up, there. We gotta be super careful what y'all learn and what order y'all learn it in. Buddy of mine? Couple of months ago? Told a orientee from Vietnam what had been going on in his country during his Interim. Full-blown panic attack, right in his seat. Nasty stuff, huh?"

Beat.

"Like a coma patient," Thomas suggests, slouched in his seat.

"... Like a coma patient! Y'know, the backbone of HRP rehabilitation is based on coma studies. Talk about an eradicated... anyone here been in a coma? For real?"

No hands. Nobody's been in a coma.

"Well! What we do nowadays is more or less what we did with y'all. If odds are slim the patient won't wake up in forty-eight, seventy-two hours, the doctors will just end the life and reset the ticker. Good as new!"

"...Moving along," the sub moves along. "Y'all are here to talk about your feelings. Ultimately. A little twee, I know, but we have the psych results. Doctors need to know how y'all are taking this in, so they know how to most comfortably transition you back into society. Make sense? We're really just here to talk. You'll notice the only homework is making note of these things--"

Surprising himself, Diego raises a hand.

"Diego! Yes. What's up, man?" The sub folds his legs and rests his clipboard on his awkwardly sticking knee. He licks his lips? Okay.

Diego says, "doctors told me not to tell people where my sample came from."

The sub chews on this for just a second. "Your doctor may have been giving that as social advice, not... sociologically--look, Diego, I think he was just looking out for you."

"Looking out for me how?"

"DNA constructs are sourced from a lot of places. They have to. Any sample is ample. That's the phrase, internally. That said, I know there's some... trace bullying, over where some people come from."

"Where you from?" Thomas says so faintly Diego thinks he's trying to whisper.

"Hm?"

"How bad is it?"

"I didn't think it was bad; doctor just told--"

Thomas make himself laugh before it's said: "Are you a semen sample?"

Diego hesitates. "... Everybody's a semen sample, dipshit."

"Okay, okay, let's take it down," the sub insists, wafting his clipboard at the negative energy. "Everyone like you comes from something. It really just depends on what's available. The majority are blood; really I think it's quite special to come from anything else."

"What's the second one?" Thomas asks. Trying to gauge whether he's one to talk, Diego thinks.

"Second is bone marrow, followed closely by teeth. Fourth and fifth are hair and skin cells respectively. I forget what's after that but blood is numero uno. Do we wanna talk about our DNA source? I say we--I have none but my parents. Lewis?"

"Doctor says it was blood."

"Common one, blood, like I said, and Maria--"

"Also blood."

"Also blood!" Chris, did your--"

"Topher. Also blood."

"How about raise your hand if you weren't blood."

Just Diego and Thomas, it seems. The LED lights in the ceiling don't have that same maddening buzz as fluorescents, but they may as well. He hates being looked at, Diego. Always did, as it pertains to classrooms--an environment he thought he was good and done with the moment he walked the high school podium. Adult bodies aren't built for these desks with the little tables coming off the side. He tries leaning back further and the weird rubber-plastic seat bends against his weight.

"Are either of you comfortable with saying what it was?" The sub asks.

"Well, my family's got a tomb," Thomas says. "So I guess they got me and--"

A tomb? Diego stops listening immediately so he can laugh in his head. Didn't realize he was sitting next to Khnum Khufu II. Who the fuck's got tombs? Is a family tomb the budget model, or should Diego take this to mean Thomas is even further up his own ass than he thought? Oh, those resurrection scientists had their pick of DNA samples, in his case.

"Interesting story," the sub claps his hands. "I'm sure where they got you wasn't that bad, Diego."

He swallows. "Spit."

"... Saliva!" Unclear if the sub's enthusiasm is that same plastic nicety he's been working all night or genuine interest. "That's a rare one, dude. Saliva's one of the first things a body loses. Buddy of mine says his brother..."

But Diego can't listen to this little apropos with Thomas leaning over and snickering "Bro came from spit."

So it's true. He will get bullied.

The story he told the group last week, when for some reason how did you die was the first order of business, should've made his spit origin logical. Why would anything but spit be left? He was mangled. Any blood they could've taken was running down Interstate 5 long before a paramedic could slide through with a Q-tip. How they saved his spit, well, he has a theory.

"... But enough about me, huh?" The sub is still saying. "I'm gonna ask you an easy question, and maybe after that we'll be ready for one of these harder ones. Everyone ready? Okay. Who was President of the United States when you first entered your Interim?"

Awful cagey about the dying thing, Diego thinks. The moment they died to now is a stretch of time everyone's been calling their "Interim." And while Diego recognizes that word from UFC fights, he doesn't have a definition handy. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn't heard anyone but his classmates even approach saying "death" or "died." A naughty word? Does he dare raise his hand and ask?

Thinking all this, Diego misses the president Lewis names. Hope they aren't quizzed on each other.

Quite proudly, on her turn Marianne answers "John F. Kennedy."

JFK? What, was she in the other seat? Diego certainly thinks this but thinks better of saying it. Out loud, at least. He must have said it under his breath since Thomas breathes out a snicker.

"Obama," he hears Christopher answer, but the sub's comment on this is interrupted by Diego raising his hand.

"Uh, yes? Diego?"

Shit. He forgets what he was about to ask. Something about... dying? He still can't remember what that question was, but his brain substitutes a thought he had yesterday.

"Sorry, just--just had a thought. Maybe you know. So... y'know, when you hear about serial killers and like shooters or whatever, when they go to prison the judge gives them five life sentences, nine life sentences. Now do those guys actually--"

"Actually have to serve five life sentences?" The sub finishes. "Technically true, but it's a little complicated. As I understand it works, a 'life sentence' has been capped at thirty years. In y'all's first time I believe it was somewhere close. So three life sentences? Ninety years."

"So like," Thomas rebounds, "you can't just go and kill yourself three times? Do they stop reviving you?"

"Actually, the state has an obligation to resurrect all citizens in custody. Can't skate the rules."

Resurrect. Always that word, too. All the way down to the name: Human Resurrection Project. He's also been saying revive, and he's always corrected.

Oh, right, that's what he was gonna ask.

"Why do you keep saying Interim?" Diego blurts.

The sub looks up from Emily. "Sorry?"

"Just, sorry, it's... we died, right?"

This sub is choosing his words carefully. "Your lives did end for an extended period," he obfuscates. "Our term for the point in time this happened to your first resurrection is what's called your Interim."

"I get that part, I was just like... curious--does anybody die?"

"None of you are jonesing to go back, yeah?"

No one raises their hand, but no one's consciously keeping it down, either.

"Might be too daredevil of me to tell y'all this now, because I don't think you should be running off to... here's the hard facts: yes, you can opt out of immediate resurrection. Plenty of people do! Or they have conditions where they would be resurrected."

Now it's Topher asking, "what do they mean by immediate resurrection?"

"Everybody's DNA sample is still kept in archive," the sub just comes out with, "regardless of their willingness to expire and stay expired."

That's the other word. Expire.

"If you'll allow me to argue in a direction you may not be hot towards," the sub says, "I think y'all have taken your first steps into a life truly worth living. Here's that hard question: raise a hand if, when you're life ended... there was ever a moment you were ready."

Maybe four out of nine hands go up. Diego's stays down.

"Collie's notes here say Lewis, Marianne, and Tony were natural causes. Christopher, Emily... Roger and Mark in the back, you were illnesses. Were, to make myself clear. Strong as an ox now, huh? Okay! So it's Thomas and Diego over there: accident. Both of you had your hands down?"

This is true.

"Cool! Or not cool? It's the past. They say y'all's cases have the hardest times adjusting to The Now. Logically we'd assume it's the ones who accepted their expiration, only to have that acceptance nullified by resurrection, that have the most difficulty... moving on, to use that old phrase. But the data favors the case of you two. Did it feel like a dream?"

Neither of the boys vocalize this, but it did feel like a dream. Nodding off on the surgery table.

"You went to sleep. Woke up. Centuries had passed. Quite the culture shock. Question for the accepters in here: did you think you were in heaven?"

Only Marianne did, it seems.

"What y'all have in common was the now outdated idea that, in the moment you expired, all this was over. What I want you to think about now, in these next few weeks, is your purpose. We can understand why the slow march towards oblivion once defined y'all's motivations--or lack thereof--in the same way we can understand why older people thought illness was divine punishment. But you're sticking around. As long as you want. What's your calling? You have nothing but time, and that is the blessing of science."

Roger asks if his parents are, or were, gonna be resurrected. The sub says it depends on available samples. But he should submit a query to the HRP archives department. Open twenty-four hours. Like everything.

Frosty was there to give Diego a ride back, like she only half-promised to. Depended on when her own re-orientation got out. It didn't take long to spy her rental car in the white LED parking lot, no. What took long was exchanging contacts with Thomas. QR codes were a lot faster, Diego thinks. Now you take a picture of someone's face which is cross-referenced with the citizen databanks. From there he had Thomas' phone number, which looked wrong until Diego remembered those are seventeen digits now.

Oh, awesome, Diego thinks, walking to Frosty's car and waving which she doesn't look up to see. Frosty managed to buy one of those FFreshh bars. He was over the moon when he saw disposable vapes had made their way to vending machines. Buying one was too cumbersome, however, and he was slightly embarrassed to have a small line form behind him while he was just trying to start buying one. Something about flavor profile matching and paying through a retina scan. Too much. If he sees one on the way back to the blocks maybe he'll ask Frosty to stop the car.

"What flavor did it give you?" he asks instead of saying hi.

Frosty rolls it in her hand like a coin. Flat enough for it. "Strawberry Daiquiri."

"Bum a smoke?"

"Oh, I dunno, buddy. Who knows what happens if you taste outside of your flavor profile."

They laugh. Diego is so happy she laughs, still.

Holy shit it does taste like a Daquiri. Eerily so. On some Wonka shit. Even has that throat burn under the menthol chill. But holy fuck he wants to cough. Working on several-hundred years without nicotine. Jumping into the deep end of this era's definition of tolerance just hurts. He swallows the pain. Bitch move, coughing around girls.

"They laughed about you in my class," Frosty admits. "Speaking of."

Diego says "Laughed at what?" and passes off his much needed cough like he's got allergies or something.

"Okay, so somebody asked about their parents--"

"Yeah, yeah, if they're gonna... same thing with mine. Sorry. Cut you off."

She snaps the vape back. "I said they were able to save my boyfriend."

"What's the funny part."

"How they did it. You know."

He does know. That theory of his. He was dead instantly. Frosty hung on for another hour or so before the fates took her away--of course before whatever the fuck the fates are doing now. Sad thing is she couldn't be identified by face. The pathologists had to cross reference her teeth with dental records. Good news is they got a match. Weird news is some of the saliva they collected for that careful DNA double-check wasn't hers.

Diego. Here but for the grace of Frosty's mouth.

"Should I thank you?" he wonders out loud.

"You did. Last Sunday."

Oh, yeah. Alcohol's stronger now.

"They said I'd get bullied," Diego says. "New guy. I had a sub this week."

Frosty doesn't keep that thread going. "I dunno if they got my parents," she breathes. "Do you know?"

"About mine? No, no. Doctors said they brought my cousin back like three months ago but I haven't seen him."

"I asked," Frosty says, taking another hit, "about my family," a half-octave down, "but they said I'm the first one."

"I heard getting people who were cremated is the hardest. So that rules out most of mine."

They lean against the car in no hurry back. What's there to be afraid of, in this genre of empty parking lot? Murder? Pssh. Thanks for the nap, maniac.

"Same," Frosty says. "Easy ones first. Guess it makes sense."

"Help me find the irony in this," Frosty breaks the silence. "We die, and... but we're the ones who... Y'know."

"Yeah, yeah," Diego says even though he doesn't. "What are your plans after they let us stop doing these?"

"I dunno, what are yours?"

"My only plan between these is taking walks and drinking those Not-Fees. Have you had one?"

"I can't enjoy walks. Too many ads." She points out to the horizon, to an orange glow on the hills like a TV in a dark room. "I'm sorry, you said Not-Fee?"

"It's like this milk thing. You'd like it."

"Ugh," she belches. "Literally, what is with all the milk. Milk tea? I get it. Straight milk? Who drinks tall glasses of milk?"

"You gotta try one. And I wanna try getting one of those FFreshh bars again. Mind if we swing past the mall on the way back?"

"Shopping block," she corrects him. "But sure."

It's something approaching uncomfortable, how smooth the roads are. And the alarmingly white street lamps, instead of that hypnotic yellow-orange you'd want from a late night freeway. They had decided without it being said that Frosty's the new driver.

[hardmountaindew]

if you see this no the FUCK you don't but having said that. no reblogs vent under readmore

IF AT ANY POINT YOU BELIEVE YOU CAN PARSE THE IDENTITIES OF ANY FOLLOWING SUBJECT ALIASES [3, 4, 5, 5², 5³, 5⁴, 5⁵, 7] EXIT THE READMORE!!!!

It feels like all of my friends are so busy right now. Everyone I know and hang out with has something else going on, and it's not their fault. I can't blame them, life is busy! I get that! It just feels, really strongly, like they're all finding time for things, though. Just not me. [7] and [5] are busy as hell obviously but it turns out they, well, at least [7], is hanging out with [5²] despite saying that [7] and I would hang out like last week :(. And I tried this weekend and [7] was, again, busy, after I canceled plans with [5³]

post canceled i just need friends with not 5 letter names

post uncanceled. anyways i canceled rave plans with [5³] bc i just had a long emotional conversation with [5²] and even THEN i felt like I was ignoring the stuff I felt and wanted to say just to make [5²] feel better AGAIN. because it's not like I've been doing everything I can to make other people feel better for the last like 5 years of my overactive guilty conscience!!! but I had to make [5²] feel better, of course, because IM not the most hurt one here, but then, it turns out [5²] was JUST HANGING OUT WITH [7]!!! IVE BEEN TRYING!!!!!!!! [7] HAD [5²] HELPING [7] CLEAN [7] APARTMENT!!! LIKE I HAVWNT BEEN TRYING TO TEXT THE GC FOR TWO WEEKS TRYING TO SEE [7+5]!!!! [5] isn't even replying anymore, and I KNOW [5] is busy but fuck ME if it doesn't seem like it's just ME Specifically Getting Ignored!!! I shouldn't have to text [5] individually just to get some kind of response (note I have not actually done that yet. If [5] is ignoring me for some reason that's HIS thing to navigate.) but like. three years or so. I've been trying to be helpful and nice amd funny and interesting and trying so hard not to talk too much about my interests because I've already made [7, 5²] involve themselves in my interests a fuck ton as it is, and [5] doesn't always do well with recommendations, which I have been trying so hard not to take personally because I know [5] doesn't mean it!!

Anyways I canceled the plans with [5³] to relax and not break down and because I also was supposed to hang out with [5⁴] and either watch my fav movie, a new show [5⁴] showed me, or I'd get to show [5⁴] one of the abandoned buildings nearby, which are all activities that LITERALLY MEAN THE WORLD TO ME!!! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FRIDAY then. [5⁴] wasn't feeling good. so we raincheck for sat. Well now, it's sat, and [5⁴] has to go home to visit [5⁴] family, so we put it off for Sunday, and then it's Sunday, and [5⁴] gets back, barely texts about how [5⁴] water just got shut off and how there's an errand [5⁴] has to run, then about how "I'm sorry I'm so exhausted" which I GET bc it's your PARENTS HOUSE trust me brother i understand. so i try to reach out to literally any of my friends that I'm pretty sure might have time. See previous for results on this test with [7]. I didn't text [5, 5², 5³] or [5⁴], bc [5] isn't responding, I canceled with [5³], i still need time and space IRT [5²], and [5⁴] obviously canceled on me three days in a row which means [5⁴] MAY have lied about not being tired of me. But it turns out [3] was busy, and doesn't really ask me to clarify much on what I'm upset about, and ofc I'm not reaching out to mom and dad about this shit, and [5⁵+4] were supposed to play minecraft with me like ALL WEEKEND AND [4] kept canceling because of his late ass work shifts (ENTIRELY JUSTIFIED) and [5⁵] was barely on, bored, and isolated the whole time, and that was only like, Saturday, the only day anybody beyond myself alone played!! [5⁵+4] aren't even replying in our group chat sometimes!!! [5⁵] was just sitting AFK in the nether all day yesterday which means he was ONLINE SOMETIME BEFORE I GOT ON AND DIDNT TELL ANYONE DESPITE ME AAKING IN THE GROUPCHAT IF ANYONE WANTED TO PLAY YESTERDAY!!!! This shit is why losing friends always hurts me so goddamn much, because it seems like no matter how long it takes someone always eventually decides I'm too much and they start to step away. And what am I supposed to do, bring it up? Get my attention back out of guilt?? What kind of fucking egomaniac would I have to beeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!! And sure there's inevitably a healthy way to communicate this stuff, but if they're BUSY I don't want to BOTHER them and if they're IGNORING ME then it doesn't MATTWR WHAT I SAY I GUESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hlmowrer]

Week 15: And just like that, another chapter written and abruptly closed

This week was a good week.  It's funny, because from a different perspective it was a terrible week.  There were many successes, but just about every single one of them seemed to fall apart.  Two interested people that had fallen off the map reached out and set up meetings...only for someone in their family to shut it down.  Dennis was super pumped to be baptized...only for a legal technicality to force him to wait another 6 months.  Andrew had a good start to the week, struggled on Thursday, was feeling good after a super spirit lead discussion on Friday, only to bail on Saturday despite having another really good spirit filled discussion...three hours before the baptism...after we had made many preparations and hyped up the whole church congregation.

Disappointing to say the least, not to mention stressful.  And yet, I didn't have a bad week.  Actually, I feel pretty dang good about it.  Why?  Because I know I did everything I could.  I felt the spirit guide me as I spoke in a way that has seldom happened on my mission so far.  I made better use of my time.  I made sure Dennis and Andrew knew how much faith I had in them, and still do.  I was able to see the hand of the Lord guiding me to people, even when they would soon decide to not listen.  And that feels good.  It really does.

So all of that happened, and then also I got a call on Friday morning from mission headquarters telling me I'm being transferred.  That was a cold shock, because I was completely confident that I would stay.  I've been here in Midland less time than Elder Wilchek, and I'm still pretty new.  I had made zero preparations to pack or say goodbye to anyone.  Yet, here I am.  I'll be leaving tomorrow for Kalkaska, a little village (yes, it's literally called a village under Michigan law) in the north, near Traverse City.  I've never lived in a town that small before, it will certainly be an adjustment.  More importantly though I'm just heartbroken to be leaving Midland.  I've really come to love this community and start to consider it home.  It's hard, because I get attached to people and places really easily and letting go of all that with four days notice is so, so hard.  At church I spoke about how progress often doesn't feel good...So many times in a row now have I naturally tried to attach myself to my surroundings only to have my life hastily move me along the instant I learn a life lesson and get the least bit comfortable.  It's so frustrating, but I know that it's simply because God knows there are better places and people prepared for me.  And, in all fairness, I have spent the better part of a decade praying for a fast forward button to my adulthood and its forever home and forever people.  So as sad as I am to leave, I'm also thankfully capable of looking forward to this.  Probably thanks to the same spiritual power that helped me feel good about the week's efforts.  It'll be a new adventure, and I haven't regretted a single one of those yet.

With that, I'm going to go have lunch at Panda Express.  Because it's the last time I'm gonna be anywhere near one for quite a while.

-Elder Beren Mowrer

Hey, look at you!  You actually looked at all my pictures!  Good job.  Here's a tidbit from a few weeks ago that I forgot to add.

Me:                      >*Makes some comment about being around too many "old" missionaries*

Elder Long:          > Oh yeah wait you're training aren't you?

                             > Wait, so that means you're going home in...

                             > *long pause while he thinks about it*

                             > ...Twenty Twenty fiv--- *can't even say it without dying of laughter*

Everyone but me: > *raucous laughter for several minutes*

[sunlightmurdock]

Trouble in Paradise | 1.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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Synopsis: After the most painful break-up of his life, Rooster is stationed in Hawaii for the next six months. Alone, away from home and hurting, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.

Warnings: no use of y/n, age gap (rooster is in his mid-30s, reader is in her early 20s), no major warnings for this chapter <3

…

It’s 3am. Three people are awake. Jake has his pillow pressed over his face to the point of borderline asphyxiation, trying to drown out the racket coming from the room next door. It’s the third night of this in a row.

“I know that she’s with you, just put her on the phone!”

Rooster has been arguing with Amy’s older sister all week. Sarah hasn’t budged on her stance and something tells Jake that tonight isn’t the night that she’s going to. He considers throwing something at the wall and screaming for Rooster to shut up.

“Because I love her, that’s why.” Rooster bites back. He’s rubbing his temple. He’s so tired that it hurts when it closes his eyes. He hasn’t slept much. The only thing he sees when he closes his eyes is your face in that fucking bathroom, looking up at him as you told him you loved him.

“Oh really?” Sarah scoffs down the line, “So when you looked into that girl’s eyes every day for the last four months — all you thought about was how much you loved Amy, huh?”

Rooster considers it. He thinks of each time he looked into your eyes. Each time he held your face in his hands and really looked at you. He can’t recall thinking of Amy once in a single one of those moments. In fact, the whole reason that he won't stop calling is because he can't get that image out of his head.

Neon purple coating your face, those pretty doe-eyes staring into his as you told him you loved him. Truthfully, he hadn't been thinking of Amy in that moment. He needs to make things right.

“Stop calling, Rooster.” Sarah says firmly. She hangs up on him for the third night in a row. This time, he doesn’t feel angry. He doesn’t feel the urge to throw his new phone at the wall and let it suffer the same fate as the last.

Rooster feels lost.

Like the way he felt when he arrived, really.

He’s beginning to understand that Amy is gone for good. She has moved her things out of their apartment. She got stitches in that hand that she messed up punching through their engagement photo. The crying hasn’t quite stopped yet. No one’s expecting her to be over it just yet.

Rooster feels guilty. He knows that much. He just isn't sure of his feelings. He's sitting on his bed by the window, staring out over the harbour and just thinking about it now.

Each wave that rolls towards the shore interrupts his thoughts. His feelings are scattered, they don't make sense - he can't tell where one feeling begins and another ends. The ocean is dark, the light of the moon reflecting off of its surface and glistening with the tide.

Rooster knows that he feels guilty. Before now, he hadn't been so sure that it was guilt that he was feeling. Now, it's as clear as the reflection of the moonlight on the waves.

Rooster chooses to focus on the tide over his guilt. It's all to devastating of a realisation for this time of night. That it's just guilt. That it's been guilt the entire time. The realisation that he doesn't think of her most days - doesn't miss her when she isn't around. Sure, when prompted, certain feelings arise.

He remembers feeling a certain way about her. Remembers hearing her laugh in his dreams, falling asleep to the sound of her heartbeat, falling for her smile.

But in these past four months, he hasn't once missed a single one of those things. He wonders how long it has been since he loved her. Bradley wonders when he stopped. He knows it was before he got here. He can't bring himself to wrap his head around the idea that love and guilt are so interchangeable in his head that he had lulled himself into not realising.

All those arguments, all those cruel exchanges between he and Amy. All of the times that Rooster ignored that tiny voice in his brain saying just let go. All of this mess. All to keep his plan on track.

Jake thinks a miracle has occurred when glorious silence fills his ears. He takes in a breath of air and tucks his pillow back under his head, trying to knock himself out before Rooster decides to call back.

You’re up too. You’re too drunk to sleep. It feels kind of like you’re on a boat. You’re laying on your back in your bed, staring at the ceiling and breathing softly. It’s dark in your room, the street lamp outside providing the only light. If you listen closely, you can hear the waves from the beach. Can taste the salt in the air. If you don’t focus hard enough to listen to the waves, you can still hear club music blaring in your ears from earlier in the night.

You’re just breathing. Deep breaths in, soft breaths out. Closing your eyes and opening them again. Just thinking. You wish you weren’t. Wish you could stop.

You’re on the opening shift tomorrow and you know you’ll be filled with regret when you have to get up in five hours if you don’t go to sleep soon. You consider crossing the hall and crawling into Ella's bed, then remember that she has someone over. You sigh softly and pull one of your pillows into your arms.

You could always call Cody. Even drunk, you scoff at the thought. The only thing Cody's good for is three minutes of disappointing oral and an argument. Instead, you grab your phone and squint at it to try to stop it from blurring into two separate objects.

You manage. You hit the contact and hit speaker, then rest the phone on your stomach and go back to staring at the ceiling.

“City morgue.” You greet.

“Not funny. What did you do?” You haven’t called in over a year. He only hears from you when you’ve done something wrong. It’s 3am where you are, he isn’t expecting anything good to come from this conversation. Honestly, he was half expecting to hear Honolulu City Jail.

It’s not funny because he really does fear that one of these days it really will be the morgue, with the stupid shit you have pulled. You've been better recently. Especially after you broke up with Cody. He only thinks that things are bad because he doesn't care enough to ask about the good. You've been so good recently. Still, hospital bills are your main form of communication these days. Reckless behaviour has always been his biggest pet peeve — he has no tolerance for it.

You have no tolerance for him.

“Nothing, I just… I had a question.” You wipe at your eyes. You aren’t crying, it’s just becoming a reflex now. The man sighs.

“Fine.”

Always a charmer. You giggle softly at the thought, then pinch the bridge of your nose. He isn't amused in the slightest by your laughter. You know you're pissing him off. The silence on the line is so loud.

“Did you love Mom?”

He’s sick of these kind of questions. You’ve been told thousands of times to quit asking that stupid shit. You need to know. You've heard a couple of different answers, nothing ever sticks. You need the truth now more than ever.

“Sure.” It’s that kind of answer that reminds you why you don’t call him. You close your eyes for a moment. You breathe. You pretend you aren’t devastated by the weight of your mistake. How it mimics hers.

“Why’d you do it?” You’ve asked it before. You’ll probably ask it again. He never answers. Not the way you want him to.

“Maybe when you’re older, and you love someone, you’ll get it.”

You are older. He always forgets that just because he hasn’t seen you since you were a kid, doesn’t mean you still are. You are in love. You’re just as dumb and in love as she was. You still don’t get it. There's not one atom of your being that can fathom what drives a man like your father to ruin someone like your mother.

There’s a beat of silence. He has nothing more to say to you.

“Night, Joe.” It’s morning where he is. He doesn’t expect you to know that. The line clicks dead without another word from him. He used to insist that you called him Dad, as a sign of respect or something — he can’t bring himself to care much anymore.

You shift slightly, then close your eyes. Try to sleep. Toss and turn some. Think about the day you found out your Father had cheated on your mother. Think about the fact that he had cheated on her with fifteen different women in a nine year marriage. Think about the woman she became after.

You can't take much more of that kind of thinking. Then, you play some rain sounds and hope that’s enough to make you stop thinking.

It works. Sun streaming through your window wakes you. You groan softly in complaint. It had become Rooster’s role to make sure the curtains were shut. You stretch your fingertips outward to the side of the bed that had become his. You trail your fingertips over the empty space now.

You wonder which side of the bed he takes at home. Is it the right side too? — Does right or left even matter? His side is the closest to the door and that’s what’s most important to you, you never sleep that side. You wonder how much of what you shared with him, he also shared with her.

Then, you remind yourself to stop thinking about him. He didn’t think of you when he chose to break your heart. Your hand pulls back in against your chest as you stare at the empty space in the sheets. You wonder if he’s thinking of you now.

You don’t know where to go from here. Physically and emotionally.

You’re furious, of course. He broke your heart into a million pieces and all he cared about was her. It keeps you up at night — the question of how much of it was real. You just want the wondering to stop. Answers would be nice, if you could stand the thought of seeing his face.

Things were simpler when you had dated Cody. Cody was a shithead. Plain and simple. Not only to you. He wasn’t ever particularly kind to you, wasn’t a hopeless romantic, wasn’t even a particularly good person. That made it all so simple. When he hurt you, it was because he was just a shithead.

The thing is, you don’t think that Rooster’s like that. It just doesn’t make sense. You asked him on that very first day if there was anyone and he told you no. He had every opportunity and he chose not to say. But you just can’t bring yourself to believe that he’s the same as Cody.

You push yourself up and get on with your morning. Operating on auto-pilot until you’re on the other side of the bar. It’s as quiet as always today, just a weekday morning, you can get away with listening to whatever you want.

You’re swaying to a little bit of Lana, cleaning the beer taps and humming softly. Maybe it’s one of her more melancholy tracks, but it’s by no means a heartbreaking sob song.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” Abi asks gently. You turn your head to find her leaning against the far end of the bar. She doesn’t say I told you so, but her eyes do. You wonder what it is exactly that has given you away.

You’re dressed the same way you normally are. It’s not as if you’re sobbing on the spot. In fact, you haven’t really cried much at all since that first day. You can’t bring yourself to cry.

Above it all, you just feel so stupid.

You look down, watching your reflection in the sparkling nozzle of the beer tap. You’ve been polishing the same one for six minutes now. It really wasn’t even that dirty to begin with.

“Fine.” You confirm. You’re always fine.

“Did you want to talk-“

“No,” You shake your head quickly, polishing the tap. “No. It’s all good. Really.”

Abigail nods. She rests her palms against the bar and sighs softly. She rocks back and forth on her heels, pursing her lips for a moment. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but I know that you’re going to be okay.”

You nod in agreement, though you aren’t so sure. You look down and busy yourself with cleaning, just so you don’t have to look at her. If you have to see the sympathy in her eyes for a second longer then you might just cry. You don’t want sympathy. You don’t want to cry.

Her footsteps trail away. She heads for the office. You’ve always dealt with these things better alone.

You pull your phone from your pocket. Scroll through pictures to the tune of another Lana del Ray classic. Four months of him. The earliest picture you have of him is barely even him. It’s the day he wanted to be tourists. The day you fucked in his truck.

It’s a picture of the Pacific from that mountain side. His shoulder is just in frame, the curve of his neck, his Sandy hair just visible under the backwards baseball cap. He fits into the scenery so perfectly. Like he’s meant to be there.

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Just you thinking that he belongs here with you.

The first picture you have of his face is from a few days after that. It’s a video. He’s walking up ahead of you on the beach by the house, tossing a rock that he found up in the air and catching it again. The video pans towards the sunset and when it returns back to him, he’s looking at you over his shoulder and smiling.

He reaches his hand back to grab yours. The sound is off but you watch him say, “Come here.” and the video stops. You flick through the memories. You watch yourself falling for him through snapshots and short videos.

It’s so confusing.

He looks so happy. There’s one where you’re led on his chest on the beach. Your arms folded over his ribs, your chin resting on your hands. He has one arm draped over his eyes. You’re grinning at the camera and he’s smiling lazily. Kit took it. Or maybe Ella. You aren’t sure.

You don’t understand how it could have all been a lie.

“Hi there.”

You jump, almost dropping your phone into the ice machine as you look up quickly. There’s a man there in Navy khakis, smiling at you as he leans on the other side of the bar. You let out a breath and smile politely.

“Hi, sorry — what can I get you?”

“Just a beer, thanks.” He settles into one of the stools in front of the bar. Service with a smile. He watches as you turn and pull a bottled beer from the fridge behind you, breaking off the cap and setting it in front of him.

“You here for long?” You ask, just making conversation like you always do.

“Six more months.” He nods, taking a sip from the bottle. You stare at him. He’s handsome enough, though it looks like his nose may have been broken once or twice. Likely the fighting type. He’s older than you, but younger than Rooster — based on looks, that is.

“What are you here for?” You ask, leaning back against the counter behind you. He smiles, pleased to have someone to talk to. It’s a pretty smile, but it isn’t Rooster.

“Oh, you know, just saving the world, fighting for your freedoms. The usual stuff.” He answers. Funny too. Your heart hurts. You’re smiling at him just to keep from crying.

You don’t even know why.

The bar is twenty minutes from Pearl Harbour. The entire area is crawling with Navy men. But this one, sitting in front of you, all alone and pleased that a pretty girl is smiling at him, makes you want to collapse to the floor and cry your heart out.

“Should I be thanking you for your service?” You ask. His grin widens as he raises and shrugs his shoulders.

“No, that’s okay. But you could give me your number if you really wanted to make me happy?” It’s not the worst pickup line you’ve heard, and he isn’t creepy about the way he asks for it. In another universe, maybe you would say yes. He watches you hesitate.

“You don’t have to. You have a boyfriend or something?” He asks.

“Not anymore.” Was he ever even your boyfriend? Sure, he said he was — but he said a lot of things. Your head spins, you grab the counter to steady yourself. You brain threatens to send another flood of tears.

It’s clear that you still aren’t planning to give him your number, but he doesn’t seem to mind too much. He just drums his fingers on the wooden bar top.

“Must’ve been a real idiot to lose someone as pretty as you.” He smiles at you again and takes a drink. You just smile and wish that Rooster saw it that way.

You almost stand there and cry. You aren’t sure which one of you is more of an idiot, you or him. You were warned — you’ve been warned your whole life. Even your own father taught you that men will say anything to be forgiven.

You swallow the lump in your throat and wink at the sailor, brave face secured and steady.

Rooster feels like an idiot. He's sitting on the floor of his room. He has rewritten the same message over and over. There's that guilt again. He watches the line blink as it awaits more words. Rooster agrees - he feels like there's more to say. There should be.

He owes her a real explanation. He has from the beginning. Only, after breaking someone's heart and tarnishing every single memory they possess of you - there's no nice way to say I'm sorry, I did it because I didn't love you like I thought I did.

I'm sorry that I held on so tight. Hurt you trying to keep you with me. That I pulled away so hard that I hurt us both.

It's an essay. Not an easy one to read. He wishes he could say it to her face, but he doesn't blame her for not picking up his calls. He just needs her to know that it was never her fault.

Once the final goodbye has been sent and delivered, Rooster sits back and rests his head against the wall behind him. He lets out a heavy breath and greedily takes in another. Then another. His chest tightens. The room seems to be breathing with him, growing and shrinking with each rise and fall of his ribs.

He pushes himself up and grabs his keys. He doesn't know where he's going until he's already in the drivers' seat. It's night time, already dark - he has been working all day.

Rooster ends up at the North Shore. It's almost an hours drive. It's darker at this end of the island, the street lamps are fewer and far between. The stars are brighter. He parks up near the beach and gets out of the truck.

Sea breeze hits his face. He walks around to the front of the truck and lifts himself onto the hood. He raises his chin, turning it towards the stars. Bradley wishes you were here to see this. To show him it. He knows exactly how you would smile, how you'd probably lie back against the windshield and say something that would make him laugh.

So, he lies back against the windshield and watches the sky. Breathes in salty air. Feels the breeze on his skin, the ghost of a chill beginning to set in now that it's late November. It's still not cold, but there's a chill setting in.

He mourns the loss of his plan. Of each thing he had taken to be a certainty. Of what the rest of his life was supposed to be. It's not entirely a sadness.

He closes his eyes and watches the stars on the inside of his lids. Bradley might be mourning the loss of one life, here and now, on the north shore of Oahu, but there's a comfort in the pit of his stomach. One that hasn't quite settled his racing heart or worrying brain just yet. The knowledge that he's going to be okay.

Goose didn't have a plan. Sure, he had planned to be a pilot. But he hadn't planned to meet a feisty blonde that night on the boardwalk. He hadn't planned to fall in love. Bradley considers it now and smiles. He knows for a fact that his father probably didn't once worry that he was with the wrong girl. That his father had looked into those lively blue eyes and felt secure in the fact that whatever happened, this girl was his future.

Bradley has always known that he wasn't planned. It's the reason he doesn't have siblings. The Bradshaws had found out they were expecting before they had even gotten engaged. Bradley himself hadn't been part of the plan. But it turned out okay. They were happy.

He can be happy.

Maybe he doesn’t deserve to be. That first day plays in his mind. Four months ago, on an afternoon in July. Letting you drive him to the beach near your house. You rushing off ahead, stripping out of your clothes.

Not one care in the world when he asked you what you did. What you were going to do.

"Just figuring things out."

No end in sight - no deadline, no rush. He’s been like a caged animal these last few days. Furious with everyone. Everything. Himself. Determined to fix this and get everything back on track. To say what he needs to say to keep things running smoothly, whether he means any of it or not.

He breathes in, deep and slow. Bradley holds the breath in his chest until he feels ready to let it go. He exhales slowly, opening his eyes to blink up at the sky ahead of him. It's time to figure things out.

…

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