#notebooks in case i need to write somethin down

[crowsent]

it actually helps w lessenin anxiety. if you bring a bag prepared for a lot of scenarios your head doesnt scream at you when you take one foot outside 10/10 would recommend

wait do you guys actually carry purses/bags everywhere you go i really need to know

[usermischief]

♙Pairing: Stackson ♙Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Jackson Whittemore ♙Warnings/Tags: slice of life, road trip, established relationship ♙Words: 990 ♙Dialogue Prompt: "We're not asking the dragon for directions." ♙Mini Fic Roulette: 32/∞

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“Dude, we’re not asking the dragon for directions.”

Stiles squints at the questionably majestic creature standing on the sidewalk in the burning sun, waving a sign for Lenny’s Diner around. “I’m not spending another hour in your Porsche, Whittemore.” As great as this car is, it’s not at all suitable for a 6-hour long road trip. But they’ve been in here for almost 8 hours now, and Stiles really needs to move, or he is going to kill someone. “Also, that’s a dinosaur.” 

Jackson squints into the sun. “It has wings.” 

“You do know dinosaurs with wings existed, right?”

“Not looking like this,” Jackson shoots back, and he does slow down the car, although Stiles can’t say for sure if it’s because of the sun getting dangerously low or the realization that they do have to talk to someone to find their way to the cabin they rented. 

Stiles runs his hands over his face. “Jackson, I love you, I do, but if you don’t let me ask for directions, they’re going to find parts of your body in multiple states.” As stubborn as Stiles is, nothing beats Jackson’s pride. There aren’t many ways around it, but Stiles found two that usually help. One of them is bribing him with sex, the other is threatening to kill him. It really depends on his mood which one he chooses. The fact that the latter works should probably be at least somewhat concerning. That means Jackson either thinks Stiles is capable of murder — and getting away with it — or he knows that he only threatens to dump his body all over the US when he’s at the end of his patience. 

Muttering something under his breath Stiles doesn’t catch, Jackson sets the blinker and brings the car to a stop. 

Stiles opens the window, instantly hating the humid air pushing into the car. How this mascot survives in this heat is beyond him. “Hey, sorry.” 

The dinosaur wanders over to them. Up close, the costume does look like a dragon. Stiles grimaces. “‘Sup?” The guy pushes the head up to reveal a confident smile and an impressive amount of freckles. His green eyes jump from Stiles to Jackson and back again. “Nice car.” 

“Thanks,” Jackson replies tersely and seemingly a lot more interested in whatever is going on on the other side of the street. 

“Sorry to bother you,” Stiles says, turning on his seat to face the guy directly, “but we’re looking for Ithaca Falls, and I think we ended up taking a wrong turn.” Or three. It’s hard to tell since Jackson insisted he knew exactly where he was going when he clearly didn’t. The next time they go on a no-phones vacation, they leave them in the car when they arrive instead of nightstands at home. But they both know they will not have any sort of relaxation with their phones anywhere near them, not as a lawyer and an FBI agent for the supernatural. Their jobs are crazy, and the only reason their relationship works out in the first place is with strict rules and the bonus of working the same case on multiple occasions. 

“Yeah, so, you passed the exit already,” Mascot Man chuckles and leans against the hood of the car despite Jackson’s withering stare. "You gotta go back— you got a phone or a map or somethin'? I could show you." He takes his head off, revealing a mess of red curls plastered to his sweaty forehead. 

"No, sorry." Stiles contemplates. He's never going to remember the way, and he doesn't trust Jackson to do so either after getting them in this mess in the first place. "Could you write it down?" Stiles opens the glovebox. The one thing about him is that he's got pens and notebooks everywhere in case he's got to write something down for his job, or simply because he needs to remember something. 

The guy nods and takes the notebook with a grin. "Sure, hold on. It's not far," he explains while taking a glove off with his teeth. "Just a bitch to find."

Raising a brow, Stiles turns to Jackson and mouths, "Map, asshole."

Jackson merely rolls his eyes. He'd never admit that they'd never find it without this guy's help, no matter how complicated the way ends up being.

When the guy is done writing, he hands the notebook back in. 

"Thank you." Stiles puts the notebook on his leg, contemplating the instructions briefly. It's really not that far, around thirty minutes by the looks of it. 

"You're welcome," the guy grins. "And if you're hungry, Lenny's diner is just around the corner."

This finally got Jackson's attention. He leans towards the window and peers at their helper, placing his hand so high on his thigh, everyone and their brother knows he has intimate knowledge of every inch of Stiles’ dick. "We're good, thanks." He revs the engine and all but shoots away from the curb.

With a tight smile, Stiles pats his boyfriend’s hand before squeezing his fingers. "Seriously."

Jackson sets the blinker, so intent on leaving the mascot behind, he doesn't even bother to make a U-turn. “I didn’t like the way he looked at you.” Funnily enough, Lydia warned him about how irrationally possessive Jackson can become — not just when it comes to him. He’s also exceptionally possessive when it comes to his best friend, Danny. Jackson made it abundantly clear multiple times that Danny is, in fact, Jackson’s best friend. It’s only funny as long as you don’t look too close. 

“He’s a very polite dragon,” Stiles replies softly. 

Jackson squeezes his thigh with a smile. “Well, where’d he tell us to go?” 

They don’t always apologize, but sometimes admitting they were wrong is just as good. Yawning, Stiles sinks deeper into his seat. “We gotta go left behind the next target then head east for a bit.” 

Jackson nods and sets the blinker. 

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here. 

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield… 

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over. 

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes... 

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up… 

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory. 

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!! 

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus 

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub 

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night… 

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor 

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑 

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully… 

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

[cinnawrites]

Signs of Attraction

A/N; This is a oneshot version of a longer Settphel fic I’m planning on writing. I really do love writing quick and sweet pieces, but I loved this concept so much that I’m turning it into something longer. We’ll see if I ever even go through with that idea (99.99% sure I will).

Aphelios never liked to speak.

Sure, he’d talk to his sister, Alune, when they were completely alone, but otherwise he wouldn’t utter a word. He picked up on sign language to compensate when he was really young, Alune’s idea. This led a lot of people to believe that he was deaf, the sign language really didn’t help his case. A lot of people including his closest friend, Sett.

Aphelios never bothered to talk to Sett either. Part of him didn’t really care if he also thought he was deaf, it didn’t change anything either way. Things were complicated when they first met, but eventually they understood each other.

“Sorry, what now? Think you could speak up or somethin’?” Sett asked in complete confusion. They first met in one of their college classes, Aphelios couldn’t remember which. He was kind of scared of Sett to be fair. Having a title of ''Beast-Man-Bastard'' wasn't very friendly. He had tried signing what he wanted to say, but Sett didn’t understand any of it. He quickly reached down into his bag, pulling out a notebook and pen and writing down what he wanted to say.

“I’m Aphelios. Your partner for this project.” Aphelios wrote on the paper, carefully showing it to Sett, “I’m deaf, so please write what you want to say here.” Aphelios didn’t want to lie, but it was much easier for him to go along with what everyone was saying about him.

“Shit, sorry,” Sett said under his breath. Aphelios heard him and smiled softly. Sett took the notebook and pen from his hands and wrote what he wanted to say, muttering the words as he wrote, “Sorry, I had no idea. I don’t know sign language or anything so I guess this would be easier.”

Sett’s handwriting was messy, only being somewhat legible. Aphelios squinted, trying to read what he wrote. He looked back up at Sett and smiled.

“It’s fine.” Aphelios scribbled onto the paper, “Would you like to start working now?”

The two began working on their project, Sett occasionally forgetting Aphelios is deaf and trying to talk to him. Aphelios found it kind of cute when Sett would immediately reach for the notebook and start scribbling down what he was trying to say. He’d occasionally even hear Sett mutter to himself while writing. To think someone like him would be this gentle when not punching people into the ground was strange. Here he was though, not so threatening up close.

Aphelios felt comfortable around him.

The two met up a few more times after that to do their work. It was kind of a long project, requiring lots of time to work on. Neither of them seemed to mind it though. Sure, Sett’s friends were annoying him for leaving them to do work, but he couldn’t care less. As for Aphelios, he never really had much to do in the first place, so this was refreshing. Except for constantly being around Alune. He finally had someone else to hang out with.

“Are you sure about him? He isn’t being mean to you or anything?” Alune asked him, concern laced in her voice, and gripping tightly on his shoulders. They were, for the most part, alone, so speaking was fine for the both of them. 

Aphelios used to get bullied for being ‘deaf’ and Alune would always defend him. He never wanted to speak up for himself, he didn’t find the need to. He could ignore them, continue about his day, but Alune wasn’t going to let that happen. She cared too much for her brother to let that happen to him. He loved that about her regardless of the trouble it’s gotten her into.

“I’m fine. He’s fine. He hasn’t been anything but nice to me, Alune. You have to trust me on this,” Aphelios assured her in a whisper. She let out a deep sigh in response.

“Just, please be careful,” Alune said, tailing her hands on Aphelios’ arms down to his hands. She held them tight before turning away. He sighed and went on his way as well. 

He was happy to have Alune by his side, always looking out for him. He found it comforting having one person to rely on. He found it comforting not to have too many people to care about. It was Alune and Aphelios against the world, and he liked it that way.

He felt like changing that.

He wanted to trust Sett as much as he did Alune. They had only been hanging out to do work, the both of them being with each other in silence. It was all just for school work, but Aphelios really enjoyed his company. He wanted to stay around him more, but couldn’t find a way how. 

Well, that was until Sett changed that first.

Sett pulled out a paper from his pocket and handed it to Aphelios. It read, “Could ya teach me sign language? Might be easier than this whole paper thing.”

Aphelios was shocked by the suggestion, but didn’t turn it down. He was waiting for an opportunity like this, where the two of them would have to hang out more. It’s almost like everything was going the way he wanted. Sign language is difficult to learn, it’ll take years for Sett to become fluent. That’s okay though, Aphelios would try his best to teach him the important parts. Maybe they’d even get to do things together outside of just learning sign language. 

Aphelios sat him down immediately and began teaching him the basics.

Sett struggled a little with the hand movements. He had never done anything like this before, but was still trying his best at it. Aphelios smiled watching him try and get the hang of it. He’d occasionally lean in and fix Sett’s hand placement and movements, carefully trailing his fingers along his. Sett’s hands were rough, probably because of all the fights he’s gotten into. His touch didn’t feel so bad though. Aphelios liked it quite a lot.

They began meeting up at other places, whether it be around campus or not, to continue their sign language lessons. Sett seemed to be getting the hang of it. Aphelios congratulated him for it. He’d still go ahead and fix up his hands and repeat the movements to help him out. There were rare moments where Sett would ever so slightly hold onto his, quickly pulling away. Aphelios did the same at times.

They were getting closer and closer by the minute. Just what he wanted.

It came to a point where they stopped just meeting up for sign language lessons. They'd actually spend time together, doing things they never expected they would. People never expected to see them around each other like this, but it was normal. This was now normal. 

And now here they were, hanging out as usual. They were together almost all day, having fun and all. Eventually, they decided to just relax and watch the sunset before they would part ways again. 

"The sunset's beautiful, isn't it?" Sett signed. His previous mistakes and difficulties with signing were almost completely gone, he could make coherent sentences. Aphelios mentally gave himself a pat on the back for teaching him so well.

"Yeah it is." Aphelios signed back, smiling softly. He looked away from Sett, observing the view carefully. It really was pretty.

"Not as beautiful as you though," Sett said out loud. Aphelios' eyes widened, but he quickly calmed himself down as to not blow his cover. Luckily for him, Sett wasn't paying too much attention to him, "Ah, I'm such a coward. That was so corny too. If only I could tell you how much I loved ya'. Guess that'll have to wait until later on, huh?"

Aphelios sat there in shock. Sett knew he was deaf. Well, more so thought he was deaf. His breath hitched, the heat rising to his cheeks. Sett turned to look at him and noticed his expression.

"Aphelios-" He stopped mid-sentence, remembering he couldn't speak to him. He moved his hand over to nudge at his shoulder, but Aphelios turned to face him before he could.

"What?"

Aphelios never liked to speak.

He went along with being deaf for years and years on end because it was just easier.

This was finally the one exception.

[date posted; 22.01.21]

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet ugly asks, 08 with the ot4 if that’s ok? (the note in the locker one, in case I have the wrong number). rating up to you! :)

Here you go! I went NSFW

Joseph is not missing his chance. Not again.

If he’s keeping count, which he’s certainly not, he’s missed fifty-two chances between fifth grade and now.

Barclay’s family moved next door in the summer of 1951, causing eleven year old Joseph to learn very quickly what it’s like to have someone whose side you never want to leave. Lucky for him, Barclay felt the same way; they were in the same boyscout troop, were each others first choice for sleep overs or outings where they were allowed to take one friend. When they hit high school, Barclay went out for football because Joseph did (and Joseph did because that’s what upstanding young men do). They played together all four years, Barclays growth spurt rendering him doubly dangerous on defense and the dominant source of Joseph’s late-night fantasies. Joseph did debate club alone, but Barclay joined him for chess club. And when Barclay bought his car, his first stop was to take Joseph cruising, just the two of them.

Unluckily, Joseph’s never worked up the nerve to tell Barclay how he feels. This may be why he hasn’t had a date since the spring hop two years ago, while Barclay’s had quite a few (cheerleaders and band boys alike can’t seem to resist his physique and general gentleness).

That all changes today. Joseph slipped a note into Barclays locker right before lunch that conveyed all relevant information.

Dear you,

Drive in on Friday? We can park in the back row.

Love,

Joseph.

He’s sitting in his normal spot on the bench near the cafeteria, doing his best impersonation of someone who’s heart isn’t in his throat.

As he’s scanning the crowd, none other than Duck Newton begins weaving his way over to him, leather jacket reflecting the sun and his black hair combed back as always. Joseph was wary of him for years--as any good square is of kids from the rough side of town--until they got paired together in biology their senior year. Duck, who seems not to give a shit about school the rest of the time, is incredibly good at science. And he’s funny, nearly got them both kept after class for cracking a joke that made Joseph lose his breath laughing.

The problem is, right now he’s waving a very familiar piece of paper.

“Gotta say, I’m pretty fuckin flattered, Joe. But, uh” he leans on the table, smiling playfully, “I gotta make sure ‘Drid is okay with me playin backseat bingo with someone who ain’t him.”

“Um.” Joseph shakes his head, trying not to focus on the idea of Duck holding his head in his lap in the dark corner of the drive in, “I, I’m so sorry. I must have been nervous enough to put the note in the wrong locker. Not, not that you’re not a catch.”

Duck raises his eyebrow, “1650 or 1652?”

“1652.”

“Huh. Well, I got shop class with Barclay. You want me to just give it to him?”

“No.” Joseph holds out his hand.

Duck places the letter in it with a shrug, “Suit yourself, slick. See you later.”

Joseph rips the letter to shreds, tosses it in the trash, and hopes that’s the end of this humiliating error.

It’s not.

“Hello, Joseph.” Indrid Cold rests a shoulder on the locker next to his. There’s no one in Kepler High quite like him; his family moved from California three years ago, which most people use as the explanation for Indrid’s red glasses, crystal necklace, and pale hair that is always a quarter-inch shy of the principal writing him up for it. He’s never struck Joseph as the kind to fight, but he did mistakenly proposition his boyfriend three hours ago.

“Indrid. How can I help you?”

The taller boy hands him a folded slip of notebook paper, “By taking me up on this invitation.”

Before Joseph can ask any questions, Indrid is disappearing down the hall. The paper contains a hand drawn map to an X, under which is the word “Bash” but nothing else. Joseph has never been invited to any kind of party that needed a secret map. He mostly just gets invited to get togethers because he’s the captain of the football team. No one talks to him once he’s there. Well, except Barclay.

He stares at the map; he doesn’t have to be home until ten. He’s never going to get a chance to make the scene like this again.

Joseph shuts his locker and hurries to his car.

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

Indrid’s remarkably accurate map leads him to a dirt parking lot beneath the sign for Amnesty Point. As he follows the signs for the “beach house,” a Coaster’s song drifts through the air, underscored by splashes from the lake to his right. He’s deep in the woods on the wrong side of the tracks, but even so he’s unprepared for how everyone lounging around the weathered picnic tables on a shaded patio stops talking and stares at him.

“Who the fuck invited the square?” Someone whispers, making him wish he hadn’t left the map in the car.

“Joseph?”

He turns so fast the gravel flies. Barclay, clad in a grease-stained apron, is smiling so bright it evaporates his nervousness.

“Hi, big guy.”

His friend hoists him in a hug, “I’m so glad you’re here, Indrid said he invited you but I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“He piqued my curiosity. Um, is this the new job you were so cagey about?”

“Yep. Mama--she runs this place--pays real well, but tries to keep Amnesty Point kinda secret. Cops just love busting places like this up for no reason.”

Joseph nods, still a little hurt Barclay didn’t trust him enough to share where he worked. His friend must notice the dip in his smile before he hides it, because he adds, “It’s gonna be even better working here now that you know where to find me. Listen, um, I gotta get back before Jake sets something on fire, but the burger stand closes at eight. I’ll come find you after that. Duck and Indrid are down by the dock, if you want company.”

He absolutely does, since the alternative is looking even more out of place by being the only person here alone.

When he hits the grey sand, Duck is just pulling himself back onto dry land. The half moon scars on his chest are the only reminders of the trip he took to San Francisco last summer.

“Glad you showed up, slick. Day like this, the water is the only nice place to be.”

“I wish I’d known, I would have brought my swim shorts.” Maybe if he rolls up his pant legs he can get some relief from the heat…

“Could just go in your boxers. I won’t tell.” Duck winks.

“Nothing is also allowed.” Indrid lilts, floating past on his back.

Joseph looks at him, then at the planks of the dock because Indrid is also demonstrating that second option without a care.

Duck snickers, “sugar, put somethin on, you’re scandalizin’ the poor guy.”

“Very well. But I demand help with the sunblock in payment for quashing my self-expression this way.”

“You’re soundin like your pops there, ‘Drid.”

“....ugh, you’re right.” A splash and the soft fwup of a towel, “alright, Joseph, I’m decent.” He is, but his swim shorts leave very little to the imagination. Joseph stares a moment too long, notices Duck smirking when he looks away.

The greaser holds out a bottle of sunblock and they get to work.

“Goddamn, this wouldn’t take so long if you weren’t so fuckin long everywhere.”

“You’ve never complained about that before.” Indrid grins, red sunglasses hiding his eyes. He doesn’t lift a finger to help them, but Duck seems to get a kick from it. Joseph wonders if he spoils Indrid like this in everything they do. If Indrid ever does it back.

(If either of them would do it for him).

They spend the evening talking, Duck skipping stones and Indrid sunning himself while Joseph dangles his legs in the water. When they get back to the beach house Joseph receives fewer stares, Duck and Indrid’s company substituting for cool. He and Duck get a real dinner, but Indrid opts to down three Cokes in place of a meal.

When Barclay closes up shop, he’s immediately at Joseph’s side. Joseph is about to suggest they all go for a walk when Indrid winks at Barclay and steers Duck towards the trees with a promise to see Joseph at school tomorrow.

“You get on okay while I was working?” Barclay starts them on a path towards the edge of the point.

“I did. It was actually really nice just to spend time talking with people who like me. Or at least don’t hate me enough to shove me in the water fully clothed.”

“Nah, they’re not those kind of guys. Hell, it was their idea to invite you here. I was, uh, I was too shy.”

He stops, turning to face Barclay, “what do mean?”

“Duck told me about the note.”

“Oh lord.”

“Not on purpose, he just mentioned he’d seen you and when I asked how you were doing, well, you know he can’t lie for shit. So Indrid suggested we invite you out here.”

“Out of pity?”

“No.” Barclay frowns, sets his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, “Joseph, why didn’t you just ask me out in person?”

“I was too nervous. I thought it might ruin everything.”

“Not a chance, blue eyes.” Barclay rumbles. Then he’s kissing him, gentle and slow, whimpering when Joseph kisses back and cups his face. When they part, he’s certain there’s nothing but air under his feet.

“Can we do that again?”

“Not tonight. Your curfew is still ten.”

“Shit, you’re right, if I don’t get on the road I’ll be late.”

“Lemme walk you to your car. I gotta hang around since I’m Indrid and Duck’s ride home tonight.”

“Do you want to go get them so we can all leave together?”

Barclay chuckles, tips his head towards the woods where a faint, rhythmic grunting cane be heard.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not gonna ruin their fun.” He pulls Joseph into a much more heated kiss, then sighs, “get home safe, blue eyes.”

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

Joseph suffered through both the personal hygiene class at school and his father’s lecture on what to expect now that he was truly a man. But nothing in either of those taught him what to do if he’s so hot under the collar he can’t focus but the guy who’s causing it won’t just fuck him.

He and Barclay have gone out every Friday for the last month, steaming up the car windows with their kissing sessions. They tried to work out who was supposed to give who their varsity jacket and settled on just trading, Joseph smiling whenever he spots Barclays name on his back. And Barclay tells everyone Joseph is his boyfriend with a level of pride he never gave their state football wins.

But he won’t go all the way with him. One Sunday afternoon they were listening to records in Barclays room when the larger boy rolled across the rug to straddle Joseph. His hands were hot and a little rough on his cock, Joseph moaning into his mouth as he came in under a minute. Before he could reciprocate, the front door banged open, announcing the return of Barclay’s parents. His boyfriend told him not to worry about it and kissed him on the cheek.

He’s worried Barclay loves him but doesn’t want him. He’s worried that if he ever does, Joseph will embarrass himself, be so inexperienced and inelegant he’ll turn him off forever. He wonders if he can entice Barclay to ask him to fuck so he doesn’t have to admit the embarssing intensity of his desire.

“Duck? Do you, um, do you think I’d look better if I dressed like you?”

The greaser looks up from his notes, “Maybe? I mean, I dress like this because I dig it. You wanna try it, go wild.”

Joseph nods, intending to drop it. Instead, he slows his stride by Duck during their laps in gym.

“It’s just, I’m worried I’m too square for anyone to be really into me.”

“Joe, what the fuck is this about?”

“Newton, I heard that! That’s an extra lap.”

“Son of uh, hold on, are you worried about Barclay? Because he’s so into your goody-goody thing I’m surprised he ain’t asked you to fuck him with your report card.”

“Stern, you’re done, get off the track!”

He jogs to the bleachers, Duck’s words rattling around long after he’s hit the locker room.

“You’re really worried about this, ain’t you? You’re smart, slick, but I swear sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.” Duck is behind him, still in his gym clothes while Joseph is half changed out of them. They’re both dawdling, the locker room empty save for some other stragglers near the bathroom.

“Duck, if I were in high demand, I’d be getting more, um, attention than I-”

His sentence is cut short by Duck yanking him down into a kiss, lips salty with sweat and so demanding Joseph wants to get on his knees.

Duck pulls back, pats his cheek, “Like I said; right in front of you.”

With that he waves and leaves the room the back way. Joseph can’t even be mad for cutting school; right now, he’s almost ready to follow him.

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

“I really must thank you again.” Indrid clears the low table of his math notes, “my focus is such that I struggle with math much more than I’d like. Having someone sit and walk me through it in a calm setting helps a great deal.”

“I’m always happy. Barclay can too, if you ever can’t get a hold of me.”

“Oh, I know he can. He helped me last year.” Indrid stretches his legs; they’re on the floor of his VW Westfalia. His parents let him live in it on the property behind their one-story house as long as he continues to be a cooperative member of the household.

“I didn’t know that.”

“It was only a few times, though he often lingered when we were through.” Indrid’s emphasis makes Joseph blush.

“Duck and I weren’t going steady yet. And my cocksucking skills are not the stuff of legend for nothing.” Indrid smiles, dreamily.

“Oh. Um.” Joseph shifts his notebook into his lap.

Indrid sits up straighter, “I apologize. I, ah, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not sure that’s what this is.”

Indrid cocks his head, “No? Envy perhaps? After all, you’ve had years to dream about him, to hope you’d be the first, and here comes a skinny little freak from the coast to beat you to it.”

“You’re not a freak” Joseph says softly, “I, I can’t say I blame Barclay for taking you up on it.”

“He does have excellent taste” Indrid looks pointedly over his glasses at him. The heat under his skin doubles as Indrid crawls forward, “you know, Duck and I have an...understanding. But if you and Barclay do not, I can stop. I mean, I can stop regardless, if you don’t want this.” He lowers to his belly between Joseph’s legs, nuzzles his fly with a hum.

“I, I--ohlord” He moans when Indrid mouths at his slacks; he’s getting hard, if he had his way he’d lay down and let Indrid suck him off until he came on his glasses. But he knows he won’t enjoy it if he isn’t sure how Barclay feels.

“I, we should stop. Please.”

Indrid sits up, smiling, “Of course. Would you like to stay for dinner? My mother is making fish stew instead of tofu salad for once.”

“...I’d love to.”

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

“I didn’t know Amnesty owned all this.” Joseph let’s Barclay guide him through the trees.

“Yeah, Mama’s family bought it years ago and she’s hung onto it through some seriously nasty shit. Hah, there they are.” Barclay waves to Duck and Indrid, resting against each other on a massive, checkered blanket. His boyfriend sets the picnic basket down and then, confusingly, turns off the lantern Duck brought.

“Okay, baby, there’s something I’ve got to ask” Barclay looks at him, “do you think I don’t wanna make it with you?”

“Truthfully? Yes. You, you’ve barely gone beyond some heavy petting, meanwhile Indrid was offering to blow me.” He slaps a hand over his mouth; there go all three of these relationships.

Barclay shrugs, “He told me about that.”

“Honesty is important. Most of the time.” Indrid grins.

“Blue eyes, I’m crazy about you. I’ve just been going slow because I was afraid I’d stress you out. I know how you get, Joseph. You put so much pressure on yourself to do everything right, I was worried you’d try so hard to be perfect for me that you wouldn’t enjoy it at all.”

Joseph stares into deep brown eyes, eyes he’s loved since he was a boy. Then he laughs softly, rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder, “You really do know me well, you know that.”

“Oh, oh baby” Barclay holds him closer, “you really think there was a way of touching me that’d disappoint me? Fuck, just getting to kiss you makes me the happiest guy in the state.”

“That being said” Duck drawls, “aint there somethin about practice makin perfect?”

“I, are, is this really what you three want?”

“Yes” Indrid nods, “but if you don’t, well, we shall never speak of it again.”

“I do. Sweet fucking christ I do.” He kisses Barclay ferociously as the other two scoot closer.

“Hmm, I believe we should let seniority decide. Barclay, what’s your preference?”

His boyfriend pulls back, kissing his jaw, “Do you wanna blow me, blue eyes?”

“So badly.”

“That settles that. Duck, what about--ah, I see you’re already taking off your pants, so I guess you’re fucking hm. He’s fucking you? Ah, semantics.” Indrid waves his hand dismissively.

“Wait, does, do we have a rubber?”

Duck pulls one from his wallet, “never leave to see this one without one. I know how he is.”

Indrid pecks his cheek, then grins, “I believe, Joseph, that leaves me to help you with your hand jobs.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“On your back, baby.” Barclays nudges him and he falls onto the blanket. For a moment only the trees and stars look down on him; then Barclays face fills his vision as his hands open his fly and guide his cock out.

“AHshit, shit that’s good.” He bucks as his boyfriend jerks him off steadily, his cock standing at attention in a matter of seconds.

“Okay big fella, you go get your dick sucked.” Duck straddles him. He’s down to only his undershirt, his muscular thighs, soft belly, and strong arms on full displays as he rolls the condom down.

“You’re so handsome” Joseph sighs.

Duck seems to blush, “Thanks, slick. Not bad yourself.”

“I mean it, really, you’re incredible” he paws his legs, grabs his shirt and pulls him down into the kiss. Duck giggles into his mouth, then sinks down onto his cock. Joseph decides he is never, never letting go of the man above him; his weight is so comforting, his body so perfect, the way his laughs morph into moans so charming.

“G-great thing about this position” Duck gasps, “is you don’t gotta do much besides let me ride you. That’s why it’s ‘Drid’s favorite.”

“Second favorite; you on my face is my first. Speaking of which” he kneels, gently lifts Joseph’s head into his hands while Barclay sits cross-legged on the other side of his head. His cock is thick and long, so mouthwatering Joseph opens his mouth without being told.

“Fuck, baby, wanted this so long.” Barclay guides his cock between his lips when Indrid turns his head. The skinnier man keeps supporting him as his tongue registers skin, sweat, Barclay and he whines for more.

“Easy, blue eyes, fuck, you’re doing great.”

“I’ll say. Fuck, can’t believe you been keepin this dick all to yourself, Joe.”

“I got my haAAnds on it once.”

“Clearly you should have done it more” Indrid purrs, hips moving slightly, “as soon as someone plays with it, he sucks cock very nicely.”

“No fuckin kiddin. Baby, baby, yeah, suck like that.”

Indrid shifts behind him, “Barclay, hold him a moment, there’s been a change of plans.” A zipper goes as Barclay cradles him. Then Indrid’s fingers are back, turning him to face a second, narrower cock.

“Handjobs can wait.” Indrid pulls him forward, moaning high when he sucks the head, “oooh, yes, that’s it.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuckin combust watchin you do that.” Duck bounces more deliberately and Joseph yelps joyfully around Indrid’s cock. He’s already close to cumming, the feeling of Duck around him and Indrid inside him flooding the rest of him with pleasure.

Indrid pulls his head back, starts to turn him towards Barclays, when it punches through him. He moans, pushes up into Duck as the shorter man laughs.

“I, I came first, I’m sorry, this is one of the things-”

“Shush” Barclay helps him up as Duck climbs of him, “that was fucking incredible, and you’re not done yet.”

“On your knees, facing us. Unless, sweetheart, do you-”

Duck’s hand is already between his legs, “I’m gonna enjoy the show.”

“Mmm, which means I get to enjoy you enjoying it. Barclay, turn slightly, like this.”

“Why, oh, oh I got it, fuck, you’re a fucking genius.”

Joseph agrees, though he’s going a bit cross-eyed. So he closes them, lets first Indrid and then Barclay press their cock into his mouth. It’s a stretch, his jaw aching instantly, but it’s the best he’s ever felt. They can’t push more than the heads in, so he concentrates on sucking and licking, pre-cum collecting on his tongue and spit seeping down his chin. Duck grunts behind him, offering running commentary on Indrid’s appearance and Joseph's voice. Barclay shoves both hands into his hair while Indrid keeps one on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, Joseph, baby, this is fucking aces, gonna paint your whole fucking stomach white.”

“Ahnnn, agreed” Indrid pants, “your mouth was made for this, ohyes, that’s it, mmm, this is even better, feeling your cock against mine dearest, oh, oh” Indrid cums, bitterness hitting his tongue, and when he tries to swallow he gasps and gags instead.

“Fuck” Barclay grunts and then another burst of cum fills his mouth. He gasps for air as they pull out, sending some down his chin. He wipes ineffectively at it with the back of his hand.

“Here” Duck, underwear back on, cleans his lips with a napkin.

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course.” Duck kisses him as Indrid flops on his belly and Barclay curls his arms around Joseph.

“Gotta say, blue eyes, don’t think you got anything to worry about when it comes to making it good for me. Or, uh, us.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” Joseph rests against him, then jolts up, “shit, what time is it?”

“Ten.”

“Shit!”

“Don’t worry” Indrid nestles next to his knees, “we’ll say I had car trouble and you two came to my aid.”

Joseph relaxes back among his boyfriends, “Good call. Just, um, don’t let Duck talk?”

“Only if I get an extra kiss for keepin my mouth shut.”

“Deal.”

[spencervoid]

Envy Pt. 1 | Derek Morgan

*I do not own this GIF nor do I take any credit for it!*

Summary: Alongside a few other agents, you ask a couple of questions around the local area to help with understanding the case when one local makes a comment, jealousy kicking in.

Part 1 | Part 2 

A/N: Writing another imagine for my cute little baby, Derek sad makes me sad I don’t care. Hope you enjoy it! (also, completely made up the name of the superintendent.)

Warnings: jealousy, slight tension, mentions of murder and cases, not really any fluff :(

Disclaimer: this imagine is super long so bear with me. I couldn’t do a word count cause my laptop’s broken so I’m writing everything off my phone right now!

“Y/L/N, Morgan and Prentiss, you can head round the local neighbourhood and see if anyone saw or heard anything last night around the time of the murder.” Hotch spoke firmly, looking around to the three of you.

You all nodded in unison, looking towards Superintendent Benning who spoke up. “I thought we had ruled out the possibility of witnesses.”

You placed your hands in your pockets, replying to her. “It’s a quiet place Ma’am, the people are afraid and so no one speaks up because no one wants to. Yet we can’t rule out the possibility of someone hearing or seeing anything out of the blue whether it be before or after the crime itself.”

She nodded in your direction and grabbed her keys from the desk behind, “I’ll go with you, it’s easier if you have someone who knows the place well.” You all wordlessly agreed and made your way outside of the police department quickly.

“Maybe even someone who kept their head down or looked like he was in his own personal bubble.” The lady in front of you chewed her gum as she listened to the questions we were hoping she would have somewhat of an answer for.

“Nah, see everyone around here like that. I didn’t see a thang.” You clenched your jaw in frustration and looked down at your feet, this was the thirteenth person you’d saw who claimed they didn’t have a clue about what had happened.

“Y’all together or somethin’?”

You picked your head up and saw that the woman was pointing to Benning and Morgan, signifying her words were to them. You knew not to make it personal but you couldn’t help the sudden pang of jealousy wave over you when Derek nodded towards Benning, a cheeky smirk on his lips.

Prentiss glanced at you, being the only agent alongside Garcia who knew about your true feelings towards Derek. Garcia was the first one to find out and claimed that she ‘couldn’t keep it in’ so went to Emily and ‘spilled the beans.’

You cleared your throat and went away to another part of the area, Emily following you and motioning to Morgan and Benning to go away somewhere else (nicely, obviously TPWK.)

“You okay?” You simply nodded your head and approached another man, asking him the same questions from before only to get the same set of answers from the last bazillion. “Seriously? Nothing? This area is known for crime and all you can do is bat your eyes somewhere else knowing full well someone has taken the life of an innocent woman who had her entire life ahead of her?!”

Morgan and Benning heard the commotion and turned around to see what it was about, their eyebrows furrowing when they saw it was you. “Y/N.” Emily placed a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back. The man was visibly intimidated, strolling off somewhere else, the street resuming back to normal.

“I’m fine.” You shook Emily’s hand off your shoulder and sighed, rubbing your hand over your forehead in frustration. “I’ll see you back at the station.” The agent besides you was about to speak up but only mumbled a small ‘okay’.

Derek called after you but you just ignored him and opened the car door to the SUV, driving off without a second look. He looked over at Emily who was now stood alone with a notebook and pen in one hand and her phone in the other, punching various numbers in.

“I’ll take the men, you can take the prostitutes.” Benning nodded and walked off, they had to improvise now that they were an agent less.

You sat in the conference room, looking around to the sticky notes and photos of the women, your words towards the man earlier ringing through your head. You didn’t acknowledge anyone walking in until you saw a tall figure lean on the desk on the other side of the room.

“Why are you back here?”

“The neighbourhood was a miss, figured it would do a lot more good if I was here instead.”

Hotch knew that that wasn’t the only reason you left the neighbourhood but dropped it and just simply nodded his head, looking over to the evidence board. “You see anything?”

You stood up and walked over to the board, looking at the marks on each of the victim’s bodies. “Well, some unsubs have different levels of neurotransmitters like serotonin or dopamine than normal brains. Serotonin at the proper levels keeps people from acting aggressively when they are frustrated, so when someone’s brain has lower amounts of the chemical, the person may react impulsively and violently.”

“What are you implying?” Hotch was interested in what you were saying, tilting his head to see the board a little bit clearer. “Hotch, I think we’re dealing with a psychopath.”

He furrowed his eyebrows as you both turned your head to the door, hearing a deep familiar voice. “I agree.” You swallowed and turned back round, pretending to be busy thinking.

“Why?” Derek walked further into the room and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at you and hoping for you to turn around with that usual smile on your lips but sighed and looked down at his feet then back up at Hotch.

“Uh, psychopaths especially those who commit violent crimes, may not have brains that register fearful expressions on others’ people faces. Unsubs with antisocial personality disorder have trouble recognising faces showing fear and sadness. Um, our unsub could be on a psychotic break and the way he killed these victims was quick, he didn’t spend any time with them.”

Hotch noticed the slight tension in the room between both of his agents but grabbed his cell from his pocket, dialling Garcia’s number. “Garcia. Narrow down the list to anyone who has been released from a mental institution within the last 6 months, has cut off his medication or visited a local pharmacy to pick up any refills of carbamazepine or even SSRIs.”

There was a small pause as you looked to Hotch, the usual focused expression built up on his face. “Thanks.” He flipped his phone close and put it back into his pocket, looking back up.

“Whatever you two have going on, sort it out. We have an unsub on a psychotic break and I need everyone to be focused.” You glanced at Derek for a brief moment, his eyes already set on you. “Good job.” Hotch nodded towards the both of you before walking back out the room the way he came in, updating the rest of the team on what you were just conversing about.

“What’s going on?”

“You tell me.” You spoke almost instantly, Derek wincing at the sound of your suddenly cold voice. “Y/N/N, I only want to help.” You turned your head to him, his fingers interlaced with each other as he just looked at you with concern laced in his voice.

You glanced outside of the room when you noticed the superintendent eyeing you and Derek suspiciously, your anger returning to you as you balled your hand into a fist. The agent opposite you noticed your shift in behaviour, following your eyes to where they looked.

He furrowed his brows and looked back at you, “Y/N, what is it?”

“I don’t know Derek, fondling with the superintendent when there’s an unsub on a ‘psychotic break’ isn’t calming in any way whatsoever.” He stood up slowly, taking a few steps towards you and standing in front to block the superintendent outside from your line of sight.

“It isn’t fondling, and seriously? That’s what this is all about?” When Derek finished, it felt even more of a trivial issue than the voice in your head was making it out to be. “No it’s that we have three girls dead, an unsub on the verge of losing his entire mind and very distraught families who are looking for closure and to bury their daughters in peace.”

You scoffed and walked out of the room, every pair of eyes on you and Derek as you took a seat at one of the desk’s, bringing up Garcia to ask her if she had found anything.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Hell's Studio fic idea: A pipe bursts and Sammy becomes a toon Imp like Snowflake and Bendy, and Joey doesn't know how to reverse it ASAP, so Sammy is stuck as a toon Imp and Sammy decides to hangout with Snowflake until Joey can reverse the ink's magic (Bonus points if: Sammy gets a uncontrollable stutter as a toon Imp, Susie cooing her small boyfriend, and Sammy drawing with snowflake)

I am So sorry that this took so freaking long, but here you go!

Wally slapped his forehead in exasperation as he heard the pipe bursting from the music department's break room. Then proceeded to go in there, with Snowflake following close behind just in case he needed someone small to check in any holes in the wall that the pipe made in the process.

The sight was familiar, but unwelcome to the pair; a pile of thick ink sliding down onto the floor through the broken pipe peeking through the ceiling. Snowflake was only thankful that it had spilled to the floor instead of the pool table.

“I’m startin' ta think dat eitheah we should completely tear down da music department to put in a betteah pipe system, or just stop fixin' the dang things so dat they at least stop surprisin' us."

The Janitor grumbled as he started mopping up the mess.

"A-at least nobody got caught in it this time."

As soon as Snowflake said that, something under the pile began to move.

“Mmmmh?"

"Yikes, spoke too soon, kiddo."

Wally stated calmly as he started to scrape the excess ink off of what looked exactly like Bendy, except the imp's tie lacked the fun patterns Bendy often wore, and more importantly, he was missing his mouth. So the obvious conclusion the pair made was: The ink ruined his tie by dying it black and also stole his mouth.

"M-mr. Bendy?! are you okay?!"

The formerly buried imp looked at the other one with a perplexed expression before mouthing something, realized that he wasn't saying anything, patting his face where his mouth should've been, and looking like he was about to panic.

"MMMMmmPPHH?! MMMH!! MMPHH!!!"

"Looks like the ink erased your pie hole, boss."

The imp rolled his eyes at stared at Wally in a very sarcastic manner before leaving the room, most likely to visit Joey about this issue.

"...Do you think he's not going to want to do that drawing lesson later?"

"What, Bendy? not want ta draw with ya overah somethin' like this? Nah. It's nothin' fun to wake up to, but I don't think it'll eat at him like it will if it happened ta Sammy."

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

"MmMMmMMM?!?! MMPHH!! MMMPPHHH!?"

Sammy hopped up and down while wildly gesturing to the blank white space on his face where his mouth was supposed to be while Joey flipped through heavily ink-stained spell books. Meanwhile, the real Bendy was still gawking at his doppelganger, still not quite sure whether he should feel flattered or offended that the ink pulled this on Sammy. But also not saying anything because he couldn't find any jokes to lighten the mood with.

It would be one thing if the ink also gave Sammy Bendy's trademark smile (that could make other expressions too). If it did that, Bendy would be making so many mirror and twin related jokes. But it didn't.

"It's going to be fine." Joey repeated almost more to himself than to the hopping mad imp. "Just because an ink flood took out some of my reversal spells, doesn't mean that you're going to be stuck like this forever. Best case scenario, it'll take a few hours for me to find the right one, worst case scenario I'm going to need to order a new book, and that might take a while."

"MMm MmhP?"

"I don't know how long! Some of these are the rarest on the market! Goodness knows how long it'll take to replace if it's ruined and has the correct cure in it..."

The music director let out a heavily muffled, frustrated sigh.

"Yes, I'm annoyed too." Joey sighed as well. "But at least it's not going to be forever."

'Easy for you to say.' Sammy thought to himself as trying and failing to talk was starting to hurt his jaw. 'You're not the one dealing with this! how am I supposed to do my job when I can't speak to anyone?!'

He must've been gesturing as he thought this as Joey snapped his fingers in realization and handed Sammy a notebook and a pencil.

"I know it won't help with the more vocal aspects of your job, but it's better than not having any way to communicate. And much easier than trying to learn sign language in less than a day and with only four digits on each hand."

He tried to write down 'Thanks Joey' but his hands refused to obey him. Confusingly, he instead drew a thumbs up.

"Why thank you! Glad to see that you're taking this better than expected Sammy. I'd better get to work on looking for that spell..."

As Joey left the room, Sammy frowned at the notebook, trying to figure out why he did that. Bendy also peeked at the drawing and felt something click.

"So..." the copied imp awkwardly tugged at his tie as he avoided making eye contact with Sammy. "Just outta curiosity sake, does Snowflake know about this? At least, the fact that it's well, you instead of me?"

Sammy gave Bendy a funny look but nodded anyway.

"Okay, follow up question: ...Is now a bad time to tell you that before you burst in here trying to tell us to fix this that Joey and I were arguing over whether I should go to this meeting with GENT or to give drawing lessons to Snowflake like I promised to, and literally right before you came in I said: 'Well dang it Joey if I could be in two places at once, I would!'?"

Sammy frowned as he saw the guilty yet pleading look in Bendy's eyes, calmly took the newspaper off of Joey's desk, rolled it up and smacked Bendy right upside the head.

"Hey! What gives?!" He sputtered as he rubbed the back of his head.

The Mute music director drew a series of pictures: Bendy putting something in the ink, the ink rising up and flashing him the 'ok' hand sign, Bendy giving it a thumbs up in return and leaving on his merry way, a shift in perspective revealing Sammy as a human having seen the interaction but shrugging it off, Sammy (still human) playing pool with Jack, Grant, and Johnny, the four of them having a good time, the ceiling above them creaking and rumbling ominously, making the four opt to leave, Sammy coming back into the pool room slightly later and keeping an eye on the ceiling, Sammy taking what he came back into the room for, the ceiling above him suddenly bursting and covering him with ink, and the last picture; a bunch of puzzle pieces being fit together, with the picture on the pieces being a lit light bulb.

After showing Bendy his work, he crossed his arms and tapped his foot on the ground.

"What?! You can't seriously blame me for- Okay, yes. I did kinda make a request... but I figured I'D be the one getting drenched! Not you!"

Sammy raised a single eyebrow as Bendy let out a frustrated sigh.

"Look, if I knew that this was what would happen, I wouldn't have done it! But now that it's happened ...would ya help me out with this?"

Sammy's next drawing was his current form with an intentionally bad scribble of Bendy's mouth on the space where he was supposed to have a mouth to indicate it was (poorly) drawn on, and he was trying and failing to do Bendy's job for him as he couldn't speak.

"Of course I'm not going to shirk my responsibilities to make you pretending to be me look like an idiot in front of those big wigs at GENT. I mean, goodness, if this thing flops, who knows what'll happen."

The Musician then showed Bendy a drawing that was so horrible and cold that he wouldn't even dare grace it with a description.

"WHAT KINDA DEMON DO YOU THINK I AM, LAWRENCE?!" Bendy quieted down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I get it, Damned if I do the thing, damned if I don't do the other thing. I can't let down Snowflake, but if I'm not at that meeting, the studio's relationship with GENT could get bruised! This is why I tried this stunt in the first place!"

He sighed as Sammy just continued to tap his foot in annoyance. "Tell you what, help me and I'll give you anything you ask for! A raise, me not pranking you for a month, more paid vacation days, magic-repelling acetone, name it and it's yours!*"

*Within reason. I'm a demon not a miracle worker!

Sammy showed Bendy an intentionally shaky 'Ok' sign, the closest thing he could think of to a picture version of a hesitant and unwilling 'fine, I'll do it...'

"Oh Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Bendy practically crushed his doppelganger in a spine-breaking hug. "I really owe you this one Sammy!"

'I hope you realize how goddamned lucky you are that I like that kid.' Sammy thought to himself as he patted his double on the back. 'Otherwise I'd hang you out to dry for doing this...'

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

The music director had no interest in deceiving Snowflake; even if he wanted to follow Bendy's plan to the spirit of his deal, he knew too well that the studio and it's ink would always drag any secret up to the surface. So it would just be easier to come clean at the start before lies had the chance to spiral into something that could completely break the poor kid.

"Hi Mr. Bendy! Are you ready for our lesson?"

Sammy nodded, but gestured for his pupil to wait a second before he flipped through the pages of his sketchbook and showed him a series of pictures: some showing the origin of his new condition, and the others showing his deal with Bendy.

"Oh." The child imp seemed sad, and slightly disappointed, but also not surprised. "So Bendy couldn't make it today either..."

The older imp sympathetically patted Snowflake on the back and tried his best to draw out an explanation, but it's kind of hard to put 'He really did want to make it, in fact, he wanted to so much that he was willing to split himself in half for it! But as you can see, it kinda backfired...' into picture format, luckily he got the message across fairly well.

"I-it's okay, I understand. Thanks for filling in for him Mr. Lawrence!"

Snowflake pulled out his own notebook and pencils.

"Do you think you can show me how to do hands that well?"

Sammy eagerly nodded and flipped his book to a blank page.

[darkicedragon]

Fanfic: Hair of Gold [Part 3]

Fandom: Noblesse Summary: Frankenstein finds a place that may have the information that he needs. The only problem is how they get in... Notes: Noir AU Happy birthday, @o-c-o-c-o! :D Guess I'm working on this in parts and just jumping around rather than in full chronological order, haha. Rating: G Genre: General Word count: 1,576 Total word count: 2,685 Status: Work in progress First part | Previous part | Next part Frankenstein was muttering as he scribbled something on Muzaka's pad when Muzaka returned to the office. "Did you find somethin'?" Muzaka asked, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up, putting his hat on top. It was a fifty-fifty chance that Frankenstein had, while the other half was Frankenstein had made a connection with the mountain of research he apparently kept in his head. Muzaka was starting to run out of paper because of it.

"I found a lead that points to the Kravei estate," Frankenstein said, not looking up from what he was doing, "but to get in... They're hosting a ball next week and this may be my best chance to gain access." "So you want to sneak in?" Muzaka said, dropping into the chair across from Frankenstein, since his own chair was currently occupied. "Hmph. While I may not have much in physical possessions anymore," Frankenstein said as he looked up, brushing his hair behind his ear, "my name still has enough pull that I was able to gain an invite." Muzaka whistled. That was some influence Frankenstein had. Just a call and that was it? An invite was secured? "You don't think that was a little easy?" Frankenstein frowned at him, tapping the end of the pen on the table. "What do you mean?" He sighed. While Frankenstein was far smarter than him, he seemed to have tunnel vision about other things. "You're on the run, for a start. You think they'll just let in someone wanted by the police?" At that, Frankenstein...smiled? "You'd be surprised how willing people are to look in the other direction, depending on how much social power they have." Yeah, Muzaka was far too aware of that. "Even though these people might be connected with what happened to ya?" Frankenstein's smile faltered. Too tunnel visioned. "Still." Frankenstein squared his shoulders, pursing his lips. "This may still be my only chance for answers. Muzaka sighed, leaning back on his chair. "Fine." He couldn't doubt that. "Can you grab me a second invite?" Frankenstein gazed at him, a small crease forming between his brows. "You're offering to come?" Muzaka grinned at him. "That's what you employed me for, right?" Frankenstein had taken care of the information gathering side of it, so the least he could do was provide some muscle. "But...just how fancy is this ball, anyway?" Frankenstein's eyes flicked him up and down, assessing him as an amused smile grew on his face. "Fancy." Muzaka grimaced. "This is as fancy as I can get." Just a couple of well-used suits were all he could afford with the cases he got. "I can help in that regard," Frankenstein said, the amused glint never leaving his eye. "That way I can repay you for teaching me how to blend in more around here." Muzaka stared at him for a second, and then winced, realising what he'd just got himself into. * "It hasta be measured?" Wolfe grumbled as he held his arms out for the tailor. "Of course," Frankenstein said, watching the proceedings. "A suit needs to fit and sit well." Or else it would be clear to everyone around them that it had just been bought from a shop shelf. Frankenstein was seeing a new side of Wolfe because of this, and it was interesting to see how he acted when he was out of his element. The tailor stepped back with a hum, and then nodded. "We should be ready soon, sir, if you could wait until then." He left, writing notes in his notebook. Wolfe threw himself into the chair next to Frankenstein with a grunt, his legs stretched out in front of him, balanced just enough that he wouldn't slip off. "Posture, Mr. Wolfe," Frankenstein murmured, watching him from the corner of his eyes. He saw Wolfe still, and then sighed. Wolfe pulled himself up with a grimace. "Haven't sat like this in ages," he muttered. "And your back will thank you for it if you continue to sit up straight." Wolfe tsk'd, already beginning to slouch again. "Yer enjoying this." There was less accusation in his voice than there could have been. Frankenstein smiled, still gazing around the shop, looking at the different designs around them. "And you didn't?" Wolfe had taught him how to dress down, to talk looser, and now the role was reversed. He had to admit, it was rather fun. He heard Wolfe snort, and when he glanced from the corner of his eye, he could see Wolfe struggling to hide his smile. * "Is there a problem?" Frankenstein called out. Wolfe seemed to be taking an awfully long time in the dressing room to merely be changing into a suit. "Learnin' how to put a tie on again," was the reply. Hm. True, Wolfe barely ever had his top buttons done up, let alone wore a tie in the short time Frankenstein had known him. "Do you need help?" "Nah." Wolfe slid the curtain back, and stepped out. Oh my. The dark blue suit Frankenstein had chosen for him really did help to draw attention to Wolfe's hair. "Well, I must say," Frankenstein said, unable to help the soft purr to his voice, "you do clean up rather well, Mr. Wolfe." They would need to do something about his hair, but simply tying it back could be enough. "Why is there so many layers to this," Wolfe muttered as he pulled at his collar. "I can barely move." "The ball will start in the evening, so it will be cooler then," Frankenstein said. "And the suit shouldn't be restrictive enough that you can't, say, dance in it." Wolfe grimaced. "I can't do that either." He shook his head, looking down at himself. "Thought we weren't meant to be drawin' much attention to ourselves?" Frankenstein laughed softly. "You won't stand out like that." Wolfe frowned, stretching his arms in different directions. "You sure?" Frankenstein stood up, and walked over. Wolfe dropped his arms, watching him, and stayed still when Frankenstein stepped into his space, adjusting his tie. "I trusted your judgement in your area of expertise, so please grant me the same courtesy in my area of expertise." He guided the knot so it rested against Wolfe's neck, and straightened his jacket. "Fine." Frankenstein was close enough to see Wolfe swallow and then his shoulders relaxed. "Very well...?" Frankenstein smiled at him. "Yes." Wolfe's accent still bled through, but it was a start. * "I hafta wear the suit as well?" Wolfe grimaced, running a hand over his hair, tugging at the ponytail. "You need to learn how to dance in the suit, yes," Frankenstein said, turning the dial to find a radio station with useable music, since Wolfe didn't have any of his own vinyls to use or a turntable to play one. It wouldn't do if Wolfe had to learn twice over, both the dance moves and then how to move smoothly in the suit. Frankenstein settled on one station and walked over to Wolfe, waving a finger to the beat. Wolfe followed his finger, frowning. "Can you hear it?" Frankenstein asked. It was best to make sure now, than find out later. Wolfe nodded. "Just move in time to the beat?" "Essentially, yes." Frankenstein took Wolfe's hand in his, directing Wolfe's other hand to his hip. "I'll lead." "Yeah, heh, I'll just follow ya." * "My, my, Mr. Wolfe," Frankenstein said, closing the gap between them again, as they span around the room, "you can't keep your dance partner at arm's length. People would think you don't want to be near me." And he knew Wolfe enough that was patently untrue. He was close enough he had a clear view of how flushed Wolfe's cheeks were. "It's not-!" Wolfe swallowed, not looking at him, and then stumbled then next step, Frankenstein's hold on him keeping him upright. Wolfe's hold on his hip was rather limp as well. "You were so confident with your hands before. What happened?" "I knew what I was doin' before!" Wolfe said as he straightened. The response made Frankenstein chuckle, leaning in close enough that their noses touched. "Relax, Mr. Wolfe. Focus on moving with me, than trying to predict where I'll go." Wolfe was still stiff and Frankenstein closed the gap, kissing him. Wolfe exhaled, his hand sliding to Frankenstein's back, drawing him even closer. It was only for a minute or so, but Frankenstein felt the tension seep out from Wolfe's muscles. He smiled when he drew his head back, Wolfe's breathing a little easier now. "Better?" Wolfe didn't say anything for a few seconds, and then nodded. "Yeah." "Then let's continue." * Frankenstein could hear Wolfe trying to keep his breathing steady as their taxi neared their destination. "You will be fine," he said. "Not sure about that," Wolfe said, his eyes dancing from person to person as they passed them. "Do you think you stand out now?" Frankenstein said, as the attire of their fellow ball goers became more clear. Wolfe exhaled. "No," he admitted. The taxi slowed to a stop, and while Frankenstein paid the driver, Wolfe stepped out first, his elbow out, ready for Frankenstein, just like they had practised. Frankenstein left the taxi, placing his hand in the crook of Muzaka's elbow as they walked to the entrance. Well then. Now to see what they could find. ___ Inspired by this conversation.

[mrs-hollandstan]

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [seven]

Warnings: language, more drinking & partying, skimpy dress descriptions, dancing with Scarlett, mentions of an erection, aaaaaaaaaand smut haha, 18+, female receiving oral- whoops

Word Count: 5,605

Author's Note: Don't come for me when you read this chapter, I couldn't help myself. But surpriseeeeee. Also, gif credits to the original owner and lemme know what you think. :)

Series Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

Tom's heartbeat pounds in his ears and he swears you can hear it, but yours is just as loud and that's all you can hear. Both of you are panting just a little as you mutually undress, eyes seeming to never wander despite the want to. Tom desperately wants to look down at your naked body. He dreamt about it for Christ's sake. But he follows you into the shower, watching as you turn to wet your hair, the strands of it clinging to your skin. He allows himself that moment to glance across your body, eyes lingering on your breasts that he's primarily seen in his backseat. But the real killer is your thighs. He doesn't know why, but the way they're pressed together as you rinse your hair of the day's grime has him captivated. Soft, beautiful skin, unmared and asking to be kissed, spread, held. You open your eyes, smiling at him, 

"Perv." He shrugs,

"You said I couldn't touch, you didn't say anything about looking." He reminds. You nod,

"And I'm not covering myself because of it, because I kinda feel guilty." You admit quietly, but Tom can hear you even if a train drove by. His girl shouldn't feel guilty about anything. He frowns, 

"Why?" You scoff as you lather your hair in the sweet smelling shampoo that Tom knows from nuzzling his face in your hair,

"You're like... notorious for sleeping around and you're not getting any from me." You tell him. He clicks his tongue, finding your soap and beginning to wash himself, 

"Aaaand, I'm not your usual American frat boy into peer pressure and date rape and shit so... you don't have to give it up to me."

"Yeah but-"

"Our deal was you make me love you and that doesn't include sex. That's deception." He jokes, smiling as you, mid rinse of your hair, open your eyes to frown at him, 

"I'm serious Tom."

"So am I! For once in my goddamn life, I don't feel the need to have sex with a girl to stay the fuck around." He admits, rolling his eyes. Your heart swells as you stare at him, eyes never straying lower than his stomach just in shyness. You near him, his eyes downcast to yours, beautiful curls now sticking dark to his skin, 

"How did I get so lucky with you?" You ask, eyes twinkling as they dart between his. He smiles, 

"I ask myself that every day when it comes to you darling." He replies. You smile, standing on your toes to kiss him, hands rested on his slippery body. You hum, his hands drifting down to your hips where they rest lightly, as if he's scared you'll yell at him for the contact. You smile, reaching up to thread your fingers through his hair, bodies pressed together as you deepen the kiss, steam encasing you. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him as you kiss, letting you draw back and stare up at him, 

"Let's... finish up, yeah?" He nods, eyes darkened in lust as you both hurriedly finish washing up. You shut the water off, slipping out onto the tile and binding a towel around your body, Tom doing the same before he scoops you up, carrying you back to your bedroom. He lays you back on your bed, unravelling the towel from your body and ditching his own, kneeling between your legs. You hum as he bows his head to kiss you, your arms wrapping around his beautiful, lean figure. He moans into you, teeth clashing and his tongue slipping into your mouth. You gasp, sliding your hands down his sides and arching your back as his lips trail down your neck, small marks being bit, sucked, and licked into the skin. You hold him there, arching your knees up around him until he raises his head to stare down into your eyes. Its then that the uncertainty and the fear associated with giving yourself up to him at this point and time kicks in, but so does the guilt. A few water droplets dot your skin from his half dried hair as he stares down at you. You lick your lips and shake your head, reaching up to brush your own hair behind your ears,

"We can't do this. Tom... fuck, I'm sorry but we can't-"

"Hey, hey, hey, you're alright, I want you to be comfortable with this and you're not. I'm okay with that." He reassures again. You sigh, placing your hands on his shoulders, 

"But you... y-you're hard, I can feel it, and it's not fair that you don't get to get off." You whine. He chuckles, eyebrows raising on his forehead, 

"Darling, I get hard coming out of my room in the morning. It happens. And beside, dream you has given me much more than I probably need. I've gotten off." He informs, watching a blush rise to your cheeks with an airy laugh before he rolls off of you. He sits at the edge of your bed, letting you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He hums, pressing the side of his face to yours, closing his eyes as you kiss his cheek, peppering kisses across the skin. Reaching for his towel, you dry his hair off the rest of the way, laying him back in bed and climbing over his legs. You hum as you kiss his chest like a few nights ago, a hum slipping from his lips as you look up at him, eyes twinkling again. You press a kiss to his stomach, 

"I'll prioritize and blow you." You mumble but Tom clicks his tongue and drags you up to lay beside him, pulling your leg up around his waist, 

"Tom it's not fair to you!" 

"I'll be fine." He growls, arm wrapped around your waist and hand placed on your hip. You hum, pressing your hand over his heart and your cheek to his shoulder. You sigh, letting him kiss your forehead, raising your own head after a moment, 

"I do love you Tom. Even if you're not ready to say it." He smiles, knowing in his heart that he's ready but with all the surprises you've thrown his way, he wants to have one too. So he'll wait because he knows whether or not he says it won't break your heart. You lay your head back against his shoulder, sighing. He rubs his thumb over your skin, letting you melt into him as he closes his eyes, letting sleep consume him the same way it does you. 

                                   ---

"Alright nerds, what're you doing tonight?" Ivey poses as she sits across from you and Tom at the table in the library. Tom doesn't look up as you cross your leg under you, clothed arm nudging his as he scribbles away at his English study guide. You look to him,

"Uhm, we were probably just gonna stay in and study for finals." You tell her. She hums as Harrison slides into the seat beside her, sipping his steaming tea. She looks to him,

"Well... kinda last minute, but Phoebe, Scarlett, Cole, and us were all going out to a club in downtown Seattle and we were wondering if you guys wanted to come." Tom grumbles beside you, but you nod anyways, looking to him, 

"I think I could use a night out." His eyes find yours after a moment, hand pressed under his chin still. You raise an eyebrow and he shrugs, eyelashes fluttering,

"You know I go where you go. Guess I'll be there too." He diverts his attention to Ivey who smiles,

"Great! You have to go with Harrison though so the girls and I can make Y/N very whore couture for you." She jokes, Tom snorting and rolling his eyes as he returns his attention back to his study guide on the table. You smile, nudging his arm, 

"We'll both be there." You reassure your best friend who nods and stands, wishing you both goodbyes before she leads Harrison back towards the dorms,

"What, does she have a tracker on you or something? How the hell did she know you were here?" He asks as you watch them leave, eyes lingering on the other students around you both, 

"No... I'm supposed to tell the girls where I am even if I'm with you. Just in case." You inform. He nods, letting you lean your arm against him, lips pressed to his shoulder. His eyes glance between your study guide and his own, finishing up the last few words in his chicken scratch writing before he sets his pencil down and sighs, looking over at you, 

"You're really making me go?" 

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to sweet cheeks, but I'm going. So if you want to be a sorry sap who stays home and watches Netflix without his loving girlfriend, you do so." You inform him, grasping his face in your hand. He hums, leaning in to gently press his lips to yours, 

"So you're making me go." You giggle, 

"Sure. Whatever you wanna claim Mr. I-play-the-victim." You joke. He smiles, letting out a soft chuckle, 

"So accusing." He mutters. You shrug, laying your head against his arm, looking over the filled in papers in front of you. He flexes his bicep to give you a more sturdy resting place. You huff, 

"What to wear, what to wear." Tom hums, 

"How bout nothing and we stay home." 

"Tom-"

"I'm jokinggggg." He says with a chuckle. You hum, laying your head back against his arm, 

"I think I know what to wear. What are you gonna wear?" You ask. He stares ahead, twiddling his pencil in his fingers, 

"Probably jeans and a sweater. You want somethin special?" You shake your head, 

"No, I don't want you to upsell me." You joke. He smiles, looking down at you as you start to stuff your notebook into your bag, standing beside him. He follows suit, letting you lazily hold his hand as you leave the library, 

"So I'll see you later." You state rather than ask, pausing at the top of the stairs. His eyebrows knit together, 

"You're not gonna let me walk you home?" 

"No, it's fine, the library is the same length from the house and the dorms, I got it." You reassure, standing on your toes to kiss him softly. He pouts, features never changing as you giggle, 

"Tom I'll be fine. And I'll see you later." You say with a giggle, kissing his cheek once before you take a step back, eyes lingering on him. You cock your head before turning and walking down the stairs, glancing over your shoulder at Tom once before you tuck hair behind your ear and continue down the path towards the dorms, Tom watching you go with a bruised ego and worry laced in his blood despite knowing nothing will happen to you. 

That night, Tom is fidgety, wanting to get the show on the road as Harrison gets dressed, seemingly as slow as he possibly can just to torment Tom. It allows him to think about how odd it is to want to see you so bad despite having seen you earlier. He's surprised by how odd it is to practically grieve when you're apart and be as antsy as he is now to see you again. 

Harrison breaks him from his thoughts as he sighs and turns to him, outfit and hair in place perfectly, 

"Done, ready you fucking div?" He asks. Tom nods before he practically rushes down the stairs and out to his car, Harrison following close behind, but still trailing, 

"Ya know… I think you bullied me for the same shit all those years ago with Ivey." Harrison remarks, closing himself inside Tom's already running car. Tom half sighs, half growls,

"It's been two years and this isn't the same thing. Most times I wasn't even dressed. You forced me out of the house like three hours early for no damn reason just to try and see her. I have a reason and its…" he pauses to check out the clock in his dashboard, "half an hour before we're supposed to meet up." Tom explains to Harrison who waves him off. They drive in silence, sitting at the curb of the club waiting for Ivey's car to make an appearance. And when it does, both boys climb from Tom's car and cross the street to meet the four of you. 

Tom steps up on the curb, breath dissolving into a mist as it meets the cool air and you climb from the car, effectively taking Tom's breath as he looks you over, a white, plunging neckline dress billowing from your body, a black velvet choker wrapped around your throat, and white and tan wedges successfully making you just Tom's height, if not a little taller. You smile, the streetlights catching the glitter dotted over the smokey eye you sport clouded by the messy, thick curls in your hair,

"Hey." You croon, closing the door of the car behind you, glancing down to step up on the curb, 

"H-hey. You look uhh… you look beautiful." He chokes out around his tongue. You smile, holding his hand that he holds out to balance yourself on the uneven sidewalk,

"Thanks babe. I told you I didn't want you to upsell me." He nods, smiling down at you as you smile, gloss glistening in the low lighting. You follow the girls and Harrison to the door, leaning back into Tom's chest as the bouncer IDs everyone. He wraps his arms around you, resting his cheek to yours now that you're too tall for him to rest his head over yours. Heading inside, he watches you turn when Cole comes running up in a black button up with rolled up sleeves and jeans, quickly joining your group once he's presented ID. He quickly kisses Scarlett before hugging you and bro hugging Tom, greeting the others before you all retreat to a table. You sit at the end of the bench, Tom standing just before you, 

"Want me to get you a drink baby?" 

"I'll go with, let's find out what everyone wants." Before you can fully stand and collect yourself, Tom has sorted out drink orders and Cole is accompanying you both to the bar, ordering, leaning against the countertop and glancing out at the dancefloor and then between you and Tom, 

"So am I gonna have to kill you for puttin your hands all over my sister?" Cole jokes. Tom smiles, looking to you and shaking his head as you bind your arms around his torso,

"I'm always being told to keep my hands to myself so... I think we'll be okay." He replies jokingly. You smile, leaning into him, 

"Don't worry Cole, anything that happens between us will be consensual. Tom is the perfect gentleman." You reassure your older brother who smiles and nods,

"I know. Tom is a good guy." Cole remarks before he stands up straight as the array of alcohol is set in front of you. Tom carries three of the four beers for your group while Cole carries his own beer and Scarlett's drink as you carry your own drink and Ivey's drink. Once back at the table, you distribute alcohol, Tom sitting at the very edge of the booth beside you as you all sip your drinks, just trying to loosen up enough to get out to the dancefloor. 

Once the group heads that way, Tom takes your hand, having finished his beer in record time, 

"I think I'm gonna fetch another one, do you want something else?" You nod, following close behind him. He follows you once you have your second drink in hand, taking your free one to not lose you in the crowd as you find your friends on the flashing colored dancefloor. Scarlett is already in Cole's arms, back pressed to his chest as Ivey and Harrison dance facing each other, her arms around his neck. Tom hums as he wraps his arms around you, your hips moving the same as your friends. You’re facing Scarlett and Cole, your older brother laughing as he watches you and Scarlett sing to each other. Soon enough, she steps forward and takes your hand, spinning you and allowing you to bend just the smallest bit, her hand on your shoulder as you grind against each other, Tom laughing as he watches. Cole, having stepped up beside him, mutters back and forth with your boyfriend who has a hungry look swimming in his eyes. But his eyes don't stay locked on you; they wander over both you and Scarlett. He likes the way you look with her, likes the way the both of you look as your dress rides up against her body. She's wearing a dress that's just as skimpy and he loves how sexy the whole situation is, but you miss the look he gives completely, lost playfully in her. 

Scarlett releases you, dragging Cole back into her by his arm as Tom's hands find purchase over your hips again. You wrap your arms around his neck, watching him sip his drink with a small smile. He licks his lips, looking you over with a dark look in his eyes, 

"I lied to you." He remarks. You hum, cocking your head with your eyebrows furrowing,

"What do you mean baby?"  You ask so innocently, it nearly makes Tom want to carry you out to his car and have his way with you any, and everywhere. He glances down, watching the way the deep cut in your dress reveals the ample flesh he loves covered in the same glitter that you and your three roommates are drenched in. He reaches up, one of your hands slipping to his waist, 

"I told you you looked beautiful but... I lied. You actually look really sexy." He rasps out. His accent has you weak in the knees, your fingers threading through the hair at the base of his neck. You search his eyes as he smiles, one corner of his mouth raised. You let out an airy laugh, 

"Oh yeah? What, did I not look this good at all those frat parties?" 

"No you definitely do. You're always sexy, but right now, I'm definitely having dirty thoughts about you." He admits. You giggle, letting his hands wander to your lower back, your hands pressed to his chest. You hum, running your hands across his muscular pecs, 

"If you can play nice for a little while longer, maybe I'll reward you." He lets out a dark chuckle, holding you close, 

"Promise?" You nod, 

"Promise." He nods, sipping more beer before he lets you turn, grinding back against him similarly to when you were with Scarlett. He holds your hips, laughing the same as he had earlier as you, Ivey, and Scarlett all sing to each other and act in the same manner as you do at all the frat parties. It sends a surge of nostalgia through Tom. That first time he met you, that first time you teased him and he knew that you were perfect for him. You were sweet, but you were sassy and he loved it. He wanted all of it for the rest of his life, he still does too. 

There's only about a half an hour that goes by before the girls want refills of their own. You follow just for the hell of it, Tom just behind you so he isn't abandoned by the group. As you stand at the bar, he clears hair off to the side, over your shoulder and out of his way to kiss your neck as you talk to Phoebe and Ivey. His eyes cut up to them for a moment before he tucks hair behind your ear, 

"Let's do shots baby." He mutters. You turn your head just the slightest, eyes searching his before they wander down to his lips and you nod. He orders two shots of vodka, lifting one to his freshly wetted lips, eyes rising to yours. You hold the small shot glass out, clinking it with Tom's and giggling when it spills just the slightest. He smiles before he throws it back, the same as you and slaps the glass onto the countertop. He watches you shiver with a smile, letting you lean into him, a giggle slipping from your lips as you lean on your toes to kiss him softly. He shakes his head, 

"You're crazy." 

"But I'm your crazy." You remark. He nods, shrugging softly, 

"Guess so huh?" You nod, smiling up at him, 

"Buy me another?" You ask. He raises an eyebrow, 

"You tryna get me wasted?" You giggle again, ordering two more shots before you turn to him, 

"It'll be better when you're wasted." You pose. He hums, lifting the shot glass to his lips with baited breath as he watches you throw your own shot back. He gently sets the shot glass down, 

"Ya know, drunk sex is a great way to get pregnant." 

"Who said anything about sex?" You quickly imply, sparkling Y/E/C eyes glancing up at him with a mischievous glint. He purses his lips as you press yourself to him, 

"Besides, I'm on birth control. I promise not to have your baby." You joke. He smiles, 

"Not yet at least." 

"Ooh, you planning our future together or something Holland?" You ask. He smiles and shrugs, 

"Never know. I like the way we sound and look together, ya know, Tom and Y/N, and I want kids someday. But I'd much appreciate if we graduate before we try to do that." You nod, sipping the beer in your hand. You hum as Tom plays with his own beer bottle, watching your group of friends all act accordingly with their partners. He licks his lips, 

"So uhh, w-what's my reward if I'm good?" He asks. You sip from your drink, eyebrows raising just a small bit, 

"Dunno, what do you want?" You ask him. He raises the unruly eyebrow, 

"Are you telling me that I've been good? And what, I get to pick my reward?" He teases softly. You snort, setting your beer bottle aside, 

"There's no reason not to give you the option. And... if we can dance a little more and maybe you can give all the right moves, I'll let you do something." You tell him, playing with the collar of his shirt with a sultry cock of your head. He nods, leaning down to kiss the soft, clammy skin of your neck before you take his hand and follow the girls to the dancefloor again. His hands instantly wander, your head drifting back to his shoulder. He kisses your neck again, hands placed over your ribs where they finally rest, a vice grip on your body as you rock back against him, your butt pressed to his crotch. You can hear him curse every once in a while, his hands slipping down to your hips, to hold you back against him. He refrains from reaching up to hold your breasts, desperately wanting to but not wanting to embarass you, wanting to keep his respect to Cole. You reach up to thread your fingers through his hair, 

"Baby," he poses in your ear, listening to you hum in response, "how much longer until I get my reward. I wanna taste you so, so bad." He admits, your heart leaping into your throat. You swallow, head turning further up to look at him. He stares down at you, letting you turn in his arms and drape your own over his shoulders, 

"Really?" He nods, glancing down at your lips, 

"Yeah, I wanna fucking ravish you." He admits huskily, leaning in to kiss your feverishly. You hold the back of his head, heart pounding in your chest. You can't say no to him. Not only is it is reward, you don't want to say no. You know you've made him wait long enough and he can swear up and down that he doesn't need the sex to stay with you, but you want to give him something. He's been good. When he pulls back, he stares down into your wide eyes before you nod and his eyebrows raise again, 

"Yeah?" You nod again, clutching his arms as he glances towards a semi lit hallway, 

"You want the formalities or is the bathroom good enough?" 

"It's good enough." You quickly pipe up. He nods before his hand slips into yours and he nearly pulls your shoulder from the socket as he drags you behind him towards the women's bathroom, pushing the door open to find it surprisingly empty. He hums in approval before he turns to you, releasing your hand to cup your face in both of his own hands. He leans in to kiss you, pressing your back against the wall, your hands holding his sweater tight at his hips as he kisses you with raw passion. 

Turning your body just slightly, he backs you into the handicap stall. Its moderately clean for a club, but neither of you pay it mind as he closes and locks the door behind you, his hand slipping to the groove of your knee to lift to his hip. You whimper into his mouth and he smiles, holding you tight to him before he grows impatient and his hands slip beneath the material of your dress, dragging your underwear down your legs, 

"If I were about to fuck you I'd have you bent chest first against this wall, underwear around your knees. It's so fucking sexy when your clothes don't come off." He admits, starting to crouch between your legs before you grab a handful of the sweater on his shoulder. His eyes meet yours and for a moment he sees your eyes swimming in uncertainty. He nods, rubbing up across your thighs, 

"I'll be gentle with you baby, you can trust me." He reassures. You lick your lips, nodding after a moment as you tuck your hands behind you. He smiles, rubbing up your legs as he tucks your panties in his pocket, taking a wedged foot into his hand and dragging it up over his shoulder. Your heart pounds, visible as it beats from your chest and he bows to kiss the inside of your knee. His mouth waters as he smells your arousal, kissing closer to your center, his hand slides along your skin leaving a trail of scorched skin in his wake. His dark eyes flicker up to yours as you raise your dress over your hips, needing to see all of him once he reaches his destination. His eyes are significantly darker, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him. He hums, drawing back for just a minute and licking his lips again before he reaches up, sliding a finger through your folds. The feeling of him touching you is intoxicating and he hums once more in satisfaction,

"So wet darling. God, what do you let me do to you?" He teases, dragging the tip of his finger over your clit before his hand drops into his lap and he leans in, wrapping his lips around your clit, tongue darting out to tease your opening. Your head falls back against the wall, eyes closing tight and teeth coming out to bite your lip. The hand not covered in your juices and resting at your knee to steady you, is placed over your ass, holding you against his mouth. You reach up, covering your own, letting out a whimper after a moment which Tom appreciates. He moans, pressing you further into the wall. The way his mouth feels, the way liquid courage in vodka form pumps through your veins has you suddenly not caring, letting out loud moans and whimpers, one of your hands holding your dress in a tight grip against your thigh, the other raveling in his hair. You give good tugs every once in a while, Tom letting out moans each time, cock hardening further in his jeans as he stares up at your blissed out face. 

He slides his hand up your skin again, slipping two fingers into your heat which draws a cry from your lips. Tom is pleased as the leg you stand on threatens to give out, his grip on you tightening. He groans as you give another sharp tug of his hair, drawing his mouth away from you as his fingers pump up into you in quick tandem, 

"Such a good girl for me. Fuck you taste so good darling, so wet, you like that?" He coos up at you. You nod, the hand previously occupied in his hair slipping up to palm your breast over the fabric of your dress,

"Fuck yes Tommy, you feel so good." You moan. He licks his lips of what's left of you, staring up into your beautiful features. He curls his fingers, smiling as you cry out again, 

"Fuck I would've loved to be your first, but all of this is fuckin amazing." He remarks, nudging his fingers along your sweet spot which sends a jolt through your body each time and brings moans and whimpers from your lips, 

"Tommy... please make me cum. I wanna cum." You beg. He nods, 

"I've got you baby, cum for me." He tells you, leaning back in to suck your clit back into his mouth after a moment. He runs his tongue over it, circling it with the tip of his tongue. You whine, knees trying to give out again as Tom's fingers speed up just the smallest bit inside of you, audibly colliding with your slick as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, your heart and head pounding with each move he makes. Your hips involuntarily move against his face, his chin effectively being soaked in your juices as he watches you. You moan, head falling back against the wall again as you near your high, every nerve ending in your body set on fire. He pulls back after a moment, 

"That's my girl, cum for me sweet thing." He tells you, driving his fingers faster inside of you. He leans in to lap at your clit some more, humming as your thighs quake and you bite the back of your hand to stifle a scream, 

"Good girl baby." He purrs, collecting all that you have to offer as you cum, hand grasping his shoulder tight. He bites his lip, watching you ride out your orgasm against his fingers. He draws them from inside of you, dragging his tongue across your folds once over before he sucks his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them of your juices and slipping your panties from his pocket to slide them up your thighs. He gives your ass a quick swat, molding the flesh in his hand as he kisses and gently nibbles the inside of your thigh before he stands, pressing you to the wall again and collecting your face in his hands, 

"So fucking perfect baby girl. God you're so sexy." He tells you, pressing his hips to yours as he leans in to kiss you, your hands grabbing onto his sweater. You taste yourself on him, tangy and sweet and Tom slides his tongue into your mouth. When he draws back, he lets you careen him back against the opposite wall, hands sliding up under his sweater to rub across his stomach, a part of his body he knows you love to feel up. You bite your lip as you grab hold of the hem of his jeans, your eyes dark, sparkling in mischief, 

"Want a blow?" He doesn't respond and you giggle as his lips turn up, 

"You're fuckin adorable. No, I don't want a blow, I'm okay." He says, leaning in to kiss you again. You hum, running your hands up and down across his stomach, 

"You're sure?" You ask. He nods, smiling down at you,

"Yeah, I'm alright. You looked fucking gorgeous though baby. You look fucking gorgeous." He tells you, watching you sort yourself out. You smile up at him before he follows you out to the sink, watching you fix your dress and hair as he washes his hands. You hum, leaning in to kiss his cheek as he scrubs, 

"How bout this, you do good in the game on Sunday, I'll blow you." You say softly in his ear. He smiles as he looks up at you, glancing down at your lips before you kiss him, 

"When do we get to the fucking?" He teases. You giggle again, standing back to let him dry his hands off, 

"The second you say you love me pretty boy." You toss back. He chuckles, tossing his paper towels into the trash can before he wraps his arms around you, your hands rested on his arms as he backs you from the bathroom, 

"Cheeky little thing." You nod, smiling wide, 

"But I'm your cheeky little thing." You reply. He smiles and nods, kissing you one last time before you sigh and take his hand, leading him towards your friends, 

"I'll let you take me home and we can get undressed and all." You present, watching Tom nod as he runs his hand through his hair, 

"That sounds amazing. It's about fucking time." You smile, leading him towards the front door, a cocky smirk on his face as he reached out to swat your butt once more for all to see. 

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[stellarboystyles]

Malibu Nights

Harry is sick of being “Harry Styles”

He wasn’t happy anymore.

He loved making music and touring. Even more so, he loved his fans, loved them to death and he’d do anything for them.

But, his mental health was suffering.

He was heartbroken, bitter and virtually alone.

Tired and angry from the phone call he just ended with his manager, telling him that he wasn’t a child who needed looking after. He just needed to get out of London.

“I need to do this for me.”

He just wished that his private life could stay private. Was that too much to ask?

He just wished that he could love someone without having them exposed to the harsh side of things. The cameras, the backlash.

He was almost sure that no one could ever truly love him with the life he was living.

Sometimes that thought was enough to make him break down and cry for hours. Feeling sorry for himself became easier and easier these days.

Sometimes, there was comfort in being sad.

Harry found himself back in Malibu. He blended in better there, and over the years he’s learned how to hide, how to go places without being heavily photographed. For the most part.

He had spent the last couple weeks or so indulging in some wholesome, much needed self care. He got to do the things that he loved doing but never had time for anymore. He was eating healthy again, doing some yoga, going for a run every morning, meditating, and it felt good.

He was finally starting to feel like himself again! His bright, cheeky self. 

But he had been itching to go to the beach since he got to Malibu. So, he did what he always did., put on some sunglasses and off he went.

The beach was almost too quiet. As he walked, his ears carefully listened for any shuttering or clicks. Nothing.

Was it be too good to be true? Could no one really know where he was?

Maybe.

Harry made the choice a long time ago to always have gratitude for moments like this. Where he didn’t feel like he was being watched. It was so freeing, like he could truly be himself. He kept walking, feeling the soft sand in between his toes. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath in, the ocean air was the best part about going to the beach.

Suddenly, something hit his ankle. he tried to fix his balance, but before Harry could even comprehend what was happening his back had smacked onto the sand below him.

“Ow.” rubbing his head, he tried to sit up on his elbows to see what he’d tripped over, but his head began to spin. His vision grew fuzzy, forcing him to lay back down. And that’s when he passed out.

***

“C’mon, wake up. Please wake up.”

He felt something cool on his forehead, wincing at how dry his throat felt after he attempted to swallow. He tried to shift to sit up again, but his body just wouldn’t allow it.

“Hey, its okay. You hit your head, just lay down, okay?”

His eyes fluttered open to see a girl leaning over him, her long waves were quickly pushed back behind her ears.

“Do you feel okay?”

Her voice was soft, almost cautious?

She intently stared, her face filled with worry.

She was beautiful.

His legs and arms felt all wiggly and he couldn’t really see too well, but she looked like an angel.

“Think so.” he spoke, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “Wha’ happened?”

“My shoes were in the way, I’m so sorry.” she gushed. “You hit your head on a rock.”

Her hoodie was bunched up and placed underneath his head for support.

“I’d be the one to do somethin’ like tha’.” he chuckled lightly.

“Are you really that clumsy?” she giggled.

Her giggle was so cute.

“No, m’quite graceful actually.” he joked. “Just lanky as hell.”

“I can see that.” she smiled, and Harry almost cooed and how pretty her smile was. “D’you wanna sit up?”

He nods, so she holds her hand out for him to take. He complies, and her other hand was on his back, just in case.

“There you go. D’you feel okay?”

“A bit better. he chewed at his bottom lips before speaking up again. “Thank you.”

She saw the smile he was giving her and suddenly she felt a little shy. “No problem at all, I’m sorry you tripped over my shoes.”

“S’alright, really.” his eyes traveled down to the blanket. On top of the soft material was an open notebook and a pen.

“D’you write?”

Her cheeks couldn’t have been more pink.

“Um, yeah. A little. I mean, s’just fiction. Nothing special.”

He stopped her by putting his hand gently on her shoulder.

“It’s okay.” his lips curved up at her nervousness, it was adorable. “I write too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah—songs, poetry, stuff like tha’.” 

“Can I hear some?”

“Only if you read me somethin’ of yours.” 

“Deal.”

“Okay.” he laughed.

Who was this girl? NO one had ever made him feel this way. He was a little nervous, but he felt so comfortable with her. It was like he’d known her for years already.

“M’sorry, never got your name?” he wondered out loud, tilting his head as he watched her.

And when she told him, it was the most beautiful name he’d ever heard.

“Tha’s a beautiful name.” he smiled.

Harry didn’t think he’d ever stop smiling.

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Darkstache - Seeing the Truth

A follow-on from the prompt where Wilford discovered Dark was colourblind. He’s determined to help Dark experience the beauty that is colour.

Word Count: 1,565

-

If there was one thing every single ego working in the studio could agree on, it was that Wilford was not the smartest of the bunch. He struggled with reading, had difficulties keeping track of time, had an unreliable memory on bad days, among other things. Which was why there was surprise when it was discovered Wiford was undertaking heavy research. Sitting at the desk in his dressing-room-studio, the reporter was immersed in work on his laptop. There was a notebook beside him where he attempted to write legible notes. Several drinking glasses had been conjured and emptied so he could work without the distraction of moving. Another notebook was open and drying on the radiator after some water spilled on it.

But if anyone walked in with the intention to see what he was doing, they were blocked by an invisible bubble. To Dark’s frustration, it included him.

“You know you can’t work on anything without telling me about it. As the company’s lawyer, I need to make sure what you’re doing keeps you out of legal trouble.” Dark folded his arms with an irritated expression. In response, Wilford pulled himself onto his feet, sauntered across the room, and slipped through the bubble barrier to take Dark’s hands in his own.

“Yeah, buuut Google told me that’s only if I’m workin’ on somethin’ fer th’ studio. This is a personal project that I want perfect before I tell anyone!” A seemingly simple answer had alarm bells ringing in Dark’s mind. Wilford always put his brainstorming on display for others. Why was he being so secretive? He tried to pull his hands away, but the reporter’s grip was too tight. “Ya gotta trust me, sugarplum. I’ve been workin’ hard like a little bee in here. Just gimme a little longer an’ I’ll show ya everythin’.”

“Will this be before or after you cause whatever trouble you’re planning?”

“Who said anythin’ ‘bout causin’ trouble?” Wilford was hurt by that, though he was quick to shake it off. “When it’s ready, yer th’ first person I wanna show. Promise.” He kissed Dark on the cheek and added, “Yer still free after work, right?”

--

When the other egos and regular staff had called it a day, Dark returned to Wilford’s empty office. To his surprise, the barrier bubble was gone, but the desk space had been cleared. There was no evidence he could see that might tell him what Wilford was up to. Wilford had actually remembered to shut down the laptop for once. This was certainly an unusual setting for the reporter who was terrible with technology. There had to be a clue somewhere that he wasn’t seeing!

“Babe!” Wilford’s voice made Dark jump. He spun around to notice Wilford had changed clothes to wear a faint blue (maybe) shirt, black trousers and white suspenders (he could tell those colours easily). “Thought I’d catch ya before ya left yer office. Ya ready ta go?” Dark nodded, crossing the room to take Wilford’s free hand.

“A basket?”

“Well, yeah! Can’t have ya gettin’ cold on me, eh? We got a great evenin’ planned an’ I want ya ta be cosy!”

--

The car pulled up at their normal viewing spot outside the city. Dark tried to weasel information out of Wilford, but the reporter was unusually tight-lipped. All he could learn was that the pair were sky-gazing. As much as Dark liked spending time with Wilford, he couldn’t help but feel Wilford forgot that Dark couldn’t enjoy seeing the day sky in the same way. Surely he wouldn’t need to ruin the night by having this conversation a second time, right? Stuck with indecision on what to do, Dark didn’t notice how Wilford sat on the picnic blanket and began pulling things out of the basket at first. A little vase of flowers, a notebook, some juggling balls, a small balloon, a black case… 

“Wilford… What are you doing with all this stuff?” Before Dark could sit, Wilford quickly scrambled back onto his feet.

“No, no! Not yet. Tonight’s a special night. Gonna be one of th’ prettiest views an’ I don’t wantcha missin’ it ‘cause yer askin’ why I have so many things with me.” Wilford wagged a finger playfully at Dark. A graceful bend allowed him to scoop up the black case and hand it to Dark. “A present fer my beautiful shadow.” Dark accepted the case, clicked it open, and frowned.

“... Sunglasses. At 8pm?”

“Well, yeah! There’s gonna be some big bright flashy thing of some sort tonight. Bing was ravin’ ‘bout it. I’m surprised ya didn’t hear ‘bout it!” Wilford had whipped out a pair of sunglasses and rested them in his messy curls. “Go on! Try ‘em on. Betcha look real handsome with ‘em~”

Something wasn’t right, but Dark couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Wilford was acting peculiar, like he was trying to distract the entity from something. Google never mentioned anything about events taking place in the sky. With all the random objects scattered at his feet, it could be Wilford’s way to pull attention away from some crime he had committed while out. That’s why he changed clothes, it had to be! Even with those worries in his head, Wilford looked genuinely excited. Dark never wore sunglasses, but maybe he could humour Wilford and play along. 

The glasses were put on.

The world exploded in a way he never could have predicted.

What was originally a murky mesh of blue, yellow, and grey had now become so much more. Everything was brighter, vivid, alive! He quickly lifted the glasses to see the world as he was used to, then dropped the glasses back down to see this new world. It was the glasses. The glasses were somehow letting him see colour in a way he never could have imagined and couldn’t possibly explain. The colours seemed to shift a little the longer he wore them, possibly as his eyes adjusted to it, allowing him to see so much more. A hand covered his mouth as emotions welled up inside him. Never did he think he would ever see something like this in his entire life.

“Ya doin’ okay?” Wilford’s hand gently squeezed his shoulder. Dark nodded.

“I… I’ve never seen colour like this before. It’s beautiful… I thought you brought me here because you forgot.”

“Nah. I wrote it down when ya told me. This is what I’ve been workin’ on all week that no one knew ‘bout. I wanted ta help ya see colour. These glasses were th’ best way ta do that. Bet it must be weird fer ya.” 

“I never would have guessed how many types of green there are. It all looked the same, but the leaves on the trees and the grass all look so different…” He turned to face Wilford, only to trail off as he took in the sight of his boyfriend in full colour for the first time. He was wearing a purple shirt, not a blue one! Wilford could see the emotion in Dark’s eyes through the tinted lenses as the entity’s hand reached up to Wilford’s face. “... Is that pink? Your moustache… It’s brighter than I could have imagined.” Tears finally slipped underneath the glasses as he laughed. “It’s perfect for you. I can’t stop smiling as I look at it. Oh! I never even realised it was in your hair either! I thought your hair was all one shade!” Fingers looped strands of pink locks to examine them better. “I knew I was right to think of you when I tried to imagine what ‘pink’ looked like.”

“Ya can admire me an’ my pretty pink all ya like later…. But turn ‘round again. I think y’ll like what yer ‘bout ta see.” Wilford kissed Dark on the nose before encouraging the entity to spin back the way he was originally facing.

There, in all its majestic glory behind them, was a sunset. With the distraction of the glasses, enough time had passed for the sun to dip low enough below the horizon. Dark slipped an arm around Wilford’s waist and held on tightly as he took in every inch of the evening sky.

“I knew it was yellow, I knew it was blue, but all the colours in between… No wonder you were always so excited to look at sunsets. I could stare at this all night if I could. I’m seeing colours I never knew existed before. It’s perfect.”

“I thought y’d say that. I try ta keep a diary ta help me remember things so I thought, ‘why not do th’ same fer you’?” A spiral-bound notebook was passed to Dark, open on a page that had coloured squares labelled. “I made ya a little chart so y’d know what colours are what.” A simple gesture had the emotions bubbling over all over again as Dark hugged Wilford tight.

The pair would sit in silence and enjoy the full beauty of the sunset. Wrapped in a purple and white blanket, Dark was given all the time to process what he was seeing. Later, the pair would use the notebook to show Wilford what Dark could now see in the random assortment of items that dotted the blanket as they undertook a masterclass of colour.. But for the moment, seeing the beauty of a colourful world took priority.

---

Note: For those who might be curious, I highly recommend checking out EnChroma, who do indeed make glasses to help those who are colourblind. There are plenty of video reactions to people wearing them for the first time if ever you need to rediscover your appreciation of colour.

[blue-eyes-and-auburn-hairr]

Second Chances Chp. 4

Disclaimer: Okay, I got more notes than I thought I ever would, so while the world is quarantined...I wrote another part.

Warning: Mention of death, fluff, I don’t want to mislead anyone this will very much be a slowburn

Summary: Can you imagine being widowed at such a young age to a man you thought you’d have forever with? On the anniversary of his death, on top of a mountain, Thea and Chris begin their new journey together.

(I want to experiment with a different perspective if its trash I’ll redo this chp. )

Thea had no idea why it was so hard to ghost this guy. It should be easy, they hung out for half a day a week ago. He should already have her out of his head, but no he still continues to call. 

“Ms. Mulligan I finished reading the chapter what should I do now?” Thea’s 3rd period reading support class was currently working on finishing their novel. She would typically read to them but her mind had been scattered all week. 

“Kay, why don’t you draw a picture of your favorite chapter so far on the smartboard?” Thea prompts, knowing that Kay loves to draw and she really is interested in the novel...even if she won’t admit it. 

“Can I listen to music, puhleaseee?” She spins around with a great big smile on her face. 

“As long as you don’t blast it and its not that Billie Eye Lash person,” Thea rolls her eyes with a smirk knowing what would follow. 

“Mully, you’re embarrassing yourself you know her name is Billie Eilish because I’ve stalked your Spotify playlist, right Kai?” Kai, who was too busy reading the next chapter to even look up when she responds, “Yeah Mully, we are currently working on one of those mixtapes for you so be prepared.” 

The nickname Thea fought for a good three months but finally caved when her co-workers started using it as well. As for the Spotify stalking, not surprised more impressed and she was now looking forward to the next mixtape they give her. 

Last semester, Thea assigned the class a project that required them to find a song to coincide with each chapter of their novel. The students also had to write one paragraph explaining why they choose each song. That was when the revolting started for about 20 minutes until Andrew, in the back of the class, had enough and shouted, “She is legit letting us listen to music all class period and write like 10 paragraphs for a week. The other students have to write an essay on like literary devices or something and they had to read the book all by themselves.” 

“Legit?” Kay announced shocked.

“Legit Kay, legit,” Thea sighs, “Also we have like 78 words on the word wall can we work on using one of those instead of ‘legit’?” 

“Bet.” Kai says with her hand in the air and at that point, Thea just puts her head down silently laughing. 

Her phone buzzed on her desk again, this time it was just a CNN update but the missed call was still staring her in the face. All Thea has felt since that night was guilt. She felt like she was cheating on Jamie and all they did was hug before getting in their own cars and driving away. The bubble burst though on the drive home when the waterworks wouldn’t stop and she had to pull over on the side of the road almost three times. 

And then Sunday morning, her phone rings and she watches as it goes to voicemail and then it vibrates again with a voicemail. She stares at her phone for a few more minutes before playing the message. 

Hey Thea, I just wanted to call and check in on you. You never messaged me when you got home last night and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Leaving West Point now and you were right I think I definitely made the guard’s day.  I’m sure you are busy getting ready for the school day tomorrow but if you have a second to talk I’m around. Okay, take care now. 

He called one more time that evening but no message. It was now Friday and Thea had five missed calls and two messages in total. She did not know how to process all of this and she had been burying herself in work trying to stay busy avoiding the topic. She did that with most things and she knew it wasn’t going to end well and that she was being selfish. So she picked up her phone and tried to type out a text, but then the bell rang and the class started to pack up. 

“Okay, guys I’ll see most of you in 7th and 8th for Math, make sure to have your homework notebook, hint, hint hint,” Thea says with a wink. She knew their anxiety would soar if they walked in not knowing about a homework check so she always made sure she casually mentioned something to them. Her co-teacher was not a fan of this, but her kids, her decision. 

Thea now had a prep period and then lunch to try and sort out all of her thoughts. She even had time to call Chris back, but she did not trust herself to keep her emotions in check, especially while at work. 

Hey Chris, Sorry for the disappearing act. I’m still just trying to process everything and work has kept me occupied. Can we talk tonight? Text, call or even facetime if that’s easier.  Sorry again. 

Chris’ phone finally vibrated in his pocket as he was walking out of a bagel shop in New York City. He was supposed to make his way to Boston to see his family after his trip upstate but that was sidetracked by some work stuff. 

His new movie, “Captain America: Civil War was being released in a few weeks and he had a few talk shows and then the Lower Manhattan premiere was on May 4th. He knew he was going to be in town for some time now and wanted to see Thea again. 

She just didn’t want to see him. 

He had no idea what he did wrong and wanted a chance to see her and explain that. So when she finally answered him back he wasn’t sure how to respond. He would prefer to talk in person but did not want to upset her or whatever else he may have done. He tried to call his brother for some advice but that call went to voicemail as well, but his mom picked up on the first ring. 

“Chris, honey you okay?” 

“Yeah Ma, I just needed a little advice and Scott didn’t answer,” he admits to his mother.

“Well, why would you call him before me? Does he give better advice or somethin’?” This was a rabbit hole Chris would very much like to avoid. 

“It’s about a girl Ma, he already knows most of the back story,” Chris sighs through the phone.

“Ahh, so this is about the girl you met on the hike, well more like Dodger found, who you had to call your brother about in the bathroom while on a date with her?” 

“Wait what? We weren’t on a date and wow did he really tell you everything?” Chris says in complete shock. “And let the record show that I called him when SHE was in the bathroom.”

“Of course he did, I’m his mother, he tells me everything” cue the eye roll. 

“Okay Ma, and yes I called Scott, obviously that was a mistake,” Chris chuckles “He apparently blabbed everything.” Chris still wasn’t sure why he called his brother when Thea went to the bathroom, he just was so happy for the first time in a while that he needed to tell someone.

“So this is the girl that you’re going to marry, huh?” His mother bluntly states, causing Chris to almost drop his phone. 

“What the fuck did Scott say? Who said anything about marriage? We talked for like four hours and she has been avoiding me all week.”

“Scott said you were going on and on about how you finally ‘found her’ which is why he called me 20 seconds after hanging up with you.” Thank goodness for the ballcap and the glasses or all of NYC would see the flushed cheeks of Christopher Evans. 

“Okay, can we circle back to that whole topic later? Or maybe after I have a word with my kid brother. How do I ask her to meet up with me tonight when she only wanted to talk on the phone? Is that too forward? Should I just say yes to the phone call?” Chris continued to ramble to his mother. 

“It can’t hurt to ask,” such a simple response and yet it was perfect. “Just mind your manners, you were raised better Christopher.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Chris says finally smiling because he has a plan. 

“And if you need to call anyone on this date, call me not your brother,” she chuckles on the phone. “Love you and let me know how it goes.”

“Love you too”

Hey Thea, a phone call would be perfect unless you would want to meet up in person? I’m still in New York and would really like to see you again. If you wanted to meet in the city or someplace by you...whatever is easier. 

Thea wanted to act like she was shocked by the message but she understood. Jamie and her relationship started out as long-distance, so when you have the opportunity to see someone in person you jump. 

She didn’t know if she was ready for all of this, but she also knew it wasn’t fair to Chris. They needed to talk and put all of their cards on the table.

I would like to see you again too, but whatever is easier for you.

Long Beach is about an hour train ride to the city, but not sure would be better for you with people and stuff. 

You could also come here and we could get some ice cream and take a walk on the boardwalk? If that doesn’t sound too cliche...

The bell is going to ring so no rush we can figure this out after school. 

Thea finally stopped blowing up his phone by her overthinking and put her phone in her bag for the rest of the school day. 

The afternoon went by in a flash, Thea waited until she got into her car after school to look at her phone. 

Not cliche at all, that sounds perfect. I can be to you by 7, just send me the address of the ice cream shop 

Thea forwarded the address and then made her way home. She had a few hours to kill before she would see Chris so she tried to busy herself with things to do to prevent the overthinking. 

Chris on the other head couldn’t stop the overthinking and the worst-case scenarios that played out in his head. He has so many things to worry about with the movie and all the press but he cannot get her beautiful smile out of his head. 

He just didn’t know what it was about her, everything about Thea just seemed authentic. She had been dealt such a tough hand that would make any person cold and distant, but she still wears her heart on her sleeve.  Even Dodger could see her genuine soul and stepped in to defend her when we were on the mountain. Chris just wanted to get to know her better, he thought he might miss out on something unbelievable if he just walked away. He also understood that she was still so hurt and wanted to help her in any way that he could. 

Chris thought about that while driving down to the ice cream shop and pulling into the parking lot a few minutes early. He spotted Thea as she was laying down a blanket in the trunk of her Jeep. He could only see the back of her and he was glad she was wearing something comfy and casual. It made him feel better about his jeans and t-shirt that took him an hour to finally commit too. He parked his car and made his way over to her, he closed his truck door loudly and called her name so he didn’t startle her. She didn’t turn around, she was too busy struggling with her own nerves. She had been fixing this blanket for a good 10 minutes and trying to decide whether or not it was lame and if she should scrap the whole idea. She didn’t even have a clue that Chris was behind her for a few minutes before she actually turned around with a jump. 

“Sorry, I was trying so hard not to scare you but you didn’t respond when I called your name a few times,” stumbled with his words. 

Thea kept a hand over her heart trying to steady her breathing and when it was finally calmed she looked up to see Chris’ concerned expression. 

Thea couldn’t help but laugh, “Well you looked like the last time we met too, only I had a knife in my hand and yet you look more scared now.” 

And just like that the tension that had worried them both had broken as Thea walked over to give Chris a big hug. They make there way over to the line and ordered two sundaes and then head back to her car. 

“I figured we could sit here while we ate our ice cream and then head to the boardwalk, its a few minutes away but I didn’t want the sundaes to melt” 

Chris continues staring at his ice cream trying to find a way to ask the question that had been driving him crazy all week. He didn’t know how to phrase it without making the situation worse. 

Thea scoots back into the car and sits like a pretzel, “So let’s talk about it before the elephant in the room gets any bigger.” Thea used to be all about beating around the bush but after everything that happened, time is one thing you can never get back. 

“Did I do something to upset you? I have been trying to figure out why you didn’t answer and I am coming up short” Chris admits finally looking away from his ice cream. 

“You did nothing wrong and I don’t want to sound like an asshole when I say that this had nothing to do with you,” Thea says while running her fingers through her hair. Chris sits patiently giving her a second to collect her thoughts. 

“I want to explain this right, so please take everything I say with a grain of salt because I am bound to put my foot in my mouth” Thea sets the stage with a disclaimer because she is absolutely terrified of the direction this could go. 

“You know that feeling when you are exercising or playing a sport and your breaths are coming shorter and the tightness in your chest is growing? You can still breath but it’s a struggle and you cannot wait for it to subside? And then finally you stop and you catch your breath and the air in your lungs fills again and you know you are going to be okay?” Chris nods along to Thea’s analogy trying to see where she was going with this. 

Thea takes a second to collect her words again, “Chris, I have been trying to catch my breath for three years now and no outlet, no resource, nothing was helping. The panic attacks while I was awake and even when I was sleeping, I just couldn’t...” Thea tries to collect herself shaking the tears from eyes refusing to let them spill. “And then I ask Jamie for a sign that it’s okay for me to stop running and I turn around and there you were” Thea clears her throat again.

“And Chris, I finally started breathing again.”

“Then we hugged and I got in my car and started to drive away and all at once it was gone and my lungs were aching and I was terrified and lost all over again” Chris is not sure at what point he reached for her hand but he was gently squeezing it as Thea continued to shake her head. 

“Out of nowhere, I was angry at myself that I let this happen and how I was a fool for thinking I could be normal again.” Thea pulled her hand away, “I woke up to the text you sent me and then the guilt set in. I felt guilty being happy with you and wanting to answer you and then guilty because I was not being fair to you and then guilty because we only knew each other for a few hours and I was giving so much power to something that wasn’t real.”  She swirls the melting ice cream in her lap, “and now I am just sad because sitting here with you right now with all these emotions I am breathing just fine.”

“And I am scared of what will happen next.” 

Chris had no idea how to react to all of this, she had so many layers and so much going on and unintentionally he hurt her. Thea was right though this wasn’t about him but the fact that he was helping and hurting her at the same time was making his head spin. Nothing was sitting right with him and maybe ice cream wasn’t the best choice because his stomach was churning. 

“I don’t know what to say, the thought that I am causing you pain, it makes me sick. Why would you say this isn’t real though?”

“Chris,” Thea sighs “I don’t know, you’re you and I’m me and I am talking this Chris not that other guy so don’t jump to conclusions. I am filled with scars and a heart that may never work again. You are so sweet and caring and could be anywhere right now and yet you are here with me eating ice cream in my trunk. We only talked for one evening, it just doesn’t make sense.” 

“Isn’t that how all great stories start though, with a great evening that leads to many more?”

“Chris, the only thing I can offer you is a hand to hold and friendship, I don’t think I can handle much more and that’s not fair to you.”

“Deal, sold, I’ll take it. Now let’s head to the boardwalk before it gets too chilly” Chris says while taking the melted ice cream and tossing it. 

“Wait what?” Thea says completely taken back. 

“I am not done getting to know you and I have a feeling this will all be worth it,” Chris says with a smirk. 

“Chris, I really don’t…” Chris cut Thea off, “I’m an optimist so let’s just enjoy each other’s company, okay?” 

Thea nods and recommends that Chris should follow her back to her apartment building to leave his truck so that they can just walk from there to the boardwalk, parking was bound to be crazy on this warm spring night. When they finally park and head to the boardwalk, Chris, optimistically, grabs Thea’s hand and they start their walk with the breeze from the open pushing them along. 

Chris decides while looking at her windblown hair, that he is going to help her no matter what. She deserves so much happiness in this life, Chris made a silent promise to her that all of her hardest days were behind her.  

Giving her hand an extra squeeze, Chris looks out into the distance and makes the same promise to the night sky that was watching over her.

@chi00072 @capstopavenger​

[gegenji]

RP Partner: @aigaiap​

Loloki Loki || It is a fine day/night in the Goblet, and the sounds of the city could be heard off in the distance. The door opens, with a ring or whatever Chach has installed. What passes through first is... a frog on two legs - it holds the door open and bows dramatically. A Dunesfolk woman walks through - her face half-covered by a turban popularized by a certain Monetarist with goggles of Sharlayan make attached. She stops to look around the shop. The walking frog closes the door behind her.

Chachanji Gegenji || The smithy itself is rather... well, perhaps even a bit stiflingly... hot. A bit less so given the colder months giving a bit of a chill to the air, but that also just makes the buffeting of the hot forge air that rushes out with the door opening all the more noticeable.  The windchime by the door seems to have been set up for this exact thing, and its ringing causes the wiggling of Chachan's ears as he pauses in his inventory. Hopping from step to chest, he peers over the counter with a- Chachanji Gegenji | - cheerful smile. "Hallo! Welcome ta th' Usagenji Ironworks!"

Loloki Loki looks around the room - the heat doesn't seem to bother the Dunesfolk - or maybe because she's already wearing airy robes. She's covered with a variety of trinkets and knicknacks. Her face is obscured, but there no sense that she is impressed with what is displayed. She sniffs in the hot dry forge air before turning to face Chachanji, "Greetings, I have an appointment with this establishment's master."

Chachanji Gegenji: "Master?" he repeats before clambering down from his perch to be more on eye-level with the other Lalafell. He's pretty short even for a Lalafell, so eye-level might not be the correct term. His physique is mostly blurred by his own heavy attire, but the hammer strapped to his back at least implies he has some modicum of physical strength - given it seems to be sized to be used by a Roegadyn rather than a Lalafell. "Well, I wouldn't call meself a 'master' but th' smithy is mine so... I 'spose-- Chachanji Gegenji: -- tha's me?" Chachanji Gegenji: "Chachanji Gegenji. Nice ta meetcha." You perform an Eastern greeting for Loloki Loki.

Loloki Loki: "Oh? Pardon me, I assume that... No....", the Poroggo decided to open it's mouth, "She thought you were the hel...." The Dunesfolk turned back and glares at the frog. It froze immediately like a deer caught in headlights. "It is a honored to meet you, Ser Chachanji Gegenji. I am Loloki Loki." She curties to him.

Chachanji Gegenji glances between Loloki and the poroggo, scratching idly at his freckled cheek with a stout finger. Still, he doesn't comment on the unspoken back-and-forth between them and just give a smile as he returns his hands from the eastern-style greeting he had given. "Oh! From tha'..." A pause, obviously trying to think of a good word to describe the complex verbiage that had been written. "... Fancy! Fancy letter!" He nods. "Ya had some... armor ya wanted me ta look at?" The tone has a brief hint- Chachanji Gegenji || - of uncertainty. Of trying to make sure he deciphered her writing correctly.

Loloki Loki remains silent for a moment. The way her head moves indicates that she's looking him over. His gear. His physique. His eyes. This forge. Evaluating and grading behind her mask. After a moment, she sighs - in a manner that sounds of disappointment - but she shakes her head after a few seconds before lifting it with a smile, "Indeed. I have a item I need evaluated, and you were highly recommended by my sources. My normal avenues are either not available or are back in the Old World." Loloki Loki shrugs at you.

Chachanji Gegenji blinks as he's examined - his violet eyes seemingly more... reflective than a usual Dunesfolk's. He subtly adjusts his garments at the gaze, seeming to try to ensure as little of his physique is identifiable as possible. When she looks to the forge, he turns to it as well and then back to her. The sigh - apparently caught by those long ears - causes them to droop slightly, but he rallies well enough. "A-ah. Sure thin'. I'll do what I can ta help."

Loloki Loki nods - face obscured by a smile. She reaches into her back and takes out a rather heavy-looking pair of darksteel gauntlets. "I would like these gauntlets to be evaluated by a professional armorer. I am told you specialize in protective equipment. As I noted in my missive to you, would it be within your abilities to determine to what extent does the armor's materials integrate with the absorbed aetherical density post-recovery?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "A-ah, I do, yeah," he agrees as his eyes shift to the gauntlets. He moves closer to get a better look at them - even taking one and looking it over himself should she let him. Despite his rather plain and - perhaps childish - facial features, the intensity with which he observes the equipment is solid proof that this establishment IS his and he knows what he's doing. "... So these were made ta... absorb aether?" he queries idly as he looks them over.

Loloki Loki shakes her head and sighs again, "No. These are just gauntlets. Ser Chachanji, what do you know about spiritbinding?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "They aren't jus' gauntlets, though," he states, holding the one gauntlet up. "'s Darksteel, 'n really *good* quality Darksteel. 'n th' craftin' style - along wit th' the wear 'n tear - makes me thin' these are pretty old. Couple decades at least." Is he trying to show off his skill or is this all just tumbling out because it's his nature? Hard to say. "Th' sheen is interestin', though. 've seen it a couple times... us'lly from stuff folks needed repaired 'r resized tha' they got outta dungeon-- Chachanji Gegenji: divin' 'n th' like." Chachanji Gegenji: "Izzat tha' 'spiritbindin'' yer talkin' 'bout?"

Loloki Loki: "Not wholly." She sighs again. Loki steps a little to Chachanji's side and looks him over again, "I was wrong to assume too much. You have provided useful information, but allow me to explain." Her tone changed, "Spiritbonds is the spiritually-charged connection that an individual forms with their equipment, clothing, and other effects that they wear on their person over long periods of time. Your favorite tools for instance. Or a accessory from a old friend." She reaches up and rubs a - Loloki Loki -- earring that looks like aetheryte. "It is this connection that is exploited for use in the creation of materia. You are familiar with materia, I presume?"

Chachanji Gegenji pouts a little at being talked down at about this. "A'course I know 'bout th' bondin' ya can do wit yer equipment," he states, perhaps with a little hint of indignation. "It jus' dun cause th' sorta sheen thi' has - 'r th' ones folks get from their dungeon-divin'. Otherwise me hammer here'd be shinin' up a storm." He motions to the tool with a brief tilt of his head. "'n I know 'bout materia 'n affixin' it. Jus' never learned th' process fer how ta make th' materia in th' first place."

Loloki Loki 's in her lecturing mode, "Materia is a piece of the wielder's aether. As you wear or utilize a piece of equipment, your 'spiritbond' imparts a piece of your aether to the object. Once it is of sufficient density, it can be extracted to create materia. As for the sheen, it would take many lifetimes for that to happen. Certain materials do it more efficiently and faster, such as Eikon metal. It is related to spiritbonding in the sense that it also -- Loloki Loki || involves the wielder's aether. The process is similar to how crystals form naturally. Do you understand, Ser Chachanji?"

Chachanji Gegenji gets the feeling he should have a notebook and be taking notes for a test later. Which makes him pout a little. "W-well, tha' jus' furthers me belief tha' these gauntlets'r pretty old if'n they've managed ta bond wit enuff folks tha' they're shinin' like thi'."

Loloki Loki: "That is not the only means. In fact, I have seen this phenomena in newer items. Some crafters in Sharlayan have learned to infuse aether into their creations to enhance their abilities without the benefit of eons. The Garleans, domineering warmongers they may be, have learned to do this with aetherochemistry to an extent. However, for these gauntlets, I hypothesize that this is a case of aetherical gear - when an individual dies violently, there is a chance for their aether to become -- Loloki Loki: || trapped in their equipment. A more superstitious interpretation would be their souls are trapped in their equipment." Loloki Loki: "I need confirmation if this was the case. I know especially talented and skilled crafters are capable of similar infusions, and have the knowledge to distinguish between artifical and 'natural' aetherical gear." Loloki Loki watches Chachanji silently once she finishes.

Chachanji Gegenji looks a little bit frightened and upset by that last bit, idly fidgeting with a bracelet of prayer beads under his left sleeve as he murmurs a quiet prayer for the departed. He might very well be one of those superstitious types. He seems happy to focus on the former topic rather than the latter, and latches onto it quickly enough. "W-well, if'n there's a way ta do tha'... tha'd be neat ta know. Could help me make ev'n better equipment fer keepin' folks safe. ... if'n I can do it, a'course." Chachanji Gegenji: "As fer these gauntlets, th' age 'n craftin' style makes me thin' it's prolly one'a them 'natural' aethericamacal types rather'n somethin' created wit it ta start wit." Chachanji Gegenji: "But I'd need examples'a both a'fore I can be super sure 'bout tha'." He shrugs.

Loloki Loki: "That is an assumption. It can be 'natural', but it is forged expertly enough that it could be 'artificial'. I had heard you were a particularly skilled craftsman - have you or the master to which you were apprenticed to - done aetherical infusions before?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "Ya mean me Papa? He's back home in Doma, helpin' wit th' reconstructin' efforts," the little smith answers. "'n he always talked 'bout puttin' a bit of yerself inta yer work... but I dun think he meant it so... literally?" The Gegenji style was mostly a focus on artisanship and effective design. Exceptionally powerful equipment made just through raw talent and craft than imbuing aether into it. Though, given the amount of effort and energy spent in the process... some infusion may happen-- Chachanji Gegenji: incidentally. Though, these oft led to those sorts of weapons that were "control or be controlled" - the Gegenji concept of Intent. Chachanji Gegenji: "He did warn tha' ya gotta be careful when makin' stuff, since th' Intent could prove too strong fer th' user. 'n then they get used by th' weapon rather than them usin' it."

Loloki Loki: "What do you think, Ser Chachanji." She's got a instructor's tone. Loloki Loki gazes upon you in deep reflection.

Chachanji Gegenji: "Well, like I said... thi' seems more like tha' natural type ya said rather'n it bein' designed tha' way... I ain't sensin' any solid Intent innit."

Loloki Loki: "Intent is a form of belief. Belief is a form of spiritual aetheric energy. Overtime, that aetheric energy can harmonize with its environment. But I suppose you are correct in that there needs to be a sample and comparison. What if I commissioned you to craft something with a large concentration of your 'Intent', then compared between them? Gil is no object."

Chachanji Gegenji looks VERY nervous about that. "O-oh... u-um... I-I act'lly try ta AVOID makin' stuff wit Intent when I can... I-I dun want it ta be too much fer someone ta handle, y'know?"

Loloki Loki: "Hmm? I am sure I can handle it." She points to the tattoos on her neck and the weird glowing necklace. "Or are you not up to it? How long has it been since you have done so, Ser Chachanji?"

Chachanji Gegenji still doesn't seem entirely convinced. "W-well, I haven't really... ACTIVELY tried ta do it at all. Mostly been tryin' ta avoid it." Chachanji Gegenji: "Keepin' yer mind clear when makin' th' extra strong stuff, y'know? Tha' sorta thin'"

Loloki Loki: "Hmph. Then this is a request. I need a comparison. And a means to evaluate your ability as so many have vouched for your ability. Your Intent is most likely aether. And I wish to evaluate it. I am a specialist in the field of aetherial accumulation, particularly natural accumulation, although as you know from our discussion, I do not shy away from artifical means. I can provide you with the materials you need."

Chachanji Gegenji frowns and scratches at his cheek.

Loloki Loki: "As I said, you do not need to worry. All precautions will be taken."

Chachanji Gegenji: "W-well, I dun have much doubt in me ability ta make good gear," he insists. "I hafta in order ta keep peoples safe. Addin' Intent jus' makes it more... dangerous, y'know? 'n I dun want anyone gettin' hurt or forced ta do thin's they might not wanna do because'a it."

Loloki Loki: "As I said. No one will be hurt. I have been exposed to artifacts with 'primal' aether." She touches her faintly glowing necklace. "I have encountered a large range of aetherical types and entities over my career and studies, and I guarantee you that all necessary precautions will be taken. As strong as you believe your Intent is, I doubt it is stronger than an artifact infused with the 'intent' of a primal."

Chachanji Gegenji: "A-ah... I-I 'spose..." he relents. He had never encountered a Primal himself, but he HAD heard tales of the tempered. Hard not to around Limsa and Ul'dah with the likes of Leviathan and Ifrit being called upon. "S-still, I'd feel more comfortable tha' - after ya do yer... um... 'tests' 'r whatev'r - what I make fer it be destroyed afterward. I'd feel better knowin' tha' it won't get inta th' wrong hands."

Loloki Loki: "It will be fine. Why should it be destroyed? It will be sent to Sharlayan to be collected and archived. If it is deemed as dangerous as you believe, it will be recorded and sealed. There are far more dangerous items in the world. Or are you concern as matter of your legacy?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "Um... more tha' it could end up hurtin' someone, like I said," he insists. "I do what I do ta help people, not ta hurt 'em. Havin' somethin' out there tha' could - 'n not wit someone I fully trust, though prolly wit 'em too - would jus'... eat at me, y'know? Make me worry." Chachanji Gegenji is a worrywart.

Loloki Loki: "Artifacts sealed away in priority containment cells will never see the light of day. In the worst case scenario, the cells will self-destruct or banish their contents to the void. If it worries you so much, you may be allowed to journey to the Old World to see the precautions. The Forum has been moving towards an isolationist approach towards the outside world, but they would be glad to welcome a visiting Disciple of the Hand of obvious skill and capability. Provided, of course, -- Loloki Loki: -- ' that your creation is as 'dangerous' as you say it is."

Chachanji Gegenji still doesn't seem very appeased. Being asked to make something potentially dangerous for someone he doesn't know on the promise that it'll be kept somewhere supposedly safe. "I dunno..."

Loloki Loki sighs, "Do you seek knowledge? Do you want to know how to create greater and greater creations? I - We can open the door. If you do as I ask, and if it is as potent as you say, it will be put in the care of stewards far more capable than any you would find here in this... land. You will be allowed to learn from the knowledge we have collected. To know of other cultures, present and past. Would that not expand your horizons, Ser Chachanji? To know the true extent of your abilities? Or...." Loloki Loki motions to the room. Perhaps the house. Perhaps the city. Perhaps more. "...Is this... all you desire to aspire to?"

Chachanji Gegenji frowns. "I want ta help people. Keep them safe. Make sure - if'n they hafta go out ta fight - tha' they can return home to their loved ones afterward." Chachanji Gegenji: "It ain't about jus' tryin' ta see how good I can be. It's bein' as good as I can be ta make sure tha' what I make helps keep those peoples safe."

Loloki Loki: "And new knowledge can help you do that. A technique from ancient Nym that infuses metal with regenerative ability. To know about a leather which would sap the aether of those who wear use it. Knowledge to protect and shield the ignorant from the dangers of this star."

Chachanji Gegenji looks uncomfortable. "L-look, I won't lie. Summa tha' sounds nice - not th' aether-drainin' leathers, a'course - but yer still askin' me ta make somethin' potentially dangerous. 'd already be trustin' ya plenty 'nuff tha' ya could handle it... but I still dun like th' idea'a it bein' carted off afterward. I'd rather it be returned back ta its base materials rather'n risk it gettin' mishandled 'r misused 'n ultimately hurtin' folks."

Loloki Loki: "We do not know if it will really hurt anyone. As you said, you have not actually created any in awhile. And if it will allay your concerns, we can do the first evaluations here." Loloki Loki: "If you want, I can give you time to think on it."

Chachanji Gegenji: "... I dun mind ya doin' yer studies here, tha's fine," he admits. "Th' point is tha' if'n I feel it could be dangerous - fer any reason - 'm destroyin' it afterwards."

Loloki Loki: "That is acceptable."

Chachanji Gegenji: "Akay then," he huffs, looking at the gauntlet. "So... assumin' thi' is th' 'natural' aether. I figger makin' a similar gauntlet in my method would work?"

Loloki Loki: "I leave it to your discretion. You are the expert."

Chachanji Gegenji: "Well, yer doin' a compary-son, right?" he states. "So ya'd want as lil' differences between th' two as possible other'n th' aether innit." Chachanji Gegenji: "So I'll see if'n I can get ahold of some Darksteel 'round thi' quality 'n try ta replicate th' design. Jus'... also not doin' me usual exercises ta avoid puttin' Intent inta it." Chachanji Gegenji scratches at his cheek. "It'll be weird not doin' 'em, honestly. 's basically habit at thi' point."

Loloki Loki: "Yes. It would be ideal. I could provided it to you. Think of it as a new adventure, as one of my students would say"

Chachanji Gegenji: "Mm." He seems on the fence about that. "W-well, 's less adventure-seekin' 'n more wantin' ta be helpful. 'n knowin' how strong th' Intent I can put inta somethin' can be... might be nice ta help me make sure folks can handle me strongest stuff. Though I wouldn't mind knowin' how ta strengthen equipment wit aether tha' dun risk puttin' Intent inta it..." Chachanji Gegenji: "Which is kinda th' only reason 'm agreein' ta thi'. 'm trustin' ya a lot here. Plus knowin' I can get rid'a it if'n it's too dangerous... it makes me tha' lil' bit less worried."

Loloki Loki: "Intent may just be aether. If they are the same, then you will know."

Chachanji Gegenji: "I 'spose..."

Loloki Loki: "You trust easily, but I promise I will do my best to uphold my end of the bargain." Loloki Loki motions to herself.

Chachanji Gegenji: "I'd rather trust than not, if'n I can," he explains. "But I also know tha' jus' trustin' folks blindly can be dangerous too. 'specially when we're dealin' with Intent."

Loloki Loki: "Understandable. But as I said, this 'intent' of yours may just be aether. We will have to see. I am interested in this. I hope it does not disappoint."

Chachanji Gegenji: "W-well, we'll see. I dun think I'll have pro'lems recreatin' a copy'a one'a these gauntlets. 'specially if'n I have one wit me 'n all th' materials ta do it." He holds up one of the aforementioned gauntlets for emphasis. "'s... jus' actively tryin' ta put Intent inta it tha' might be difficult."

Loloki Loki: "I trust your skill and professionalism. You are free to modify them slightly, if you believe it to be necessary. Comparison is one objective. How the aether make-up changes between artificial and natural is also of interest."

Chachanji Gegenji: "Ah, r-right," he nods a nod of someone who doesn't really get what you're saying but trying to at least make it less obvious. "Well, um. Once I have th' materials, I'll see 'bout knockin' thi' out. 'm assumin' it's akay fer me ta keep one'a th' gauntlets fer ref'rence?"

Loloki Loki nods to gauntlet that Chach has, "Sure. I can have the materials delivered to you in a few suns. It will take time to find enough Darksteel of sufficient quality."

Chachanji Gegenji nods. With some of the safety concerns checked off now, he seems less... skittish about the idea. If only a little. "W-well, if'n yer havin' trouble, I can always reach out ta some'a me contacts. I... kinda inherited a Smeltin' Guild a cycle'r so ago through thi' whole trial thin' involvin' ingots 'n stuff..." A pause, then a sheepish smile. "S-so I have access ta some mines 'n folks what can provide raw materials if'n needed."

Loloki Loki: "I leave it to your discretion. As long as the materials are of sufficient quality."

Chachanji Gegenji: "'m sure they will be," he offers. "... 'course, 'll know if they ain't."

Loloki Loki nods to you.

Chachanji Gegenji: "So... um... anythin' else I can help ya wit t'day?"

Loloki Loki reaches into her robe and offers a linkpearl to Chach, "If you need to contact me. I may not always be available, but an assistant will answer instead."

Chachanji Gegenji: "Ah, sure thin'." He takes the pearl and it disappears into one of the many pouches about his person.

Loloki Loki reaches again and pulls out a heavy sack, "Your pre-payment, for materials and this consultation." She offers it to him.

Chachanji Gegenji: "A-ah, sure thin'..." he repeats, a bit more awkwardly as he feels the weight of the coinage. He usually is on the cheaper side of things - he's making his equipment to help people, not turn a profit - but he's a bit less argumentative about this one since he's dealing both with high quality Darksteel (which isn't exactly cheap) and the creation of something potentially dangerous. So it the sack also disappears into one of his pouches.

Loloki Loki: "Is that sufficient for your needs, Ser Chachanji?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "Oh, uh, yeah. Should be fine," he states. "Though, um... ya dun need ta call me 'Ser.'"

Loloki Loki: "Worry not, Ser Chachanji. It is a habit of mine." She smiles.

Chachanji Gegenji scratches at his cheek. "... If'n ya say so..."

Loloki Loki: "With that, I believe our business is concluded." She snaps her finger and her frozen frog minion reanimates, and rushes to open the door for her.

Chachanji Gegenji: "'spose so," he agrees. "Well, I'll keep ya posted on how th' glove's comin' along, then."

Loloki Loki bows courteously to you. Loloki Loki: "May the Twelve grace you, Ser Chachanji Gegenji."

You perform an Eastern bow before Loloki LokiMateus. Chachanji Gegenji: "Ah, 'n may th' kami watch ov'r ya, Ms. Loloki."

Loloki Loki leaves just like that. Her ears twitch upward, but otherwise, there's no sign of her hearing Chach's farewell.

[arigatouiris]

revenge is a fool’s game // arthur morgan — [04]

pairing: arthur morgan x female!reader

word count: 1941

warnings: strong violence, emotional distress, mentions of torture, rape and sexual abuse, explicit sexual references, a whole lotta angst, cowboy stuff;

notes: i don’t get that many notes on this story but that’s okay! i love arthur, and i love writing so i guess i don’t need notes to update this fic. but, it would help a great deal if you guys would let me know if this story is worth reading? it’d be a boost for motivation as well. anyway, for marvel fans, i’m also writing a bucky barnes fanfiction that’ll be out soon, so be sure to look out for that! 

not following a taglist for this, i can’t seem to keep track of people who ask so just check on my masterlist~

masterlist in bio~

Chapter Four: The Wild West is Filled With Bastards

○

John was slowly making life difficult for her. (y/n) knew that John knew, and even if his words weren’t taken seriously, there was not another soul out there in the world who knew (y/n) was still alive and was disguising herself a woman. John would pass dirty glares at her as she did her regular chores as Riley, forcing Mrs. Grimshaw to smack him a couple of times for slacking off. Sure, (y/n) felt bad for the boy—frustrated that no one took his words seriously, and having everyone believe he was spewing nonsense. 

But, what if someone one day listened to him? What if they get to know that she’s a scrawny little woman who’s after something women shouldn’t be after?

Chills went down her spine each time she thought of such an aftermath. She would have to do something about John, she knew. She would have to worry and think of a plan that can perhaps convince John that she was a man. I can’t convince him, I can’t show him a penis that ain’t there, she thought, frowning to herself as she stacked the pile of hay in front of Dutch’s horse. She was slowly rising into panic, and she knew it was only about time before John loses it and yells that she’s a woman.

However, before any of that could happen, Hosea had a request. Hosea’s request made (y/n) want to almost leave the group, but considering how Dutch insisted as well, she knew she had no other choice.

“Take John wit’ ya. He’s slackin’ off most of the time, and there ain’t much out here that he can do. Buyin’ groceries and medicine might do ‘im some good.” Hosea’s kind voice and kind smile made her feel bad that she was lying to him.

“I ain’t goin’ with her!” John protested, visibly looking livid.

(y/n) felt her insides do a flip. Her gaze turned to Arthur, who chuckled once before slapping the boy’s back.

“You still on with this nonsense, Marston?” Arthur asked.

“It ain’t nonsense, Arthur! Like ya’ll ever believe me. Ask ‘er! Ask ‘er to show ya’ll her penis—”

Another smack.

“That’s enough from you, Marston.” Arthur sighed.

(y/n) was perhaps the only one who was possibly shitting her pants. However, going to town with the boy might change things. To either good (which, she highly doubted) or bad, which was possibly the case.

“Take Arthur’s horse for now. But here,” Hosea came forward and gave (y/n) some money. “Buy yerself a new one. You’ll need it—”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, before returning the money. She pressed her lips together before pulling out her small notebook.

I don’t want to buy a horse. “Buying” sounds wrong. It’s life.

(y/n) blushed before showing it to the man, who chuckled a couple of times.

“Well, then. Let’s hope someone gives one to ya, then.” Hosea joked before turning away.

Arthur didn’t catch hold of the note. John’s words stuck on, but he knew the boy wasn’t being serious. But, to let a joke continue on for so long? Arthur frowned before eyeing Riley from top to bottom, finding no hint of him being a woman like John says so. The baggy shirt that he was wearing was messy, but there was no sign of womanhood on the boy. Sure, he looked ragged and scrawny but he had seen his fair share of scrawny boys. The wild west wasn’t really a place where all boys grew to be men.

He shrugged his thoughts away before minding his own business. If it was anything, then it was Riley’s problem to deal with. Not his.

○

“I hate bein’ paired with you.” John said, frowning.

Because (y/n) had chosen not to take Dutch’s horse, they had taken the carriage instead. John sat beside her, not really wanting to, but there was only so much he could do. Sure, he put up a fight when it came to actually cooperating with her, but (y/n) knew he wouldn’t so much as to raise his voice or disobey Hosea or Dutch. They had raised him, after all.

“You ain’t foolin’ no one, lady.” John said, hoping to instigate some reaction out of (y/n).

She didn’t budge. She kept her gaze straight and her eyes didn’t waver. If only John didn’t pose too much of a threat, she’d have smacked him on the head, herself.

“I don’t get what yer tryin’ ta prove.”

You’ll never understand, either way, she thought before maintaining her composure. She licked her lips once before catching a glimpse of a small town in the front—Fogmount. Tiny, but sufficient. She had the list that Mrs. Grimshaw had given, and she hoped John wouldn’t run off.

She looked at the boy who shot her the meanest glare a 15-year old can conjure, and turned away from him.

“I ain’t runnin’, don’t get yer panties twisted in a bunch.”

Oh, I really wanna hit him now, she thought before frowning. After stopping the carriage near the entrance, she gestured for John to follow. The boy grunted before choosing not to say anything more. The two of them walked inside town, earning a few looks from the locals—for not having seen them before.

This kind of attention sometimes doesn’t sit well with a lot of people. To the naked eye, (y/n) and John, who went by Riley and John, seemed harmless and almost invisible. But, to a crowd that wanted trouble, they seemed like targets. She caught sight of a nasty crowd of men, standing aside and drinking in public, which was quite odd since there was a saloon not too far from where they stood. The men seemed like the type to hit on women that passed them by, making people uncomfortable was what sat well with these folk. 

However, what pissed her off even more was the fact that they choose to drink and cause a fuss in the middle of the day, when no one really expected shit like this to go down.

Her hand flew to John’s wrist, which John only shrugged violently before spitting on the ground in haste.

“I don’t need yer help, lady!” John was a bit too loud, causing her eyes to widen and the other bunch of men to listen.

“You need ta’ stay the hell away from me!”

(y/n) tried once more to pull John away, now noticing the men approaching them, laughing and chortling on their own. John once again pulled back, now stepping back in retaliation, before his back collided with one of the men. There were three in total, but was enough to cause a distraction. She really didn’t need this right now.

John gasped before the man grabbed his collar from the back, and yanked him aside, forcing John to stand straight and put an arm over his shoulder.

“Ya heard the little man, lady,” the man mimicked John’s insult. “Leave ‘im alone.”

The men behind him laughed, but John wasn’t. A sudden rush of adrenaline hit the boy, and she had hoped that the situation wouldn’t escalate. Another man approached her before grabbing her collar.

“Why’s a mangy mutt like yerself in our town?”

“Yeah, never seen ‘em before.” Another one joined in.

John struggled, in the meanwhile, knowing (y/n) couldn’t talk back. However, when she didn’t reply, the man holding her collar, punched her squarely in the face. John froze before seeing (y/n) fall to the ground, blood coming out of her mouth. If there was any bit of anger that was in him, it went away as he watched her get back up and plead for John to be released.

“Ya can’t talk or somethin’?” The man who punched her mocked.

“Get away from ‘im, you bastards!” John screamed, before kicking the man’s foot, and running to (y/n).

“Let’s get outa’ here, Riley.” John sounded scared, but he didn’t want to seem like it.

However, that wasn’t the men’s plan. One of them grabbed John again, but before John felt the punch come, (y/n) had kicked the man’s shin and pushed him to the ground. Before a second thought, her fist went flying to the man who punched her, and hit him squarely below the jawline, shocking him, and using her other hand to hit him again, knocking him to the ground.

The third man who had held John, rushed forward, but she was too quick. She went behind the man and grabbed his hand before twisting it uncharacteristically, and kicking him behind the knee, knocking him down. She used her right hand and hit him hard on the nape of his neck, knocking him down as well.

She then turned, grabbed John’s hand and rushed back to the carriage. She knew now was her chance, and feeling terrible about not getting Mrs. Grimshaw’s things, (y/n) sat John down beside her and raced back to the camp. John, not having said a word the whole while, didn’t know what to say. He looked at (y/n)’s bleeding mouth and nose, bruised face, discolored and ugly from the punch that sent her to the ground, and turned away with shame. It was his fault. This had happened because he failed to cooperate.

There were always going to be terrible goons in the world. And he was saved by someone he had teased constantly for being a woman. John wouldn’t admit it, he had seen the bandages inside her tent one night, but had never told anyone. Perhaps, for saving his life that day, he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t apologize to Riley. He just wouldn’t aggravate the situation as he had earlier. It was not his call to make, whether Riley was a woman or not. Even if she was a woman, she had saved his life, knocking three men twice her size down to the ground. And if he had any self-respect, which John believed he had, he would not make her anymore uncomfortable than he already had.

When the two of them reached the tent empty handed, Mrs. Grimshaw wanted to yell. But, once her eyes fell on Riley’s bruised and bloody face and John having been untouched, she knew what had happened. Riley gave her a helpless smile, a smile that hurt him as he stretched his lip, Mrs. Grimshaw shushed him.

“John, be grateful.” Was all she said, before grabbing Riley’s scrawny wrist and leading him away to mend him.

Dutch and Hosea noticed Riley’s face and scolded John, demanding him to tell them both what had happened. John was quiet, and it was only after Arthur came and placed a comforting shoulder on the younger boy did John even begin to speak. Tears pooled in his eyes, but he dared not to let them fall.

“Riley helped me. There were these bastards,” John sniffed before continuing, “Drunk all of ‘em. He beat ‘em to the ground. He saved me from bein’ beaten too.”

His hands were clenched and John hated the position he was in.

“No girl coulda done that,” Dutch said, laughing.

Arthur noticed John’s expression. John wasn’t just feeling helpless, the boy was feeling regret. Regret for being bullied? Nah, Arthur thought before heading out of Dutch’s tent and looking at Mrs. Grimshaw mend Riley. He didn’t believe John’s words before, he knew that for sure. There was no reason for a woman to dress up like a man and go around asking to kill Colm o’Driscoll. If there was something, then there was something more than what Arthur could figure out on his own.

It was not his problem, he told himself in the end and let it go.

[something-tofightfor]

Just a Place - Part 8

Pairing: Ryan Brenner x Reader

Word Count: 8180

Rating: M (language, implication of sex)

Summary: You and Ryan continue your life together - moving from city to city, but with purpose. You have your 2nd exhibit opening, meet more of his friends, and then, again, someone from his past reaches out. 

Author’s Note: Uh, it took me six months to get this out, and I feel terrible. (I know I wrote (s)He’s a Tiger and some drabbles for them, but I cannot and will not continue to neglect Ryan. Promise. While I didn’t write it with her in mind, this chapter is dedicated to @gollyderek​ ... because who doesn’t want a little Ryan Brenner on their birthday? Happy birthday, Laura! 

Your POV 

The trip to San Francisco had been a whirlwind; your second exhibition opening going much more smoothly than the first. To start, you had help with setting up the show, your time spent in the gallery passing more quickly because you were rarely alone like you had been in Philadelphia. The biggest difference, though, had been that Ryan was there to help you - and he’d built the freestanding walls by hand, the sound of his voice echoing off of the walls of the room as he sang to himself while he worked. It comforted you, and you’d caught yourself grinning more than once while you sat at the small table in one corner of the room, signing the matted images in golden ink and numbering them just in case they happened to sell.  Andrea had been present often while you prepared the space, introducing you and Ryan to her wife Joanna, and Ryan had quickly charmed the woman, as per usual. 

 By the time your opening night came, you weren’t even nervous anymore, and you knew that it was because Ryan was there with you, his dark eyes watching your every move, never far from you and yet giving you all of the space you needed. His arrival to the city had been a surprise for you; you’d expected him to give you flight information so that you could pick him up, but instead he’d showed up on the morning of the 29th, at the hotel room you’d booked, two quick knocks on the door and nothing else. Needless to say, you’d been late getting to the gallery to begin your setup, but it didn’t matter because with Ryan’s help, you finished things in double time. 

 Though the trip was only a few days long, it was nice to be on the coast again, to be away from Middle America, to be in charge of something. You loved that Ryan was taking the lead on so many things - the houses with David, finding the place in Olathe, the independent remodel - but the show was yours, something for you to obsess over, to plan, to see through. The opening had been wonderful, the guests friendly and interested, you answering their questions without hesitation. Ryan had even made some connections; people had been all too excited to talk to him after seeing that he was again the only human subject in your images. You’d used the pictures of him from Las Vegas, repeating the enlarged one in the center of the exhibit - but this time, you’d asked him to sign the back of the ones he was in, too, his eyes going wide as you handed him the pen. “It’s about you, too, Ry.”

 Though there had been no sunroom for Ryan to lead you to after the drive back to your hotel, you’d spent the remainder of the night in much the same way you had after the first, dozing off at sunup and waking up just early enough to take showers before rushing back to the airport to make it back to Kansas. Since you’d been so focused on your show, Ryan had acknowledged his words from the night he’d called from Phoenix but hadn’t explained them, promising instead that you’d talk when you returned to the house. But when you got back there, the fixtures and tile had been delivered, meaning that the two of you were busy again for a few days, making as much progress as you could on the house before you’d needed to call an electrician to come out and rewire the electrical lines properly. 

 There wasn’t much you could do while you waited, and so finally, one morning about a week after you and Ryan had returned from San Francisco, you approached him with a coffee mug in your hands as he laid on his back on the couch, reading through a notebook full of his lyrics. “Ry?” He immediately looked up at you, lips curving into a smile. “You said we needed to talk, right?” He sat up, planting his feet on the floor and reached up for the mug, taking it from you as you lowered yourself onto his lap, his free arm curling around your waist. 

 “I did.” You sipped from the coffee and waited. “It’s nothin’ bad, I -”

 “I didn’t think it was… not after you…” You shook your head, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, head shaking back and forth. “Not after you said you were gonna come to San Fran, anyway.” You’d never tell him how it had felt to hear him say the words “I’m not coming home” to you, separated by thousands of miles after two weeks of spotty contact. You’d never tell him, but you suspected that he knew how he’d made you feel with those words, even though you didn’t need him to explain himself. I thought he was leaving, I thought he was going to… “But I still wanna know, Ry.” He stared at you for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts and then reached for the mug you held, leaning forward to put it on the crate that you were using for a table. 

 “So…” He settled back, the hand on your hip slipping beneath the bottom hem of the shirt you wore, the rough fingers of his left hand moving against your skin. “So you were right.” You turned your head toward him, puzzled. “I was off before I left, but I was off while I was travelin’ too.” What? “I wanna… I wanna be with my friends, record with ‘em, not do the, the whole studio thing, yeah?” You nodded. “And I think that… when I was in Arizona, talkin’ with Georgie, I realized that it wasn’t that I was restless because I felt trapped here, like you thought.” I did think that. “Stayin’ in one place, for months at a time used to scare the hell out of me, but when I… when Cowboy died?” Ryan shook his head back and forth slowly, eyes downcast. “He left his wife, he left his kid. What I did - what we did was so dangerous, so damn stupid.” Ryan trailed off, thinking. “But it was life, and I got used to it, and then I met you, and you just accepted it.” I did. “I’m making a mess of this, I know I am, but what it comes down to is that I wasn’t off because I wasn’t happy - I was… it scared me that it was so easy for me to make such a big... “ He blew out a breath. “I wasn’t expecting for it to be so easy for me to stop, to settle into a routine, to be with someone all the time, and then when it was, I didn’t… I didn’t trust it.” 

 It made sense to you, the way that he was explaining it, and you were surprised that you hadn’t picked up on his reasoning. Telling him as much, you shifted on his lap. “I thought you were restless because of me, Ryan.” 

 “You?” You nodded. “Why would you have been…” 

 “Ryan, I offered to move in with you the first night we found each other again, I know I came on a little strong.” He looked surprised at that, but you didn’t let him speak. “And then after that, things just moved really quickly, and then we were buying a house, and moving again, and…” You shrugged. “It’s a lot, and there were days where I just figured you were going along with it because you didn’t know how to tell me…”

 “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t ever do that with you.” He said your name, drawing out the end of it. “I mean it. It wasn’t because of you, it was because of me.” Ryan closed his eyes, tilting his head back. “I spent half my life livin’ day to day, and I got used to it - it was a routine for me, an’ then when I found a new routine? It was different. But I didn’t want to think about what it meant.” 

 “What does it mean, Ryan?” He looked back at you, the most honest expression that you’d ever seen him wear on his face. 

 “It means that my life is about more than music, more than travel, more than… more than me.” He paused. “I told you before  that I’ve never felt like someone wanted to build somethin’ from the ground up with me, they just wanted to fit me into their life, like a piece that was missin’, and I’ve never felt that with you.” Because I’ve never done that, I never… “But.” He grinned. “It took you telling me to go for me to figure out that you weren’t giving me a choice between you and the road like J... like she did.” You nodded, noting the catch in his voice. “You weren’t tryin’ to make me pick between you and that life, an’ I figured it out.” Ryan leaned in, nose brushing against yours. “All on my own.” He kissed you, his thumb trailing around the curve of your ear as he pulled away. “And as soon as I did, it was like I couldn’t get back to you soon enough, even though I knew I had to wait a few days.” 

 “Did you miss me, Ryan Brenner?” Your tone was breathy; you couldn’t help it when he was that close to you, the scent of him invading your senses, his voice low and smooth in your ear. He nodded, lips moving over your cheekbone and then down, lingering against your jaw. 

 “I did” He sighed. “I don’t like not talkin’ to you, even for only a few days, it reminds me of when I lost my phone.” You froze but recovered quickly, the arm that was around his neck tightening slightly, your fingers playing with the thick hair at the base of his skull. “I don’t like feelin’ like that.” I don’t either. “But that’s enough.” He cleared his throat. “The point is that I’m not leavin’ any time soon, and even though bein’ out and playing again was great, it’s not the same as it used to be. I was alone before, and that was fine, but I’m not alone now, and I don’t wanna be.” 

 “Good.” He kissed you again, this time softly, his hair falling over one eye and moving over your skin. “Good, Ry, because I don’t either.” 

--- 

 The electrician came and went, bringing the house up to code, and with that done, you and Ryan blazed through the remainder of the renovations, finishing a few days after the 4th of July. You’d watched the fireworks from the roof of the house, you and Ryan sitting together with his arms around you, his chin resting on your shoulder and you settled between his knees. It was humid with a slight breeze, but you didn’t care, knowing that you’d be peeling your sticky clothes off of each other a few minutes after the fireworks ended anyway. As the splashes of color boomed in the sky above you, you felt Ryan’s lips moving against the back of your neck and then over your bare shoulder, the gentle hum coming from the back of this throat vibrating against your skin. I never wanna lose this.  

 The house was listed for sale early the following week, Ryan handling everything, including working with the realtor to choose a starting price, and you’d watched his eyes widen when he received the paperwork. A little drywall and some new flooring goes a long way, Brenner. You knew that the summer months were a typically slow for buyers, but when, at the beginning of August, Ryan received three offers on the house, you weren’t surprised. With the extra money from the last house he’d worked on with David and the profits from the current house, you knew that the amount of money Ryan had to his name was more than he’d ever realistically imagined he’d have at once in his lifetime - and you were happy for him. 

 You moved out of Olathe and rented a place in Texas - not to renovate, but to live, and then headed south to Louisiana, visiting with one of Ryan’s old friends and her husband and kids. You knew what Fabienne had meant to him, and could immediately understand how he’d fallen under her spell. She was vibrant and friendly, welcoming the two of you into her home without pause, throwing her arms around Ryan and then around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek while telling you that you were going to be good friends and that she couldn’t wait to show you her city. 

 “Is it strange for you, Ryan?” You asked him as you laid in bed next to him later that night, wearing only one of his t shirts, Ryan dressed in a pair of athletic shorts. “To think that we’re in the house with someone that you -”

 “Nah.” He rolled toward you, using one large hand to push the hair out of your face. “Fabi and I… it’s been a long time. We were never gonna last, and we both knew it even though we pretended it wasn’t true for a while.” He smiled at you, and you both went silent, listening to the quiet hum of the air conditioner outside of the bedroom window. “We had fun together, but she and Alex are perfect for each other, she was ready to stay long before I was.” He craned his neck to kiss you, pressing your back against the mattress. “Is it weird for you? Bein’ here, in bed with me, wearin’ my clothes, knowin’ that they’re wonderin’...”

 “I don’t have anything to worry about with her, Ry, or with you.” You stared up at him, still able to pick out every one of his features, even in the darkness of the room. “Ten years is ten years…” Slowly, you dragged your nails down his chest, watching the slight flare of his nostrils and the way his tongue poked out from between his lips while he hovered over you. “And Ryan?” You used your free hand to pull his head down to yours again, sighing into his mouth. “She’s been with you, she knows exactly what we’re doing in here.” He laughed, easing himself back on top of you and agreed, and by the time you fell asleep a long while later, you weren’t wearing his shirt anymore.

 You stayed with Fabienne and Alexander for a week and a half, getting to know the couple and spending the rest of your time exploring the streets of New Orleans, Ryan taking his guitar and going back to places he’d played earlier in his life. He fit in with the city and surrounding area just as well as you knew he’d fit into a place like Memphis or Nashville, slipping into street performances and onstage at bars, fingers moving quickly over the frets and strings of his guitar, soulful voice loud in your ears. Watching him was like being in a trance, and a quick glance around whatever area you were in confirmed that others felt the same, too. 

 But you always made it back to their home to sleep, using the spare key that Alexander had slipped into your hand while you ate beignets at Cafe du Monde, taking a break from the heat and humidity and letting Ryan and Fabi play. You’d been surprised that he was fine with letting you stay, knowing that he was aware of the relationship that his wife had had with Ryan, but he’d explained his feelings to you over coffee the second night, his green eyes full of honesty. 

 “They weren’t together long, and they were both pretty young. I know it was serious and I know that they cared for each other, but it was before … before we’d met.” You watched him stare at you, deep in thought. “She told me that she felt terrible about ending things with him, but that she needed to do it before he… before they hurt each other more and lost each other for good.” Ryan had told you the same, his words hesitant while he explained that he’d loved the woman but didn’t think he’d been in love with her, despite what his hormones had allowed him to believe. “I fell in love with her the day I met her.” 

 “Really?” He nodded, smiling at you over the rim of his cup. “That’s gotta be a good story.” 

 “It is.” He leaned back in his chair, the thumb of his right hand rubbing against the wedding band he wore on his left, still smiling. “Came here on vacation with my brother. We wanted to do the typical tourist shit, you know? I was twenty five, and hadn’t ever had anything long term. She was singin’ on the sidewalk, right there for everyone to see, and I heard her before I saw her - and I knew.” You widened your eyes, remembering walking up to Ryan, hearing him play his guitar, seeing him sitting on his crate for the first time. “Asked her to get a drink that night, and told my brother not to expect me back in the room.” He shook his head, the look in his eyes far away. “We stayed out til sunrise, and even though I had to leave a couple days later, I was back here after two months.” 

 “You uprooted your life for her?”

 “Yes. And I haven’t regretted it once.” He shook his head. “We dated for a little over a year, I proposed and we got married six months later. Ryan was there, he came back for it.” Alexander laughed. “This was… three years after they broke up? He came back through a few times, stopped in, stayed overnight, but I never... He was always so nice, so good with Cecily when she was little… “ Alexander nodded his head. “Ryan wouldn’t ever try anything with someone else’s woman, and that was one of the first things he said to me when I met him.” 

 “I’m not surprised.” You chewed on the nail of your thumb for a few seconds. “First night we met, he was… nice, but didn’t try anything, was just friendly.” The man watched you. “And even… the next night, when we talked for the first time? Even after I invited him back to my room to get out of the rain? He asked before he kissed me for the first time, then made sure that there was no one…”

 “He’s a good guy, and there aren’t many people that live like him that are as…” Alexander paused, narrowing his eyes as he thought. “As concerned with what people think of ‘em.” You nodded, realizing that he was right. “I was happy to have him there for the wedding, and I’m just as happy to have the two of you here now. So’s she. She always… she’s always gonna a soft spot for him, and I can’t blame her for that. I trust her, and I trust him.” 

 After leaving Louisiana  - and the woman who’d said goodbye to both of you with kisses on the cheek, Ryan’s skin flushed pink as you’d turned and walked through the doors of the airport - you and Ryan moved further west, spending the end of summer and beginning of autumn in Texas. He played music, adding to his bank account, recorded a few songs, and you took freelance photography jobs, filling in gaps of time while you lived out of the house you’d rented. Both of you were living the lives that you’d been before you met with two big exceptions: the first being that you’d adopted some of each other’s mannerisms, and the second that you two were together as often as possible. Ryan didn’t travel by train or sleep on the couches of friends anymore, and you took the time to see the cities you stayed in, getting a feel for the people that lived in them instead of simply taking pictures of the spaces and moving on once you’d gotten ‘the shot’. 

 You knew that you’d been fortunate in life, had been able to travel with your parents and for work and see places that most people only dreamed about, but they’d just been trips to you, ways to pass the time. You’d made a few memories, sure, but the more you traveled with Ryan, the more you realized that your first great memories started in Vegas - with him. You knew that the number of places he’d seen and been and the things that Ryan had experienced paled in comparison to your own extensive and privileged history, but Ryan took each day as it came, no matter what, finding things to be excited about, and the more time you spent with him, the more you tried to do the same. 

 From Texas, you moved north, finding a clean, but outdated trailer to renovate in Durango, Colorado, going in half and half on the price. It had been on the market for months, so you got a great deal on it, and you spent your second Christmas together tucked into the cozy confines of the mobile home, snow falling outside the walls. You hadn’t spent a Christmas in the snow in years, and even though it was even more low key than the one you’d had in Charleston, you enjoyed the second holiday with Ryan more, the tiny tree in the corner decorated with a few strings of lights and only the important ornaments hanging from the branches. It was a few days before Christmas when you got a phone call from Andrea, updating you that all of the pieces from your show that had sold had been packaged and shipped out to the buyers, and that you could expect to receive your pay shortly after the beginning of the year, along with some of the remaining images. “There were people that actually bid on some of them,” the woman had said. “So your take home was a little… higher than we expected it to be, even with some pieces unsold and a few others donated, plus our commission.” You’d inquired as to the amount, but Andrea refused to tell you, which you thought was strange. “I promise you, the surprise will be worth it for you.” 

 New Year’s Eve passed too, you and Ryan working side by side to renovate the trailer and get it ready to put on the market as soon as the weather turned. He was teaching you a lot about remodeling, and even though the snow - and the nearby parks and mountains kept you busy with your camera, you helped Ryan a lot more than you had in Olathe. The check from San Francisco showed up on January 9th, tucked into a thick envelope with the sale records, the remaining pictures and a handwritten letter from Andrea. The letter told you to contact her when you were ready for another show, that she’d put you in touch with a few gallery options. But the amount listed on the check floored you, causing you to stand frozen in the middle of the kitchen, the paper clutched in your shaking hands. “What’s wrong?” Ryan walked into the room quickly, his arms going around you from behind. “You OK?”

 “Yeah, Ry, it’s… its from Andrea, I…” You tilted the check, showing him the amount and heard his low whistle, felt his hold on you tighten. “It’s way more than… it’s just… they’re just pictures, Ryan, it’s not…”

 “It’s not just pictures.” He kissed you on the side of the head, taking a deep breath. “It’s art, and you deserve every penny of that.” You knew he was right, but it was still unreal to you to think that in the span of a year, you’d had not one but two shows, your art selling better than you’d ever imagined it would. This is enough to live off of for a year, and we’re still gonna make money with this place, I can’t… “I think it stopped snowin’ outside.” Ryan said your name quietly, turning you to face him and pulling the check from your hand, setting it down on top of the envelope. “We should go celebrate.” He leaned down, kissing you and keeping his hands at your waist. “Lemme buy you dinner.” You nodded, agreeing and Ryan kissed you again, taking your lower lip between his teeth before pulling away to look into your eyes. “I’m proud of you.” You whispered his name, leaning even closer into him. “Get your boots on.” 

 You went out, even though the roads weren’t great, and had a nice dinner, Ryan swatting your hand away when the waitress brought the check out and then taking it back in his as he led you out the door and to the bar next door to the restaurant for a drink. It was one of the ones he played at, and he played out often, still managing to network, even though he wasn’t focused entirely on music during the winter months. Ryan was happy with the schedule he’d set for himself and you were happy to have Chris and Jameson stay with you for a few days the following week, the two men going along with Ryan to play at a bar downtown for one night with you tagging along to watch. Might not be his focus, but it’s still important to him, you thought as you watched the three of them onstage, the crowd totally engaged with their set.

 The next morning, they helped him carry in drywall sheets and wooden beams and planks, needing only a few trips into the house to get the supplies unloaded from the rented truck. The three of them gutted both bathrooms during the time they stayed, redoing the floors and walls in only a few days time, and you were impressed with how hard they worked to complete each room. You were proud of Ryan too,  who’d paid the men for the work they did, despite both of them insisting that a warm and safe place to sleep was enough. “You’re gonna take this, and you’re gonna thank me,” he said as he shook his head at both men. “It wouldn’t be right for me to… we worked for hours.”

 You cooked for everyone every night, and even though there was only one bed in the house along with a single small couch, when you’d run to Walmart for groceries while they shopped at the hardware store, you’d picked up a new air mattress and extra pillows, along with a few extra towels, just so everyone was covered. It wasn’t home, but you still wanted to be a good host and make sure Ryan’s friends were comfortable.

 The week after Chris and Jameson left, you got a text from Ryan while you were out taking pictures, asking you to come home. Worried, you’d stopped and climbed back into your car, thoughts racing as you made your way home. He’d shoveled the driveway while you were out, and you made a mental note to thank him, but forgot what you were going to say as soon as you walked into the house. Ryan was sitting at the small kitchen table, hands folded in front of him, hair loose and hanging over his eyes. What’s going on? “Ry… what… are you OK?” He looked up at you for a second, and you saw that his eyes were rimmed in red, though his cheeks were dry. 

 “I just got a phone call.” He cleared his throat. “Come sit.” You did, slipping your boots off and making your way across the room, pulling a chair out and moving it around the table so that you were closer to Ryan before you sat. A phone call? The last time, it was… “Ginny… Ginny wants me to come an’ see her and Henry.” Ryan looked up at you again, fear in his eyes. “He’s gonna be four, and she thinks…” He took a deep breath. “She wants him to know Cowboy’s friends, thinks it’s…” 

 “That’s great, Ryan, I know you miss her, and you miss him, and maybe seeing them will…” You were smiling, leaning in to take Ryan’s hand in yours and squeezing. “I’m glad she called you, I know you said she didn’t -”

 “That means…” He looked up again, and you saw an uneasy look in his eyes. “Means I gotta go back to Utah. Back to… Ogden.” 

 “Oh, Ryan, I…” Jackie. 

 --- 

Ryan’s POV 

 He watched as you stared at him, saw the change in your eyes, the way you tried to keep your expression even. That’s how I feel too. He’d been thrilled to see Ginny’s number on his phone’s screen, happy to hear her voice after two and a half years … but when she’d said she got his new number from Georgie and asked him if he could swing by the next time he was passing through, Ryan had paused before answering. “I told her… told her what I.. what we were up to, and she was surprised.” Ryan forced a smile. “Told her I’d try to make it out, but that with the weather, I didn’t know how soon it would be.” 

 “Of course, Ryan, you’ve got to be excited to get back out there and see them. Henry’s… he’s a little person now, and -”

 “Stop.” Don’t drag this out. “You know what Utah means.” You flinched at that, but Ryan turned his hand over, his fingers curling around yours. “Ginny said she’s not livin’ with her mom anymore, her and Henry got their own apartment, but Ogden’s small, and it…”

 “Ryan.” You scooted closer to him, shaking your head. “You don’t need to explain yourself.” You tilted your head back, staring at the ceiling. “I know you’re not going to go there and look for her.” You looked back at him and he felt his heartbeat speed up, eyes moving over your face quickly. “I hope you-”

 “Will you come with me?” The words came out in a rush. “I want you to meet my friends, and you can’t meet Cowboy, but… but Ginny and Henry are -”

 “If you want me to, Ry.” You moved your chair even closer, reaching out with the hand that he wasn’t holding to push his hair away from his eyes. “Just let me know when.” 

--- 

 January slipped into February, and though little changed - Ryan still working with you to finish the house, playing out twice a week, writing music and updating his online accounts with videos  - the closer spring got, the more anxious he was. It wasn’t just that he was worried that he might run into Jackie or Lia in Utah, he was worried about seeing Ginny again after so long. Before, the three of them would go months without seeing each other, and then catch up as if no time at all had passed, but things were different - and Ryan knew it. It’ll be fine. She really wants me there, she wouldn’t have called if she didn’t. 

 He worked hard on the house with your help, and by the time you were putting the finishing touches on it, it was nearly March, and the weather was finally clearing. You scheduled the home inspection, and once the man gave the go-ahead, you took photographs of the interior of the house, listing it for sale. “Now we wait, Ryan.” You were right, of course, and so the two of you busied yourself with exploring the city while you waited for buyers. He kept Ginny updated, sending messages back and forth with the woman, and when, finally, you accepted an offer from a buyer that was contingent on the bank fully approving the loan they’d need, Ryan called his old friend again. He paced in the driveway as he talked, the sun warm on his shoulders though the air was still chilly. “Hey, Ginny, the house… we found someone to buy it, soon as we get approval from the bank, we can…” He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the distant mountains. “We can head up to you.” 

 “Yeah?” He confirmed, and Ginny spoke again. “We’re happy to have you, Ryan, but we got an apartment, and there’s no room for you to -”

 “S’ok,Ginny, we’ll stay in a motel or somethin’, it’s no big deal.” He’d already figured that you’d stay somewhere else, and remembered that while there weren’t a ton of hotels in the city, there were enough. “We’ll be drivin’ in, so gettin’ to you and Henry won’t -”

 “She’s coming with you, Ryan?” Why wouldn’t she? “I figured…”

 “She wants to meet, you, Virginia.” His voice low, Ryan ran his hand through his hair. “You and Henry, and I want her to, she…” Ryan drew his lower lip into his mouth, pausing. “You’re gonna love her, Ginny.” And he really thought she would, could picture the two of you talking over coffee or dinner, sitting on the couch and trading stories about Ryan. It’ll be good. 

 So you packed up your Colorado home, moving the few belongings you had into a small storage area until you knew where you’d end up next, you remarking to Ryan that your possessions were scattered across the United States and him replying by saying “yeah, but now it means you gotta go back to pick ‘em all up.” The smile you gave him made his chest tight; he’d never met anyone as excited about the prospect of travel as you, and that made him happier than he’d ever thought he could be without actually being on the road full time. The night before you were set to leave for Utah, you and Ryan were sleeping on the air mattress - the last thing in the house aside from your packed luggage and the two guitar cases -  in the middle of the living room, but Ryan had woken up before your alarm, before you’d even moved from your position curled into his side. 

 He stared over at you, shifting slightly against the soft surface of the airbed and used one hand to brush your hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers glancing off of your skin. He watched you in the low light that crept in around the corners of the drawn blinds, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you enjoyed your last few minutes of sleep before getting into the car, and wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. Not only being with you, but finding you in the first place still seemed unreal to him on some days. After Jackie, he’d been resigned to being alone after seeing what being with someone had been like, what it had taken from him to even try, but in all those months knowing you, he’d never felt like he’d actually sacrificed anything - not once. 

 He’d been sleeping next to you for just shy of two years, telling you he loved you, doing what he could to take care of you, and you’d never once questioned his intentions or his ability to prioritize. You’d never asked anything of him that you wouldn’t have done yourself, and yet he knew that  you still worried sometimes that you were asking too much of him. But the more he thought about the trip you were about to begin, the more he wondered if he was asking too much of you. He wanted you to meet Ginny and Henry, wanted you to meet Cowboy’s brother if he was still in town… but Ryan knew the risks, knew what going back to that snowy little town at the base of the mountains meant. 

 It wasn’t the trip itself he was worried about; the drive was easy. It’s under eight hours. Less than a day. Ryan took a breath, tilting his head down to kiss the top of your head. It’s what happens when we get there. “Hey, sleepy.” His own voice low and thick, Ryan said your name. “Time to wake up.” You sighed, groaning, and scooted closer to him, your hand pressed against his bare chest. “C’mon, we get on the road by 5:30 we can be there by …”

 “I know, Ryan, but…” You leaned in, lips finding the skin at the base of his throat. “But you’re warm, and…” He heard you sigh, felt the rush of warmth hit him as you exhaled. “And I’m comfortable and…”

 “Don’t lie to me.” He grinned, pushing you gently away from him, and at your reaction, he continued. “This thing’s not made for two people. We’re not comfortable.” But it was - to him - because he was used to sleeping on floors and the hard metal bottoms of train cars, and though he would have chosen any of them again in a heartbeat if it meant you had a comfortable place to sleep, Ryan was comfortable anywhere he was with you in his arms. “We gotta get up, get…”

 “I know.” You slowly sat up, hair falling forward and over one shoulder. “Gotta get dressed and start driving to U-”

 “Ginny.” He met your eyes without blinking. “To her and Henry and a few days with my friends.” You wouldn’t admit it to him, but he could hear it in that moment - when your guard was down as you chased the final remnants of sleep away - you were worried about what going to Ogden would bring. “It’s got memories, yeah, but Utah’s… just a place.” He shook his head. “Just a stop. Just a reminder of a couple… months of my life.” He swallowed, sitting up and hearing the mattress squeak beneath him. “It’s not about where I’m goin’ anymore, it’s where I’ve been.”  You widened your eyes and he reached out, running a thumb over the back of your hand. “Let’s get dressed, an’ get the car packed up.” You closed your eyes for a moment and then moved to get up, but Ryan’s fingers closed around yours. “Wait.” 

 “What, R-” He leaned in, kissing you by surprise and after almost no time at all, you kissed him back, pulling your hand away from his to hold onto his upper arms, Ryan’s fingers tangling in your hair. “Good morning to you, too, Brenner.” He laughed quietly, swallowing, and then kissed you again, this time pressing his lips gently over different parts of your face. He started with your lips and then moved to your cheek, working his way back to your ear and then up to your temple, where they lingered. “Thought you wanted to leave, Ry.” But you didn’t pull away, instead using your fingers to tease the skin of his shoulders and upper back, grip tightening. 

 “We gotta.” He admitted it to you, sighing, and then leaned back, looking at you. “But it’s our last mornin’ here, and…” He shrugged, tilting his head. “I had to continue the celebration from last…” You laughed, releasing his shoulders and stood, the bottom hem of his shirt barely grazing the tops of your thighs. 

 “Ryan, if we do that, we won’t be out of here for hours.” He lowered his head, fighting back a smile. “Come on, it’s not that long a drive, and we’ll get there in time for lunch.” You took a few steps away from the air mattress and Ryan watched as you moved, eyes fixed on your bare legs. “Get up, Brenner, I don’t hear you moving.” He swore as he stood, pulling his pants up a little higher and stepped over to where you were standing in front of the built in countertop, your clothes folded neatly on top of it. Ryan took a deep breath, his fingertips running up the backs of your legs as he stepped behind you. 

 “Promise me somethin’, alright?” He leaned in, burying his nose in your hair. “Promise me that when we check in - before we eat, before we go see Ginny, you’ll…” He gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into your flesh and urged your them back and into his. “You’ll give me a few minutes of your time.” You groaned, moaning his name out quietly, elongating both syllables. 

 “I’d give you all of ‘em, Ry.” You turned to face him, clothing forgotten. “Every single one.” Good.  You both went silent, staring at each other, and then you rose onto your toes, your arms going around his neck. “I love you, Ryan.” You swallowed, his grip on your waist tightening. “So much. I don’t say it as often as I want to, because I don’t want -”

 “No.” He shook his head, ducking it down to meet yours. “You tell me. You tell me whenever you want, because…” He kissed you, but wasn’t trying to start anything; he just wanted the feel of your lips against his. “Because I know you mean it, an’...” He kissed you again. “An’ I’ll never get sick of hearin’ it.” You nodded but didn’t say anything, and Ryan closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. “We gotta get dressed, we need to get on the road, we…” You pulled your arms from around him and turned, again grabbing the stack of clothes and making your way to the master bathroom. 

 “I’ll meet you by the door in five minutes.” 

--- 

 You’d pulled out of the driveway at 5:36 am, only a few minutes after your initially planned time, and as Ryan watched the trailer fade from view, keys shut into the lockbox hanging on the back door, he grinned. That’s house number four. Little over a  year and I’ve helped to flip four houses. It wasn’t what he wanted to do with his life, but he had to admit that the money that he’d made from each of the renovations was more than he’d expected, giving him a safety net at the very least, and the comfort of knowing that no matter where he went - with you permanently or on his own briefly - he wouldn’t have to worry about eating or finding a place to sleep. That had been the biggest struggle for him, he realized as he gave you his order under the bright lights of the drive thru menu. He’d never seen himself as poor, but Ryan had lived hand to mouth for most of his adult life, relying on the kindness of strangers and the occasional splurge on a motel room with a larger group, but he’d never been well off, either. Not like her.

 He took the bag of food from you and unwrapped your sandwich partially, handing it back to you. “Thanks, Ry.” You both chewed thoughtfully as you turned onto US-160, and Ryan’s eyes moved over the landscape from under the brim of his hat, everything still mostly hidden by darkness. 

 You’d never made him feel like his financial status mattered much to you. Even when he hadn’t known how well off you were, Ryan simply assumed that you were like most people your age - a decent job, vacation time, spending a few days in Las Vegas with your friends, and enjoying the city. You’d talked about money with him the second night over your shared meal, Ryan casually admitting that he normally wouldn’t have been able to afford the room or the food you offered to him - but you’d ignored it, choosing instead to focus on him instead of digging into it further and questioning him. That’s not how it is anymore. He finished his first sandwich, balling up the wrapper and putting it back in the bag before pulling out hash browns, reaching over to pop a piece of one into your mouth so that you didn’t have to pull your hands from the wheel. I’m still not rich, but I don’t need to be. I just need… He took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. “The last time I was goin’ this way to Utah, I…” Ryan swallowed, surprised at his words. “It was even colder than this, an’ I was in an open train car.” 

 “Yeah?” You glanced over at him, smiling. “You don’t talk about that much, when you came to Utah for the first time.”

 “Wasn’t the first time, though.” He finished the potato, offering you one of your own but you shook your head. “Went to Salt Lake City for a couple days with Ginny and Cowboy a couple years before I ended up in Ogden, but I never made it that far north.” He settled back into the seat, eyes on the road in front of you. “But never in winter before, so it was a surprise, kind of, an’ I wasn’t… it was freezing.” You laughed, and Ryan continued to talk, filling the next hour and a half with a few stories about the ride up from Albuquerque, and by the time the sky was fully light and you were passing Monticello, you were both settled in. I have to say it.  “There are things I wanna show you in Ogden, things… things I think you’ll like.” 

 The sun was bright in the sky, so Ryan didn’t miss the slight frown on your face. “Things you did with -” You were being unusually forward with your unease, letting it come through in your tone, and though Ryan appreciated it, he was unhappy that he was the cause of your conflicted feelings. “It -”

 “Yes.” He swallowed, shifting in his seat to look at you. “Some of ‘em. It’s a small town, so there’s… there’s only so much that people can…” He trailed off, waiting. “It’s a little like Durango, but the mountains are… they look different.” He reached out, putting a hand on your knee. “Ski resorts close by, so there’s lots of people there, tryin’ to get the last few days of the season in.” He thought back to his final few weeks in the city, taking a deep breath. “But the town itself, you… you’ll like downtown, you’ll like Union Station.” He grinned. “There’s a train museum in there.” You laughed at that, turning your head to look at him briefly. 

“Oh yeah?” He nodded. “Bet you enjoyed that.” I did. “I looked into it, Ry, when you asked me to come with you?” He heard the change in your voice again, but this one was hopeful instead of apprehensive. “There’s some sort of… dinosaur museum?” Ryan frowned slightly, thinking. “It’s not in the city, but I thought, maybe… I don’t know, Henry might like it, if he hasn’t been?” He felt his heart flood with warmth for you, his jaw dropping slightly. “What?”

 “You looked up something to do with Henry?” Ryan sucked in a breath, free hand pulling the hat off and tossing it onto the dashboard of your car before he ran his fingers nervously through his hair. “Why -”

 “Because, Ry.” You glanced down, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “It’s something for the three of you to do, so that you can…” You trailed off again. “I’m not going to hover, Ryan. I’m not going to follow you to their place or sit and just… be there the whole time while you guys catch up. I don’t need to be, because this isn’t about me, Ryan, it’s about you guys, and your memories, and I don’t want to intrude.” 

 “You don’t have to -” 

 “No.” You sighed, eyes still on the road from behind your sunglasses. “I do.” He watched as you bit your lip. “You left pretty quick after the… after the funeral, right? Day or so later, you went to Portland?” He nodded. “And then when you went back, you were… focused on your own life.” You were right. He’d seen Ginny and Henry a few times after returning to Utah, but she’d been so distraught over the loss of Cowboy that they’d been short visits, the woman so distracted and distant that Ryan had stopped trying as often, preferring to send messages instead of calling or stopping over while he focused on his crumbling relationship with Jackie. “You guys need time. You need privacy, and you need something that’s just for the three of you, and that’s perfect.” 

 “Is it?” You nodded again, shoulders set, and Ryan couldn’t help smiling, eyes closing briefly as he looked down. 

 “Yeah, what four year old doesn’t wanna run around with dinosaurs all day?” Both of you laughed and Ryan’s attention was drawn by your removal of your glasses, turning your head so that you could look at him. “But really, you guys will have a day to yourselves, and I’ll just… I donno, walk around and take pictures, find a cafe or something. It’s fine, I’m used to being in cities like this alone, it’s no different.” You returned your gaze to the road, going quiet. 

 “You’re wrong,” he replied after a few seconds, finding his words. “You’re not alone this time, even if we spend the day apart.” 

---

Thank you for reading!

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[izzy-b-hands]

Stranded

Was trying to write a different Sledgefu fic, then this one happened. I am also discovering I may have a small obsession with writing them traveling, or wanting to travel-I’m a sucker for road trips lol. 

Also there’s a real cute bit in here that I admit I’m proud of. I think you guys will know it when you see it, and I hope you guys like it too.

Love to all who read/like/reblog!

It was bound to happen at some point. Ever since they’d moved out, Eugene had been expecting it. The car wasn’t horribly old, but it certainly wasn’t new either. 

“Fuckin’ car,” Snafu sighed. “...I don’t mean that. If I had a few more things, I could fix her up right here, and we’d be on our way.” 

“I know. But we can’t get her home to be fixed if we don’t head out now,” Eugene said. The car had broken down at the worst possible point in the journey between their house and town; it was a long walk either way, along back roads. And it would be dark soon. But that was on them for staying so late at Sid and Mary’s. 

“Wish I had a way to call the shop. Could make sure someone would be there by the time we get in, to help us come back out here and tow her home,” Snafu muttered, a hand gently running over one of the car’s door handles as he walked over to Eugene. “I really don’t like leavin’ her out here all on her own.” 

“Me neither, but she’ll be okay. She’s a tough old gal,” Eugene smiled. 

Snafu didn’t smile back. Instead, he looked about ready to cry. 

“Come on. We’ll walk fast as we can,” Eugene tried again, gently taking Snafu’s other hand and pulling him along as he turned them down the road back towards town. 

They walked in silence at first, but it itched at Eugene not to talk. Not to say something when Snafu was so clearly upset. 

“You’ll get her fixed up again. Maybe we just need to start carryin’ more tools in the car with us; we could do that,” Eugene started. 

Snafu nodded, but he wouldn’t turn his head to look at him. 

“Hey,” Eugene continued. “Talk to me. Where are you?” 

“Just...disappointed,” Snafu sighed. “I was thinkin’ about another trip. Sid and Mary could check in on the kids for us while we were gone; it wouldn’t be a long trip away. But if the car can’t make it down the damn road anymore, then...” 

“Where to?” 

Snafu shook his head. “Doesn’t matter anymore, not gonna happen.” 

“Where?” Eugene asked again, coming to a halt, squeezing Snafu’s hand just tight enough that he had no choice but to stop as well. 

“New Orleans. Not to do like we did last time, in the city. But near the swamps. Used to know some folks who’d rent out their houses near there. Nothin’ big or fancy, mind, more like cabins. But you could get away from everythin’ out there. Thought it might be nice, just for a bit. Some time away, just you and me and nothin’ to do but wander out in the country. I know we can do that here, but...” 

Eugene nodded. “When?” 

“The hell you mean, ‘when’?” Snafu snorted derisively. “The car barely wants to make it in and out of town. New Orleans is a good, what, two or three hours away, if we wouldn’t stop anywhere? Doesn’t matter if I want us to go now or not, the car won’t-” 

“Summer or winter?” Eugene interrupted. 

“I...maybe winter? Not like it gets real cold, and probably not as many people out there. Figure folks at work won’t be jumpin’ to take vacations, so if we ask for a week or two away it won’t be so bad,” Snafu replied. 

“Okay. Maybe...early December?” 

Snafu stared. “You gonna have us walk all the way there?” 

“You can fix the car up so she can make it. I know you can,” Eugene replied, pulling on Snafu’s hand gently again as he started them back down the road. 

“You really wanna go? Most people wouldn’t jump at the opportunity,” Snafu said. “Most everybody wants the city and the bars and all the noise. That’s all fine and good sometimes, but there’s somethin’ about bein’ away from it too...” 

“I get it. Same reason Sid and I used to wander out here all the time. In the fields, just us, for hours. To be away from everythin’ and everyone. I wanna see what that was like for you, out there.” 

The silence rolled back in again, but it was warm this time, a soft smile on Snafu’s face now. 

The dark covered them, and Eugene pulled out his lighter. It wasn’t much, and barely made a difference, but at least it kept them from walking into the ditch. 

Until it burned out. 

“Well, fuck,” Eugene sighed, and he put the lighter back in his pocket. “That was gonna keep us from gettin’ hit by a car, if anyone should come down this way. Guess we’ll just have to listen, and move fast if we hear anythin’.” 

“We’ll be okay,” Snafu said, but he didn’t resist when Eugene carefully edged them towards the side of the road, not quite in the ditch, but close enough to fall into it if they needed to avoid a car. 

Finally, the few streetlights came into view, and it was a weight off of Eugene’s shoulders. There was still the walk to the shop, the call to the shop owner to bring his tow truck, and then getting back to the car to haul her home. But at least now they had far less chance of being hit by a car. 

In the shop, sat at the counter, he let Snafu lead the rest of the rescue effort for their car. By some blessing, the shop owner woke up right away at Snafu’s phone call, and agreed to run down to help them. 

“He said about fifteen minutes,” Snafu sighed as he hung up the phone. “Gives us time to talk more about this vacation of ours.” 

“You excited?” Eugene asked, already knowing the answer. But he could tell Snafu was itching to talk about it more, to show how happy it made him. 

Snafu nodded. “We should put in for leave time now. I’m gonna. Hell, I’m here, why not write it up now?” 

Eugene smiled as he watched him dart into the garage part of the shop, all hopped up on his excitement and happiness. The sight of him returning with a toolbox was confusing, however. 

“You keep paper and pencil with you in this thing?” Eugene asked as he watched Snafu rummage through it, letting his fingers run over the letters of Snafu’s name that had been painted onto one side of the box. 

“Just in case,” Snafu replied, moving to another part of the counter as he started to write out his leave request.  

He rifled through the toolbox while Snafu’s pencil scratched. Most of it was what he expected, various tools covered in oil and who knew what else. But one thing was unexpected. 

“What’s this?” 

Snafu’s eyes went wide as Eugene pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Nothin’. What’re you lookin’ for in there anyway?” 

“Just snoopin’,” Eugene replied as he spun off of his chair and dodged Snafu’s hand, reaching to grab him or the papers. As he read, he grinned. “You been writin’ about me?” 

“Put those back,” Snafu said weakly.

“You embarrassed? Don’t be,” Eugene laughed. “These are good, and I’m not just sayin’ that ‘cause they’re about me, I promise.” 

“...you like them?” 

Eugene nodded. “I do. Never seen you write, not like this, at least. How long have you been doin’ this?” 

Snafu shuffled his feet, and stared at the floor for a moment, before taking a breath and meeting his eyes again. “Y’know back on Peleliu, when I gave you shit about writin’ stuff down?” 

“They did tell us to avoid it, worried about information bein’ stolen and all that,” Eugene replied. He’d just figured the Japanese troops wouldn’t give half a shit about whatever he’d written, so he hadn’t given a shit himself about the warnings. 

“I mean, it was partially that. But I didn’t want you findin’ this,” Snafu sighed, and reached into another part of the metal toolbox. He pulled a small notebook out, so small Eugene figured it’d be a pain to even try and write in, and tossed it to him. “Started it after the first week you joined up with us. Hadn’t ever written anythin’ like that about anyone else before then. Didn’t think I’d ever be the type.” 

Eugene returned to the chair, and set the other papers down as he opened the notebook and started to read. 

Pages upon pages of poems and free-flowing passages, all about him. About how he made Snafu feel, how that in turn made Snafu feel about the war and the rest of the fighting with Eugene by his side. One set of lines in particular was the one that broke him, that made the tears fall: 

‘I think so long as Sledgehammer stays with me, the war will be worth winning. Worth surviving. I only wish I could find a way to keep him with me after. I don’t know what life after him, without him, looks like. And I don’t want to know.’

“Why didn’t you show me this sooner?” Eugene asked, wiping away a tear. “Snafu, my god-” 

Snafu was around the counter in a flash, holding him close and kissing him hard, cutting off the rest of his words.

“I didn’t show you because...I don’t know. I got so used to tryin’ to keep it a secret, back over there. And then I figured, I don’t know, that somehow it would be strange,” Snafu murmured as after the kiss broke. “Especially seein’ that I was writin’ about you from Day One.” 

“It isn’t strange,” Eugene choked out, laughing despite the tears. “It’s sweet, and beautiful, and the kindest thing I think anyone’s ever done for me. No one ever thinks someone’s gonna write about them like this, y’know? So I just...I love you so much.” 

The sound of the garage opening and the tow truck pulling up outside broke them apart, but not before Snafu leaned in for another quick kiss, and a soft “Love you too” as he grabbed the rest of the papers and shoved them into his hands. 

He kept them folded, hidden in his trouser pockets with the notebook while Snafu’s boss drove them back to the car, loaded it up, and then took them back home. 

As soon as they were home, he read them again though, safe in bed with Snafu’s arm wrapped around him, his head resting against his chest. 

He wondered what Snafu might write about him during their trip to New Orleans, and realized he couldn’t wait to read it.