#one of them is admittedly MASH

[kindlythevoid]

Rewatched The Proposal the other day and have now added it to my list of rom-coms I need to adapt for Rexsoka.

(They are sorely behind in rom-com adaptations on Ao3)

This brings the list up to 11.

I have not written any of them yet.

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Two

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake's masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine's masterlist

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the other pics and gifs.

“Uhhnnn, fuck...baby I’m comin’...”

Angelo’s deep, rough voice broke as he yanked a little too hard on Ivy’s hair, causing her to wince from the sharp pain. He thrust inside her just as hard a few more times before his body seized up, his pelvis mashed against her backside to make her feel him pulsing inside her as he came. Not for the first time, she was thankful condoms were a thing and she always insisted that he had one on him before he touched her; there was no doubt he would get her pregnant the next chance he got with the aim of tethering himself even deeper into her life. It was apparent in the desperation with which his admittedly above-average dick dug all up in her pussy every time they got together. On the bright side, his efforts got the job done…Well, that, along with the frantic circling of her fingers around her clit that never failed to drag her to a long-awaited nut that currently had her moaning noisily into her bamboo sheets. Thank goodness her daughter was a long way down the hallway, fast asleep in her four-poster bed, oblivious to the late night goings-on of her dysfunctional parents.

She hissed with relief when Angelo finally released his vice grip, flopping onto his back, his sweat-slick chest heaving up and down. The same old routine followed, with him lazily and unwisely reaching out for a cuddle, prompting her standard rebuff of rolling away from him. She waited patiently for the gradual shift in his breathing, from heavy to relaxed, signaling that he was out like a light. Glancing over to confirm, she rolled her eyes with a huff. This dude left the condom on. Again. Even in his sleep, he was making her clean up after him. Exhaling heavily, she reached over to carefully slide the thin latex off his dick and tie it up in a knot, climbing out of the bed to dump it in the trash can nearby. 

The lights illuminating the paved streets outside her home seeped through her bedroom windows, shedding more light than was necessary considering it was deep into the night. She padded over to the window to draw down the roller blinds, making a mental reminder to herself to keep them closed more often now that the house across was occupied. Her fingers wavered when she noticed that the lights of his bedroom were still on. It piqued her curiosity as to what would be keeping him awake at this late hour. Work, perhaps?

And then, almost on cue, the hulking figure of her new neighbor came into view, and her breath caught.

Roman stepped out of what was probably his bathroom, his towel hanging dangerously low around his waist. His hair was down, long, silky and clearly wet, the droplets of water glistening against his bare chest. He was walking around the room, seemingly acquainting himself with the new space. Ivy was on the money with the athletic physique, unable to take her eyes off his bulging muscles, the ridges of his abs, and the intricate tribal tattoos adorning his right arm, pec and half of his back that only embellished the majesty and beauty of this stranger. Standing there like the voyeur she’d become, she allowed her mind to wander, to wonder what those taut, rippling muscles would feel like pressed against her nakedness, his long hair fanning her face as his big body pinned her down…his voice, deep and rough and needy in her ear, talking her through her pleasure…

So entranced was she in her fantasy that she didn’t realize he had pivoted in her direction, fully facing the window, until it was almost too late. Her eyes widened as his hands slid south, unraveling the towel from his waist…

Gasping in alarm, she quickly turned away, fumbling with the blinds to snatch them shut. She leaned against the wall, her cheeks blazing, hand on her hammering heart as it dawned on her that she’d almost seen him naked.

And yet, as scandalized as she was, a small part of her wished she did. 

Damn.

Willing away the disappointment and the stirring in her loins, she dragged herself back to bed, hoping she would get some sleep.

Morning arrived too quickly for her liking, and she was up too early considering it was her day off, with her next shift not until tomorrow. Untangling herself carefully from Angelo’s clingy grasp, she rolled onto her side and checked the time on her phone charging on her nightstand. Seven a.m. was a decent hour to take Duchess out for a morning walk and be back home in time for Zaia to be out of bed so they could make red velvet pancakes together, assuming she wouldn’t be glued to her father’s side like she liked to be. 

Climbing out of bed carefully so as not to wake Angelo and kick off her day on a sour note, she threw on a forest-green sports bra and matching leggings from Actively Black, along with a pair of Nike sneakers, and wrapped up her hair in a bun on top of her head. Grabbing her phone and headphones, she stopped by Zaia’s room to check on her. As expected, her baby was sound asleep, buried beneath her Disney Princesses duvet. Ivy would have woken her up to join her but she wanted her to rest; she’d worked so hard all week in school and with her chores and therefore earned this Saturday morning lie-in. 

Laying by Zaia’s bedside, Duchess’ head snapped up when the door opened. She bolted across the room towards Ivy, her tail wagging excitedly, bouncing on her hind legs and pawing at her mama’s shins.

"Hi, girl! You awake? You’re a good girl, yes, you are!" Ivy cooed softly, shutting the bedroom door quietly before lifting Duchess in her arms to be attacked with excited licks and doggy breath. "Come on, let’s go for a walk." Grabbing her leash, harness and a water bottle, she headed downstairs and out the door. 

The route was a simple one, the expanse of tarred road sandwiched between rows of houses of various sizes and styles leading down a winding path to the public park. The weather was perfect, the fresh air sweeping over Ivy's face with a calming, peaceful feeling that was a stark contrast from the controlled chaos of her life. She let Duchess lead the way, the little dog stopping every now and then to sniff a tree or bark at an innocent squirrel. Another sharp turn round the bend brought them to the entrance of the dog park. Lowering her headphones around her neck, Ivy settled down on a nearby bench, watching Duchess run towards the puppy playground. It was relatively empty with just two other owners and their equally small dogs, but she was sure she’d leave once it became crowded. To pass the time, she scrolled through her unread emails, responding to the urgent ones while keeping a watchful eye on Duchess. A flash of movement to her left caught her attention, and looking up, her heart raced in her chest.

Slowing down to a stop on the pedestrian path, dusting his knees off, was Roman. Even with a beanie and a hoodie covering his head, there was no mistaking his striking features; the prominent cheekbones, the sharp jawline framed by his thick beard. His long-sleeved Nike shirt clung to his upper body, straining the fabric’s futile attempt to contain the burgeoning muscles underneath. Ivy found herself taking a swig of her water due to the heat that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

She shouldn’t have disturbed him. She should have let him go about his day - but her mouth and hand moved faster than her brain, waving from her seat, “Hey Roman!” She watched him glance around in search of her voice, a hint of apprehension on his handsome face before his eyes landed on her. His tight frown bloomed into a bright smile that sparked a sensation similar to the one last night when she was ‘spying’ on him. The way he walked exuded confidence and power, commanding the space around him, as she noticed, to her chagrin, other women doing double takes as he passed by them. 

"Wassup, neighbor? This seat taken?" he asked.

"Not at all,” she answered, a little too eagerly as he settled down on the opposite side of her bench, keeping a respectable gap between them which allowed her to gawk…respectfully. His dri-fit shorts accentuated the thickness of his thigh muscles that flexed when he shifted, inadvertently drawing her eyes there. She’d seen a lot of him last night and internally she craved more, craved to see exactly what lay underneath. The sunlight enriched his caramel skin, the light sheen of sweat giving him a vibrant glow. Ivy swallowed hard, willing herself to remain composed. “How’s your morning going?” she asked.

“Great, now that I’m talkin’ to you,” Roman smiled at her, leaning back in his seat to admire her in her sports bra and high-waist tights, her afro curls piled high on top of her head. “You look really nice.”

The blush threatened to burn her cheeks as she tugged shyly at her top. “Thanks. It’s just sportswear though.”

“Maybe, but that don’t change what I said,” he insisted, his deep brown eyes deliberately scanning her body. A shiver swept up her spine at the growing intensity as he looked at her. Flustered, she played it off by looking around for Duchess who happened to be just a foot away, racing two other dogs around the canine condo.

“I see you came alone,” Roman observed, “Your little girl alright?”

“She’s good. Sleeping in. She’s been a busy bee all week so she’s earned the rest. We’re gonna make pancakes when I get back.”

“Hmm, sounds delicious. I heard you call her Zaia? Am I right?”

“Correct. It means ‘precious’ in Arabic.” A fond smile fell over her features at the thought of her bright, beautiful little six-year old angel.

Roman nodded, digesting the information. “It's a great name. Pretty, just like her mama’s.” 

Ivy looked away, her grin now bashful. “Here you go again with the compliments.”

“We still on that, huh? You do owe me a couple yourself,” Roman replied with a cute smirk that made her warm all over. “I’m still working on it, tryna find the right time,” she joked.

“Any time is a good time for a compliment.” His smile faltered, his cheery tone hardening slightly, “Unless you’re worried about the boyfriend. He still bein’ a headache?” 

Ivy scoffed. She’d almost forgotten about him. Almost. “He's not my boyfriend. We share a child, that’s it.”

“Oh? He made it pretty clear when he was all over you and then tried to jump me.”

She almost laughed at that. One look at Roman quickly erased any scenario where he could be jumped. “About that…I’m really sorry…he can be a little…assertive sometimes,” she began.

But Roman shook his head, his nose turned up. “Don’t apologize for him. He might be your kid’s father but you’re not responsible for his foolishness.”

Most times he didn’t give her a choice in the matter, forced to deal with the mess afterwards. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” she sighed.

“That’s my point. There shouldn’t be a next time,” he replied, staring into her eyes, the sincerity radiating from them unnerving her a little. Her issues with Angelo was the last thing she wanted to talk about, especially with a relative stranger. Thankfully she was given a way out as the playground started to fill up with more people. “Well, I’ve been out long enough. It’s time I headed home,” she announced, getting to her feet. “Duchess! Come here, girl!”

"Cute little puppy. How long have you had her for?" Roman enquired, watching her hook the leash and harness around the puppy.

"About three months. She was Zaia’s birthday present from my friend Gemini. She’ll be eight months old next week. She and Zaia keep me fit with their combined energy," Ivy explained with a laugh, going quiet for a moment. “What happened to your hand, by the way?” She nodded at the white crepe bandage wrapped around his left hand that was peeking through his sleeve. 

Glancing down, he cleared his throat and shifted his hand out of view, seemingly embarrassed by his injury. “Oh. Knife wound. I was meal prepping and accidentally sliced my palm. A little bit of bleeding but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Wow, that must have hurt. I can take a look at it if you want, make sure it’s-”

Roman smiled and waved away her concern. “I know that’s your nurse instincts poppin’ out, but I’m fine. Don’t worry your pretty little self. But who knows? Maybe somewhere down the road I might need you for…other things,” he finished with a sly wink.

The lowered bass of his voice had Ivy biting her lip at the blatant innuendo, not missing the way his eyes flickered to her mouth. She grinned sheepishly and shook her head, tugging gently on Duchess’ leash. “Alright then, I’ll leave you to your workout…”

“I’m done, actually, and I’m about to head home. I can drop you off too, if you'd like. I drove here,” Roman offered.

For a split second, she imagined Angelo’s reaction to her pulling up in another man’s car. But the visual was gone as quickly as it surfaced. It was none of his business. “Sure.” 

As they approached the parking lot, her eyes widened as he remotely unlocked the doors to a shiny, sleek black Maserati GranCabrio. “Is that yours? Oh, you ballin’, ballin’,” she remarked, noting the blush creep up his cheeks as he opened the passenger’s door for her. “I do alright,” he mumbled.

“Wow. What do you do? I don’t think I’ve asked.” 

“I’m a Senior Finance Manager at an accounting firm downtown,” he answered, starting the car and letting the top down. “But I also freelance for private individuals, angel investors, pro and college athletes. I mainly work remotely, so you’ll be seeing me at home often.”

Ivy settled in her seat, awed by the lush beige color of the interior, feeling slightly intimidated being inside such an expensive car. “Well, they’re treating you real well,” she said. 

“They’d better, I work my ass off for ‘em,” Roman chortled, backing out of the parking lot. 

Conversation flowed easily on the drive home. Ivy did her best to keep her eyes on the road, but she couldn’t resist taking the occasional peek at Roman while they chatted. She noticed he was doing the same, sprouting more butterflies in her belly. As they pulled up to their street, he killed the engine next to his sidewalk. A tentative silence fell between them that would probably have been suffocating if it weren’t for Duchess’ routine panting. Ivy dared another glance at the big man, the feeling in her stomach intensifying as those gorgeous eyes of his lingered on her again.

“Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it,” she whispered, gathering Duchess in her arms.

Roman smiled. “Not a problem. Tell Zaia I said hi.”

“I will.” Another long look, another grateful grin before she stepped out of the car and crossed the street towards her front door, fully aware that his gaze was still on her, fully aware that she liked his gaze on her. A lot.

However, a deep frown replaced her giddy smile when the door swung open, Angelo standing there, his face like thunder. The darkening of his light eyes as he glanced over her shoulder and the sound of the Maserati’s door slamming shut told her the two men had locked metaphorical horns, the tension pulsing from both sides.

“What the fuck! I know I ain’t just seen you come out of his car,” Angelo hissed.

“Wassup, man. Ivy, you good?” Roman called out behind her. Stoking the fire.

Quick to douse it before it raged, Ivy threw a smile his way. “I’m fine! Thanks again!” Not waiting for a reply, she ushered Angelo back into the house and set Duchess on her feet, the puppy immediately dashing away in search of Zaia. “If you must know, I ran into him at the park and he offered to bring me home,” she explained, entering the kitchen. “I had to apologize to him for that disrespectful crap you pulled yesterday. I get along with all my neighbors and you’re not about to fuck that up for me.”

“Get along, huh? Zaia coulda seen you. How you think that’s gonna look, her mama joyriding with some other dude, huh?” Angelo demanded, his eyes narrowed accusingly.

Incensed, Ivy spun around, glared at him. “Are you using my daughter to gaslight me, Angelo? Seriously?”

“Our daughter, Ivy! You out here lookin’ like a thot and for what? Is that the example you wanna set for our kid? Where’s your sense of self-respect?”

Clearly, the audacity of the man she called her daughter’s father knew no bounds. “Respect?! Like the respect you showed me when you cheated on me?” Ivy countered, crossing her arms, fire in her eyes. “When you only came crawling back because that bitch dumped your slow ass and left for California? When you refused to be in ‘your kid’s’ life until you had a DNA test done, despite your dumbass knowing you’re the only one I was with? Refresh my memory, Angelo!” 

Silence. Deafening. Tense. Truth.

Angelo shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke, his tone low and exasperated. “Why you keep doin’ this shit, Ivy? How many times do I gotta apologize for that?”

“I don’t want your apology. I don’t need it,” she snapped. “You lost my trust a long time ago and nothing you say or do will ever change that. Period.” She trailed off, focusing on the clock on the wall like she’d learned to rein in her emotions. It was only eight o’clock and she had a headache already. Rinse and repeat. “Don’t you got some conference to be at?” she threw at him, eager for him to be out of her face.

Bristling at her harsh dismissal, Angelo sucked his teeth, snatching his belongings off the countertop. “Ol’ meathead ass gives you some attention and now you got a fucking attitude.” His sigh was heavy and dramatic as he finally, thankfully walked away. Her eyes closed with a sigh of her own, the familiar gnawing in her chest surfacing as she overheard her daughter’s sniffles from the living room pleading with her daddy not to go, him soothing her and promising that he would be back soon. Her heart broke for Zaia, but selfishly, she was glad he was out of her space, even going as far as to wish, yet again, that he could take it one step further and be out of her life, too.

A crime documentary come to life. 

The news reporter stood in the neck of the woods, under the shaded protection of a few giant sequoias and a couple of smaller deciduous trees, a short distance away from a clearing that was cordoned off with caution tape guarded by several uniformed cops. In the background, a body bag was being loaded onto a gurney. The face of the victim splashed across the screen made Ivy’s blood run cold.

She’d seen the young woman, Rhea, just three days ago at the hospital. They didn’t interact, but she was hard to forget with her pale skin, numerous tattoos and goth clothing that stood her out from all the other patients at the Gynecology ward. Never did Ivy imagine she’d be dead just days later. Murdered. The news said she had been reported missing yesterday and was found by a jogger, bound and gagged with her throat slit from ear to ear. The woods were close to the dog park, so to know that such a horrific crime was committed so nearby, while she was out there just this morning with Duchess, sent chills down her spine.

“I’m still in shock,” she confided in her best friend Gemini over FaceTime, adjusting her iPad on her kitchen island. “I remember seeing her in the hospital earlier this week. She was so young, barely in her twenties. Who could have done that to her?”

“That’s what everyone’s trying to figure out,” Gemini said, her expression grim as she lounged on her patio. “I spoke to Officer Gable. He says she was killed in her home then her body was dumped in the woods either last night or early this morning.” She dropped another bombshell. “And get this…this hasn’t been made public yet, but they also found a positive pregnancy test in her backpack.”

Ivy clapped a hand over her mouth, floored. That poor girl was pregnant?! “Oh my god.”  

“I know, it’s wild. They’re looking for her boyfriend, Dominik. Apparently he’s outta town but they’re ruling him as the prime suspect,” Gemini went on, “If you ask me, I think there might be a serial killer on the loose. She’s not the only one that’s turned up dead in the last few months in the surrounding counties.”

If it weren’t for the severity of the situation, Ivy would have rolled her eyes. “What? Gem, don’t start with all that again.”

“Girl, you haven’t been following this like I have. Similar cases happened in the last three months in Fairfield and Middlesex. A couple of twenty-something year old women. Throats slit, dumped in ditches and bushes. The M.O.’s are all the same.”

Casting a quick glance over at the living room where Zaia was dancing with Duchess to ‘The Veggie Dance’ by Gracie’s Corner, Ivy shifted to a quieter side of the kitchen to prevent her baby from overhearing this gruesome conversation. “Well, let’s not jump to conclusions when the police don’t even have all the facts. What does the group think about this?” she asked, referring to the local Neighborhood Watch of which Gemini was a member. In the three years she had lived here, they had only dealt with vandalism and break-ins. To her knowledge, nothing this violent had ever occurred in this harmless, almost sleepy little town, and it spooked Ivy that it happened so close to home.

“We’re having a meeting tomorrow to update everyone and address safety concerns we know will be brought up. Make sure no one’s panicking unnecessarily.” Gemini chuckled at the trepidation on her friend’s face. “Girl, relax. Zaia, Duchess and I will protect you.” There was a brief pause as she stood up from her lounge chair and walked around her backyard pool. “Want me to come over later? I haven’t seen my two babies in a while.”

Enticed by the thought of having company that wasn’t Angelo, Ivy happily replied, “Of course, babe, you never have to ask. How about dinner tonight?” 

“You know I could never say no to your cooking.” Gemini wrinkled her nose. “But if that bitch baby daddy of yours is still lurkin’ then I’ll pass.”

“Nope. He’s away for the weekend,” Ivy assured her.

“When will I hear he’s away for good?” Gemini prodded, her words drawing a sigh of defeat from Ivy. It said a lot that none of her friends got along with Angelo. If she had a dime for every time Gemini warned her to get rid of him, she’d be living in the Hamptons instead. But she understood that she was only looking out for her and she would always appreciate it and reciprocate accordingly.

Beautiful, wisecracking and often cynical, Gemini was a successful, high-powered corporate lawyer with a love for fashion trends and (Ivy called this an obsession) crime and mystery shows that fed into her crazy, oft-amusing conspiracy theories. Like Ivy, she often had it tough with relationships, swearing off men every couple of months. It didn’t help that suitors were usually intimidated by her financial status and her brash, blunt nature. But all of that also came with a heart of gold. Ivy would never forget her hospitality, being the first to welcome her and Zaia with open arms when she first arrived in town. Helping her secure the mortgage on her house. Taking Zaia to the local dog shelter on her birthday and pairing her little girl with the most loyal companion she would probably ever have. She was the life of the party everywhere she went, including Ivy’s household, as she sauntered through her doorstep later that evening with a big bottle of Pinot Noir and an even bigger hug for her favorite niece. The wine was very welcome, as Ivy was forced to abstain around Angelo who was a recovering alcoholic. 

Together, the women moved the food to the dining table, with little Zaia playing her role as the dutiful assistant to her mama and aunt and filling up Duchess’ food and water bowls. As they settled down to eat, a knock on the front door startled them, their heads whipping in its direction. Gemini exchanged a look with Ivy. “Expecting someone else?” 

“No…” With a heightened sense of caution, Ivy crept towards the door and opened it, surprised to see Roman standing behind it. “Hey,” she greeted, a hint of concern in her tone. “What’s up? Everything alright?”

“Hi…wow,” His greeting was distracted, rendered temporarily speechless as he took in her sweater minidress that clung to her generous curves. “Uh…sorry if this is a bad time, but I was wondering if I can borrow some sugar? I’m trying to bake cookies for my office party in the morning and I haven’t got time to run to the store.” Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, he continued, “I know it’s cliche as hell, but I thought I’d come over and ask since your cooking smells so delicious.” 

Corny request or not, it was way too charming to turn down. Not that she would. “Mr. Compliments does it again. Come on in.” She motioned for him to follow her inside and into the warm, homey atmosphere of her kitchen. His eyes glossed over the spread of food on the table, then fell upon the two other sets of eyes staring back at him, one innocent, the other suspicious. “I see I’ve interrupted dinner, sorry about that, ladies,” he said, a demure, friendly smile gracing his lips as he waved.

Gemini got to her feet, almost burning a hole through this stranger with her sharp gaze. “Ivy, who is this?” she demanded with an attitude, making Ivy shake her head behind Roman’s back. Her friend always had a hard time warming up to new people.

“Gem, this is Roman, my new neighbor. He moved across the street a couple of days ago. Roman, this is my friend Gemini,” she introduced them, watching Roman extend his hand, the other woman hesitating for a long beat before shaking it. “Hi, Gemini. Nice to meet you.”

Gemini gave him a tight smile. “Hi. So you’re the one who got that big ass house.”

Well, that went as well as it could have.

“Zaia, wanna say hello to Mr Roman?” Ivy encouraged her daughter. The little girl cocked her head to the side, and Roman noticed how much she resembled Ivy at that moment. “Hello, Mr Roman. You’re really tall,” she pointed out, her eyes filled with awe. 

“Thank you Zaia, I get that a lot,” he laughed, crouching down to pet Duchess who had bounded over happily, recognizing him from earlier this morning. Ivy rummaged through her walnut kitchen cabinets looking for the bag of sugar she had purchased a month or two ago. Locating it, she handed it to Roman along with a small-sized cookbook. “Here. You can use as much as you need. And I earmarked the page for the recipe for chocolate chip cookies, in case you need it.”

“You are so kind. I appreciate that,” said Roman, his deep brown eyes shifting downwards shyly. The subtle action did something to her, compelling her to utter next,

“Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re having Cajun chicken pasta and Caesar salad,” she spoke up, ignoring the look Gemini leveled at her. It was the way his eyes softened right away, clearly touched by her gesture, that let her know she did the right thing.

“I’d love to.” His smile lit up the room, warming Ivy’s heart. This was her house. She could invite anyone she wanted. Attraction aside, Roman seemed like a really sweet guy that just needed new friends in this new town.

In no time though, he and Zaia became fast friends, discussing everything from their favorite cartoons and hobbies to their favorite subjects at school, and the rather funnier topic of why the adults could have wine and she couldn’t. Even Gemini seemed to warm up to him over the course of dinner, also seduced by his charm and wit. Watching them all talking and laughing caused a funny sensation to stir within Ivy, but she banished any wayward thoughts before they had the chance to settle. 

Afterwards, Roman began to gather dishes and stand, prompting Ivy to rush over before he could move too far. “Er, no booboo. You’re a guest here.” She turned to her daughter. "Baby, why don't you take your fruit salads to the living room and turn on the TV for Mr Roman?” she suggested.

“Yes, ma’am! Come on, Mr Roman.” Zaia’s little fingers closed around his thick forearm, Roman briefly glancing back at her mother as he was all but dragged away, Ivy simply giving him a reassuring smile as they disappeared from the kitchen.

“You like him.” 

Never one to beat around the bush, was she? Gemini’s words shook Ivy inwardly as she fought to maintain a poker face. “Girl, we’ve only known each other for a couple of days.”

“And he likes you,” Gemini continued, easily rebuffing her lame excuses. “I saw the way y’all kept looking at each other, you giggling like a damn school girl at his jokes. You could cut the tension with a damn steak knife. I wonder how Angelo’s gonna feel about that.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about Angelo’s feelings?” 

“Never. But I bet he’d combust into flames if he was here,” Gemini smiled evilly.

Sighing heavily, Ivy loaded the last plate in the dishwasher. “Do you know he got into it with Roman on the first day? A whole shouting match. Barely twenty-four hours since the new neighbor moved in and he’s already fighting the guy. This was just me kinda trying to make up for it.”

“What?! I’d love to see that fight. My money’s on the dude that looks like a linebacker.” The stretch of silence that followed was ominous, and Ivy could already forecast her next words. “I’ll admit. He seems…nice. Sexy as hell. Charming and all that shit. But I need you to be careful, hun. There's an energy about him that I can’t put my finger on.”

Unsure she was ready for this lecture, Ivy rubbed her temples. “Judgmental much? You only just met him.”

“I’m good at reading people. You know this.”

“And I’m just being a good neighbor. You know this.”

“I do. You can’t help yourself, my sweet, wonderful bestie,” Gemini playfully nudged her friend with her shoulder. “But don’t forget you have a young daughter to look out for. I don’t want either of you to get hurt by getting too close too fast.”

Taking in a calming breath, Ivy spoke again, slow and measured to keep the peace. “Gem. I love you and I appreciate you always. But I’ll be okay. I promise,” she answered, her eyes shining with resolve.

As the two women continued to gossip, Roman stood silently by the entrance of the kitchen, his expression unreadable as he listened to every word.

Another long, tough week segued to another weekend of needed rest which found Ivy relaxing in her newly purchased hanging daybed, watching her daughter and her puppy play together as 2000s R&B tunes wafted through the Bluetooth speakers stationed in her backyard. However, her watchful eye was a bit distracted today as it kept glancing over her picket fence for any sign of Roman, who seemed to have vanished without a trace in the past few days. His outdoor chairs remained unoccupied, no coffee mug on his side tables, the house as quiet and empty as it was before he moved in. The serial killer discourse with Gemini and the feedback from the Neighborhood Watch had her feeling slightly more agitated these days, and as absurd as it was, she found herself hoping that her new neighbor hadn’t suffered the same fate as Rhea…

There was no need to worry. Maybe he was caught up with work, or was away visiting friends or family. Either way, she found herself missing his looming yet comforting presence, missed seeing the crinkles around his eyes that accompanied his sunny smile, longed for the longing glances they’d shared far too many times to count now... 

Blowing out her cheeks, she leaned back and closed her eyes, hoping to clear her head. For someone who she just met, he was on the brain way too much. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. At all.

“Hi Mr Roman!”

Zaia’s excited voice, as well as the deep one that followed her daughter’s greeting, startled her from her thoughts as her eyes flew back open, landing on his big frame as he stood at the fence that separated their homes. Ivy rose to her feet, trying to ignore the relief, excitement and nervousness bubbling inside her as she approached him slowly, their eyes locked. Other than the bags forming under his irises, he was still as handsome as ever, his cable-knit sweater and dark jeans giving off that polished, modelesque aesthetic she’d become accustomed to.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he said to her, the sound of his voice deep and soothing and sorely missed.

“Hey, stranger. Been a minute. Are you okay?” she asked, getting her answer from the way he dragged a big hand down his face with a loaded sigh. She noticed the bandage was gone. “How’s your hand?”

“Good as new.” Roman lifted his now bare hand and rotated it for emphasis. “As for my absence, just work stuff. Back-to-back late hours. It be like that sometimes. I hope you didn’t miss me too much.” He met her stare with a knowing smile, the same smile that made her swoon since the day they first met, and not the first time had her averting her gaze, tugging coyly at the hem of her retro Backstreet Boys t-shirt. 

“I never got to properly thank you for dinner, and for the cookie recipe,” he continued, “It was a big hit at the office, everyone loved it.”

Ivy beamed. “Aww, that’s so sweet. I’m glad to hear that.” 

“Man, you saved my ass, that’s for sure. You’ve been so wonderful to me, Ivy, and I was hoping I could repay it by taking you out to dinner sometime.” Gauging her raised eyebrows, he chuckled softly as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Ay, I woulda stayed home and cooked somethin’, but my skills could never measure up to yours or my wife’s.”

Wife.

This was the first time he’d mentioned a spouse of any kind. There was no ring on his finger, so there was a story there, one she felt compelled to know more about.

“Your wife…Is she not here with you?” she asked, treading lightly on what she could already tell was a sensitive subject.

Roman was silent for a moment, then when he spoke again, his voice was a little more than a hoarse whisper. “Nah, she isn't. She, uh, passed away last year.”

That explained it. The haunted expression she perceived lurking behind the vibrance of his eyes. Carrying the burden of grief and heartbreak that she empathized with more than he would ever know. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” she whispered. 

Clearing his throat, he managed a nod, returning the sincere look she gave him. “Thanks. It’s been…rough, to say the least. But I’m hangin’ in there. One day at a time, ya know?”

He looked so sad, so worn down by opening up about his loss, and it tugged at her heartstrings. Without thinking, she reached out to rub his arm, offering him comfort, solace. When his eyes shut at her touch, she feared she had toed a line, crossed it, even. Until he opened them again, the sadness wiped away by a searing heat she felt in her bones. Her heart raced as he shifted their hands to link their fingers together, sending a defibrillator’s worth of electricity through her curvy figure. Fuck. He was looking at her that way again. All intense and serious and sexy and all sorts of tempting. She didn’t want him to ever look away. 

There was no denying the mutual attraction that simmered between them. It was clear as day. But it was also clear that he was still grieving and was lonely and craved some semblance of comfort. Yet, she found herself wanting to give him that comfort. She wanted to get to know him. She wanted to jump over the fence and into his sturdy arms, wanted to kiss those soft-looking lips of his. To know what his hair felt like between her fingers…

How she missed it, she wasn’t sure. The roar of the engine of the Lexus pulling into the driveway, the owner of the vehicle storming through her house. She’d been so lost in Roman and in his aura and the intimate moment they were sharing that she hadn’t even heard Angelo barreling into her home like he always did until he was standing in front of them. Her deer-in-the-headlights countenance could not have helped her cause as Angelo looked from her to Roman and then back again, zoning in on their entwined hands, the bewilderment on his face giving way to blind wrath. 

“Motherfucker, I thought I told you to stay away from my girl!” Swiping Ivy aside with enough force to send her crashing against the fence, he shoved Roman hard in the chest, knocking him a few steps back. “Oh I see what this is! You wanna fuck my woman, huh?” 

“Angelo stop!” Ivy yelled as in the distance, Zaia began to cry. Grimacing through her pain, she tugged him by the arm and dragged him forcibly away, which was a tough task as he was nearly a foot taller than her, outweighed her by a good fifty pounds and vibrated with misplaced rage. Glancing behind her, she watched with an almost morbid fascination as Roman’s disposition completely shifted, his gorgeous face twisted with unbridled fury. 

“You put your fucking hands on me?!” In what seemed like slow motion, the much bigger and much taller man leapt smoothly over her fence like it was nothing. He propelled forwards with long strides like an angry bull across her backyard and into her house in a matter of seconds. “A’ight, I’m tired of being humble! You wanna fuss like a lil’ bitch, let’s go!” 

Guiding Zaia and Duchess to safety, Ivy’s anxiety reached a fever pitch as the two men stood literally nose to nose sizing each other up in the middle of her living room. “Guys, please! Zaia’s here!” she pleaded.

Angelo puffed out his chest as he eyeballed his adversary smugly. “Don’t get yourself hurt cuz you tryna comfort my bitch or my kid when I ain’t around. You in my house, fool,” he threatened.

Thick eyebrows raised in cruel amusement, Roman looked around the house. “Funny, I don’t see your name or your face anywhere.” He leaned in closer, his next words loud enough for only the other man to hear, “But pretty soon, your bitch gon’ be screamin’ my name and sittin’ on my face,” he bragged, pointing at his chin, hoping, praying that the punk bitch would take the bait. 

Too easy.

With teeth bared, Angelo swung at him. Wildly and carelessly enough for Roman to dodge easily and retaliate with his huge fist smashing into the other man’s face. There was an ugly cracking sound, and blood spurted from Angelo’s nose as his head snapped back and he stumbled backwards.

“Stop it! Stop it right now!” Ivy cried, but it was to no avail as Angelo lunged again, crashing into Roman. She threw herself between them, trying and woefully failing to pull the warring men apart who were seeing nothing but red as they beat the crap out of each other.

“Daddy, stop fighting! You’re gonna hurt Mama!”

Zaia, bless her brave little heart, was at her father’s side, tugging desperately on his sleeve. It all happened so fast, Ivy only able to see the moment Angelo lashed out blindly, his hand smacking Zaia right in the face. Her scream of pain as her little body collapsed on the ground pierced the air, plunging the room into stone cold silence.

“Mama!” Zaia burst into fresh tears as she clutched her face with one hand, the other reaching out to Ivy who quickly rushed over, scooping her into her arms and gently cradling her little head as she wailed loudly and clutched at Ivy for dear life.

A bloodied Angelo clambered to his feet, visibly devastated by his mistake. “Baby…Princess, I’m so sorry…Daddy didn't mean—”

“No! Don’t touch her!” Ivy snapped, backing away. Enough was enough. “I told you to stop. I told you!” Grasping her baby carefully, she glowered at him through unshed tears of anger. “Get the fuck out of my house! Now!” she hissed.

Swallowing hard, Angelo edged forwards again, his eyes full of regret and focused on his daughter sobbing into her mother's shoulder. “Zaia-”

“I said get out!” Ivy shouted again, feeling for the first time in a long time, nothing but disgust towards her ex-boyfriend. “I’ve had enough of your childish bullshit, enough of you!” She hated cursing in front of her baby girl, but her father had pushed her to her absolute limit. “Leave and never come back. You’re not welcome here anymore.” He could perform his fatherly duties from across town. Today was the last day he was setting foot in this house. 

Stunned, his face contorted indignantly at her words. “You playin’, right? You seriously gonna do this? It was an accident! Zaia, come here. Come to Daddy,” He extended his hands towards his daughter, his features sagging in dismay when she burrowed deeper into Ivy’s bosom, refusing to look at her dad as her sniffles intensified. 

“She asked you to leave. Several times.” Roman towered over Angelo menacingly, his big body shielding Ivy and Zaia. “Don’t make her repeat it again.” 

Angelo tilted his chin defiantly. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you deal with me. I’ll be happy to whoop your ass again,” Roman said simply, silently daring the son of a bitch to make a wrong move. 

“Baby, you trippin’. That’s my daughter! This meathead nigga needs to know that he’s oversteppin’! You’re mine!”

“No I’m not!” Her reply was cold and exhausted. “We’ve been over for years, Angelo! Get that into your thick skull and get out of my life!”

Scoffing snidely, the man’s blood-stained sneer was a frightening visual as he walked backwards out the front door, talking his shit on his way to his car. “You’re not keepin’ me away from my child. You need me, Ivy. You’ll come crawling back,” he growled, then pointed angrily at Roman, “And whoever the fuck you think your bitch ass is, bet, I’mma see about you...”

Roman stood in the driveway, muscular arms crossed over his torn, blood-stained sweater, watching like a hawk as the piece of shit backed out onto the road and drove off. He looked down at Ivy to his left. “Are you oka-”

But she had already retreated into the safety of her house, slamming the door shut. Roman returned his attention to the Lexus driving down the street, silently vowing that today would be the last time Angelo would ever be seen again.

Thanks for reading and thanks again to this anon for the story idea. Your replies and reblogs would be much appreciated if you enjoyed!

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[teddy06writes]

Whumptober Masterlist/Overview

Hey guys! I'm going to be attempting to participate in Whumptober this year (though admittedly I did kind of mash together a few different prompt lists). I have about 20 days planned out right now, and I really hope to get through them, but no guarantees unfortunately, because I do have other stuff going on in my life. Also most of these are in fact just going to be hurt/comfort because I am a weak man. Also yes I am aware that the variation in these characters is kind of insane, don't come at me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day One - Survivors Guilt/"It's not your fault." - Robert 'Bob' Floyd - An accident during a training hop leaves your WSO badly injured, and you can't help but blame yourself. Bob makes it his mission to convince you otherwise.

Day Two - Migraines - Darry Curtis - Juggling a migraine and the Curtis gang is not the easiest thing in the world. Luckily, Darry is there to come to your rescue and tell the others off

Day Three - Overstimulation - Diego Hargreeves - (1960s, autistic Reader) - Between the prison break, Diego's strange brother, and home movie footage showing the assassination of the president, your not sure how much more you can take.

Day Four- Field medicine/"Hang on, we're going to have to improvise." - Fili - Even with the battle beginning to turn in your favor, there are still many losses to come, no matter how hard you work to prevent them.

Day Five - "You don't need to earn this." - Tommy Shelby - When your surprises and gentle treatment catch Tommy by surprise, he questions what he'd done to deserve it.

Day Six - Hostile environment/"I don't know how anyone could survive that." - Alfie Solomons - (War Era, Male Reader) - A poorly planned attack leaves you stuck in no mans land. Even if you make it back to the so called "safety" of the English trenches, nothing will ever be the same.

Day Seven - Needles/Stitching - John Shelby - After being sent on another needless errand by his brother, John returns late, exhausted and bloody.

Day Eight - Panic Attack - Aaron Hotchner - When a case that hits too close to home has too many missing pieces, and seemingly no end, you can't help but fall prey to a growing sense of panic.

Day Nine - Falling Asleep in a hospital room - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw - When a training incident gone wrong lands Bradley in the hospital, you take it upon yourself to stay with him.

Day Ten - "Shhh, I've got you now, I'm here." - Alfie Solomons - Sabini's men kidnap you in a desperate attempt to get a leg up on your husband. When Alfie finds out, he's ready to burn the world down to get to you.

Day Eleven - Chronic pain - Boromir - The first day of a cold spell causes your pain to flare up, but you're determined to grit your teeth through the pain. Boromir however, is determined to get you to rest.

Days Twelve - Fourteen Break Days

Day Fifteen - Hiding an Injury - Aragorn - Somewhere in the thicket of Helms Deep, you're injured, but in the chaos that follows, doing anything about it seems to slip your mind.

Day Sixteen - "I did good, right?" - Umbrella Academy Unit - A mission gone wrong forces you to over use your powers, pushing you too far.

Day Seventeen - Bleeding Through Bandages - Kili - After being injured in escaping the Orcs, Oin does his best to heal you, but miles down the road, it doesn't seem to be enough.

Day Eighteen - Nightmare - Alfie Solomons - Night after night, you are plagued with nightmares, and Alfie seems to be the only thing that can cure them.

Day Nineteen - Scars - Diego Hargreeves - While patching Diego up after a fight, you see his scars for the first time.

Day Twenty - "Who did this to you?" - Dallas Winston - You get jumped, Dally plots revenge.

Day Twenty One - "You haven't done anything wrong." - Aaron Hotchner - (Autistic reader) - After a particularly long day, you find yourself overwhelmed and unsure. Luckily Aaron is there to help you calm down, no matter how much you protest.

Day Twenty Two - Chronic Pain (again) - Alife Solomons - Getting Alfie to take a day off when his sciatica is bothering him is a full time job.

Day Twenty Three - Exhaustion - Darry Curtis - Darry has been working himself to the utter bone. You take it upon yourself to make him rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These might not get posted consecutively, but I'll do my best.

[bussyyeukie]

Neon Lights and Bloody Fights

(fighter!simon x reader)

part one. part two.

Your head hurt. Like, hurt.

A throbbing rolling behind your forehead for the better part of 4 hours.

Unable to sleep, barely able to find the taste in anything you ate. You sat on your couch, leaned back and legs spread as you held the remote in your hand, eyes staring unfocused at whatever the fuck was on the old screen of the TV.

A sandwich with one bite taken out of it sat on the coffee table in front of you, next to the barely drunk cup of coffee. The drip that had spilled down the side dried, cutting a line down Snoopy's head.

Your shirt big on your frame, and your shorts had ridden up slightly, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Your hair was unbrushed and thrown into a claw clip that had actually started to sag, not exactly doing its job since you had to keep tucking hair behind your ears. Lips bitten raw, the bags under your eyes prominent as you stared blankly at the screen. You weren’t even sure if you had muted it or if you just weren’t listening.

It had been two days.

Since the fight. Since the bet. Since your newfound job with (if you had to guess) criminals.

Two days.

Mr. Price (or John, as he insisted you called him) said to expect a call from him within the week to discuss a meeting about your new position. You had offered him your number but he said it was no need, they already had it.

Your phone was sitting on the cushion next to you. It was a flip phone, nothing too fancy even in that department. Looked like something a dad who only wore cargo shorts would own. Your gaze would wander to it every few minutes, wondering when it would ring. Your feet rubbed against the carpet under them, socks gliding smoothly.

For the weather outside, it wasn’t too cold in your little apartment. But you pride yourself on keeping it cozy.

There were maybe two boxes by your front door. Poorly taped shut.

They were your ex-boyfriends. Well, it was stuff you were debating giving back to him. Not that he wasn’t around to collect it, the fucker’d been loitering outside your work and calling you nonstop to the point where he was using his friends' phones after you blocked him. Which, you didn’t mind blocking them either cause they weren’t exactly your friends, and you didn’t exactly like them.

You were beyond thankful you two didn’t live together. Suddenly grateful he had denied the offer 6 months ago, which you’re pretty positive is because he was cheating on you. But at the time you didn’t want to admit that. 

Letting your head fall back against the couch, huffing out your nose, you thought back to that night.

You haven't seen your ex the rest of the night. Only the next day when you went to his house to collect your things. Honestly you almost forgot why you had gone when you saw his face, it looked like one big mash of black and blue. Both eyes nearly swollen shut, a bandaged gash on his eyebrow, and on his cheek under his eye. A pretty busted lip, a swollen nose, his jaw even looked swollen. He was almost scared to see you, kept looking over your shoulder and flinching.

He had let you in, bracing the whole time like you were going to hit him. Which, admittedly you were going to until you saw the number that Simon and the other guy had done on him.

…Simon.

You glanced back to your phone, then to the ceiling again.

Subconsciously narrowing your eyes, you thought about the hulking man.

The way his shoulders heaved as his breath huffed into the air in front of him. Stance tall and head bent down, shoulders rounded with fists clenched. Blood coloring in the black and white tattoos drinking up the expense of his arm. Sweat dripping from his nose and splashing onto the ground in front of him. He turned to you and his face–

Blank.

“Right,” you sighed, rubbing your face and trailing your hands up to your hair, “he’s faceless…”

He was strange, the opposite of what you’d expected the man to act like. You almost wished he’d just been some cocky asshole so it didn’t confuse you as much.

Something loud happened on the TV that made you jump and look forward. Hair nearly all fallen from the sloppy excuse for an updo. A breath escaped you, jumping again as your phone rang.

The silly, bubbly song falling from the rough speakers–your friend had changed it years ago and you had no clue how to change it, so you were stuck with some preppy pop song–buzzing erratically on the cushion. Your heart was beating out of your chest, stomach turning, face burning red. You watched it buzz for a second. The brief thought of not answering shot through your mind, but you decided against it. There was no way they’d just give up after one call. An unrecognized number on the dingy yellow screen.

Your throat was dry so it didn’t do much good. Swallowing, you grabbed the phone and flipped it open, hesitantly holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

Your voice was a little scratchy, but nervously high as it echoed back to you. 

“Ah hello!” the voice on the other end was deep, rough as it struggled through your speakers, “Beautiful mornin’ init?”

You shrugged, “Um, I’m sure it is Sir.”

You hadn’t left your house this morning. It was only about 11 anyway, so it’s not like you were shut in all day.

“Ach what’d I tell ya’ about tha’, John is just fine missy,” a chuckling rang between his words, and the grin on his face was evident through the words.

“Right sir–uh John,” you put a hand to your face, pinching between your brows, “John.”

He chuckled again, deep from his belly, “Don’t worry abou' it, darlin', expect ya' know what this call’ll be abou'?”

You nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see you and felt your cheeks flush, “Yes. T-the job right?”

“Indeed,” there was some shuffling on the other side of the phone, “Meet me at 2 today, I’d like ta' speak abou' this in person, face-ta-face, ya' know, not’a mention there’s someone I wan' you ta' meet!”

Licking your lips you paused your show, a rock on your stomach, “Um, are you sure? I really, I’m not sure if today would work best, I have some things to drop…off, and–”

“No,” the word was so solid, even through the crummy speaker you shut your mouth, “You’ll be 'ere at 2:00pm, dress yerself up proper, an' bring a notepad or some'tin to write on.”

With your elbow on your knee and your head in your hand, staring at the floor under you, nodding, you answered, “O-of course, I’ll see you at 2:00. Where would–where would you like to meet?”

"I’ll send you the address, we’re all very excited to welcome ya' to the team, 'eard some good things,” you heard the door open on the other side of the door, perking up slightly, listening in. You couldn’t hear what the other man had said, but Price sighed, “Gonna 'ave'ta cut our lil' convo short, I expect to see you at 2:00 sharp.”

With that the phone was hung up, your tongue fat and choking in your mouth. You threw your phone down, annoyed. With everything, the whole stupid situation. You should just call the cops. The idea seemed bright in your head for two seconds before it fizzled out.

“No…” you sighed and looked to the clock, 11:50, “That would be dumb…”

Pushing yourself up off the couch you rubbed your face and stretched your back. You hadn’t slept well last night, or the night before. In fact you hadn’t slept the night of the fight, so you weren’t running on too much at the moment. Shuffling your way down the hall to your bedroom, you looked through your closet. Thankful at least that you had some respectable clothing due to your job, throwing a pair of gray pleated slacks and a button up on the bed.. For a moment you wondered if Price would prefer if you wore a skirt. Then you scoffed at yourself.

Wandering to your bathroom, you started a shower, the water creaking to life through your pipes. Typically you’d throw on some music, but for some reason it felt out of place. Like you were supposed to be in silence, in mourning. The water was the only sound in the house.

Your mind wandered back to Simon, surely you’d be seeing him today. 

You thought back to him standing on the mat in the ring, hands practically grasping the metal cage in front of him, shadowed and standing like a titan in front of you. Shorts tight on his thighs, markings decorating his skin, color blossoming on his body. Muscles taut and rippling under his skin.

His face completely darkened, shadowed and black to your vision.

Sticking a hand under the water, you let it sit there for a second, the warmth engulfing it as you yawned. The door to your bathroom opened, it tended to get overrun with steam when you showered. Looking out into your bedroom, and to the clothes laying out on your bed. 

This couldn’t be real, there was no way. It sounded like some…shitty story you’d read on tumblr or something. Your boyfriend bets money he doesn’t have on an underground fight and loses, and now you have to work for the big fighters. What a joke.

You looked to your sink, pursing your lips at the potted plant that sat in it. You reached over and turned on the faucet, letting the pot fill to the brim, then turning it off, poking some holes in the first with your finger, watching the thirsty plant drink up the water.

Taking your hair down you sighed, and started to take off your clothes.

The shower passed quickly. Washing your hair, putting products in, and blow drying it in almost a trance. Standing with your arms crossed in front of your bed, staring at those clothes, skin soft with lotion and goosebumped from standing in the non-steamy air in just underwear and a bra. Lips scrunched and pouted. 

“Just put the damn clothes on,” you muttered, shaking your hair out, “You’re being a baby about this…”

You felt cheated, almost like you’re taking on someone else's punishment. The image of your ex’s face flashing through your head made you freeze up, brows raising a bit. He would probably have a TBI from the way those men–Simon, the name rolled through your head like a tumbleweed again–had dealt with him.

You didn’t want a TBI.

Quickly getting dressed, you tucked the creamy pinstriped button up into the slacks that were a little long while barefoot, you had bought them for heels, and buttoned it to the top, not tight enough on your neck that it left you clawing at it an hour into the day. Huffing dramatically you smacked your bed, looking to the clock. 1:20. 

Feet padding against the hardwood of the hall, leaning over the back of your couch to snatch up your phone. The screen reading one notification, you flipped it open, seeing the address that was sent.

You knew what street it was, about 20 minutes from your house, not too far of a drive. The office was at least a 30 minute drive, though it usually turned into 50 due to traffic and your car needed 10 minutes to heat up or it would crap out at a stop light.

You were relieved that the address wasn’t in the middle of one of the crappier areas. Not that the street was high end, but it wasn’t known for the drug corners or stabbings.

Hurrying to the bathroom, you threw your hair up, a little nicer than earlier, pulling parts of the front out by your ears and around your face. You debated makeup for a second, then decided a little wouldn’t hurt. Rubbing the lipstick onto your lips, nothing shocking, you honestly didn’t want to stick out at all, and bright red lipstick might not have helped that goal.

You grabbed a sweater, a dark piece with a wide square neckline. Stopping just below the waistline of the slacks, Belt sleek under it, you hated when a belt was bulky and obvious under a shirt or a sweater. It made your skin crawl.

You snapped your fingers, “Fuck right, a notepad…”

Looking around your apartment, you grew frantic, not finding anything. 

“How the fuck do I not have a notepad,” messing around in your bedside drawer, you found a thin brown notepad, the kind you flipped open, it was pretty much blank, save for a grocery list on the first page, but you can rip that out later. A pen clipped to it already.

Gazing at the clock, you groaned, 1:30.

Stopping by the door, you grabbed a pair of heeled boots, only about three inches, and not big boots. In fact you weren’t sure they were boots, you’d just always called them that. They might have just been regular shoes. Grabbing a bag, your wallet and phone in your hand, you paused at the door, hand gripping the handle. The metal cool under your touch.

Debating again, if you just ignored them…

Ryans face popped into your head. Broken bones, TBI…right.

With that you jerked open the door. The old thing creaking on its hinges.

The radio played in your car. Nearly silent with how low you had it. It wasn’t very cold out, slightly on the chilly side but there were plenty of people in shorts and t-shirts. 

But you’d also seen people in shorts and t-shirts in snow, so it didn’t really mean all that much.

You’d been sitting in the parking lot for 5 minutes already. You have 5 minutes to walk to the door. You’d driven past it, it was two stores down. You felt a little silly expecting it to be some super obviously sketchy place. But it was just a gym, a boxing gym. The sign was pretty nice, reading 141 with neon lighting around it. It wasn’t crazy fancy, it looked like one of those old school places. 

Your head hit the headrest, you turned off your car, and stepped out, keys clutched in your hand, squinting into the light. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…”

With a sigh, you rubbed your eyebrows, checking your reflection in the mirror. You looked tired, but not bad. Your lips had regained some moisture since this morning, hopefully you wouldn’t pick at them too much.

Checking the time you sighed, locking your car and quickly jogging to the street, making your way over to the building. Stopping in front of it and swallowing the spit stuck in the back of your throat. There was a big glass door on the wall, pushing it open, a bell dinged, as you tentatively walked in.

There was a front desk, and it led into a very open gym with a boxing ring in the back. Lots of punching bags littered around and some other equipment you didn’t quite understand.

There wasn’t anyone by the front desk. But there were people in the ring, and people in the gym, even though the number was low–two people in the ring and what looked to be a coach there as well. 

You took a few more steps inside, before a loud voice made you tense up.

“Aye, looky ‘ere,” a boisterous Scottish voice rang through the gym, looking to your side you spotted a tall man with a choppily cut mohawk strolling up to you, a bright pink cast on his wrist, almost to his elbow. Lots of signatures of drawings on it. Mostly dicks, the closer he got the more you could see. He was smiling wide and sweating, large basketball shorts and a tank top on. The tank top almost soaked through, sticking to his chest.

The gym reeked of sweat, and cheap cologne.

“Class, lookin’ bonnie ye are,” he stopped just about in front of you, hands on his hips and looked you up and down, “Whit are ye daein' in a place like this?”

You grinned at him nervously, almost looking like you were in pain.

“Um, Price?” you said, clearing your throat, “I have a job interview with Price–John…”

“Oh,” the man perked up, then got a little red in the face, “Sorry, lass, didnae realise ye were that bonnie thing, though it wis jist ma lucky day.”

Chuckling a bit you nodded, “Yeah, I, I think I'm actually late?”

You looked around for a clock.

“Late?”

“I was supposed to meet him at 2:00?”

He scoffed and waved you off, “Nah, he’s late, dinnae worry, come wi’ me, I’ll introduce ye tae the boys till he wraps up whit he wis daein’.”

He hooked an arm around your shoulder, stuffing you in his armpit, which reeked of sweat and strong deodorant. You nearly stumbled as he walked forward, grabbing his arm and trying to pull your head away.

“W-what–ugh, please–” you attempted to free yourself, but that man was strong, and his arms locked up, “At least away from the armpit–”

“You’ll like the boys,” he didn’t seem to have heard what you said, leading you to the back of the gym, around the corner to a more secluded looking boxing ring. Where two men were boxing, “They’re reeaall nice, especially tae the bonnie ones! Haha–real jokers those–”

The sweaty man was rambling about something, but your feet felt like lead as you spotted who was fighting.

Solid hits ringing out into the gym. Both in head padding, and gloves.

You spotted the large man in black shorts, tight on his thighs, hulking figure basking in the overhead light, beautiful ink splattered up his arm, his skin flushed as he moved, shirtless and glowy. Heavy grunts coming from the ring, solid punches landing.

Your feet felt heavy, almost stumbling a bit as the man dragged you closer.

Simon's muscles rippled under his skin as he threw punches, dodging, and light on his feet. Fully focused. Sweat dripped from him, splashing onto the mat under him. The man he was fighting in orange shorts, and a white boxing mask. It was the black man from the fight, you could see his face better through the mask. Eye still a bit bruised, but looking good, his shirt was tight on his body, like a compression shirt gym guys wear. He was much leaner than Simon, you noticed, but he still filled out the shirt.

“Boys!” the scots voice snapped you out of whatever thought process you were in, making you jolt a bit.

The two groaned and slowed down their hits, almost ignoring him.

“Look who I got!”

The pretty boy glanced over and smiled, signalling to Simon to stop, motioning to you with his head. Simon had his back turned to you, shoulders dropping in an irritated state as he turned.

His shoulders rising back up and his muscles tensing, his eyes widening, pink in his cheeks and forehead. He snapped his gaze to the man next to you, brows pinching.

“Oh hey!” voice muffled, the black man chuckled, pulling his head gear off and pulled out his mouth guard. You cringed as spit stuck to it, splattering a bit as he shook it off. He walked over to you two, past Simon–jabbing him in the gut as he passed. Simon grunted and muttered something under his breath, pulling his gloves off, “How ya’ been!”

You gulped, offering a nervous smile, “Um, pretty good…”

The man holding you chuckled, clapping you on the back, relaxing his grip so he wasn’t pulling you into his armpit as much, allowing you to stand to full height. Tucking some hair behind your ear you glanced at the man next to you then to the men in the ring. The pretty man was leaning against the ropes, removing his gloves, turning to say something to Simon. Who was still lingering back, meticulously removing his gloves.

Simon looked at him from under his eyebrows, then to you and the sweaty man.

“Ach, come on, Ghost, be a pal,” the man next to you bellowed, looking down to you, "He’s a wee bit shy, dinnae mind him."

You nodded, “O-ok.”

Your hair was a little ruffled, and your collar was popped on one side now, you didn’t notice Simon watching you.

“I’m Kyle by the way,” the black man held out his hand, as if for a hand shake, the man behind you nudged you forward, your heels clicking on the cement flooring. You smiled and reached up, shaking his hand, “Or Gaz, whichever you prefer.”

“Nice to officially meet you,” you felt incredibly out of place.

The man behind you snapped his fingers, you looked at him curiously, "Ah'm Johnny. Dinnae tell ye earlier, did ah?"

You shook his hand as well. Both men had strong grips, you’d wiped your hand on your pants after Kyle’s handshake, his hand sweaty from the glove. Made your skin crawl a bit as a matter of fact.

Simon walked up next, not leaning on the ropes like Kyle, his gloves and helmet off.

His hair was damp with sweat, cut short and even around his head, curling and waving slightly in places, stuck to his forehead and around his ears. A long scar running up his chin, and one disrupting his peachy lips, making the top lip curl slightly. Another smaller one on the side of his nose, which was strong and defined. Definitely having been broken before, a white scar splitting one of his eyebrows. His jaw was sharp and set, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. The stubble on his chin gone. You were right the night of the fight, his left eye was a bit swollen, a dark ring encompassing it, making his eyes look even more sunken.

Johnny grabbed your shoulder, snapping you out of your staring at Simon. Your face flushing as you realized you were in fact staring. Hoping it wasn’t for too long.

“Tha’s Simon, ah’m sure you knew tha’ though,” he giggled, Simon grunted.

“Yeah I introduce myself,” the words were a bit sharp, and Johnny waved him off.

“I do too!” he retaliated. Putting his hands on his hips.

Simon rolled his eyes and Kyle chuckled.

“Um,” you felt awkward interrupting them, feeling like an outsider, “Do, you know when Mr. Price is going to be back?”

You looked between them all nervously, Simon had his arms crossed in a broad stance, Kyle looked infinitely more relaxed. They both looked to each other and shrugged.

“Hell if I know, he went out to go talk ta’ someone but wouldn’t tell us who,” Kyle said, thinking for a moment, “I hope he brings back food.”

Johnny perked up, “Aye! I’m starved I tell ya’.”

Simon nodded, his gaze still locked on you. It felt more intense without the mask. Like he was sinking his brute hands into you, squeezing through you like wet clay, pushing their way to the center. Boring into you.

You straightened your sweater slightly, “He just left?”

The three nodded. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, checking the time.

2:15.

A snort of laughter rang out. You looked up, expecting something funny. Only to see the three men looking at you.

“What?”

“Wha’ is that?” Kyle pointed to your phone. With a confused look you held it up, “Yeah lass, tha’.”

“My phone?” you looked at it, sure it's a little old but what was wrong with it.

“Thangs a right relic,” Johnny cupped your hand that was holding it, pulling it closer. His hand was warm as it held yours, your brows pinching together as you looked at him.

Missing the way Simon’s lips pressed tight and his scowl grew.

“It’s not that old, come on,” you argued. Looking at the other two, pulling it back to yourself, Putting it away in your pocket.

Kyle grimaced, clicking his tongue, “I don’t know, it’s pretty old…”

You looked to Simon, seeking some sort of…anything as far as support.

He shrugged, a beat of silence, “Things're pretty old, almost as old as Price.”

A ring of laughter echoed through the part of the gym, Johnny clapping his thigh. You smiled as well, giggling to yourself. Simon’s smile was handsome, his teeth surprisingly straight (not perfect but better than you were expecting really), and his lip curled a little funny due to the scaring.

“Wot’s so funny?” a rough voice rang through the gym. You felt your heart jump and you looked back, Johnny doing the same. 

Price was walking up to everyone. Wearing jeans that were worn on his thighs and a tight button up that was rolled up to his elbows, sloppily tucked into his jeans. A tired look on his face and what looked to be an overstuffed planner in his hand. Rings decorating his meaty fingers.

His hair was tousled and shoes clicked on the cement.

“Simon here was just sayin’–”

A thick hand slapped itself onto Kyle's mouth, your eyes widening and a fought down smile making their way onto your face. Simon’s brows pinched tight as he sent a mean look to the pretty man. Whose face was smashed in Simon’s hold.

“Nothin’, sir, mindless chatter,” Johnny grinned.

Price scoffed and put his free hand into his pocket.

“I see you’ve met Johnny,” he gestured with the planner in hand. Eyes crinkling into a soft smile.

“Um, y-yes!” you grinned, holding your hands behind your back.

Price continued walking till he was close to the four of you, glancing up behind your shoulder–to Simon and Kyle presumably.

“Everyone introduce themself?” he looked at you, “Been civil wit’ ya’?”

You nodded, “Yes Mr. Price, everyone’s been kind.”

Johnny clapped you on the back, startling you and jolting your body forward a bit, “See, Cap, she's fine, nae need to worry yer little heid.”

Kyle scoffed, and you swore you heard Simon grumbling behind you. Price shook his head and he walked up, putting a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it.

“You ready for that meetin’ darling?” 

He smelled like strong cologne, ushering you with him, guiding you away from the three men by the ring.

“Yes, I believe so,” you glanced back at them as Price moved his hand to your back, pushing you forward with them. Your eyes meeting Simons, his brown eyes lighting up, his cheeks pink as he huffed. His eyes darting down to Price’s hand then back up to your face, Johnny facing him, saying something you couldn’t quite hear. Simon swung at him.

You looked back at Price who was looking ahead.

He led you both to a door, and inside was an office. Nothing fancy, carpeting, a set of four lockers in the corner, a door in the back that looked a bit more heavy duty than the one you two walked in. A metal desk against the wall with a (dying) potted plant by it, an old looking chair and a little coffee table. A coat rack with jackets and hats on it, and a water cooler in the corner.

It smelled like smoke and old air freshener. 

Price walked up his desk, leaning against it with a heavy sigh, gesturing for you to sit in the chair in front.

“Sit, please, can’t imagine those are comfortable,” he chuckled.

You looked to the chair and sat down, placing your bag at your feet. 

“Thank you–they, they aren’t that bad really, I’m used to wearing them at my job…”

Price perked up like he’d suddenly remembered something, “Yes, you’ll ‘ave to put in your two weeks.”

You blanked, puzzled, “I’m sorry?”

“You won’t 'ave the time to juggle this job an' that one, especially if it's a 9-to-5 gig. You'll be workin' a lot to pay off that debt,” Price rubbed the back of his head, and moved around his desk to sit in the groaning chair.

“I–” you looked at him, “I, can’t quit. I, I need the money sir, I don’t be able to pay rent or my-my car payment, I need to buy food and pay my insurance and–”

Price waved you off, “No worries, hun, we’ll take care of all that. Can’t 'ave our new assistant on the streets hungry, can we?”

You swallowed, “N-no I suppose not…I’ll be paying off that debt I accumulate as well I assume?”

Price laughed, crossing his arms on his desk, “Reckon Simon’d 'ave my 'ead for that!”

You tilted your head, confused, “Why?”

The man waved you off, “He’s a sweet man, wouldn’t stand for indentured servitude, I’m afraid.”

Nodding, you glanced down to your lap, where your hands were clasped tightly, licking your lips nervously.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.”

“What do you think of them?”

Looking up, you met Price's gaze, his hands folded under his chin. Eyes steady on your own.

“Who?” you paused for a second before pinching your brows together, a little embarrassed, “Oh–yes, them. They are all very nice, and they’ve been very sweet to me…I…”

You rubbed the back of your head, debating if you should bring it up, “I saw what they did to Ryan…probably would’ve done it myself if they hadn’t.”

Price laughed, deep from his belly, spooking you a bit, suddenly embarrassed.

“You should be thankin' Simon for that, 'ad to drag the man off the poor sap!”

Price rubbed his beard and shook his head.

“Oh,” you don’t know why your stomach flipped the way it did, or why your cheeks heated up, “I should thank him sometime.”

“Don’t worry about it, 'e was more than 'appy to do it, darlin',” he rolled back, jerking the top desk of his drawer open. You sat in silence, unsure how to respond to that. Simon sure was weird.

He pulled out a thick manilla envelope full of papers, nearly an inch thick.

He grunted as he placed it onto the desk smiling to himself as he pushed it towards you. The drawer closing with a startling rattle of the desk.

“I’m goin' to need you to fill these papers out and read through 'em by the end of next week, but good news is that’s all the paperwork you’ll 'ave to do for the hirin', mostly just liability stuff an' certain NDA’s,” he explained, you stared at the papers and nodded along, the feeling of your guts tying up. This was a real, dangerous thing. Not just a job interview, this was you tying yourself up with dangerous people.

Blood. Hardened knuckles. Scarred faces. Strong muscles.

You grabbed the folder, holding it in your lap, “Thank you, I’ll make sure it’s done.”

Price nodded, “Just turn it in 'ere when you’re finished. Gimme a call an' I’ll make sure someone’s 'ere to unlock the room for you.”

“Yes Mr. Price,” you gripped the folder.

“So formal,” he muttered, leaning back into his chair, “I’m just goin' to chat with you for a bit, ask a few questions if you don’t mind.”

“Yes sir, that’s no problem,” you smiled sweetly at him. 

He paused for a moment, looking at you, “How long you an' your boyfriend been datin'?”

You gulped, shuffling, “Um, it was just over 2 years…”

“Was?”

“I broke up with him,” you looked to the side, then back to the smiling man, looking very pleased with himself.

“Good! He was a lowlife anyway,” he crossed his arms, “Glad 'e won’t be draggin' you down anymore, you don’t deserve that.”

You blinked, “Th-thank you…”

He spoke like you two were familiar with each other. It was strange.

“Not to sound rude, but, you kind of sound like,” you paused, “Like you know me? I think I’d remember if we’d met before.”

Price laughed again, softer this time, “No, we haven’t met before, don’t worry, but your ex-boyfriend spoke about you a lot, all good things for the most part. Even when 'e didn’t mean 'em to be, they cast you in a good light.”

You scoffed, looking away, of course he would talk shit about you. What did you really expect?

Price’s chair creaked as he leaned forward, “Don’t pay it much mind. Look at 'im now–ah! Don’t worry about fairness, we’ll be visitin' 'im every now an' then to make sure 'e’s been behavin'.”

You nodded, not exactly put off by the idea, “Sounds like something Simon would jump on.”

“See you’re learning already!” he leaned over the desk and clapped your shoulder, jostling you, “You’ll get on fine, won’t be too challengin' of a job.”

You shifted in your seat, it was stuffy in the room, and it was growing hot. Unsure if it actually was or if you were just nervous–very possibly both.

“What would the job be, exactly?”

“Mostly just runnin' errands, keepin' medical papers in check, watchin' over the boys–make sure they don’t get into too much trouble, ya know–keep fight schedules in order, make sure the boys know what that is,” he thought for a moment, muttering to himself, “Ah–you’ll be accompanyin' me to meetin's an' 'elp a little with the tension between some of the fighters… they usually take information better from a pretty thing rather than a grumpy old man.”

You nodded, it was different from your other job, but nothing you couldn’t handle. You’ll just be his personal assistant pretty much.

“As you know Soap’s injured at the moment and –”

“Soap?” you felt your skin clam up when he shot you a look, realizing you’d interrupted him.

“Did he not–” with a sigh he explained, “Johnny is Soap, the loud scott out there, handsy one.”

You nodded, “Oh, sorry Mr. Price, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He scoffed, waving his hand, “Don’t worry, those boys interrupt more than anyone I know. Get out a paper an' I’ll tell you their 'code' names.”

You rummaged around your bag, pulling out the brown pad and pen, opening it, looking at the large man.

“Soap, is Johnny MacTavish, Ghost would be Simon Riley, Gaz would be Kyle Garrick,” he paused, “I’ll send you a list of some of the other fights from other rings, they fight 'ere occasionally an' vice versa, you’ll need to know that as well. When in the ring, you are only to use those code names, for everyone's safety.”

“Yes sir,” closing the notepad, and placing it on top of the folder, which weighed heavy on your thighs. In fact your shoulders weighted down heavily as well, and your head, pulling at your neck.

Price clapped his hands together, “I believe that covers it for now, feel free to call if you’ve got any questions or anythin'. I’ll get you the boys' numbers as well, in case you need the muscle. Oh–and the ‘gym’ is open from 10:00am–11:00pm, I expect you to be 'ere at 8:00am, but I’ll let you know if that changes on the day.”

You clenched your teeth, he didn’t really expect you to work for over 12 hours did he. Everyday?

“Of course Mr. Price,” you nodded, forcing a sugary smile onto your lips.

“I’ll be payin’ you well, let's say $30 an hour?” he nodded to himself, “Yeah, you can do the math on 'ow long that’ll take you to pay off–probably good to mention that I’ll only pay for the 8 hour day, any time I keep you past that will just be your kind donation to the gym.”

He smiled, soft and sweet like he didn’t just tell you you’d be working for a few hours each day no pay, and you're just going to do it. Not like you could argue. You were already in this mess. 

Pressing our lips together, and then prying them open to flash teeth you nodded and made a noise in the back of your throat, “Yes sir. I’d be glad to.”

“"I’m sure the boys would appreciate it as well,” his chair groaned and creaked. It sounded like your bones were doing the same as you sat there. His gaze was sharp, even with the smile, it’s like he was looking at your thoughts, your inner workings.

Like he knew everything you were going to say before you said it–and he was waiting to get his witty reply out. Ready to bite at whatever managed to slither it’s way out from between your lips.

“You’ll start today, be 'ere for a few hours, learn the ropes,” he grinned wide, “I’m sure you’ll find it very fun, girly.”

Your heart sank.

(Word count: 6098)

tag list:

@msjaeger @jamdoughnuts

[irisposts]

don’t go | e.williams

warning: cheating, slight angst

thinking about making multiple parts lemme know! :)

edited: yes/no

DINNER IS AWKWARD….

Your fork clinks against the plate as you attempt to spear the lingering asparagus. The sounds of Jesse clearing his throat and Dina blowing a breath of air fill the room.

Your eyes lift ever so slightly, observing Ellie toying with her food—her fork nudging lettuce around her plate, her expression disturbed. You then turn your attention to Calum, your boyfriend, who casually swipes at his mouth with a napkin, seemingly unfazed by the tension in the air.

You chew on your lip.

Jesse clears his throat once more, “Y/N, man, these mashed potatoes.” His usual southern drawl, which would bring you comfort, now adds to your anxiety. “Sure are good… love me some good ol’ mashed potatoes.”

Jesse awkwardly chuckles, then stops as Dina gestures for him to stop with a touch of her hand.

The first scrape of the chair reaches your ears.

“I’m not feeling well,” Ellie abruptly stands up and takes her plate.

You watch with wet eyes as she avoids eye contact, keeping them low to the ground. What stings the most is the comforting look Dina offers to her, and how Ellie acknowledges that instead.

“Thanks for the dinner.” She nods towards you and Calum, then disposes of her plate in the kitchen. You watch as she comes back to walk past and stops. She looks at the two of you this time, and you can see it in her eyes, the hurt. “Congrats.”

And with that, Ellie walks away head low. Your throat tightens, and this massive wave of unease settles at the pit of your stomach. Your eyes fall to the diamond ring on your finger, and it feels almost too much to bear.

It's been three weeks since you and Calum dropped the engagement bomb on your friends over dinner. Or at least, Calum did the dropping. You wanted to wait a few more weeks, maybe even months.

You care a lot about Calum; he's sweet, kind, and handsome. However, you can't shake the feeling that things are moving too fast. You both met at university around a year ago, and you’re both in your early twenties, trying to figure this whole thing out.

Then, last month, he got down on one knee at dinner, in front of your parents, and popped the magic question,

"—Do you want to marry him?"

Your mind goes blank, and you glance over to Ellie, who's fixedly staring at the TV.

"What?"

Ellie licks her lips, and you observe her swallowing a thought.

This is the first time in weeks you've heard Ellie speak to you in a complete sentence. You've been roommates for three years, and not hearing her voice was admittedly torture. Lately, she's been distant and awkward, responding with the occasional "yeah," "yes," "I don't know."

You practically invited yourself onto the couch tonight, and now she's talking to you; things are starting to look up for once, you think to yourself.l

"Do you want to marry Calum...?" Ellie turns her head toward you, but her eyes are still low. She holds her pointer and middle finger, a nervous tick you've noticed over the years.

You take a moment. "I…" When you try to speak and say yes, the words get stuck in your throat. You close your lips and swallow. "I don't know...."

Saying this, a wave of shame hits you, and you bite back the guilt, but you feel it spreading to your throat, crawling toward the surface. "W-Why do you ask?"

Ellie shakes her head, hesitating. “I…just.” Her lips tremble, and you watch as she goes through the motions before finally saying, "Don't go."

It's almost like your world stops, and in tunnel vision, it's only Ellie.

You lean forward, placing your hand on top of hers. "Ellie, I—"

The front door snaps open; your fiancé, Calum, stumbles in. You sit up, partially alarmed but equally annoyed that you had given him a key a while back.

"Helloooooo!” He slams the door shut and stumbles further into the apartment. "Man, people don't know how to drive," Calum slurs his words. "Fuckin amateurs…"

Ellie's lips turn into a straight line, and she swipes at her eyes.

"You drove here drunk?"

Calum makes a face. "No, Jesus, Y/N. Relax, I just had a few drinks with the boys."

Calum turns towards your bedroom in a sway. He's drunk, too drunk as you watch him steady himself along the walls.

Ellie stands up and mumbles something along the lines of, "I got homework tonight," and shuffles awkwardly into her room.

"Ellie?" But it's too late as her room door closes.

Calum is at your front door, and he laughs. "What crawled in her pants?"

If you could throw daggers with your eyes, Calum would be obliterated.

It’s another two weeks, and your mind still wonders about what Ellie had meant when she said, “Don’t go.” You practically drive yourself mad, but every time you try to bring it up, Ellie is either too tired to talk, or you're working a shift, or Ellie is at basketball practice or with Dina and Jesse.

Speaking of Dina and Jesse, you've noticed your spot in the group has shrunk; the trio tends to hang out more, leaving you with Calum.

Most importantly, you've observed Dina and Ellie becoming exceptionally close.

Dina has been at your apartment more frequently; you hear the giggles in Ellie’s room when Dina stays the night. And you love Dina; you truly do, but you can't help but feel a bit jealous of this whole ordeal; after all, Ellie is your best friend. But this jealousy is more; it's different…

“Hey.”

You say the word so sharply it could cut ice. You watch as Ellie exits the bathroom, towel drying her hair.

She looks around at the empty apartment, “Hey?”

Every thought in your head scrambles to make its way first to your lips. “You’ve been avoiding me.” You don’t mean to sound accusatory, but you've simply had enough; you miss your best friend, your Ellie.

Ellie chews on the inside of her cheek. “Have I?” She continues walking forward towards her bedroom. But you stop her, grabbing her arm.

“Stop.”

Ellie turns to you, cheeks hot.

Your chest thumps at her wet hair sticking to her face, the messiness of it all. The rosiness of her cheeks, the freckles that decorate her face. The visible skin of her waist, the water droplets rolling off, as she only wears her sports bra and a pair of baggy shorts. You notice the waistband sticking out underneath.

You shake the thought licking at your lips, “What did you mean by ‘don’t go?’”

You remove your hand.

Ellie rocks on her heels. “Are we still talking about this?”

You cross your arms. “Yes.” You swipe at your eyes. “Please.”

Ellie thinks for a moment, trying to find the words. “I just don’t think… Calum is the right person for you.” Ellie raises her eyes slowly, expecting a fight. “Okay?”

You take a breath. “And who would be my right person?”

Ellie pauses, her gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips. The heat rises in her cheeks, and her chest pounds so loudly that she wonders if you can hear it. Clamminess creeps into her palms, and the thought of passing out on the spot crosses her mind, but this might be her only chance to keep you,

"me."

A part of you wants to respond with "no" or "we're just friends; I have a fiancé," yet that part of yourself is rendered null as Ellie stands before you.

The other part screams, a surge of joy, jitters, and emotions. It’s almost a sigh of relief – the feeling you’ve harbored for years now reciprocated.

“Y/N,?” Ellie looks at you, concerned, but you reach forward.

“Shut up,” Holding her face between your hands, your lips meet in a feverish kiss. It’s every bit of love that has been locked away for years, pouring out.

The next thing you know, you're stumbling back towards her bedroom, hands moving, touching, and grabbing each other's skin. In the process, your lips move in unison. It’s messy, but it’s everything you could ever imagine it to be. Ellie kisses with a sense of authority and power, she’s obviously well mastered in the art.

Her tounge slides at your bottom and you gasp just as her muscular arms flex, and lift you onto her hips, “Fuck.”

You're even more impressed as she carries you to her bedroom.

Her foot slamming the door shut behind you.

[whalesforhands]

side story i: injuries and patch-ups (satosugu x reader)

warnings: fantasy au, VERY suggestive, ultimately fluff, just geto having dirty thoughts, gojo being cute bcs i think he is, helping with their injuries after the dynamic duo fight each other (ft. shoko) 👍

“Hurrrrryyyy uppppppp!”

Gojo Satoru doesn’t like waiting. Not when he’s been cut, minor slashes all across his torso and upper body, his shirt off to better add the dramatics to how much pain he’s in.

“Satoru, Shoko is coming back with tweezers in a while… Please be patient.” You feel bad for him, you really do. But you can’t exactly help the poor man, leaving only a consoling pat to his head before turning your back on him.

His frown grows ever bigger as he crosses his arms, wincing at the pricks that dig further in.

He would have been clinging onto you, his hands around your waist and chin upon your shoulder from behind as he watched you mash up balsam from plants his cheek pressed into the skin of your neck had it not been for the fact that he was also covered in jumping cholla, the palm-sized balls of cacti clung to every part of his exposed skin, a byproduct of wrestling Suguru gone wrong.

He’s upset. You can’t touch him, can’t come near him. And all he can do it sit, pout and wait as you help Suguru first, all cute and sitting on his lap as you rub the ointment all over the admittedly, beautiful man’s bare chest, feeling up those stupidly prominent muscles of his abdomen and thick, burly arms as he sat there with an even stupider smile, pretty hair all over those broad shoulders that—

Yeah, he’s too upset. And his pout and puffed up cheeks that grew even bigger with his irritation showed that.

Geto Suguru is a very patient man. He would’ve been fine to have you deal with the pouty sorcerer first, would’ve been fine if you had him wait in favour of helping Satoru first. He’s used to it, likes seeing the look of relief on said man’s face when he’s finally out of pain, gleefully smiling towards the man once again as he hurriedly ushers Shoko to patch him up too.

He just isn’t used to it when you start fussing over both of them equally.

“How did you both get yourself like this?!”

“Sit, sit!” You’re ushering them both in, undoing their vests, unbuttoning their coats with almost zero precaution of the potential harm you might bring to yourself.

Very much unlike Shoko’s blank look-overs at their wounds.

“You’re both idiots.” She’s looking over her medkit tools before she sighs, a hand on her forehead before she turns to you, sinking into your arms in tiredness as Satoru lets out a whine at the sight.

“I’m still injured here!” He’s tapping his foot against the ground impatiently. “I wanna be consoled too!”

It’s the middle of the night, they’re both within your tent, Shoko is gone for a while, you’re dressed down in your nightclothes that are unbearably thin and you’re… Sitting upon his lap, practically straddling him as you gently clean his cuts.

(Not that he’s complaining. He’s elated.)

You are, however, testing him. The curves of your body highlighted by the shadows of the dim light, the concentrated stare on your pretty face. You don’t even flinch when he moves a hand to tuck back a strand of your stray locks, only smiling at him as you continue your work.

How precious.

He’s in two minds. Not sure whether he would prefer you to be atop of him, your body twitching as you watch him with a cute pout, your hips slamming down to take all of him in as his grip on them grows stronger, tighter— He does quite like a challenge.

Or would he like it better if he was the one controlling your pleasure, holding you down whilst your legs are wrapped around his waist. Your cries spilling into his ear as he continues to kiss up your neck, itchy hands groping at your chest.

Perhaps it would be the best if Satoru was also involved. The man’s loud voice would finally be put to good use as he laid atop of you, buried in you till the hilt as Suguru mounts behind him, atop both of you as he watches just how pliant you both could be underneath him before he decides what sort of reward you both deserve.

He snaps out of the daze when he hears the rustle of the tent entrance, Shoko making her back in, adorned with a pair of gloves and a comically large pair of tweezers in her hand.

“You asked for this.” The metal tool is clanking in her hand as a shine of mischief glitters in her gaze, her voice an impish drawl.

“I’ll be sure to make sure you’re all healed up, Satoru.” The menacing tone had yet to relent.

——

Gojo Satoru is now very upset as Shoko bandages him up, watching as you attempted to get up from your position still upon Suguru’s lap, only for that raven-haired idiot’s hands to drag you back down, a furrow forming between his brows, as his lips begin to mouth words of disapproval, only for your smile to only simply take on a confused look.

Gojo Satoru does not know if he wants to strangle you both, or join in. It’s most probably the latter. Probably. He just wants you both to shower him in some of that affection too.

“You’re good to go.” Shoko’s steady, bored tone of voice falters as she lets out a yawn, removing her gloves as her closing eyes zero in on your bedroll.

“Don’t make too much noise…” Were her final words before she collapsed onto the soft material, knocking out instantaneously as she made herself comfortable.

Good. Just what he wanted to hear. He’s making his way towards the both of you, towering his height over both of your sitting forms before plopping himself right next to Suguru, dropping his head on his teammate’s shoulder as he pouts.

He wants attention too. And you both better be prepared to give him some. Get the hint already.

It isn’t long before he feels hands pat at his bandages, fingers gently trailing them and leaving a slight shiver to his spine despite the warmth within the tent.

“Feeling better?” It’s your lovely voice that he hears first.

“He definitely looks a lot better, if he can pout like that.” Now he’s annoyed again, he closes his eyes, simply resting against the man he was just roughhousing with earlier over… Some dumb reason even he doesn’t remember.

There’s a shift, a rustle of fabric that his ears barely catch, before he feels his once empty side fill with a warmth.

“You look cold.” Your side is pressed against his own, getting in close to help him preserve warmth. (You seem to be helping a lot, it seems. His eyes are tinging red, his forehead turned inward more to bury it onto Suguru’s shoulder.)

He’s still not replying. Is this because you neglected him earlier? Your eyes flicker to meet placid purple, before they go back to the back of Satoru’s white hair.

Injuries… Suguru did mention that this white-haired menace likes being fawned over.

“Would you talk to me if… I kiss your injuries better?” A beat passes. And another. You can swear that even his neck was growing red as a giggle escapes your lips.

…

“Yeah.” His blushing face is lifted up and immediately turned to face yours as he swallows. Hard. “Do it.”

masterlist

Notes:

“You missed a spot.” Gojo’s practically glowing, a pleasant tune being hummed as you kiss the bandages on his forearm. Your lips pull back slightly, moving up as you leave another by his upper arm.

“Can you do my shoulder too?” His tone is extremely jolly, expectant, excited. You relent, bestowing another chaste kiss to his shoulder.

You kind of regret offering him this now.

Shoko awoke to 3 people piled atop of her. She does not dare to move or twitch a muscle in fear that you wake up.

She does, however, attempt to kick at the other 2 to wake them up in order to kick them out of your tent. It’s hard, since Satoru has made himself the main star by resting his head atop your stomach, whilst Suguru was on his side, huddling everyone into him with an arm stretched over your waists. (And Satoru’s snoring face.)

Breakfast was taken really late that day.

[judasgot-it]

I was originally going to upload this as part of an ask I got but I feel like I got carried away, so I decided to upload this separately. I'll upload it eventually, it's literally been 6 months I'm so sorry bro.

1.5 k words

Scenario: Grocery shopping date with Tecchou

Admittedly Tecchou was sometimes a bit boring. At least that's what he was told. He was just a man who enjoyed those simple things in life.

Like watching ants on the ground. For 8 hours. Call it weird and boring, although that's just how Tecchou preferred to spend some of his work hours.

He was getting paid for it.

Or his lunch. Usually, it was just something plain, like mashed potatoes and vanilla yogurt. Maybe some mayonnaise if he felt fancy.

If it's left up to him, it's whatever he can he really finds himself thinking up of on the spot.

His dates with you usually went the same way. If he could, he would sleep in every day and get takeout - maybe do laundry and watch an old movie the two of you never had the chance to see because of his job.

Like right now? It was just grocery shopping. Maybe it was boring. Run of the mill, even.

But it was miles better than dying on the battlefield. Walking boring plain tiles were better than stepping over dead bodies. So, today was a complete win for him.

It was all pushing the grocery cart and debating the price of bagels today - the perfect ideal in his world. Seeing you check off your list with a smile, then walking back across the store because you forgot something was the best thing he could imagine doing on his day off.

There wasn't any rush. With you - he could pretend that the price of bagels was the most important thing in his life. He could pretend that he actually cared about picking up dish soap or not.

You were safe. The two of you were walking side by side, with no danger anywhere in sight.

He really felt no need to run anywhere.

This was a perfect date. An ideal one, if there were anything like that out there.

Of course, life sometimes doesn't go his way, and he's forced to deal with something out of one of the circles of hell.

The fucking return counter.

He had no problem public speaking. It was a big part of his job after all - but by god did he hate it when it came to the mundane.

Why does he have to download the store app? Why do only some of his coupons work and others don't? Why is there no tag on the item he specifically came to the store to buy, the only brand of peanut butter he could seem to find in this part of Yokohama?

Tecchou isn't one to complain, he understands the meanings of law and order very well - he is an officer, after all. But sometimes, every once and a while, he will find himself stuck in the position of what an ordinary man's hell is like.

Peanut butter and discount items. The ordinary.

Today that hell is spent with you at the return counter, waiting for them to find the correct price of his goddamn peanut butter because no one is paying an extra 3 dollars for that.

Luckily, you were there with him, so today's hell was quite bearable.

"When we get back home, what movie do you want to watch?"

Tecchou turned to you, broken out of his thoughts.

You were rummaging through the bags on his arms, looking for the snacks the two of you had bought. Not fair, since Tecchou still had to wait for his peanut butter thanks to the hell that was this store.

How could it even be called a convenience store? What was this lady doing? She had spent forever looking for the price.

"I don't know. Wasn't there a movie you wanted to watch?"

There was a scoff as you looked up at him.

"That's not fair, I picked last time."

You were cute as you pouted out your lip, acting as if he were an insolent child.

"I don't really care what we watch. Spending time with you is what's important."

If Tecchou could, he would rather stare at you all day. Even if you'd rather hide behind your hair or stare at down at your hands. Was there something catching your eye?

"Right. Well uh..."

You looked away completely, staring off somewhere towards the floor. He tried to follow your eyes, seeing what you were looking at.

Maybe it was a cool bug he hadn't noticed.

"Sir, I fixed the price."

Finally.

He looked to the counter to get his peanut butter. Although, as he tried to grab it, the girl held it back. Her nails grazed his skin, the texture making him want to vomit.

What?

"I'm gonna need something from you before I give this to you, actually."

Tecchou looked back at you, and then back at the lady at the counter.

"I already paid?"

"Oh, I know."

He stared at her.

"And?"

She giggled, looking him up and down. Whatever she was on, it had to be illegal because this was just stupid.

"I want your number, hottie." She winked, her fingers grazing the top of the peanut butter cap. Somewhere in the back of the store, Tecchou heard the normal sounds of groceries being bagged and checked out - a sound he was jealous of for once in his life.

This question felt like a riddle of some sort. 

"How did you know I was in the military?" 

He hadn't worn anything showing he was in the hunting dogs whatsoever, which made him rather concerned - why would a civilian ask for his service number? He didn't even have his sword visible on his person, so how would someone like a store clerk know to ask that question?

All he recieved back was a blank stare. 

"Um. I think we should go now. Thanks for fixing my boyfriends peanut butter."

You saved the conversation, grabbing the peanut butter gruffly and shoving it in the bag. Tecchou couldn't see your face still, but as you grabbed his hand, he felt how iron tight your grip was - your skin changing shades as you tightened your hold on him.

With unhurried steps, followed your quicker ones out the doors - the sound barely registering as you nearly rushed away from the building in a sprint, as if seeing a ghost. 

Your back stayed against him, brushing against his shoulder every once and a while as he struggled to keep pace with you and your uneven movements.

"Babe."

He gently shook the arm you had held, trying to get your attention. It forced you to stop, but you were still avoidant, staring anywhere but at him - your eyes hidden by the shadows of the now blue hour of the winter. 

Tecchou pulled you hand closer, seeing how the air that blew out of your mouth condensed into a thick fog, your hand quickly losing its squishy warmth and turning as cold as the air surrounding the two of you.

"What's wrong?"

You shook your head, a whine whistling through your throat. Tecchou watched as you laid your entire body against his, feeling your body weight smack against his. He didn't complain, simply wrapping his free arm against your shoulders, pulling you closer.

"Tecchou, did you realize she was flirting with you?"

"Who?"

That broke some invisible dam inside of you, as you broke down, laughing so loud it almost sounded like a sob. You were holding onto him for support, your knees nearly buckling underneath you.

Tecchou tried his best to wait it out, holding onto you as you caused a small wet stain on his coat. He was almost concerned, seeing you breakdown over nothing so quickly. Before he could even open his mouth to ask if you were ok, you cut him off, more serious than ever.

"You didn't know that store clerk was flirting with you, right?"

Straight into the eyes you looked at him, gripping on the coat around his waist and feeling for his sword there. Almost like a threat.

Smiling, he shook his head, carefully taking your hands away from his sword. He didn't want any chances.

"No. I was more concerned about how she knew I'm a hunting dogs member. Do you think she might be a threat, possibly? Normal civilians shouldn't be able to notice those things."

Tecchou rested his head against yours, rubbing his hands up against your shoulders as he stayed deep in thought. Your hands climbed around to fall against the small of his back, Tecchou feeling as your smaller hands pressed his coat against his skin.

It made him feel warm. Even as he felt you continue to giggle, your warm breaths fanning against his throat as he tried to decode who that clerk was - your body pressed against his, your days groceries knocking between your thighs.

It made him feel a sort of domestic warmth, creeping a smile against his face.

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 2: #78866B

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

[I sacrificed Damian's POV for more time of Jazz, and everything jumps around a little, but I refuse to feel regret. Notes on the timeline are at the bottom.]

-

Two hours went by way faster than Jazz thought. Between gathering the emergency bags, counting cash, and raiding the lab, she barely managed to herd her parents out the front door on time. Luckily, the two doctors didn't put up a fight, so she still had ten minutes to lock up. Like she said, Jazz hadn't touched the portal besides locking it down. The portal's power supply had been re-routed to an emergency shield, blocking anything from getting in or out. As long as it was still on, that shield would hold.

Jazz blew a strand of hair out of her face as she sat on the front porch for a moment. The door was locked, she had everything, and her parents were waiting like scared kids for her a few feet away. All she had to do was arm the security system using the bug Tucker had sent her. It was relatively easy; she had to take off the casing to the alarm next to their doorbell and use a connector to plug her phone in. It took her a moment, admittedly. It wasn't easy to mash tiny buttons when her hands shook with adrenaline.

While she waited for the virus to load, Jazz glanced at her parents, watching them. They looked lost. A little guilty, perhaps? They both looked gaunt and had unshed tears in their eyes, looking positively miserable for all the world to see. They hadn't said a peep after she had stormed off. Not even when she came back to clamp 'Shade Shackles' onto their wrists, hissing something to them about behaving. The shackles were heavy and bulky, restricting them from their wrists to their elbows and locking their arms together.

The shackles wouldn't hold Jack for long, she knew. Not if he was actually trying to escape. But honestly, the man was probably worse off than his wife. He just kept staring into space, dissociating.

Jazz thought they deserved it. After a few more seconds of fiddling, her phone finally beeped, indicating the upload was complete. She unplugged her phone, packed the cord into one of her bags, and stood again to close the alarm casing. Shutters slammed shut over every entrance into Fentonworks. Maddie flinched at the loud noise.

"And now," Jazz muttered, picking up her bat. "We can't go back." The redhead swung like a professional, slamming her weapon into the alarm, setting it off like a loud pig. She took her anger out on the plastic, smashing the buttons and hardware to bits, sending wires flying. Even the brick beneath the alarm was chipped in many places. Well, if there was one thing her parents did right, it was make a decent bat. The creep stick didn't have a scratch when she finally stepped back.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Jazz took in her handiwork. Getting some extra aggression out of her system slightly cleared her head, and she smiled at the ruined building. The alarm was going off at max volume, and some of the floodlights her parents had installed a few years ago lit up the whole neighborhood with flashing red. If the Fentons hadn't had people’s attention before, they sure as hell did now.

"What'd you do that for?" Maddie said, horrified. Guess she was breaking her silence.

Jazz scoffed, turning to pick her bags up and sling them over one shoulder. "Because while I'd love to burn this place to the fucking ground-"

"You can't!"

"Shut up. It's not up to you, Maddie." Jazz spat. "And it's not up to me. Danny gets to decide what happens to Fentonworks. Whether you like it or not, this is his final resting place. I'm not going to rob him of closure."

Maddie snapped her mouth shut.

"Final resting place?" Jack finally returned to himself as he cried at his daughter's words. Thick tears dripped down his face. Jazz had never seen her father so distraught, not even when Vlad moved away to Europe last year. He looked heartbroken.

Jazz sneered, poking her father in the chest with her bat. "You heard me. That fucking portal, your goddamn pride and joy, is what got Danny killed in the first place. That lab is where he died in front of his friends because you two are idiots who refuse to follow any sort of rule."

"No, that's not-"

"Not what?" Jazz rounded on her mother, who shrunk back in the face of her fury. "Not right? That's not what happened? Is that what you were going to say?"

They were attracting a crowd. People were being drawn out of their houses by the alarms and shouting, staring at the two Fenton parents with mild distaste. Everyone knew their children put up with a lot, even if the doctors were well-meaning. Did they finally cross the line?

"It was hard for us too!" Maddie insisted. "All those late nights, his avoidance of us, how he looked at us! It was horrible."

"THAT'S BECAUSE YOU KILLED HIM!" Jazz roared. She was as red as her hair now, and the little ectoplasm that ran in her veins made the edges of her form blurry. As if she was a heat mirage. "YOU KILLED HIM, AND NOW YOU'RE KILLING HIM AGAIN BY HANDING HIM TO THE GHOST INVESTIGATION WARD!"

"Th-they just wanted to study him," Jack sobbed. "T-to avoid and prevent any ghost disease breakouts."

"BULLSHIT!" Her voice echoed down the street. It boomed unnaturally, drowning out the sound of sirens that were a few blocks away. A few neighbors were going pale as they realized the severity of the situation. "You two are doctors! You know how science works! You two built and sold weapons to them! Don't pretend to be ignorant and blame it on the fucking ghost flu."

"You disgust me," Jazz continued. She descended the steps and shoved past her parents. Maddie landed on the ground with an oof! "I hope I never have to see you two ever again." She adjusted her bags and started marching toward Nasty Burger, cutting through the crowd like she was fucking Moses. The police were a block away now. She didn't want to be there when they got to the house.

"Where are you going?" Her mother called. Pleaded, really. "We can talk this out!"

Jazz ignored her calls and walked on. When they spotted the murderous look in her eyes, everyone on the sidewalks quickly got out of her way. She had two minutes now, but the others probably wouldn't mind her tardiness. Her phone buzzed, and she snapped it open.

From: TheFuck

4:12pm yo ms evie just blasted ur rant 2 myspace and yt

4:13pm for an old lady she sure has quick fingers

4:13pm dani just showed up at nb we just waitin on u

Rather than replying, Jazz pushed the door to Nasty Burger open and beelined towards the trio's usual table. Tucker was glued to his phone while Sam and Dani mumbled, pouring over several sheets of paper. She tapped Tucker on the head, making him jump.

"I'm already here."

Tucker spun around. "Nocturn's starry underwear, Jazz!" He whined. "You could have just texted me!"

"Didn't feel like it," she shrugged, suddenly feeling very tired. The restaurant was mostly empty, so she threw her stuff into the booth beside them and slid in next to Tucker. The Fenton creep-stick was rested against the edge of the table, acting as a warning. The others had already set aside their bags and weapons in the other booth. Not a single Nasty Burger employee came over to tell them they couldn't have swords at the table, so Jazz didn't bother thinking about it.

Danielle, her free-spirited youngest sister, glanced up at her with a weary smile. She looked rough. The wind had tangled her shorter hair, and her clothes seemed horribly displaced and damp. (She'd passed through a tropical storm half an hour ago.) Dani was swaying where she sat, desperately trying to stay engaged with Sam even though exhaustion was no doubt clawing at her mind.

Jazz felt her mood soften. Sometimes, she had to remind herself that Dani was only a few years old by human and ghost standards. While Danny was also a baby ghost, he had a lot more stamina as a human to make up for it. Flying from New Zealand had taken its toll on the girl.

"Here, Danielle, switch me." Jazz stepped out of the booth, guiding her little sister to sit next to Tucker, who wouldn't mind if the girl fell asleep on his shoulder. Dani didn't protest and conked out almost immediately, soft snores being the only indication she was alive. Sam nodded her greeting and shuffled some papers Jazz's way.

"Here's everything so far," she stated. "We're doing this on paper until Tucker can set up a server."

Jazz flipped through the pages. Each one had a little tab in the corner sticking out so things wouldn't get mixed up. The pages were even color coordinated, just how she liked it. She scanned through sheets of numbers, reports on agent activity, stolen research, manufacturing contracts, and so on. Everything she saw was dated back at least a year, and Sam had taken the time to highlight the discrepancies between all the paperwork. It was the very definition of thorough.

Time for business, I guess, she thought. "To start with, how's the town?"

Tucker got right into it. He turned his PDA around to show her the screen. A tiny map of the town was displayed, with red dots pinned to random spots. "All the monoliths Danny set up are primed and ready. They'll tap into the ley lines in the area to power the ghost shield we set up. I'll set it off when we leave the city borders."

"I called Cujo and Wulf," Sam added. She had a paper version of the town map with more random spots marked in green. "They are rounding up the ghost animals, and I got Grandma Ida to scare a few more human ones into helping. Some of the A-listers are doing a sweep to drive out anyone who stays behind."

"What about the GIW equipment?"

"Dash is getting his football and baseball teams together. Wes is going to load them with a virus before they smash it all to bits."

"Teenage boys are always destructive no matter the species." Jazz remarked dryly. Sam gave her a Look, but she ignored it. Yeah, she was being hypocritical. Who cared? "How's the tracking going?"

Tucker patted the sleeping Danielle on her head. "Thanks to a little miss, I got a lock on his ecto-signature much faster this time. But his aura is big, and we'll still need to raid at least four locations before I can pinpoint him."

Jazz sighed in relief, tilting her head back. Everything was falling into place, and soon, Danny would be safe by her side.

-

Danny woke up with a knife in his chest.

He choked, breathing in the air for the first time in a while. He couldn't feel a heartbeat, but the knife was too close to his core. It was too close to his fractured core. The weapon twisted, digging itself deeper, and he screamed silently in fear. His limbs spasmed, knocking into whoever was standing over him and throwing them across the room with a thud.

Free of the pressing weight, Danny rolled to the side, dropping to the floor and scrabbling at the knife still in his chest. Fabric was tangled with his legs, making it difficult to stand. Had he been placed in a bed? He jerked the knife out, letting it clatter to the ground.

Danny keened as precious ectoplasm leaked from his chest. From his core. Flaps of skin that hadn't healed yet tore back open, ripping fresh scabs and making him lightheaded. Half-formed organs were trying to slip free of his body, and he could barely scoop them back in. His fingers felt thick, and the task seemed endless. What if his core slipped out? How would he know? Could he catch it?

Was this how Dani felt when she was melting? He briefly wondered. A sob tore its way out of his throat. God, everything hurt so much. He tried to inhale, to breathe through the panic attack, but his lungs were either shriveled from disuse or missing. He couldn't breathe. Oh god, he couldn't breathe. The fabric felt like shackles against his legs, stiffing and trapping him further as ice crept through the room. He couldn't feel his lungs, he couldn't feel his heart, he couldn't feel his core. His core was here; he knew it. Where was it? Where was his soul?

Danny curled in on himself, letting go of his skin in favor of shoving a hand into his chest, searching for his tiny core amongst all the ectoplasm and body parts. It was like trying to find a ping pong ball in a pool of Oobleck. The base of his head felt heavy, and he just wanted to cry even more than he already was.

where is it where is it where is it

His body shuddered as Danny started folding in on himself. The heavy feeling got worse. Bones slipped from his joints and pressed oddly against his skin, making it poke out in strange positions. He screwed his eyes further shut as he kept reaching past his ribs. His fingers were ice cold and sent shocks up his spine, making him spasm again. Flimsy organs were slipping past his arm; he tried not to pierce them as they landed back onto the floor with an ugly splat.

Danny kept crying, even as he felt the tips of his fingers finally brush his core. It was ice cold, colder than his skin. He could feel a deep crack in the surface, and he mourned for himself as he pulled his arm back out of his body. He wanted to scream so bad. To yell. To wail. To call for his family and friends and heal in his haunt surrounded by love.

But he didn't have any of that right now. His parents had given him away to the GIW, saying he just needed help, that he just needed to be fixed. That he needed healing. His haunt wasn't safe anymore, and Sam and Tucker had to stay behind to protect the other ghosts. Jazz wasn't even home the last time he checked. And now he was somewhere new, having a meltdown as he lost more blood than he cared to think about. He felt so goopy.

Danny's ears twitched as footsteps rushed towards his room. Was he underground? Everything was echoing. The person he'd tossed sat patiently against the far wall, probably staring at the mess he'd made. He was still whining in a high-pitched kind of way, which was his version of a ghost sob. The door burst open, making him flinch, but he was too weak to defend himself with ice. Danny could only lay there and try to pull himself back together.

-

"The boy is awake."

One of Ra's messengers bowed deeply to him, eyes cast to the floor. The papers he'd been going over were forgotten as he shoved them aside and focused on the messenger.

"I heard he was not due to wake until his organs regrew." Ra's commented lightly.

The messenger's frame tightened up a fraction. "The Demon's Thumb has returned," they intoned. "And has decided to greet the new Demon's Heir."

Ra's hummed, standing up. "I suppose I should have expected this. News does travel quite fast these days." He gestured for the messenger to lead the way, and they stood to do so. The walk from his main office to the medical wing was short as more of his retainers gathered around him. Dr. Vanessa, a thin woman with a vicious fire in her eyes, rushed to join his little circle as they passed the research hall.

"I apologize, sir." She seemed harried, if not a little ticked off. "My calculations must have been off. I-"

"It was not your fault, doctor." Ra's cut her off. "My granddaughter seems to have stopped by for a visit and wanted to pay her respects to the new heir, it seems."

"Ah." Dr. Vanessa's anger at herself vanished, and her face was carefully blank. "In that case, I shall adjust the boy's treatment plan accordingly."

They said nothing else as they approached the boy's room, admittedly at a quick pace. The bind around Ra's heart was urging him forward, to be faster and be by the boy's side when he awoke. The mere knowledge that the boy was in danger made his blood boil as his body revolted against this mind. By the heavens, he couldn't wait for this contract to be fulfilled. He hated magic so much.

Turning the final corner, a loud, keening cry assaulted everyone's ears. Dr. Vanessa flinched. A few guards pulled out their weapons, adopting a more defensive position. Ra's could barely stop himself from rushing through the group during the last few steps. He grits his teeth as another opens the door.

They were treated to the sight of a frost-covered room. The boy was on the floor, tangled in his blankets as he tried to shove unfinished organs, which was a gaping hole that led to nothing. Lazarus water was leaking from his body in copious amounts. His skin was practically translucent, and Ra's could spy his bones shifting unnaturally underneath it all, creating strange angles and planes that did not belong to a human. The boy's eyes were screwed shut, and he was crying even more Lazarus water, but Ra's would bet that his eyes were glowing that same bright green. The keening noise seemed to be coming from him, even though his mouth was shut tight.

Ra's glanced around again. A knife was on the floor next to the boy's head, covered in his blood. Mara al Ghul, his granddaughter and leader of the Demon's Fist, was sitting against the far wall with thick sheets of ice covering her from the neck down, trapping her in place. She was still wearing her mask, so Ra's couldn't see her face, but he knew she wasn't happy. Foolish girl.

Dr. Vanessa glanced at him. "May I approach the patient?" She asked. Ra's nodded his approval, and she cautiously stepped forward, trying to avoid the puddles of bodily fluids.

The doctor knelt, and she adopted a soft look to soothe the boy. "Hello, young man." Her voice dripped with honey. She reached out to tap the boy on his shoulder. "My name is Dr. Vanessa, and I'm-" She got cut off as soon as she made contact. A flash of light blinded everyone, and suddenly, Vanessa was encased with ice. She was essentially a statue now, still with a sweet look on her face.

Interesting. Ra's thought. One of his attendants moved the frozen doctor out of the way so he could walk forward, stopping right at the edge of the Lazarus water.

"Boy," he ordered. "Listen."

The boy's cry petered off at the sound of a human voice and he cracked his eyes open, staring straight at Ra's unblinkingly. He warbled something in a language that grated on everyone's minds. Ra's understood him, though, and switched tongues as easily as he would clothes.

"Boy," he repeated. His voice cracked, and Ra's could feel his granddaughter's burning questions engraved into his back. No one had heard him speak like this before. However, the boy finally opened both eyes wide, which he counted as a win. His interest was piqued. "Boy, listen to me."

The boy's mouth didn't move as he replied, "Hurts..."

"I know. But you are hurting others, and hurting yourself. Let us help."

The boy shivered. "Hurts. Can't. Pain."

"My people will not harm you," Ra's promised. The weight of the promise hung in the air like a bird, and the boy's eyes widened. Making promises in the tongue of the dead was a serious thing. "Calm yourself, and let us help you into bed. You are losing lifeblood. We cannot help if you freeze my people."

A humorless laugh was his reply. "Already dead." The boy informed him. "Almost dead again. It hurts. Please?"

Ra's motioned for the assassins to pick the boy up. He squeezed his eyes shut as hands touched his body but relaxed as one of them handed him his liver like it was a stuffed toy. The ice in the room started melting, releasing the two ladies from their bonds. The attending nurse quickly got to work collecting all the extra things that had fallen out of his body and placing them gently back inside the boy's gaping chest like he was playing Operation.

Once he was situated with all his goopy organs back in his body, the boy tried apologizing to Mara and Vanessa. "Sorry for the cold." He rasped.

Mara glanced at her grandfather, who didn't bother to translate. "I will be informing Mother Soul of this development," she said stiffly before turning and marching out of the room, two assassins at her heel. Dr. Vanessa was likewise escorted out to be taken care of.

Ra's stepped closer to the boy's bed. He didn't pay any mind to the blood, Lazarus goop, and now melting ice that stained his robes; they could be replaced. But he needed answers. He needed to figure out how to get out of this deal with the Gardener. And he needed to know how much power one child could offer him.

"Child." The boy looked lazily up at him. The effort of being awake was taking its toll. "I am Ra's al Ghul, the leader here. May I have your name?"

"Mmm." Some of the boy's bones shifted as he wiggled around, trying to relieve the weird pressure pressing against his skin. Ra's reckoned his whole skeleton might be out of place. "Call me Phantom," he eventually hummed.

Ra's knew that wasn't the boy's true name, but he'd work with it for now. He simply inclined his head in acknowledgment, watching as Phantom started nodding back off to sleep. Oh dear. He couldn't let him rest yet; Ra's needed answers.

"Do you know why you are here, Phantom?"

The boy licked his cracked lips, but still couldn't use his voice. His words were just echoing into the air like he was projecting his thoughts for everyone to hear. "No..."

"You were given to me. By a being who called themselves the Gardener. I am to take care of you."

"In exchange for what?" Phantom was struggling to stay awake. But he instantly caught onto the double meaning, which proved he had a brain somewhere.

Ra's considered his words. "Power," he said simply. "I care for you as if you were my own, and in exchange, you would be the key to granting unimaginable power and knowledge."

Phantom wrinkled his nose but seemed to accept that answer. "Undergrowth is so shady sometimes. But I'll acknowledge the deal between you two. Let me take a quick nap, and then you can let me know what you need..." He trailed off as sleep finally claimed him.

The Demon's Head wasn't pleased that the conversation was cut short, but the bind around his heart had loosened its noose, and he felt it was unavoidable. Now that his foolish granddaughter was out of the way, he would leave and return later. Phantom, while boyish in nature, seemed quite mature once he was lucid enough to talk. Perhaps Ra's wouldn't regret making him the Heir.

-

Jazz was getting antsy. It had been weeks, and they still hadn't found Danny. Raiding GIW bases with just the four of them took a toll on the group, especially since they kept losing supplies (like her beloved creep-stick, RIP). A few times, Danielle had to fly off and keep the peace in other cities, as the ghosts were finding different ways into the mortal realm now that Amity was shut off from the world. She'd taken up Danny's name as Phantom and was exhausted from flying across the country constantly. So, really, it was mostly the three of them.

Luckily, Kitty and Johnny showed up recently, and Dani got them to spread the word about Danny's disappearance and the group's country-wide manhunt. No ghosts had shown up since then.

"We're here," Tucker snapped her out of her thoughts, pulling her to an instant stop. This was one of the four bases Tucker had narrowed their search to. They'd destroyed the other three, gathering evidence and doing what was necessary to defeat the agents inside. And now they were standing in front of the final one, deep inside Yellowstone National Park. It looked like a rest stop with a bathroom, but Jazz knew that the compound was actually underground and most likely ten times the size of the shack.

Sam wrinkled her nose. "This place looks abandoned," She noticed. "At least the others had a front going on. I don't want to ride in a dirty bathroom that's really an elevator. I'd rather go back and fight those creepy clown performers from the pizza place."

"I can just phase us down." Danielle offered.

Jazz shook her head. "Nah, you need to save your energy, kiddo. Who knows how deep this one is."

Tucker crouched, fiddling with his PDA. "This spot does have a front," he told Sam. "It's a rare geocache spot. The only hint for it online that I can find is a shitty riddle that was posted, like, last week."

"Oh, what is it?"

"Uh, here. It says:

Below the keep, just six feet deep, lays a weathered path, born from wrath. A white beast rests, who troubles his guests, so find the key, and beware the banshee."

Danielle snorted. "You're right. That riddle sucks. Who wrote that? Skulker?"

Jazz smiled but considered the words seriously. "I mean, it seems pretty literal if you know the context behind it. Why not search for the cache and see if it has a key?"

"Good idea."

With that plan in mind, the four split up to scan the terrain. None of them had ever been geocaching before, but it was a popular tourist activity around Amity. It shouldn't be that hard, could it?

The answer was yes, it was. The group searched for an hour before Tucker finally gave in and sat on a log to take a break. The log promptly crumbled in half, and Tucker shouted in surprise as he landed ass-first on a hard tackle box.

"Oh, come on!" He groaned. "This log isn't even made of plastic! It's cardboard! Who makes a geocache out of cardboard?? It literally rained last night, my ass is wet now!"

Danielle giggled for the first time in weeks. Jazz ruffled her hair, earning a swat of protest, and then walked over to help Tucker to his feet. Sam swooped in to claim the first dibs on the box as soon as he was clear.

The lock was no issue for her as she simply bashed it open with a sharp rock. Sam seemed eager to find more clues and crowed triumphantly when she dug out a key card still attached to a GIW lanyard. "Fucking finally!"

"Good job, Sam." The four gathered around the tackle box. The card seemed legit, right down to the near-invisible security numbers engraved on the back. Their enhanced eyesight allowed them to spot that detail, which was a blessing when sniffing out fake leads.

Dani shot up excitedly. The fact that they were so close to finding Danny renewed the spark in her eyes. "I'll go look for the entrance!" She sped off, turning invisible to avoid any inside cameras. She found it within minutes, and returned to share the good news.

It was, indeed, in the tiny bathroom.

Sam groaned. "I need to learn to keep my mouth shut."

"I'm fine with that, honestly. You loud-mouthed mother-OW!" Tucker stumbled through the doorway to the bathroom, too slow to avoid the whack Sam had given him.

"That's 'loud-mouthed BITCH' to you," she scolded playfully.

The eldest shook her head and ignored them. The bathroom truly was tiny, and hadn't seen the loving touch of a mop in years. Spiders were making webs in the corners and Jazz was pretty sure something had been using the toilet as a litter box. It looked awful and smelled even worse. A smug look from Danielle told her that the girl had simply stopped breathing, and therefore didn't have to deal with the scent of actual bear shit.

She ignored Danielle, too. Jazz could feel her little sister's smugness radiating as they searched everywhere for the secret card scanner. Jazz couldn't stop her organs at will yet, and the twins always took full advantage of that to mess with her. They eventually figured out that the empty soap dispenser was what they were looking for, and the scanner beeped when they swiped the card. The whole room started to shake as they moved down.

Sam and Tucker stopped their petty back-and-forth as they heard the grinding of the elevator cable. "When was the last time this was used?" Tucker sounded alarmed.

"Probably when they built it." Sam grimaced at the sight of the dirty toilet water moving and pointedly moved to stare at the wall. "I want to set myself on fire right now. This is so gross."

"I'll hand you the match."

"I will douse you in gasoline, Tucker."

"Not the time, guys!" Jazz glanced at the ceiling, where she imagined the cable would connect. It squealed and screeched, but eventually, the world's worst elevator trip came to an end, and the one wall with nothing attached to it split open to reveal the pristine tunnel of a GIW facility. All four of them bolted for the hallway, and not just because they were eager to start trashing the place.

"Danny better fucking be here because I do not want to ride that thing ever again." Gasping, Sam rested her arms on her legs, breathing in stale, underground air. At least it didn't stink.

Danielle giggled again (that was twice now!!) and changed forms. "I'll go scout ahead," she informed them. Jazz bid her good luck before she faded from visibility. She wasn't too worried about the girl. Dani had her radio and knew to avoid GIW sensors as a ghost.

Tucker lay on the ground, staring into nothing while they waited. "My ass is still wet," he commented after a few moments of silence.

"No one needs to know that, Tucker."

"Too bad. I might get a rash from this. Did you know I ran out of underwear last week? I'm on my last pair, and now I'm gonna get a fucking diaper rash from them."

Sam gagged. "That's disgusting. Don't tell me this shit. I'm cursing your bloodline just for that."

"You gotta tell me these things," Jazz chided. "I would have gotten you a new set."

Tucker waved his arm in a 'whatever' motion. "Eh, honestly, it isn't that bad right now. I've done worse. Danny and I once tried to see how long we could go without showering or changing in middle school. I went two weeks before my parents hog-tied me and hosed me down in the front yard. Danny managed to go a full month before you did the same."

Realization struck Jazz and her eyes widened. "That's what that was about? Oh my god, he was yowling like a cat when I caught him, and it took three rounds of shampoo just to wash his hair! He's never forgiven me for it!"

"Sounds about right." Tucker shrugged. "I promised him a ticket to the observatory if he won, but you caught him the day of the showing, and he missed it."

"Why don't I remember this?" Sam demanded.

"It was right before y'all moved to town. It's the incident that caused the 'Fenturd' nickname."

Jazz put her head in her hands and groaned. Sometimes, she really wanted to smack her brother.

Danielle popped back into existence, making all three of them jump. Her mood had drastically changed, and she seemed really uncomfortable. "As interesting as that story is, and I definitely want to hear about it later," she said nervously. "This whole place has already been raided. There's no one here except a couple of soulless bodies. And an open portal. Someone was here before us."

All three shot up. "Lead the way," Jazz demanded. Everyone ran down the still-pristine hallway. Barely any dust had settled, and none of them smelled blood. Who had gotten here first?

They slid to a stop before a big metal door. Dani ducked through it to open it from the other side, and everyone was assaulted with the smell of rotting bodies and days-old blood as soon as it started moving. The door was literally so thick it had trapped everything inside. Including some agents, it seemed. A few bodies were pressed against the door and fell toward them when it opened. Tucker screeched and jumped back.

Sam, a true crime girlie at heart, crouched to examine the closest one. "Their fingers are worn through, almost to the bone," she noticed. "I bet if we closed the door again, we'd find scratch marks."

Dani floated above the corpses. "Yeah, it looks like something cut off all the exits and hunted them one by one."

"But what killed them?"

Sam toed a body until it flipped over. The eyes of the agent had been ripped from their skull, and frostbite warped their skin so bad she couldn't tell what their original features were. Danielle floated closer to Jazz, looking highly uncomfortable. "Danny's ecto is all over the place," she whispered. "He was definitely here."

"Right." Jazz hardened her heart. She was here to find her brother, not feel sorry for brutally mutilated government agents. "Let's get going. Stick to the battle buddy system, and keep your comms on."

They proceeded cautiously, only touching a body if it blocked their path or to find a key card. Tucker remarked that if this was a horror game, he probably would have played it, but living it was so much worse. Every single corpse had its eyes removed, and it was starting to wear on Jazz's mind. Dani mentioned their souls were gone, too.

Eventually, after some detours and backtracking, they reached the labs where Danny would have been held. Rage filled Jazz's chest as she saw ectoplasm mixed in with the bloodstains. A table had been set up to restrain a ghost with specialized handcuffs that had FENTONWORKS printed across them in bright green letters. Shattered glass was scattered across the floor and a few organs were decaying quite rapidly. A scientist was slumped across the table, a small knife still in hand. Jazz kicked the corpse.

Without Danielle telling her, she could feel it. This is where Danny had been tortured. Probably vivisected, too. Those were his organs that were rotting on the floor. His blood stains the ceiling. She was seeing red. She wanted to scream. Her baby brother had been tortured by these horrible people, and she didn't even get to kill them??

Danielle tugged on her arm, quietly bringing her back to herself. "The portal," she reminded Jazz. "It's in the next room."

"Sam, Tucker, see what you can recover from in here." Jazz gritted her teeth and let Dani guide her away from that room. "Dani's gonna show me the portal. Scream if you need us."

"Be careful!" Sam called back.

They left the room, going two doors down to what looked like a near-perfect copy of the Fenton's lab. She stiffened as she spied the portal. It wasn't set into the wall like the original but rather floated a few feet in the air in front of it. It looked like a tear in reality, similar to something Wulf could make, but on a much larger scale. She felt dwarfed by it, and dreaded to think about what could come through a portal this size.

Dani pointed out some blinking computers, the only ones still with power inside the entire compound. "They were working on a new portal," she said. "The Fentons sold their research. I'm not sure how we missed it, but they were really close to getting it figured out."

"This isn't from the GIW?" Jazz asked, gesturing to the behemoth of a disaster still swirling next to them.

"No, I don't think so," Danielle zoned out. Her eyes glowed, and she looked at things Jazz couldn't see. "This was opened from the other side. I think someone broke in, took Danny, and left after killing everyone."

"Someone from the Ghost Zone?" Jazz frowned. She bent over the computer, trying to click around for security footage. "But who do we know that is strong enough to kill everyone so physically? Vlad swore to never interact with us again, even if it was life or death. Undergrowth would have left plants behind, Nocturn doesn't like killing in the mortal realm, and Vortex can't sustain himself underground. None of the normal rogues are strong enough, either. Unless they got Desiree to help?"

"Nah, she may be a bitch, but she refuses to participate in murder of any kind. Plus, she's a neat freak. This isn't her work. It isn't Ghost Writer either; he doesn't like writing horror stories."

"What about Frostbite or Pandora?"

Dani wrinkled her nose. "Maybe? Frostbite is a pacifist who is more likely to rescue Danny without killing anyone. And the portal is too small to let Pandora through. She could've sent her warriors, though."

"It was Danny."

Jazz glanced up from the computer. Sam and Tucker were standing in the door, looking pale.

"We pulled recordings from the labs dating back two months. Danny was the one who killed everyone."

"...Pardon? It's only been a few weeks since he disappeared."

"I don't know." Tucker frantically typed away at his PDA, pulling up the downloaded footage and shoving it in Jazz's face. "But it's definitely him. I pulled their files, too. They were looking into time travel, Jazz. The day Danny showed up in their records, Operative K and Operative O were also logged in, even though they were 100% still in Amity during that time. They suddenly added on the time travel stuff a day later."

Jazz zoned out, numb to Tucker's near-hysterical rant. She just watched the tiny screen blankly as Danny was tortured over and over again but refused to give up the secrets the agents were asking for. Every time he refused, he was punished by having his organs taken away and put into jars for study. Then he'd be pumped full of pure ectoplasm, and just like Prometheus, he was back the next day with fresh organs for harvest. The dates in the recording went back weeks. Way before Danny disappeared.

Dani sobbed and looked away from the screen. Jazz couldn't even blink. The turning point in the experiments was when they brought in a little girl, a human girl, in front of Danny. The girl was about five, probably homeless or kidnapped, with pretty blonde hair done up in pigtails. Jazz noted she had been crying and had the number '27' pinned to her shirt. Danny was wary, sure it was a trick until he spotted something off-screen that they couldn't see. He jerked forward, straining to reach the girl, panic in his eyes.

But he couldn't reach her. Two scientists simply wrote down some observations before nodding in the same direction Danny was looking. Without asking a single question, the agents killed the little girl in front of Danny.

Jazz's hands shook as tears filled her eyes. Danny, her sweet baby brother, looked on in horrified shock as the cameras switched. Agents dumped the girl's body in a barrel of ectoplasm and waited patiently until a blue wisp rose from it. Then, using a Fenton peeler, they zapped the child's soul without mercy. Normally, the peeler stripped the disguise off a ghost to reveal their real form. But to a fresh soul as weak as that?

Her soul was burned into nothing.

Danny started screaming and imploded in on himself like a star.

The camera blacked out for a few moments, flickering between glimpses of her brother and blackness. She barely recognized him. His form had warped into something unrealistic. Something straight out of a movie. He was impossibly large now, barely able to walk on two legs when he stood amongst his broken restraints. His chest was a gaping cavern, and when he turned towards the camera, she could spy his tiny core exposed to the world. It was acting like a black hole, pulling at Danny's own skin and flesh like it was trying to suck him in. It was beautiful and strange in a horrible way.

He was too fast for the camera to really keep up with, but Tucker had doctored it to slow down each frame. Danny's face was splitting in two from a silent scream. His hair was flowing wildly, falling over his body, so it looked like he had a white, shaggy cloak.

His hunt never stopped. He didn't slow or hesitate to pounce on everyone he saw. His body was stained red from the gouging of people's eyes, which was the fastest way to reach a human soul. The group watched in horror as Danny leaned over his victims, opening his splitting maw even wider and devouring every soul he could, ensuring that they wouldn't even get peace in death. The churning of his core was getting worse, and at some point, he was spreading ice with every step he took. It looked like he was really struggling to stay standing by the time a few scientists were the only ones left in the compound. Jazz was afraid of what would happen if he collapsed completely. Would his core devour him?

At some point, the cameras really did die, and the screen went dark. Jazz realized she was crying, and moved to give the PDA back to Tucker.

"There's more," he shook his head. "But we didn't watch that far ahead because an outside force added it when I downloaded everything."

Like he said, the screen crackled back to life after a moment. The group realized it was from Danny's point of view. All the agents were dead, and he was stumbling through the halls in a daze, unable to keep his bigger form. He finally made it to the room they were in now, probably drawn to the familiarity of the lab layout. Before he could reach the unfinished portal, however, the freestanding one opened and out stepped a very familiar figure.

"Clockwork?" Jazz muttered, surprised.

As if hearing his name, Clockwork looked directly through Danny, straight at her. "The flow of time has been disrupted." He said softly. "I'll take our young Guardian here to a safe place. We have much to talk about, Miss Jasmine. You, too, Samantha, Tucker, and Danielle. I'll see you soon."

Then, the older ghost's focus switched back to Danny, and it was like he'd never spoken to them at all.

"Daniel," he coaxed. "It's time to go."

Danny groaned but stumbled forward and passed out in Clockwork's arms, promptly ending the video.

Silence descended over the room. Jazz could hear blood rushing through her body, and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. She thought over what they'd found in the facility, about the state of Amity Park, her parents, and most importantly, her brother. About how he was tortured to the brink of insanity and how he still found it in his heart to love others. To protect them. To care and grieve for someone he'd never met. He must be feeling so much hurt.

Deciding on the next step was easy.

"We need to find Clockwork."

-

[I realized the timeline is kinda confusing, and I promise it'll all match up in the next chapter, but here's a chart on what it looks like right now so it's easier to understand.]

[The top one is the timeline Ra's and the rest of the DC characters are on. The middle is Jazz and the others. Danny is separate from both timelines right now because of the Time Medallion that Dan forced into his core. Right before the start of the story, which is marked in bright colors, Danny and the agents he's traveling with get involved in a time anomaly and are transported two months into the past. The agents still take him to the Yellowstone compound, but the incident makes the GIW speed-run their research on the Ghost Zone and, now, time travel. The timelines sync up again when Tucker finds the video from Clockwork. The total amount of time that has passed since the start of the story to the sync-up is about three weeks.]

[abchavenforanon]

there is a massive, massive problem in this fandom with people not interacting with those producing content- even though that is exactly what drives most authors and creators. reblogs > likes, your local creators need you to at least make a small comment about their work! i see so many talented creators being so discouraged because there simply is not any interaction!

Admittedly I don't lurk in this fandom as much as I used to, so while I can't confirm, I definitely agree (in general and otherwise)! Knowing what people think about your work (art, writing, etc) is a HUGE motivator, and it's much more motivating to be told someone liked it or why, rather than just an acknowledgement of your work, which is what likes can feel like sometimes! It's understandable if people feel nervous reaching out or simply writing something in tags even (or writing in comments and the like!)-- I used to be that way too!--, but I promise no one here bites! Creators LOVE to see people interacting with their work, and this isn't me saying likes don't mean anything, because they mean a TON, but it can be discouraging to never see people say anything! If there's no words coming out of the support, people can mash together into a faceless internet person who gives you a metaphorical thumbs up whenever you make work, if that makes any sense. Someone commenting something about your work (or even texts posts!) stands out, and is very motivating if its a positive interaction with them, because now it isn't just a faceless person with no emotions, they're telling you something! Getting feedback is really good for your work, and it's great to have people telling you what they enjoy about it! Sorry for my potentially incoherent rambling, but wanted to write a response for you because I totally agree with what you're saying here!

[blahpanblah]

Okay, I’ve been wanting to make a book that was basically one big Gothic literature mash-up of mostly all of the stories you can think of into one big storyline. Maybe I’ll talk about it more one day but I want to share this one idea.

One storyline I want to make is a friendship between The Creature and Jekyll. Without going into TOO much detail, because what I want to do has some BIG differences between what happens in the original story.

But you have the Creature, who is a big walking, moving, breathing corpse. Who has no memory of who they are and have to discover who they truly are on their own with no one to take care of them.

And you got Jekyll and Hyde, who, in a nutshell, is basically having one big gender euphoria moment/Identity crisis. Both not having a clear idea of who they really are. “Is he Jekyll? is he Hyde? Something in between? Or someone else entirely?”

Both of who have no idea who they are or who they want to become. So the both of them I feel like would have a good dynamic. The two of them being supportive for each other, helping each other doing the other’s own self-respective crises/meltdown.

Not to mention it’s funny to imagine Hyde riding on the creature’s shoulders. (Something Jekyll would never do admittedly but Hyde has no shame so it’s fine.) While Jekyll could be teaching the creature doctor stuff. Both being nerds and chaotic duo.

And when it comes to a fight, Hyde and the creature are both wearing for one. With Hyde being the most antsy. And Jekyll, true to his occupation, would be team doctor. Maybe even berating the two, especially his other self, for any injuries.

[what-gs-watching]

“What good did love do, Doctor? When did it ever help?”

So I spent last week at my parent’s house finally pulling off the surprise birthday party I’d been planning for months for my mother and I was there for farrrrr too long and I ate waaaay too much and I only had six days from when I got home to get my head right and ready to start a new job after nine effing months of doing nothing. 

I’m starting on Monday and I’m super anxious about it, and everyone is posting about what’s going on with Doctor Who so obviously I decided to let Ruby and 15 turn my brain off for a bit, it’s the least they can do. Maybe that was a mistake, because woooooof y’all. I’m devastated that the season is already over. 

And as such, we def need to talk about both of these episodes at the same time. 

The Legend of Ruby Sunday / Empire of Death

Wherein, The Doctor and Ruby show up to UNIT to finally ask about the old woman they keep running into on their adventures, and immediately very purposefully fall into a trap. 

I have to say, as much as I love 15, baby boy has NOT been very observant this season. He’s caught up in having fun and showing his feelings and all of that is fantastic and beautiful but if this had been 10 or 11 they would have been mulling over this situation the entirety of the season and I probably wouldn’t feel so much like I just got whiplash. 

Like, the internet has been telling me to think about this random ass lady, instead of seeing the Doctor trying to puzzle her out in his downtime. And that’s the first time I’ve really thought to myself, ‘this is incredibly unlike the doctor.’ But we’re going to let it slide, because he’s otherwise charmed the pants off of me.

There was a lot I was definitely about in these episodes, in no particular order - 

OBVIOUSLY, the Rose / Ruby bonding. Absolutely adorable. They immediately gravitated to each other and I love that. It’s so sweet. And I’ll take ANY scrap of 14 I can get, but 15 asking ‘how’s your uncle?’ really made me greedy for more. Couldn’t my girl Rose given like, even the smallest cute little anecdote? Like ‘oh, he’s really into gardening right now…’ or something? Gimme like, even the littlest bit. I neeeed it. But fine. 

15’s outfits. I’ve loved all of the stuff they’ve put him in all season but HELLO that leather jacket and the cozy sweater he had on in the mish mash TARDIS? Gorgeous. Beautiful. I want to buy it right now.

Also, the mish mash TARDIS itself, and the little kiss 15 gives it at one point. Love all the random throwbacks inside that little thing even if I don’t know most of them because no, I never went back and watched the original seasons, so sue me. I’m pretty sure I spotted 11’s little scanner tv thing though, and I love that. I miss Matt Smith. 

And the Doctor lashing out and punching the wall and huffing and puffing and screaming and then Mel giving him a kick in the ass. I’m going to keep talking about how I love that 15 is actually okay with showing his feelings, but I do think he got too lost in them. We all been there, boo. But like, you heard that sick TARDIS sound (that’s going to haunt my dreams) and you were just like ‘oh I’ve heard that before’? BOY you are so distracted. 

Anyway, I’m vaguely aware there’s background on Sutekh that I should probably google if I want to fully understand the situation, but I’m not gonna do it. I accept that it’s the god of death and the doctor fought it once and banished it to the time vortex, but I have to say, I find the rest of the storyline a little bit weird. It hitched a ride on the TARDIS and traveled with the Doctor for basically untold amounts of time and no one ever noticed? And it’s appearance is NOT related to 14 casting that salt at the end of the universe, even though it was pretty clear that the rest of the random god appearances were? 

I guess I’m willing to accept all of that, but gang. Here’s the thing. After all of that time traveling around and watching the Doctor do what he does (and admittedly trying to sabotage him by planting harbingers? I guess? Wherever they went?) you’re still not going to kill him right off when you finally hatch your plot? You KNOW he gets out of things. You know he literally gets out of everything. You’ve watched him wiggle his way out of shit because his adversaries have given him an inch but you’re like ‘it’s fine, that won’t be me, because I REALLY need to know who this random human’s mother is?’ 

Nah. Nah nah nah. Like, maybe if you had really tried to kill him and he got out of it, I’d be like, ‘okay fine’ but that death cloud was half-assed and they beat it on like, a moped. 

If we’re going with real scary gods that have literally the power of basically everything, I’m gonna want their actions to make sense. 

I also have to admit that when the Doctor was monologuing about how the whole thing was his fault, when he said about all of the things he’s done “I thought it was fun”, I found myself thinking about how he really has been playing a game of his own devising and maybe he…shouldn’t. And it felt like maybe he thought that, too. Like, when is it gonna be enough for him? 

The point is, It’s super sweet that Ruby got to figure her shit out, they got me I cried at all of that, but the whole thing did feel a little disjointed to me. Which is fine, because now I’m sitting here like, ‘yo I need more’ but there isn’t more, not for forever, and clearly that’s how they get you. The arch wasn’t a cliff hanger really but also it kind of was and I’m unsatisfied. Maybe that’s the point. 

And I do now agree with Tumblr that the most interesting thing in all of this is how 14 and Donna reacted to the death cloud, and their reconstitution, and the realization that Rose was at UNIT during the entire thing - that’s going to occupy my brain for a really long time.

At the end of the day, eight episodes was not enough. But I’m SO  endeared to 15 and I love the direction the show is going, haters can hate all they want but Doctor Who was always weird and it was always for outcasts and it’s beautiful and stupid and silly and wonderful. Wonderful and perfectly imperfect. 

Friends, this season came at a time I really needed it. I'm thankful it helped me through my forced work hiatus, it's part of the tapestry that kept me going. And that's the good that love does. Doctor Who, I love you.

[avastyetwats]

Continued from here. @fornassau

"I look huge? You've seen yourself, Charles. We both know who the larger one is between the two of us." He made a face after saying that, realizing how filthy that must have sounded but he absolutely did not mean it that way. But he couldn't disagree with looking a little scary, he's heard that before. Probably didn't help that he didn't smile much. He had a nice smile, something he's been told when he did smile, but he just... didn't show it much. His attention returns to the girls being held by his boyfriend when he introduces them both and he gives them a little wave accompanied with that kind smile of his which widens when Lily finally peeks out from Charles's chest and says hi, shy as can be. "You're very welcome. Made sure to dust it off for you, too." He adds with a chuckle, following Charles deeper into his home.

"Of course." He nods, taking the flowers back as he follows him into his kitchen. He remembers where some things are from his last few visits here, but never needed to know where the vases were so it took him a couple of minutes to locate them, opening and closing a few cabinets until he found the correct one. It was during his first visit he learned how much Charles adored porcelain and he'd been reminded of it right now after opening said cabinets and finding more. It was cute, really. Incredibly so. "Yes, it would appear you have your hands quite full at the moment." He chuckles, what with Charles holding both girls in his arm. That is until he set Ellie down on the ground and she immediately hurried to the table and climbed onto the seat. "Does she? And she believes that I'm a good man? Are you so sure of that, Little Lily?" He questions in a plafyul tone, daring to reach forward and tickle her tummy which actually elicited a giggle from her lips. That made James beam ecstatically.

It wasn't that James was necessarily bad with kids. He was just... a little awkward at first. Took him just a few minutes to warm up, but it did help that Charles knew these girls. That they were related. It made James more comfortable... at ease, even if he had panicked earlier thinking they were his. But seeing Charles holding them... how good he was with them... how natural it all was for him... it made James feel... soft. Warm. Made him a little less scared of the future and a little more sure of what he wanted. Admittedly, someday he did want to be a father, he'd often thought of long before meeting Charles, but... tragedy struck and his life changed. Now, it had changed again, but for the better, finally. And gods if Charles didn't look good like this. He'd be an incredible father. Already was, really.

He snaps from his daze when he hears Charles's voice, cheeks a little red from the thoughts he'd been thinking, and he nods, clearing his voice. "Sure. The plans I originally had were suddenly canceled, so it would appear I'm available." He teases his boyfriend, showing he wasn't at all upset about their date being canceled. It didn't have to be, really. "We can still consider this a date, I think." He smiles at him, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek before he glances at Lily. "Mashed peas?" He gently gasps. "I think I might want what she's having." He chuckles, filling the vase with water and setting the flowers in them. "Ellie, where do you think I should put these?" Oh, he was falling right into it with ease.

[novantinuum]

heya! :D I'm so happy I found your blog, I just did a su rewatch this summer and I'm obsessed again! I was wondering if you had some fic recs to share? especially any and all that deal with steven's trauma (whether that be corruption aftermath, his abandonment issues, any of the traumatic experiences he had), anything really, just some nice and thorough hurt/comfort and healing <3 definitely up to any other recs you might have, even if they're about something completely different haha. thank you in advance!!

Ooooh heck yeah I can rec some of my favs! Admittedly, these days I haven't been reading that much new fic, so I'm not sure what new stuff is out there that's gone unnoticed, but I went through my bookmarks and found a few fics that still stand out to me today as ones I remember really vibing with when I read them-

First off, some fics that I remember delving into Steven's trauma (along other things)-

Aid to Navigation, by Ppleater (or @infriga here on tumblr)

Honest to god, this is my favorite Steven Universe fic on the whole goddamn internet. Post I Am My Monster hurt/comfort content galore. Emotional catharsis out the wazoo. Fascinating theorization about how Steven works as a hybrid. Sometimes there's even chapter artwork. ALSO NANEFUA AS AN IMPORTANT CHARACTER, WHICH I RARELY SEE LET'S GO NANEFUA

a world for the birds, by @fanfoolishness

Do you like Uncle Andy? Do you vibe with the idea of bird watching? Do you wanna read about Andy's outsider observations of the trajectory of his nephew's bizarre life as he shares his hobby of bird watching with Steven as a bonding activity over the years moving into the events of Steven Universe: Future??

Go read this fic, it destroys me. In fact, just do yourself a favor and check out this author's whole catalogue, because my next fic rec is from her, too.

Comminuted, by @fanfoolishness

Post Growing Pains hurt/comfort focused on Steven and his dad's relationship. I remember this one dropping pretty damn soon after the episode aired and it w r e c k e d my emotions and gave me all the catharsis my sappy little heart desired at the time.

WELCOME BACK TO THE VLOG, steven universe here! by waddlesthejoghog (or @thisisnotacreativeusername here on tumblr)

Here's a story with a COMPLETELY different format than all the others- this one chronicles Steven's life through a variety of videos he posts to his TubeTube channel over the years. (Which, if you watch the SU shorts, is a canonical fun fact about him! He posts unboxing videos and reactions and stuff online, ahah.)

Each chapter sorta like, "transcribes" what's happening in the video, and there's even a little views/likes/dislikes/subscriber count + mock comments section at the end of every one! I found it a very charming and fun read- but also it punched me in the face by the end because it's like a whole microcosm of Steven's character development throughout the entire show mashed into one 59 chapter story.

This one is not wholly focused on Steven's trauma, as it spans the events of the entire show, but that does play a decently big role later on in the fic.

__

As a quick little self-plug, I've also written a good deal of fics focused on various shades of Steven's traumatic experiences, and the following is (probably) my favorite of those:

A Memoir of the Marks Unseen (uhh... by me lol)

This one is focused on the topic of Steven + the headcanon of him having corruption scars like the other healed Gems, and picks up pretty soon after I Am My Monster. It spans months (and later Years) after that, detailing his journey towards accepting these remnants as a neutral part of him. I'm still very proud of finishing it, as I was pulling from some raw personal experience with this one.

__

Lastly, here's two Connie focused fics I remember slapping ass in their own various ways:

Xenopology, by CompletelyDifferent

Some Connie + all the Gems character study pieces!

The Stranger in Me, by Cyberwraith9

Connie accidentally gets perma-bonded with a poofed gemstone retrieved from a corrupted Gem. Hijinks ensue. I remember this one having a legendary level of character development for Connie and her whole family especially ;w;

[silverhart-makes-art]

My main thought of this week's Bestiary Posting was - it's got hooves and horns so I get to draw another ungulate! Hooray!

This week's creature is the basekhwa. We know it is an ungulate due to references to horns and hooves! We know that is has keen hearing (at least when it's ears are pricked), that it eats snakes, has a long coat that it sheds, and can run and leap great distances. That's a lot of information for sure, but doesn't give us the clearest picture other then 'ungulate'.

I ended up focusing on the snake-eating idea - I know that cows have been found eating snakes (ungulates eating small animals is not actually that unusual), so I knew I wanted to do a bovine.

While cattle are surprisingly agile, I decided I wanted my basekhwa to look like an animal capable of leaping and running great distances. So I decided to combine my cow with the Tibetan antelope, another bovid known for it's yearly migration. If you've never seen a Tibetan antelope, they kind of look like if a goat decided to become a reindeer and also grew some antelope horns. So really just making a mish-mash creature out of an already mish-mash creature. The horns are also based on the Tibetan antelope, though I deliberately curled them in such a way that they are perfect for scooping up a snake from the ground for a quick munch. I've decided to interpret the 'keen hearing when ears are up and can't hear when ears are down' to just having super fluffy ears that just sort of muffle sounds when they're lowered and thus full of fluff.

Lastly, I gave it a nice shaggy coat, which this basekhwa will likely shed after she finishes with this snake. I've decided to draw this basekhwa spearing a serpent with her horns, next to some (admittedly very stylized) dittany. As for the pose, I feel sure I've seen depictions of unicorns in the same pose (and trained horses of course). I think one of the Unicorn Tapestries shows one in a similar pose, so maybe that's what I was thinking of. I'm not sure. Regardless, I think it came out very 'feral unicorn-esque' which I think is great.

[hesgomorrah]

Until a few minutes ago I've never thought about Trapcahy but it seems intriguing tbh. Can you maybe share a few Trapcahy moments to get me started?

(Also I'm totally looking forward to the Trapcahy spanking fic now!)

Oh my god, hi, thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about them! Admittedly Trapcahy is a crackship that got wildly out of hand so there isn't actually a ton to point to in the show itself, a lot of it is just extrapolating, but they definitely have their moments that you can watch with shipping goggles on. Also sorry this is so many words, you activated my trap (heh) card. The important bits are in bold.

I tried to pick a top three episodes, but really it's a top four: Requiem for a Lightweight, Showtime, Life With Father, and Alcoholics Unanimous are probably the ones that give us the most to work with in terms of their dynamic. But they have lots of little moments sprinkled throughout the show! Trapper "shooting craps with the chaplain" (😏) in Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, their conversation in Mail Call, the opening scene of Rainbow Bridge ("Be good, and if you can't be good, be careful." "Aren't we lucky to have such a nice Father?"). Mulcahy watches Trapper make out with a nurse in L.I.P. (twice if you count Bulletin Board) and Trapper feeds him by hand in House Arrest and kisses his cheek in Kim. And I can't for the life of me remember the episode, but there's a scene where Trapper is pouring Mulcahy a drink at a party, and he says "Not too much, I'm praying later :)" and Trapper gives a side glance as if he'd been thinking he was about to get laid this whole time. (EDIT: It's Dear Dad Three!)

But mostly what interests me about Trapcahy is more their potential than what we actually see on-screen, just due to the relatively low-drama, ensemble nature of the seasons of MASH that Trapper was actually in. It's never explicitly stated in the show, but it's heavily implied on a number of occasions that Trapper was raised Catholic and now has a rocky at best relationship with the Church; I'm also very interested in the reading of Mulcahy as a closeted gay man, but each of those could be an essay unto themselves. The way I see them, they're two people with the specific experience of growing up both queer and very Irish Catholic in a big city, surrounded by suburban WASPs, and that gives them the unique potential to both heal and hurt each other in a way I don't think any other shipping partner could give either of them. They're mirrors in a way, two wildly different individuals that are the product of incredibly similar circumstances, and I think that's a fascinating space to play in!

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

~~Chapter 2~~

(Ao3 link at the bottom, updates Tuesdays)

Ben has been to a fair number of memorably awkward dinners in his life. From soothing the inevitable culture shock of new dignitaries come to orbit the galactic senate, to peace treaty signings that ended in assassinations rather than weddings; between being a traveling jedi master and living on the ecumenopolis that is Coruscant… he has seen a thing or two. 

Yet somehow this dinner was going to make the greatest hits list of phenomenally awkward events.

"Here Ben, have some more topato salad," Beru offers, nudging the bowl toward him.

He isn’t very hungry after all the rest of the admittedly fine meal, but discretion is indeed the better part of valor. The jedi-in-exile takes another two spoonfuls rather than decline. He plans to stretch the two bites to six or seven tiny ones.

"Thank you, Beru," Ben says with a smile. "I must say, your creativity with topato is astounding. I really didn't know you could do this many things with them." 

Across the table, Owen is trying to light him on fire with his eyes. He ignores the other man. He has nothing on Mace in a mood, and there really isn’t anything for it. Either the moisture farmer would come to like him well enough, or he would not .

Besides, Luke is sitting in his highchair, talking baby nonsense and gumming adorably at mashed topatos. How could anyone be in a bad mood around that* ? If Owen manages to keep his snit going, Ben will simply have to write it off as a chronic and incurable condition.

"I think the topato cakes are a new favorite of mine," he throws out, trying to keep the conversation topic of root vegetables going as long as possible, "Although the casserole was a close second. The hass… hmm… what was it you called it? The accordion cuts on the full one?"

"A 'hasselback'," Beru offers, preening about it, and clearly ignoring Owen’s grumpiness as well. "My grandpa taught me how to do that one."

"Ah yes! That was it. The hasselback was particularly impressive, and rather fun to eat."

He means that, too. When half your crop is topatoes and you come up with this many different ways to prepare them, it really is impressive.

Beru pats his hand, "I'm so glad you've enjoyed everything, Ben. Don't worry, I'll send you home with leftovers."

"Don't spoil me too much!" he jokes with a laugh, but speaks from a place of honesty. It isn't like he has a conservator to put anything in.

Luke replies for the room, big blue eyes squinting closed as he squeals happily, just a hair below the frequency needed to crack glass. Beru snorts at the baby, tidying his face and returning several spoons of mash from highchair table to infant-sized bowl. Even Owen's frown pulls up a hint in amusement.

Conversation fails to pick back up after Luke's outburst though. Alas, the root vegetable topic has run its course. Ben focuses intently on his tiny bites of creamy, oniony salad.

The chatter hasn't been dead more than a minute when he catches Beru giving her husband a black look. Owen tries to dodge its potency by hiding behind a mouthful of bread roll, but that only takes him so far. 

Suddenly the man jumps, banging a knee on the underside of the table… almost like someone had stomped on his foot down there.

Ben inspects his shiny, scratched up dinner spoon, and waits.

There's another stint of quiet while they get into it in silence, speaking in the wordless language of couples everywhere. There's eyerolls, pointed glances toward the couch, flat looks, and raised brows. 

Ben can tell that Owen has lost when the man actually speaks more than five words in a row for the first time all night. 

"Say… wizard. There's something I want to ask you," he prods, gruff.

The jedi perks up, trying to exude friendliness. "Certainly, what is it?" 

"Luke's grandma was allergic to somethin' in vizza wheat. Was wondering if you knew how to check for that without doin’ it the hard way."

"Or if you knew if either of his parents had…?" Beru adds. 

Ben rubs his chin thoughtfully, grateful for the regrowth of hair that had somehow come back in much fuller than before, despite no change in habit. Perhaps he was simply acclimatizing?

"Now that I think about it, Anakin would get a stomach ache if he ate too much bread. I would guess it was simply a mild gluten intolerance? Luke could have that as well."

Owen looks down at the remains of breadroll in his hands, skeptical. "He was intolerant of something in all  bread?" 

Ben shakes his head in a negative, hands lowering. "Different flours can have very little or a great deal of gluten. A little was fine for him, like the bread needed for a kebob or fried food? But a bread pudding would give him indigestion for hours, and make him cranky besides."

Beru smiles, seemingly more pleased than the conversation warranted. "Well that's good to know! We'll have to try giving our little man here just a bit, and see how he does." 

"So we do it the hard way after all," Owen grumbles, "You really don't got any fancy wizard tricks to check?"

Ben laments not having the blood test device that jedi used to carry as commonly as most people would keep a datapad on hand. It would have done the trick, and well… he is curious about the boy's midichlorian count. 

"No, I'm sorry. There's a device that could do it, but I don't have one."

Beru waves him off. "A clue from his dad is more than we had to start with, Ben. Don't stress about it."

He nods, and tries not to, going back to his last two mini-bites of topato. 

The conversation wobbles to life here and there, just enough that the rest of the night feels a bit awkward, but not truly stilted or painful. They make it to dessert, where Luke's sweet tooth joy carries the adults the rest of the way until it's time to say goodnight. 

Beru invites him to stay, citing the desert's dangers as the suns disappear, but by that point Ben longs for his quiet little cave. He does not, however, escape without an abundance of leftovers.

It is a long, quiet walk back across the sands to his hideaway. The darkened interior greets Ben with freshly sand-coated floors and the skitter of nighttime creatures. The shape of stone and surface are unlit by the wan moonlight outside, but that’s quite alright. He has long since memorized the form of his space in the dark.

“I’m back!” he tells the dusty air, shuffling carefully in the pitch black to get to the bed. “I had a lovely time at the Lars’. Beru’s topato game is really something.”

The wrapped containers he’d been given are set along the back wall, where a shelf-like protrusion holds a few things. Mostly nice rocks he’s found here and there.

“I’ve more leftovers than I know what to do with…” Ben complains.

He does. They’re fine in the chilly night, but won’t last through the heat of the day tomorrow. “I suppose I shall… simply have to eat as much of them as possible.”

The thought of eating a feast for the second day in a row turns his stomach.

“Or well… perhaps some of the rock lizards would like a bite?”

No one replies, but that’s to be expected.

“Yes, I think I shall share.”