#pulling out math to clock people is wild and I love it

[biancadoes1]

Let’s forget about everything Nic and Luke have said and shown (crumbs and allowed tags on Nic’s ig) and what they haven’t said and shown (we are just friends and here are our so’s). What are we left with now? Pap photos.

Put yourself in their position. You’re having your picture taken and posted without consent. Its a moment in time and it for sure isn’t painting a full picture of what’s going on. If you feel sneaky, invasive snaps of people you’re supposed to be a fan of, posted by people that don’t give a $#!+ about them outside of how many clicks their sites can get, you may need to step away from the fandom/ off the boat/ whatever.

If that makes you realize that you’re stressing out over hateful, invasive sites and people go back and start thinking about everting we have been given intentionally.

Those people that believe AR was ever an option / continues to be an option, I feel bad for you. Dont bother turning around to get back on the boat. I believe JD is an option 10x more. 10x0 is still 0 but I digress.

[wholesomemendes]

The Final Attempt | 2

College and Hockey Shawn Au

Summary: It’s the championship game for the hockey team and you’re going to support the team just as you did for the opening game, except this time, you’re repping a certain curly hair boy that you met at the library. (This is the part 2 to The Final Attempt which I will link right here)

Author’s Note: This was highly requested and while I didn’t have a part 2 in mind I’m kinda proud of how this came out so I hope you like it! This is the longest fic I have ever written with a little over 4.3k words and I worked really hard on it to make a good story arc for you guys! As always please tell me what you think!

The championship game. If you had thought that the opening game was a big event, the championship game had blown all expectations out of your mind. You weren’t one for big crowds, but here you sat amongst the hundreds of people, Shawn’s large practice jersey adorning your body with the word MENDES written in bold letters along your back. “I love it,” you recalled him telling you the first time you had put it on for a game, “Lets everyone know you’re mine.” It seemed like just yesterday you were sitting nervously at the opening game, watching the boy that had won your heart with something as simple as cups of tea and messages written in sharpie. Fast forward to this afternoon when you had kissed your boyfriend good luck before he went to practice and were now watching him skate across the ice at a rapid pace. There was only 5 minutes left in the game with the score tied up, and everyone in the stadium could feel the nail-biting tension in the air. The puck was now in Shawn’s possession as he skated across the ice towards the goal, determination set in his eyes.

“Come on, Shawn,” you whispered to yourself, watching his every move with bated breath. 4 minutes 31 seconds...30 seconds....29 seconds...CRASH. A loud gasp escaped your lips and you stood in your seat, watching as his body got checked viciously into the boards with a loud bang. Shawn slumped down onto the ice, unable to get up while his opponent stole the puck and began to skate towards the goal. “No, no, no,” you prayed, hands covering your mouth, “You’re ok, baby, get up, you’ve gotta get up.” You saw him shake his head carefully, worried that he had a concussion from the amount of impact his head took, before looking up at the timer on the wall. 2 minutes 54 seconds. His head pounded, eyes wanting so bad to just close and rest for a few seconds, but he saw the clock, knowing that this was his last chance to make his team and school proud. He looked into the crowd, eyes landing on the one person he could always trust. Your eyes connected and as he saw the look of pure concern on your face, he knew that he had to use every last bit of strength inside of him to make you proud because at the end of the day, you were the only person that truly mattered to him. The cheers of the crowd were deafening as Shawn regained his ground, skating towards one of his teammates that had managed to to steal back the puck. Passing him the puck, his team flocked him on both sides, protecting him from defenders while he approached the goalie, the clock only seconds away from the end of the game. 5... Shawn maneuvered around an opponent, puck still against his stick ...4... he stared the goalie dead in the eyes as his heart rate increased from adrenaline ...3... thump thump ....2... shoot ....1... score. The crowd erupted into cheers causing the stadium to move up and down with the excitement in the building. You jumped up, smile so wide your cheeks hurt from the action, but you couldn’t help the proud feeling that erupted in your chest. 

His teammates crowded him on the ice, adrenaline and victory rushing through their veins as they piled on one another, spirits high all around. The team’s all star player and captain was handed the winning trophy, National Champion written in bright gold lettering along the front. Cheeks flushed from the ice, Shawn held the trophy high above his head with a smile on his face that could be seen for miles, the stadium roaring in response. The energy was electric among the students, cheering from every inch of the team’s supporters as the team huddled around their winning prize and soaked up the crowd’s excitement. Shawn’s eyes met yours for a split second and you blew him a kiss, a silent message to him to show how proud you were, before he was whisked away for picture with his team. 

_________________________

The outside of the stadium was packed full of students, all waiting for the victors to finally emerge from the stadium. They were chanting the team’s name, the school’s fight song blaring from their mouths in celebration. The doors swung open and the boys came out to the wild applause and screams of the crowd. Shawn led the pack, the team’s captain smiling wide from ear to ear as the students crowded him. You leaned against the wall of the stadium, watching as all of the fans congratulated him, not wanting to disrupt his moment. He thanked them profusely, but his eyes kept wandering around searching for one particular person. Shawn’s eyes met yours and they lit up, pushing past all of the girls begging for his attention. You noticed him moving towards you and lost all restraint, running into his arms so he could pick you up in his strong grasp. You wrapped your legs around his waist, nuzzling your face into his shoulder as he did the same, “I’m so proud of you, bubs.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, baby,” he told you sincerely, head lifting to show off that dazzling smile, “You’re my good luck charm.” Shawn had sworn by this fact after the only game they had lost had been the 3rd game of the season, the one you skipped in order to study for an upcoming test. Ever since then, you made it a point to be at every game and they hadn’t lost since, furthering proving Shawn’s theory. You giggled as he placed you on the ground, hands coming up to cup your face in a passionate kiss. Breaking away he placed an arm around your waist and kept you close while more people came to talk to him about the game. You snuggled closer to his arm, using him as a way to keep your calm over how crowded the situation was, especially when you began to feel the jealous stares of the puck bunnies around you. Shawn felt your discomfort after a moment and he squeezed your waist in reassurance before beginning to maneuver you out of the crowd. “Do you think you’ll be ok going to a party with me or do you just want to go back to your dorm? I’ll do either, it’s up to you.”

The idea of going to a party tonight made you sick when you’d much rather just cuddle in the arms of your man, but there was no way you were going to let him skip out on a championship after party, “I’ll be fine, you’ve gotta go to the party.”

He turned your body to face his, a serious look on his face, “I’m serious, though, if you don’t feel comfortable going we can just...”

“We’re going,” you replied confidently, hiding the nerves bubbling inside of your chest, “And what you’re not gonna do is worry about me and instead let loose and have fun.”

“I always worry about you babe, but thank you. I don’t deserve you.” He gave you a kiss on your forehead before he led you to follow the crowd in the direction of the chaos.

_________________________

It was 2 hours into the party when you lost your boyfriend. He had been glued to your side the whole night in an attempt to make you feel comfortable, but once the guys tried to drag him into a game of beer pong after you had begun to strike up a conversation with a girl from your math class, you convinced him to go have fun, assuring him you would be fine. You weren’t one to drink so you had been nursing a beer all night long which only gave you a slight buzz. Shawn on the other hand was about 3 drinks in and had reached the point where you knew he was going to have a nasty hangover the next day. You couldn’t blame him though, you had actually promoted it when one of his teammates, Brian, had handed him another drink. “Shawn, I promise I’ll stay sober so you can have fun,” you had told him, but he protested, claiming that he didn’t want to ruin your night. However, you happened to love drunk Shawn because although you didn’t see him often, he was known to be extremely cute and clingy even if his energy was also to the max. 

You followed the loud yells coming from within the house only to find Brian standing on top of the beer pong table in victory as Shawn laughed beneath him. Two guys you recognized as some of his teammates grimaced on the side as they took a swig of an unknown substance, immediately souring their faces in disgust. “Hey bubs,” you placed a tender hand on his shoulder, causing Shawn’s face to turn around with a dopey grin on his face.

“Babyyyyy,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around you, “I missed you.”

You could smell the alcohol on his breath, but you chose to ignore it, focusing on the feeling of being in his arms instead, “I missed you too, did you and Brian win your game?”

“We did! Baby, I’m so good at beer pong,” he mumbled into your hair as his hands roamed your sides, “I should play you sometime.”

“Nah, I’d rather play on your team.” 

“Will you lovebirds stop hanging on each other over there, I need my beer pong partner back!”

Shawn’s head perked up after hearing Brian’s words and he pulled you in front of him, back to his chest with his arms still wrapped around you. “I’m not your partner anymore I’m hers,” he said confidently, placing his head on top of yours, “You wanna play us, Craigen?” 

“I don’t want to drink anything, Shawn,” you whispered to him while Brian went on the hunt to find a partner.

“I know,” he took your hand in his, kissing the back lightly, “I’ll drink for you, ok?”

“You really think you need more to drink?” you teased and he laughed, throwing his head back causing him to hiccup. His eyes widened at his own actions and a giggle escaped his lips, “Probably not, but I’ve got a pretty girl that’ll take care of me.”

“Oh, I’ve gotta take care of you?’

“You don’t have to, but you’re the only one I want to,” he showed his puppy dog eyes, even though you were fully planning on ensuring he got home safely, “Pleaseeee.”

“I’m just messing with you,” you told him, ruffling through his curls, “I’ll always take care of you.” Just then, Brian came back with his newest victim, giving the both of you a mouthful after you pecked his lips before starting the game. Shawn wasn’t lying, even drunk he was good at beer pong allowing you to win even though you only made 3 throws. Brian’s team still managed to make a considerable amount of cups which led to your beloved boyfriend becoming even drunker than he already was. Once the clock hit 3 am and Shawn began suggesting that you join in on the body shots that people were beginning to do in the kitchen, you decided that it was time to bring your champion home.

_________________________

“Come on, bubs, let’s get you out of these clothes.” Shawn was busy mumbling something incoherent as you stumbled into his dorm room and placed him on the bed. You knew Brian was probably not coming back tonight, so you weren’t worried about him barging into the room in the middle of the night. You lightly tugged on his alcohol stained shirt, a result of him getting a little clumsy during his second round of beer pong, “You gotta help me a little bit here, big guy.”

He lifted his arms up to help you out, eyes glazed over as he sat on the edge of his bed, “’M tired.” 

“I know, bubs,” you sighed, beginning to unbutton his pants, “Just gotta get you into some clean clothes.”

“Hey, missy, no funny business there,” he slurred out with a drunken smile on his lips as he grabbed your wrist from pulling down his pants, earning a giggle from you in response. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, bubs,” successfully tugging his pants off, you reached behind you for the pair of pajama pants you had placed on the dresser and turned back to the giant man child that now had a pout adorning his face. 

“You don’t dream of it?” he asked hurt, eyes drooping from the lack of sleep, “But, but, I’m your boyfriend...and you’ve said I’m handsome, and, and I’m hot!”

You laughed at his antics, getting the pants around his ankles and putting your hands in his to help hims stand up. He leaned against your much smaller body as you pulled the waist band up and held his face in your hands. “I think you’re very, very handsome,” you told him, admiring how adorable he looked even with glazed, drunken eyes and a bright pink tint to his cheeks from the alcohol, “I also happen to think you’re the hottest man alive, but you just so happen to be extremely drunk right now which means you need to go to sleep.” Shawn collapsed into your arms, giving you a bone crushing hug as you stumbled back trying to regain your footing.

“I love you,” he mumbled into your shoulder, “so, so much.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. You had only been dating for a little over 5 months, so the words were still very new to the two of you and they almost made you cry at how lucky you were every time he said those 3 simple words. “I love you too, champ. Let’s get you to bed.”

You maneuvered him into the tiny bed of his dorm room and he immediately snuggled into your chest like a little puppy once you laid down. With his head rested comfortably on your chest and his arms wrapped around you, his breathing began to even out while you slowly ran your fingers through his curls, “Goodnight, my little champion.”

_________________________

Your alarm went off at 9am much to your dismay, and you struggled to reach over the curly headed boy on your chest to turn it off. You didn’t have a single clue as to why you still had a lecture today, but you did, and as much as you wanted to just lay in bed all day with your boyfriend, you couldn’t miss one of your hardest lectures. You tried to move out from underneath your giant of a boyfriend earning you a groan while his arms tightened around you. “Shawn, I have to get up,” you whispered, tracing over the freckles on his muscular back.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled into your chest, “Just wanna cuddle for a little bit.”

“I know bubs, but I have to get to class.” 

At this, he finally let you leave his strong grasps, grabbing onto the pillow to hold onto in place of you, “What class?”

“Mr. Howard at 11, but I have to go home and get changed.” You had put on the sweatshirt you had under his jersey along with your jeans from the game, knowing you couldn’t just wear the shirt you had stolen from his closet to sleep in last night to walk back to your dorm. “I left you some water and medicine for your head on the nightstand, make sure to get some rest, ok?” you ruffled your hands through his hair and he relaxed further into the mattress from your motions. You gave him a soft kiss on his mass of curls, mumbling an I love you into them, before grabbing your belongings from atop Brian’s bed and turning towards the door.

Shawn grabbed your hand to stop you from leaving, placing the sweetest of kisses on the back of your hand while looking you in the eyes, “I love you more.” Your cheeks heated up at his words and you squeezed his hand lovingly before making your way out of his room. 

Walking as fast as you could to your dorm room, you got ready in a hurry, knowing you would have to rush to make your lecture in time due to the extra moments you had spent at Shawn’s place. You put on the first reasonable outfit you could find and packed your bag at a rapid speed in order to make it out the door with 15 minutes to spare. It usually took about 20 minutes for you to walk to class, but you were determined to not be late today. You practically sprinted to the large stone building and managed to walk through the door just as the professor was about to lock it. Giving him a sheepish smile, your eyes searched for an open seat, only to let out a disappointed sigh when you noticed that your typical seat towards the front had been taken. The only available seat was right next to the door and you begrudgingly sat down in it as you took out your laptop to take notes.

30 minutes into the lecture and your brain was fried. Your mind kept on wandering off and daydreaming about being back in bed in Shawn’s arms no matter how much you tried to concentrate. This had to be one of your hardest lectures, but you were having such a hard time focusing that you were wondering if you should just pack your things and leave. The growling of your stomach cut off your thoughts and made you realize that you hadn’t eaten or drank anything before coming to class, which was definitely taking a toll on you. You sighed, looking back up at the professor when you heard the door of the lecture hall closing. Whipping your head around, you couldn’t see anyone entering the room so you focused your thoughts back to the screen with a confused look on your face. As you went to move your laptop to better see your professor, your eyes were drawn to something that had definitely not been on your desk a few seconds prior. A white cup of tea, noticeably from the school’s cafe, was sitting right on the corner of your desk, staring back at you. Tentatively, you picked it up, turning it around in your hands only to be met with Shawn’s signature handwriting written in Sharpie. 

A hot hibiscus tea with one scoop of sugar.

Sorry if I made you late to class today, thank you for taking care of me beautiful.

Love you loads, Shawn aka Bubs aka your Champ aka Best Boyfriend ever

P.S. because you’re an amazing girlfriend and you spent the whole night making sure I didn’t kill myself I’m taking you out tonight. I’m picking you up at 7, dress warm;)

You bit your lip to hide the wide grin forming on your face and suddenly, you wanted to get out of class as soon as possible for a completely different reason. The lecture seemed to drag on for hours and the moment your professor was finished you were rushing out the door to your dorm. You still had almost 6 hours left to kill before Shawn picked you up, so you texted him letting you know that you were done with class as you began to distract yourself with homework and notes from other classes. Once 6pm approached, you heart was beating rapidly with excitement and you decided it wasn’t too early to get ready. You didn’t quite know what to wear when he said dress warm because the weather was considerably nice outside and did not require a warmer dress code. Nevertheless, you decided to put on one of Shawn’s hockey sweatshirts that had his name printed on the back in bold with the school’s logo on the front and some warm leggings underneath. 

7 o’clock rolled around as a knock sounded on your door. Opening it up to reveal your perfect boyfriend, you launched yourself into his arms which he responded to by pulling you closer with a light laugh, “Hi baby.” 

“Hi handsome,” you giggled as he looked at you sheepishly while holding out a bouquet of yellow roses to you, which he just happened to know were your favorite, as if it was your first date all over again. You thanked him with a blush on your face and a kiss to his cheek, causing his face to light up pink when you turned around, just from your presence. 

“That’s an awfully nice sweatshirt you got there.”

You laughed as he made his way into your dorm room, wrapping his arms around you from behind while you were finding a place to put the flowers, “I got it from the greatest college hockey player I know.”

“I’m the only college hockey player you know,” he pointed out as you turned around in his hold.

“Exactly,” you teased and he feigned offense, pinching your sides lightly in protest and pouting out his lips. You leaned up to kiss the pout off his lips and he immediately deepened the kiss, pushing his body closer to yours until he suddenly came to his senses and pulled away, “Stop distracting me woman, we have places to be.” With that he grabbed your hand and began to pull you out of the dorms and towards his jeep, the two of you laughing the entire way.

_________________________

The drive to your unknown location took less than 10 minutes and before you knew it, Shawn was pulling into a parking stop at the school’s hockey stadium. “What are we doing here?” you curiously asked through giggles from the last joke he had just told you.

“I may or may not have gotten the rink free for tonight so we could skate together,” he confessed, a bashful blush on his cheeks as he got out of the jeep and came around to open your door.

“How did you manage that?”

“Being the school’s star player and captain does have its perks. You’re practically dating a celebrity baby.”

“Oh shut up,” you pushed him jokingly and he retaliated quickly, lifting you over his shoulder and running towards the door.

“Shawn! Let me down!” you laughed as your arms tried to grab onto a part of his muscular back to no avail. He grabbed your legs to insure you wouldn’t fall and spun you around one last time once he reached the entrance, putting you down gently. Shawn opened the door for you, the stadium feeling oddly empty with how quiet it was. Guiding you towards the rink, Shawn felt his heart bubble in anticipation at the thought of having his girl alone with him in his favorite place to just skate around. He handed you a pair of skates that he had already placed on a bench for you, having asked your roommate for your shoe size earlier in the day. “I haven’t been ice skating in about 5 years,” you admitted, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips. How you managed to have a star hockey player as your boyfriend when you could hardly skate on two feet you didn’t know, and even though you knew Shawn wouldn’t judge you for your skills, or lack of for that matter, you still felt a tad bit embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, hun,” he told you as he helped you lace up your skates, “I’ll hold your hand every second we’re out there.” With one last tug on the laces, he patted your skate securely, looking up at you with doe-like eyes, “How do they feel?”

“Perfect,” you leaned down and pecked his lips before he sat down next to you to begin his own skates. Taking your hand in his, he pulled you onto your wobbily feet and led you towards the ice. 

“Now I’m gonna get on first, just hold onto my hands.” This wasn’t your forte for sure, but Shawn was a patient teacher and after a few laps around the rink, you were feeling much more confident, probably a little too confident. You had been skating for about 45 minutes when you had suggested that he taught you how to skate backwards. Shawn’s face had lit up, loving every second of you being interested in something he loved and he immediately turned himself around to hold your hands to show you how to start. For a beginner, you weren’t doing awful, but you were far from perfect and that became clear when your feet fell out from underneath you. Shawn wrapped his arms around you just as you were about to fall on your butt, effectively having you land on top of him on the ice, the both of you laughing your heads off. 

Once the laughter began to settle, Shawn’s eyes began to turn softer, the lights inside of the rink making them glow brighter than usual. “How’d I get so lucky?” he mumbled to himself as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you heard it loud and clear. 

“I ask myself that everyday, bubs.”

He cradled the back of your head in his hand, lifting his head to meet your lips in a passionate kiss. “I love you,” you whispered softly against his lips.

“I love you too, baby. You mean more to me than any hockey championship I could ever win.”

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s 2020 Birthday R&S

🍒Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an R&S which has not been released in EN!🍒

[Prologue]

The birthday event begins with MC in an antique store, in search of a moderately priced antique. She had asked Shaw for help since she’s been having difficulties finding one

Unexpectedly, Shaw gives her the keys to an antique store the next day, telling her to take whatever she wants

Even though MC knew early on that Shaw used to have a mentor who owned an antique store, she still feels strange about it - she’s unable to associate antiques, which are filled with rich history and culture, with Shaw

She wonders if Shaw visited this antique store regularly in his childhood

She notices that a drawer is open:

There are several yellowed exercise books lying inside, and “Shaw” is written on the bottom right corner of the covers in pencil.

MC: Could these be Shaw’s exercise books when he was young?

Curious, I take out these “major discoveries” from the drawer, my mind whirring with countless questions.  

At the back of my mind, I have a feeling that this place has a special meaning to Shaw.

MC: Maybe, for Shaw’s birthday…

While I’m thinking, something else in the drawer attracts my attention.

There are three copper coins, the colours antique, under sheets of writing paper. Covered in dust, they seem to be calling out to me voicelessly.

~

[Chapter 1: Exam Results]

At 4pm on a Friday afternoon, the math teacher wraps up her final point and closes the lesson plan.

The black board is decorated with the homework for the weekend. The teacher pushes up her spectacles. There is a big stack of exam papers on the table. “Last week’s exam scripts have been marked. Come and take them when I call your name.”

“This time round, most of you have improved. Only one student did not pass.” She takes up the exam script at the very top, flips it open, her eyes sweeping across the last row of the classroom, stopping at the seat at the very corner.

“Shaw.”

Hearing his own name being read, Shaw unwillingly stuffs the interesting comics underneath the table, taking his time to stand up. At the same time, the whole class cannot help but turn around and look at him evenly.

Sensing the surprised and teasing looks in their eyes, Shaw instead raises his head high and walks forward, stuffing a hand into his pocket with a devil-may-care attitude.

Taking the exam script from the teacher, Shaw stands in place, flipping through the script to look at the questions he got wrong.

Well, he did get more questions wrong than expected…

But math itself as a subject is annoying. It’s fine if he doesn’t do well.

He folds the exam script, folds it again, and again, before stuffing it into his pocket, turning around to return to his seat.

The teacher’s eyes unhappily trail behind Shaw, before she once again talks in a serious tone. “This time, everyone has to have their parents sign the exam script. I’ll check them on Monday afternoon.”

Shaw raises his eyebrows in mild disdain. It’s just a signature after all.

The old man copies the calligraphy of the Tang and Song dynasties so perfectly that even experts cannot tell. A mere signature wouldn’t be difficult.

He retrieves the stack of comics from underneath the table and puts them into his bag. With sufficient preparation for the end of school, he waits for the end-of-class bell to sound.

~

[Chapter 2: After School]

Entering June, the cicadas grow increasingly chirpier.

Over 60 years old, the antique shop shopkeeper sits on a rocking chair, fanning himself while checking Shaw’s homework. The prescription of his reading glasses is too shallow, and he has to squint. “The way you write this… Why does it look like a dog crawling. It’s so crooked.”

Shaw takes an eraser to erase a sentence he has copied wrongly. He cleans it till there is not a trace of it left. In an elevated volume, he answers, “It doesn’t matter if the words look ugly as long as I didn’t write it wrongly.”

While saying this, he feels through his pockets and takes out two exam scripts. “My teacher says this one needs a signature.”

Taking the script from him, the shopkeeper laughs until he rocks back and forth. “Kid, it’s fine if you don’t score well, but your luck couldn’t be any worse. Even if you take wild guesses, you couldn’t have gotten such low marks.”

He sits upright, sighing a few times. He folds up his fan and takes out a ball-point pen from his front pocket. With a practiced motion, he signs them.

He sighs deeply. “Shaw, since I’m not your parent, I shouldn’t be teaching you anything.”

Shaw had just closed his pencil box with a “pa”. Hearing his mentor sigh, he takes out his exercise books from his bag again, before returning to a state of studying. “All right, all right, I know what you’re going to say…”

“I won’t talk about big life lessons. Your school teacher would have talked about it more than I have. From today onwards, apart from the homework your teacher has given you, you are to write two pages worth of math questions, and copy a short essay every day. Only after you’re done will I teach you my craft.” He stands up, holding a tea cup and walking towards Shaw. “Whether you agree or not, give me an exact answer.”

Shaw doesn’t make a sound but merely furrows his eyebrows.

The shopkeeper laughs. “Just look at your capabilities - even a math question can stump you. If you can’t handle this small difficulty, how can you think of yielding something big?”

“I’ve never found math difficult. I simply don’t like math.” Shaw sets aside his exercise paper and takes out a brand new sheet. “Next time, I’ll let you sign an exam script that has 100 marks.”

“Wow, look who’s ambitious.”  

“Hmph, this is nothing.”

~

[Chapter 3: After School]

There is only one class on Wednesday afternoon. After school, Shaw carries his bag and runs towards the shop.

Once he enters, he sees his mentor eating some kind of medicine – small white and yellow pills in his palm.

“Why are you here at this time? Oh it’s… I forgot, it’s Wednesday today.” The shopkeeper talks while he turns around to walk into the kitchen. “Put down your bag and wash your hands. I bought a big watermelon!”

Shaw knows the old man has high blood pressure, some heart issues… He doesn’t have a concept of these things, but knows that it isn’t something good.

Without a sound, he puts his bag down and takes out his exercise books and practice questions.

“Don’t rush to do your homework, come eat some watermelon first.” The shopkeeper puts half a watermelon into Shaw’s arms and guides him to the outside of the store, bringing two small stools over for them to sit.

The watermelon, which was just taken out of the fridge, glistens with water droplets. The red flesh has a spoon stuck in it. Shaw scoops a big chunk from the middle. It’s very sweet.

The shopkeeper is also holding half a watermelon, but eats very slowly. Noticing Shaw staring at him, he sighs and shakes his head. “I’m old, so I can’t just eat these cold things…”

While saying this, he looks towards the drawer inside the store. “Your mentor is 62 this year.”

“When people become old, they love to talk about reason. They don’t want you to walk the crooked path they have because it’s a waste of time. You’re still young, so you think you have a lot of time to spare, so you don’t notice. I want to teach you that this is wrong. You need to spend the time of walking down a crooked path to do other things.”

After saying this, he points towards the whole street lined with antique shops. “You can’t just look at these. Learning calligraphy and painting today, and tomorrow jade, and thinking you’re living a serious life. Spending months and years to take care of this palm-sized shop – You can’t live like this. You are my disciple, and I will teach you all my skills. But apart from this, you still have to learn other things. Whatever you can learn, learn it all, and learn it well.

“You have to look at the big world, craft a career, aim higher, be more forward looking…”

He looks at Shaw affectionately. “Put in more effort, learn all my skills, and then get out of here!”

Shaw turns towards the watermelon and lets out a glum “humph”. “You’re old, but I’m still young. I still can’t differentiate plus minus multiply and divide. You’re old so you should be the one putting in more effort to live for a long time, so I can take my time to learn all these things.”

It’s summer, so the night comes late. The clock already signals the time as 6pm, but the light has not yet dispersed.

Shaw puts a brush back into the drawer, takes off his gloves and wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Old man, I’m hungry. Why not let me join you for dinner?”

In the kitchen, the shopkeeper is washing vegetables. He takes out a small box from the fridge, pulls back the curtains and returns to the shop.

“I didn’t cook your portion, but you can eat this if you’re hungry.” He removes the cover of the small paper box, and Shaw’s eyes widen.

“What, you think I wouldn’t remember your birthday?” The shopkeeper retrieves a cake from the paper box, and removes the plastic surrounding it. “Once you’re done eating, go home quickly!”

Shaw takes a spoon, muttering in a small voice, “It doesn’t matter if I go home late anyway.”

“Today is different. A child’s birthday is the same day as a mother’s suffering… But you’re too young and still can’t understand this. On other days it’s fine, but today is different…” The shopkeeper holds up his tea cup and goes to the counter.

[Note: The actual phrase is: “儿子生日母亲的苦日”, which doesn’t have a direct English translation. The meaning is that the day a child is born is also the day the mother suffers in childbirth to bring him into the world]

“I don’t know why adults don’t have an issue with you hanging out here all the time. But I can tell that you wear clean clothes every day, and that your shoes are polished. These are because of your parents. Let this old man add one line of reason – if you’re angry with your parents, you’ll regret it eventually.”

Shaw lowers his head, biting the spoon and says evasively, “No one’s angry with them.”

“You don’t call this being angry? It’s not that I’m picking on you, but boys should manage their tempers better. If you’re unhappy, you have to say it straight out, don’t just keep it boiling in your heart without a sound and then wait for someone to come coddle you. With your personality, in future, you’ll become a person who never speaks from the heart. Even when you’re with someone you like, you’d put on a front – That wouldn’t be good.”

“Old man, what are you thinking all day long?” Shaw retorts, not bothering to clean his mouth which has been dirtied with cream. “I will never have someone I like. I play soccer with a few guys in class, and they spend the entire day talking about who they like. It’s so annoying.”

The shopkeeper laughs at how Shaw says this with an air of righteousness. “Which is why I say you’re still young.”

Shaw digs into his cake and lets out a “hmph”. “I’m not young. I just haven’t grown taller.”

The shopkeeper sips his tea. “Guys do take longer to grow. Maybe you’ll be taller than me in two years.”

“Two years is way too long,” the plastic spoon dangles from Shaw’s mouth. “The best thing would be to wake up one day and suddenly be taller. Mm… I want to grow to this height. No.”

He stands on a chair, using his hands to gesture until he is satisfied. “At least here.”

The shopkeeper responds with a sweeping gaze, “That’s 180cm though.”

“180cm is very good.” Shaw sits back on the chair contentedly. “I’ll make a wish to grow to 180cm.”

~

[Chapter 5: Fate]

The shopkeeper looks at the clock on the wall, and slowly puts down his teacup.

“Since it’s your birthday, I’ll read your fortune.” He pulls open the drawer and takes out three old copper coins.

Shaw finishes up the last bite of cake and throws the packaging into a bin. “You’ve already read my fortune many times and the results are always the same. Yet you’re doing it again?”

The shopkeeper looks slightly down, but his voice remains calm. “I have nothing else to do anyway.”

The first throw, one heads and two tails.

The second throw, one heads and two tails.

The third throw, two heads and one tails.

…It’s really not much different from the last reading.

The shopkeeper shakes his head, his hand ready for the fourth throw. The copper coins fall on the table with a jingle, and a combination which has never been seen before appears – all three are negative.

“Wow, there’s a change!” The shopkeeper says in a higher pitch than usual.

In the middle of downing his drink, Shaw almost falls off his chair at the shopkeeper’s sudden outburst.

The jingles from the copper coins continue. The final two throws are no longer the same ones as before.

Shaw looks at the coins. “What does this mean?”

“It means that in the future, you will definitely not always be alone.” The shopkeeper rubs Shaw’s head with a bright smile on his face. “I was always worried about what would happen to you, with such a stubborn personality, if I weren’t around anymore…”

“Of course I wouldn’t always be alone. I’m not alone now.”

Shaw puts the three copper coins in his hands, looking like he doesn’t take the reading to heart – He has his family, pretty good friends, a few friends from the neighbouring class who buy tidbits with him. His life will continue this way.

Even though it’s a little boring, but he wouldn’t be alone.

“Also, old man, you won’t have any problems, and will definitely live for a very long time.”

Shaw speaks, and softly repeats the sentence, “You will definitely live for a very long time.”

The dusk has begun to settle outside. The shopkeeper holds the copper coins between his fingers, and gently sighs. “That’s why I say you’re still young.”

~

[Chapter 6: Birthday Present]

After packing his bag, Shaw looks at the clock on the wall – he should reach home by 7pm, just in time for dinner.

“You’re leaving already? You don’t want your birthday gift?”

The shopkeeper appears from behind the counter, tossing his gaze to the cupboard. “It’s been there for a whole day and you still haven’t found it yet.”

Usually displaying antiques, the drawer now has within it a box wrapped in colourful paper. Shaw curiously walks over and rips off the packaging, revealing a small wooden box.

A dark brown Rosewood bracelet rests in his hand.

In his eyes, this is something only an adult can have.

At his age, he would have received books, stationery, toys or models – none of which he likes.

He is always treated like a child, but he has grown up since a long time ago.

“This bracelet isn’t something expensive, it isn’t that much of an antique, but it is made of quality Rosewood.”

“If you’re bored, you can play with this, and learn to manage your temperament. You’re still young, so it’s fine if you’re still impatient and stubborn. But if you continue with this little attitude of yours, you’d lose out eventually.”

“In this line of work, you need to have patience. One, only when you manage your emotions would you remain focused. Two, good things come to those who wait.”

“The change in your life is also something you will have to wait for.”

These words completely fly over Shaw’s head. He puts the bracelet onto this wrist, coils it around multiple times until it can stay on.

“In future, no matter what you face, you have to be calm, and be patient.” The shopkeeper gently taps Shaw’s head, and frowns. “Have you committed all this to memory?”

Shaw rubs his head, his eyes still trained on his present, completely engrossed with it. “Ahh – yes I remember, I remember!”

“What do you remember?”

“Remember… that I have to hurry home for dinner!” Shaw turns around and grabs his bag, disappearing out of the shop. Before that, he raises the hand that dons the bracelet and waves.

The stars flicker, and the light is reflected in Shaw’s eyes. His eyes are smiling.

[forgive-me-your-highness]

I ask you a question. You answer a question. Repeat.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy! Although lemons are sour and I'm sweet

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Surprisingly none! I stick with my favorites, well, I am catching up on The Good Doctor right now.

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Thick fuzzy ones, they're gray knit with soft fluffy insides and have polar bear faces sewed onto the front.

Do you like smoothies?

Mhm! I make a banana/strawberry/blueberry/spinach one everyday.

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

I have some nice pants + shirt/vest duo as well as a nice navy lace dress, just depends on what I want to wear.

How do you like your eggs?

Scrambled, fried, and hard boiled in that order.

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

I fold the corner. Blasphemy I know.

What color dominates your closet?

Black or blue.

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

Hmm I used to collect funko pop's but I only collected the ones I liked and now I have them. I guess I don't collect much, sometimes shells from beaches and stuff.

What sounds or scents calm you down?

There's a specific frog audio that my mom played for me when I was very young that helped me sleep, it's turned into a comfort sound for me now. Lavender or the perfume my mom uses is also comforting.

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

I like aesthetic with pictures. I can't read to save my life.

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

Nope, although I have a feeling I might need some.

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Even if we're hours apart I still get to spend more time with them than anyone else. They take the time to talk to me and I'm always eager to relax and hang out with them. They're so smart and even helped me with a subject I struggle in.

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

Pen, if I'm writing in pencil I have to be using a mechanical one.

What are some places where you feel most at home?

My bed and room, anywhere soft and cozy. The beach too.

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

I only have one and it's an aloe plant I keep in my room. It doesn't have a name.

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

AH okay my favorite one currently! It's a light blue hoodie from Tilly's that says "Stay away please and thank you" and I absolutely live in it. Had it for a few months now.

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

Skyward Sword HD!

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

Bit morbid but either the Salem Witch Trials, Black Plague, or the disappearing of one of the British Colonies.

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

I dressed as Ariel a lot, I want to say I dressed as Merida in elementary as well.

What kind of math are you best at?

Angles and Shapes.

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Well, I don't know the period of art but anything that has to do with water color I adore.

Iced or hot drinks?

Hmm Iced.

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Um not many sadly. Was teased for doing that so I quit years ago.

Are you a good driver?

LMAO NO, I'm learning soon but I have run over a tree on a golf cart among many other things.

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Only one lobe pierced, my right one. There's a handful of tattoo's I want if I wasn't a pussy, as well as piercings. Lip and tongue definitely, nipples, more on my ears, I don't like anything too drastic I'd probably just keep studs or small hoops.

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Mhm! I bake super good brownies and my favorite thing to cook is either meat rice balls or omelets.

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Oh I have MANY. I keep a green rupee chain on my key, I have a Legend snack keychain, a Four Sword, Minish Cap Link, and Vaati on my backpack. Purse has Midna and Wild as well as Toon Zelda.

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

I can swim, not gracefully, but I certainly won't drown. I do like to swim!

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

HELL YEAH I DID! Ninjago my beloved! My favorite set I owned is probably, well it ties between, The Monastery and the Destiny's Bounty, and my original first season sets are Cole's Earth Drill from Season 2 and my Ratla Bike from Season 1!

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

At one house absolutely not. At the other I have my dresser in one half, shirts hung on other, folded sheets on the closet floor + a bin for old stuffed animals.

What’s the last music video you watched?

Umm I think Bottom of the Deep Blue by MISSIO? I'm not one for music videos but it was in a playlist.

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Oh man I've done this so many times. I'd go for a purple again or a deep ocean blue.

Headphones or earbuds?

HEADPHONES, hands down, 100%

Can you read analog clocks?

Yup! Surprisingly I was one of two people who could read one in a class so I was dubbed the time keeper.

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

I have two. One is a sesame street character I've had for years. His fur is matted down and he has been patched up so many times. I also have a newer Toothless plush I love.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Air Hockey, I kick ASS at that!

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

Not at all! So long as I don't accidentally bump them all will go smooth.

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

Hmm probably music by John Powell or Rozen.

What was the best part of your day today?

Getting to hang out with my favorite Toad, hands down. They bring so much joy!

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

Birch or Weeping Willow. Basic bitch I know.

What scent is your deodorant?

Fucking uhh pomegranate or something?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

I do yup! I like Axalochi and Bubble Pop

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

ON?? PEOPLE SHOWER WITH LIGHTS OFF?? It could be broad daylight and I still turn the light on.

What do you do with spare change?

Save it in jars. I kid you not.

Do you have good handwriting?

Ehhh it's not the best but it's not the worst.

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Heheh, Zelda/Zelda ships. So fucking good.

Do you like to go on walks?

Yes! Depending on who I'm with I love to.

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

Hmm no I don't think so. I do have favorite silverware though.

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Stay inside, open a window to listen, and chat with my friends or draw.

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

Cold, bundled in blankets, hood pulled up and sock on, cuddled up to a pillow or someone I love. Cat resting on my chest or curled up against my tummy if I'm laying on my side.

[thechosenburrito]

Intro to Love: 1.1-Free on Sunday

Word Count: 1,555

Summary:

Xochi gets partnered up with some guy named Carson for a project only to be reminded that she has no social life.

Author’s Note:

This is my first original writing!  I’ve been wanting to write fiction geared towards actual young adults, 18-25, since I grew up on stuff like Percy Jackson and Harry Potter.  Unfortunately, I’m not 12 anymore so I need something geared towards an older audience.  Hope you enjoy!

.

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.

When you hate going to class as much as I do, you learn to turn off alarms in your sleep.  Once you figure that out, it's all downhill and you'll always be late to morning classes.  You'll end up like me: throwing on a hoodie over your pajamas and running to class in flip flops.

Being late to my morning class wasn't that big of a deal.  It was an intro-level psychology lecture.  A "gimme" class compared to my others.   Plus, the class was so big that no one would notice if I came late or even showed up at all.  Except for Fridays.  Fridays were quiz days and if you weren't in class in the first 10 minutes, you didn't get a quiz AND you got a 0.  No makeups.  No dropped quizzes. I was running full sprint across campus and with no breakfast in me, the only thing keeping me going was the sheer fear of dropping a letter grade because of one quiz.

I made it to the building where my lecture hall was and threw the doors open.  This was a mistake because they were way lighter than anticipated and I ended up scaring the shit out of myself and anyone who was responsible and wanted to spend their morning studying in the common area.  Their piercing glares and furrowed brows were completely warranted.  I felt my face flush red, but I'd have to be embarrassed later because the clock on the wall read 9:07.  The elevator doors closed right when I looked at them.  If only I had telekinesis powers.  I booked it for stairs and after about 10 stairs I remembered that I forgot to take my asthma medication the night before.  Not exactly a great technique.

This time, I didn't throw the doors open.  A TA walked up to me and handed me a copy of the quiz.

"Just in time," she whispered with a raised eyebrow.

I was not even remotely prepared to speak to a human being this morning.  I managed half a chuckle and muttered something along the lines of  "Yeah, I know.".

I quickly looked around the back of the lecture hall for an empty seat, realizing that the only empty seats were at the front of the class.  Because today couldn't get any better, the sound of the door was so loud I should've just thrown them open, to begin with.  The whole lecture hall turned to look at me. The professor even paused to glance my way.  My brain chose this time specifically to reflect on my current outfit choice.  

My navy blue hoodie didn't exactly gel with my orange and black jack-o-lantern pants.  And the flip-flops didn't exactly help my cause.  I knew for a fact that I didn't brush my hair while I was running out of my dorm, which meant I probably looked like I lived in that elementary school lost-and-found bin with my wild black hair sticking out all over the place.  Not to mention I was also red and sweaty from running here.  I had only one thing on my mind as I made my way to the front row in my surprisingly loud flip-flops: "I need to get my life together.".

I sat down in the front row and quickly started my quiz, doing my best to avoid eye contact with either of the people next to me.  It was easy enough and I finished fairly quickly.  I started to pack away my things, but then accidentally made direct eye contact with my professor standing 10 feet away.  I sighed a little.  I couldn't leave early without prolonged awkward eye contact with my professor which was too much for me at the time.  I sat back in my seat.  'Ok,' I thought to myself. 'This lecture end in 25 minutes.  It should be fine".

I was definitely not fine.  Sleeping 3 hours a night does not necessarily lend itself to early morning lectures.  I started nodding off, snapping myself awake when my head hit the back of my chair.  I imagined that this is what it was like to fight off a demonic possession.  I definitely would have been taken over by the demon because I completely fell asleep.  

I jolted awake with pain in my arm.

"Ow!" I  said a little too loud.

The professor was looking right at me.   Shit.  I slept through the question.  I racked my brain for something I could say that wouldn't make me look like a complete idiot in front of everyone.

"Um.. is it.." I felt a gentle nudge.

I looked over and the guy next to me gestured to his notes.  The word "hippocampus" was written and circled at the bottom.

"...the hippocampus?" I wondered aloud.

My professor raised an eyebrow, "Yes".

I sighed and slumped back into my chair.  I scribbled a note on my paper, 'Thanks, man.  You saved my life.', and nudged him on the arm.  He looked over, saw the note on my paper, and nodded.

"Alright before I let you go, I'll go ahead and assign partners for the Trust project," she announced, taking out a clipboard. "If you're in an odd-numbered seat, your partner will be the person to your left, or one number up from yours.  Once you find your partner, check with me or a TA so we can get your names!"

God, why can't professors make things simple?  I shouldn't have to do math to figure out who my partner is.  I stood up to check my seat number, 17, and to the left was-

"Hey, looks like we're partners," He stood up and started grabbing his bag.  "I'm Carson."

I finally got a good look at him once we were both standing.  When we were sitting, I couldn't tell that he was 6 inches taller than me.  It felt awkward having to look up to talk to him.  He was wearing a red flannel over a black t-shirt and jeans.  It was exactly something I would wear at any other point in time.  His thin frame made me extra aware of my potential food-baby.  His face did seem familiar.  Maybe I'd seen him around campus? I wasn't sure.  There were so many guys like him, I probably could've seen any one of his 'clones'.

I managed an awkward smile.

"I'm Xochi.  Nice to meet you!"

I did my best to give a firm handshake.  He definitely had a stronger grip than I anticipated, but 7 years of violin gave me strong hands.

We made our way to one of the TAs.  Carson turned to me.

"I'm gonna be real,  I have no idea what this project is about.  Do you?" he whispered.

I sighed and felt a little part of me die.  That statement alone meant that I would probably be doing this whole project myself.  I figured I didn't get the sharpest knife in the Cesar.

"Uh... when's it due?"

He checked his phone, "Email says it's due on Friday.  Same as Exam 1."

"Then I'll care on Thursday," I said dryly, already taking to account how much I was going to procrastinate.

I was being dead serious but I managed a laugh out of him.  His smile was surprisingly infectious and I felt a little smile bloom.  I quickly turned away.

I gave our names to the TA at the exit.

"Carson..uh.."

"Williams"

"Williams. And Xochitl Jimenez.  It's X-O-C-H-I-T-L."

The TA nodded and Carson and I made our way down to the lobby.

"I thought your name was So-chee. You spell it with an X?" he asked curiously.

I grinned so he wouldn't know it wasn't the first time I heard this.

"Yeah... It's traditional.  It means flower.", I replied with a half chuckle.

"Huh.  That's pretty cool.  Mine just means my dad's a car.", he smirked.

I couldn't hold back my laugh.

"Ok,  you got me with that one!"

Caron smiled and pulled out his phone to check his calendar, "We probably shouldn't leave all the work to Thursday 'though, just to make our lives easier.  I can't work on it today 'cause I have Tennis practice, or tomorrow because I have a tournament.  Sunday works 'though! I'm free at noon, but at 6 I'm grabbing dinner with my friend.  Does that work for you?"

"Let me check," I said in vain as I pulled out my phone, feeling a little pang in my heart.

I looked at my calendar and pretended to look through it intensely.  My personal calendar was empty.  No plans, no meetings, no activities.  He seemed so lucky to have all that going on. Friends, a hobby, people to talk to.  I could go days, sometimes, without speaking a single word until my parent's eventually called to check on me.  I used to have lots of friends in High School.  I'd known them so long, I didn't bother to make any new ones, and going to college left me all on my own.  I couldn't even bring my instrument with me.   Being a musician was my whole life and stopping cold turkey hasn't been doing my brain any favors.  No new friends, no hobbies, no one.  I really had nothing going on.

I gave a strained smile.

"Yeah. I think I'll be free then."

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Next Chapter: 1.2-Clinic Crashers

A/N:

It has been so much writing this!  The rest of the chapters I’ve already written will be posted soon!  Chapter 2.3 Will hopefully be out tomorrow or at least some time this weekend!

[hodgepodge-of-rog]

Tutor Me This

Reposting because oops. Brian was a tutor in the early 70s I’ve been told. So this is a request by @drivenbybri and she wanted fluffy tutor Bri smut so here it is :)

Warnings: Creampie?? I know some people arent into it

Tagging: @drivenbybri @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @leah-halliwell92 @briyourmotherdown @whiskeyandroses31

You hated maths. Every class killed you, and you were failing. Your professor was starting to get frustrated, and scheduled a tutor for you. You didn’t really want one, but if it was going to get you out of your hole, you might as well. The appointment was scheduled for your apartment at 5pm, and you lazily sat on your couch, watching the clock tic by. The knock at the door startled you as you fell into a trance staring at the clock. Answering the door, your short frame looked up at the tall figure. He was slender with long dark brown curly hair. His hazel eyes immediately caught yours and you flushed. He was holding some folders, most likely notes for the session.

“Are you Y/N?” He asked with a smile.

“Y-yeah, you must be my tutor.” You answered with a bit of waver in your voice. Man he was cute.

“Brian, please.” He said. “May I come in?”

You shuffled awkwardly away from the door. “Oh, yes, sorry. Please come in.” You extended your arm, shutting the door behind him. You really noticed his height as he stepped up into the apartment, and it made you flush again. He really was very cute.

“Here,” you said guiding him over to the couch where there was a table, and an extra chair, where you said. You had him sit on the couch, you always gave you guests the more comfortable option. Brian sat down and set his folders on the table. “Have you had a tutor before?”

“No, I’ve never been as distracted as I am now to need one.” Hint number 1, dropped. Not too subtle, you thought, but if he was a tutor, he should also catch on to a little flirting. Brian chuckled and cleared his throat, opening one of the folders. “Well it’s not the end of the world, and I’ll help you as much as I can.”

You smiled, “Okay, sounds good.” You got out your notes from class and he began going over certain things with you. You definitely were trying to pay attention, but you were so distracted by how gentle his voice was. How soft he spoke. You’d hate to see him angry.

Brian however wasn’t dumb to you watching him. He could feel every look at his lips, and it spurred him on. He thought you were the cutest, most beautiful girl he’d seen in who knows how long. Something about you set him off.

“Why don’t you come sit next to me.” Brian said deeply. Your gut tightened and stood from your seat to sit with him on the couch. Your thighs were touching you sat so close, and Brian gently placed his hand on your thigh. “You know,” he began trailing his fingers up the inseam of your pants, teasing you desperately. “You’re not very smooth at dropping hints.” He chuckled, you got embarrassed and gasped. “I know you’ve been staring at me since I got here.” His hand squeezed slightly at your thigh, gaining a small whine from you. “You’re very cute, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Y-you are too, Brian.” You managed to squeak out. He turned his body toward you, and you inadvertently turned as well. He was so close to your face, you could hear the slight breaths he took through nose. “I think it’s time we’d taken a break then, hm?” He said as he leaned in closer to you, his voice just barely a whisper. Your breath was shaky, your heartbeat getting faster. He reached up and cupped your face, capturing your lips with his. Your back bent slightly as he pushed into you, but he eventually guided you to lay down.

He was now hovering over you, his leg between yours. His knee, terribly close to where you needed it most. You couldn’t help but roll your hips to try and get friction from his leg. He smirked and pressed his knee against your core, giving you that sweet relief. He pulled from the kiss and kissed down your jaw, to your neck, then nibbled there slightly. “I’d love to hear what you sound like,” his hand moved down and teased down into your waistline, earning a small breath from you. Before continuing, he stopped and looked at you. “And please tell me if I should stop.” He said seriously, not moving his hand any further. You nodded your head. “Please don’t stop. Keep going...” you whispered. He smiled and dipped his head back into your neck, nibbling up at your ear.

His hand slipped into your pants and past your underwear, just barely ghosting over your sex. “I bet you’re already wet for me, too.” He said against your ear before dipping his finger down and into your folds, gathering the slick that had accumulated. You whined as his finger just brushed your slit, causing you to buck your hips. He chuckled and leaned back to look at you. “That’s what I thought.” You whined, and he brought his finger up to your clit, rubbing slowly. “Makes it so much easier to do this, when you’re soaked like this.” His dirty talking was going to get to the best of you, and all you could do was moan in reply. God, how you want so badly to feel his cock against you, instead of his fingers.

You rolled your hips against him, moaning quietly. If just this felt this amazing, imagine what it’ll really feel like. “P-please...” you whined, a heavy breath following. Brian smiled and moved his hand lower, pushing his middle finger into you. You gasped, your hands gripping at the couch beneath you. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you, watching your expressions change. Your brow was furrowed, focusing on the amount of pleasure he was giving you.

He then began to curl his finger upward, rubbing that sweet spot over and over again. You arched your back as the waves of pleasure surged through you, your impending orgasm upon you. “O-oh God, Brian...” you panted, your grip on the couch cushions getting tighter. “Let go, Y/N... Cum for me.” He whispered against your ear, increasing the pulsing against your core. Your stomach twisted at his words, moaning loudly as your orgasm ripped through you, your walls spasming around his finger.

You came down from your high, Brian practically holding you, watching you closely. He slowly pulled his finger from you, lifting it to his mouth and licking it clean. “You taste divine,” he said with a smile, making you blush and turn away.

“Let’s go to my room...” you said sheepishly, knowing this was going to be much more than just a simple fingering. Brian smirked and easily lifted you up as he stood, carrying you to the only door in the apartment that could be a bedroom.

He gently set you down on your bed, moving your legs so that you were laying on your back. Stepping back, Brian removed his shirt and jeans, his hard cock straining terribly against his briefs. You couldn’t help but lightly gasp at the sight, seeing just how big he was. You also removed your clothing, leaving you in just your underwear and bra.

Removing his final piece of clothing, he crawled on top of you, straddling you. You looked down at his cock, which definitely looked bigger now that it was free, and took it in your hand, giving him a few pumps. He groaned deeply, trying not to buck his hips into your hand. You stopped briefly to reach behind you, unclasping your bra and tossing it to the side. Brian exhaled sharply at the sight, his hand almost shakily moving to cup your breast, gently kneading the flesh. You tilted your head back with a sigh. Just a few moments passed before Brian scooted himself back, now straddling your knees. “Think we should get rid of these...” he said lowly before hooking his fingers into the waistband if your underwear, pulling it down and under him, throwing them to the floor.

You were now completely exposed to each other, Brian taking a moment to just look at you, taking you in. “You’re absolutely stunning, Y/N,” he said sweetly, his hand going to gently rub at your hip. You smiled back, even if a little embarrassed. You never were very good at accepting compliments. “You’re not so bad yourself, Brian.” You replied playfully, your hand moving to lay on top of his, rubbing the back of it sweetly. There was definitely a spark between the two of you, and you both could feel it.

Now shifting his body, he sat himself between your legs, positioning himself at your dripping center. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down your slit, pushing especially hard at your clit. You were so incredibly wet, no lube was needed. Brian teased your entrance, just barely pushing the head in. “Please, Brian...” you begged, rolling your hips against him.

“Please what?” He cheekily poked at your slit.

“P-please fuck me,” you said meekly, looking away.

Without entering you, Brian leaned forward and gently kissed your cheek, slowly kissing to your ear. “That’s a good girl...” and with that, gently pushed into you, bottoming out with his hips against yours. Your breath hitched at his words, and turned into a deep moan as he pressed into you. His breathing against your ear alone was enough to make you orgasm again.

He pulled away to look at you, taking his hand to gently move your face towards his. “I want to watch you.” He said quietly, with a sweetness to his voice. Your face flushed at the request, nodding gently. He smiled before pulling his hips back, then slowly pushing them into you. He began slowly, but then picked up a rhythm. He thrusted into you at a decent pace, the tip of his cock just brushing your g-spot every time he pushed in. Your hand reached up and grabbed at his biceps, which were on either side of your head.

“God, fuck me, Brian!” You cried out, enticing him to increase his thrusts, to which he complied. He started to fuck you, and hard. The bed just barely squeaking at the force he was putting into his thrusts. “F-fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.” He praised you, keeping eye contact as he continued his pace.

You watched him as your mouth hung open and your moans and pants let out with each wild thrust he gave you, your eyes scanning his. He was so beautiful, and damn he was making you feel so good. You felt your second orgasm creep up on you, causing you to dig your nails into his skin. “Fuck, Brian, I’m gonna cum...” you moaned out, your sounds getting louder the more he pressed on.

Somehow, he managed to push into you even harder, pulling your hips into him with each thrust. This sent you tumbling over the edge, your walls clenching around his cock. His own panting got heavier, and his eyes were threatening to close. “Where do you want it?” He asked with a strain in his voice.

“Inside me, please.”

Your answer was the trigger, and with a few hard thrusts, he came inside of you, coating your walls, your body milking him for all he was worth. He just barely collapsed on top of you, giving a minute for the both of you to catch your breath.

Within about a minute, Brian chuckled before pulling out, and moving to walk into the bathroom for a cloth. You watched him still totally exhausted, laying there like a used toy. He came back with a warm wet cloth, and gently cleaned up the mess he had made. You smiled at him, as no one else has ever bothered to clean you up before. “Thank you...” you began, moving to sit up. “But why did you laugh?” You asked, not ignoring the fact that he indeed did laugh.

Brian smiled and sat on the bed with you, laying the cloth on the end table. “Because I’ve never really slept with someone I’ve tutored before.” He laughed again, sighing after. “And I’ve never fallen for someone like this either.” He said as he looked at you, a tenderness in his eyes. You watched him intently, your heart nearly thumping out of your chest. “W-well I can say the same. I like you, Brian...” you said quietly, looking away.

He gently grabbed your chin and pulled you to him, kissing you sweetly. He rested his forehead against yours as he pulled away, giving another sigh. “I want you to want me, too, Y/N.” The tone of his voice seemed sincere enough, and you took in a small breath. “I want you Brian...” you answered, a smile on your face.

“I guess I’ll be coming over for tutoring more often then.” He said with a laugh, watching your body move as you laughed with him. “I guess so.” You smiled, looking into his hazel green eyes.

“I’d like that.”

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Nine

A/N: soooooo, last minute I decided to torture you guys:) I made the chapter into 2 parts, next part will be posted tomorrow night. I'm prepared to be cussed out in the comments 😤 love y'all tho

Also, I'm saving the picture for the next part because *cough cough* so I'm sorry if this appears a little naked.

Words: 2.6k

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse

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S e p t e m b e r 1 9 8 7

“Where are you--”

I’m shut up with the sound of Nikki slamming the door before I can finish asking him where he’s going, and I let out a heavy breath.

"--Going." I finish my question with a heavy sigh.

We’ve only been off the road for a couple days and tomorrow is our last day home, so we decided it’d just be easier for us to stay at the house instead of one of us sleeping elsewhere, but he’s been staying somewhere else every night we’ve been home...I don’t want to know who he’s been staying with or what they’ve been doing, so I haven’t bothered to ask.

I glance at the clock, seeing it’s 5:47pm, and go ahead and assume that since he’s been leaving the house around this time every day and hasn’t been coming back until the next morning, that he’s not coming home again until tomorrow.

Which means I’m by myself, being that Karen is on a small vacation ever since we’ve been home and she hasn’t been having to watch our house.

“Great.” I sarcastically mumble to myself, deciding to start on dinner, Whisky staying under my feet. "If Daddy isn't careful, I'm going to choke him with his own hair." I say to him and he looks up at me with a wagging tail and big smile. "Glad we can agree."

I get one pan out of the cabinet before I’m putting it on the counter, and sighing out.

“You know what? I don’t want to cook.” I state, putting the pan back, shutting the cabinet door, and stepping to the phone, dialing a number.

It rings a couple times before the line is picked up, and I smile at the voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Stevie, it’s Viv.” I tell him.

“Hey, babe, what's going on?" He asks me.

"I'm looking for Duff, do you know where he is?" 

"He's in the shower." He replies. "You want me to tell him you're on the line?"

"No, it's okay, just tell him to gimme a call ba--"

"--Duff, it's Viv!" I hear Steven scream and I cringe, pulling the phone away from my ear a little. 

I hear Duff's muffled reply, opening my mouth to tell Steven that I'll call back later, but I'm being cut off again. 

"I said, 'Viv's on the line'!" Steven yells again, hearing Duff respond. "He's coming." Steven assures me.

"Stevie, you could've waited until he was out of the shower." I comment. 

"Trust me, Viv, he would want me to interrupt him if it's for you." He states. "Ok, he's here, I love you, bye."

"Love you, bye." I reply. 

"Hey." Duff takes over.

"Hey, I'm sorry I interrupted your bathing, I tried telling Stevie you could just call me back later." 

"No, no, Viv, you're fine." He assures me. 

"Oh."

"What's up?" He asks and I look around my kitchen.

"Um...I was just wondering if you're free tonight?"

The line is quiet for a second and I raise my brows, rubbing my lips together, waiting for him to say something. 

"...Hello?" 

"Oh, yeah, s-sorry, you wanna do something or something or--I mean, like you wanna hangout? B-Because I'm free, ya know. Yeah." He stutters out awkwardly and I hold back a laugh. 

"Smooth." I hear Steven comment in the background. 

"Dude, shh!" Duff replies in a whisper. "Um, anyway, yeah, I'm not busy."

"Okay, I was gonna order take out if that's okay with you?"

"Whatever you want is fine with me." He offers. 

"Okay." I reply. 

There's a long pause and the both of us finally try to talk at the same time:

"Alright, well--"

"Cool, so--"

We stop for a second, the two of us chuckling a little. 

"Sorry, you go." He tells me. 

"I was gonna say, 'I'll see you in a few minutes'." I say. 

"Good deal, I'll see you then." He agrees. 

"Okay."

"Okay."

Again, another awkward silence. 

"...Okay."

"Okay."

The phone is suddenly hanging up, the dial tone in my ear, and I quirk a brow, before putting the phone back on the hook. 

I wasn't sure why things were so freaking awkward with us, nothing had changed, nothing had happened. I hadn't seen him since the Playboy shoot a month and a half prior, so I didn't understand what exactly shifted.

I hear the doorbell ring and Whisky starts barking while I grab the Chinese takeout boxes and some silverware. 

"Whisky, who is it?" I ask him sweetly as I step to the door, opening it to see all six feet, four inches of Duff. 

He's in a CBGB t-shirt and black jeans, a bag of gummy worms and a six pack of Pepsi in hand. 

"Hi." He says, and I step aside and let him in as Whisky immediately starts sniffing at him, starting at his boot, up his leg, and I politely keep him from getting too personal as soon as his nose goes for his crotch. 

"Ohhhkay, Whisky, that's enough." I tell him, nudging him away from Duff as he hands me the Pepsi and candy, crouching down to pet him. 

"No, it's fine. He's just trying to know me." Duff chuckles, he and Whisky bonding the second his fingers move over the back of Whisky's ears, making him melt like butter in Duff's hands.

After a few minutes of me putting our food on plates and him going to wash his hands, we're finally eating in the living room floor, at the coffee table, with the dog eating his food several feet away, despite coming over to try to eat some of ours every now and then. 

"So, like, apparently Nikki's trying to get you guys a spot on the tour." I inform him and he raises his brows. 

"Really?"

"Yeah. Slash and Stevie have been conspiring and shared it with Nikki...and he loves you guys so he and Tommy and Vince and Mick are down for it. He's been pestering Doc and Doc said he'd contact your manager a little later." I add.

"Well, we've got some shows coming up to promote the album but, I mean, I don't see the harm in going on tour with them." He shrugs. "It'd be good exposure." 

"It would."

"I don't know." He shakes his head a little, swallowing another bite of Lo mein, and I furrow my brows. "I just expected more people to buy 'Appetite'. And they would, if we had our video on MTV, and radio actually played us." He vents. "We're just chomping at the bit, ready to run our asses off the second the race starts, and nobody's firing the fucking starting gun."

The radio was afraid to play them, MTV refused to put their video for "Welcome to the Jungle" on air because John Malone (who owned half of the cable-houses that broadcasted MTV) only saw them as a heroin band, and promoting them wouldn't sit right with his strong Republican, conservative,"christian" morale...so he threatened to drop MTV if they played Guns N' Roses.

"I can talk to Doc and see if he can pull any strings. I mean if they'll play Mötley Crüe--"

"--Tom is vouching for us to anyone that will listen." He explains. "Right now it's not something to worry about, but if it's still like this six months from now, we need to panic a little."

"There's no way in hell it's gonna take six months for you guys to pick up traction." I state in disbelief.

"Viv--"

"--If six months from now you guys still aren't on MTV, I'll harass whoever I need to, to make it happen. I'll go to their houses." I promise and he shakes his head, chuckling. 

I was serious, and I ended up delivering on that.

"None of them are worth the trouble. Just a bunch of money-hungry hypocrites hiding behind religion to validate their assbackwards logic." He shrugs. 

"You sound like my dad." I point out and he smiles, taking another bite of food as I sip from my bottle of Pepsi. 

He stares at me for a moment before I'm raising my brows, silently asking him what's up. 

"So, like, how is your dad so cool and your mom is so…" he trails off and I take a breath, shrugging a little. 

"That's how she was raised. I mean, I know that's not an excuse but her mom and dad were both that way on her and my aunt--my aunt obviously cracked under the pressure and just gave up trying to please them back when she was a teenager. My grandparents have been dead for years now but my mom still acts like she's trying to make them happy." I mumble. "Which, according to my dad, she wasn't always like that. She did a small 'wild' thing one time, and got knocked up with me." 

"What?!" He gawks. 

"They got married seven months early to avoid her parents knowing what they had done." I add.

"Dude, imagine losing your virginity and getting pregnant from it." He tries to hold back a laugh. 

"My mom always told me I was planned, and once I was old enough to do the math between my birthday and their anniversary, I put the pieces together and my dad finally told me what happened when I turned sixteen." 

He nods, and licks his lips, awkwardly clearing his throat before saying:

"So...what about your first time?" 

I scoff, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 

"Um, seventeen, Nikki, their roach-motel apartment." 

"You've only dated one guy?" 

"Yeah." I nod. 

"Wow…" he says it like it's hard to believe. 

"What's that mean?"

"I just expected you to have dated a couple more guys before settling on Nikki." He replies. 

"I didn't settle for Nikki." I tell him, matter of fact. "Being with him was a good idea at the time." I add. 

"Nah, I get it. That's how it was with my first big-boy girlfriend." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah."

"What happened to her?"

He takes a second, taking in a heavy breath, but trying to keep things light with his smile. 

"We were, like, kids basically. Like sixteen/seventeen, and I had to go out of town to visit some family, and when I got back she told me she had hooked up with this dude at a party while I was away. And we broke up, and then got back together, and then things were good for another year until the big heroin epidemic hit Seattle." He informs me. "It got its hooks in her and wouldn't let go. I finally just had to break things off because I couldn't watch her kill herself in an overdose like some of my friends had already done, and I left for L.A. shortly after. I know that's selfish but ignorance is bliss. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I were to ever find out she'd died." There's a small gloss to his eyes, like he's holding back a few tears. 

"That's not selfish." I tell him, shaking my head. "Some people aren't meant to be in our lives forever. Some are just there to grow you in some way and if it's not God's will for them to stay around you he gives you the strength to just walk away." I suggest. 

"Is that what's happening with you and Nikki?" He asks next, looking at me. "He's giving you the strength to walk away?" 

"God's ignoring me currently so I wouldn't know." I admit. "He wants me to stay with Nikki, but Nikki won't even say whether or not he truly wants a divorce. He just avoids the conversation. I think he feels like if he ignores it, the issue will resolve itself."

"Well...what do you think? I mean, has anyone asked how you feel about this? Like having to make people think you guys are together and stuff." 

"It doesn't really matter how I--or even Nikki--feels."

"Okay, Vivian, I didn't ask about Nikki, alright?" He politely tells me and I sigh. 

"I'm miserable." I finally get it out. "We pose for pictures in magazines, still, a-and pile on the PDA anytime press is around and it freaking sucks. Because we're arguing more and more lately so it's like as soon as we get inside we're going back to being mean to each other. And I'm over him, like I've accepted the fact that we're more than likely divorcing, I've gotten all of it out of my system, but the waiting and dragging it out for another year is just getting to me." A couple tears topple over my lashes. 

"If you want out then get out, Viv." He says to me. 

"It's not that simple, Duff."

"Yes, it is. You're just waiting for Nikki to tell you he wants to work things out, and using Doc telling you guys to hold off on any decisions until the tour is over, as an excuse." He states, as noninvasive as possible and I hate to hear the truth. "If you wanna stay, stay, if you want to leave him, leave him. You shouldn't have to explain yourself either way. It's your own business but at least be honest with yourself and call it what it is."

"I will when you do." I argue and he looks at me with raised brows. 

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, please, Duff, you act like this when you're sober but then when you're drunk you're telling me you love me." I state. "You're not being honest with yourself, either."

His brows furrow.

"Viv, what the fuck am I suppose to do? Huh? You're married. You've been married."

"Barely." 

"What do you want me to do about it?" He defensively chuckles out. 

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" 

"Nikki's done a lot for me and the band, and I don't want to disrespect you or him so I've kept to myself, alright? So just leave it at that and let's finish eating because I got rehearsal tomorrow." He tries to change the subject. 

"He had an entire mistress, Duff, telling me how you really felt about me wouldn't have--"

"--You wanna know how I really feel about you? Fine. I don't understand how someone so beautiful and insanely kind could fucking exist, but you do. My hands get all weird and sweaty and gross when you're around. I can barely walk at times because my legs feel like jello anytime I'm talking to you. It pisses me off that you're so talented and a fucking genius but all you see is how you aren't good enough because you aren't the 'type' that guys like Nikki usually desire--but I'm telling you now, people stare at you anywhere we go like you're healing lepers or something and it's definitely not because they think you're ugly. I know what my boundaries are and would never purposely do something that would make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry I said that to you when I was shitfaced. I'd much rather have told you when I was sober, but there's never been a point of me telling you because--"

"--Tell me." I cut him short. "You're sober." I point out, shifting to my knees. "So tell me." 

He licks his lips, his breathing picking up slightly as he looks me dead in the eyes. 

"I love you." He tells me. "I love you, Vivian." He repeats it, more confidently. "I have since the day we met."

I nod a little, my eyes getting teary and I'm kissing him before I can talk myself out of it. 

[bitchardhendricks]

Well I’ve Never Been to Heaven (But I’ve Been to Oklahoma) pt 11

As you can imagine, I’ve been having a lot of feelings about my hometown this week in particular. But while on a national stage it’s painted as being full of fanatical zealots hellbent on worshipping at the altar of a fascist demagogue, the reality that I’ve seen from the majority of its citizens this week is compassion, empathy, care, and concern. That mix is the brutal reality of the place that made me - a place not unlike a lot of your own hometowns, if I had to guess. I think overall, that’s the feeling I want to capture in all the parts of Tulsa fic. I wrote this part weeks and weeks ago, before any mention of the rally, but it feels fitting to post this week. I hope you’re all doing well out there, staying strong, staying safe, and taking care of each other.

***

They spend a few hours exploring the myriad shelves at Gardner’s; every time they walk into another room, Jared expects them to finally reach the end of the labyrinth, and every time there’s yet another room beyond. Richard shows Jared the spot tucked into a corner by the sci-fi section where he would spend long summer afternoons discovering new worlds with Bradbury and Asimov, Heinlein and Herbert. 

Jared finds a used Pioneer Woman cookbook to buy for Diane - “Do you think she’d like this? I noticed she didn’t have this one when I was perusing her cookbooks this morning.” 

Richard has no idea, but tries to be enthusiastic. “Um. I mean, yeah, probably, she’ll love it.”

Richard wonders what it must be like to be a person who notices things like that, makes notes of gifts to buy for people. Someone who’s thoughtful and kind and just fucking nice. He wonders, not for the first time, why Jared isn’t somewhere better, with better people, people who are like him. He wonders, also not for the first time, if his vision - Pied Piper, the company, changing the world one compressed byte at a time - is worth enough for Jared to stick around when the reality (when Richard himself) is so vastly disappointing. 

He stops paging through back issues of Fantastic Four and looks up to watch Jared flipping through records in the section across the aisle from him. Sometimes Jared’s very existence throws Richard off-balance. His posture, his competence - everything about Jared is so put together and accomplished, like he’s been practicing for hours every day to make being a grown-up look so simple. His long, nimble fingers move over the records with ease and surety. Like a pianist, Richard thinks. Good with his hands. Jared must feel the weight of his gaze, and he looks up with a bemused expression that Richard knows means, Goodness, I’m so sorry, was I being too distracting? Richard’s face grows inexplicably warm. He shakes his head sheepishly - no, you’re ok - and Jared goes back to browsing. 

He only watches for a minute or so before another guy squeezes past him trying to get to the Daredevil comics, and he jumps guiltily out of the way. “Hey Jared, we should ah, get going. Lots more to see.”

As they pay for their purchases, the sunny blonde cashier’s hand lingers against Jared’s long pianist fingers when she hands him his change. 

Richard snatches his bag of books out of her hands and stalks off before she can finish saying, “Have a nice day!” 

***

They drive for 15 minutes or so, the air conditioner cranked up, until Richard slows down in front of a huge pavilion with a banner advertising GUN SHOW flapping disconsolately in the muggy June air. Jared pales, hit by a vivid memory of a Saturday afternoon spent with Uncle Jerry and his friends at a civic center filled with the smell of testosterone and gun oil and the sounds of boisterous laughter and Lynyrd Skynyrd bouncing off the concrete walls. “Richard, I don’t--” he begins, but the car pulls into a neighborhood directly across from the huge building.

Richard puts it in park and turns to see the look on Jared’s face. “Oh - fuck, Jared, did you think I was taking you to an actual gun show? Jesus, c’mon man. No, it’s ah,” he opens his door and stands up, wedged in the vee of the car door and turning to point. “Better angle from here. See the statue? It’s the Golden Driller.”

Jared also gets out of the car to look and follows Richard’s indication. Towering above the pavilion is what looks to be a giant man made of stone the color of sand standing next to an oil derrick. The figure he cuts is imposing - Jared estimates he must be at least 7 stories tall, with his workman’s boots the size of school buses splayed shoulder-width apart, one hand on his hip and one hand resting possessively on top of the massive derrick like a hunter posing with a prized kill. His face is cut in austere lines, a square jaw, a long slash of a nose, a heavy brow hidden under a hard hat of some kind with a wide brim. He’s shirtless, and his broad shoulders narrow to a waist with a belt around it that says TULSA.

“He’s very tall,” Jared says, which makes Richard laugh. With a darted glance to confirm Richard isn’t laughing at him, Jared also laughs, surprised and a little dizzy. 

“This is like - he’s THE symbol of Tulsa, you know. The baseball team is named after him, the stadium. When I was a kid, I was obsessed with this statue, we’d pass it and I’d just start like,” Richard mimes shaking his fists back and forth in the air in wild jubilation, “‘It’s the Tulsa Driller!’ I don’t even know why, heh. Kid stuff. I think probably everyone who lives here has a picture of themselves with that statue. It’s like a Tulsa rite of passage.”

He reaches over the roof of the Camry palm up and looks at Jared, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Wanting, expectant. Jared can hardly stand it, rooted to the spot and captured by that look as neatly as a rabbit in a snare. With a sly grin, Richard finally speaks. “C’mon, gimme your phone. You wanted to document the trip, right?”

A Tulsa rite of passage, he thinks, and fumbles in his pocket for his phone. Richard unlocks it with his fingerprint - thank goodness for the day Jared had insisted they spend setting up their emergency contacts and preparedness protocols - and gestures for Jared to come around the car and pose in frame with the colossal statue. “A little to the right - ah, my right, sorry - and uh, put your hands y’know - “ Richard half-attempts the Driller’s pose and ends up more akin to a little teapot before he aborts the gesture, embarrassed. “OK, look stern. You’re an oil man now, you gotta - yeah, that’s, that’s great,” he says, giggling as Jared puts on an exaggerated scowl. The shutter clicks in rapid succession as Richard crouches down, getting a better angle. “Yes, perfect, you’re a natural, Jared,” he teases lightly and Jared’s scowl disappears, replaced with a grin so wide he hears his jaw creak. 

Richard lets the phone fall from in front of his face for a second, faltering, and just looks at Jared with a matching grin that’s febrile, electric, before taking a few more photos. When he hands the phone back to Jared, he avoids any further eye contact, looking down at the ground and hurrying back to hop in the car. 

Jared follows, hoping the spell hasn’t been entirely broken on this inexplicable wonder of a day. As they drive to their next destination, Richard is quiet, contemplative. Just as Jared is about to ask if there’s something bothering him, Richard breaks the silence. “There’s a plaque by the Driller - we went to Expo Square there, that building, on a field trip in middle school for some like, multicultural fair, I don’t know. But my teacher, she made a huge deal about this plaque, right, and I still remember it, it, it said something like um, ‘Golden Driller, dedicated to the men of the petroleum industry, who um..with their uh vision and bravery uh, benefitted all mankind.’” 

“Ah. Perhaps not all,” Jared cedes, and Richard nods furiously. 

“Right, like, I mean look how that fucking worked out for everybody. And they’re y’know, displacing Native Americans and like, if you’re not white you’re fucked, and just annihilating the goddamn planet, and they’re building monuments to themselves like they’re so, so fucking magnanimous. Right?” He grips the steering wheel with knuckles going white and Jared nods along with him, attempting to remain afloat on the tempestuous sea of Richard’s emotions. 

“You’re thinking of Gavin,” he says, and Richard’s jaw clenches mutinously in a way that tells Jared he’s right. The wound that Gavin has inflicted upon Richard’s soul is so raw and ragged, even after all this time, and it makes Jared ache to see him lash out like this, a proud lion tortured by the venomous thorn in his paw. 

“He doesn’t have a case, Richard - you know that and I know that. In the annals of history, people will remember Richard Hendricks far longer than they’ll ever remember Gavin Belson, and not because you erect monuments to your greatness in the sky. The most enduring legacies are built by leaders who inspire love, not fear.”

Richard snorts, “Great. I can’t inspire either one for shit.”

The words clamor in his throat like a swarm of bees, and he can’t quite keep them contained. With his hands clutched tight in his lap, Jared says in a rush, like a compulsion, “Oh, Richard, that’s just not true.” 

Richard glances at him, looks away. Glances back. Jared offers up a smile he hopes is reassuring rather than ghoulish, and decides the safest course of action is to redirect Richard’s focus away from Gavin. This is supposed to be a vacation, after all. “Anyway, let’s focus on Tulsa and all her hidden wonders. Where are we going next on the grand Hendricks magical mystery tour?”

The digital clock in the car reads 4:50, and Richard appears to do some mental math in his head. He shifts in his seat, perking up a little, and Jared breathes out a sigh of relief. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.

“We’ve got time for one more thing and it’s...well,” Richard taps on the steering wheel in a beat Jared is coming to recognize as his tell when he’s eager, excited to show off something. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

[thesimperiuscurse]

FINE. All of them for EVA. Jerk

NO U. aight i’m gonna answer these for the start of chapter 6, two weeks from the end of chapter 5. 

zinc white; how are you really feeling today? no one-word answers please! 

ready to kick ass, make the most of her work day, determined for upcoming regionals and exams. nothing is yet to trouble her.  

cadmium yellow; when you think of the word “happy” what’s the first thing that comes to mind? 

the faces of her family. they are what she loves most in the world. 

lemon; what’s your comfort food?

in winter, her mom makes rich and creamy soups with veggies from the garden. pair that with soft buns fresh from the oven, and it’s guaranteed to comfort eva on the coldest and dreariest days.  

hansa yellow; what’s your guilty pleasure song? 

classic justin timberlake songs, like cry me a river. 

yellow ochre; name an artist/band whom you just discovered & can’t get enough of! 

just yesterday i found a new one for eva, an electronic artist named kloud. there’s one song in particular, humans, the lyrics and intense beat of which she’s super vibing with.    

naples yellow; where do you feel most at home?

the family villa in malibu. cherry and gabriel made sure to raise their children in a happy, secure, peaceful home. no repeat of their own turbulent and traumatic childhoods. 

raw sienna; with whom do you feel most at home?

again, her family. 

golden ochre; describe the relationship you have with your closest friend. 

eva doesn’t have a best friend. all the people she’s really close to are members of her family. she’s always been far too ballet-focused to maintain deep relationships with anyone outside of her family. however, she’s now growing very comfortable with sasha, piper, misha, and mako. they’re all quite bantery with each other. 

golden deep; what’s your favorite season? 

summer. always. 

cadmium orange; what do you like to do on your days off? 

her day off is sunday. currently — she wakes up at 8:30, has a slow breakfast with piper in the cafe, checks in with the academy physiotherapist at 11:00, and the rest of the day is loosely scheduled for gym, procrastinating maths homework, kickboxing, visiting family, playing her guitar, or watching netflix.   

orange lake; do you have anyone you can turn to when you’re sad? 

she has a super strong support system in all her family members, but her mom in particular. cherry is always checking up by call whether her daughter is happy and healthy. 

titans; do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings? 

slow mornings. eva can’t wake up before eight, and if she’s forced to, she’ll get cranky. she wakes up when the sun does. 

shakhnazaryan red; are you currently binge-watching anything? 

not binging, but she’s slowly working through sex education on netflix. 

red ochre; are you more right-brained (creative) or left-brained (analytical)? 

right-brained. she can’t analyse for shit, unless she’s working something out using empathy and emotional intelligence. like misha, in that sense. 

burnt sienna; is there a painting that brings you peace when you look at it? 

she’s not one to enjoy the silent purity of art galleries. she prefers to explore nature and breathe in the ever-changing beauty of the earth. the sight of the sea always brings her peace. 

english red; what animal do you relate to most? 

probably a dumb but very cute and energetic dog.

vermilion; what’s your favorite accent?

scottish? she finds limmy’s show hilarious.  

cadmium red; do you have a “type” when it comes to a significant other? 

for summer boyfriends: hot surfer boys, tall and athletic, that have a big smile and laugh, laidback yet adventurous, sunkissed with messy sea-salted hair. in other words, mako ain’t it. for a significant other: she hasn’t thought about it. a serious romantic relationship is not in her interest for now.  

scarlet; describe your current crush/es. 

no crushes. or at least, she hasn’t realised she has one yet. hehe.  

ruby; what does your ideal first date look like? 

eva doesn’t actually go on proper dates. she can’t be bothered with awkward conversations and formalities. she might grab an icecream with a guy, surf and play sports, or go to a bonfire beach party together.    

carmine; what does your ideal second date look like? 

hook up with him, i guess. 

madder lake red; would you ever kiss someone (or accept a kiss) on a first date? 

if it isn’t clear by now, eva gives absolutely zero fucks about traditions or ‘rules’ around dating. her relationships are in friend-with-benefits territory, and she goes straight for what she wants.

rose; what’s something really positive going on in your life right now?

the family puppy, senor papperino. her siblings send her a million pictures of him as he grows up. a bittersweet joy.  

quinacridone rose; what’s something you’re really looking forward to?

her cousin amaya is getting married to amir next year, a spring wedding in the sonoran desert. eva’s helping her with the planning and dress design, which lilith is to create.     

violet rose; what does your dream house look like? 

a simple beach house, warm with natural light, that sits gently in nature. small, because her time spent inside is minimal. she really isn’t impressed with flashy luxuries.  

violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down? 

a place right by the beach. she loves malibu and would want to stay close to her family. 

blue lake; what would you like to do/accomplish before you settle down? 

honestly, ‘settling down’ is something she’s barely thought about. she’s going to dance professionally as long as she can, maybe become a teacher like darcy, and explore her other passions, like surfing and environmental conservation. the traditional concept of marrying then having children is one that she feels may happen to her naturally, rather than she HAS to settle down at a specific point in her life. it’s just not on her priority list. 

cobalt blue spectral; what is the most beautiful place you have ever been to?

the most beautiful place in the world in eva’s mind is the garden at her family home, which blooms with dandelion clocks in summer, full of fruit trees, and is right by her favourite beach. her happiest childhood memories lie there. 

ultramarine; when was the last time you were in a good mood? do you know/remember what sparked it? 

at the moment, eva’s always in a good mood, because she’s in a place where she’s working at her greatest passion everyday. she’s friends with mako now, so the only person that could really put her in a bad mood is vicky. 

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember? 

she can’t remember any of her dreams. 

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? how many of each? 

since eva doesn’t really care about getting married, that hasn’t crossed her mind. she already has a broad, loving, ‘dream’ family, and her siblings are bound to have kids, so she doesn’t feel any pressure. she would be perfectly happy spending time with her nieces/nephews instead. a cute dog is a definite, though, probably another golden retriever.  

blue cobalt; do you like your name? would you give yourself a different name if you could? 

evangeline’s named after one of the strongest women in her life. she’s proud to have inherited the name, and hopes to live up to it.  

prussian azure; what’s your favorite scent? 

grapefruit, sea salt. 

azure blue; what’s your favorite type of tea, if any?

she’s a coffee person, but in summer, her mom likes to brew iced tea with fruits and herbs from the garden, which eva loves. 

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant?

lots of citrus trees. plants that can grow wild and thrive on their own. 

cerulean blue; if you were guaranteed to have a viewership, would you start a youtube vlog? 

i can picture eva vlogging, but in reality she’s too busy dancing for that shit. she prefers to live her life off screen, grounded in her reality.  

glauconite; describe your body without using any negative adjectives.

“jacked as fuck”

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario?

a field of tiny wildflowers on the dry coastal hills of malibu. the sun is burning bright, the sea is crashing against the beaches below, the wind is pulling wild at her hair. 

green light; are you in a comfortable place in life? if not, what do you think might make it better?

eva’s always striving to be more than just comfortable. her ambition means she’s already achieved an impressive amount in life, and she’s happy with how she’s moving along, but she’s forever shooting for the stars. 

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them?

she can’t afford to travel at the moment but hawaii, spain, greece.  

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn? 

a tiny bit of spanish, korean, and german from gabriel, but nowhere near fluently. she would like to improve her skills in those languages if she has the time.  

oxide of chromium; what’s your favorite book?

eva isn’t bookish. she just can’t sit still long enough. when she was a kid, she did love the magic slipper series, written by one of the prima ballerinas she idolises. 

olive green; are you currently reading anything? how do you like it so far?

her calculus textbook. she wants to set it on fire.  

mars brown; what’s a movie that always puts a smile on your face/makes you laugh? 

she likes cheesy 90s era movies. she’s the man always makes her laugh. 

burnt umber; what’s something you plan to do before the day is over to take care of yourself?

an ice bath and self massage for her legs, if pointe work is particularly intense, treat any new blisters or bleeding on her feet. typical ballet things. 

umber; have you drank enough water today? 

eva is always mindful to drink eight cups of water per day. 

voronezhskaya black; what or who is your go-to outlet for when you need to vent? 

amaya. she listens coolly, and provides helpful commentary. a few weeks ago, eva vented to her about mako and how much of an ‘arrogant ass’ her partner is. after she finished letting off steam, amaya asked her what the exact reasons for disliking him were, which helped eva realise her own stubbornness, haha. 

sepia; name five things that always make you happy.

perfect surf waves, a hug from her parents, adding a new piece of jewellery to her minimal gold collection, warm sunny weather, camping with her siblings.     

indigo; what’s the best/sweetest compliment you have ever received?

she’s received a lot of ‘you’re pretty’ type compliments from guys over the years, but what makes her happiest is compliments about her dancing, particularly from professionals. 

payne’s gray; describe your aesthetic? 

summer beach chick, relaxed shades of sea blue and white froth, minimalist, with a rough edge.   

black; post a selfie because you are so beautiful!

nah i’m too lazy to open the game at the moment. anyway, eva doesn’t really take selfies by herself, since she’s not that active on social media. 

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Take Me Back to School

  Twenty-seven different faces looked up from spots on the carpet, quiet and attentive. It had become much easier to have them finish up post-snack playtime and clean up on Fridays. While they were well-behaved most of the time, they were beyond attentive at the end of the week. And I didn’t have to wonder why. A one-time visit had become a weekly routine. Every Friday at two o’clock, Adam came to read to the class.

           He’d started with Adam and the Golden Horseshoe. Then it was The Gingerbread Cowboy and Lulu is a Rhinoceros and Where the Wild Things Are. They begged him to come stay for longer and longer periods of time. They didn’t want after-story playtime. Instead, they wanted Adam to help with their letters and counting. He was their favorite person in the world.

           And he loved it. He loved coming and reading books and playing and helping them with their counting blocks. One afternoon, I told him we were talking about consequences. The next thing I knew, Adam was at our dinner table with the entire If You Give A Mouse a Cookie series and pads of paper, creating worksheets and activities to do with the kids. It was desperately adorable to see him there with the books spread out, his computer open, glasses on as he tried to find things to do with them when he came for his Friday visits.

           Today, there was a surprise. Adam had promised on that very first visit that he would read The Young Bucks Stand Tall and Cody Heart of the Mountain. But when he’d returned for his second visit, the kids had picked out a pile of books that they wanted him to read. When he’d visited last week, he told them that he was reading his book about two brothers who get bullied.

           And, today, Adam hadn’t come alone.

           “You guys have done fantastic today. You were on the dots before I asked! Why is that?” I asked, grinning at them.

           Claudia, a little girl with long dark hair in a Katniss braid, waved her hand in the air. I pointed at her and she beamed. “Because it’s time for Adam to visit.”

           “It is?” I said dramatically. “How do you know?”

           Another set of hands waved in the air. I pointed to a smiling boy named Sean. “Because it’s Friday and the clock is almost blue!”

           “Very good, Sean. Remember when we painted our reading clock blue so we would know when it was time for Adam to come.” I looked around at them, so proud of how much they were learning. “Today, he’s brought a surprise. He’s brought friends with him!”

           I looked up and nodded to my assistant who, like every week, waited by the door to let our guests inside. As soon as she opened the door, Adam slipped inside, a broad grin on his face. He was wearing one of The Elite shirts with his jeans and boots. The two guys who followed him were dressed the same, except they wore sneakers and one of them wore a baseball cap.

           “Hi, Adam!” Twenty-seven voices said all at once.

           He beamed and waved. “Hi, guys. I hope you don’t mind if I brought some friends?”

           They shook their heads. Nick and Matt grinned behind him as they followed him up to the front. I stood and moved over two more stools for them to sit on. Then I moved around to the kidney table at the back of the room. During his first few visits, I’d stayed close in case the kids got a little unruly. Now, Adam was so used to them and they behaved so well that I could—although I didn’t—leave them all to their own devices.

           Adam took the spot at the end of the row while Nick and Matt sat side-by-side. “These are my friends Nick and Matt Jackson.” The brothers each waved when Adam said their name. “They came all the way from California just to come visit you today.”

           I grinned as the kids oohed and ahhed. They sat up a little straighter.

           “Adam’s told us that you guys are one of the best kindergarten classes he’s ever seen,” Nick said brightly.

           “Um, Nick,” Matt replied dramatically. “I do believe that the Hangman said they were the best class.”

           “I did!” Adam exclaimed. “And I told them that you guys are the best listeners when it comes to stories.”

           “So,” Nick said, reaching behind his back and pulling out a soft cover copy of The Young Bucks Stand Tall. The kids gasped, well entertained by his very obvious “magic” trick. “We just had to come and see for ourselves. And we just so happened to have brought a book with us.”

           “We know that one!” Claudia said, pointing at the book in Nick’s hand. “Adam brought it the first time he came to see us!”

           “Did he?” Matt said, looking at Adam and raising his brow. The kids giggled.

           Adam shrugged and smiled. “After Matt and Nick read their book, we’re going to stay and help with math time, okay?”

           There was a round of applause at that. He looked up, his eyes finding me at the back of the room. His blue eyes were bright as he smiled sweetly. Then he turned his attention back to the students and put his finger to his lips. Like magic, they quieted down.

           Matt looked surprised. “Can you come do that with our kids?”

           Nick laughed and turned a little to the side, so he could hold the book where the kids could see it and so Matt could read his parts. Adam pointed to the book and every single one of my kindergarteners turned their attention.

           “Young Bucks Stand Tall,” Nick said, showing them the cover. He turned to the first page, holding the book open with both hands. “Matt with the reverse… BAM!”

           “Nick high flies off the top rope… BANG!” Matt continued.

           The kids bounced their attention back and forth, and I could see the wheels turning as they realized that the brothers had the same names as the brothers in the book.

           “The crowd roars,” the brothers said together. “SUPERKICK!”

***

           Adam and the Bucks had brought several giant rolls of white paper with them. One by one, they had the students lie down on a piece of paper and my assistant and I traced out their shape. Then, they put out paper that was cut out in 3-inch strips and had the students figure out how many blocks tall they were. I watched as they walked around, getting down in the floor with the kids and acting remarkably surprised when they found out that every student could count.

           When every one of the kids had counted out how tall they were, Matt and Nick brought out crayons and markers. “Do you guys remember how Matt and Nick felt when Jimmy made fun of them?” Matt asked, crouching in front of the kids. “Do you remember how they made themselves feel brave to stand up to a bully?”

           The kids nodded. Nick was stretched out in the center of a group of students. “We want you guys to show us what makes you feel brave on your drawings on the paper.”

           I sat in one of the chairs nearby. I clapped my hands twice and twenty-seven heads turned toward me. Matt mumbled, “These people are kid whisperers. How do you do that?”

           “I wonder what makes Matt, Nick, and Adam feel brave,” I said, looking at the three of them. “Can you share with us?”

           Nick sat up on his knees and grinned, tipping the brim of his hat up. “My hat makes me feel brave.”

           “My headband,” Matt said, nodding.

           Every eye turned to Adam, who had gone a little red in the cheeks. He looked across the room at me before answering. “This,” he said, holding up his left hand. He pointed to his wedding band. “Because it means Ms. Emily is with me, and Ms. Emily makes me feel brave.”

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it​ @lakamaa12​ @lilred91​ @imagineall-the-fandoms​ @not-that-kinda-gurl08​

[eveningsinlondontearsmeapart]

Roommates

Type: One-Shot | Imagine about Shawn Mendes Rating: Rated R for Sexual Content Word Count: 3,281 Enjoy!

“911 What's your emergency?” the operator said.

“Hello?” the operator said.

“I need help” I whispered.

“Where are you located?” she asked.

“I don't know but send help” I said as I dropped the phone.

My head was pounding as I saw my blood run onto the ground. My surroundings started to get dark as I felt my eyes close. I tried to keep them open as long as I could. My breathing was shallow, and it started to get harder to breathe. I was calm and not panicking because I knew this was the end. I could hear the paramedics at the door trying to get in, I saw his body on the floor. He was slumped over in a pool of his blood, I tried to yell but my voice was gone. I closed my eyes as I saw shoes rushing in. My heart stopped and I could see my body resting on the ground. People all around me trying to get me to breathe, to have a pulse again. Could this be my ending, my tragic ending or was it my beautiful beginning?

1 year earlier.

I sat down in the chair as I was trying to figure everything out. I had already had my living situation under control, now I just needed to figure out my classes. The interview with my advisor went longer than I expected. I finished signing up for everything and rushed out of the building. I got to my car and got it in it, heading downtown to my job. I knew I was late but hopefully, they wouldn't mind. I parked around back and went inside, luckily my best friend punched my time card when I was supposed to clock in.

“You are already clocked in, get your apron and go” Becky said as he took my jacket and purse.

“Thank you so much. You are such a lifesaver” I said as I grabbed my apron and went to work.

I worked my shift and I even pulled a few extra hours. By the time I got to the apartment I was beyond tired, I fell asleep on the couch. It was a one-room apartment with a big price tag, I wondered who my roommate was. I answered the listing but never meet the roommate yet, I'm sure whoever it is would turn out ok. Worst came to show that we just didn't get along but who knew. In the morning I was not only awakened by the sun but whoever was in the kitchen. I sat up on the couch and ran my hand through my hair. I made my way into the kitchen, leaning against the door frame as I watched him cook. I knew it could only be one person but I didn't know who he was. He was making breakfast in just a pair of shorts, the sun peeking through the window. I walked into the kitchen and started to make coffee without saying anything.

“Morning” he said.

“Morning” I said as I looked at him.

“How did you sleep?” he questioned.

“Fine, you?” I asked.

“Fine” he went back to cooking breakfast.

I leaned against the counter as I waited for my coffee to make. I bite my lip thinking I just blew whatever we were going to be. I poured my cup of coffee and sit my coffee on the table, making my way back to the living room. I grabbed my laptop from my bag and made my way back to the kitchen. I sat down in the chair and turned my laptop on, by this time he was sitting down at the table eating.

“I didn't seem to catch your name” I broke the silence.

“I'm Shawn” he said.

“Its nice to meet you” I responded.

“Your name is?” he asked.

“I'm Y/N” I said.

“Why did you move to New York for?” he took a bite of his toast.

“Because I wanted to be a writer, I know crazy right” I said.

“No its not crazy, its a wild dream and I hope you make it” he said.

“Thank you” I said as I turned my focus onto my computer.

“So there is only one room, so did you want the room are you ok on the couch?” he asked.

“I'm fine on the couch” I nodded.

“You're sure?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yea, it's your apartment so you should get the room” I took a sip from my coffee.  

He shrugged slightly as he got up from the table. He put his plate in the sink and made his way to the bedroom. I sat at the table and sipped on my coffee, looking out the window. My alarm on my phone went off reminding me that I had a class to get too. I shut my laptop down and put it in my bag, making my way out of the door. Thankfully the campus wasn't too far from the apartment so I could walk. I finally made it to my class found my seat and just took a deep breath. Shawn walked in right after me and sat right next to me.

“I guess we are taking the same class” he said.

“I guess so, you getting a business degree?” I asked.

“Yeah I am” he nodded.

“I just need the basics” I said as I pulled out my notebook.

“Notebook, old school” he smirked slightly.

“I learn better if I actually write things down” I said.

“That's cute” he smiled.

I rolled my eyes playfully as the class started. I caught myself a few times watching him and would have to refocus my attention. I kept trying to stay focus and actually learn something, I don't know why Shawn was such a distraction. The class ended and I put my stuff back in my bag.

“You haven't eaten anything yet, you should get something to eat” he said.

“Ill figure something out” I said.

“Lets go to lunch, I know this cute little cafe down the street” he got up from his seat.

“Sure” I looked at him.

Was I foolish to trust him so soon? To lead me down to a cafe that I've never been too. I pushed those thoughts out of my mind and followed him down to the cafe. I ordered a small sandwich and another cup of coffee. I got my food and found a table for us to sit down at. I sat down and waited for him to join me before I started to eat. We started to talk to get to know each other. I guess it would be for the best since we were actually living together.

“Big city for such a small town girl” he said.

“Yeah, I wanted a change” I looked at him.

“Sure love coffee” he nodded towards my cup.

“Its a must to survive” I smiled slightly.

“Never liked it” he admitted.

“What? How do you function?” I questioned this madness.

“Its just something you do, coffee isn't always the answer” he shrugged.

“If I don't have it I'm like a zombie” I said.

“you didn't look like one this morning, leaning against the door frame” he looked at me.

“You saw me?” I blushed slightly.

“Yeah I saw you” he said.

“I'm sorry” I said, I really didn't know what to say.

“Don't be sorry, I would do the same if the roles were reversed” he admitted.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yea since we never met before, I would be curious about what you would look like to” he said.

“Fair enough” I nodded.

“What other classes do you have?” he asked.

“Creative writing, writing, math and bio” I said.

“Nice list of classes, I have math and bio too. I wonder if we have the same schedule” he said.

I pulled out my phone and showed him my schedule and indeed we had the same classes. All besides my writing classes but it was nice to actually have someone I knew in my classes. Since this was such a big city and campus, I didn't know anyone but him. I left the cafe after lunch and went to my other classes of the day. At the end of the day luckily I didn't have to work. I made my way back to the apartment and started on my homework. Shawn walked in and was followed but a few people.

“Hey Y/N this is Drake, Cash, Destiny, and Brittney” Shawn said.

“Nice to meet you” I looked up from my book.

“We are going to be in my room, we'll try to keep it down” Shawn said.

“Yeah right” Cash said as he rolled his eyes.

“Its fine” I turned my attention back onto my book.

“Are you really going to be studying all night, come on loosen up and have some fun” Britney said.

“I guess I could” I put my book down.

By midnight the music was blaring and the alcohol had set in. We were all pretty hammered and everything became funny. It was the most fun I've had in days, no stress and no worries. It was exactly what I needed, to free my mind then maybe I could actually get something written.  

“Lets play spin the bottle, or seven minutes in heaven” Destiny said.

“Sounds fun” I said.

She got the bottle out and placed it on the floor. We all gathered around the bottle and Destiny started the game. It landed on Cash so they started to make out. She pulled away and handed me the bottle, I spun it and it landed on Shawn. I got up from where I was sitting and leaned in. He placed his hand against my cheek and kissed me softly. I kept the kiss between us, resting my hand against his chest. I totally forgot that there were other people in the room as the kiss started to grow more intense.

“Excuse we are still here” Destiny said.

“Sorry” I bite my lip as I sat back down.

“I'm not up for playing anymore” Shawn said.

“Uh huh,” Cash rolled his eyes.

“I need to go back to studying anyway” I got up and went back onto the couch.

I covered up in my blanket and went back to studying. I don't know what they were doing since they moved to the bedroom. I put my headphones in and started playing music, music always helped me study better. I guess I zoned out because I didn't realize that they left. I got up and made my way to the kitchen, getting a glass of water.

“Late night?” Shawn leaned against the door frame.

“Yeah, I guess” I said as I leaned against the counter.

“So did you enjoy tonight?” he asked as he walked towards me.

“It was interesting” I said.

“Well my friends are interesting” he smirked as he reached to grab a cup. He was right in front of me, I could smell him as he grabbed the glass.

“Did you have fun?” I asked as he took a step back.

“Yea I did” he smiled as he looked at me.

“That's good, I should get back to studying” I said.

“Are we going to talk about the kiss?” he questioned.

“No” I said as I moved past him going back to the living room.

I sat back on the couch and went back to studying. I could feel that he was watching me but I tried to push it out of my mind. I looked towards the kitchen and didn't see anything, I shook my head as I couldn't believe I thought he was watching me. I placed my book down and laid back on the couch, falling asleep pretty quickly. Over the next few weeks we didn't talk about the kiss. Even though I wanted it to mean something more but I didn't want things to move so quickly. I just moved in and on the same night make out with my roommate. I got back from my class and sat on the couch, I just wanted this day to end. I was late to work so I got fired then I was late to class and got embarrassed in front of the class. It was a day from hell. I laid back against the couch and closed my eyes, trying to erase this day fro my mind.

“Bad day?” he asked as he walked in.

“The worst” I said as I opened my eyes.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“No, ill be alright. Might be late on the rent” I sat up.

“That's fine, I have it covered” he sat next to me.

“Thank you” I said.

“I really didn't need the help, just wanted a roommate” he placed his hand on my leg.

“Oh, well, thank you for choosing me” I looked at him.

“I didn't think we would actually see each other. Having the same classes and living together” he said.

“Yea I know, its crazy how things work out” I said.

He placed his hand against my chin, turning my face towards his. He brushed his thumb against my cheek as our eyes connected. He leaned in placing his lips against mine, kissing me softly. I slowly started to kiss him back resting my hand against his chest. He placed his hands against my hips, pulling me closer to him. I kept the kiss between us as I sat on his lap. I pulled on his shirt as the kiss started to turn more intense. He moved his hips towards mine, allowing me to feel his boner through his pants. He placed his lips against my neck, slowly laying me back against the couch. Moving over top of me, sucking against my neck. His hands traveling up my sides, pulling up my shirt. I leaned up raising my arms up as he removed my shirt. He reached behind my back and unsnapped my bra. Throwing it down on the floor, moving his lips against my collar bone. I laid my head back and started to moan, he slowly moved down my body. Kissing my belly edging closer to the top of my pants. He looked up at me and smirked, gripping my pants with his hands. I lifted my hips up as he slipped them off. He kissed up my legs, softly kissing my inner thighs. Moving closer to my panties, gently taking his teeth and pulling them off. He moved between my legs kissing me softly, tracing his finger along my thigh. I leaned into the kiss as I started to remove his shirt. He pulled it off and threw it onto the floor as he placed his lips back against mine. He got up from the couch and removed his pants and boxers. Grabbing a condom from his pocket before moving back over top of me. I looked up at him watching him as he slipped the condom over himself. He lined himself up with my entrance and pushed slowly into me. I took a deep breath in as I felt him enter me. He reached up grabbing my hand, linking our fingers as he started to thrust into me. I started moving my hips towards his, letting out a few moans. He moved his body closer to mine. Sucking against my neck as he continued to thrust. I arched my back as I could feel myself edging closer to an orgasm. He started to moan in my ear, gripping my ass in his hand. I climaxed against him moaning his name. As he felt me tighten around him he thrust a few more times before climaxing. He slipped himself out of me and threw the condom away in the trash can. He reached for my hand, I grabbed his hand as I got off the couch. He pulled me into his room and closed the door. We got into bed and just snuggled with each other. I rested my head against his chest and traced patterns on his stomach. I started to drift off to sleep when someone started knocking on the door.

“Ill get it” he said.

“Sure” I laid back against the pillows.

He went to see who it was and it was Destiny. I could hear them arguing so I got up and put one of his shirts on. I slipped on a pair of his boxers as well. I peeked out the bedroom door trying to see what was going on. She pushed him and continued to yell. He was yelling just as much as she was but I couldn't figure out what it was about.

“You sleeping with her?” Destiny crossed her arms.

“I doesn't have anything to do with you Destiny!” He said.

“Really? You really do that?” she said.

“I'm single remember” he said as he sat on the couch.

“I can't believe you would do this!” She yelled and walked out of the apartment.

“Cant believe what?” I asked as I stood in the door frame.

“Its complicated” he said as he held his head down.

“Did you just cheat? Or something?” I asked.

“Yea bitch!” Destiny said as she walked back in.

“Excuse me” I said as I turned to face her.

“You heard me! You should get your shit and leave” she said.

“Who's going to make me?” I asked.

“I will” she got into my face.

“HEY!” Shawn said as he got between us.

“Shawn is mine” Destiny said.

“Y/N just got into my room please” he said as he grabbed my arms.

“Control your pest” I rolled my eyes and walked into the bedroom.

Once again they started to yell at each other. I sat in the bedroom for as long as I could take her mouth. I went back out to the living room and saw that she had thrown my stuff all over the place. I pushed her from Shawn and we got into a fight. That was the last thing I remembered before waking up in his bed. I sat up and had a rushing headache, I placed my hands against my head. Shawn walked in with an ice pack and sat next to me. I couldn't remember what happened, nor did I know what happens to Destiny. I placed the ice against my head and just looked at him.

“I'm sorry” he said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You pushed her then she pushed you. You lost your balance and fell. I told her to leave” he said.

“Are you two together?” I asked.

“No we aren't” he looked me in the eyes as he said those words.

“Ok” I nodded and laid back.

Something in me just told me that she would be a problem. I needed to figure something out if I wanted to be with Shawn. I wanted to be with Shawn we just had the connection but Destiny needed to be out of the picture.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 48

Warnings: angst

Tags: @alievans007​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

An incessant knock at the door rouses her from her sleep, and she groans in protests as she rolls over onto her back and stares up at the cove ceiling. She's unsure of how much time has passed since Tyler left to attend to the drama with McMann, but the sun has changed positions and is now at full force as it streams through the window and onto the bed.  She presses the heels of her palms on her eyes in an attempt to both clear the sleep out of them and rid her brain of some of the lingering fogginess. Hoping that if she stays as motionless and as silent as possible, whoever is trying to contact her will just go away.  She's exhausted;  a fatigue that she's come to recognize as a late first trimester side effect. With each of her pregnancies it had set in at the same; somewhere between the middle and the end of the second month.  She does the math in her head; figuring out the exact dates that conception was the most possible. He'd just gotten back from El Salvador; a simple (for once) in and out assassination of a known human trafficker.  Sarge had picked the kids for a rare weekend at his and grandma's house, and he'd given her a wink as he'd teased her about being able to spend 'noisy adult time' with her frequently absent husband.   Which they'd managed plenty of; wild and uninhibited, intense and passionate, often rough. And it was the first time in a long  time she had actually been make the noises that she'd gotten so used to hiding behind her hand or a pillow.    

Condoms had become their go to for protection after Declan had been conceived when she was on the pill. And seeing as neither of them at the time had been one hundred sold on whether to have more children, that ruled out getting her tubes or a vasectomy for him, so something had to be used.  So she thought they'd been careful.

Apparently not careful enough.

She places both hands on her stomach; still flat for now (aside from the baby weight she hasn't managed to lose since having Declan), but if her intuition, calculations, and pregnancy history were correct, she'd be just beginning to show around the beginning of the fifth month.  It wouldn't be much; just a little bump that would be visible underneath tight fitting clothes.  But it would seem much more real than it did right now; when all she had to show for growing a life inside of her was fatigue and horrible all day sickness.  It was something she always marvelled at; the changes in her body as the weeks and months progressed, the way her hips and her breasts would fill out, the way her hair would become thicker and more vibrant, the way her skin seemed to glow. And it was always magical, no matter how many times she carried a life inside of her, to feel that little person moving around. The kicking and the squirming, the way -in the last trimester- you could sometimes see the entire outline of a hand or a foot when room was starting to run out and they had no more vacant space to move into.  And above everything, she couldn't get enough of the way her husband 'softened' over the last three months; the way that big strong man would lie in bed at night with those calloused and battered hands resting on her belly, the most gentle smile curving his lips and the utmost excitement in his eyes every time the baby kicked or seemed to respond to his voice.

And she smiles as she thinks of those times past and those moments still to come.  When they'd be in the comfort and security of their own home, back under the same roof as their children, finally able to relax and enjoy the new life that they'd be bringing into this world. Things would be different this time; he'd be around for the majority of the pregnancy, able to attend more appointments and ultrasounds, no going out of the country for extended periods of time, no worry every time the phone rang that he'd run off and put himself in danger.  

The knocking has ceased, and she once again closes her eyes, hands still on her stomach, attempting to fall back asleep once more. Sleep gave her the opportunity not to worry about him. The only time where she isn't stressed out and her mind is imagining all the worst case scenarios.  And she feels as if she's just on the brink of sleep when she hears the faint scratching of a key card being slid through the security slot, followed by the click as the system unlocks the door. She quickly jumps off the bed, feeling temporarily dizzy as she scurries through the door; she'd put the chain lock and the deadbolt in place, exactly as he'd instructed her to do if he ever left her alone.

“Wait...wait...” she implores, and hurriedly draws back the chain and snaps open the bolt. “...usually you call when you're on your back so I know to unlock everything, why...”

She stops mid sentence when she comes face to face with Nik.  The other woman's lips set in a grim line, dark eyes troubled, And immediately thinks the worst. All those times she's spent imaging that knock on the door; how Nik would be standing there with that exact same expression, preparing to give her devastating news.

“What happened?” she can't help the panic that settles into her voice. “Please tell me he's okay. Please tell me he's not...”

“Tyler's fine,” Nik assures her, yet her expression doesn't change. “I'm here to talk to you.”

“About?”

“About Tyler.”

Esme frowns. “Look, if you're here to tell me you've been fucking him and he's leaving me for you, I'll kill both of you. Just saying.”

“He would never do anything like that to you and you know. Can I come in? This is a conversation we need to have behind closed doors. This isn't something you want your neighbours hearing.”

She senses the dire importance in the other woman's voice, and then steps back and holds the door open, motioning for her to step into the room.  Closing the door, she resets the chain and the deadbolt. Just in case.

“I heard the good news,” Nik says, as she surveys the room, hands on her slender hips, expression still cold and unnerving. “About the baby.”

“You talked to Tyler?”

“A little while ago.  I ran into him. Where they're holding Michael McMann.”

“Yeah, he left a while ago.  I guess Mark and his guys were having some issues with McMann and Tyler's the one that puts the  most fear into him. Why were you there? Just checking up on things?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Nik, what's going on? You seem...I don't know...pissed.”

“I'm just a little upset,” she admits. “About this whole situation. With McMann.”

“I know it's taking a long time. Especially to find out where the kids are. But we've been doing everything we can. We've been  running intel around the clock and Yaz has tech in every possible place he can think of. And Tyler can't do much until he actually knows where the kids are, so...”

“Did you know?” Nik interrupts.

“Know what?”

“About McMann. About where he is.”

“I know that Mark and his guys are holding him somewhere until the IRA makes up their mind. I know that they've been trying to get information out of him; about where his kids are.”

Nik's eyes narrow. “That's all you know?”

“”What more is there to know? That's all I've been told.”

“And who told you? About what was happening with McMann?”

“Tyler did. Why? Shouldn't have he? Was he supposed to keep a secret?  Look, if you're pissed at him for telling me, he's been having a hard time...mentally...since McMann told him what he would have done to me had his people caught me. He's been having real low moments and he's just not himself, Nik. He's obsessing over things and he misses the kids and he hasn't been taking his meds and....”

“Esme....” she begins, choosing her words carefully. “...what am I about to tell you? I'm not doing this to upset you. Or hurt you.  And the last thing I want to do is cause problems for you or that baby. Because you're my friend and I love you and...”

“I love you, too. I know we have our problems, but...”

“....I need to stay as calm as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“You can't expect me to be calm when you have that tone in your voice or that look in your eyes. What's going on? He is cheating on me, isn't he. That fucking bastard.”

“No. It's not that. Believe me when I say that Tyler would never, ever do that to you. And he's had the opportunities.”

“Thanks to you,” her tone is accusatory.

“And I'm sorry for that. I really am.  For ever crossing those boundaries. But this something you need to hear. Something that is far worse than the thought of him cheating on you, believe me.”

“Okay...” she crosses her arms over her chest. “....what the hell has he done?”

“You honestly do not know anything else about McMann and what's been happening to him?”

She shakes her head. “Just what I told you. I don't have a reason to know.”

“Actually, you do.  Tyler hasn't been telling you the truth. About the McMann thing. About what really happened. About where he's being kept. And what's going on while he's being kept there.”

“Nik, what the hell are you talking about? What would Tyler have to lie about? So what if the Marines are holding this guy and maybe roughing him up now and then. He's a sick and twisted fuck nut that deserves a good beat down. You  know what he said about me? What he would have done to me? How he would have made Tyler watch? That is sick shit. And he deserves to have his ass handed to him.”

“This goes way beyond someone having their 'ass handed to them'.  I want you to look at something...” Nik pulls her phone out of the front pocket of her pants, tapping on the icon for her photo gallery and then scrolling through pictures before holding the phone out to Esme. “...just keep flipping through them.”

Sighing, Esme holds the phone in the palm of her hand; a frown spreading across her face at the first image. Of a man restrained in a folding metal chair; a heavy chain around his torso keeping him in place, hands restrained behind his back, ankles bound, a hood over his head.

“That's Michael McMann,” Nik explains. “He's being held in a storage locker on the outskirts of town. In an industrial area. Do you know how he got there?”

“I know Tyler went to meet him and there was a plan arranged for Mark and his buddies to help grab him and that they were going to take him somewhere to hold him. I had no idea where.”

“He was drugged. Do you know who drugged him?

“How would I know? I wasn't even there. I just told you that I...”

“Tyler did. Tyler drugged him. And he could have killed him with how much he gave him.”

Her frown grows. “Where would Tyler get drugs from? He doesn't do drugs. He won't even take medication that's prescribed to him.”

“Billy Flynn gave them to him. That's where he met McMann. At Flynn's bar. Did you know that?”

She shakes her head.

“See this?”  Nik uses her index finger to switch pictures. “That's Michael Flynn's throat. See how bruised it is? Someone just about snapped his windpipe.  See the fingerprints on the side of his neck? That's when someone was choking him to restrain him.  And this...” she brings up the next picture. “...is the inside of McMann's mouth. Someone pulled three of his molars out. With pliers.”

“Why are you showing me these?”  Esme pushes the phone back into her friend's hands. “What does this have to with me?”

“It was Tyler. Tyler did these things.”

“What?” she can't help but laugh at the absurdness of it.  “You're kidding, right? Tyler? My Tyler? He did all that?”

Nik nods.

“You're telling that my husband drugged someone, kidnapped them, and is holding them hostage...in order to torture them...in a storage locker?”  

“That's exactly what I'm telling you.”

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? This has to be some kind of joke. Did Mark put you up to this? Because this is something Mark would do. This is the kind of sick shit he'd get off on. And I wouldn't put it past him to blame it on Tyler.  There is no way my husband would do this. This is not who he is. He doesn't torture and maim people. He kills them;when he has to.  But he doesn't do this,” she gestures towards the phone. “You know him, Nik. You've known him for even longer than I have. And you know that is not Tyler.”

“Esme, I would not come here and burden you with this. Especially now. Especially when there's a baby inside of you and I know you've had problems in the past with the others. But he won't listen to anyone. We've tried to talk him out of this. Mark, Yaz, myself. We've all tried.  And he won't listen. He won't budge. Regardless of what McMann did, this...” Nik holds aloft her phone. “....this is not right. This should not be happening.”

“There's no way he would do all that,” Esme argues.  “Not Tyler. He kills because he has to. Because it's either him or them. He doesn't do shit like this. That's not who he is and you know that.”

“You just said he's been having some issues. Mental ones.”

“Yeah, with his PTSD and not taking his meds. But he doesn't go Reservoir Dogs on someone because he's off his meds. He gets moody and depressed but he's more liable to kill himself than someone else. This he would not do. I know him, Nik. I know what he's like. Whether it's when he's at the highest of his highs or the lowest of his lows. And I know he would not do this.  So I don't know who told you all of this; that he's doing this. But it's not him.”

“He told me, Esme. Tyler told me. After I heard it from Mark. It's why I came here.  To confront Tyler. To try and talk some sense into him. He's not in his right mind. If he was, there's no way he would do this.  You're my last resort. I wouldn't have to come to you and put this on you if I had another way of handling this.”

She doesn't know how she feels.  Shocked? Numb? Disgusted even? None of it makes sense. None of it seems real. Even with the proof right there in those photographs.  And she feels nauseous; the distinct burn of bile as it rises in her throat.  “He would not do this,” she says, even though her gut knows it's true. That Nik would not do this to her; purposely make up something so outrageous just to hurt her.  “Tyler would not do this.”

“He would. And he is. Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

“I don't know....” she admits, and lays a hand on her stomach.  “....I don't know what I need to do.”

“Sit down,” Nik takes her by the arm and guides her towards the bed, still holding onto her as she lowers herself down onto the edge. “I'll get you some water. Just try and stay calm, okay?”

Esme nods, then grabs the phone out of Nik's hand before she can depart. Tears clouding her vision as she returns to the photo gallery and sends each of those disturbing, nauseating photos to her own cell phone.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Nik asks, as she returns with a glass of water from the bathroom. “Maybe some fresh air will do you some good. I know it's hard being cooped up like this and you've been under a lot of stress. It will be good for you to get out. Get some exercise. Some sunshine,” she attempts a reassuring smile, and rubs her friend's arm comfortingly. “I know how hard this is. To hear this. To see those pictures.”

“I can't believe he would do this,” Esme's hands shake as she lifts the water to her lips, and Nik puts a supportive hand under the bottom of the glass.  “This is not Tyler. He doesn't do things like this, Nik.”

“Not normally, no. But he has been under a lot of stress. A lot of tension. Worry. And now you're having a baby and he has that on his plate too....”

“Don't bring the baby into this. If anything, that's something he should be happy about.”

“He's been off his meds?”

She nods. “I don't know how long for. I've been so caught up with worrying about the kids and worrying about him not getting killed that I haven't been paying attention.”

“It's not your fault,” Nik rubs her back now. “You're his wife, not his babysitter.”

“I always know if he's going through a crisis. Always. And I'm always there for him. To help him through it. And maybe if I noticed sooner...”

“Esme, don't do this to yourself. None of this is your fault.  You can help him, but you can't fix him. He has to want to fix himself.”

“I told him not to take this job. I begged him not to take it. He'd just gotten back from Guatemala and he promised me...he promised the kids...that he would stay home. That he wouldn't take anything else for at least two weeks. And then McMann showed up in Telluride and everything went to shit.”

“That was McMann's plan. When he couldn't kill Tyler in Guatemala, he changed his entire plan. He concocted this elaborate story about his wife and his kids because he knew that Tyler would cave in at the mention of kids. He wanted to bring him here to start shit with the IRA. So the IRA would kill him and McMann's hands would be clean. No connection to Tyler's death. But when he brought you in and you started digging around....”

“So it's my fault?” the tears fall in earnest now. “He's doing this because of me? Because I got involved in this?”

“No. Esme, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that McMann had to make things even more complicated and twisted to get his hands on Tyler. Including targeting you and the kids. And that's why Tyler is doing this. Or at least that's his rationale. He feels he needs revenge.”

“For what? I'm fine. The kids are fine. What...?”

“The threat was even worse in his mind because he's not in a good place. You know what he gets like that, when he's off his meds.”

She nods. “He obsesses over things. He thinks things are a hundred times worse than what they are.”

“It's Tyler doing these things, but it's not Tyler at the same time. He's not the Tyler you know.  He may think he is, but he isn't.”

“What am I supposed to do? If he's that unhinged, I won't be able to get through to him.  No one will be able to get through to him.”

“Tough love?” she suggests.  “What is he most afraid of? Not just now. But always.”

“I can't do that him, Nik. I can't hurt him like that. If things are that bad now, what will he get like if I do that to him? I just can't. What he's doing is wrong, I'm not denying that. But I can't break his heart.”

“Esme, this is what he needs. To snap him out of it. If he has something he's afraid to lose, that will be what forces him to save himself. You know I'm right. Remember when you kicked him out? Six months it took. But he smartened up, didn't he? Because he was afraid you'd never take him back and he'd never see his kids.”

“I can't,” she insists. “I can't hurt him like that. Of all the things that would break him...”

“It will force him to get his shit together. It will make him realize that he's out of control and he's need to get his head on straight. I know you don't want to do it. You don't want to use yourself and your kids...his kids...as weapons, but you need to. If you want to save Tyler, you have to do it.  Or he'll become someone you don't even recognize. And you won't have a choice to walk  away for good. I know you don't want that.”

“No, I don't...” she uses the back of her hand to brush tears off her cheeks.  “...I don't want to walk away. I love him. And I know he loves me. I know he loves his kids. And I'm having a baby and I can't do it alone. I can't do it without him.”

“You'll have to if this goes on. Because you're going to loose him. To whatever the hell is going on inside his head. If you want to help save him, you have to do this. He needs you to do this.”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agrees. “But it isn't going to well. It's going to go to shit. And then what? When he loses his mind? I'm not afraid of him. I know he won't hurt me. That's one thing I do know for sure. But he's going to flip out, Nik. And this place will be a battle zone.”

“If that happens,  you call me and I'll come and get you. You can come stay with me in my room until he calms down., okay?”

Esme nods.

“It's going to be alright,” Nik assures her, as she wraps an around her friend's shoulder, pulling her tight into her side, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Everything is going to be alright.”

****

She's sitting at the end of the bed when he returns, nervously bouncing her legs up and down and chewing on her bottom lip; cell phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“What's going on?” Tyler asks, as she slips his feet out of flip flops, leaving them by the door. “I thought you were going out with Tanis?”

“I changed my mind,”  her voice is strained, the emotion evident. And she doesn't look at him, even when he walks further into the room and lays his hand on her back and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Where were you?” she asks.

“I told you. I went to help out with McMann.”

“What kind of help?”

“What does it matter?”

“I'm just curious, I guess.  I mean, if three Marines can't handle him, what are you supposed to do about it?”

“Just an extra pair of hands there, I suppose. What's going on? You okay? You seem a little...”

“Upset?” she finishes for him.

He nods.

“I need you to be honest with me, Tyler. I don't want you lying to me. Where were you?”

“I just told you...”

“I know where you were and who you were with. But where were you? As in location? Why is it big secret? Why am I not allowed to know these things? How come every time I ask you, you either totally ignore me or you just change the subject?”

“You don't need to know. Your part in all of this is done now. There's nothing left for you to do. Why would I get you involved in anything else? You need to be taking it easy. For the baby.”

“Don't do that,” she shakes her head, and finally turns her face towards him, her eyes darker than he's ever seen them. “Don't you use this baby as an excuse to keep things from me.”

“What are you talking about? What...?”  he attempts to lay a hand on her shoulder, and she aggressively pushes it away and stands up, facing him.

“I am going to ask you one more time,” she says, voice trembling. “Where were you?”

“I fucking told you. I was helping with McMann. Where the hell does it matter where the actual place is?”

She inhales deeply, pulls her lip between her teeth, and then exhales sharply.  “What the hell is this?”  she brings up the photos on her phone, tapping on the one of McMann restrained to the chair, hood still over his face. “Can you explain this? Tell me what this is, Tyler.”

He sighs heavily, fists tightening by his sides. “Where did you get that?”

“Nik. She sent me a whole bunch. See...” she scrolls through the pictures, and when he attempts to reach for the phone, she yanks it away, holding it behind her back. “...tell me you didn't do this. Tell me you didn't drug someone and kidnap them and tie them up in a storage locker. Tell me you didn't do those things.”

He stares at her; long and hard, blue eyes never leaving dark brown.

“Tell me,” she orders. “Tell me it wasn't you. Tell me that she's wrong. That it was someone else and they're just wanting you to take the blame. Tell me.”

Tyler shakes his head. “I can't.”

“So this was all you? All those pictures? All those things done to him? All those bruises and all the blood and the missing teeth? That was all you? You did all of that?”

He nods.

“Why? Why would you do this? What the hell,Tyler? This is not you! You don't do shit like this! You don't hurt people. You help them!”

“I've hurt plenty of people. I've killed even more. You know that.”

“You kill because you have to! Because you don't have a choice. Because it's you or them . But this! What you're doing now? You have a choice! You're choosing to do this! You're choosing to hurt someone!”

“He fucking deserves it,” his voice is low and steady, giving no evidence to the rage that's building inside of him.

“Why? Who the hell are you to say someone deserves this? Jesus Christ, Tyler! You ripped someone's teeth out of their mouth with goddamn pliers! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. He deserves this. I'm doing this for you.”

“For me?” she laughs incredulously. “For me? Why do you think I would want this? I don't want this! Put a bullet in his head and call it a fucking day! Don't do this! This is sick! This is fucked up and you know it!”

“You know what he was going to do to you? To the kids? Our kids?”

“Don't you dare use them in this. Don't you dare use them to justify this. You think this is what they would want? Their daddy doing these kinds of things to people? You worry about what Millie will say when she grows up. How she'll react when she finds out about your past as mercenary. You worry about that then you go and do this? This is somehow better?”

“She'd understand. That I did it for her.”

“You aren't going to rationalize this. No matter what you say to me. This ends now, Tyler. You hand him over to whoever is going to take him and that's it. This ends. You stop this right now.”

He shakes his head. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing this? What am I doing? Holding you accountable for your bullshit? Like I've been doing for five and a half fucking years! When I have I never not called you out on something? Did you really think I wouldn't call you out on this?”

“You weren't supposed to find out.”

“Oh and lying about it makes it so much better. You know, when Nik showed up here and said we needed to talk, I was almost hoping she was going to tell me you were fucking her. Because that would have been so much easier to deal with than this. And how sad is that? That I'd rather you fuck another woman than do something like this?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me that this stops right now. That you don't go near him ever again. That you let Mark and his guys handle this from now on. This ends here.  Tell me this ends here.”

He shakes his head.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Look at these pictures!” she throws the phone at them. “Look at them, Tyler! Look at them and tell me that this is okay! Fucking look at them!”

“Don't...” he takes a step towards her, a fist clutched at his side. “....don't fucking talk to me like that.”

“What are you going to? Are you going to the same thing to me? Are you going to lose your shit on me too?”

“I'd never do that. I would never, ever hurt you.”

“Really? Are you sure? Because I thought you'd never turn into this. I never thought you'd turn into someone who would do this kind of thing. After all the years you've spent getting people away from sick fucks that do these things, you turn around and you become one of them.”

“I'm nothing like them,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Why are you doing this? Why? Give me one good reason. Look me in the eye and give me one good reason.”

“I told you!” he finally snaps. “He was going to hurt you. He was going to hurt our kids. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Let it happen? Be okay with it?!”

“He can't hurt us because you've got him locked up in that fucking storage place! He can't hurt anyone! So just leave him there to rot if you have to. But don't do this. You don't need to do this!”

“I do. For you. And the kids.”

“No!” she snarls, and jabs him in the chest with her forefinger.  “You don't use us like that! Don't you dare use us to justify this! We don't want you doing this! I want you to stop, Tyler. I want you to just walk away from McMann. From the job. I want you to tell Nik to find someone else to get those kids. Because you are in no way healthy enough to do this job.”

He smirks. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Talking to me like this? Who...?”

“I'm your wife, you fucking asshole!  I'm your wife and I'm worried about you! Because you're becoming someone I don't even recognize! You're slowly becoming a completely different person and I can't watch it happen. I can't just stand back and let you do this to yourself.”

“The person you remember is gone, Esme. You're remembering someone that existed for five days. In Dhaka. That's who you remember.”

“No,” she shakes her head, remaining defiant.  “I remember the person after that. The person who chose to keep going when he could have given up. That's who I remember.”

“The guy you fell in love with? He died that day on the bridge. You know he did. That's who you remember. That guy you were fucking for five days. That's who you remember.”

“No, Tyler. That's not who I remember. I remember the guy who saved a fourteen year old boy even though the job went to shit and there wasn't going to be a payout.  I remember the guy who busted his ass to get Ovi and I across the bridge. That's who I remember!”

“Do you remember the guy that got shot in the throat? That fucking bled out all over you? Do you remember him? Look at it!” he points to the scar on his neck. “Fucking look at it, Esme. You can't, can you. You can't even look at it because it because too real to you. Do you remember that guy?”

“Of course I do.”

“Because that guy died that day. And he took those other guys with him. What you got in the end? That's not the same guy.”

“You're better than that guy.  You became a better man. Do you remember saying that to me? That I made you want to become a better man? Do you remember that?”

He nods.

“You are a better man. And that's the man I want. I don't want the man that does shit like this to people. And you don't want to be that man. I know you don't want to.”

“I'm sorry,” he snarls. “That I can't be that person for you.”

“You are that person, you dick! And I want you to stay that person, Tyler. I need you stay that person. Your kids need you to stay that person.”

“You should have let me die. On that bridge. You should have just let me die.”

She fights back the tears despite the devastation his words inflict upon her heart. Her entire body. “How can you even say that? Is that really what you wanted? You wanted me to let you die?”

“It would have been better if you'd just let me go.”

“Better for who? You? You were the one that wanted to keep seeing me after Dhaka. You brought it up first. We made plans. Together. To travel and enjoy getting to know each other and see where things took us. A guy who wants to die does not do that. And you can't convince me otherwise.”

“It would have been so much easier,” he speaks with a quiet resolve, despite the rage that causes his entire body to tremble.

“For you? That's bullshit, Tyler and you know it.”

“You wouldn't have wasted the last five and a half years of you life.”

“I didn't waste anything. I married the love of my life. I had his children. There was nothing wasted. I've spent these last five and a half years loving you with everything I am and everything I have. And I spent them being loved by you. I wasted nothing.”

“None of this would be happening. This bullshit with McMann. People going after my kids. Threatening them. If I hadn't survived...”

“But you did,” she hisses. “You did survive. You didn't die because you're a stubborn fucking asshole who refuses to give up. The same stubborn asshole who coded three times in the OR and still came back. You have me. You have your children. Aren't we enough? Aren't we enough to make you want to live?”

“Of course you are. But....”

“There's no 'buts', Tyler. I know how stressed you are right now. I know you're going through a fucking nightmare mentally. And I know that it frustrates you and it confuses you and I know it scares you. But you're not in this alone. I am right here with you. And I'll fight your fight with you.”

“You shouldn't have to!” he argues. “Don't you fucking get that? You shouldn't have to keep doing this!”

“I don't have to do anything. I want to. Why won't you let me help you? Why won't you swallow your goddamn pride and let me in? Just let me help you. Please.”

“What do you want me to do? Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want you to stop this. This McMann bullshit. Because that's not you. Regardless of what you say, regardless of your stupid ass reasonings. That's not the man I fell in love with. That I married. That I gave children to. It's your brain, Tyler. It's messing with you. So you need to stop right now. And you need to tell Nik that you're done. Someone else can find those kids. You tell her and we leave. We get the first flight out of here and we go and get our kids and Ovi and we go home.”

He shakes his head, voice choked by emotion. “I can't.  I'm sorry.  I can't.”

“You still want to finish the job,” it's a statement, not a question. “You still think you need to stay and get it done.”

He nods.

“Well I guess you've made your choice then. It was always going to be this way, wasn't it, Tyler. You were always going to chose the job over me, weren't you.”

“That is not what I'm doing. I promised you, at the end of it, I was done.”

“I am sick to death of your promises. Of you breaking them all the time. I'm tired.  I'm tired and I've got another human being inside of me that I'm trying to keep alive. I'm tired and I'm done. You made your choice,” she steps past him, aggressively shoving her shoulder into him.

“What are you doing?” he watches as she grabs one of her suitcases out of the unlocked second closet in the hall. “Esme...what the fuck? Stop your fucking games, okay? Just stop this shit and just sit down and we will talk about this and...”

“We are way past sitting down and talking about anything,” she tosses the suitcase onto the bed, angrily yanking on the zipper to open it, then stomps to the dresses and begins tearing open drawers; gathering up various items of clothing and messily tossing them into the case.

“Just stop!” he orders. “What are you doing?!”

“I'm leaving. I'm going back to Colorado. I'll stay with my mom until Ovi brings the kids back.”

“You don't need to do that. Stop...” he stands behind and reaches around her slight frame to grab both of her wrists in one of his hands. “You don't need to leave. I don't want you to leave.”

“If I stay, I'm only going to be in your way. Just like I was in Dhaka.”

“That's not true. You were never in my way in Dhaka.”

“It wouldn't have been so hard if I'd died in that forest too. If Saju had have just done me in when he had the chance. Things would have been a lot easier on you and a lot easier on Ovi.”

“That's bullshit and you know it.”

“Why am I even here still? My usefulness ran it's coarse, right? You don't need me anymore.”

“Of course I need you. You're my wife.”

“You chose, Tyler,” she manages to yank her hands out of his grip. “You made your choice. Now you can live with it.”

“Don't do this. Please. I never chose the job over you.”

“You just did!” she bellows, and pushes him away with her elbow, tears flowing freely down her face. “You just did!”

“I promised you I'd be done after I was finished her. That was what our deal.”

“Well fuck the deal!” she shoves him away once more when he attempts to get closer. “And fuck you too, Tyler!”

“Esme...stop...don't do this. Don't leave.  I don't want you to leave.”

“You need to get your shit together,” she orders. “You need to figure out what the hell you want.”

“You,” there's no hesitation.  “I want you. I want my kids.”

“Then come with me. Tell Nik that you're done. Tell her you're finished and come home with me.”

“You know I can't. You know I can't leave those kids.”

“But you can you leave yours right? That's a never a problem to you.  It's never a problem when you walk out the door while they're sleeping and leave me to clean up your mess. You can leave your own kids...that you helped make...but not complete strangers. Makes total sense.”

“Just give me to the end of the week. Like we agreed on. That's all I'm asking for here. Just five more days.”

“And then five days become ten and ten become twenty and on and on and on.”

“Not this time,” Tyler insists. “This time I'm done. I meant what I said.”

“I'm not staying here. I refuse to stay here. I'm not hanging around to get that phone call or that knock on the door letting me know you're dead. I'm going home. To Colorado. To my mom's. And you get a hold of Ovi and you get him and my kids back. Do you understand me?”

“Esme...” he lays his hands on her shoulders. “...just stop.”

“You track down Ovi and my kids and you get their asses back to Colorado. Or I will never, ever forgive you. I will spend the rest of my life hating you if you don't  get my kids back where they belong. And stop!” she uses her elbows to knock her hands off her shoulders. “Stop touching me! I don't want you touching me right now. Just get my kids back, Tyler.”

“They're my kids too,” he angrily reminds her.

“Yeah, well try being a father once in a while. Not just when it's convenient for you and fits your schedule.”

“That's fucking low and you know it, Esme. That's really fucking low. I do what I do for those kids. For you!”

“You do what you do because you like it. You just won't admit. Because it makes you sick to admit it so you use me and the kids as an excuse. Because it makes you feel better. Quit your shit, Tyler. Just admit. For once, just admit you do this job because you enjoy it.”

“I don't enjoy it. I do it because I'm good at it. No. I'm fucking great at it. And the money...”

“Fuck the money. There is not enough money in this world to replace you! I don't care about the money. I would leave  with you right now and go back to Australia and live in that goddamn shack with you and four kids and fucking chicken in the bathroom if that's what you wanted. If that is what would make you happy. If that's what would you keep you home and safe!”

“Esme....please...just stay here with me...we can sit down and talk about this. Like rational adults.”

“Tyler, I am way past feeling rational. I'm not staying here with you.  I love you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes.  But I can't be around you right now. I just can't. You need time to think. Without me around.”

“No,” he remains steadfast. “I don't.

She finishes throwing the clothes into the suitcase and zips it closed. “I'll be there. When this is done. I'll be waiting for you to come home. But if in your heart you do want the job over us, don't even bother coming back. Move. Get out of my way.”

“Stop. Right now. Stop whatever fucking game this is and...”

“This isn't a game!” she screams. “I said move!”

He holds his hands up in surrender and steps backwards. “You're leaving now?” he asks incredulously, as she grabs the suitcase and heads for the door.  “Right now? Where the hell are you going?”

“I'll stay with Nik.  Then I'll get a flight back first thing tomorrow.”

He crosses the room in three long strides, slamming a palm against the door to prevent her from opening it. “Stay here. With me. Then tomorrow you book a flight and I will take you to the airport. Just stay here. With me.”

“Why? Because you think fucking me a few times will make everything better? It doesn't solve everything, Tyler. Regardless of what you think.”

“I never said that. I never even thought it. I just want you to stay. I just want to sleep here. With me. In the same bed. So I can wake up beside you. That's all I want.”

“I can't.  You need to respect that. That I need to be away from you right now. This all too much. Finding out what you've been doing. I need time to come to terms with that and I need to take care of myself and this baby and I can't do either of those things if I'm with you. You have to let me go, Tyler.”

“No. I don't, And I won't.”

“If I stay, this won't end well. Because all the worry and the stress is going to get to me and I'm going to lose this baby and you won't ever forgive yourself for that. So please. Just let me go. If you love me, if you love this baby, just let me go.”

“Fine...” he relents, removing his hand from the door and stepping back far enough to allow her to open it.

“I'm sorry,” she says,  and he reaches out to clear the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. “This is not about not loving you. Because I do. I love you so fucking much. And it's because I love you that I'm doing this.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Do you? Because I need you to understand that. I need you to know that I love you and I'm not leaving you. I don't want this...us...to be over. I just need to take care of myself and this baby. I can't do that if I'm here. And you know I can't. You know right, that?”

“Yup.”

“I want you to find those kids. I do. And then I want you to come home. To me. To our kids. Your kids. Promise me, Tyler. If there's ever going to be one promise you make and keep, make it that one.”

“I promise. I'll come home. To you. To the kids.”

“Be careful, okay? And stay safe. Come home in one piece. And breathing.”

“I will,” he assures her.

She manages a small smiles, then reaches up to push his hair off of his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he leans down to kiss her.  Long and languid. Tender.

“I'll see you when I see you,” she says.

He grins. “That's my line.”

“Well, I beat you to it this time.”

He lays a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him, pressing his lips to her brow.  “Stay,” he says. “Just tonight. Tomorrow I'll let you leave. I'll take you to the airport.”

“If I don't leave now, I never will. And that's not good for either of us. But I'll be waiting for you. I promise,” she places her hand on the side of his face, running her thumb over his lips and then the bristles of his beard. “I'll miss you.”

“I'll miss you too. At least call me. Before you leave tomorrow.”

“I will,” she promises, and briefly leans her forehead against his chest before stepping out into the hall and shutting the door behind her.

[limitededitionsanderssidesblog]

Love Like You - Chapter 2/2

Ships: Anxceit, Logicality

Summary: Nearly half a year has passed since Virgil first walked into the Stork House and met mysterious and hardworking caregiver, Dexter Serpente, and the odd pair of eleven-year-old twins, Roman and Remus. Over the past few months, with weekly visits, Virgil finds himself slowly falling for both Dexter and the boys. However, shadows of his past and fear of the future hold him back.

This Chapter is twice as long as the last, so sorry in advance.

Chapter 1 AO3 - Here

- The sun began to set as the day grew sleepy. Cars filled the traffic lanes as working adults returned to their homes after a long day at their jobs. They honked and beeped their horns, impatient to get home; while Virgil honked his horn for another reason.

“The light is green! Get off your phone and drive!” Virgil shouted at the car in front of him that refused to move even though it had changed ten seconds ago.

He never did like sitting in traffic, but today it was even worse since they all had planned to take the kids to the movie theater to watch the latest Pixar movie. They ended up leaving the Stork house a little late since it was hard to corral ten kids into three cars. They almost had to cancel entirely because one of the other volunteer helpers couldn’t make it. Virgil quickly grew nervous about getting there on time, but his rushing around didn’t do much of anything to help the issue. Dexter called his other volunteer but they were occupied as well. 

Virgil nearly had a meltdown then, Dexter was also slightly panicking but he remained calm enough to soothe Virgil. Dexter then asked Patton if his boyfriend would be available to drive them to the theater, and, after a swift call, he was.

Logan came and took four of the older kids in his white Corvette, Patton drove his KIA and took four of the toddlers, while Virgil volunteered to drive the agency’s car to take him, Dexter, and Roman and Remus. A small argument between who should drive stalled them a few minutes longer, but Virgil quickly settled it by snatching the keys and bolting for the car. He felt a little guilty for acting so childish, but he felt that he needed to make it up for ruining the night.

“How much time until the movie starts?” Virgil questioned, speeding up a bit, but not too much that he’d risk getting a speeding ticket.

“Seven minutes,” Dexter replies looking at the digital tickets he bought online.

We’re still ten minutes away. We’re not going to make it. We’ll miss the beginning of the movie. I’ve messed it up for everyone.

Cue the shaking and shortness of breath to take over his body as his anxiety skyrocketed. Dexter noticed his panic and was quick to reassure and comfort him.

“The ads last fifteen minutes, we’ll make it on time,” Dexter said.

Virgil nodded his head, but only to not concern Dexter any further. The man already had so much on his plate and did so much for him, he didn’t want to be any more of a burden on him. Instead, he focused on the twins in the back talking excitedly about the movie they’ve been waiting to see.

“I can’t wait to hear the new songs!” Roman cheered, bouncing a little in his seat.

“There aren’t gonna be any songs, stupid. It’s a Pixar movie, not a Disney movie.” Remus chided beside him.

“Toy Story 2 had a song in it! And I’m not stupid, you’re stupid, stupid!” Roman argues back, sticking his tongue out at his brother.

“Idiot!”

“Dummy!”

“Boys! Quiet down back there!” Dexter demanded, giving them each a glare through the rearview mirror.

Roman and Remus stopped their little spat but continued to glare and make faces at each other. Virgil watched them in the mirror and smiled a little to himself.

It had been a grand total of four months since Virgil had turned the big three-one and realized that his chances of ever having someone in his life had escaped him, and when he admitted that he was not physically, mentally, or financially capable of adopting a child. Though, instead of accepting a life of loneliness filled with nothing but endless days at work and the occasional excursions with his two friends, Virgil decided that he would visit the Stork Agency at least twice a week to volunteer and be around the kids.

At that time, he had grown very close with the two eldest kids at the Agency, falling for their quirky personalities. Virgil would usually come on the days when Remus wasn’t allowed at school to help tutor him. He’d bring books on his grade level math, science, and English and help him with his homework. When he wasn’t tutoring him he’d read stories to him to help his reading comprehension. Improvement in his grades began to appear after three weeks of work and Virgil remembered the smile on Remus’s face when he brought home a C+ on a math test. Dexter had felt such pride over the score and even hung it on the fridge to celebrate.

When he wasn’t helping Remus catch up with the rest of his grade, he would play video games with him on the WiiU. Remus was a near master at Mario Kart and it was practically impossible to beat him, but when it came to games like Super Smash Bros, Virgil reigned champ. Dexter wasn’t much of a gamer and often just sat by and watched them play if he wasn’t too busy taking care of the other kids. The best part was watching Roman and Remus play together since they were both just as good and their matches went on for long periods of time in a tight struggle.

Although video gaming and reading stories were enjoyable, the most entertaining activity they liked to do was anything creative. Remus loved to draw, and while his drawings were at times weird and sometimes disturbing, he had a real talent for it. Roman, on the other hand, was a storyteller and liked to write scripts for his own plays that he would act out with whoever he could get to join him.

Four months may not be a long time to know someone, but Virgil already felt like attached to the boys, and watching them act silly was one way he was able to calm down. Although, the best way for him to calm down was by watching Dexter beside him parenting them. Even if he was annoyed or frustrated with them, he had a knack for handling the wildness that gave him a special kind of shine.

The twins were not the only ones who somehow worked their way into his heart over the past four months, despite his best efforts to keep it secured under lock and key.

Miraculously, traffic began to clear up and they were able to navigate through the city a bit faster. This put Virgil slightly more at ease, and he refused to look at the car’s digital clock to keep his anxiety down to a minimum. When they finally did arrive in the theater parking lot, Logan and Patton in tow behind him, Virgil raced around until he found a parking spot with empty spaces around so the others could park as well. 

Practically leaping out of his seat, Virgil opened up the door for Roman behind him, while Dexter did the same for Remus, and walked to meet up with the others so Dexter could do a headcount before heading into the theater. 

Dexter went on ahead to give the clerk their tickets, while Virgil led the children to the theater, while Logan and Patton went to buy the popcorn. Just as Dexter said it would, the movie trailers were still playing by the time they walked in. Virgil guided the kids to their seats, making sure to leave a few seats empty so that the other adults can sit around and keep an eye on them.

The movie trailers reached its final one by the time Dexter walked in and took his seat in front of Virgil. 

“See, I told you it would turn out alright.” Dexter smiled over his shoulder, turning to look at him from one row down.

“Yeah… it did.” Virgil breathed out, his heart rate still calming down from his near panic attack.

Dexter smiles once more, then turned back to face the front as the movie began. Logan and Patton walked it with everyone’s snacks just in time.

The movie was definitely a lot more interesting than Virgil had thought it would be, not that he thought it would be completely boring. The plotline follows the story of a young girl who accidentally stumbled into her father’s laboratory and travels into another dimension, where she believed he disappeared to when she was a baby. The young girl then seeks after her father in the strange world, making friends along the way, and drawing attention from, and being hunted by, the people who captured her father. In the end, she reunites with him, the meeting was emotional enough to jerk a few tears from more than just him, and they go home. There was even a song sung for Roman to enjoy, and just enough violence to keep Remus entertained, but not so much that it was majorly concerning. A little over two hours later, the movie ended and the adults had to, once again, escort a crowd of small children out of the theater, which was no easy feat.

Along the way back to the cars, Roman practically bounced up and down as he reported every moment of the movie that he enjoyed. Dexter held onto his right hand and Virgil held onto his left, walking closely with the boy in between them. Remus basically hung off of Dexter’s shoulders, having asked to sit atop of them when they walked out. Dexter looked tired and repeatedly told him to stop squirming around, but it did little to calm the energized eleven-year-old. The scene warmed his heart and Virgil nearly laughed out loud at how silly he looked. He desperately wanted to take a picture but didn’t want to appear creepy. 

On the road back to the agency home, the twins sat and talked excitedly about the movie in the back. In the front, he and Dexter sat in silence. Virgil wanted to say something, anything, but all his words got tied together whenever he tried to speak. Dexter made a few comments towards him, but Virgil was only able to reply in short, broken, phrases. By the time they arrived back, Virgil still had said barely two words to the other man.

Why am I like this? Why can’t I do anything right?

Logan and Patton pulled into the driveway and along the street just a minute or two after them, both looking fatigued. Both Logan and Patton had worked full shifts that day, while it had been Virgil’s day off. He offered to help the children in and to bed so that they could go back to their apartment sooner. Patton argued against it at first, but one hushed word from Dexter, that Virgil couldn’t quite hear had him readily leaving with a smile, quickly dragging Logan along with him. A thrill of foreboding ran down his spine and Virgil then felt like he had made a mistake by offering to do so.

“Racoon man!” Remus cried, pulling on his arm violently, “I want soda!”

“No can do little man, it’s past your bedtime,” Virgil said, hauling him up into his arms, grabbing another kid’s hand, and leading them to the house. The movie was a late one and had ended at nine, which was just an hour before lights out. That meant that He and Dexter had a lot of work to do before then.

Dexter went on ahead to help the smallest toddlers to sleep in their room next to his in the basement. Virgil took it upon himself to help the older children get ready for bed upstairs. Setting Remus back down, he nudged him inside and directed him upstairs, almost closing the door behind him until he noticed Roman still standing out on the porch.

“Roman? You okay, little dude?” Virgil asked, walking out to him. Roman jumped slightly at the sound of his voice and quickly turned his head away, rubbing his face with the back of his arm.

“Yeah!” Roman replied, turning around hastily, head low. “Just allergies,”

Virgil wanted to interrogate him a bit further, not believing the excuse behind the tears the boy thought he didn’t see, but he ran inside and up the stairs before he could ask any further questions. Virgil sighed with a frown and followed after. 

It was truly a task to get all the kids to settle down enough to change into their pajamas, brush their teeth, and get into bed; but he didn’t have to do anything at all for Roman, the downcasted boy was in bed before anyone else. Virgil wanted to find out what was wrong but had a feeling that he just needed a little time to himself for now.

By the time he settled all the kids to bed and turned out the lights it was well past ten at night. Taking one final look at the twins resting in their beds, longer than the looks he gave the other kids, he went back down the stairs to head out and get some sleep of his own.

He grabbed his keys from the coffee table and had one foot out the door when Dexter suddenly walked in from the kitchen behind him, making him jolt slightly as he looked nothing more than a shadow in the lightless room.

“You heading out already?” Dexter asked him, switching on a lamp near him. Virgil squinted against the abrupt introduction of light, but once his eyes adjusted he noticed the simple cashmere black long-sleeve Dexter had changed into that hung eye blindingly tight against his body, and a small bottle of wine in his hand. Virgil turned his eyes up to his face to stop mentally drooling over him, but by the smirk on his face, Dexter had already realized what he had been doing. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to have alcohol in the house?” Virgil coughed, trying to regain the cool that he never had.

“It’s my own small stash from my safe, the kids won’t ever get to it.” Dexter said matter-of-factly stepping away from the entrance frame with a push of his hip, “So…?”

Virgil looked to him and then to the small bottle of alcohol. A large part of him screamed not to risk it and run away and never come back. Deep down he knew what it would lead to, he isn’t dense, he’s noticed the attention Dexter’s given him over the past few months, but he didn’t trust himself not to ruin it.

I ruin everything. I’m the reason everyone left me. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t even try.

Even so, despite his best efforts to remain indifferent and unaffected by his charms, Virgil constantly found himself falling for his charisma and passion. He hoped that, just maybe, he would have another chance at a relationship.

“Maybe just one glass.” Virgil concedes, closing the door and following after Dexter into the back room.

The sat on the long couch, a foot of space between them, with wine glasses each in their hands. Dexter pop opened the bottle and poured a bit in both their glasses. They clinked their drinks together in toast and took their first sip. Virgil usually wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but the fruity taste sat deliciously on his tongue and drew him back for more.

“I wanted to thank you for all your help tonight, Virgil,” Dexter spoke up after their cheer, the rim of his glass against his lips.

“I didn’t really do anything.” Virgil huffed, twirling the drink in its glass.

“Yes you did, you made my job easier just by being there,” Dexter confessed urgently, chasing away his self-deprecating thoughts as soon as they came, just as he always did. “The children really like you.”

“Well, kids are easy to please.” Virgil blushed, turning away shyly, wrapping an arm around himself.

Slowly a hand reached out and gently grasped his chin, softly pulling it back as it were a moment before. Virgil then realized just how close they had become, the foot falling to a mere few inches. Their faces were within breathing distance and he could feel the steamed warmth of Dexter’s breath blowing against his cheek.

“They aren’t the only ones who like you.” He whispered,

A pull drew them closer together, closing the space between them. The grip on his chin was soft and gentle, allowing room for him to pull away at any moment. Virgil’s mind roared in his head as he lost himself in the moment and in Dexter’s caramel brown eyes. The time it took for them to finally reach each other was painstakingly slow, as though an eternity had passed by without them as they stayed still together, trapped in each other’s embrace. For the first time Virgil felt relaxed in someone else’s arms, he wasn’t afraid about what could be and could only think of what currently was.

However, the warm touch of Dexter’s lips against his reawakened those fears.

What if my breath smells? Am I out of practice? Am I a horrible kisser? Why is this happening? Why is he doing this? Why does he like? What if I screw it up? What if I push him away? I can’t lose him!

“Wait, stop!” Virgil shouted, pushing Dexter off of him.

Dexter fell back into the cushions roughly and looked back at him in surprise, confusion, and regret.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that-” He immediately began to apologize, which only made Virgil feel worse.

“No, it’s not that, it’s just-” I ruined it. I ruin everything. Why did I push him away? I’m so pathetic. I hurt him. I’m pushing him away. I don’t want him to leave. I have to do something to fix this. “Ca-can we just be friends?” He stuttered out, shutting his eyes closed and tightening his fists on the fabric of his jeans.

He shook in his spot, sobs trapped in his chest begging to break out, on the cusps of an emotional outburst. It took all of his strength and focus to keep from bursting out in tears and cries. Even so, a few tears managed to slip past him and fall down his cheeks.

A hand reached out and grasped his face, but only to wipe away the tears that had fallen through.

“If that’s what you want, then of course.” His kind voice answered, much too forgiving after what Virgil had just pulled.

“I’m sorry.” He hiccuped with a sob, causing another round of tears to fall.

“Don’t be, I don’t want to force anything onto you.” Dexter smiled, though he could see that it was forced and hurt.

Fuck, I’m the absolute worst.

-

The next few weeks were awkward as hell, though it was mostly his fault.

After, whatever the hell that was happened, Virgil practically ran from the house and scrammed his way to his apartment condo. About an hour later he received an incoming text from Dexter.

Dee: I’m sorry, forget what happened.

He wanted to, he really did; if it were possible he’d erase the feeling of being held so gently, he’d erase the image of Dexter’s eyes boring kindly into his, erase the smell of his burnt wood cologne. If the power to erase his memories existed within him he would do so in a heartbeat, so that his heart would stop beating so heavily and his clutch onto hope could come undone.

But no, he didn’t have that power, so now he was left to remember it all in excruciating detail. The hope inside him that he had desperately been trying to push down and squash had now gotten the upper hand.

No matter what he did, or told himself, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the emotions building inside him. Yet, it seemed that it didn’t make a difference in the end what he felt towards Dexter since he had already gone and ruined it, whatever it was.

In an attempt to avoid him and the awkwardness, Virgil switched from going twice a week to just once a week, but that did very little to help, in fact, it only made it worse. Before it was just strained and uncomfortable glances and awkward small talk, but after he started cutting his visits short they began to talk less and less, sometimes he wouldn’t even see Dexter because he’d be too busy with the other children. It wasn’t unusual for him to be busy with the other kids, but he had always somehow made time to talk with Virgil, but now it was as if he wasn’t putting in any effort.

Virgil didn’t blame Dexter for being terse or angry with him, he would be too if he had that shit pulled on him, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Although the biggest problem to come out of all this wasn’t the tension between the two men, it was the effect it had on the kids, Roman and Remus specifically. Since he only came once a week now Virgil had barely any time to be around them, and sometimes he’d only be able to see one or the other if either of them at all. His usual tutoring with Remus had been cut short and he could tell that he was beginning to struggle again as his class began to take a lead on him the more new material was introduced. Remus promised to work his hardest without him and said that Dexter helped him when he found the time, but Virgil couldn’t help but feel guilty.

Roman had taken it differently and had taken Dexter’s side, although he didn’t even know what happened between them. He grew quieter and would say barely two words to him. Virgil didn’t know what to do about it, wasn’t sure how to fix everything he had destroyed.

But he had to make that first step.

It was almost dinner time for the kids, Dexter occupied the kitchen preparing the food while Jessica, a volunteer, sat with Virgil and the other kids in the backroom as they watched Barbie. Remus sat by his side, pretending to be working on his scheduled reading homework, but really was focusing on the movie. The only one not there, besides the smaller toddlers taking their nap, was Roman.

Looking over his shoulder, Virgil stared out of the window into the backyard at the small treehouse in the great oak that sat alone out there. Recently, Roman had been retreating to his ‘tower,’ purposefully avoiding him. Virgil decided that, at the very least, he could try to earn the boy’s trust again.

Ruffling Remus’s hair as he stood, Virgil went out the screen door to the backyard and went over to the treehouse the boy was hiding in. Climbing the wood ladder, Virgil gently knocked on the door before he pushed it open and let himself in.

The treehouse was pretty scarce of anything, but it had an old pillow and a few stuffed animals strewn about on the floor. The ceiling was really low, which meant it was impossible for Virgil to stand, so he had to remain seated the entire time.

“Hey bud,” Virgil greeted, crawling into the cramped space, “You mind if I join you up here?” Roman didn’t reply, sitting in the corner of the wooden fortress with his back faced towards him. “Look, I know you’re angry at me right now, but I didn’t mean to-”

“Why are you still here?” The sixth-grader cut him off, his voice icy and hard.

“I- Excuse me?”

“I can tell how much you hate being here. Why don’t you stop faking it and just go?” Roman spat, curling further into himself. “All they ever do is leave, even if they promise to come back, they never do. So why don’t you go away!” He shouted in a broken sob that pierced Virgil’s heart.

Roman had always been a cheerful and energetic child, similar to his brother but in a more controlled way. However, there were moments when he seemed quiet and subdued. The moments never lasted long and were far and few in between, and whenever Virgil asked about it he would always change the subject or give a simple answer. He thought it was just one of his many quirks, he should have realized sooner that he was feeling this way. It made perfect sense, Roman had lived the past ten years of his life in disappointment as he watched the children around him steadily be adopted one by one, which he and his brother were left behind. Perhaps they had been considered by a few families, and maybe some of them even promise to come back and never did. They grew up being judged and rejected by adults, they’ve known nothing else, it’s become their entire existence and identity; what did a child make of that?

“Was- was it me?” Roman asked sobbing, more to himself than to Virgil, his eyes blurred with tears and snot running down his nose.

Suddenly, without thinking, Virgil snapped and reached out, pulling Roman into a massive hug, holding him tightly against his chest and running his fingers through his hair.

“Roman, Roman no. You’ve done nothing wrong.” He told the crying by, setting his chin on top of his small head.

“Then why aren’t you around anymore?”

“Because adults are idiots sometimes.” Virgil chuckled dryly.

He’s been a damn fool lately, running away from his problems won’t solve anything, and not talking about it made it worse. He hadn’t meant to cause anyone harm, never intended for the boys to be affected the way they were. But it happened, so he had to fix it.

Once Roman calmed down and regained himself Virgil lead him back inside the house, hand in hand, and sat him with his brother in front of the still playing movie. He could tell the boy didn’t want him to leave his side, but the sooner he fixed his mistake the better it would be for everything else.

Dexter was still in the kitchen, placing a casserole into the oven. Virgil watched him for a moment, observing how calm he looked when he was focused, calm and beautiful. Dexter set the casserole on the middle shelf and closed the oven door, setting a timer on the stove, and then turned and caught Virgil in the middle of his staring.

“Hello.” He greeted, his usually warm smile appearing slightly strained.

“Hey, Dexter,” Virgil returned his greeting looking down at his feet, “c-could I talk to you?”

“Of course, what is it?” He asked, taking off his oven mitts, throwing them on the counter, and leaning his weight against the refrigerator. 

“I…” Virgil began, still looking at the ground, crossing his arms and rubbing his sides nervously, “I wanted to say I’m sorry… for pushing you away.”

Dexter’s calm and relaxed facade suddenly fell away and he became rigid and stood straighter. Even his fake smile cannot remain, his face becoming harder and somber with retrospect.

“I told you before, it’s alright.” Dexter reminded him, sounding downtrodden.

“No, it isn’t, I made you think that you were the problem. I never wanted to do that to you.” Virgil argued shaking his head as he looked up from his feet, his voice unintentionally growing louder.

Dexter his eyes grew wide and surprise, as did Virgil‘s, neither were used to say anxious librarian using a loud tone or becoming aggressive. It wasn’t that Virgil was never aggressive, in fact, he could be quite aggressive, although not physically and rather verbally; but since whenever he was around Dexter he was also around children the former never really had the chance to see that side of him. Virgil froze for a moment, fearing what Dexter would think of him after he yelled. However, Dexter didn’t appear to be offended, and he actually appeared endeared by it. It’s my return, but just for a moment, except this time it was real.

“Well, I forgive you, and I’m sorry as well.” Dexter exhaled, leaning away from the refrigerator.

“What for? You didn’t do anything wrong.” Virgil asked in confusion.

“Yeah I did, I made you uncomfortable, and spent the time since avoiding sulking about it. I’ve been acting like a child.”

“If anyone’s a child it’s me, I’ve been avoiding you like an idiot.” Virgil disagreed, putting himself down that he might build Dexter up.

“Don’t say that about yourself.” The caretaker said in an almost commanding voice, becoming rigid in his stance once again. This time it was Virgil‘s turn to be surprised at the other new show of aggression. Sure, Dexter was no saint, Virgil had seen him get frustrated and annoyed with the children multiple times since he first came to the Stork House, but it was always in a nurturing way, like a parent to a child. His tone of voice and the look in his eyes showed something else besides parental affection, kind, caring, and intense.

It’s the truth, though.

Those were the thoughts that Virgil always told himself and believed. It was easier to take the blame than to risk hurting someone else. Still, it was nice to have someone to help combat those thoughts, even if he didn’t listen.

Their eyes stayed locked for a few moments more, taking part in an unspoken battle against each other for a prize he couldn’t figure out. A heartbeat or two more passed when Dexter’s strong stance and expression began to crumble away into one more relaxed, and he began to laugh, although Virgil wants sure if he was laughing at him or something else entirely. Dexter’s hearty and breathless laughter filled the room and chased away the tension; Virgil had no choice but to join in until they both became laughing fools.

“I think the kids are starting to rub off on us,” Dexter chokes out between laughs. 

“I think you mean just you,” Virgil teased, holding his now hurting stomach.

“Says the guy pointing fingers like a child,” Dexter smirked.

Virgil feigned offense and put a hand on his chest and pretended to be wounded, just like Roman would do. 

Perhaps the children really were rubbing off on him, but he didn’t consider that a bad thing. So what if he acted like a child from time to time, being around these kids had been some of his best days. Ever since he came to the Stork Agency Virgil has found it in himself to smile again without it being fake or forced. He’s having actual fun again, he feels like he’s contributing to something bigger than himself, and he feels almost whole again.

Dexter excused himself to call the kids to wash their hands before dinner, which was finished and set out on the counter. 

Virgil watched the man in both wonder and curiosity. He had never laughed like that with anyone else, not since Matthew, and he had never expected to do so again. Virgil had welcomed in failure with each relationship he walked into, he expected and built up walls to protect himself for when it inevitably happened. Yet, this man, in just a handful of months, had managed to put a dent in his walls and threatened to break them down for good.

In his fear and natural reflex, Virgil wanted to put an end to the threat and keep his walls up higher than they were before. He had been hurt too many times and feared being completely shattered if he took one more blow. Even so, Virgil found himself welcoming in the destruction of his walls. He had trapped himself in a box for years, relinquishing his freedom and joy in exchange for security. He was bound by the chains of his own creation with the key in his hand at all times.

Virgil had a choice to entrust that key to someone else, but he still wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to. However, with how things were going, not only would his walls be removed, but he will also hand over the key to his heart as well. And Dexter would be at the center of it all.

-

“So if this is the tens place, and this is the hundreds, which one is this?”

“Uhm… it’s the… it’s the thousandths place.” Remus replied, head bent over his homework booklet as he stared intensely at the numbers on the page.

“Good job! So if that’s the thousandths place, where does this number round to?” Virgil quizzed, pointing at the four at the end of the equation.

“It…It…um, it doesn’t.” 

“Correct! But why doesn’t it?” He continued, making sure that he wasn’t just guessing.

“Because… it’s less than five, so… it doesn’t round up.” Remus answered, his eyes lighting up.

“Great job bob, Einstein is gonna have to look out.” Virgil congratulated him, pulling him into a hug and affectionately ruffing up his hair.

“Yeah or else he’ll have a chicken stuck up his butt.” The boy proclaimed with a grin.

“Mister Virgil? Can you help me?” Another child, Samantha, asked. Virgil nodded and scooted over to her to look over her work and help her where he could. 

The fresh spring breeze blew through the open windows and ruffled up the worksheet, nearly blowing them off the table. May had come, and with it, the warmth partnered with the ending of spring and the approaching summer. Not only did it bring a change of weather, but also the impending student stress of finals. Virgil, who had actually somehow made it through college all four years and was a surprisingly decent student, due to his anxiety over failure, offered to help them. After all, how hard could grade school classes be?

At first, he had helped only Remus since he was still a ways behind his class, but soon after all the other children gathered around him asking for help in their studies. He would have been overwhelmed if it wasn’t for Patton, who offered to help in English and History, while Virgil helped with Math and Science.

By far, the hardest subject for Remus to grasp was math. He really was a creative boy and was more of an artist than anything else, the math simply didn’t come easy for him; it was the same for Roman as well. If he could, Virgil would move them to a fine arts school where they could cultivate their talents and focus on what they were good at and not be held back. Roman had a better time in math and science than his brother, but they still weren’t his favorite subjects, so he didn’t need to ask for help as often, except when it came to mean, median, and range.

“This is stupid! Why do I have to know this?” Roman complained, throwing down his pencil in frustration.

“Honestly I don’t know bud,” Virgil sighed and patted the boy’s head, “But if you pass your test I’ll take you out for ice cream.” 

Roman’s eyes lit up at that and he immediately took the bait, returning to his work and giving the problems more of his attention. Virgil smiled as he watched the boy’s comedic face as he focused solely on the homework sheet. Virgil remembered hating math in school, despite being good at it, and it did little to serve him outside of the education system. Unless Roman wanted to go into a science or math-related field, which he probably didn’t, Virgil doubted he’d really need the information he’s learning.

“Hey raccoon man, are you busy next Tuesday?” Remus suddenly spoke up from his seat beside him, using the nickname he had received the first day they met.

“Besides work in the afternoon, not really, why?” Virgil inquired of the boy.

Roman, who seemed to already know what his brother was talking about, tensed up and gave a commanding, “Don’t.”

But he went ignored as Remus continued on anyways.

“We’re having parents day at school. Snake man is going because he’s our guardian, but I want you to be there too.” The eleven-year-old beamed brightly, bouncing around excitedly in his seat.

“That’s such a good idea!” Patton gasped and smiled widely with a clap of his hands, taking a break from helping Maddie to listen in on their conversation.

“Oh, well I’m not sure if it’s okay for-”

“He’s not our dad, Remus.” Roman spat out loudly, causing the room to quiet down and turn to them. Realizing that all eyes were on him, Roman flushed a bright red and turned his head down, but still remained upset. “He’s just some guy.”

The room was deathly silent as all the children and both adults stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to the young boy’s sudden outburst. Roman froze as realization dawned on his face that was quickly replaced with a mix of anger and guilt. Standing from his seat at the coffee table, Roman ran away down the hall and upstairs, the sound of footsteps echoing in his wake.

No one made a move for several moments after and just looked around at each other at a loss for words. Virgil, however, snapped out of his shock and swiftly followed after him. It didn’t take long to find him as he wasn’t really hiding, and was simply lying on his bed on the bottom bunk with his back turned towards him.

“Hey, you okay?” Virgil asked, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry Mr. Virgil,” Roman apologized, turning over to face him, his eyes full of tears and snot running down his nose.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Virgil told him and pulled him into a side hug with one arm, “I understand.” 

Even though it surprised him, even though it hurt a little to hear those words, Roman was right, he wasn’t their dad, he had no right to act as if he was. “I know I’m not your dad, but if you’d let me, I’d love to go to your school.”

“Really?” Roman wondered, his glassy eyes shone bright with excitement and he sat up on the back of his legs.

“Yeah, of course.” 

Still, despite the legality of it all, he wanted to go to their school and feel like their parents, even if it was just for a day.

“So I heard you're coming to parents day.” Dexter started, speaking first between them as they walked together through the supermarket. 

Normally it would be Patton’s duty to help with groceries, but he was currently out of commission taking care of a sick Logan. Virgil had warned him that he was getting too much dust and not enough sunlight from overworking himself as per usual at the library. Well, it wasn’t as if Virgil practice perfectly healthy habits either, but which one of them was sick in bed? Exactly.

Either way, Virgil was now stuck pushing a cart around while Dexter read off his list and filled the basket with different foods, sauces, spices, and treats. He wasn’t too bent over it though, spending time with Dexter wasn’t a complete punishment. Ever since they had that talk two weeks ago the tension had basically dissipated. Until today that is; Virgil didn’t know exactly what had happened, but ever since his last visit earlier that week Dexter had been more quiet than usual, almost like he was busy thinking.

“Yeah, Remus invited me.” Virgil agreed, taking the cans of alfredo sauce the other man held out to him and placing them in the cart. “Roman didn’t like it at first, but he’s alright with it now.”

Dexter check pasta sauce of his list and stayed silent for a moment, gazing far ahead of him at something Virgil couldn’t see, his eyes cold and focused. Virgil gulped down a breath of nervous air as he grew anxious about the conversation.

Is he mad at me? Does he not want me to go to parents’ day?

“I worry about them sometimes.”

Virgil blinked and snapped out of his anxious thoughts before he could spiral, stunned and intrigued by the statement.

“Huh?”

Dexter walked on ahead, reading over his shopping list and leading them to the next item they needed. Virgil watched him walk in front of him, noticing the tension in his shoulders, and followed after.

“They’re so used to disappoint and being rejected by every foster and adopter that comes to the house,” he began, his tone low and somber, “but you’re the only one to ever wanted to come back and see them. I worry sometimes that it’s raising their hopes.” He confessed head hung low as he came to a slow stop and stared down at his feet. “Do you ever think you’ll adopt them?”

The librarian opened his mouth to respond but hesitated in his answer. Will he adopt them? There was no denial that he had grown attached to the boys since he first met them on his birthday six months ago, that being with them brought him a sort of joy and fulfillment he hadn’t felt in a long time. Of course, there were times he has been annoyed with them and wanted to walk out, such as when they were being stubborn and difficult or throwing tantrums, but they were only children and he came back to see them anyways.

Even so, was he ready to take care of two children? It’s not like he was making a whole lot of money at his job as an assistant manager if it was just one of them it might work, but there was no way he could choose between them or split them apart. And if he did take both of them, would there be enough room in his condo for them to live. His condo wasn’t that big and had only two rooms, both of which were currently being used. He could empty out his office, but that would mean they’d have to share a small amount of space. That may work for now, but what about when they’re older? Plus, with his work hours, he wouldn’t come back home until around ten at night five days a week, he couldn’t leave them alone like that.

“Its a big change in life to have a kid, let alone two. I still don’t know if I’m ready.” Virgil admitted regretfully.

The last thing he wanted to do was to toy with the boys’ feelings, but he couldn’t take them in, not yet at least.

“No one ever truly is.” The caregiver stated, his voice sounding serious but his face was kind with affection and understanding, “I’m not going to pressure you into making a decision, but please consider it. I can tell how much you love them just by watching you. And I know for a fact they love you back.”

Virgil smiled to himself, but it was slightly strained, his emotions were a haywire mix of joy, grief, pride, and guilt. Even if he loved being around them, wanted to see them grow and be there for them, they weren’t his and he had no right to them. If Virgil had been brave he would have admitted it to himself by now, that he couldn’t imagine life without the twins anymore, he could picture a future without them in it. But he feared what that kind of commitment entailed, and distressed over whether his broken self could manage it.

-

Requesting the day off to attend a parents’ day event at one of the local middle schools for two children who weren’t his that he met at an orphanage less than a year ago had certainly been an interesting way to start off his Tuesday morning. He had the date marked down on his Twenty One Pilots calendar, on his iPhone planner, and had even written reminders on sticky notes and placed them throughout his condo. Virgil did not want to miss it for the world. Thankfully his boss hadn’t questioned him too much on it and gave him the day off.

The next part of his morning had been dressing the part, even if he wasn’t their dad he wanted to make a good impression on the teachers. Besides, Dexter would be there too, and he didn’t want to slack off in front of someone who always somehow managed to look irresistibly good.

Not that that was the point of today.

Starting off with a quick shower, Virgil carefully blow-dried and styled his hair, keeping his bangs out of his face this time. When it came time to get dressed, he settled on a clean pair of non-ripped black jeans and a dark grey tee shirt without a printed design, since they were some of the few clothes that seemed appropriate to wear at a middle school. The real trouble came with picking a jacket, most of his wear oversized hoodies he had modified himself that definitely wouldn’t fly, but after some extensive rummaging through his closet, he found an old black blazer he only ever used for formal occasions. Once he was dressed he looked at himself in the mirror and decided it was good enough if not a little foreign. 

He had promised to meet Dexter and the boys at the school gates before class started, so when he had parked in the visitor lot and jogged up to the front of the school he could see the three standing on the side waiting for him.

Just as he had expected, Dexter looked stunning. Shaking that thought out of his head, Virgil focused on the boys and continued to jog over to them.

“Hey guys,” he greeted, “You ready to head in?”

“Duh, we were waiting for you, raccoon.” Remus retorted, and then received a hard nudge from behind by Dexter.

“Remus, That’s not how you should speak to people.” The caregiver warned the boy. “Now let’s get going.”

“Yeah stupid!” Roman mocked,

“I’m not stupid, stupid!”

“That reply was stupid.”

“Snake man!” Remus cried loudly,

Dexter groaned in exasperation and walked in between, separating them before they could continue any further, and pulled them along by their hands. Virgil chuckled and followed along, taking Remus’s free hand in his as he walked alongside them.

“Rough morning?” Virgil asked, having a side glance to Dexter.

“You could say that.” He muttered, “Johnathan canceled on me, but luckily Ashley was able to watch over the kids while I was away.”

“That’s rough buddy,” 

“Whatever you say, Prince Zuko.” Dexter laughed, understanding the reference. Virgil grinned and laughed along too, glad that he was able to bring a smile to his face.

The boys’ classroom was in the third wing of the school near the very end of the hall, but before they went to class they stopped by their lockers so they could put away their backpacks and grab their books. The room was decently large, with desks lined up in rows of four by six, extra chairs had been placed near the outer desks and in the back.

The first class of the day was English and Reading, which meant pretty much the entire hour was spent with the children just reading books on their own and discussing what they read, which was honestly kinda boring. Virgil tried to pay attention but once he noticed the other parents all on their phones or, not so secretly, taking naps, he succumbed and pulled out his phone as well.

The next class was much more exciting, and not just because Virgil was partial to the subject. The makeshift not-family walked together to the classroom directly across the hall to Mr. Humford’s basic Biology class. This class was a far cry from the last as this teacher decided to hold a parent and student team biology game. Although he had been a duel science major, his studies had been in computer science and library science, and yes that is an actual science. 

For the game, parents and children split into teams of two and went up to the whiteboard to face off against each other three at a time. To do this, Virgil teamed up with Remus, while Dexter paired with Roman. 

Dexter and Roman went up in the first round but lost, coming as a bit of a shock to Virgil. The caretaker came off as a highly intelligent person, but perhaps science wasn’t his strong suit. Virgil and Remus went up in the third round and actually managed to win theirs, which brought them into a final showdown against four other groups. They didn’t win, but they had finished in third place and got some candy as a prize. The teacher and other students looked extremely surprised at Remus when he got his award, but Remus was simply happy and proud and rubbed his reward in Roman’s face. 

This caused Dexter to force him to share when the older twin began to loudly complain, which only made Remus complain and disturb the classroom. The science teacher looked at him in agitation and looked like he was about to say something, but Virgil swiftly handled it by covertly giving Remus some more candy when their backs were turned, winking and holding a finger against his lips to keep it a secret.

After science, there was a ten-minute break that passed by in a flash and then they were suddenly in math class. The class was similar to the first in that it was filled with the kids doing boring work and parents hanging out on their phones. The first fifteen minutes were filled with the children doing a math warm-up sheet, which then turned into a forty lesson and discussion. 

Virgil could tell that the teacher was trying to engage the children and get them excited for the lesson, but he couldn’t really blame them for being bored in a math class.

“Okay, so today we’re going to go over a new topic, I hope you did the pre-reading I told you to do because it went over what we’re about to learn: absolute value. Now, can anyone tell me what the absolute value of one hundred and two is?” The young female teacher asked, moving back and forth in the front as she looked across the rows of preteens.

No one raised their hands, obviously not having read the assigned math book. The teacher looked slightly distressed and called out again, “Anyone? Anyone at all?” 

In the back row, in the very far corner, Remus energetically raised his hand up high, a grin on his face. Virgil beamed with pride over him taking the initiative, especially since he had helped Remus with absolute value last week.

The teacher, however, either didn’t notice Remus or pointedly ignored him. With a heavy sigh, she turned towards the board to do the equation herself.

“Excuse me miss, but Remus has his hand up,” Vigil spoke up, catching the teacher’s attention before she could write the answer on the board.

The teacher looked over at him in surprise, as if she didn’t believe him, and turned towards Remus slowly, hands on her hips.

“Well, Remus, do you actually know it?” She asked, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. A few of the kids around him chuckled among themselves, but Remus didn’t seem to notice.

Dexter twitched a bit in his seat beside him and scrunched his face in annoyance, and Virgil couldn’t agree more.

“It’s one hundred and two, Miss Lady!” Remus shouted, louder than it was necessary.

“Hm, that’s correct, though it wasn’t that hard of a question.” She chided, writing the answer on the board. “You see, when you have an absolute value symbol in any number, the answer will always be-”

Remus wasn’t called on for the rest of the class period, even though he raised his hand several times, and despite Virgil mentioning it, the teacher refused to call on him. And as they went through the day he realized that she wasn’t the only teacher to do that to him. In almost every single one of his classes, Remus went ignored, left out of discussions, or had discrete, snide remarks sent towards him.

He could tell that he wasn’t the only person to notice this, as not only did Dexter see the difference in treatment Remus was receiving, but Roman did as well and sat glaring daggers at the teacher and the other students.

Sadly enough, this was a recurring issue throughout the rest of the day in almost every class. If it wasn’t the students leaving him out of groups or ignoring him it was the teachers using underlying tones or making quiet remarks towards her intelligence or personality. It was always “Remus, focus,” and “Stop bothering the other students,” and “Please apply yourself more,” or “Put in more effort.”

They tried to make it seem like they were being benevolent or helpful since they were being watched, but Virgil could see through their facade and knew they were usually straight-up assholes. Especially the teacher they were currently with who had no issue pausing in his Geography lecture to straight-up yell at the boy.

“Remus Sanchez! Stop fidgeting!” The teacher, and thankfully last one of the day, ordered in a commanding, boisterous bellow.

Remus, who sat directly in front of his desk, had been rocking back and forth in his seat, tapping his own tune on his leg with his pencils as if they were drums as he listened to the boring lesson on the geography of Florida. The sudden shout had scared him into stillness and he immediately sat up straight in his chair. The way he reacted so swiftly and in an orderly fashion hinted that it had not been the first time Remus had been yelled at.

“Sorry Mister Sir, I-” Remus began but was cut off with another shout.

“And stop with that childish nickname! It’s Mr. Ruiz, I expect that even you can remember that.”

Remus didn’t answer back and instead simply turned his head down towards his desk and gave a small nod. 

A few parents looked around at each other in concern and simply shrugged, knowing it was wrong but not willing to do anything against the geography teacher. Virgil clenched his fists and looked over to Dexter, who looked back equally as furious, but more as a quiet cold fury rather than Virgil’s boiling hot rage. Dexter shook his head and mouthed “after class.” But that wasn’t enough for him, this dick didn’t deserve to be let off easy for what he just did.

Mr. Ruiz turned with an approving nod at Remus’s submission, and went back to his powerpoint but  said barely two words before Virgil said loudly, “Excuse me, Mr. Ruiz, can you not speak to Remus like that?”

The teacher paused in his lecture and turned slowly to face whoever had dared to cause such an offense by interrupting him. Mr. Ruiz looked directly at Virgil in disdain and astonishment, as though he actually couldn’t believe that a “family acquaintance,” as he had been labeled several times that day, had actually spoken up in defiance.

“I beg your pardon?” He questioned,

His heart pounded in his chest at the upcoming confrontation, his anxiety yelled at him in his ears to shut up and apologize, but he shoved it all down, letting his anger drown out his fear. Virgil raised his head to face him and stood from his chair, his shaking at his sides.

“I said, don’t speak to him like that. Ever again.” Virgil spoke through tight lips, drawn into a sneer.

“Mr. Black, I highly doubt that now is the proper time to act in such a way-”

“But it’s time to yell at a kid in front of his parents? Are you trying to send a message or something?” He challenged, 

“Virgil, maybe you should calm down-” Dexter tried to calm him down, placing a gentle hand on his arm, but failed as it only made him even more riled up.

“No, Dee, I’ve had enough of watching these moronic teachers pick on Remus. You claim that he’s failing school but you keep him out of discussions and refuse to be decent educators!” He roared and ripped his arm away to point an accusatory finger at the teacher.

A stir started up among the students as they whispered among themselves, questioning and wondering about the claims Virgil was making. They looked to their own children, concerned whether or not Remus was the only one being mistreated by the faculty. Mr. Ruiz watched from the front as his classroom began to become distraught and flushed red in anger.

“Mr. Black!” Mr. Ruiz hollered, “Now is not the time for a family friend to file in complaints. Instead of pointing fingers you should focus on finding him someone who can raise him properly.”

The classroom quieted down at the loud outburst and blatant insult towards not just Virgil, but also at Dexter, who had spent the past ten years raising Remus. Virgil knew that he did every possible thing he could to support him while taking care of ten other children, the nights that were wasted away, the days he couldn’t leave the house, the countless hours that went without getting a break. No one had ever tried harder than Dexter, so Virgil knows that that comment hit deeper for him.

“I wouldn’t say another word if I were you,” Dexter warned in a dangerously low voice, his eyes filled with a near murderous glint as he slowly rose from his chair. “Yes, yelling in class on parents' day is not okay, but neither is degrading a child in front of his caregivers and other parents on the day you as a teacher are supposed to show to us that our children are in capable hands while we’re away at work. I have half a mind to sue the school for the discriminatory treatment he receives here.”

Mr. Ruiz stared flabbergasted with his mouth hung open, as did the rest of the entire classroom, the teachers and the students included. Not missing a beat, Dexter moved to Remus and gathered his things and pulled him out of his seat by the hand. Virgil followed suit and went to Roman, chasing after them as the caregiver practically charged for the door. “Have a good life, Mr. Ruiz. We’re leaving.”

Class ended for the day, ending early at noon for the working parents, but the four of them had long since been gone. After the miniature showdown in the geography classroom, Dexter has gone and signed out Roman and Remus for the rest of the day and scheduled a time to meet with the principal. Virgil stood a few steps behind the fuming man, the boys’ hand in his, letting him have his space to calm down. 

While he had been the one to make the first move and yell at the teacher, Dexter ended up becoming even more livid than he did. He felt partially responsible and almost guilty about what had happened, but he reminded himself that he had done it for Remus’s sake and wasn’t completely in the wrong.

In the end, they decided to treat the boys to some ice cream and went to the nearest McDonalds to get a cone and sundaes. Virgil offered to pay since he felt guilty, so Dexter went with the kids while they played in the play place. Of course, the ice cream machine was broken, so he just got everyone McFlurries instead. By the time he finally had everything, the boys were lost in their own little world, while Dexter sat on the sideline lost in thought.

“Sorry, the ice cream machine was broken,” Virgil said as he walked up and set the drinks on the table.

“That’s alright,” Dexter replied, giving him a small, tired smile. “Thank you.”

“It was only, like, three bucks, so-”

“No, not that.” Dexter shook his head, letting out a light chuckle, “For earlier.”

“Why? I made a scene and yelled at the teacher.”

“Yes but you did what I could not, guess it’s a good thing you’re the hot-headed one.”

“Gee, thanks.” Virgil huffed and leaned back in the hard plastic chair, tapping at the table lightly for a thoughtful moment, “I’m glad I am too but have they always been that way with him?”

“Well,” Dexter began but paused when the twins came running over, cheering as they sat and grabbed their flurries, not appearing to care that it wasn’t what they had originally been promised, which is a miracle in its own. “Why don’t we finish this later?” Dexter offered, opening the straw and putting it in the McFlurry for Remus, who had been struggling with the packet.

Virgil nodded and grabbed his drink, turning to Roman to chat with him to get his head going. Today had been primarily focused on Remus, but that didn’t make Roman any less important, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t feel left out. As he prattled on about his favorite Disney princes, which eventually roped Remus in, Virgil smiled at the way he lit up like a Christmas tree and the peasant energy he gave off. It was a mystery how they hadn’t been adopted until now, but with each passing moment, he found himself more and more relieved that they hadn’t been.

You’re not ready to be a parent.

Virgil ignored that thought.

-

When they arrived back at the Stork house Patton had dinner going, while most of the kids sat in the living room playing a game. The others were presumably spread out through the house. Dexter went and offered to take over and let Patton go home early. As his best friend left, he winked at him and whispered “good luck” before he headed outside to leave. Virgil blushed and stuttered but was unable to reply or come up with an excuse before he was out the door.

Both Patton and Logan knew about his conflicted emotions for Dexter and, despite knowing his past, encouraged him to pursue it. Thankfully they didn’t butt in and do anything to force them together, which he was truly grateful for.

The night went on as it usually did whenever he came there after dinner was served the children were allowed three hours of free time spent watching TV and playing games before he and Dexter got them all ready for bed before lights out at ten. Tonight Virgil and Dexter switched roles and he was the one to help the toddlers while the other helped the older kids. He didn’t hate the toddlers, but they were a pain in the ass to get to settle down. At least two of them refused to get changed into their pajamas, and nearly all of them didn’t want to brush their teeth. By the time he got them into bed and, presumably, go to sleep, Dexter was already waiting for him on the couch, finishing with the older kids way before him.

“You could have helped you know.” Virgil chided falling back into the, kinda, soft cushions. They seriously needed a new couch, one not stained and lumpy from ware tear. 

“I thought you could handle it.” He grinned, leaning on his side, resting his head in a palm. His cat-like smile became serious, “I got an email from the school. They offered to suspend the teacher for thirty days, but only if they get a written apology from us.”

“Fucking bullshit if you ask me.” Virgil groaned, throwing his head back he dragged a hand down his face and rubbed at his tired eyes. “Guess they don’t actually give a shit do they?”

“Even if I did threaten them with a lawsuit, they know I’ve always been tight on money and can’t afford an actual lawyer,” Dexter said with a grimace.

“Havey they always been such dickwads?”

“Careful with the language, the kids, and pretty much yeah. It was fine at first, but then Remus began to show signs of an undiagnosed child development disorder that’s thus far gone untreated. Because of that, not only the kids but the teachers as well, treat him horribly. And since he isn’t diagnosed, I can’t switch him to the special ed classes where he could potentially get better care.”

“You haven’t taken him to a doctor?”

“Believe me, I wish I could,” Dexter sighed, eyes tired. Suddenly he looked as if he had aged ten years, the weight and worry giving his stress lines beyond his age. “But I just don’t have the funds. I’m basically a single father with ten kids. Roman accepts his brother as he is, and that’s already more than I can ask for. I just wish I could make it easier for him.”

He went quiet, shifting to sit forward and lean over, elbows on his knees and hands in his hair. It was hard to see in the dim light, but Virgil noticed a few gray hairs peeking out from where his head was usually covered by those hats he liked to wear. Virgil frowned and looked out the window at the night sky, which was more visible with the new moon. All around there were stars, and most all of them shone white and were small, but there where a few that stood out. Ones that were large, twinkled a little more or shined other colors like blue or red. They stood out and were different, yet they were the most beautiful of all. 

It was a common woe of a parent to have a child that stood out, naturally, they wanted to make their life as free sailing as possible. And sometimes being just like everyone else is what is easy, it’s what’s considered normal, while diversity is often difficult, but that is what makes it so beautiful. Over the past couple of months, he had come to know Remus as the quirky boy he was and he had come to love him because of it, both he and his brother. They were the kindest and friendliest kids he had ever met, and if their school refused to see that, then they didn’t deserve to have them as students.

“There’s a school not too far from my place, they could go there next year.” Virgil offered, voice barely above a whisper.

Dexter raised his head and gave him an incredulous look, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“But that’s on the other side of the city. I’m not sure if they would be able to make it to school on time each day.” Dexter told him.

“Then they could move in with me. I live just down the road.” Virgil said, trailing off and growing quieter with each word as his insecurity and doubt began to rise up. 

What am I doing?! Shut up! This is too much commitment! His anxiety screamed at him like an unhelpful, angry track coach. Virgil tensed up slightly in his shoulders as his body began to lightly shake. However, before he spiraled, Virgil centered himself and breathed in and out deeply and tried to change his thoughts. 

You’re not ready. Yes, I am. You’ll be a horrible father. No, I won’t. You don’t know the first thing about parenting. I can do research online and at the library. They won’t want you as their father. I don’t know that. You can’t. I can.

“I want to adopt them. I’m ready.” Virgil said, more to himself than to Dexter.

Dexter beside him smiled and nodded his head, his lips visibly trembling as his eyes became water and tears filled the corners of his eyes. So many emotions passed over his face within a short moment; happiness, relief, pride, surprise, and joy to name a few. It was as if a ten-year-long wish had finally been granted, and it most likely had.

“Thank you.” Dexter muttered voice choked up before he cleared his throat, “I’m glad to hear that and proud that they’re going with someone like you, but I’m afraid it may not be possible.”

Now it was Virgil turn to feel an array of sudden emotions, mostly confusion and hurt.

“What? Wait, why?”

“Well, as you said before, you are not financially fit to care for two children. If you were to apply for adoption it’s likely you’d be rejected.”

“So what? After all this your telling me I can’t adopt the boys?” Virgil nearly shouted the previous calming and celebratory atmosphere went now that he was pissed. Dexter, however, just smiled.

“Let me finish.” He chuckled, making Virgil frown deeper, “There is an option to have a cosigner apply with you to help you care for them and pay the fees. If you have someone sign the adoption papers with you and help pay the deposit, you should be allowed to adopt them pretty easily.” He explained, leaning back into the couch slowly, turning his body towards him again.

“I’ve raised Roman and Remus since they were two years old, they are as much my sons as anyone else’s. I’d like it to remain that way.”

Virgil thought for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant, and then blushed when it finally hit him. He swiftly became aware of how close their bodies had become and the soft, alluring, look on Dexter’s face that threatened to give him a heart attack.  All his anger from the moment before had been utterly replaced with nervousness.

“Is-Is this some kind of marriage proposal or something?” The librarian asked,

“What?! Of course not, I mean I like you but that’s a bit too fast.” The caregiver said in a rush, his face and ears reddening as well.

“Okay good! Yeah sorry, I just got freaked out there. Thank god!” Virgil breathed out in relief, sinking down in his seat, a hand over his beating chest.

“Do you not want to get married? Like… ever?” Dexter inquired, looking a little worried.

“No! I mean… kinda? I don’t know, relationships have never been my forte.” 

Dexter watched him carefully for a moment, and then asked, “Was is someone specific?”

Virgil bit his tongue and sunk a little lower in his seat. It wasn’t something he liked to revisit or tell others. To him, it was his single greatest failure of his life and his biggest regret. He had wished endless time that he could’ve gone back in time and done it all different back then. Part of his felt like he’d never move past it, but maybe this could be his starting point. He liked Dexter, he really did, but his fear from his past was holding him back from doing anything about it. Perhaps telling him would help.

Another few moments passed, Dexter waited beside him patiently, not rushing or pressuring him. With a deep breath, he opened his mouth.

“Well, I’ve always been awkward in relationships, especially when they became intimate. But, back when I was in college I dated this guy named Matthew. He was amazing, sweet, and pretty much my best friend. In truth, it was the only time I’ve ever been in love. After three years, he popped the question and I-, I wasn’t sure. I told him that I needed a little time to think and focus on my final year of college. Matthew promised he would wait, ‘Until the end of time,’ he said. Three months passed and I had my degree and my answer. But when I went back to him, he had moved on with someone else.”

Virgil swallowed the lump clogging his throat and heaved a shaky breath. Dexter put a comforting arm around his shoulders, Virgil leaned into him gratefully, sighing as the other rubbed his shoulder in reassurance.

“I’ve tried so hard to recreate what I had with him with other guys, but all I could think about was how I wasn’t enough for Matthew. That I had kept him waiting too long, and that I wasn’t enough to wait for.”

“Bullshit.”

“Huh?” Virgil spluttered in shock, leaning away to look up at him in confusion.

“Bull. Shit.” Dexter repeated, firmer and more intensely, “You’re more than enough. That asshole said he’d wait forever and couldn’t even handle three months, that dick didn’t deserve you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Virgil mumbled, turning his head down.

“Virgil.” Dexter said softly in a firm tone, gently pulling up his face with his hands, “You are the most amazing person I’ve known. You’re honest and diligent, caring yet stern, intelligent and brave. What more can I need to know I want you, and to raise the boys with you?”

“A thirty-year-old that doesn’t look like a depressed teen emo?” Virgil said half-jokingly, 

“You make it work.”

The pale yellow-orange light from the table lamp shined as they only source in the room, highlighting Dexter’s face in a soft glow. He couldn’t help but gaze up at his warm caramel eyes in awe. Carefully he reached up and placed a hand against his cheek and rubbed the scar under his left eye tenderly. Dexter placed one hand over his, and with the other he brushed away the long bangs that had fallen in front of Virgil’s eyes, letting it rest on his cheek as well. There were barely two inches of space between them, yet Dexter didn’t make a move like he did last time. Virgil knew that he was letting him make the call this time if he wanted it or not.

Virgil decided that he did.

Slowly, and a little awkwardly, Virgil pulled them closer until no space was left, and pressed their lips together. It was soft and careful, not rushed or hard, they took their time and savored every moment. Dexter’s lips were slightly chapped, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, his own breath probably smells bad anyway. Dexter quickly took over the kiss and Virgil let him, leaning him until their chests were practically pressed against each other. After a few minutes, they parted to breathe, both gasping and out of breath, and Virgil laid against him with a happy sigh, resting his head under Dexter’s chin in the cuff of his neck.

They laid there together for the next hour, content to simply sit with each other, no words needed. All the while Virgil found himself in wonder that this was his life now. Six months he relinquished himself to live the rest of his life alone, he still couldn’t believe how far he had come. He was with the man who made him happy, about to become a father to two wonderful boys.

He couldn’t wait to tell them the news.

-

The very next day Virgil requested the day off from work to fill out the paperwork and applications with Dexter, which ended taking up a good couple of hours. While they were busy in the office, Patton offered to watch over the kids, since it was a Saturday and he had no school to teach. 

When they had told Patton the news that both of them were going to adopt the twins the friendly elementary school teacher had literally fainted. Virgil freaked out, thinking they had accidentally killed him, while Dexter simply helped the fallen man up and onto the couch in the front room. Patton woke up a minute later and instantly cheered them on, playing it off as if hadn’t just blacked out.

“I’m so happy for you! Both of you!” Patton beamed brightly, pulling Virgil into a tight hug, and Virgil returned the hug just the same, “I knew you could do it.” He whispered in his ear, squeezing his shoulder.

Two hours later, as they discussed living arrangements for the boys, since neither of them wanted to live in the shelter anymore but knew that Virgil’s condo wasn’t the most ideal place to raise them, Logan busted in through the door and charged into the office, currently on his lunch break. Apparently Patton hadn’t been able to keep the big surprise a secret for more than a few hours. Virgil wasn’t surprised though, those two couldn’t keep anything from each other. 

“So you finally took our advice.” He said.

“You better not say ‘I told you so’.” Virgil deadpanned at his oldest friend, knowing full well how blunt and forward his best friend could be.

“Fine then, I'm glad you finally heeded my words.”

“Seriously, Lo? Can’t you be-”

Out of nowhere, absolutely out of the blue, Virgil was pulled into a hug, which was completely out of character for Logan to do with anyone who was not immediate family or his boyfriend.

“I’m glad you’re happy again,” Logan told him, sounding honest and thankful.

Logan was Virgil’s oldest friend and had been with him in the thick of his break up with Matthew. He had watched him struggle ever since, tried to help, and was always there. This was a victory for him as much as it was for Virgil.

“Yeah, me too.” Virgil agreed, returning the hug.

Soon after, Logan had to return to work once his one hour lunch ended. Virgil and Dexter returned to the task at hand until they were finished. Since Dexter was one of the applicants, they had to send it to a third party so it would remain impartial and fair. This worried Virgil a little, but Dexter remain confident that it would go well.

“So they boys will be sharing a room, which used to be your office, so we’ll have to clean that out before they can move in. Arrangements with the new school will have to be made. And,”

“And I’ll schedule an appointment for Remus.”

“Are you sure? It can be expensive.” Dexter asked, looking up from his opened notes on his computer desktop.

“I have medical insurance, besides, I want him to get the help he needs.” Virgil affirmed.

He knew personally how important getting help can be, especially as a child. He wished his parents hadn’t waited until his last year of high school to get him therapy for his anxiety disorder, life would have been easier if they had. So Virgil wanted to be different.

“Alright, then that just leaves custody and visitation since we’ll be living in different houses,” Dexter announced, typing away at his keyboard, his hyper-focused face looked adorable as it always did.

“Obviously we’ll have it be open,” Virgil said matter-of-factly,

Dexter smiled and typed at his keyboard, “It would be nice to live together one day though.” He said nonchalantly as if it had been an afterthought. Virgil choked on his spit and immediately sat up straight from his previously relaxed position, blushing furiously. Dexter laughed and waved a forgiving hand him,  “Not now of course.”

“Right,” He breathed shakily, laughing it off unconvincingly. His heart raced in his chest still from the sudden scare, not appearing to want to calm down anytime soon.

Dexter went back to typing on his computer, listing off things they would have to take care of and things they would need to buy before the boys could move out of the agency house. Virgil watched him, albeit a bit bashfully, making small comments to his statements. They were so different from each other, and, to be honest, he wasn’t the type of man Virgil would usually pursue. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he didn’t think anything could come out of them in a romantic sense. Yet, he had been entranced and pulled in by him, almost as if he were put under a spell. Everything he did was enthralling, from the simple sight of him cooking in the kitchen, to the entertaining banter they would engage in. They had known each other for only half a year, but he could already imagine a world where he was in it every day.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” He murmured under his breath, a small smile falling on his lips.

It was a month until they had heard anything back from the social workers at the third-party agency. Usually, it would take a lot longer, but Dexter was able to pull a few strings to speed up the process because of some people he knew in the field. So when the notice came in that June, both of them opened it slowly with haste. 

It had gone through and they had been accepted. There was a three week waiting period, but neither of them could bother themselves enough to care at that moment. Once he found out, Virgil called both Patton and Logan and told them the good news and they all celebrated together. After that, the only step left was to tell the boys.

“Roman, Remus could you come here for a moment?” Dexter called from the back porch, as the kids were all currently caught up in a game of freeze tag.

“I swear, the toilet paper was Remus’s idea!” Roman shouted, pausing in his pursuit as a tagger, holding his hands above his head as if he had been caught redhanded in a crime.

“No not that- wait what toilet paper?”

“We’ll come back to that later. Can you two just come here for a second?” Virgil spoke up, waving the boys inside.

Roman followed the direction and walked toward the backdoor into the house, his head held down slightly in guilt. Remus chased after him and came bouncing into the living room. Once they were both in, Dexter closed the backdoor and sat them down, the young boys sat in between the adults.

“Now, Virgil and I have some news for you that we’re very excited about,” Dexter said.

“You’re pregnant!” Remus said excitedly.

“What? No! Remus that’s not biologically possible.” Virgil told him,

“But I’ve read stories online where it happened.”

“We’re going to talk about what you’ve been reading, but not now. What we wanted to say was,” Dexter cut in again, a lecturing look on his face, but got interrupted again.

“We’re getting a dog?!” Roman cheered out a guess, eyes bright with hope.

“Nope, I’m adopting you!” Virgil said, saying it quickly to avoid anymore stalling or excited shouts from the boys. Dexter coughed a little and waved at him, clearly not happy that he had been left out of that statement. “Well, we’re adopting you. Our application was accepted, so we’re officially your parents.”

The boys were both quiet for a long while, staring at them in shock and disbelief. They looked between them and at each other, seeming to share the same thoughts as each other. Slowly the broke away from their silence, as Roman began to tear up and cry, and Remus beamed a wide grin and cheered while bouncing up and down on the couch.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this…” Roman sobbed, rubbing away the tears as they fell and sniffling as his nose became clogged. Virgil pulled him into an embrace, rubbing a hand through his hair, while Roman clutched onto his shirt and cried and laughed.

“Does that mean I get to call you snake-dad and raccoon-dad now?” Remus asked, breaking from his jumping, landing in Dexter’s lap, to look up at them in joy and wonder.

“Of course bud,” Virgil told him, “Of course,”

.

.

Taglist: @omikkydraws @stormypaint @strickenwithclairvoyance @lolanomsgranola @hunter-shyreen @venus-fuck

[clairebear1298]

Hey look, it only took about a year this time to get anything written. I think I’m improving. And naturally, I chose Mother’s Day to publish a story primarily about fatherhood. What can ya do.

Story is also available here on FFN. Hope this was worth the wait.

“I think that some of these stories adult Sheldon is telling us through young Sheldon are reflections on ‘now that I have my own children, maybe I’m seeing that world through my dad’s eyes more clearly than I had.’ Those thoughts had been on my mind for awhile.”

-Steve Molaro, TV Guide

Three paces to the left. Turn. Three paces to the right. Turn. Repeat. And repeat, and repeat, and repeat, like the regimented ticks of the clock before it predictably strikes the hour.

He had promised Amy he would talk to him, and Sheldon Cooper never broke a promise. He wasn’t scared. Why on earth would he be, of someone a fifth his age and nearly two feet shorter than him? No, he simply wanted to be sure he handled this with… precision. Considerate but firm, generous but fair, yet still stealthy enough to get what he wanted in the end. Like Batman. Yes, exactly. Now he just had to put himself in the shoes of the greatest detective on earth to figure out just how to get this child to see things his way and then-

“Dad, just come in already. I can hear you thinking from in here.”

So much for being stealthy.

With a trepidation he could literally feel in his old, deteriorating bones (he was now over fifty, for goodness’ sake), Sheldon pushed the door open to find his son in the same position he always did, sprawled across his bed and scribbling furiously away in his notebook. Sometimes it was a story, other times a drawing, occasionally even a few lines of music. Not once, however, has it been an equation.

“Um, hi Matthew.” Swallowing hard, Sheldon scanned the room for a place to sit, but there was hardly a patch of a surface that wasn’t covered in books or loose sheets of paper. He remained in the doorway. “Do you think we could talk about what happened downstairs?”

Matthew sighed, but obediently closed his notebook and sat up to face his father. “I’m sorry for getting upset.”

Sheldon blinked. While true that Matthew had always been the sweetest, most agreeable of all his children, even this quick of an acquiescence was unexpected to say the least. Especially considering the subject of his son’s earlier blowup.

“Oh.” Sheldon stepped fully into the room and began to dig through the small mountain on Matthew’s desk chair, methodically organizing the papers by size, type, and date as he went. “Well, thank you. That’s very mature of you.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m changing my mind.”

Spoke too soon. Honestly, what kind of eleven-year-old was this uncompromising and stubborn?

Finally reaching his goal, Sheldon sat himself down on what felt like solid gold after all that pacing but was actually cheap, Target-bought plastic. His knees were practically level with his chin, but still he turned with the pride of a king to stare at his subject from across the bedroom. Matthew gazed resolutely back with large blue eyes just like his own, but that was where the resemblances stopped. Be it physically, with his cherubic gold curls and small stature, or personally, with his natural people skills, father and son could not be more different. If anything Matthew took after his mother- so much kindness and patience with just a hint of that headstrong spunk- but even between them there were some key differences. Most notably, their interests.

“Look, you’re still young,” Sheldon said, though even as he spoke the words tasted flat in his mouth. “I may have discovered my calling at an early age, but you can take as much time as you need to explore which branch of science will best suit you.”

“But I have decided,” Matthew protested. “Psychology.”

Sheldon couldn’t help but scoff. “Psychology doesn’t count. It’s just the humanities disguised as science.”

“Dr. Hofstadter is a psychiatrist,” Matthew pointed out.

“Yes, but she’s also a reputable neuroscientist, like your mother.” Then a thought occurred to him. “Maybe you can visit the lab with your mom and see the day-to-day life of a biologist.” It was no physics, but at this point Sheldon would take what he could get.

But Matthew shook his head, turning away. “I don’t want to experiment on animals or slice up human brains for science. I want to help people.”

“But science does help people, Matthew,” Sheldon argued. “It advances our understanding of the world so that-“

“I know, I know, you probably rocked me to sleep with that line when I was a baby,” said Matthew, still not looking at his father. “But I don’t want to be holed up in an office or a lab by myself. I like talking to people, helping them at a personal level. Not through some published paper that most of them won’t read, anyway.”

“But don’t you want to do something that impacts the whole world?” Sheldon asked. “Going into therapy might help a handful of people at best, but with the hard sciences you could make discoveries that help everyone. Those odds are much better, don’t you think?”

“You just don’t get it…” Matthew trailed off, then released a hard sigh and folded his legs into his body. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m not smart enough to by a physicist, anyway.”

That one sentence felt like a stab to Sheldon’s heart. No child of his was ever allowed to be stupid.

“That’s not true,” he said, a tad more harsh than he’d intended. “I know you’ve been struggling with math and science this year, but I could tutor you after dinner every night to get your grades back up.”

“I really don’t think that’ll help-“

“Clearly the American public school system has been failing you. I knew we should’ve gone private, if only your mother had listened-“

“Dad, you just need to give it up-“

“No!” Sheldon shot to his feet, scattering papers as he went. “You are my son, and you will not be a disappointment to me.”

The words seemed to suspend and permeate the air between them, slowly edging out the oxygen until Sheldon thought he would suffocate. Matthew didn’t look much better, going white as a ghost and staring back at his father with wide, frightened eyes. Then little by little his face began to crumble, and his eyes began to well up, until he finally collapsed fully into tears.

Sheldon had been wrong. This was what a stab to the heart felt like.

“No. No, no, no, no, no,” Sheldon chanted, crossing the room to his son. “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t cry.”

But cry he did, and without a second thought Sheldon sat on the bed and pulled Matthew into his arms. The boy clung to him and soaked his father’s shirt with his tears, but Sheldon didn't mind. Well, he did mind, but that wasn’t what mattered just then. Though Sheldon had never been a cuddler- even with Amy those times were few and far between- ever since he was a baby nothing soothed Matthew more than being held by his mother or father.

Sheldon waited until Matthew’s sobs settled into the occasional hiccup before bracing himself for the thing he hated most doing, and always would.

“I’m sorry, Matthew. I was wrong.”

“No, you weren’t,” Matthew said with a sniffle. “You and Mom are world famous Nobel winners, and no matter how hard I try I’ll never live up to that. Jane will, and maybe Laurie, but I won’t. I’ll always be the idiot black sheep of the family.”

Sheldon swallowed hard. He might have little to nothing in common with his son, but feeling like an outsider in your own family was certainly something he could understand.

“Listen to me.” Sheldon pulled away enough so he could look Matthew straight in the eye. “You’re not stupid. You’re not an idiot. You’re intelligent in ways I can never dream of.”

“Like what?” Matthew asked, timid but with the barest hint of hope in those blue eyes.

Sheldon hesitated. Not because he couldn’t think of anything, not even close, but he knew that saying them would be waving the white flag. By telling Matthew where his talents truly lay, he would be forced to admit that his own offspring, his eldest child and only son, would never follow in his own footsteps.

An image flashed through his head of a man with kind eyes and a warm smile, nodding along as his child prattled on about Aristotle and the science behind thunderstorms. It was a look that nine-year-old Sheldon wouldn’t have recognized, but fifty-one-year-old Sheldon certainly did. It was the same look Amy would give when one of the kids went on about nothing, or explained in vivid detail something she knew better than they did. That look of playing dumb that on Sheldon would look simply condescending, but on his wife the love would always shine through. Maybe that’s what his father used to do for him.

Sheldon felt a sudden new set to his shoulders. If his father could encourage his son to pursue something he himself had no interest in, let the child chase his dreams while putting his own aside, then so could he.

“You’re creative,” Sheldon began. “I could never begin to write or draw the way you do. I think that might be why I love comics and movies and shows so much. It’s something I could never do myself, but I can still admire the work of a genius in any form.”

For the first time since entering the room Matthew genuinely smiled, spurring Sheldon onward. “And you have academic intelligence, too. You’re a fifth grader who reads better than most high schoolers, and no one knows history like you do.”

Sheldon reached over to brush Matthew’s wild blond hair out of his face, never tearing his gaze from those vibrant blue eyes. “But most of all, you have emotional intelligence. More than anyone else I know. You can always tell when Laurie’s upset about something, or just how to get Jane out of her shell to have some fun. You’re a great kid, a fantastic older brother, and the best son I could ever ask for. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Least of all me. But Sheldon swallowed back that moment of guilt and self-pity and kept the attention on his son. It’s what his father would have done.

Matthew’s smile had widened to a full-on grin, and he launched himself back into their embrace. “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

Sheldon felt a sudden lump come to his throat, but he fought through it as he laid his head against his boy’s hair. “I love you, too.”

They spent a few more moments holding each other before Sheldon decided that was about as much sentimentality as he could take. As they broke apart, Sheldon reached over to grab one of the papers on Matthew’s desk. Maybe he could give this whole ‘playing dumb’ thing a try. “Now, this story you’ve been working on. When the Martians invade the pizza planet and gorge themselves to death, is that meant to be humorous or a social commentary on dietary consumerism?”

Close enough.

[demyrie]

On Synchronicities, or 'Winks from the Universe'

Hello from semi-hiatus! Things have been intense lately, very up and down and faith and despair and AAAAAA, so I wanted to go woo again and talk about synchronicities, or “winks”.

I call them winks because that's what it feels like -- remember when you were in a guessing game or a mystery, and you tentatively said something and got a wink in response? Remember that jolt of excitement, or celebration, or confidence like YES I WAS RIGHT? At least in USA culture, a wink means keep going, yes, you're getting it.

Turns out, the universe can wink at you, too!

The universe works on harmony or disharmony, frequencies or vibrations, in which our frame of mind plays a huge part, and often produces “synchronicities” -- the seemingly random or unlikely coincidences that catch your attention. When you align with your highest path, other things around you will align to show you: yes, this is it! You're getting it! You're in the swing of things, you're dancing to your own tune!

Winks are different for everyone. Me, it's numbers, which uhhhh makes sense with my profession, but the whole world is a canvas for synchronicities to show up on. Some people see certain animals more often whenever they're “dancing in tune”, and I know I always feel a warm hand over my heart when I see a squirrel doing something cute -- one of the advantages of having a very, very common spirit guide! But that's just … nice. Winks are discrete and joyous reminders to be in the moment and TRUST, and though I'm not much into strict numerology, they mostly appear to me in numbers.

For example: Whenever I'm counting medication and I pour a perfect amount, I always make a point to remember what I was thinking about when I poured. Have you ever had to count 63 tablets, and got EXACTLY that weird number with two shakes of the bottle? Trust me, it feels good. It felt good to the universe, too, and you're sharing a moment of perfect timing, belonging and allowing. You didn't shake too much. You didn't double guess yourself.

You just did, and it was perfect.

Winks say, go with your instincts. Winks say, trust yourself, keep going, good job. Winks say, this is how it is. You can have this.

This morning, I was on my way to a work location that was a) very far away and b) I’d had a stressful experience at last time and c) my cars engine had been acting a little funny, so it was not a calm voyage. I was worried. I was worried about my shift, my car, and deeply, especially worried about my books. It was one of those days where you step back and look at this thing you've poured so much time and love and WANT into, and pick it up by the ears and ask “is this trash?”

It's not a productive kind of worry. It's gross and sad and debilitating and an exorcism of deeper fears of worth -- because if I make trash, what does that make me?

So, even though I almost talked myself out of it, I stopped into Wawa for some food before my shift (because I'm an hour early, because anxiety).

(TW: eating disordered thinking)

I'm a mess in my head, so naturally I'm a mess in the Wawa too. I'm grabbing things left and right, mostly sweets, but when I get to the counter and see some mostly-healthy (or at least FILLING) breakfast sandwiches, I have a burst of regret.

Should I get one? Was it too much? Ah, FUCK, should I put everything back because I don't deserve any of it?? Maybe I don't deserve breakfast, maybe I'll just keep myself in line until lunch.

It's easy to see how my thoughts spiralled into what I was really feeling, projecting like this into a goddamn gas station sandwich, but I grab one.

Fuck it, I'm an adult and I have money and I need to eat, I thought, and when the cashier rang up my sporadic collection of anxiety sweets and borderline breakfast, the total was $11.11.

I instantly smiled. It was a stupid, happy, sheepish smile, and my shoulders dropped. It was a wink from the universe, or in this case a nudge.

The message wasn't: “buy sandwiches forever and you will never struggle with your self-worth and purpose!”.

It was this: “Shhh. Eat. Take care of yourself. The thoughts that led you to get the sandwich -- in PERFECT combination with every other random thing you grabbed -- are correct. Even these little wild decisions are correct, no matter how lost you may feel. You are deserving. Also eat the goddamn sandwich.”

Now, just an hour or two ago, when I was teaching a tech how to do data entry, I looked up and it was 11:11am. I love teaching and I love helping others. It's definitely part of my path. I smiled again, and plunged forward into my day with enthusiasm and love, knowing I was supported.

It's amazing how just that mindset can change the way your whole day progresses! Trust is a hell of a thing.

It's even funnier when you start to share wink languages with people. My starmate was having a heated text conversation with me re: creativity. When she boiled over and came to the conclusion of “I think we just need to DO US, you know??”, the timestamp was exactly 4:44 -- a number of completion, stability and home. When I alerted her to it, she flipped, but not in the good way. She's been getting nudges and winks like this so long it sometimes feels like a smug or even nagging mother and she poured out an alphabet soup of frustration, like I KNOW OK?? AAAA!

Being magnificently and fearlessly yourself is easier said than done, sometimes. “OKAY, universe!” is a common phrase of ours, as bratty as we possibly can make it :) with love in our hearts of course! Sometimes there's a bit of freedom and humor to be found in playing up our roles as children in this big old sandbox, and whining is totally accepted… as long as you plan to pony up in the end.

In that vein, I had one or two nights where the energy was VERY high and I would wake up at every synchronicity on the dot: 3:33am, 4:44am, and was very tired and grumpy as a result even as I knew the universe was pulling out all the stops to pat me on the back. I'm just a human, this is great and intense and magical and all but I. Need. Sleep!! (Pearls before swine, clearly…)

Another time, I was having another crisis of faith regarding family, and love that doesn't come easily to me. There wasn't any particular trigger, but I was angsting vaguely and even worrying about secretly being a sociopath -- and then I got a customer with a birthday of 11/11, and their change? $4.44!

Obviously I get certain numbers more than others, but the message is always the same: You're doing great sweetie.gif!

You're doing what you're supposed to be doing. It's okay. You're okay. Keep your chin up. Breathe. Allow.

Winking can be a comfort, a reminder that you are loved and supported in all things -- especially feeling your feelings as they are, not as they should be.

So, winks are cool. Once you find your wink language, catching one is like a burst of pure energy: a ringing endorsement from Your Biggest Fan, the Universe 💕🌠

The one thing I would caution with winks, however, is not to look for them.

I know it's difficult, but it literally defies the premise: stressing about being perfect immediately breaks your perfection, like sports players who get the “yips”. The little miracle is you looking up at the clock at EXACTLY that time, because you were meant to, because your perfection is too much to go uncommented on. NOT getting winks doesn't mean you're doing poorly, but those of us with negative mindsets may suffer from what is essentially just another thing to miss out on. Which, again, mindsets and expectations.

Sometimes I'll catch a 3:34 and feel disappointed, and that's just silly. It's not about math. It's about the moment, and there are thousands of moments in any given day. Just do you. Just rock, and hope, and reach for the things that make you glow inside.

It's a cherry on top. Sprinkles. A high five. The more and more you fall into your own perfect stride -- that isn't so much flawless as it is PERSONAL, purely you in a way no one else can manage and a little piece of what you came here to Do -- the more the universe will wink at you, celebrate with you, and urge you on.

I hope you can move just a little further into believing in yourself and your path today, even if it's just buying the goddamn sandwich. Remember, you are deserving. You're doing just fine.

😉

[jaywrites101]

The City In FreeFall: Chapter Four

This is part of my ongoing Beta for my new book The City In FreeFall, slated to be released sometime early in 2020. New chapters are released here and on AO3. Special shout out to my StreetTeam members: @ciestess and @leave-her-a-tome for their advanced reading and suggestions.  On to the story! Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Beaten, bruised, and broken. Oh yeah, today was going exactly according to plan… 

I made it through the front door of our apartment and immediately stumbled towards my bed. The alarm clock next to the bed read 1:48 in bright, red numerals. I wasn't failing Math, so I did a few mental calculations. I had to be at the warehouse by 8:30, which meant I'd have to leave the house by 7:00 at the latest. That left five hours to sleep and set the third part of my plan in motion.

The agonizing pain in my lungs reminded me that five hours wasn't nearly enough time to recuperate. Stupid lungs. They should know better than that by now.

As I approached the bed, everything went dark. I could vaguely feel myself collapsing, in a numb, underwater sense. I was well past my breaking point, but this was different. My mind was still running at top speed, even though my body was failing. Last time I blacked out, it happened too quickly for me to process what was happening. This time I was aware enough to be afraid of it. 

I woke up tied to a chair. On top of our apartment. Leaning over the precipice.

I panicked! The sight of the street below filled me with adrenaline. I threw myself against the straps, completely disregarding my previous injuries. But an orange, scaled hand stopped me from leaning forward.

I thought he was a myth! But that hand was real. The sun setting behind him burned right in my eyes! He pushed my chair further and further back despite my protests. My heart was trying to beat itself out of my chest. Wind tousled my hair while I screamed. Once again, I couldn’t stop myself from looking down. The ground was so far away, the pedestrians below were like ants on a picnic table. My eyes were glued to the asphalt twenty stories straight down.

With a herculean effort, I forced myself to look back at the thing in front of me. Burnished orange scales broke up his silhouette. Humanoid, but not human. His head--Oh God! There was nothing human about that head. Bulged over with a massive lower jaw. And at the top. Two glowing crimson eyes. It was like staring into the depths of Hell and seeing that Hell was staring back!

Movement behind him drew my attention to his tail. It twitched aggressively. "What do you know about Warehouse 15!" he growled. His voice! Even now, sitting alone in my cell, I shiver just remembering it. It was a low growl, impossibly loud! It was the voice of a dragon.

This was DinoHyde.

"Don't kill me!" I pleaded.

"Wrong answer!" he roared in return. With one hand--one--he pushed the chair all the way over the edge. I thought for sure I was about to fall. But the monstrosity still had hold of the back of the chair. Even as all four of the legs swung out into space, that grip held the chair in place. The straps cut into me. Slicing my already bruised body with every shudder.

"Y-you won't kill me--You can't kill me! DinoHyde n-never kills people." At this point, I was pleading more to myself than to him. He pulled me up, just enough to force me closer to those wicked eyes.

"What do you think happens to those people who mysteriously disappear in this city?"

"They were killed by the gangs?"

DinoHyde didn't answer. He didn't need to. I'd heard the tales in the Heap. We all did. Stories that a wild dinosaur was cloned in a lab and exposed to human DNA. No one really believes it. We all grew up just outside that lawless age where vigilantes took up arms to keep the peace. Most of us just assumed DinoHyde was just another vigilante dressed up in a spandex suit. 

Those scales seemed real to me. Somehow, those eyes bored themselves into my skull and pulled out my greatest fear from the deepest recesses. Tears burned their way out of my eyes. Even my mantra was forgotten.

"What do you know about Warehouse 15!" he asked again.

"I-I don't know anything about Warehouse 15," I cried, expecting to fall at any second. "It's just an abandoned Barron Corp storage site. I needed to find a place the SmashStones and the BloodBlades could go wild without getting anyone else hurt! That's it, I swear!"

DinoHyde seemed taken aback. He blinked his eyes a couple of times, at any rate. "You're not working for Lawson?"

"Who?" The name struck a chord with me, but I couldn't place it. I certainly wasn't working for him, whoever he was.

DinoHyde seemed to sense the truth. More confirmation of his supernatural powers. "It's not important," he said. He paused for a minute, his head cocked unnaturally. 

A breeze blew around me. For a moment, I actually thought he was going to drop me. But the moment passed and DinoHyde swung me around back onto the roof. I was stuck facing away from the mutant vigilante. 

I craned my neck so hard I swear something popped, but I still didn't get a good look at him--he just stepped into my blindspot no matter what I did. "You should be in school, kid," he said. His voice was still gravely, but much less harsh. He still didn't know what to make of me.

"I'm not going to school anymore. I'm not going ever again," I returned stubbornly. God, I was such a prick.

"You don't know what you're playing at."

"How can you say that? We're on the same side!"

DinoHyde growled. "You're not on anyone's side, kid!" His voice returned to that deep reverberating tone that scared me so much. "You've made enemies of everyone in the city what with the stupid stunts you just pulled! Stealing a cop car, joining the SmashStones, marching right on up into the BloodBlades stronghold--it's a wonder you haven't killed yourself already!"

At the mention of my heroic deeds, my injuries started throbbing again. In addition to the busted ribs and the hole in my chest, I also had bruises on my back that stung like acid, a tender, itchy line across my throat, a cramp in my left leg, and a collection of cuts on my arms and shoulders. "I guess I just don't have the talent for dying."

DinoHyde smacked at the back of my head lightly. My vision doubled as my eyes crossed from the pain. Add one concussion. Lovely.

"Give it up, brat. You don't have what it takes to make it in this line of work."

"Screw you!" I spat indignantly. "You know, i-if you were out protecting people instead of throwing kids off building tops, I wouldn't have to be here, a-and my friend would still be alive!" 

You know, I didn't think I was doing anything particular by bringing the conversation around to Jerry again. It took me by surprise to realize I meant it this time. Seeing the myth right in front of me… Damn… That gave me someone to blame. Someone besides the gangs. After all the lies and half-truths… This was real. And it hurt. Like a bitch.

I bawled for a solid minute. I've never been any good at handling grief. Even now it's easier to just escape into the past and forget the last couple of days… forget what's happening to me.

DinoHyde let me cry. He waited for me to calm down before he said, "I was sorry to hear about Jerry." That was it. No nonsense, or he's in a better place now like all the other adults kept repeating. 

Just, sorry. 

"He was a good kid,” DinoHyde continued. “Smart. Honest. I wish I could've stopped what happened to him."

"THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU!" I shouted. "You're the monster vigilante! You're the one going around playing hero! Why didn't you--or any of the others--protect him!"

I expected him to smack me over the head again, or maybe tell me off for being a brat. I would've deserved either. But instead, DinoHyde just made an odd wheezing noise that I eventually recognized as a sigh. "It happened in the daylight. I can't operate so freely during the day."

"Whatever," I huffed. I wasn't ready to forgive him so easily. "As soon as you let me go I'm going to clean up your mess for good. There won't be any more kids in caskets."

"It's not that easy."

"Well, maybe you just haven't been trying hard enough!"

DinoHyde spun the chair around into the setting sun once more. He towered over me, those red eyes blazing. "Listen to me kid! What you're doing won't work. The gangs aren't just going to kill each other off just because Sam Farsight has a grudge against them. All you're going to do is start a war that'll burn down this whole city."

I dug my toes into my shoes and forced myself to stare anywhere but at his eyes. The building next to us had a park on its roof. Empty, of course. Most buildings locked their roof access at sunset. It was--

"Sunset…"

"What are you going on about now?" DinoHyde asked.

"It's sunset! And none of the buildings near my apartment have a park on them! Where am I? What time is it??"

DinoHyde huffed. "Relax, kid. We're near the docks, and it's only 7:30-ish."

I quickly ran some more mental calculations. "There's still time, but I've got to hurry. Are you going to let me out of this chair?"

"I will. But I won't help you. What you're doing is suicidal. Both Cutter and SmashStone will be pissed. Even I can't take them both on at once."

"That's fine," I snapped. "I didn't want your help anyway."

"This isn't a game, brat!" DinoHyde growled again. (He does that a lot.) "If you go through with this they will kill you. And I won't be there to save you."

"Then I'll die!" There was something in the force of it that gave the vigilante pause. Conviction, plain and simple. I knew the dangers. But that wasn't going to stop me. "At least I'll die knowing it wasn't in vain. Knowing that I made a difference."

"Kid…" DinoHyde began. But he stopped. Making another one of his strange sighs, he reached behind me and unbuckled the straps that bound me. I wasn't going to stay and chat. I was already limping off to the door.

"Kid!" he tried again. "Listen to me--look, there's a better way. A proper way. Just back down from this madness and I'll--"

"I don't want your help! I'm doing this my way. I don't want anything to do with you!" I limped down the steps, all twenty flights of them. DinoHyde didn't follow after me. I don't know what he did after I left. I didn't care. Was I reckless? Yes. Was I stupid? Yes. Do I regret my actions that day? Oh, most definitely. Did I care at the time? Nope… I was convinced I had things figured out. DinoHyde was just one more test of my resolve.