#so when it clocked some MINUTES in which I was trying to swim back with all my force and I didn't get closer to the sand-

[bearinabandana]

@thirteenmyspacegirl

I have no idea hahahahahahaha help

[heavyhitterheaux]

Sink or Swim (NSFW)

AN: Joe girlies I have returned!

Synopsis: After the devastating loss to the Commanders, you knew that a bad mood would be evident with your boyfriend. So his idea of forgetting what happened at least for a few hours has to do with giving you his undivided attention

Requested by @a-moment-captured 💕

DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDERAGE

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

There was a look of disbelief on your face as you watched the scene unfold in front of you and saw that the game was almost over when the two minute warning was indicated. The first two weeks in the season obviously had your boyfriend Joe upset and for good reason. But to see the high hopes that he had going into week three just get shot down hurt to watch.

On the sidelines you could see his helmet being thrown as he eventually sat down and the expression on his face was one that you couldn't quite read.

Pulling out your phone, you sent him a quick text knowing that he would read it when he got back to the locker room.

You- Still so proud of you bubs. You played amazing tonight and don't let anyone tell you otherwise 💕

Sighing to yourself, you stood up and began to make your exit out of the stadium to start making your way back to Joe’s condo. It was discussed earlier in the day when you had talked to Joe that you would come over right after the game in anticipation of celebrating with him, but now you weren't so sure if he would even want to be in the mood to have anyone around him right now. After he lost a game, he would understandably get into a mood but you had a feeling that tonight would be a lot worse and more than likely because of who he is, he would be blaming himself.

Climbing into your jeep, you had the radio on a low volume as you pulled out of the stadium parking lot and onto the highway. Joe didn't live very far from the stadium which you were thankful for and leaving before the game was over allowed you to beat some of the traffic that you knew would quickly come after.

Arriving in less than twenty minutes, you turned your car off before grabbing your bag and making your way inside. Your shoes got slipped off at the door as you made your way into the kitchen to find something to snack on since the mozzarella sticks you had at the game were only going to last you but so long.

Glancing at the clock, you noticed it wasn't too late to order a pizza seeing as Joe probably needed some comfort food. You opened up your DoorDash app and quickly ordered it while you waited for Joe to get there. Another 45 minutes had passed with the pizza being kept warm in the oven and you sitting on the couch re-watching Scandal when you heard his key in the door. Once it was opened, it was quickly slammed shut making you jump and the sound was quickly followed by him throwing his bag on the floor at his feet and hearing him sigh.

Still in your jersey from the game that had your boyfriend's name on the back of it, you got up to greet him by the door. His expression was still unreadable when you stood in front of him and slowly tried to take his hands into yours, but he moved away at the last second.

“Bubs….”

Joe didn’t even bother to respond to you as his eyes were closed and he was leaning back against the door.

“What do you need me to do?” You softly asked as you kissed the side of his mouth, trying to get an answer out of him.

When he finally opened his eyes and glanced down at you, his eyes had softened but only slightly as he saw the love of his life in front of him.

“Get upstairs and strip.”

“Mm, gladly. Your wish is my command.”

Nodding your head towards him, he then turned you around to face the stairs as you slowly walked over towards them. Your foot was on the first step when you heard his voice once more.

“You have two minutes to do what I told you, so I suggest you get a move on before I put you there myself.”

Hearing this made a river form in between your thighs and you loved how dominant he could get when the two of you were by yourselves. That happened to be the only good thing that would come out of him losing a game. If this is what he needed to help him get through it, the last thing that you were ever going to do was complain.

Reaching the last step, you still heard him moving around downstairs before you swung the door open to his bedroom which had been left ajar before he left for the game earlier.

Your clothes were then taken off slowly one by one in the hopes of Joe walking in and seeing you. Your shoes had already been thrown off at the door downstairs, the next thing to come off was your jeans that hugged your curves that he loved so much. Next was his jersey and the shirt that you were wearing underneath it in case you got cold. You had started to take off your bra next when you suddenly felt him behind you making you jump. You hadn’t heard him come in as he wrapped his arms around you before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“I thought I told you to strip? So, why are you still wearing clothes? You like disobeying me?” He asked you before placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“No, I was….”

“I don’t want to hear excuses. Do as you’re told the first time so I don’t have to punish you. Now get the rest of those clothes off.” He told you as a light smack was felt across your ass.

You nodded your head and your bra as well as your black thong were quickly removed from your body and discarded onto the floor all while Joe was standing behind you watching you intensely. Once you were finished, he leaned down to your ear once more before he reached around to put two of his fingers up to your mouth that you slowly started to suck on before reaching down and rubbing small circles along your clit making you gasp.

“Mmm, look how wet my baby is. This all for me?” You nodded your head to answer his question because you knew that words were going to fail to come out of your mouth.

“Get on the bed and you better not make a sound unless I fucking tell you to. Face down, ass up.”

Walking over to the bed once Joe moved his fingers away from your core, you slowly got on the bed with the help of him since the bed was so high and crawled to the top of it as you rested your head down on your arms with your ass sticking high up in the air on display for him.

You could hear Joe behind you doing away with his clothes and in a matter of seconds you felt him crawl onto the bed and roughly grab a hold of your hips before slowly entering you and bottoming out as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

It took everything in you not to let out a gasp and simply put your hand over your mouth as you felt him move out of you before he slammed back in.

His movements were intense and sloppy of course with him letting out his frustrations as you were doing your best to keep quiet. The more he pounded into you, the harder it was becoming and knew that being quiet would only last but so long.

You could feel yourself getting closer to reaching your peak and you soon felt Joe reach underneath of you to massage your clit as he continued to pound into you. This sent you over the edge and you couldn’t help but to let out a small moan but immediately put your hand back over your mouth. But the damage was already done and you tug knew that you would soon be in for it.

“Oooh fuck.”

Hearing this, Joe immediately flipped you over and a hand immediately went around your neck with him squeezing it.

“Did I tell you to fucking speak? I don’t think I did.”

You remained quiet as he let go of your neck as he trailed kisses along it and down your chest with him placing one of your nipples into his mouth as he was rolling the other one between his fingers. It was taking everything in you to stay quiet as your back arched up off of the mattress. His fingers moved on from playing with your nipple to insert two of them into you as he continued to suck on the other one.

Joe noticed that you were squirming and he took it as a sign that you were close and probably frustrated because he told you not to say anything.

“You close baby? I can tell.”

To answer him, you nodded your head as he added another finger making you gasp. His fingers were pumping in and out of you when he decided to replace his fingers with his tongue knowing that it was a matter of seconds before you would come undone in front of him.

“Shiiit!” You couldn’t help but to let out as your hands were directly to his hair to pull him closer to you.

At this point, your legs were wrapped around his neck as he began to suck on your clit making them shake the harder that he did.

“Baby…. I’m….” You started to say, but without warning a gush of liquid was now covering Joe’s face as he was still sucking on your clit making you squirm.

“That’s my good girl. Give me another one, baby. I know you can.”

You immediately shook your head no, but it was clear that Joe didn’t care since he went right back to sucking on your clit. After you squirted all over his face once more, he quickly crawled back up your body as he inserted himself into you.

His movements were more sloppy than before indicating that he was close as he put your legs onto his shoulders as you began to rub your clit.

You had reached your peak for the third time when you felt Joe slide out of you. Knowing what that meant, you immediately sat up and took him in your mouth as you tasted his cum hitting the back of your throat.

“That’s my pretty girl. You better swallow it and not waste a drop.”

Joe had now put your hair in a makeshift ponytail to get it out of the way since he remembered you one time promptly yelling at him when his cum had gotten in your hair after you had gotten it done just hours before.

Once you swallowed everything that didn’t leak out the side of your mouth, you promptly opened it to show Joe who then leaned down to place several kisses on your lips. Once you had laid back, Joe quickly followed suit with him laying on you as you held him tightly to your chest. It was quiet for a few minutes as both of you were trying to even your breathing when he finally spoke.

“We should have won.”

“I know.”

“And even though it wasn’t my fucking fault, I’m going to get the blame for it.”

“I know.”

“We’re 0 and 3 now and I don’t know what to fucking do.”

“The only thing you can do is to go out there and do your best. You played absolutely amazing tonight so this isn’t on you in the slightest even though people will put it on you anyway. I am still so proud of you and I’m always going to be proud of you.” You told him as you placed a kiss on top of his head.

“Proud of a loser boyfriend who can’t win an NFL game?”

“Joseph… talk about yourself like that again. I dare you. Just because you have a few setbacks doesn’t mean that it’s going to be like this forever. I will let you rant all you want tonight, but tomorrow I’m not having it. You are literally the highest paid quarterback in the NFL and you need to fucking act like it.”

“I... guess you’re right.”

“I know I'm right. It's only been three weeks. There's still time to turn this around for the better and I promise to be here through all of it. But did I perform my duties as your girlfriend to help you let your frustrations out?” You asked and he immediately smirked.

“You did more than help me through it, but I definitely didn't say that we were done.” He told you as he picked his head up off of your chest to look at you.

“Wait, what?”

“Switch places with me so you can ride me.”

Taglist

@a-moment-captured

@hoodharlow

@nattinatalia

@wickedfun9

@dandelionwrites8

@keiva1000

[featherandferns]

surfs up (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | part of the F.W.B universe, but can be read as a standalone too!

content warning: drug use; mentions/discussions of sex

word count: 4k.

blurb: you meet JJ's friends. whilst Kiara and Sarah grill you about your boyfriend, John B and Pope are still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that you've managed to tie JJ down.

The mirror could do with a clean. You look past the smudges and marks on the glass to focus on parting your hair with a comb. It’s freshly washed and wet, dripping down your bare back.

“Do you have to do that naked? It’s like torture,” JJ complains from the bed.

You don’t look away from your handy work as you reply. “You know, if we go to war, and you get captured, you’re in for a big shock.”

JJ hurls a pillow towards you and it hits you in the side before you have time to dodge, making you laugh.

“I don’t understand why you’re styling your hair anyway. We’re going surfing,” he says.

“I always style my hair.”

“I don’t get why. I mean, I never style mine."

Turning around to take him in, you reply, sarcastically, “you don’t say.”

JJ’s laid on his back on the bed, naked save from his boxers, eyes closed, his hair pointing in any which way. You know that for him, getting ready will consist of switching into some swim shorts, pulling on one of the many tee-shirts on the floor (that won’t stay tidy, no matter how hard you try), and shoving a cap over his unruly hair. You watch as his hand lazily searches for another pillow to toss, coming up short. A vape gets thrown instead, hitting your thigh.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

Looking back to the mirror, you thread the comb through some strands, encouraging them to fall the right side of your head.

“Your hair's just gonna get wet anyway. I don’t know why you’re bother-Oh.”

“What?” you grumble, not liking how his voice has suddenly dropped off. He doesn’t reply. Starts giggling to himself like a schoolgirl. You roll your eyes, looking to him again. “What?”

“You tryn’a look pretty for my friends?”

“Shut up.”

“You are! You wanna look pretty for when you meet them!”

“Shut up!” you repeat, louder. Your face is flushing hot with embarrassment. “I just wanna make a good first impression.”

“Babe, they're so chill, you could walk in half naked and it’d make a good impression. I mean, you basically already did with John B.”

“Please don’t remind me of that,” you whine.

The comb gets dumped on the dresser. JJ’s grinning at you from the bed – you can see his pearly whites reflecting in the mirror – and you somehow refrain from rolling your eyes again. Okay, sure, maybe you are spending a bit more time than usual on how you look and are overthinking how you’re going to dress for this chill-out-surf-day on the beach…But you want JJ’s friends to like you. Think good of you.

JJ hasn’t let up on teasing you. In silent retaliation, when you reach down to collect a tee shirt from the ground, you make a show to bend over forwards, the back of your legs facing him. JJ groans.

“That’s just mean.”

“What is?” you ask innocently, standing upright again, tee shirt in hand.

“You’re not playing fair,” JJ tells you.

Smirking, you open a dresser draw and shove in the tee. There’s no point wasting time folding it, as it’s only going to end up on the bedroom floor again by tomorrow. Opening the second drawer, you dig through your clothes that have gradually accumulated in JJ’s room at the chateau. Digging out a two-piece and a pair of shorts, you move to get dressed.

“Do you think we got time for a quickie?” JJ asks.

You bark out a laugh. “We really don’t.”

“Sure we do. Please.”

“Are you seriously begging me to have a quickie with you-” you glance to the bedside table’s clock, reading the time “-ten minutes after we said we’d meet your friends outside?”

JJ shrugs, sitting up. “I’m very fast.”

“That’s usually not the kind of thing guys brag about,” you remind him.

Your shorts are on now, and you reach around to tie the back of your bikini top.

“I’m serious. In and out, I swear. Two minutes tops.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

“Baby…”

“JJ,” you mimic. “No means no.”

He grunts and flops back on the bed, dramatic. You grab at another tee shirt on the floor (I mean, are these things multiplying?) and toss it at him. It lands on his face and he groans.

“Get dressed. I’m gonna brush my teeth.”

“Boo.”

You laugh to yourself as you walk out his bedroom, into the bathroom. As you brush, you inspect your face for any blemishes, and your hair for any stray strands which have fallen away. There’s a nervous thrum in your chest, over-layed with excitement; similar to the kind you get before a match.

You know JJ’s friends are far from snobbish. They’re perhaps the most easy-going people on earth. But earning their approval weirdly means a lot to you. Maybe it’s because JJ doesn’t seem very close with his family – at least, he never talks about them with you – so this feels akin to meeting the parents. You also have a sense that his friends inform a lot of his thoughts and decisions, and so if you were to slip up, maybe they’d somehow convince him to leave you. Whilst the pair of you have only been official for a couple of weeks, nearing to a month, you already feel how attached you’re becoming to him. How you save your dirtiest jokes for him and make a mental note of any anecdote at work that you know will have him in stiches. And the sex is better than it ever was before.

By the time you’re done in the bathroom, JJ’s pulling on his boots. He’s dressed in an old work muscle-tee and some swim shorts (just as you suspected) and there’s a cap waiting on his bed. The red one. You smile, sit down and pick it up.

“Think this is my favourite one,” you tell him. You inspect the front and read the branding.

JJ takes it from you and places it on your head, pushing down on the lip of the cap so it blocks your vision. Makes you laugh.

“Looks good on you too,” he says. “Not as good as I look on you…”

“We’re not having a quickie, JJ.”

“Damn it. Ah well, worth a shot.”

You take off the cap and hand it back to him, getting up. JJ’s kicking your trainers towards you and you slide them on rather easy, without having to untie the laces. Then the two of you are heading out the house and out the front door. The butterflies that had momentarily let up in the bedroom are back, beating their wings in full force at the sight of his friends gathered around the back of the house. Kiara is sat in the hammock, scrolling on her phone, and Sarah is half-laying at her feet. Pope is lent against the tree. He’s talking to John B, who’s sat on one of the low deckchairs, eyes closed and nodding along. JJ whistles as the two of you approach, catching their attention. When their heads turn to look at you, it makes you think of hawks fixating on prey.

“Yo. Good to go?”

“Only been waiting for ten minutes,” Pope says.

“Wasn’t it Newton who said time is relative?”

“No. That was Einstein, genius,” Pope corrects.

JJ rolls his eyes. “Whatever. We’re here now.”

Sarah’s on her feet, walking over to you, smiling with a hand outstretched. “Hi! I’m Sarah!”

“Hi,” you smile, shaking her hand, introducing yourself. Kiara follows second. Pope nods at you from the tree, introducing himself, and John B gives a small wave.

“We’ve technically already met,” he says, making you laugh through your embarrassment.

“Technically.”

“Come on!” Kiara’s calling, half-way to the twinkie. “We’re missing all the good waves!”

“Who’s got the cooler?”

“Already packed."

"Yeah, we had some time to kill...”

“Boards?”

“Attached to the roof.”

“I mean, can you seriously not see them? You do have eyes, right?”

“Shut it, Pope.”

You tag behind the gang, barely following their constant banter, chuckling at the antics. It seems they have a routine. John B and Sarah climb in the front, the former sitting behind the steering wheel. Kiara slides open the back door and her and Pope climb in first, taking the back seat. JJ offers you a hand as you step in. You take the spot nearest the steering wheel – a strange box-like podium that you imagine is hollow for storage – whilst JJ slides the door shut. He sits near your feet, leant against the wall of the front seats. The engine has spluttered to life and the radio begins to play Marley. The gang gives a few whoops of excitement as you set off towards the beach, away from the marsh.

By the time you pull up to the beach, Pope has explained the theory of the universe; JJ and John B have gotten into a brief, fleeting argument about whether Atlantis could be real; Sarah reminisced about the last time she went surfing; and Kiara has gone on a semi-heated tangent about litter on the beaches. Your cheeks ache from smiling and laughing. Whilst you haven’t fully stuck your neck out yet to join in, you’re content just listening to the gang bicker and beam.

As the engine shuts off, JJ reaches down to squeeze a hand on your shoulder. “Ready to ruin your hair?”

Mirthfully, you roll your eyes. “Can’t look any worse than yours.”

Pope ooo’s at the burn whilst Kiara whistles lowly, grinning.

Then everyone’s getting to their feet, hopping out the car, retrieving gear and supplies to lug down onto the sand. JJ carries his board and the cooler, and you lug the paddle board and a tote bag of snacks. John B and Sarah settle on a good spot, just shy of the dunes, far enough from the water that there’d be plenty of time before the tide comes in to pack up and leave. As everyone starts to dump the stuff, Kiara pulls out a blanket to lay out. A speaker beeps to life and Pope connects. Classics ranging from the sixties through to the noughts begin to play, encapsulating the feeling of summer. It’s hot under the sun but not uncomfortable. There’s a slight breeze that could catch someone out with thinking they’d avoid a sunburn.

“Who’s up for some waves?” JJ asks, pulling off his tee.

“Hell yeah,” John B grins.

“I’m in,” Pope agrees.

Sarah’s situated herself on the rag-tag blanket, pulling out a nail file. “I’m gonna wait a bit longer.”

Kiara is pulling out a joint and lounging back on the sand. It’s answer enough that she’s skipping out for now.

You decide to stay with the girls; wait for the waves to build some more. The guys begin to race towards the water, JJ cracking a joke to John B that earns him a shove. You shake your head as you watch the trio go. Searching around in one of the tote bags, you retrieve a packet of pretzels chips and pull it open.

“Thanks for letting me tag along today,” you say to the two girls.

“What’d you mean tag along?” Kiara frowns.

“We’ve been begging to meet you ever since JJ started hooking up with you,” Sarah tells you.

You chuckle, sceptical. “Wait? Really?”

“Yeah!” the girls chorus, making the three of you laugh.  

“God, that boy is so whipped, it’s gross,” Kiara snorts.

“It’s adorable!” Sarah corrects.

Offering around the bag to the two of them, you frown. “I don’t know about whipped…”

“Girl, you didn’t hear him,” Sarah says, amused. “After you two had been hooking up for like two weeks, he started talking about you all the time. It was hilarious.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, but he’d do it in a way that he didn’t realise he was. Like he’d just randomly have to add little bits and pieces about you into conversations,” Kiara continues.

“Thanks to him we know your favourite sandwich.”

“And your favourite colour.”

“Favourite TV show…”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” you laugh. Your face feels burning hot. Glancing out to the waves, spotting the three guys wading out on their boards, you smile to yourself. You never knew that. “That’s kinda sweet, actually.”

“So…he treating you well?” Kiara asks.

You look back to them and smile, nodding.

“It’s so weird for me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone before. I mean, I’ve cared a lot for people, but only like my parents and stuff. And, for most people, you’re born with that sort of affection for them, you know? But with JJ…I just felt it sort of grow until I couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing him.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you cringe. Laughing in spite of yourself, you add, “sorry. That was gross.”

“It was adorable!” Sarah is practically giddy. Kiara and you laugh. “We’ve been waiting for the right girl to get to him.”

“I knew he was a romantic at heart,” Kiara nods in agreement.

“Wait. Is he romantic?” Sarah asks, looking to you once more.

You grab another pretzel and eat it as you think.

“I guess. We’re not really the mushy-shit type couple. But he’s kind of thoughtful. Does these little things for me sometimes. Like, I told him that I used to have chocolate-covered strawberries with my nana on picnics when I was younger, and that they remind me of her. I don’t even know how it came up, really. But the next day he’d made me some as a surprise. It was kinda sweet.”

“No doy – his love language is acts of service,” Kiara shrugs. She flicks on her lighter.

“What’d you mean?”

“Like, he expresses his love and affection for people through actions,” she tells you. “I’m telling you, that’s what it is.”

“What are the other types of love language again?” Sarah wonders.

“Lemme think. There’s gift giving, words of affirmation…”

As Kiara continues to list them off, you look out to the water and mull it over. You catch sight of JJ surfing, dipping in and out of the waves, weightless like a feather, as if he were born and bred on the water. You’d played down the chocolate covered strawberries story. There was more to it then him just doing it out of the blue.

That night, the two of you had decided to watch a movie. An old classic came on – one of the Monroe films – and you went into this random spiel about how your nana used to be the biggest Monroe fan. That went into JJ asking about your family, and you nana, and you telling the chocolate strawberries story. You got a little tearful at the memory, knowing that you wouldn’t have a moment like that with her again, and JJ made a point to tell an embarrassing story from middle school gym to cheer you up. The night had gone on and you didn’t think much more of it. The next day, JJ texted you to meet him in the marsh. When you arrived, there was a blanket laid out and some snacks and drinks (mostly beer) laid out. He seemed somewhat embarrassed, as if worried it was too much. The two of you hadn’t really done an official date: mostly movie-nights and sometimes grabbing lunch purely out of hunger. But you’d never had someone do something like that for you. Then, bashful, he'd opened up a Tupperware and held it out to you, offering you a chocolate covered strawberry. Come to think, it might have been the most romantic thing anybody had ever done for you.

But telling the girls all of that felt like you might take something away from the memory. You knew JJ liked his reputation. You understood, having one of your own somewhat. The fact that he had done it without being prompted, out of the kindness of his heart and his feelings for you…It made you feel special and wanted. And what other feeling do humans crave from another, other than that? No. You’ll keep those details to yourself. They can just know about the strawberries.

“No, no, John B’s definitely a words of affirmation sort,” Sarah is saying pointedly.

Kiara’s shaking her head in disagreement. “Quality time, all the way.”

“Quality time’s Pope’s thing,” the blonde argues.

“He’s surprisingly really into words of affirmation, in his awkward Pope-ish way,” Kiara informs, taking a drag.

“Wait, I’m confused. Are you and Pope a thing?” you can’t help but ask Kiara.

She looks away from both you and Sarah as she takes another hit. The smell of weed is gradually building. “Not exactly.”

“That’s not a no,” Sarah grins, teasingly.

“And it’s not a yes,” she affirms, shooting a glare. It softens, as she struggles to find her words. “It’s a…”

“Complicated?” you offer.

She smiles at you, grateful. “Yeah. 'Complicated’.”

“I know complicated,” you chuckle. “Used to be the queen of complicated.”

“You mean like before you and JJ were official?” Sarah wonders.

You nod. Resting back on your bent arms, you sigh.

“It was so hard to tell where we stood sometimes. And whenever I’d try and start up a conversation about it, he’d get all weird and defensive and stuff.”

“Yep. That sounds like JJ,” Kiara chuckles, a little sadly.

“For the record,” Sarah chimes in. “I knew he liked you from the first time he got with you.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yeah. He just seemed lighter. Happier.”

“Sex does that to people,” you chuckle, brushing it off.

“No, I’m telling you. He was a goner from the start.”

“Did you forget the sandwich-colour-TV-show story?”

You laugh, waving them away. “I’m just pretty decent in bed, is all.”

“No kidding. You know what JJ says right?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t know!?”

“What? What don’t I know?” you worry, sitting up again.

Kiara and Sarah are making faces at each other, laughing. You confusion twists into anxiety that eases the moment Sarah looks at you again.

“Okay, okay, so we’re hanging out at the chateau one night, right?” she begins.

“And JJ’s drunk as a skunk, okay? Like really wasted.”

“And high.”

“Yeah, and high,” Kiara nods, chuckling at the memory. “So John B asks about who the girl he accidentally bumped into the hallway was, the other night.”

You throw your face into your hands with a groan. Are you ever going to live that down?

“Well, at first JJ tries to act all casual. Says you’re this side-chick he’s seeing,” Sarah continues.

“But for some reason, John B thinks that’s not the whole truth. So he starts pushing at him.”

“Eventually it all just kicks off until JJ lets slip that you’re the best sex he’s ever had,” Sarah finishes, smirking at you, almost like she’s proud.

You’re human. The indirect compliment goes straight to your head and makes it grow about ten times in size. Fighting and failing to hold off a grin, you check you heard them right.

“Really?”

The two girls nod enthusiastically.

“And, of course, we’ve never let him live it down,” Kiara smiles, sweet like a pageant queen.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you chuckle to yourself. This whole time, with his stupid little game of ‘best you’ve ever had?’ that he kicks up nearly every time the two of you hook-up, came from a part of him wondering if it was as good for you as it was for him. If he’s alone in feeling that way.

“I came up with the theory – which, proved to correct, might I add? – that the reason why the sex was so good is cause he had feelings for you,” Sarah proudly proclaims.

Kiara rolls her eyes as she says, “But you know JJ--”

The three of you chorus through a laugh: “deny, deny, deny.”

With that, all three of you are in hysterics. Your ribs begin to hurt from laughter. As you revel in the wonderful pain, you wonder if you’ve ever felt so at ease in your life before. It wasn’t that you didn’t have friends, but you didn’t have a group of them like this. Just people here and there who you could vent to and grab coffee with and such. But these girls liked you, and they found you funny, and they cared about what you had to say. Tied in with the added benefit of having JJ, everything felt like it was aligning just as it should.

Flopping back onto the towel, you smile at the afternoon sky. No clouds and no birds. Just endless, stretching blue.

“He’s the best sex I’ve ever had too,” you quietly confess.

The girls’ lingering giggles pause before kicking up, tenfold.

“Wait? Really?”

“Yeah,” you grin, nodding. He was. Easily. “But you tell him that, and I’ll deny it. I like that he doesn’t really know. Only has a hunch.”

“Oh yeah,” Kiara affirms. “We can’t ever give guys the satisfaction of thinking they’re actually good in bed.”

“It’s like the one thing we have,” Sarah winks.

The three of you collapse into giggles again.

~*~*~*~*~*

“What’d you think they’re talking about?” Pope asks, looking out to the shore at the girls.

The three guys are taking a moment to rest, sitting on their boards, legs dangling in the water. JJ can see you, lying on your back, basking in the sun. Sometimes your combined laughter is loud enough to travel out to the water. He feels like he can make out your distinct giggle easily.

“School maybe?” Pope continues to wonder.

“Dude, they’re one hundred percent talking about us,” JJ declares. “I bet my board on it.”

“You think so?”

“JJ’s right,” John B sighs, nodding. “I feel like Sarah and Kie have been dying to grill your girl for ages.”

JJ’s heart feels like it skips at beat at the phrase 'your girl. He never thought he’d hear someone say that to him. Never thought it would make him so happy to hear it. Huh.

“It’s weird seeing you in a relationship,” Pope says, as if reading his mind.

JJ frowns. “What? Like it’s hard to picture someone wanting to date me?”

“No, you moron. Hard to picture you settling for one girl. Honestly, I was worried you had nymphomania or something."

“Nympha-who-now?”

“It’s an addiction to sex,” Pope clarifies impatiently.

JJ grins, smug. “I mean, can’t say that I don’t have that.”

“JJ. Gross.”

“What? Like it’s a secret or something? You’re just jealous, Pope. Gotta get your dick wet,” JJ shrugs.

Now John B’s cringing. “Gross, JJ.”

“So conservative,” he jests, lying back on his board. Clasping his hands over his bare stomach that’s beginning to dry under the rays, he gazes up at the clear sky. “My girl treats me good. Not gonna apologise for bragging about it.”

“But you do you gotta do it in such a crude way?” Pope almost whines. JJ flips him off half-arsed.

“Never thought I’d see the day when JJ was pussy-whipped, but here I sit,” John B says. JJ flips him off too for good measure, then lets both arms flop back onto his stomach.

There’s your laugh again. Makes him smile.

“You guys like her though, right?” he can’t help but ask, after a moment of quiet. Nothing but the waves licking at the boards.  

“Yeah, man,” John B says.

“Course,” Pope seconds. “I think she’s a good match for you. And your out-of-control libido.”

“Pope, I swear to God, you say one more million-dollar-word and I’ll drown you.”

~*~*~*~*~*

As the afternoon turns to dusk, the beach day continues. The guys return to land and the girls take the boards out on the waves. You revive your chats from the beach out on the water, drifting into new topics outside of boys: like boxing and school and work and activism. By the time you’re walking back onto the shore, the boys have started up a fire. JJ offers you a sip of his beer as you ditch your board. You smile and accept, moving to sit between his legs. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against him, and takes the bottle back to have another swig. Sarah settles with John B, and Kiara lounges back, her feet placed on Pope’s lap.

The music lulls out well-known hits (Come on Eileen, Build Me Up Buttercup, and the never-ending American Pie) and you bask in the warmth of the embers from the fire, drying off any speck of salt water. The bottle keeps getting handed back and forth between you and JJ, and eventually a joint joins the mix. The conversation turns easy, light-hearted jokes enhanced by the booze and weed, making everyone chuckle. Sighing, you lean your head back against JJ’s collarbones, looking up at him. He glances down at you, smiles, places a quick kiss on your lips. When his friends gently heckle the two of you, neither of you respond. As he pulls away, JJ rolls his eyes at their antics. Closing your eyes, quietly chuckling at something Pope says, you enjoy the wonderfulness of summer and your boyfriend, never wanting either thing to end.

[slytherinn-xo]

Swim Tryouts at 7:30- Danielle Van De Donk

Danielle Van De Donk X USWNT Player! Lyon Player! Reader

Synopsis: When Daan has football at 7:00 and swimming practice at 7:30, while at the world cup.

851 words

Being a US player that plays outside of the US is rare, like extremely rare, but being the only one to have never played in the NWSL, now that's rare. 

I was born in the USA, raised in Memphis Tennessee, but when I was 14, I moved away to Germany as that's my father's home country. When I spent the next three years before I started off my career in the German Women's top League.

I've played for four leagues, now, starting off my career in the German League with Bayern Munich in 2017 for just one season. Getting to play with the greats over there, learning so much from Frido, Sara Dabritz, Jill Roord, Leupolz, and Leah Galton.

Before I signed with Arsenal in 2018, for the next three seasons, until 2021. Where we won the WSL title once, in my first season.

Which was where I met Daan, I fell in love to say the least. But she was already in love, with Beth Mead, so I watched on from the side lines, like I was waiting to be subbed on now.

But she was my best friend, it was her, me, Viv and Jill when she finally came and joined us. The Dutchies and the American.

But they were my family.  

And then I moved to play for Barcelona for just one season after they won the Champions League in 2021 til 2022. Before I moved, and I got the chance to be with the girl I was in love with. 

Daan. 

So I joined in 2022, which was where we reconnected, and to say we both fell in love was the truth. We've been dating now for 10 months, and we do hide it, but we don't at the same time. 

We're private people but not a secret.

So facing here now in the group stages of the Women's World Cup, it was hard. 

But with less than 3 minutes to go of extra time was on the clock, and I turned back after the whistle was blown. 

I just saw an orange shirt on the floor. "Who is it?" I asked Lindsay, my Lyon teammate, as I couldn't read from that far away. Well that and I'm dyslexic and can barely read myself.  

"Daan." She muttered before I ran over to my girlfriend. I couldn't hide all of this, I was scared, my girlfriend is on the floor not bloody well moving. 

"Schatje." I told Daan standing by her as she was led on the floor not moving, crouching by her as I had my hand on her shoulder. 

"Poepie." Daan muttered back to me. 

"Not that name." I told her with a smile, that was one good sign she could still understand me and knew who we were around her. 

When the Dutch medics made their way over to Daan you saw the first showings of blood slowly coming out of her hair, but you had no idea how much there would be under there. 

I wasn't given a choice but to move away from her as the Dutch staff moved me out of their way, pushing me back away from my girlfriend. 

"No, stay!" Daan told me as she locked eyes with me, trying to reach her hands out to grasp onto me. 

"I'm right here." I told her as I kept eyes with her. 

I watched as they placed some gauze over her wound, before just placing a swimming cap over it. 

I laughed at her. 

"Not a word!" Daan told me, pointing that finger at me, wagging it at my face. 

"You look like you've got swimming practice in half an hour." I told her with a smile. 

"Oh shut up." Daan told me as she stood up. 

"Make me!" I told her walking away from her backwards as she was escorted of the pitch before she could return to play. 

~~

"Are you two doing okay, it looked rough on the pitch?" The interviewer switched to English seeing me walk up to Daan, and I stood a bit behind my small gal. 

"The best players are always the most competitive." I told the interviewer as I interrupted Daan's interview. 

"Best friends?" The interviewer asked us both, as my arm was around Daan's shoulders but Daan's was holding onto my waist. 

"The best." Daan answered like clockwork for us, squeezing my waist twice, doing our code, for when we wish we could say our feelings. 

"Go get that checked out properly." I told Daan raising one eyebrow up at her, as she nodded, looking deep into my eyes. 

"I will, ik houd van je." Daan told me, trying to politely kick me out of the interview. 

"Ik houd van je." I told her back quickly kissing her before walking off to Lindsay who was gasping at my actions, before I froze. 

"You didn't mean to do that?" Daan asked me. 

"No I didn't!" I said shaking my head, before running back to kiss Daan one last time before running away back to Lindsay as we were both bright red in the face now. 

[danafeelingsick]

UH OH, SHOULD'VE STAYED HOME

[Takes place after episode 3, in which Clark Kent is sick with an actual stomach bug this time and Lois takes care of him.] AO3 | masterlist

Stay tuned for the art I made for this fic!

CONTENT WARNING: graphic descriptions of vomit, nausea, fever, stomach ache, sick at work shenanigans, belly rubs, back rubs, some emphasis on comfort, caretaker Lois for the most part, somewhat horny descriptions? (nothing out of the ordinary), established relationship (to-be?)

WORD COUNT: 7,7k~

A/N: so, you know how in episode 2, Clark uses tummy ache as an excuse and hurries off? and like a few scenes later Lois muses about taking care of him? I took that personally, this might be my longest one shot yet.

omg i love them sm. great series, recommend. 8/10, because it's too short and a bit rushed. this could contain spoilers? idk, superman media is super old already.

          Clark Kent was already half awake when his alarm went off, but couldn't bring himself to roll over and turn it off, or rather, smash it to pieces. His body felt so unusually heavy he was considering drifting back to sleep for just a few more minutes, to try and compensate for the restless night he had.

         It had been too much optimism to think he would be able to sleep on a full stomach, especially when he was sure he was coming down with something nasty. The worry alone had been enough to turn his stomach, worry that he mistook it for hunger, which turned out to be nausea. Now all of those late night snacks seemed like an even worst idea.

          His thoughts of regret and self-reflection were interrupted by his roommate coming down the bunk ladder, the clunky footsteps on the metal were even louder than the alarm, making his head pound. Clark buried his head under the pillows until it was manually turned off, and he swore he had heard it sigh in relief. One less broken alarm clock for the count.

          “We're gonna be late for work if you don't get up", Jimmy shouted from the other side of the room, rustling through his drawers.

          “Need five more minutes...”, Clark grunted, relieved when all he heard was a chuckle and his roommate stepping away, instead of blankets being snatched from him.

          Despite gaining those extra minutes, he sat up after two, suddenly bothered by the feeling of humid covers, even the shirt he had slept in was drenched in sweat. It was a choice between enduring the heat or a headache from the bright artificial light. He chose the latter and dragged himself out of bed.

           By the end of his extra time, he was already in the shower, sweaty clothes hanging from the laundry basket, with hot water falling on his back, his head swimming with the steam.

         Clark caught his mind wandering to the Daily Planet and the day full of errands that waited for him, and... Lois. The two hadn't known each other for long, but Clark already knew that he had to be careful around her. Careful wasn't the right word. Every day she was coming closer to pinning down Superman's identity, and he was growing out of ways to hide it.

           The kryptonian bit down on his lip when a wave of dizziness crashed over him, holding onto the wall with half a mind to not use his force on it. A soft groan escaped his lips as his hand wandered to his belly. Whatever he had eaten last night was not sitting well, it felt like his stomach was doing somersaults.

           On top of that, there was a tight full feeling resting on the upper part of his abdomen, it looked round and firmer to the touch as well, like whatever was there refused to digest. Embarrassed by the thought of it being noticeable under his sweater, he rested his hands over it until the feeling was mostly gone. It was enough for him to step out of the shower and dry himself off.

           It came back moments later, while he brushed his teeth. With a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair still wet, he suddenly felt shivers crawling up his back, and choked around his toothbrush. His mouth flooded with odd-tasting saliva, overpowering the minty taste.

           It felt like he was going to vomit, even though that notion was foreign since he had only gotten sick a handful of times as a kid, rarely as an adult. He spat the frothy toothpaste and stared inside the sink, realizing he could hear the churning in his stomach. He hadn't felt anything like this in a while, he could consider himself lucky.

         With shaky hands, he turned on the faucet and rinsed his mouth out, trying hard not to gag.

           That was bad, he couldn't vomit now… Clark focused on his breathing and on his hands holding onto the sides of the sink, his vision was starting to narrow, out of anxiety, or he was even sicker than he thought. He didn't think he could make it to the toilet, sprinting would only make things worse. If he ran into the wall, he would go right through, and that was a whole other issue.

         Shaking, he glanced up, catching his own piercing blue eyes in the bathroom mirror, looking glossed over and unfocused, his expression pained and miserable. He looked pale, he looked nearly green.

           His lips puckered as he fought against the urge to gag and lost, his tongue rolled out with a thread of saliva joining the sink. He really didn't want to puke, he was running late already, but that did little to stop his stomach from trying to turn itself out. He swallowed hard, a soft hiss escaping through gritted teeth, and wrapped one arm around his middle, trying to keep his footing. If he found out whatever had gotten him sick, he would never eat there again.

           “EuUrRgh!”

           Clark hunched over and dry heaved, feeling his stomach roll under his hand. His lips pursed as he felt something burn in the back of his throat, flooding his mouth. He closed his eyes and coughed a thin stream of lumpy vomit, something sickly sweet acidic mixed with minty toothpaste in his tongue, forming a disgusting taste 

           Before he even had the chance to spit he was retching again, bringing more of what he had eaten the night before in a watery and clumpy surge. He tasted the stale donut leftovers in it, and gagged, trying not to think about it. It was gone with the running water, he didn't need to see it.

           He turned off the faucet after washing his mouth but didn't move away from the sink. His head was pounding even worse now, but at least his stomach didn't feel as full, now it was tender and sensitive like an open wound. Not much of an improvement...

           “Clark, your phone is ringing and it's Lois~”, just as he was starting to relax, Jimmy knocked repeatedly on the other side of the door. ”I gave her your number, you don't mind right? Of course you don't mind.”

           To say the startled Superman jumped was an understatement, he flew, taking a chunk of the sink with him.

           "I-I-I'll be just a minute", he sputtered, scrambling to piece it together.

          His roommate was waiting for him as he came out of the bathroom, half-dressed, looking even worse than before. He must've noticed it right away, his blue eyes now looked a bit red at the bottom, like he was holding back tears.

          "So, are you going to tell me what's up or I'll have to guess?", Jimmy interrogated him with crossed arms, his phone dangling from his hand. "We're late, y'know?"

          A second of silence hung between the two before Clark sniffled. “I… think I'm sick.”

          Jimmy couldn't think of another time where he looked as much like an abandoned puppy. Now he regretted the accusatory tone. 

          "Another one of your migraines?”, he asked, relaxing his posture as he handed his phone back. Clark had frequent ones, and Jimmy never acknowledged it, but it sometimes made his blue eyes look like, well, he wasn’t sure either. That didn’t seem like one of those, however.

          “Don't know...”, Clark mumbled, and his eyebrows furrowed with pain as he stepped away. “Think I ate something bad.”

          Jimmy nodded, he had seen him raid their fridge last night but nothing there seemed bad so Donuts and sandwiches were the first thing that came to mind. He knew Clark had a big appetite and he was always snacking whenever he could, the possibilities were endless. That scene was quite familiar, seeing him trying to soothe a bellyache, rubbing circles over it with his eyes closed, and lips pouting. Only this time he did look like he was about to fall over.

          “I think you should stay home today—”

          “No, not going to leave you two to do all the work. It's not fair”, Clark interrupted, briefly scrolling through his phone, with a strained expression.

          “We'll manage without you. Besides”, Jimmy crossed his arms, his tone had something of suspicion in it. “You really don't look well.”

          “I can't...”, Clark interrupted, showing the screen.

         Lois had left a couple of texts, clearly written in a rush, but summarized meant: “Come ASAP, thought of a new plan. We're going to get that interview!”

          “Alright, since you're not going to listen. You hurry, and I'll hurry. Five minutes”, Jimmy sighed, already on his way to the bathroom. “Oh, and you're eating something on the way because our fridge is empty!”, he added, trying to ignore the welded gash in the middle of their sink.

          Clark grumbled but focused on tying his shoes instead of arguing.

          True to his word, Jimmy stepped out of the shower in five minutes, and another five later, they were leaving the apartment. Clark was already looking a little better now that he was outside, with sunlight and fresh air, though it didn't take long for him to get too hot inside that thick pullover he always wore. He cuffed his sleeves, still managing to do it neatly while Jimmy dragged him to the nearest sandwich shop.

          “I don't think eating and —uRp, walking is a good combination”, Clark commented, muffling a meaty burp into his fist. His face grew a bit red, but at this point, he couldn't tell if it had been out of embarrassment.

          “It's actually good for digestion. Look it up”, Jimmy argued, crumbs of bread and lettuce falling off his mouth.

          Clark wasn't convinced that would make any difference, his optimism was failing him today, but there wasn't much room for it when his stomach felt like it was waging war on that cheesy steak sandwich. Why did he have to pick the greasiest option out of a health and diet menu? Each bite was weighing on his belly like a rock.

          He covered another queasy burp that brought the taste of acid to the back of his tongue, the sandwich was sitting atop that stubborn mess of food, refusing to digest. He risked another bite, he needed food in him after throwing up earlier, but had to hold back a gag as he tried to swallow. Nope, he was done.

          “Do you, uh, want to eat my half?”, he offered, awkwardly pulling his jumper down, feeling like his waistline had grown several inches. 

          “Yeah, you're definitely sick. You usually eat mine”, Jimmy shoved the last bite into his mouth. I’m full too. Just wrap it, and you can eat it later.”

          Clark produced a disgruntled noise but complied, and stuffed the half-eaten, now lukewarm sandwich back in its paper bag. He suspected that he would indeed be tasting it again later, but the thought still made him shudder. By the time they reached the Daily Planet, the young  journalist had resigned himself to the fact that he was going to be feeling queasy for the rest of the day.

         Inside the break room, he went to store his leftover breakfast in the fridge, finding another sandwich already there with a note stuck to it. A fishy stench leaked through the homemade wrapping, permeating the air. Then it clicked:

          “To the prick who stole my Sandwich. This sandwich is for Steve. Not for Clark. Don't steal it, Clark. – Steve”

          Labeled a thief after he had eaten his by mistake, and left his weird combination of mayo, tuna, and avocado for him, sounded like something only a jerk like Steve would do. Clark rolled his eyes, made sense why he was feeling like shit now. He had thought his usual sandwich had gone and in the end, he could barely stomach it. The mix of textures was so odd, and the taste was just wrong, but he wasn't about to throw food away.

          He gagged at the memory, then again at the smell, and hurriedly shut the door. Fuck, not again. He jogged over to the trash can, not trusting himself to use super speed, and hunched over it, trying to breathe. The whole room smelled now.

          It took a minute of breath control, swallowing and spitting the excess saliva, but he thankfully managed to keep his breakfast, even though now his stomach was sensitive all over. He pulled on his sweater, trying to make room for it.

          Scowling, Clark filled a plastic cup with water, drinking it whole in tiny sips. The cold liquid was refreshing on his throat, which still felt a bit tender from the earlier spell. It took his mind off the swirling nausea for a moment. He stepped out of the break room with another cup, entertaining the thought of pinning charges of biological terrorism on Steve.

          “Found you, Superman!”, a familiar voice shouted from down the hallway. Clark felt his soul leave his body.

          He spotted Lois, he had spotted her giant green jacket first, but regardless, both were now marching in his direction.

          “I-I-I think you have the wrong guy”, Clark stammered, nearly dropping his cup.

          Lois stopped in front of him, both hands on her hips, now grinning. “And that's what I'm going to say when my plan works.”

          “A-Ah! Haha”, Clark fake-chuckled, then swallowed hard, it felt like his stomach was running laps now.

          “Wow, you went pale. Hope you're not hiding anything from me”, she half-joked, giving a playful look. ”So, what took you so long, Smallville? Didn't see you out jogging this morning.”

          “I, uh... overslept”, ‘Smallville’ muttered, cocking his head in slight embarrassment. It wasn't a lie, for the most part, but he didn't feel like Lois needed to know the extent of his bad morning.

          “Yeah, I can see that”, she commented, pinning him down with her gaze. “You do look a bit tired.”

          “I, uh....couldn't sleep well”, he admitted, resting his hand on the back of his neck. He suddenly felt hot and dumb, as if he had been cooking under the sun for too long.

         “Aw, is the stress already getting to you?”, she asked with a wince of sympathy, reaching one hand out to cup his cheek, but stopped midway, thinking twice about it.

         “I guess you could say that...”, Clark muttered with a small sigh, eyeing her with a bit of hope, he somehow wanted her to…? He wasn't sure. “So, uh, what's your plan? I thought you already had gotten your interview with Superman”, he tried to change the subject.

          “Oh that, I can't publish that! He lied to all of my questions”, the aspiring journalist said, waving a hand as she dug through her pockets, bringing out her voice recorder. “But I already revised them, there's no way avoiding these. And I already know how we're going to get another interview with him.”

          Clark felt a lump of cold anxiety drop in his stomach, and it must've shown on his face because Lois eyed him with curiosity.

          “What if he was being honest? He didn't seem like the type of guy to... lie”, he said, taking a sip of water to hide the shudder in his voice.

          “I thought that too, I mean, he looked so—!”, she paused, flushing. “Uh, nice. Anyway, and when have you even met him?”, she raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond she was already grabbing his hand. “It's easier if I just show you the murder board. I spent all morning laying it out. Come on.”

         Clark let out a yelp but didn't put up a fight as the shorter woman dragged him through the corridor. He couldn't tell if it had been her hand on his, or the way his body was already feeling awful, but his head suddenly felt hotter, his legs weaker. He didn't have it in him to resist.

         Inside their provisory office, among cabin files and dust bunnies, Lois sat Clark down in one of the chairs, and he was grateful for that, right as he thought he was going to keel over. Jimmy was already there, trying to make sense of whatever Lois had pinned to the murder board.

         “There, don't sleep, okay?”, she commented, and Clark was once again grateful for Lois' tunnel vision when it came to a story. She patted his back briefly before walking up to the board, bumping playfully into Jimmy on her way.

         The wheels squeaked as she pulled it to the front, slamming her hand on it, and dropping some of the thumbtacks in the process. “So, here is the plan.”

         Clark tried but couldn't pay attention to what his senior was saying, his gaze wandered across the board before it settled on the table, the only thing that didn't seem to be warping and tilting before his eyes. His head was starting to ache again, making it difficult to focus on anything. He blinked a few times, and brought an empty cup to his lips, feeling its contents sloshing in the back of his throat.

         Jimmy took up the talking before Lois had the chance to ask anything else, he couldn't tell if it had been on purpose, but he was thankful either way. Clark slipped a hand under the table, then under his pullover and shirt, gently rubbing his queasy tummy. He could feel the organ churning under the taut skin, the food sitting there like a rock. He regretted every second that led to it.

         The queasy-looking journalist silenced a sickly burp into his hand, swallowing back the trickle of viscous sizzling bile that threatened to come up. It tasted cheesy, greasy, and highly acidic, he couldn't think of a worse combination, but soon found one when he realized he could taste something spoiled as well. He had to suppress a fit of gagging, disguising it with a hand on his mouth when he caught Lois glancing in his direction.

         “Come on, we're not risking our lives just to get another interview with Superman, that's not happening —”, Jimmy tried to argue, but he only caught part of the discussion.

         Clark winced as a hot flash of nausea crashed into him, hitting him like a truck, though he had experienced that before, he didn't have a better description. His abdomen clenched, producing a string of bubbly complaints. He leaned forward, hugging his midsection tightly, feeling it gurgle unhappily under his thick sweater.

         A soft moan tumbled out of his lips when his abdomen tightened involuntarily, that same awful anticipation taking hold of him.

         “Um, are you okay there, big guy?”, Lois' voice broke through the stupor. “You've been silent.” 

         “S-Sorry”, the shaky young man whimpered, with his chin to his chest, curled even further into himself. “I-I really don't feel good right now...”

         Lois gave a hum of sympathy, putting whatever she had down before her soft steps trailed his way. Jimmy didn't sound as graceful, he ran along the table, stopping right by him.

         “Hey, what's wrong? What are you feeling?” she called with a slight tremble to her voice, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention.

        Clark winced at her touch but didn't try to pull away, looking up was a bad idea. It felt like the whole room was spinning, only making him feel dizzier.

         “My stomach hurts…”, he whimpered, his voice barely audible.

         “So, his stomach's been bothering him since morning”, Jimmy explained.

         “Oh, is that what those sounds were?”, Lois whispered, speaking off to the side, though her sick coworker still heard it, and froze under her hand, his face taking a whole another tone of red. Did she hear that?

         “Yeah, he threw up too", Jimmy continued, which prompted his friend to raise his head and give him a strained look of bewilderment, his friend only shrugged.

         “What!? And you still let him come into work?”, Lois' hand briefly left him as they went up, in a sign of exasperation.

         “Well, he insisted!”, he tried to defend himself, and Clark felt a pang of guilt.

         ”R-Really, it… wasn't as bad this morning”, he tried to argue, glancing up at the short woman, who was scowling now, thankfully not at him.

         “That is not—! Ugh, forget that”, Lois took another look at the puddle of sweat that used to be Clark, noticing that he was shivering noticeably now, his clothes already damp. “Hey, are you alright? Do you need anything?”

         “I-I don't know, I think I’m— urP!” he began to answer, not really sure where he was going with it when he was cut off by a wet hiccup. The woman opened her mouth as if to speak, but shut it as she heard a sound akin to a reverse gulp coming from Clark.

         That was the only warning he needed before his hand flew up to his mouth, in an attempt to stop the watery bile from flooding past his lips. He was up on his feet in a second, and out of the office in the other.

         Lois called after him a second too late. She had barely seen him run off, she had only noticed after he was already gone.

         The sick Kryptonian was too concentrated in not vomiting down the front of his sweater to realize that he was walking too fast for a regular human. Thankfully, the hallway was empty, he didn't have to worry about explaining anything to anyone. His boiling stomach lurched with every step, lunging against his abdomen as it sent its contents gurgling up his throat.

         He pushed past the door to the restroom, and thankfully found it empty, though he didn't reach the stall in time. Something hot and acidic surged past his throat, quickly filling his mouth with more than it could hold. His cheeks ballooned out behind his hand, his throat convulsed, forcing the sour watery vomit through cracks of his fingers and down the front of his sweater.

          Groaning with disgust, he pushed himself into one of the stalls, dropping to his knees just in time for his stomach to push out the rest of it. Clark didn't think he would end up like this, on his knees retching inside a toilet bowl, because of a stupid tuna sandwich.

         “BlEeuUrRrghH!”

         At least he was due some mercy, all that came up was mostly water, at first, spurting out of his nose. Hot acrid water that dyed the bowl a cloudy brown. Though it didn't look like it would leave a stain, it tasted absolutely awful, like drain cleaner with an aftertaste of grease. He gagged hard on the thought of it and began to dry heave.

         Scowling, a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, infiltrating behind his lenses. He could feel himself shaking violently, a horrible nauseating heat latching onto his skin. He wanted nothing more than to take his sweater off, but he didn't think he could uncurl from the miserable position he was in.

         A pained moan dribbled out of his lips as he gave into another fit of loud dry heaving. His abdomen spasmed under his tight damp buttoned-up shirt, the fabric clinging to it by sweat. It was like he was being suffocated by it.

         Clark clung to the ceramic bowl, though his vomit-covered hand couldn't get a grip on it, and burped up a stream of viscous runny puke. He winced at the violent splash, it almost sounded like an open faucet. He gagged hard as he felt the solid parts passing through his gullet, bits of sandwich his sick stomach couldn't digest.

         “Kh—”, he coughed as the vomit finally tapered off into a sirupy trickle, and spat out what still clung to his tongue. The disgusting cheesy taste of his breakfast was so evident now, with some rotten aftertaste he didn't want to dwell on.

         For a moment or two, Clark hovered over the toilet, panting heavily.  Drool and sick hung from his lips, thin ropes waving along with his breathing, which was the only sound apart from the muffled churning of his upset guts. His belly kept clenching unproductively, struggling to bring up what remained inside of it, only worsening the dull ache of his sore muscles. The dizzying nausea hadn't eased one bit, though he kept heaving, it would be a minute before he had the strength to let any more out.

          A shaky hand came up, wiping vomit all over his sweater, then absentmindedly tugging at his neckline. Once, before a tiny button went flying. Reminded of his superhuman strength, he eased his grip on the toilet bowl and slinked back.

         It could've been minutes or just a few seconds, he couldn't tell exactly, but something pulled him out of his feverish daze. A knock on his stall, a careful one made the door creak as it was pushed ajar. He froze, ready for the worst his anxious mind could come up with.

         “Clark? Are you in there?” It almost didn't sound like Lois, but it was her. He didn't think he had ever heard her so livid before.

         He looked over to find a pair of familiar sneakers peeking under the gap, shifting nervously. He even saw the small manicured fingers sneaking in to pull it closed, allowing him a little more privacy.

         “H-Here Lois, ngh…”, he groaned, and though he still felt dizzy he put in the effort to flush out the toilet, hoping the smell hadn't already permeated the whole restroom. “I'm here.”

         “Oh, good! I've been looking for you everywhere”, she exclaimed, her voice still shaky.

         “Sorry for running off, I felt really sick all of sudden”, he replied, sitting back on his knees. It was a struggle to keep his voice from cracking when it felt like he had swallowed sandpaper.

        “You don't have to apologize for that”, she sighed, her feet kept fidgeting. “Are you alright? Did you… um, throw up?”

         “Y-Yeah”, he admitted, his face flushing with embarrassment, and grabbed a few pieces of paper to wipe his mouth with. “I think it was something I ate.”

         “Jimmy told me so, said you weren't feeling well this morning”, she commented, and he heard her fidgeting with something in her pockets. “He went out to buy medicine, I only found headache pills around here.”

         Any medicine would be a lifesaver right now, but Clark couldn't even stomach the thought of swallowing anything.

         “Anyways, I brought you some water”, she added, followed by the sound of a bottle being agitated. “Can I come in?”

         Clark gulped anxiously at the idea, he didn't want the girl he liked to see him like this, but the idea of being left alone was even scarier. 

         “Okay… come in.”

         The door opened then shut with a small click, Lois actually bothered to close it properly, even though the stall felt small with someone of Clark's size inside, the short woman made up for it

 While he took up half of the space, she barely filled a third. The squared space felt noticeably warmer too, just by being close to him she could feel the heat rolling off him.

         “Hey, big guy” she greeted softly, shedding her puffy green jacket as she crouched behind him.

         “Hey…”, he glanced over his shoulder, offering a tired but genuine smile under a sleeve he ran over his mouth. It tugged on her heartstrings seeing his misty eyes. “Sorry, I'm not doing so hot right now…”

         “It's okay, I'm here now to take care of you”, she told him, rubbing his arm, and offering a reassuring smile of her own. “Anything you need, okay?”

         He mouthed an “okay” before he had to swallow again, feeling his stomach jump, this time he could tell it was from the nerves rather than the nausea. Something about being in a tight space all alone with Lois, no matter how gross the actual situation was, made him anxious.

         Those thoughts were quickly banished as she busied herself cracking the bottle open.

         “Here, drink. You need to replenish your liquids”, she humored, handing him the water bottle.

         Clark mustered a nervous chuckle before he took it, too eager to notice her fingers might've lingered on his for a moment too long. She did note how much they were trembling, though.

         “So, how are you feeling?”

         “A little better now”, he responded after a small sip, trying to return her good humor, and Lois chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. “I don't know…”, he gave a more sincere answer this time, resting a hand over his belly. “I feel… hot? and dizzy… and a little… hm, nauseous still.”

         Lois hummed, looking at his oversized hand distractedly rubbing his belly, picking up on the bubbling sounds she hadn't before.

          “I'm sorry you don't feel good. Food poisoning is never fun”, she cooed, in a tone that should've been mocking but quickly took a side of sympathy. He chuckled too, the bottle's rim still on his lips. “I think you might be overheating in that big sweater, though.”

         “You might be right…”, he panted.

         Her hand wandered to the rim of his jumper, playing with it before she offered, with a smirk: “Wanna take it off?”

         He gulped, then nodded, putting the water bottle down, and raised his arms just enough for her to pull it off.

         Without it, he almost looked like another person, his hair was up in spikes, his blue tie was messed up and his glasses were crooked. The white dress shirt he had underneath was nearly see-through, with a couple more buttons threatening to pop off. Lois looked away for a moment, convinced the heat was getting to her as well.

         “Better?”

         He hummed, while adjusting his glasses and combing his hair down, coming off a little weaker than he meant to. In reality, he was still feeling quite groggy, and his head was pounding, not to mention…

         “You don't sound sincere”, she commented, her eyes now fixed to his hand, which in play was fidgeting with the buttons of his undershirt. “Does your belly hurt?”

         “A little…”, he started to reply, but as if to punctuate his answer, it gave a low grumble that Lois heard and had to disguise a snort. “Hah, I guess… a lot”

         “You're a bad liar, Clark”, she pointed, smirking.

         He would have blushed if his face wasn't already a feverish red. Instead, he lowered his eyes and simpered.

         “I think we have a hot water bottle somewhere in the break room”, Lois commented after a moment of silence, bumping him in the shoulder to lift his spirits. “It helps a lot with cramps.“

         Clark made a noise at the mention of it, a mix between a grumble and a snort that drowned out as he took a swig of water. While it soothed his sore throat, it was getting hard to ignore the way it seemed to slosh inside of him, sitting heavily on top of his undigested meal.

         Another noise, one of surprise, escaped him when a small hand came to rest on his cheek. Instead of flinching at the feeling of cold fingers, he nearly melted, putting his hand over hers before she could retrieve it. In turn, Lois widened her eyes at the heat rolling off his skin.

         “What are you doing?”, he asked, holding her there.

         “Checking if you… have a fever”, she responded, with a mix of surprise and embarrassment at his reaction. His hand completely covered hers. “Can I?”

         “Ah, right… Go ahead”, he gave a sheepish look before letting go.

         Now flustered, her hand glided up, resting the back of it against his forehead, his once fluffy bangs were flat and soaked in sweat. A soft hiss left her mouth, all that was left was steam to come out, his skin was nearly sizzling, and she didn't even think it was humanly possible.

         “Do you think I have a fever?” Clark humored her. “That would explain a lot…”

         “Definitely, I don’t even need a thermometer to know”, she half-joked, brushing off a few damp strands of hair. ”You're burning up, and covered in sweat too…”

           “Feels really hot in here”, he muttered, growing a little groggy from what she was doing to his hair. “Your hand is cold, feels nice."

         Lois gave a small hum, cupping his cheek again, and caressing her thumb over his cheek. He seemed to relax as she did it, closing his eyes and sighing, though his eyebrows were still furrowed, and his throat kept moving.

         “I might have an ice bag for you if we go to the break room", she mentioned. “How about it? There's a nice sofa there to rest.”

         Clark considered the offer for a second, or rather, the mental image of falling asleep on her lap, he would've said yes then and there. Then he felt his stomach tighten, and was reminded of the nausea swirling in the pits of his stomach.

         “I don't know, Lois… I really don't think it's safe with me, guh, like this”, he replied, looking up at her with a frown.

         “Aw baby, are you still feeling sick?”, her voice took a more comforting tone as she ran her fingers through his bangs. “Do you think you might throw up?”

         “I– I don't know…”, he echoed, swallowing thickly, enough in his mind for him to miss the nickname. “I think…?”

         Lois sighed, still holding him, she could feel him letting more and more of his weight onto her, and worried he might be getting weaker. Her eyes wandered down to his collar, where a faulty button left a peek of his chest out, and quickly went back.

         “You hadn't eaten much today, have you?”, she asked.

         “Just, gulp, half a sandwich since I woke up”, he responded, his expression crumpling in disgust, as if recalling his previous meal wasn't the right move.

         “Do you think that might've been it?”, she asked as he pulled away from her, going back to fidgeting with his buttons.

         “No…”, his lips trembled as he said, like he was trying not to gag. “I– , had something from the fridge yesterday. I— muRp, excuse me.”

         He pressed a fist to his mouth, closing his eyes and swallowing convulsively as he recalled the taste of that horrible tuna sandwich.

         Before Lois had the chance to ask anything else, he was crossing his arms over his middle, groaning with nausea. She scooted closer, wrapping an arm around him in a somewhat awkward but still comforting hug. He leaned on her, even if everything in him said to pull away before he vomited all over.

         “Ugh… my stomach's churning again”, he moaned, curling into a tight ball. “I really don't want… puke.”

         “Well, if you need to”, she told him and heard an airy gulp in response. His face scrunched in what looked like disgust, but it could've been frustration from the way he shook his head. “Hey, I know it's bad, but it's your body's way of helping you through this.”

         Clark mused about his options, his expression still pinched in pain. He could feel his stomach bubbling, the bile constantly at the back of his throat, like a boiling pot threatening to spill over. He looked up at her, at the cute frown she had on, and felt guilty worrying her like this. 

         “Lois, I think you shH— uRp!”, he opened his mouth and his body made the decision for him, letting a wet burp come up without warning. He cupped his mouth, wide-eyed.

         Before he even could apologize, he was muffling another into his hand, trying to swallow the acidic saliva flooding over his tongue. Lois, on a calmer note, placed a hand on his back, gently guiding him to lean over the toilet.

         “It's okay, just let it happen”, she told him, rubbing slow circles in an attempt to put him more at ease. It didn't seem to be working, she could feel his muscles tensing under her.

         Clark was about to ask her to stand outside, he really didn't want her to see him like this, but he didn't seem to have a choice. Hell, they weren't even dating yet, and she was already seeing such a gross side of him.

         Groaning, he draped his arm over the seat and hunched over, resting his head on the meat of his wrist. This way his head was mostly inside the toilet, affording him a smidge of privacy. He stared at the clear water below, taking deep careful breaths, feeling his stomach churn, his breakfast working its way up his throat.

         “Ngh—”, he whimpered when his abdomen caved in, bringing a weak airy gag and a river of salty saliva to his lips.

         It couldn't get worse at least, he told himself. Lois was there, rubbing his back and trying to keep him calm, seemingly unbothered by him being a contagious funk. Clark clenched his eyes shut, tears prickling his eyes, and dry heaved loudly, feeling her flinch at the harsh noise echoing inside the bowl.

         “That's it, try to get it up”, Lois urged in a gentle voice, stroking his back as he retched again, louder but unproductive. “Keep going.”

         He tried again, sucking in his abdomen and whimpering pitifully when it felt like a punch to the gut instead of the relief of emptying it.

         “Easy…”, she instructed, her other hand wandered down, grazing his sore pained tummy over the tight shirt.

         Clark shivered as he felt her touch it, letting out another needy whimper that made her pull away.

         “I-It's okay, you can, gulp, touch there”, he managed to say before he was gagging again, his voice thick with nausea.

         “Ah, got it”, she responded, now sounding flustered. “I’ll be gentle.”

         Her hand found his stomach flat under the shirt, humid and warm, clenching in preparation for another harsh dry heave. A soft whistle escaped her lips as she realized she could feel the muscles of his toned abdomen underneath the clammy skin, even his stomach lunging as he gave another, this time wet-sounding heave.

         Humming with sympathy, Lois tried to rub her open palm up and down, trailing from his belly button to just below his ribcage, gently kneading into his bruised tummy as she went. The surface felt firm, his stomach was full and bloated underneath. No wonder he was feeling so uncomfortable, there seemed to be a lot in there making him sick.

         Her poor boyfriend-to-be let out a queasy moan and belched, the sound turning thick and wet as he forced it out.

         “There, try to get it up”, she instructed, patting his belly and widening her eyes as she felt it gurgle underneath her fingertips. That seemed like it did the trick.

         “H— urp! EUrGhH!” Clark made a miserable sound as he retched into the bowl, the violent heave turned hauntingly wet as vomit gurgled out of his mouth.

         Lois winced as she heard it connect with the water inside the bowl in a sharp splash, hearing him choke up and spit out the rest of it. While that seemed to have been just the liquid he had drank, the strong acrid smell still reached her quickly, making her shift with a slight discomfort.

         “There you go, let it out”, she whispered, trying to keep the disgust away from her voice.

         Clark dry heaved again and his whole body seemed to follow the motion. His back arched forward, his musculature showing through the damp shirt, shoulders hitching as he strained. She felt his stomach lurch under her palm and braced as he brought up more of his stomach contents in a lengthy surge, some of it spurting out of his nose with a hiss.

         He couldn't get a breath in as a second wave came up without warning, sounding thicker on his throat and heavier as it fell into the bowl, making a somewhat soft splatter. Lois didn't want to dwell on what it meant, but from how much he was straining she already had an idea. She could feel his stomach deflating under her fingertips, pumping itself empty.

         “There you go, let it all out”, she encouraged him, rubbing his back, to which he responded, or at least tried to, with a weak groan.

         “I'm, hrk— s-sorry…”, came the garbled apology, punctuated by harsh gagging.

         “Aw, baby… It's alright, don't apologize”, she frowned, tempted to just scoop him up into a hug, but another loud dry heave made her think twice. “You're doing great.”

         “No, I'm— urgh, this is so gross…”, he moaned, sounding completely clogged. “You shouldn't have to… hRk, see this, muRp!”

         “Aw, Clark, it's okay, really. I don't mind being here with you. I wouldn't just leave you like this either”, she responded, sounding timid as the sentence went on. He, on the other hand, didn't have much time to dwell on it as another flash of hot nausea slammed into him.

         Clark could barely keep his eyes open, but at a time like this he was almost thankful, his vision was blurry with unshed tears, which meant he couldn’t see much of the mess he was making. Retching harshly, he choked up another thick stream of his undigested sandwich and stomach juices, feeling the clumps passing through his throat.

         He sucked in a greedy gasp of air, choking up another lengthy wave of vomit not a second later. There was so much that for a moment he couldn't breathe as it gushed out his nose, burning through his airways. He coughed violently as it tapered off, noticing the disgusting taste hanging from the tail end. He knew better than to think too much about it, but now he could taste a pull of spoiled fish at the end.

         “EuRrGhH!”, he moaned, mustering a third consecutive wave before he was left panting so hard his lungs were whistling in his throat.

         “Hey, remember to breathe”, Lois told him, but Clark seemed too caught up in his own misery to take her advice.

         It felt like his stomach was trying to turn itself out. He clenched his eyes shut, tears of exertion gathering on his eyelashes, his throat still working through the last bits of vomit.

         “Breathe…”, she instructed him, her hand still on his stomach, grounding him.

         Clark lunged forward, nearly losing his grip as a harsh retch tore out of him, choking up a trickle of viscous bile into the toilet. He kept gagging for a solid minute, runny puke dribbling inside the toilet as his stomach continued to wrang itself empty, trying to get rid of any traces of that disgusting sandwich he had eaten yesterday.

         A moment or two passed of Lois shushing him while he continued to heave weakly, the involuntary motions growing more sparse. It felt like his stomach was finally empty, even though it kept clenching, leaving his abdomen sore.

         “Think you're done, big guy?”, she said, patting his back.

         “Mrgh… hm-hmm”, he made a pained noise before humming, though it still took another minute before he felt confident enough to raise his head.

         His face was an utter mess of orangish-brown vomit, drool and snot hanging from his nose and lips in thick slimy ropes, some of it coating his chin. He instinctively brought a cupped hand under it, trying to keep the mess from dripping on his shirt, but Lois was quicker, handing him a handful of rolled paper.

         “Think you got it all out?”, she asked sheepishly, while he blew his nose.

         “Think so…”, he rasped, his voice completely shot. 

         “Um, here, rinse your mouth out”, she instructed, bringing the water bottle to his lips and tipping it so he could take a sip. ”You don't have to swallow, just to get the taste out.”

         After he swished and spat out, she flushed the toilet, glancing at the swirling vomit inside and grimacing. She could make out bits of green lettuce among the murky orange mess, and lowered the lid before she had the chance to see anything else.

         Turning her gaze back to him, she found his junior intern sitting there like a lost kid, misty-eyed and sniffling, staring at the ground through half-lids. His color hadn’t improved much, in fact, he looked more green than pale now, with a feverish blush still burning on his cheeks.

         “Hey?”, she called, waving her hand in front of him. He raised his head weakly, blinking. “Are you alright now? Still feeling nauseous?”

         “Huh? No, I… think I'm empty now", he responded, though that didn't exactly respond to the question. His stomach was settled now, though it felt sore, like he had just done the worst workout of his life.

         “That's good, I think? At least you got out whatever was making you sick”, she commented, to which he had to put a hand to his mouth, covering a gag. “You must have a pretty weak immune system, huh? I mean, you were last week too.”

         “O-Oh, yeah, I was, yeah”, he feigned a chuckle, recalling the lie he had told her, when he needed to fly back home. His face quickly dropped. “Lois, I'm sorry you had to see this, I really didn't know what to—”

         “Clark, it's okay, really. You don't have to apologize for being sick, or for needing help. None of it is your fault. I'm here, okay? For whatever you need”, she silenced him, cupping his cheek again. A small smile played on his lips, before he nodded, finally convinced. “Now, do you think we can go? It's not exactly hygienic to be on a restroom floor.”

         “Ah! Y-Yeah, you're right“, he chuckled, putting his hands on his knees as he struggled to his feet. Lois followed, lending him a shoulder to lean on.

         “Come on, big guy. If you play your cards right, I might even make you some chicken noodle soup when we get to your place”, she said playfully.

         “Wait, really? That does sound good”, he replied, blue eyes sparkling with a naive and hopeful look.

         “We'll see”, she smirked. “But now, what you need is to lay down and rest.”

         He didn't argue, looking forward to the possibility of falling asleep on her lap, to her small fingers brushing through his hair, to her scent. At least there was some good to be taken out of this situation.

[mooncello]

it's new year's eve, so please enjoy this 'lil nye scene from my lava au. wishing you an easeful and nourishing start to 2024, kittens. <3

Cole

A laugh spills from Kai’s throat, and he stretches out beside me. We lie there together as our breathing returns to normal, limbs warm and relaxed. I slide my palm along the line of his shoulder, and brush my fingers along his clavicle, tracing the ridges and valleys of him.

Kai makes a contented sound and nestles closer. “Do you have any new year resolutions?”

“I don’t do resolutions.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “For real? You’re the exact type of person who makes resolutions.”

“Sometimes I don’t understand how we’ve known each other for 12 years,” I say drily. “You don’t know me at all apparently.”

“Okay, no resolutions! Jesus.”

“Time-bound goals stress me out,” I say, after a moment. “Especially year-long ones. I never know what’s gonna happen in any given year—ninja missions, my brain—and I don’t like feeling guilty if I can’t accomplish what I set out to.”

“I get that,” Kai says. His fingers find my scalp and start scratching lightly. An undignified groan escapes past my mouth. Fuck that feels good.

“What about…bucket lists?” Kai continues.

“Like, life?”

“Say the next five years. Is that just as stressful?”

I think about it. “No, weirdly not stressful.”

“Cole?” He keeps massaging my scalp, and I think I’m gonna start purring soon. “What is something you want in the next five years?”

You.

I meet his eyes but don’t say anything, though my mind is racing through a list.

I want to still be sleeping next to you and having hot sex and taking care of you when you’re sick. And remind you what an absolute fucking nightmare you are and how much I fucking love you.

“I can go first,” Kai says, interpreting my silence as hesitation. “In the next five years, I want to learn how to swim.” His fingers move from my head and trail down my chest. “Braid your hair. Convince you to wear eyeliner. Visit Bijou—with you. Fuck you in the back of your truck under the stars. Break fewer than five bones. Learn shibari. Drink less.”

Wow.

“Did you come up with those just now?” I ask.

“Some, yeah. Others I’ve thought about for awhile.” He nudges me with his hip. “Your turn.”

I take in a breath. “I want to…open my studio. Convince you to wear glasses. Visit Bijou—with you. Make love to you under the stars. Adopt a cat, well, a second cat.” Kai laughs at that. “Teach you shibari. Hide less.”

“Those are good,” he whispers. Then he gives a little gasp and knocks his knuckles against my sternum. “Wait, you know shibari?”

“Mm,” I hum. “I had a former boyfriend who was really into it.”

“Omifuckinggod. What? Tell me everything. Which ex? You have three, right?”

I can see Kai trying to determine which of the three people he knows of match his idea of bondage kink.

“Five,” I say.

“Five what?”

“Five exes.”

His eyes widen, and then a huge, wicked smile splits his face. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Whatever you want. I fucking love learning new shit about you.”

So we talk, and share more pieces of ourselves as the clock inches toward midnight. We notice we’ve entered the new year a full twenty minutes after it happens.

“Best new year’s eve ever,” Kai whispers.

I kiss him, the first of the year. “I love you.”

“Love you, babe. Happy new year.”

~

full chapter here.

[seraph-of-sizes]

Broken Homes of Different Sizes pt2

Borrower Lyney and Lynette, Human Freminet (Slight au with borrowers existing, everything else is the same as canon)

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

Freminet was exhausted.

When the House of the Hearth had changed hands, he thought it to be of no consequence to him. He would just follow the orders of the new caretaker and vanish into the background again.

Wrong.

The new caretaker was a literal Harbinger. Number Four, the Knave.

Honestly he could admit to himself that the first impressions of her left him terrified. The way she spoke, how she held herself. She was so confident in a way Freminet could never imagine for himself. 

She had spent the time to meet with each orphan within the Hearth personally, and his meeting with her had been the most stressful encounter he had to date. Not even watching his claymore drip with the blood of his targets held a candle to the focus he had to have to maintain his composure.

She had reduced his tasks to simple espionage. The blood he was used to was now replaced with fake prop blood. He was placed behind enemy lines as a helpless child that needed to be taken care of. It still had orders to follow, but now he had to navigate social situations as well. Intel gathering was alright, but that meant speaking to people.

So he would usually spend hours in the oceans to clear his mind before returning home, or on especially exhausting days he would skip the trip and go straight home. 

But spending more time in his home, he began to notice things. What he had originally chalked up to mice was more… methodical. Planned out, paper wasn’t chewed up but cut cleanly. Small slits in food bags that were practically unnoticeable, which should have been more obviously ripped. 

It reminded him of some older fairytales about creatures called Borrowers.

He almost ignored it, if there were borrowers here they were just trying to lives their lives, just like him. But he couldn’t help the small curiosity in his heart as he reread all of his books on the tiny race. It was the one thing he began to look forward to. 

He started buying more foods, stuff he could leave out for them, but it also meant he was eating better than he had in a while. His own health became a side thought  when completing an order after all.

It was after a horrible day where he had disappointed Father that he saw them for the first time. He had performed his task perfectly, however while returning to the Hearth to report back he had been attacked by some Treasure Hoarders.

He was already tired from his mission, and it was one that required him to leave his claymore at the Hearth. All he had to defend himself was a knife and his vision.

He yelped as an arrow lodged into his shin as he jumped off of a cliff and dove into the water. To avoid them following him or tracking him he would have to swim far past the meeting spot. He grumbled softly as he realized he would have to emerge from the water, dress his wound, and still trek for 10 minutes to the spot.

He was going to be late for certain.

“I’m disappointed in you, Freminet.” He hid his flinch at The Knave’s silent jeer. “Late and injured because you let your guard down.”

He swallowed roughly, keeping his mouth firmly shut. After all, machines do not speak unless they are told to.

“Hm. I suppose you have been working quite diligently. Take a week to rest, perhaps I’ve pushed you too far with all of these tasks back to back.” She hummed. “You are dismissed.”

“Yes Father.” He bowed and carefully walked away, only to nearly collapse once he was out of her sight. He placed a hand to his chest and could feel his heart fluttering like a bird trapped in a cage. He took deep breaths as he retrieved his claymore, aptly named ‘the Bell’ for its likeness to a clock, one that could be cranked to chime on certain hours.

The trek to his ‘house’ was a slow one, he took his time, but stuck to alleyways since he still had some fake blood still caked on his skin. He winced as he noticed his wound had bled through the gauze and was leaving a trail of red behind him.

He picked up his pace. The sooner he could get home, the sooner he could wash up and redress his leg.

He fumbled with his keys before walking into the empty home. Perhaps he could make some sort of perpetual music box to fill the silence.

He leaned his claymore against the wall and collapsed onto his couch. He knew he should get cleaned up as soon as possible, but his mind was forcing him to feel all of the emotions he had repressed from the day. 

He stared into space, trying desperately to lock them all back into a tiny box, then throw away the key. But the damn box wouldn’t stay closed!

“Father said I mustn't cry…” He whispered, tears pooling in his eyes, no matter how long he held them open. A choked whimper left his throat as the first tear fell, then another.

He tried. Really he did.

At least he knew better than to cry loudly, the silent tears were accompanied by an occasional hiccup, but after a few moments they were forced back. 

A gentle ticking made him sigh as he wiped his face. He slowly stood up and turned towards the kitchen to get a quick snack before his wash.

His eyes widened in shock as the soft gasp that came from what looked like a tiny girl, stood shock-still on his countertop. Panic response in crisis, Fight, Flight, Fawn, Freeze.

She was obviously the Freeze type.

“H-hello?” He greeted awkwardly, taking a slow step forwards. Just as he was going to introduce himself a hiss left him as the sharp pinprick of pain that brought all of his attention back to the wound on his leg.

He blinked as he watched the girl race off, aided by anemo somehow. It wasn’t until he noticed the ousia residue from her attack as it reacted with his neuma alignment that he realized she must have a vision.

Which was almost more startling that discovering her in the first place. After all visions are given out by Celestia, so therefore the heavens must view Borrowers as people.

Ugh, his head was starting to ache, and his leg was starting to burn. He glanced down only for his eyes to widen as the small arrow buried in his leg, the fletches of the arrow smoking from Pyro infusement.

So there are two.

Mulling over that thought, Freminet removed the tiny arrow, placing it on the counter. He then went and cleaned himself off, redressed his leg with proper bandages, even ate some restorative medicine.

Once that was done he returned to the main room, his curiosity eating at him. He had to figure out more about his roommates before it would let him sleep. The fact it felt like a recon mission has nothing to do with it.

Slowly he denoted every possible entry and exit point, and multiple holes in the walls. After thoroughly memorizing it all, he began to try to locate their built spaces in the walls. Echolocation wasn’t just for bats, a lot of marine life used something similar. Sharks, whales, and more.

Freminet frowned as he walked to the other side of the massive bookshelf. Another knock confirmed his suspicions.

Carefully he pulled the massive paperweight away from the wall, grinning triumphantly as he heard the pitch of the knock change dramatically.

Found them.

[what-if-i-just-did]

Guilt & Revenge: Not Realising They're Injured

Whumptober, Day 6: Not Realising They're Injured

Guilt & Revenge Masterlist

Yay more caretaking!! Noah-Elise my BAByy. As always, hope ya'll enjoy, please lmk to be added to the taglist!

TWs: previous captivity/torture that caused medical issues, blood, hyperventilation, crying, dissasociation and mentions of scars, knives and yelling

Amber was making dinner. It was a nice routine they’d settled in, by now.

He’d been home for.. a few months. After about a month, when he’d started to feel a little more human, Noah-Elise had dropped a bit of a bombshell. She was engaged, and lived with her fianceé… who was currently at her parents’ to give them some space, and was it okay if she came back?

Somewhere, he’d felt a flicker of pride and happiness for his best friend, getting engaged. It was almost completely drowned out by the sadness of having missed so much of everyone’s lives, and terror at the idea of a person he didn’t know coming to live with them. Just being around people, even if it was Noah-Elise, terrified him.

He held the boiler under the tap to fill it with water, then turned it on. Ravonna was… okay, actually. She was kind, and respectful, and calm. It was a little unsettling in a way. She still terrified him. She seemed to be aware of that though, and often stayed out all day to give him space, which he appreciated.

So that was their little routine. Noah-Elise would go to her part-time jobs, Ravonna would go out for jogs or dance classes or swimming competitions, and Amber would just do chores around the apartment, or sit unbothered on his own. It was peaceful for him, and he didn’t have to be terrified of the next torture session. He wasn’t even in pain anymore, all of his wounds had healed. The scars wouldn’t go away any time soon, but he mostly wore long sleeves and stuff, so only the one on his cheek was visible most of the time, or some of the ones around his neck depending on the shirt. He glanced at the clock and frowned. 

Noah-Elise would be home any minute, dinner wouldn’t be ready yet. He should’ve started earlier. He sighed, grabbing a cutting board. 

Using the knives for cooking had scared him a bit at first, because they were very large and very sharp, but they looked nothing like the knives on the boat so… 

He still had some issue being on dry land, even after months. He hadn’t told anyone he was kept on a boat though, so he hadn’t brought it up. The feeling of the floor rocking didn’t make him nauseous anymore like it had in the beginning, but it was deeply disturbing to him.

And inconvenient.

He was content with his new little life, even if he was still terrified a lot, and got nightmares, and… well, it didn’t matter. He was getting better, he was happy here. 

Amber heard a key in the door, and turned to greet Noah-Elise. The greeting died in his throat when he saw her expression. She looked stressed, kind of shocked. Very alarmed.

Which, in turn, was alarming to him. He shuffled nervously.

“Amber! What happened!”, she yelled, making him flinch. 

“What- what’s wrong?”, he stammered, lowering his head- and then he caught a glimpse of red that made his vision swim.

Noah-Elise marched over, dropping her backpack on the floor. She reached for him, and he flinched away, but she grabbed his hand. Vaguely, he could feel her turn his hand around, hear her talk to him, see the blood all over his hand and clothes. He couldn’t think, his mind was racing, he was frozen, he was breathing too fast. Finally, his mind caught onto one thing- the blood that was not only on his clothes, but also the counters and the floor and the FOOD and the, and, and.. 

“I’m s- sorry, I’m sorry, I-I-I-” It was incredibly difficult, trying to apologize through his elevated breaths and the tears streaming over his face and the stubborn fog in his mind… he wasn’t sure if the words were really reaching his mouth.

“Hey, look at me, Amber..” Oh, he could hear Noah-Elise again. Instantly, he shut his mouth, and looked up at her. “Can you breathe with me?”

He shook his head, but tried anyway, and it.. kind of worked.

“Do you know what happened?”

He shook his head.

“You cut your thumb, Am. Pretty deep. I put bandages on it, see?”

He looked over. Oh. He wouldn’t’ve thought enough time passed for her to do that but.. apparently he’d been more dissociated than he thought. Fuck. 

“You’re- you’re not mad?” He needed the confirmation. She wasn’t acting mad but..

“I promise I’m not mad, Am. You have nothing to be sorry for. How about you go lie down, and I’ll tidy up and make us dinner, huh?”

He wanted to protest and apologize and say he should tidy up after himself.

Numbly, he nodded, and went to lie down in his bed. A little later, Noah-Elise came over, talking gently. 

“How you doing, bestie?”

“Little overwhelmed but… better. Thank you.” He smiled, breathing deeply and calmly.

“Okay, that’s good. Ravonna got home, I don’t think you noticed. She’s making dinner, it’ll be done soon. I cleaned up the blood, will you be okay to go back to the kitchen?”

Amber shook his head before he even thought about it. 

“Okay, no worries, you can eat in here. We’ll give you some space.” She shot him a reassuring smile before getting up to leave.

“Wait!”, came out of his mouth before he thought about it.

“What?”

“I’m just… thank you. I love you.” 

He was so so grateful to her. He was lucky to be her friend, always had been.

She smiled at him, soft and proud. “I’m just glad to have you back. I missed you, Am.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. He’d missed her too.

[umlewis]

Every Traveler Needs to Try Lewis Hamilton's Hotel Hacks [part 2/2]

The F1 driver has mastered the art of resetting his body clock and getting comfortable on the road.

Lewis Hamilton first stepped into the Mercedes-AMG Petronas car over a decade ago. Before his signing, Mercedes was struggling to produce as a team, but with the young, cunning Brit behind the wheel, things changed. Since then, Hamilton has scored the record for most wins, pole finishes, and podium finishes in the most competitive motorsport in the world. No matter how gifted the athlete, leading the pack like that doesn’t come solely through natural ability, and the driver has found a formula for success that follows him across the globe. Men’s Journal spoke with Hamilton on how he prepares to drive circuits he’s never seen before at speeds over 200 miles per hour, his favorite cross-training activities, and the travel routines that keep him at the front of the pack.

Speaking on that, how do you train leading up to and during a Formula 1 season? I love to run, so that’s one of my favorite ways to exercise and stay on point during the season. If I can get a good 40 or 50K in during the week, I’m in a good place. That’s on top of the regular workouts I’m doing in the gym. I never had a trainer when I was younger, but when I got to Formula 1 I started working with a trainer who was primarily a physio. His program had me doing a lot of cardio and swimming. That was because back in the day we had to maintain a weight of 68kg [150lbs], which made it difficult to maintain any muscle. They changed those rules and now you can be heavier, so these days I sit around 74 or 75kg [163 or 165lbs]. That’s great because in my own free time I love to lift weights and get after it. I’ll go to an underground gym in Los Angeles with my friend Miles Chamley-Watson, who's also an Olympic fencer for some intense sessions. He's very slender and tall, which is great for his sport, but means I definitely got him beat when it comes to the pullups. The only problem is after one or two good sessions I’ve usually put on too much and have to ease back. Any unexpected cross-training that helps on the track? During the winter months I do a lot of cross-country skiing and hiking. I also love to surf, which usually turns mostly into me swimming because I don’t surf that well. That’s what I’ll be doing ahead of Vegas, getting into the ocean on a board before I’m back on the track. I see you're a fan of ice baths. How do you think cold plunging helps you recover? I do a lot of ice baths, or cryotherapy if it’s available, for recovery. That’s been a game-changer for me. There's barely any suspension in our cars. I don’t know if people understand the toll your back and arms are taking. There’s a lot of pressure going through your lower back, knees, and ankles during a race. The lower body is very tense. Getting in the cold for a good three minutes really helps bring down the body temperature and resets you mentally. Those are even more crucial on the race weekends, before or after the race sessions. I used to save the cold plunges until we got back home, but this past year we've brought them behind the garage. I’m so hot when I get out of the car, and there’s no shower where we are. I’m heading to engineering soaked with sweat. They’ve become such a big part of my regime that I‘ll bring a cold plunge into the hotel room when I can. That and a little coffee are the best way to start a race day.

[serenelystrange]

Summary:

“You’re spiraling, Edmundo,” he mumbles to himself as the app connects to a driver. “This is what spiraling looks like.” In which Eddie has lost control of his entire life, and hooks up with Josh about it. (This is Buddie endgame.)

Rated M for clothed sexy times. At AO3 or under the cut!

Notes:

Eddie and Josh kinda hook up, but it is clearly not romantic at all, and everyone is of sound mind when it happens!

Work Text:

Chris has been in Texas for nearly a month when Eddie cracks. He paces around the too-empty house in anxious circles, watching with detached comprehension as the clock on the wall strikes midnight. He needs something to do, or maybe something to blame, and his hands are practically itching with the urge to strike something repeatedly until they bleed. He’s halfway to the door to get the tire iron from his truck when he thinks of the haunted look on Buck’s face when he’d found Eddie huddled into himself, surrounded by the remains of his destroyed bedroom. All at once, his anger deflates, and hot tears fill his eyes that he lets fall.

Sighing, he pulls out his phone and opens the Uber app, pulling up the dive bar he’d been to with Buck and Chimney a few times in the past. If he can’t hit anything, he’s going to get so drunk that he can’t remember why he wants to.

“You’re spiraling, Edmundo,” he mumbles to himself as the app connects to a driver. “This is what spiraling looks like.”

The app pings and tells him his driver Jesus will arrive in 8 minutes.

His laugh borders on hysterical as he takes in the name, and he resolutely ignores the tightening in his chest as he goes to find his shoes and keys.

One crisis at a time, religious trauma will have to wait.

He’s way past the acceptable number of glasses of whiskey deep when he hears someone say his name in surprise, causing his head to swim slightly as he turns around on his barstool to find the voice. His tolerance is for shit these days, apparently.

“Hey,” the voice says again as it gets closer, and Eddie looks up finally to see Josh in front of him, a sparkly white feather boa draped around his neck.

“Josh,” Eddie says, eyeing the boa in confusion as he takes a look around the drabby bar again.

“I know,” Josh says, gesturing to the place as a whole. “Wouldn’t be my choice for a bachelorette party either, but Emmie from work said she has a ‘deep and spiritual’ connection to this place for some reason. You remember Emmie?”

“Emmie,” Eddie repeats dutifully, trying to both remember and appear not nearly as drunk as he feels. “Blonde with the purple streaks?”

“Pink now,” Josh says, “but yeah, that’s the one.”

“Did you want something?” Eddie asks, and it sounds rude enough even to his own ears that he visibly cringes and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Josh gives an amused huff and gives Eddie an appraising look.

“Good to know you have no manners when Buck isn’t around.”

Eddie ducks his head a little bit and shrugs, but doesn’t deny it.

“Where is he, anyway?” Josh asks, looking around the bar as if Buck was liable to appear by invocation of his name.

“Dunno,” Eddie says, more petulantly than he intends if he’s being honest with himself. “Probably riding around in the helicopter with his stupid boyfriend. Or riding his stupid boyfriend in his stupid helicopter. Whatever.”

“Oh my god, May is going to be so upset she couldn’t make it tonight,” Josh says, mostly to himself, as Eddie is still scowling into the middle distance as he thinks.

“Tommy, right?” Josh asks, taking a quick look back at his friends and deciding they’re having enough fun without him for a while.

Eddie doesn’t answer, but his scowl gets even deeper, so Josh figures he got it right. Motioning for the bartender at the thankfully slow counter, he orders a beer and a glass of water. When they get handed over, he takes a long sip of the beer and hands Eddie the water, glaring until he starts to sip it. He eyes Josh again, almost suspiciously, but he keeps drinking.

Josh rolls his eyes as he sees Eddie spot the bottle in his hand and raise his eyebrows.

“Gay guys can like shitty beer, too,” he says. “Not everything we drink has to be colorful and fruity.”

Eddie looks away at that, ashamed. “I like the fruity drinks,” he says, putting the empty water glass down on the bar and spinning to face Josh again, where he’s taken a seat on the stool beside him.

“Hmm,” Josh says. “Then what’s with all the empty whiskey glasses, bud?”

“Habit,” Eddie says, shrugging again. “It stops burning after like 3 glasses, anyway.”

“You are surprisingly coherent for how glassy your eyes are right now,” Josh says, mildly. “I’m gonna get you another water.”

“No,” Eddie says, reaching out and grabbing Josh’s wrist with one hand, grasping it firmly. “I don’t want to be sober yet.”

Josh looks down at the white-knuckled grip Eddie has on his wrist and gives him a placating smile.

“Ok,” he says, “no more water for Eddie, but no more drinks either. Deal?”

“Fine,” Eddie says with a huff. “I was gonna go home anyway.”

“I..” Josh starts, but Eddie waves his concern off.

“I took an Uber,” he says.

He stands up and immediately sways forward, stopping at the last second from falling directly into Josh by the large hand pressed against his chest.

“Easy,” Josh says, guiding Eddie back onto the stool. “Stay right here for a minute, ok?”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t make a move to get up, so Josh takes it as a win. He take a few minutes to explain to the increasingly tipsy bachelorette party that he needs to bring his sometimes-frenemy home before he drunkenly walks into traffic. They boo him good naturedly, but he ignores it in favor of rushing back to Eddie, who looks like he’s going to tilt off the bar stool onto the floor.

“Alright, cowboy,” Josh says, easing Eddie up onto his feet and slinging an arm across his back to support him, “lets get you home.”

“How’d you know I was from Texas?” Eddie asks, blinking over at Josh in confusion.

“I didn’t,” Josh says, shaking his head in amusement, “but so much about that makes sense.”

“Did you know the old-timey cowboys were like.. mostly gay?” Eddie asks, letting himself be half dragged away even as Josh’s co-workers cat-call after them. He doesn’t recognize any of them, and wonders where Maddie is, but the thought is pushed from his head as they hit the fresh air as Josh pulls them outside.

“I did, actually,” Josh says. “You meet a lot of gay cowboys back in Texas?”

Eddie snorts derisively and shakes his head. “Just the one.”

“Yeah?” Josh asks, walking them slowly down the long sidewalk to his parked car. “He make it out of there ok?”

Eddie shrugs and looks away, his face an unappealing mix of flushed red and sickly pale. Josh really hopes he doesn’t puke in his car.

“Jury’s still out,” Eddie says after a delayed pause. “Hey, where are we going?” he asks, suddenly seeming to realize they’re on the move.

“We’re going to my car,” Josh says, “and then I’m gonna drop you off at home and make sure you don’t fall asleep on your back.”

“That’s nice,” Eddie says, quietly. “Do you know where I live?”

“Do you know where you live?” Josh asks, because no, no he does not know where Eddie lives.

“That way, pretty sure,” Eddie says, waving an arm in a general westward direction.

Josh sighs as they finally reach the car, and he gets Eddie buckled in before grabbing his phone and using Eddie’s face to unlock it.

“Uber will know where you live,” he explains when Eddie looks at him with confusion at the theft.

“Right,” Eddie says, nodding seriously before giving Josh a drunken smile. “You’re like…smart and stuff.”

“Nobody will ever believe you actually said something nice about me,” Josh says as he buckles himself in. “Which is really unfair.”

Eddie just cackles to himself and in the next moment he’s asleep, head lolling against the window in a way that Josh just knows is going to fuck up his neck.

“Maddie is absolutely going to hear all about this,” he says to the sleeping Eddie.

Eddie just sleeps on.

The ride takes a while even at 2AM, because Los Angeles traffic never stops, and by the time Josh pulls in front of the address Eddie had in his Uber profile, he hopes it’s the right one because his own energy is flagging.

It’s an adventure in wrangling a six foot toddler to get the keys from Eddie’s jeans and get them both into the house without too much noise or stumbling, but they finally manage, and Josh drops Eddie onto the couch without fanfare before going off in search of water.

When he returns with a bottle of water in his hand, Eddie is sitting up on the couch, looking surprisingly alert for someone who was so recently unconscious.

“So I didn’t have a really weird dream,” Eddie says, accepting the uncapped water with a nod of thanks and draining half of it in one go.

“You dream about me, Diaz?” Josh can’t help but tease, now that Eddie doesn’t seem quite so far gone.

“You wish,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Ah yes,” Josh says dryly, moving to sit on the coffee table across from Eddie, “my life is just one long pining hope that Eddie Diaz thinks of me when he closes his pretty eyes at night.”

Eddie snorts, choking slightly on the water he’d just sipped, and glares before giving Josh a delighted grin.

“You think I have pretty eyes!” he crows. “Admit it.”

“Good lord,” Josh says, “I literally just did. You were here.”

“Heh,” Eddie says, appeased. “Yeah I was.”

Before Josh can say anything else, Eddie pushes himself to his feet and heads down the hall.

“Gotta piss,” he says, walking completely normally as he goes. If Josh didn’t know any better, he’d never be able to guess Eddie had drunk even half as much as he had earlier.

Eddie leaves his phone on the couch and it lights up with dozens of missed texts and calls, and Josh can’t help but take a quick look at the screen. They’re almost all from Buck, and even though Josh doesn’t click on anything to get a better look, the text preview is enough to make him pull out his own phone.

Please just let me know you’re ok, Eds.

He texts Buck the short version of finding Eddie at the bar and making sure he got home safely, and that he won’t leave until he’s sure Eddie can be left alone. Buck responds almost immediately with a relieved thank you, and Josh promises to fill him tomorrow if need be, before sticking his phone back into his own pocket as he hears the bathroom sink turn off.

“So,” Eddie says, smelling like toothpaste and as he heaves a sigh and drops down onto the couch again. “That was pretty embarrassing. Any chance you don’t tell everyone what a mess I am?”

“Depends,” Josh says.

“On?” Eddie asks, glaring just enough that Josh doesn’t even feel bad about teasing him.

“On if you tell me what the hell all that was about,” Josh says. “Because I know from Maddie that you and Tommy are friends, so no way was this little bender about your boyfriend having a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Eddie huffs, crossing his arms against his chest but falling back against the couch again in a slump. “And no, I wasn’t drinking because of them. I was drinking because I’m an idiot.”

“Ok,” Josh says, not bothering to argue. “But you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Oh fuck you,” Eddie says, groaning and closing his eyes momentarily.

“I don’t fuck closet cases,” Josh says in a moment of sheer adrenaline that he’s sure he will regret later. He tenses, waiting for Eddie to start yelling at him to leave, or on the small chance he might take a swing at him. But all that happens is that Eddie bursts into laughter, shaking with it as tears start rolling down his face.

“That’s fair,” he says once he’s regained his composure. “God, am I that obvious?”

Josh, still stunned at the lack of anger, just gives a sympathetic shrug.

“Chris asked, you know?” Eddie says, sitting back up and leaning forward on his knees. “Before I fucked everything up and he went to Texas to live with my parents. He asked me point blank if I even liked women, because I was a ‘really bad boyfriend’ to them.”

“Yikes,” Josh says. “Teenagers are savage.”

“You’re telling me,” Eddie says. “And I couldn’t even argue with him. And then he was gone and he still refuses to talk to me when I call, and Marisol understandably never wants to see me again, and Kim was like a fever dream and I just…I don’t know how to be a person anymore.”

“Eddie,” Josh says, gently. He doesn’t understand half of what Eddie is talking about, but figures it doesn’t really matter.

“Not sure I ever really did,” Eddie continues. “the only thing I’ve ever gotten right was being Chris’ dad, and now I’m not even that.”

“Of course you are,” Josh says. “He doesn’t stop being your son just because he’s pissed at you. He’ll come around eventually.”

“I know,” Eddie sighs sadly, looking down at his lap for a moment and wringing his hands together. “But it doesn’t feel like it.”

Josh hums in sympathy and they sit for a long few minutes in almost-comfortable silence, unsure which of them should speak first.

“So,” Josh ventures when he can’t take the silence any longer. “You want to talk about the whole closet case thing?”

“Not really,” Eddie says, before giving Josh an appraising look. “If I admit it, then I’m not in the closet, right?”

“Technically,” Josh allows.

“So would you fuck me if I asked?” Eddie asks, looking over at Josh with a clear and curious gaze.

“Oh boy,” Josh says, eyes widening. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

Eddie frowns slightly, as if he too hadn’t planned this out so far.

“Why not?”

“Eddie,” you can’t just ask your one gay friend if they want to fuck you,” Josh says. “It’s homophobic or something.”

“You’re not my only gay friend. And how is it homophobic if I want to get fucked?” Eddie asks. “You’re a good looking guy, and almost definitely not a serial killer. And ok, maybe I don’t know what I’m doing so much, but I can learn.”

“I feel a little bit like I’m going insane right now,” Josh says, honestly. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot as hell. But sex would be a very bad idea.”

“Fine,” Eddie says, huffing but settling back against the couch once again. “How am I supposed to know if I’m actually gay, then?”

“I’m getting a migraine,” Josh says, rubbing his forehead briefly. “if you have to ask the question, I think you already know the answer.”

“Ugh,” Eddie says. “I liked it better before I knew you were smart.”

“This is such a weird night,” Josh says to the room at large, before turning back to Eddie. “If you really want to try hooking up with guys, I can help you find the good apps and the safe places, ok?”

“Ok,” Eddie says, nodding.

Josh foolishly thinks that will be the end of it and he’s about to get up when Eddie pins him with another look.

“Would you kiss me?” he asks. “If you don’t mind being a test subject. Nothing handsy, just a normal kiss.”

Josh thinks about it for a long moment, before shrugging and nodding.

“Sure,” he says, moving to sit on the couch next to Eddie instead of across from him. “But just a kiss. Friends can kiss.”

“Are we friends now?” Eddie asks, with a flirty smirk that makes Josh flush more than he cares to admit.

“You’re ridiculous,” Josh says, before leaning in and kissing Eddie soundly on his stupid smug mouth.

Eddie gasps into it, as if he hadn’t expected Josh to actually do it, but gets with the program quickly, letting Josh lead the series of closed mouth kisses that follow, closing his eyes and leaning back against the arm of the couch, one hand grasped in Josh’s shirt, the stupid feather boa tickling his skin where it drapes over him.

“Doing ok?” Josh asks as he pulls away, looking pleased at Eddie’s flushed skin and kiss-swelled lips.

“So ok,” Eddie says, pulling Josh forward by the shirt. “Maybe you can come a little closer though?”

“You’re a goddamn menace,” Josh says, before pushing Eddie down gently and settling atop him, between his spread knees.

“You seem to like it,” Eddie says, shifting just enough that Josh can’t deny the fact that he’s hard in his jeans just from making out for a few minutes.

To be fair, he thinks to himself, so is Eddie.

“A hot menace,” Josh says, groaning as Eddie gets adventurous and ruts his hips up so that their groins brush together, “but a menace.”

“Shh,” Eddie says, “kiss me again.”

Josh does, falling into the kisses willingly, dragging his tongue across Eddie’s bottom lip before tugging at it lightly with his teeth. Eddie’s hands have migrated to the back of his shirt now, clutching and holding Josh close as they kiss and grind against each other. Eddie tosses his head back as Josh angles his hips just right and shoots a bolt of pleasure up his spine, and Josh takes the opportunity to suck at his neck, licking the salt from his skin as he goes.

“Can you come like this?” Eddie asks, looking up at Josh with wild eyes. “Because I think I’m going to.”

Josh has to laugh, burying his face into Eddie neck as he does.

“Yeah,” he says dryly, “I think I can manage to get off with the hottest guy I know. It’s a real burden to bear, but I’ll manage.”

“Then quit sassing me and catch up,” Eddie huffs, pushing one hand up into Josh’s hair to grip and lead him back to his mouth, hooking one leg up and across Josh’s waist.

“You’re the worst,” Josh says, stuttering as Eddie pulls his hair just a little too meanly, making him slump down heavily as he comes, rutting mindlessly as he rides it out.

“Ditto,” Eddie says, crying out as he follows him a few moments later, a thrill going through him at Josh’s solid weight holding him down as he falls apart.

It’s not until they’ve both caught their breath that he remembers the name he’d said had most definitely not been Josh.

It’s not awkward until it is, and they get cleaned up in companionable enough silence, side by side in the little bathroom, washcloths thrown into the hamper to deal with later. The sun is just barely starting to rise outside, and Eddie frowns at it through the window as Josh helps himself to a bottle of water and offers another to Eddie. He declines.

“Any chance you didn’t hear that?” Eddie asks, leaning against his kitchen counter and looking over at Josh with hopeful eyes.

Josh laughs and shakes his head.

“Pretty sure they heard you calling Buck’s name on the moon,” he says, shrugging.

“Am I in love with Buck?” Eddie asks, looking over at Josh with panicked eyes.

Josh looks back with equal panic, eyes wide and confused.

“Wait, did you not know? I thought that was what this whole sexuality crisis was about!”

“I’ve been gay a lot longer than I’ve known Buck,” Eddie says, still looking terrified. “What am I going to do?”

“I mean,” Josh says, “you had no problem propositioning me. You could just tell him how you feel.”

“He has a boyfriend,” Eddie says. “Even if I was ready to face… all of that.”

“That boy thinks you hung the stars in the sky,” Josh says, seriously. “If you asked him to be with you, he’d drop anything and anyone to do so.”

“But Tommy…” Eddies says, before Josh interrupts.

“Is a grown man who will deal with a breakup like an adult,” Josh says. “All you need to do is tell Buck how you feel, and he’ll wait forever for you if he has to.”

Eddie goes to reach for his phone on the counter and Josh gestures for him to freeze.

“Maybe not at 5 in the morning,” he says. “He’ll think you’re hurt and panic.”

“Fuck,” Eddie says, with a sigh. “you’re right.”

“Go to bed,” Josh says, “get at least 4 solid hours of sleep. And then you can call Buck and you two can get married and have babies or whatever it is you want to do.”

Eddie shakes his head but laughs before pulling Josh into a hug that feels far too bro-y considering what they got up to.

“Thanks,” Eddie says as he pulls away. “For taking care of me even though we were barely friends.”

“Yeah, well,” Josh says awkwardly, “it was fun?”

“It was,” Eddie says, grinning. “Lets never do it again.”

“Definitely not,” Josh agrees with a relieved laugh.

He lets himself out, more than ready to go home to his own bed and sleep like the dead. Being a reluctant Gay Yoda is hard work, he deserves the rest.

A week later he gets a text from Eddie with a picture that loads slowly in ironically shitty cell service at work, and he squints at it as it becomes clear. In it, Buck is leaning back against Eddie’s couch, shirtless and grinning widely, the white feather boa that Josh had lost somewhere along the way draped around his neck dramatically. The ends of it are wrapped around a tanned hand, not unlike a cowboy holds his horse’s reins.

You’re not getting this back.

“Fuckin’ menace,” Josh says under his breath, before tapping the photo to leave a heart, shaking his head at his idiotic friends, and getting back to work.

THE END

[aries-rp-corner]

As Baron drifted off to sleep, he felt himself floating in the air waking up to find himself facing a watery surface. Swimming up as he emerges and climbed out, looking around to see a familiar starry sky, a sea of trees, and orbs gliding in the sky…making him feel a deep longing to fly again… “Nasrin… Did I die in my sleep?” He asked as he turned over to face the woman, only to find she is not here….

“Nasrin? Nasrin!” He called out, looking around to see if he can find her… until spotting a figure in the distance. Walkng over closer and closer to see… “No…you can’t be… Cornelius?!” Baron began to shake and run to the figure, tears streaming down as he ran with his might. “Brother! Cornelius! I’m sorry! I know you told me to protect Mom and my family! But I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you!” Baron cried out, reaching out his hand to grab his brother for one final hug… only… now he found himself tripping and meeting the water again…only now it feels like mud as it was dragging him down. “No! No no no NO!! Not again! Let me speak to him!!” He cried out now fighting to run pass the Lake of Stars to reach his brother. “Please!… Let me speak to him! One last time! Please!!” He held out his hand to try to grab something…anything!…

Baron felt a hand holding his, looking to see his brother. Giving a supportive smile as it soon turned into a goofy grin. Yet…there was sadness within it as Cornelius’s face softened. “I left Aries a message for her, you, and Mah in it. I forgot to tell this to Hana, my fault there…which is I’m going to say it now. Baron, don’t stay earthbound forever. Use those wings of yours to fly once more! Go forth with no fear, and go forth with swift justice! Just like the old times! Show them and Aries why I, our family , and the rest of the Rangers called you The Silver Comet. Never be bound by sorrow, I did it so Aries won’t have the heartache of losing two people she loved dearly… Use those wings to soar in the sky once again. Morning is coming little brother…and so is my message. Take to the skies as a way to remember me. I love you.”

Baron had tears falling more, before he was about to question him Baron found himself sinking back down as his hand was freed. Falling into darkness once more… looking up to see the stars fading, yet he didn’t feel fear…but a desire to fly. Smiling warmly as he shut his eyes, feeling at peace after so long. Now awakened with a soft gasp as he looked at the ceiling, and looked over to see a sleeping Rina. “….Cornelius….” Baron whispered, looking over to the alarm clock to see its almost dawn. Feeling the determination to fly once again.

Quietly getting up as he grabbed his tools and equipment. After that, he quickly called his Uncle… “Hugo, you awake?” Baron softly asked as the Blacksmith barked out.

“BOY!! It’s 5 in the Morning!! Rina told me you were asleep! Go back to bed and wait for ya daughter!” Shouted the tired and angry Blacksmith, “And I thought my shift was coming up next week to make sure she’ll respond back!”

“I know! But there is something I want to ask! Would you like to help me fix my glider? I’ll explain everything when you get here! But please keep it down!” Baron sheepishly spoke in return. Keeping his voice down to not wake up his wife, but also covering his phone thanks to the outburst.

“….Fine. Let me grab my equipment and tools. And sorry for the shouting there…I’m tired lad…but honestly, I think we all are…including Aries. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” Hugo was honestly tired and angry he was waken up, but he know Baron long enough if something comes up…especially the stress and worry.

The two hanged up as Baron raced over to his barn, opening the doors to see something under the tarp. Carefully removing it to reveal his wind powered glider, now dusty and possibly some damage within it due to not using it anymore. “Alright Core, one last time in the sky… for you and everyone. Like the old days. The Silver Comet shall Sore the Skies once again.”

[greenbagjosh]

Day 12 - 12 November 2003 - Hong Kong Repulse Bay, Stanley, Aberdeen, Tseung Kwan O, Kowloon, and Tung Chung

Wednesday 12 November 2003

On Wednesday 12th November 2003, I decided not to have breakfast at the hotel. I wanted to try something local, but the menus were in Chinese and I could not find anywhere suitable, other than either McDonalds or 7-Eleven. I settled on McDonald's, and the breakfast was not much different than in the USA. Also I added more value to the Octopus card at 7-Eleven, I think around US$ 30.00, plenty of money for a full day's fares on the bus.

After breakfast, I walked to Des Voeux Road to take the trolley to the Sheung Wan MTR subway station to go one stop to Central. At Central there is a bus terminal for the city busses. I had to wait fifteen minutes for a direct bus to Repulse Bay which cost about $0.75 with the Octopus card. The bus went along Des Voeux Road past Admiralty subway station, on to Queensway, Stubbs Road where it became Wong Nai Chung Gap Road and Repulse Bay Road. Coming down the hill to Repulse Bay beach, the bus passed by the Hong Kong Tennis Centre.

At the Repulse Bay beach, the main attraction is 109 Repulse Bay Road, where there is a building that has a large gap, eliminating six floors for part of the building. After that, there is a stairway to the beach, where hardly anyone was there. I stayed there for about five minutes. I think the beach was two square miles. There was a large digital clock that would sometimes show the temperature, and at the time, it showed 22 C which is about 71 F. Too cold for any serious swimming.

I took another bus to the Stanley Market. Stanley Market is a single-level mall, with probably two hundred independent vendors, selling clothes, electronics, jewelry, and so much more. If you look on Google Maps, and look up Stanley Market, you can use the Street View mode, to look inside the market (faces are blocked). I bought a silk handkerchief with a chain-link pattern. Most of the staff spoke English well enough. After Stanley Market, I went to the Wellcome [sic] grocery store at 88 Stanley Village Road to buy some lunch items. I remember buying a jar of vegemite, that yeasty and salty spread. And a box of bag tea. One thing that caught my eye, the Hong Kong authorities made a poster against SARS, with a warning in traditional Chinese and English, to people not to spit in public, but rather expectorate into some tissue, or face a HK$ 5,000 fine, approx US $ 600.00. SARS is no joke.

I found a bus line that went directly from Stanley Market to Aberdeen, passing by the Repulse Bay tower that had the gap. The ride took about twenty minutes and cost maybe $ 1.50 on the Octopus card. The bus went past Sham Wan. Aberdeen has many high-rise apartments, is more built up than Stanley Village. I walked along the Aberdeen Promenade, and when walking back to the bus stop for Kennedy Town, I saw a bird in a cage but no human was around to attend to it. Since my visit in 2003, there was a subway line opened in 2016 called the South Island line, that connects Admiralty to Aberdeen via Wong Chuk Hang and Ocean Park.

After Aberdeen, I took a bus to Ngau Tao Kok northeast of Kowloon, I think the bus fare was $ 2.50 including the fee for using an underground tunnel. Then I would start my subway adventure as far as Tseung Kwan O at Junk Bay. I boarded the Kwun Tong Line at Ngau Tao Kok for Tiu Keng Leng and further along to Tseung Kwan O with its eponymous line. At Tseung Kwan O I explored around for a few minutes, it was about as built up as Aberdeen but did not have any farther MRT extension to Po Lam or LOHAS park until about 2009. At Tseung Kwan O, I called back to the USA on a payphone. I had to ask for change as the phones accepted only HK$1 coins and I was out at the time. I took then the Tseung Kwan O line to North Point to connect to the Island Line for Central/Hong Kong. I wanted then to go to Tung Chung on Lantau Island. MTR stations on the Island Line at the time, did not have protective doors. Also on some of the Tsuen Wan line stations between Sham Shui Po to Lai King, there were also no such doors. Some stations however did, but only those that were underground.

Although Central and Hong Kong were physically in the same location on Hong Kong Island, they were classified as two separate subway stations, mainly for the distance that one has to walk between the two. There are two entry points for Hong Kong station, one for the Tung Chung line, and one for the Airport Express line that does not stop except at Tsing Yi. My Octopus card did not include the ride for the airport except a one-way ride, and I did not want to use it that day. My only other option was to use the slightly slower Tung Chung line. The train did not stop at the time, at Sunny Bay or Nam Cheong. It stopped at Kowloon, Olympic, Lai King, Tsing Yi and Tung Chung. Between Tsing Yi and Tung Chung, the train went very fast, right next to the Airport Express tracks. I exited the train at Tung Chung, and was hungry. I found some sandwich store at Skyline Gateway. After eating, I went to the Citygate outlets to buy more bag tea. The Wellcome store that I visited, had a "wet market" in the basement, where you could buy fresh fish and seafood. I was tempted to buy some but didn't. I bought a few magazines in traditional Chinese and I have some of them still today. After shopping, I took the Tung Chung subway line to Tsing Yi, where I wanted to try to take the Airport Express back to Hong Kong station but there was only an exit for Hong Kong and entry to the airport but no entry to the Hong Kong station. I strolled the mall for a half hour before taking the Tung Chung line to Lai King, and I took the Tsuen Wan line to Mong Kok, right in the middle of Kowloon. Kowloon, particularly along Nathan Road, is where the most lighted signs can be seen. I think the time was 7 PM and the sun had set. Nathan Road was very busy with people.

After Kowloon, I wanted to see how close to Sheung Shui I could get. You can't go to Lo Wu without a visa for the PRC, so Sheung Shui is the closest. I took the Kwun Tong line from Mong Kok to Kowloon Tong to board the East Rail line. In 2003, the East Rail line was not part of the MTR subway and thus the fare was not included and had to be deducted from the Octopus card. If you travel in first class, the fare is about US $10. On the East Rail line, I decided not to go any farther than the University station. It was about five stations prior to arriving at the PRC border. I spent about fifteen minutes around the University station before taking the East Rail line back to Hong Kong Island with the Kwun Tong, Tsuen Wan and Island lines.

After the Island line train reached Sheung Wan, that was the last of the subway rides. I took the trolley along Des Voeux road to Hill Road and bought some curry buns and Sprite and ate them at the hotel. I had to pack up for the next leg of the journey. It was short and I wished I could stay longer.

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 5: Logan's

Jericho was behind them, the familiar glow of lights from above the treeline growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. The classic rock station on the radio became garbled with every mile, eventually dissolving into complete static, drenching the space between them in silence. Jesse seemed content to stew in his own thoughts, his face almost completely impassive except for a single crease worried between his golden brows. Evaine could only stare out the window as they drove, making note of street signs and landmarks as she tried to figure out exactly where they were going, her mind swimming with a mess of chaotic thoughts and questions, none of them quite able to summon the fear she knew was deserving of the situation. 

Their destination turned out to be a little roadside bar out in the middle of nowhere, hidden behind the building of a gas station convenience store where no passersby would be able to see it without going out of their way. There were no signs or advertisements as would be expected from a place of business, and in fact the only reason Evaine knew it had to be a bar was a notice posted beside the door which read “No patrons under the age of 21” alongside a quotation of the local liquor laws. There were only a few cars and bikes parked along the dirt lot out front, and over the entry there was a dirt and moss caked sign which read LOGAN’S.

One hour, forty-five minutes. Evaine took a deep breath to steady herself as she read the clock on the dash. Almost home.

“Remember when you said you’d follow my lead?” Jesse asked as they pulled into the lot, effectively cutting off their view of the main road. He seemed just as cool and collected as ever on the outside, but his tone had taken on an added measure of caution and control. 

“Yeah?” Evaine answered as a question, feeling a pang of anxiety as she looked up at the building just outside the window. She didn’t know what made her more nervous: walking into a room full of people while she looked like such a mess, or whatever it was that had suddenly put Jesse on edge.

Jesse shut off the car and twisted in his seat to face her, opening his mouth to speak before something about her caught his attention. His eyes narrowed and darkened, his mouth clamping shut with a definitive click, and he reached out to touch the space just behind her left ear. His touch sent a shock of cold that zapped from her neck all the way down her spine, and when he pulled his hand away, his fingers bore a smear of blood that she had left behind from her efforts to clean up. Evaine sucked in a small breath at the sight of it, a brief wave of nausea swirling over her, but Jesse seemed to come back to himself at the sound and quickly closed his fist over the blood, offering her a small twitch of an almost remorseful smile.

“You look like sharkbait,” he said, hinting at some joke that Evaine was in no space of mind to comprehend. “Listen, just do me a favor and try to keep your head down, don’t look anyone in the eye, don’t speak to anyone. This crowd isn’t so good with strangers…or boundaries. We’re going to make this as fast as possible; I don’t want to linger any longer than necessary.”

She couldn’t agree more with that plan, although his warning left her curious as to what sort of people warranted that level of caution. Sharkbait, he called her. If he thought she was the bait, were they the sharks?

As they left the car, Jesse taking the lead walking toward the entrance, the sounds of chatter and clinking glasses wafted out through the open windows. It sounded much like a bar should, if a little quiet for a Friday night, and yet Jesse’s shoulders were tensely set as they approached the door, his jaw clenched hard enough that Evaine could see the muscle working below his skin. What the hell was going on?

“Stay close,” he instructed, reaching one arm across her to bridge the distance between them, bringing her flush against his side. He had no warmth to give her, and beneath the smell of old blood, wet dirt, and new car, there was something musky and withered that she couldn’t quite place. “Whatever you do, try not to stare.”

Evaine nodded without giving much thought to his actual words, still caught off guard by the casual way he had touched her without warning; it made her feel unsteady on her own two feet, unsure of what to do with her hands or where to direct her gaze. No time to fret about it, however, as Jesse pushed open the door of the bar, sending an abrupt hush through a room which had been full of voices a moment ago.

Forgetting his warning, Evaine reflexively cast her eyes about the room, taking in the scattered display of tables and chairs, booths lining the walls under low-hanging lamps, the polished bartop and shelves of glittering bottles against the back wall. There couldn’t have been more that twenty or so people, sitting or standing around—Evaine was sure her classes at school were more crowded than this—but she didn’t get a chance to take a closer look before Jesse moved ahead of her, angling his body so he was partially covering her own, and she remembered she was meant to be keeping her head down. She let her eyes drop to stare at the hardwood floor and kept pace as the two of them entered the bar.

As they moved forward, the voices tentatively resumed their conversations, but the cadence was different from before, the words more hushed and secretive. She caught just enough “who is that” and “look at the blood” that she knew everyone was talking about them. It was a strange feeling, considering most people in Jericho never looked at her twice, and to suddenly be thrust into the center of attention made her skin prickle with awareness of all the eyes on her. She felt vulnerable even as she cowered behind Jesse’s form, altogether exposed to their scrutiny.

They hadn’t gotten five steps into the room, just passing the nearest table, when a foot suddenly shot out in Evaine’s path, obviously meaning to trip her. Because she had already been looking down, she was spared from a full-on tumble, but still took a stuttering step to catch herself, grasping at Jesse’s arm for balance.

“I’m so sor—” she began to say in a knee-jerk reaction, looking up to see who’s foot she had just accosted, but the words caught in her throat as she met the eyes of the person sitting at the table. 

Yellow eyes. Glowing yellow. The seemingly human face below those eyes split into a grin as if the man they belonged to knew what she was thinking and delighted in her shock.  Sitting across the table from him was a woman who seemed more irritated by the interruption, and she tapped her long, sharpened nails against the wood surface in an impatient tempo. No, not nails. Bones, Evaine realized with a horrified gasp; the tips of pure bone were growing from the woman’s knuckles, filed down into perfect spikes at the ends.

Jesse’s grip around her waist suddenly tightened, dragging her back to his side as he quickly put space between them and the odd pair at the table. Evaine clamped her jaw shut to hold back the barrage of questions threatening to burst out of her, or perhaps it was just a long overdue scream of fright that was now stuck in her throat.

“Stay cool,” Jesse reminded her in a low murmur. They had reached the bar at the far end of the room, and he pulled out a stool for her. “Have a seat; I haven't seen my friend just yet.”

Evaine did as he said, her hands shaky and uncoordinated as she gripped the edge of the stool. She had been perfectly fine just a moment ago, dealing with the sudden violence of the evening as well as could be expected, but now it seemed she was deteriorating into full-blown hallucinations as her mind struggled to make sense of those yellow eyes, those bone fingers. She wanted to cry for the want to go home, to laugh at the absurdity of it all, to scream into the faces of everyone who still stared at her “What the hell is going on? How are you not freaking out?” It was only Jesse’s steady presence beside her that kept her rooted to her seat rather than bolting out the door.

“Logan, how goes it?” Jesse said to the man standing on the other side of the bartop, his voice far more pleasant than it had been a moment ago.

Following his gaze, Evaine found the bartender standing across from them, and she had to lean back to get a full view of him. He was a great beast of a man, taller than the average person by two heads, with a mane of brown and gray hair loosely tied at the nape of his neck. She couldn’t tell where his beard ended and his chest hair began as all of it was spilling out the collar and sleeves of his stained yellow shirt. He was looking down at her, his honey-colored eyes sharply focused on her as she shrank before him. Everything about his face that might indicate his mood or attitude was hidden by that forest of hair.

“Well, well…what have you brought me, Mr. Rayne?” the bartender asked, his voice as broad as a boulder rumbling through his cavernous chest. His eyes moved away from her face to look over her blood-matted hair, the smears of red by her ears where she couldn’t quite wipe it all away.

“My patronage and nothing more,” Jesse replied casually enough, but Evaine was able to recognize the thin line of tension that hinted at a warning. “The lady is my guest.”

“You’re no fun,” Logan said, his teasing tone coming out more like the echo of distant thunder than anything friendly or endearing.

Jesse laughed for a moment and shook his head, seeming to accept Logan’s humor as innocent, and his golden hair released a few flakes of red with the motion of it. “Hey, have you seen Louis around?”

“He called earlier to hold a table. Haven’t seen him,” Logan answered with a shrug that made his hair audibly ripple. 

Evaine listened to them speaking back and forth to each other like perfectly comfortable friends, and she finally started to relax. Nothing would really be okay until they were in the car and headed back to Jericho, but at least for the moment, nothing bad was happening.

One hour, forty minutes.

“Excuse me, miss?”

The voice came from just beside her, opposite from where Jesse stood, and Evaine felt herself instinctively freeze to keep from looking over. She finally believed that he had been right to tell her to keep her head down, and she didn’t care how rude it made her seem—she was going to ignore everyone but him until they were out of the bar.

“Miss?” the voice said again, more insistent this time.

It was much harder to ignore when the newcomer seemed to be demanding her attention, so she looked to Jesse, hoping that he would intervene on her behalf, but he wasn’t looking at her. He didn’t seem to have noticed the speaker at all, which felt impossible as their voice was so loud in her ear. He continued his conversation with Logan, oblivious to the presence on her other side.

“Young lady, you look at me when I’m talking to you!” the voice boomed, echoing from one ear to the other like a punch to the brain. It was only then, when she reacted in fear while nobody else seemed to notice, that Evaine realized the voice had been in her head the entire time.

She opened her mouth to call out to Jesse for help, but the words caught in her throat when a thin hand snaked into view, grasping her by the chin with nails that dug into her cheeks. It forced her head to turn toward the newcomer who had been speaking to her in her mind, and her stomach almost dropped right out of her.

The creature sitting beside her was the cruel imitation of a woman with skin so pale that it verged on blue, hanging on her skeleton without an ounce of true flesh. Her inky black hair draped around her shoulders in two oily curtains, and her smile was far too big without any gums to speak of. The most unsettling part, Evaine thought, was the twin empty hollows in her skull where her eyes should have been, just two craters like the skin there was being sucked in toward her brain.

“Hello, little flower,” the woman said out loud, her voice sounding filtered and far away. The hand on Evaine’s face dragged down, light as running water, until her thin fingers brushed against her throat. The sharp taste of acid climbed up toward her mouth in response. “Such a cruel thing to ruin this pretty neck…what kind of heartless beast…”

The face of the man outside the monster house flashed through her mind, his strong hands crushing her throat, slowly squeezing the life out of her. In a flurry of panic, Evaine snatched the hand at her throat and tore it away. Surprise flickered across the other woman’s grotesque face, but Evaine refused to release her wrist, gripping it with all the strength she had, sure she would leave nail marks before the panic could subside.

Jesse seemed to have finally taken notice of what was happening, but Evaine could barely hear whatever he was saying while her own blood rushed in her ears, filled with her terror of the woman, but more so at the images and feelings resurfacing by such a brazen touch of her neck. She would claw that memory out with her bare hands if she could.

“Do not…touch…me,” she ground out through clenched teeth. Where Jesse had been so good at hiding subtle warnings in his polite words, she let her threat ring loud and clear, hanging in the air between them. 

The woman grinned, her long teeth filling up almost half of her face, before she retracted her hand with a little jerk. She stood up and began to walk away, her white slip of a dress barely clinging to her skeletal frame. 

She turned over her shoulder as she left, calling, “Good night…Miss Dawson.” Evaine was too upset, chest heaving with the rush of her anger and fear, to even wonder why the woman knew her name.

After she’d had a moment to take a deep breath and calm down from the encounter, Evaine righted herself on the barstool, surprised to see Logan leaning across the bar with one hand extended to stop Jesse from intervening as he’d apparently been about to. They were both frozen in shock, giving her the most incredulous of stares.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jesse said quickly, cutting off Logan who was also about to say something. He reached up to shove away the bartender’s hand since the danger had apparently passed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Braver than me,” Logan said with a surprised huff of laughter. It sounded as if he was trying to keep his voice low, but that wasn’t a realistic effort in his case. 

“Getting into trouble already, are we?” said a new voice from behind them.

“Hey, Louis,” Logan greeted with a nod of acknowledgement. 

Evaine only turned around when Jesse did, and the man standing there was thankfully ordinary, sharply dressed in a cobalt suit with a glittering gold watch and shiny leather shoes. His dark hair was cut in an expert fade, the top slicked back in an old-fashioned sort of style, his pride showing through the apparent effort. His eyes passed over her only for a moment, quickly looking away either out of politeness or disinterest, but it was long enough for Evaine to catch a glimpse of that same odd red glint as she had seen in Jesse’s eyes.

“Finally,” Jesse said, reaching out to shake the new man’s hand. “And not a minute too soon. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks,” Louis answered, reaching across the bar to extend a similar greeting to Logan. Evaine thought she heard an accent there, but it was faint enough that she couldn’t place it. “Who’s the bird?”

“Long story,” Jesse told him, shooting him a look that gave every indication that he didn’t want to be overheard. “We should sit.”

By way of invitation, Louis held out one hand in the direction of an empty booth off to the side, and Jesse tapped Evaine’s shoulder to tell her it was time to move. As they walked, Louis said to Logan, “A round, if you will.”

Jesse let Evaine slide into the booth first so that he could sit as a buffer between her and the rest of the room, and Louis took the seat across from them. Logan came right on their heels to drop off two glasses of something dark that reeked of alcohol, and a water for herself. Something about that struck her as funny, as if the legality of serving alcohol to minors was even a concern to a creature like Logan with such patrons as she’d seen so far. Still, it was nice to wrap her hands around the cold glass, letting the sensation ground her to reality while it felt like everything around her had turned to insanity.

Louis took a quick sip from his drink, giving it a little swirl to let the ice clink against the sides as he said, “I was surprised to get your call tonight; I figured you would have ditched the phone by now. Not worried about being tracked?”

“No, she made it very clear that she can find me whenever she chooses,” Jesse muttered against the rim of his own glass before he took a slow drink. “I thought I’d have a few days to get myself sorted, work out my next move before…well, the situation’s changed.”

“You mean she’s here?” Louis demanded, one corner of his lip curling back in an angry sort of snarl. He glanced down at Jesse’s bloodied clothes with new understanding. “What has she done now?”

Jesse opened his mouth to answer, but quickly stopped himself by snapping his jaw shut. He pressed one finger to his lips in a shh signal, then made a writing motion with his hand to ask for a pen.

Louis reached into his inner breast pocket to pull out a sleek black pen with gold lettering printed on the side, and he seemed sorry to hand it over. Jesse took it without noticing his friend’s expression, and then grabbed one of the napkins Logan had brought for their drinks. He didn’t bother shielding his note from Evaine as he wrote, even though he did angle himself to keep it secret from anyone who might happen to pass by their table.

Jensen Calloway is dead

He folded the napkin and passed it across the table to Louis, along with the pen. The other man took just as much care to read it in secret, seeming to go over the line again and again like he couldn’t quite make sense of it, and then his eyes widened with shock. It only lasted for a moment, however, and then he recomposed himself with a nervous grunt to clear his throat.

“I see,” he said, passing the note back like he wanted nothing more to do with it. 

Jesse picked up his glass to spill a little of the liquid over the napkin, watching as the words smeared and lost form until they were unreadable. Then, he and Louis both raised their glasses to clink in the middle, and they downed their drinks in one gulp each.

“How did it happen?” Louis asked when he set his glass down. His brow was knit in a stern expression as he pointedly avoided looking at the now soggy napkin sitting on the table.

“I’ll tell you everything somewhere a little more private,” Jesse promised, giving his friend a knowing look. “First and foremost, I need a cleaning crew up at the house as soon as possible. I did what I could, but I don’t even have running water, so my hands are kind of tied here.”

“Better for you to leave it alone. In fact, get a hotel for now; let my people handle it,” Louis said, reaching down to pull a cell phone from the pocket of his slacks. He tapped the screen a few times, then nodded to Jesse in confirmation. “They’re on their way. What about the girl?”

Evaine’s heart suddenly leapt into her throat, knowing the time had come to learn of her fate in all this. By the way Louis was refusing to look her way, by the conspiratorial tone of his voice, she feared that he was of a mind to dispose of the only witness to Jesse’s crime.

“The girl is here because…” Jesse’s eyes flicked once to Evaine, then quickly dropped to look down where his hands rested on the table. His fingers splayed and rubbed together like he was feeling for something on his skin, and he said, “He came to the house for me, but he dropped everything to take out some random kid passing through. All he did was touch her hand, and it was like he forgot all about me; turned his back, distracted, and that was that. Louis, you’ve always been more…perceptive than me, so I need you to touch her.”

“What?” Evaine blurted shrilly, remembering only at the last moment to watch her volume. Louis glanced at her with surprise as if it hadn’t occurred to him that she could speak until she deigned to interrupt. “That’s why I had to come out here with you? I could’ve been home by now!”

“Will you just trust me for a minute?” Jesse said in a scolding whisper, casting an eye at the other patrons of the bar to see if anyone had noticed the outburst. He took up a whisper when he spoke to Evaine, cupping his hand over the side of his face so that his words wouldn’t carry. “I saw enough of what happened to know that he wasn’t trying to hurt you until he touched your hand. I, for one, want to know why. Don’t you?”

Evaine fell quiet, not wanting to give him an inch of grace while she felt so hot tempered, but his decision to drag her along with him, to bring the matter to an impartial friend, the way he had interrogated her immediately after it happened suddenly made a lot more sense. It had been something about her that made that man try to kill her earlier, and it was the echo of his rough, hateful voice, “Say goodnight, freak” that kept her from arguing any further.

“Everything went down so fast, I had no idea what to do or what to make of it all,” Jesse continued to explain, this time to Louis. “When I touched her earlier, I thought there was something, but I’m not sure what to make of it. I figured that you might have an easier time of it.”

Louis arched an eyebrow, but with a teetering nod he seemed to accept Jesse’s logic. He turned to give Evaine his full attention for the first time, and extended his hand to her, knuckles littered with little lines of long-faded scars and the edge of a gold watch peeking from beneath his sleeve. “Miss…I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Please, allow me to be of assistance.”

Evaine uncertainly nodded her consent to the test, reaching out to accept his hand. His touch was too cold for the warm environment of the bar, but his grip was loose in a way that seemed meant to keep Evaine at ease. There was a long pause in which Louis closed his eyes and turned his ear toward her as if to listen to her breathing, and it felt eerily similar to that moment on the driveway of the monster house when Jesse had so intently examined her in the moonlight. Then, that moment passed and his eyes flew open with a look of surprise.

“That’s curse magic,” he concluded, tearing his hand away from her like he thought she might be contagious. “I don’t deal with curses, Jesse. Messy business.”

Evaine’s hand remained dangling in mid-air, too dumbfounded to move until she let it drop limply to the table. She couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a joke or not, even though the expression on Louis’ face was as serious as it had ever been. But it had to be a joke, or a code word of some kind, because there was no way he could have just said something as outlandish as curse magic and meant…magic. 

Yellow eyes. Bone nails. No eyes. Evaine gripped the cool glass of water in front of her once more as her head swam with nausea, struggling to make sense of the picture being laid out before her. No, she decided for herself, she had to be missing something, or perhaps they were. Magic wasn’t real, and even if there were such things as curses, there was no way it had anything to do with her. She was too ordinary, her life was too simple, and anything symptomatic of a curse would have stuck out like a sore thumb. She thought Jesse would have automatically come to the same conclusion, but there he was nodding his agreement with Louis.

“What does that mean?” she asked, her voice coming out as a meager whisper in her too-dry throat, but neither man seemed to hear her. Her grip on her water glass tightened as the anxiety danced across her nerves.

“Chelle might fare better in this matter, if you really want answers,” Louis was saying, and he offered his friend an apologetic wince at the mention of the name.

“What do you mean cur—”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Jesse said with a reluctant sigh, again unable to hear Evaine’s barely-there croak. “That, however, is a matter best saved for after we get that body off my lawn, but thanks for trying. Let’s get this night over with, shall we?”

There was a soft crunch and clinking as the water glass shattered under Evaine’s grip. The two men immediately froze as they had been preparing to depart, and they looked down at the water slowly spreading across the table top. 

Evaine looked down at her palm, a thin slice beginning to bloom red where the glass had cut her. She hadn’t even felt how tight her grip was, but her fingertips had gone completely white under the force of it, and there was an ache in her knuckles that was quickly overshadowed by the sharp sting of the cut. 

“Ow…” she said, more as an afterthought than from any real pain. She looked up to ask for a napkin, but stopped when she saw the expression on their faces.

They both stared openly at the small wound on her hand, at the blood that was barely enough to form a single droplet. Jesse’s jaw clenched tightly, and when he finally tore his eyes away, it was Louis that he sought out. Louis’s mouth hung slightly agape, the sharp points of his canines protruding past his lips. That strange red in the irises of his eyes was suddenly glaring and bright as if reflecting more light than the little lamp over their booth could give.

“Everything alright, friends?” came the cool rumble of Logan’s voice as he walked up to the table. He had a spray bottle in hand which he instantly used to squirt down the table, the solution within filling the air with a sharp chemical smell. He pulled a fresh looking rag from over his shoulder and handed it Evaine, and she gratefully used it to cover her hand.

“You good, Louis?” Jesse asked, speaking his friend’s name a little sharply.

Louis cleared his throat and patted down his suit jacket to compose himself. He nodded briskly, but didn’t open his mouth to speak again, his eyes pointedly looking away from Evaine.

“Good,” Logan said, casting a glance over his shoulder at the other bar patrons. Only a few people had seemed to notice the disturbance, but they were trying to be discreet about their interest. “Get that bleeder out of my bar or we won’t have peace very long.”

“You’re right about that,” Jesse said, following his line of sight. He finally turned back to address Evaine and said, “I know you want answers, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but for right now we need to leave. Can you just trust me for a little longer?”

Evaine gripped the rag against her hand as she looked into his dark pleading eyes, eyes glinting that same red that warned her of a nature far beyond her realm of comfort, and she nodded.

[jacks-tracks]

Day tripper

Having sat on my ass for 2 months, i suddenly realized that i needed to get out to the remote beaches. The Hot Springs was so good trip that it motivated me.

Agua Blanca, an empty beach stretches for miles south,broken only by a lagoon/inflow(sign: no swimming /crocodiles). That's where I usually stop for bird watching before returning to the palapa restaurant perhaps a mile each way. The beach, flat and hot , runs south towards Chila a t last 10 miles away. There are usually a few local fisherman hand casting off a set of rocks, using bleach bottle reels, and tiny fish for bait. Yes they often do catch fish, small silver surf feeders, occasionaly a bigger predator drawn to the bait. Seems like an inef ficient way to fish, but the cost is minimal. Gringoes surf casting with long poles and spinning reels, do no better, perhaps because they are using lures. The rock outcrops used to be loaded with oysters( a big deal here, half shell) but have been fished out, and now oysters are imported from further south and set in tide pools in gunny sacks till needed. Personally I see oysters as slugs in a shell ever since I was challenged to eat one by BC Hydros manager, but that's another story.

No crocodiles in sight, but lots of wading birds, which I take as a no crocodile sign. No haul out tracks in the mangroves either. There a re increasing numbers of crocs on the coast, with one flushed out of the Rio Stinko on to Marinero beach last year to the dismay of tourists. I,ve never seen one outside of the croc farm at Chacahua, and after having a 5 meter croc crash into the fence in pursuit of a dog that was following us(next to the gate tied with a bit of string!), I,ve not wanted to see any.

Did flush a small flock of blue ducks, possibly blue winged teal. They flew a tight formation up the lagoon, flashing sky blue shoulder patches. Didn,t mean to spook them, but they saw me first. The waders are herons, non descript, several varieties. The scummy weeded inshore water is loaded with tiny silver fish. Heron food.

Back to the palapa for a cold coconut and flop in the palm thatch shade. Travelling with 3 friends, and we try to organize a hot meal, with limited success. I believe the kitchen cooks only cook one meal at a time, setting aside the first ones so they can serve them all at once. Result, cold eggs, with hot tortillas. 100 pesos($7) but it' a nice view. We early birds get the view before the other tourists straggle in about 10 am. Given a dozen places to chose from, it's rarely crowded.

Right in front, 20 meters away are tidal pools that flood with each wave crashing onto the rocks that define the place, ideally flooding the inshore low beach and creating a little flow across the sands that floods back out to sea. Fun to hop in and ride along. only once did i find myself being swept back out to sea and had to stand knee deep in the flow, unable to wade out till the flow slacked. Alternative was an involuntary bit of body surfing among rocks!. The sea has been chilly (25 degrees ) and so it's dip and dash.

By 1 o,clock we pay, pack and catch the pre booked taxi back to Santa Elena for the chicken bus. Like everything else, the taxi has increased in price (from 50 to 60 pesos), but split 4 ways its nothing. Likewise the bus went from 30 to 40 pesos, but they are much improved, having windows, cushioned seats, and saner drivers. Full of coconut juice I really needed a piss, so using logic I wandered up the road past the taxi lot. Taxi drivers need to piss too, and sure enough there was a wet spot a bit further where cabbies had pissed liberally on a wall. Relief!

It's a 40 minute ride back, with the busses seeing more customers with the increased population. Seats fill up, but locals prefer being crammed into the mini van transporters, so we wait for the 40 passenger buses, more air, much better views, and more metal if some fool hits us. Hint from a Mexican: Don't travel the roads on a Sunday, as this is when people have a day off, and dad gets drunk! Safely back in Puerto we face the greatest danger of the day, crossing the 4 lane carretera highway, a mad dash to the divider, and a scramble across the next 2 lanes in ahead of trucks and motorcycles accelerating off the speed bump. Phew! Home to shower, change sopping shirts and sticky swim suits, then a cold juice and a plunge in the clean refreshing pool. A sucessful out of town day!

[ryanparrish]

Despite how it may have looked from the outside looking in, he wasn’t ignoring her pleas to stop or slow down, on purpose. He simply could not hear her through the tornado whizzing around his head and turning his brain to mush.

How—- and when could she have had a child?? Better yet, who else knew? How many times had he seen Georgia in passing the last three years? — plenty! And not once did she hint at the fact that Tess was a mother or she was an Aunt.

Did Drew know too?? As many times as he meddled in Ryan’s life and not ONCE did he mention the fact that Tess had started a family of her own.

Sure, to be fair — maybe they’d both had their reasons. Maybe Tess had sworn them all to secrecy until she was ready to break the news herself. Or maybe, just maybe, they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that gut wrenching bomb. Either way……

All Ryan could do to keep himself from losing total control was to put as much distance between himself and the diner as possible.

In the years since he’s been away, or since the wars he fought and battled in had hardened him — Ryan’s anger steadily resembled a rolling wave, slow and insidious to start before it inevitably swallowed everything in its wake.

He got as far as a block away before, by some miracle or divine persistence, she caught up to him, forcing an immediate halt in his footsteps lest he run her right over.

Even with her standing less than a foot in front of him, he could feel the familiar vibration of heat emanating from her body. A body that he once knew so well, and he promised to spend his whole life worshipping. Which just so happened now to belong to someone else. Someone who wasn’t him.

A strange twist wrung at his heart and left it out to dry as he began to picture her with another man. This other man’s hands on her body, this other man’s lips on her skin, and this other man’s baby in her belly.

Pretty soon the fists he had curled at his sides turned bone-knuckle white from how hard he’d been clenching them.

“I get it.” When he finally spoke, his tone was as smooth sailing and as placid as the summer lake they used to swim in. “Okay?” For someone who is so very much not okay, he’s desperate to convince her otherwise. It’s why he conjures the twitch of his lips and schools his own mouth into a reassuring half smile. Unfortunately though, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. So to distract her from them, he blinks a few times.

He doesn’t know how many minutes or seconds come to pass in that moment. He’s trying so hard to keep it together that his entire body aches from the effort alone. And he’s pretty sure his muscles are going to hate him for it later.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Tess.” It’s true. He may hate to admit that but, she shouldn’t have to apologize for simply living her life. For moving on…. when it’s what he wanted her to do, right? He told her as much before he left this town in his rear view, and her right along with it. Sure, he didn’t mean it. But there was no turning back the clocks now.

And besides….. Maybe, in some cruel and fucked up twist of fate, he only had himself to blame. After all, had he not pushed her in that direction — maybe they would’ve already had the life they always dreamed of together.

The life she now clearly had with someone else. For the first time since she entered that diner, and sat down across from him, did Ryan allow himself to meet her gaze. To stare so openly into ocean blues, he was sure he’d get lost.

For a moment, he even let himself drown under the immensity of her stare. The desperation to make things right, to make him understand, was palpable. He could feel it throughout every syllable, and every breath, And as much as he didn’t want to because he didn’t want to accept it — he gave in.

The wall he tried so hard putting up to avoid breaking down, caved in. Like always, he couldn’t bear to see her hurt. He couldn’t bear to see her crumble beneath the weight of stress she so constantly wore on her shoulders like a second skin.

If telling her he forgave her and everything would be alright (even though he didn’t wholeheartedly believe it) means she’ll be okay then, he’ll do it. He’ll suck it up, grin and bear his own pain and grief over losing her, just so she doesn’t have to feel a lick of guilt or remorse about it.

“I’m just shocked is all.” It’s not a lie. But it’s not the whole truth either. “I mean, I kind of wish you would’ve told me sooner. Rather than ambushing me like that.” Not to say it was her fault. She said herself, she hadn’t meant for it to unfold that way. But still. Whether or not it was appropriate over a letter or a phone call, he still would’ve liked to know. Anything would’ve been better than what he just endured.

“She probably thinks I hate her—“ or do children of that age not understand the concept. And how even old is she? She looks to be a toddler but hell if Ryan knew. “And I don’t—“ but also to be clear— “nor do I, you.”

In fact, Ryan’s not sure he’s capable of hating her. Hell, Ellie cheated on him and Ryan could barely stand to be around her. Tess gets married, has a baby with someone else and he still can’t find it in his heart to let her go. How pathetic does that make him?

“For what it’s worth, she’s perfect and every bit you.” Even meeting her for point two seconds, he was confident of that. He didn’t have to spend countless hours with Waverly to love her. Just the fact that she was part Tess makes her already precious in his eyes.

“If you need to know anything, it’s that.” And in that moment, with her still standing within arms reach, Ryan grapples with the urge to reach out and hold her cheeks between his two palms. However, he doesn’t. Instead he lifts a hand and anxiously rubs two fingers over his lips. “You probably need to get back?” It’s not so much him wanting her to go, as it is him fishing for and assessing how much time they have.

Now that the initial shock has started to wear off, Ryan feels an influx of questions building in the back of his mind. He wants to know when, and with who. Where this family of hers now lived. Just so Ryan was aware of who to avoid should be come face to face with her new other half. Because he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t want to pummel her husband just to get rid of him. | @tessabhrams

One look at his face and foundation of everything she was - everything she had been or would ever be - rocked unsteadily beneath her feet. The sheer devastation in his eyes, try as he might to snuff it down and hide it— Something cleaved inside of Tess’ chest knowing she’d been the one to put it there. 

He didn’t even have to give it a voice. She could read each thought, each question, each obliterating realization as they came like the pages of a book. 

But it wasn’t an entire lifetime spent knowing him, spent loving him, that she had to thank. It was the simple fact that if the roles were reversed, if the shoe was on the other foot, she’d be a breath away from breaking, too. It was hypocritical and unfair in the worst ways, but just the thought of a child out there, every bit Ryan down to the last inch, made her stomach sick. 

Not because they would’ve been his - she could picture him as a father so vividly it physically hurt - but because she’d lost him all those years ago. Because any child he had now wouldn’t have been hers. They would’ve belonged to the woman who came after. The wife. Her replacement.

That uncomfortable, unfathomable truth churned through Tess and all the while, oblivious to the dual heartbreak happening in front of her wide and curious eyes, Waverly peeked out from behind her legs, shyly smiling. 

It was wrong - everything about this was wrong - but Wave’s presence was the only thing that kept her standing. 

Still, she had to say something. Do something. Her fingers curled over her daughter's hand, soaking up that tiny bit of reassurance and strength— “No, wait.”

He was leaving. Jacob’s mail was tucked beneath his arm now and he was leaving. He couldn’t be leaving. But he was. Before she’d even fully processed the goodbye Ryan fumbled out while he gathered his things he’d already stepped past them and was leaving. 

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

“Wave, honey, go ask Aunt Georgie to buy you a slice of pie.” Frantic fingers tore through her purse and then her wallet, nearly tearing a ten dollar bill in half before she managed to get it loose. 

“Can I get it with a scoop of ice cream?” Hopeful eyes turned away from where he’d vanished to match her equally hopeful smile. 

“Yes, baby. Two scoops.” She might’ve promised anything so long as it got her safely settled with her aunt again for another minute. She just needed a minute. 

And as soon as she had her chance, as soon as she left her little girl once again in the care of one very confused Georgia at the unexpected return of her niece, Tess was gone. 

Out the door, onto the street, turning left and then right— “Ryan, wait! Please.” Locked on his retreating figure already onto the next block she took off. Her heels clacked and threatened to break off against the sidewalk. People began to stare. In another world, another life, she might’ve cared that the gossips were no doubt already spreading whispers around town, but not now. Not when she needed to explain. 

“Ry, please wait.” She’d made it almost halfway. “Please wait!” Three fourths. That blasted heel caught in a crack in the concrete but she kept going, ignoring the twinge in her ankle with every step. As soon as she was close enough to reach out and make contact: “Please.” She panted, coming to a skidding stop in front of him to buy even a second more of his attention. 

“This wasn’t— I didn’t mean for—” FUCK. All the lines she’d rehearsed for this moment were useless because they were meant to be delivered before the fact, not after. 

Her teeth clenched so tightly together she thought one might’ve chipped. It was the only way to keep the steadily building whine of a sob trapped within her throat where it belonged, though. 

“I’m sorry.” 

For daring to bring a child into the world who wasn’t half her, half him? No, not quite, even if she held onto the promise of that dream for years longer than she probably should’ve. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, apologize for Waverly’s existence, but— “I never wanted you to find out like this. I swear. I wanted to tell you myself. I was going to tell you myself.”

A distinct burning sensation accompanied the watery sheen of tears that rimmed her eyes, a blink away from reaching her lashes. “I just— it didn’t feel right to tell you in a letter, or while you were laid up in a hospital bed.” 

She thought there’d be a better time. That she’d have time, period. Unfortunately, three years and a few odd months were the universe’s limit. “I wasn’t— I didn’t mean for you to get blindsided by this. Please.” At that point she wasn’t sure what she was even asking for, or why she kept apologizing, but she did. 

“I was going to tell you, I swear. I knew once we moved back you’d find out eventually, but I wanted to tell you myself. I only wanted you to meet her when you were ready. Not like… this.” | @ryanparrish

[arroelin]

— when they come home in the middle of the night (part 2)

part 1

characters: childe, itto, albedo

genre: fluff

<writing these were so fun! hope you enjoy reading them>

CHILDE drags himself up the steps leading to the front door, wincing at the twinge of pain in his shoulder as he reaches for the handle.

when he carefully pushes open the door, he’s met with a cold glare and the sight of you standing with your arms folded across your chest.

your eyes flicker away from him to the clock on the wall, and his eyes follow yours. he curses inwardly when he sees that it’s currently way past midnight.

he hadn’t expected to run into a band of bandits when retrieving a package from someone across town, and the few minutes he had promised you it would take him to run this small errand had turned into hours– which brings him to this moment.

“you took your time.”

“I… had to take a small detour,” he manages to stutter out.

you raise your eyebrows at him, and childe doesn’t know what else to say so he blurts out the only words on his mind at this hour, “it’s late.”

with a small sigh, you hum in agreement before making your way towards him. childe sees the concern swimming in your eyes as you draw closer.

your hand reaches up and he feels your fingertips gently graze over the small bruises littering his face, and he almost wants to lean into your touch.

“I thought you would be asleep,” he says sheepishly. “aren’t you tired?”

you hesitate, slowly lowering your hand to your side, but you nod.

“sorry,” he mumbles, looking down at the ground.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you say softly, and he feels you slip your hand in his.

childe looks up, seeing the small, forgiving smile on your lips makes him feel a little better, and he squeezes your hand gently, “c’mon, let's go get some rest.”

ITTO didn’t mean to get lost when he was trying to catch an onikabuto that kept hopping around, and he definitely didn’t mean to come home so late.

he tries his best to be quiet, and yet the floorboards still creak with each step he takes.

itto freezes when he sees you asleep on the sofa with an open book laid out on your lap and your head slumped awkwardly on top of the armrest. after a nervous gulp, he slowly makes his way towards you.

he knew that spending the night alone on the large bed would feel lonely, and the way you were sleeping looked uncomfortable, so slowly and carefully, he slides his arms under you and lifts you up.

you stir against him and he freezes in place. once you finally settle comfortably in his arms, itto lets out a large sigh of relief.

“hey,” a sleepy voice calls out, making his heart almost jump out of his chest and his eyes snap to you.

“h-hey,” he stutters.

“what’s happening?” you mumble sleepily, looking up at him with tired eyes.

he breaks into a smile, “I’m bringing you to bed, the sofa didn’t look comfortable.”

you hum in agreement and let your eyes flutter shut. he feels you stir in his arms again, but this time, you bury your face into his chest.

“I wanna sleep here,” you murmur with a small smile as you open one eye to look up at him. “you’re warm.”

itto feels his entire face heat up, and he’s thankful that it’s dark so you couldn’t see the redness spreading embarrassingly across his face.

the moon is at it’s peak when ALBEDO returns home from the laboratory.

his eyes widen when he sees you slumped over your desk with your head resting on your arms. he doesn’t miss the mess of papers scattered around you and the uncapped pen laying beside your hand.

the small, flickering light from the desk lamp lights up your peaceful expression in the otherwise dark room, and albedo feels a small smile tugging on his lips.

he walks over to the desk and places a hand on your arm, shaking you gently so as to not surprise you.

you lift your head off your arms and look around, blinking slowly at the bright room, before finally, your eyes meet his.

“you shouldn’t sleep at the desk,” he says gently as he reaches up to push a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. “you’ll wake up tomorrow with a sore neck.”

“let me clean up first,” you mumble sleepily as you start to push yourself up from the chair. but the gentle hand on your shoulder and the small smile albedo sends you is enough to let you know that this is a mess that he can handle at the moment.

he caps the pen and begins to gather up the chaos of papers on your desk. from the corner of his eyes, he sees you nodding off every few seconds, and he also notices the way your head snaps up each time as you blink your eyes in a futile attempt to stay awake.

albedo sets down the pile of papers he had been sorting and holds out his hand in front of you. “we can organize this tomorrow,” he says softly. “right now, we should both get some sleep.”