#this has been sitting in my drafts staring at me since yesterday

[readychilledwine]

Size Kink

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

A Size Kink is a general term for being aroused by being smaller/larger than your partner. It can be height, muscle mass/weight in general, cock size, ect. This is generally a kink we associate with subs having, but in my humble 5'1" experience, I've met more Doms with this kink than subs (hence my 5'11" baby daddy who thought he'd never have someone short enough to enjoy this kink with.) This kink has several subgroups that fall into it and sex acts that fall into it, but my personal favorite to write is height difference and body frame difference. So tall muscular male, short female (curvy or lean.)

What I love about size kinks is that it's so focused on specific aspects, and ANY body type gets to play with it. Little hands? Little legs? Luscious curves? Member of the Itty bitty titty committee? There is someone out there with a size Kink who is into your body and thinks you are a piece of artwork and sexiest thing on the planet. It's so beautiful because it is a body type kink that does not discriminate, and as a sex positive and body image positive person, I think that's super important and comforting for some people.

💕Peep the Valentines Day list here💕

As always NSFW below the cut

Azriel x short!reader

Warnings - reader is VERY petite, smut, p in v, slow stretching

A/N - So, I actually have a request for a size Kink with Cassian sitting in my drafts as well from before I decided to do Valentines Day Bingo. Since I picture Cassian as an absolute unit, I used a more Megan thee Stallion vibe for that reader (tall and thick) so I decided to go very short and thinner built for this one to ensure they'd be different. I apologize if that bothers anyone. I will try to get that Cassian request finished asap to post it and make up for this 💙

Ps- with how quickly I am cranking some of these out, and how.... spicy some of them are getting, I don't have my normal outside editing all of the time. Baby daddy proof read this one. Before staring at me and going, "that wasn't fair." So, I apologize for any errors, as always, I will catch them on my fresh reread after it's posted 🫠

Azriel was slowly losing his mind as he watched you use a chair to be closer to Cassian's height and argue with him face to face.

You were just so… small. So little compared to the two Illyrian males. They towered over you. They dwarfed you. Hell, he and Cass had discussed several times how easy you'd be to manhandle, considering they were both so sure their large hands could almost touch if they were wrapped around your waist.

At 6’8” and 7’ it wasn't hard for him and Cassian to own a room or be the tallest males, but Gods when Azriel stood next to your 5’ frame, when he saw Cassian pick you up like you were no more than a doll. It did something to him. It made him feel like a God, like he was powerful, possibly invincible.

He had been further spurred on by over hearing you and Nesta yesterday. She had asked you about how, if the opportunity presented itself, you would manage to fuck an Illyrian, and you, you with your never back down attitude had told Ness, “Mountains were made to be climbed.” He did not know if you had meant that in regards to him, but his hand found his cock quickly that night.

Azriel walked over to where you and Cassian argued over cereal. The fight wasn't serious, but he just needed to remind you that even with a chair below you, you still fell a few inches short.

“Get down before you fall and hurt yourself, angel.” He put a hand to you, offering to help you down. You glared, but put your hand in his.

Offering to help you was a mistake.

He felt the blood rushing to his cock as your little hand sat in his.

He shared a knowing look with Cassian when you looked away to step down and get back on the floor. The argument resumed instantly, your hand still in his.

It stopped as soon as Nesta walked in. Her mate and you going silent and agreeing to disagree.

Well, at least you thought you had agreed. Until Cassian turned around, Nesta in his arms waiting to fly into Velaris. He looked between you and Azriel before smirking. “You know, y/n, you might have shit taste in cereal, but at least you're the perfect height for some things.”

You didn't get it until you turned to Azriel, plush lips parted to ask what Cassian meant.

The blush that spread your cheeks was sinful.

Another image Azriel would save when he imagined it was your mouth around his cock tonight.

Azriel's room was across the hall from yours, so he knew you were being subjected to the same torture he was.

He was sure all of the Night Court could hear Cassian and Nesta. He rolled over to his back, throwing an arm over his face and sighing.

You were so small, so sneaky, he hadn't noticed you come in and shut the door until you were sitting on his bed.

And fuck being in his custom made oversized bed made you look so little. “Hello angel.”

He made room for you, welcoming you under the blanket you laid facing him, watching him. “Do you all never.. get worn out?” He chuckled. “Because humans do. Males typically finish, then they're like, done, and asleep.”

He looked towards you, laughing and smiling so hard his dimples were showing. “Is that your way of telling me you didn't enjoy rolling in the sheets while you were human?”

That blush spread your face again. “I had plenty of fun before Hybern did this to me. Thank you very much, sir.”

You had done it. Azriel shut his eyes, growling at the nickname as he did. “You cannot call me that when you're laying in my bed, y/n.”

You looked at him, snuggling closer to him. You knew what you were doing to him. You had known for a while. You always tracked his eyes when he'd watch you take your heels off, biting his lip thinking no one was looking. You noticed him hide his arousal behind a mask of indifference when you would climb things around the House of Wind. You had also noticed Azriel and Cassian taking every chance they could to lift you.

You had even know Azriel was so sneakily listening to you and Nesta the other day, and you had meant it. Azriel was a mountain you intended on climbing. “Of course, sir. Wouldn't want you to have to use those big hands to keep me quiet.”

The growl that echoed through the room had your thighs clenching. He was on you in an instant arm between your breasts, so it rested on your neck. The other hand sat on your hip, inching forward. “Do not tease me.” You could feel him pressed against your back, mind immediately lost in how that would fit.

You may have been biting off more than you could chew.

But fuck it.

You had never backed down from a challenge. Why start now?

You wiggled further into him, grazing his cock with each movement. “What if I'm not teasing? What if this is an offer, sir?”

“You're going to regret that, little one,” Azriel's hand immediately was in your shorts, his other hand squeezing your throat. A thick finger ran your soaked core, pulling a moan from you. “Going to have to go slow,” Azriel ground his hips into you, needing that friction on his aching cock. “Don't want to hurt you, angel.”

That one finger entered you without warning. It was already a stretch, but one you welcomed.

You loved how everything about Azriel was so big. His hands, his muscled chest and arms, his wings. Of course he'd be big there too. Anticipation began to replace the fear. You relaxed into him, tilting your head and pulling him into a heated sloppy kiss.

Azriel swallowed your moans and cries as his finger opened you up for him. You were tight, so damn tight. His hand moved from your throat to your breasts, loving how they weren't even a handful for him. You were so petite and slim, he reminded himself. He pulled your tank top off, maneuvering the best he could to get you fully below him. He pushed in a second finger, watching as you squirmed so helplessly below him. “So fucking little,” he moaned. “Mother above you're perfect. Just perfect.”

He leaned back, fingers increasing speed the best they could with your shorts in the way while he toyed with your breasts, pinching your nipples and smacking the tender flesh as he saw fit. “Cum for me so I can sit you on my cock, angel. You can do it, y/n. Show me how tight you'll be squeezing around me.”

You felt like you were floating as you came, whimpering Azriel's name as you watched him rut against the mattress for some friction, hazel eyes damn near lost in lust.

He pulled his fingers out of you, wasting no time ripping his sweatpants off and using those juices to coat himself. Your shorts came next, torn to shreds as he pulled you to the edge of the mattress and rested one leg on both sides of his chest.

He was as perfect as you imagined. His cock was long and thick. He was running it along your folds, soaking up at the slick he could before smacking the head of it against your clit.

Azriel could help but to stand with his hips flush against yours, admiring how it looked like his cock would be damn near in your stomach. “Gonna go slow,” he mumbled as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Can't risk hurting my little angel.”

He pushed the head in, keeping an eye on you as you moaned out a long fuck before relaxing into his bed. He sat there, only a few inches inside of you, feeling as your walls stretched out to accommodate him.

He pulled out and slowly reentered, pushing a little more inside of you. Your back arched off the bed, a whimper of pleasure ripping through your throat. The burn of it felt so good. You felt yourself drooling already, mind numb, and lost to anything that wasn't Azriel.

He continued his motions over and over until he was flush against your hips, and you were screaming for him. You had cum just from him slowly getting inside of you, and now he could see the bulge he had created, the slight swelling inside of you as your body made room for him.

Azriel put a hand on the bulge, feeling himself inside of you as he began thrusting. You were squeezing him so tight, hand struggling to find him to hold on to something.

He felt himself losing control, pace growing faster and faster as he watched you squirming and moaning below him. His arms went behind your hips and back, lifting you off the bed and manhandling you in the air for a little while. He brought you to his chest, moving you to be against the wall that shared his room and Cassian's.

A silent brag, and message, that he could now accurrately inform Cassian how easy you were to toss around like a doll.

Your hands found purchase on his shoulders as you became a babbling mess. Your silky core was twitching and tightening around him all over again, indicating to him how close you were, how ready you were. “Az,” you panted. “So fucking big.”

“Yeah,” he kissed the top of your head. “Bet it feels so good stretching you out, doesn't it, baby?” You couldn't respond as a certain angle had you becoming pliant in his arms. “Fuck I know it does.” He was practically lifting you on and off of him, watching as you stretched around his cock. “You're close, aren't you, angel?”

You nodded, eyes glazed over and jaw fallen open to the perfect o. “Gonna cum.”

“Then cum. Squeeze my cock. You wanted to climb the mountain, right y/n? Fucking climb.”

You hit that peak on his command again, clinging to him tightly as he continued using you and stretching you out.

It took Azriel a few more moments, but he stilled inside of you, head thrown back in a loud growl as he came inside of you. He pressed you back against the wall, panting slightly as he stared into your eyes. He lifted you easily, allowing his cock to fall out of you and you to whine at the sudden emptiness that took place where he had filled you.

“This can't be a one-time thing,” his voice was almost desperate as he moved to set you on the desk, forehead finding yours. “I need more of you. All of you.”

You couldn't help but to bit your lip, nodding so quickly with a growing smile. “I like how little you make me feel. How safe you make me feel.”

Azriel's eyes almost rolled back completely as they shut. “Gods you are perfect.” He leaned in to kiss you, only to be interrupted by his door slamming open and Cassian and Nesta barging in.

A massive wing snapped between you and them, blocking your body from their view.

Cassian cleared his throat before speaking. “We want to know how exactly that worked. Show us. Please.”

“Show you?!” Your voice cracked as you turned to a smirking Azriel.

Azriel kissed your forehead. “Bend over the desk, angel. Gotta give him a show since he asked so nicely.”

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb  

@justasillylittlegoofyguy

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

[sirenologyyy]

RIGHT SIDE OF MY NECK!

neteyam x fem!metkayina reader

✧ summary : a certain sully boy can't admit he's smitten by one of the daughters of the olo'eyktan, but why would he? he's calculated and discerning and she's everything he wished he was.

✧ warnings : swearing (that's pretty much it LMAO)

✧ author's note : neteyam's 15, reader is older than tsireya by a year or so, some much needed lo'ak and neteyam brotherly bonding (after the trauma inducing hellscape that was atwow), lo'ak talking like a regular teenage boy, and in honor of it being December again, may i present to you, a neteyam fic that has been rotting in my drafts since April 🤩

A gravelly groan escapes your lips as your hands managed to shield your face, almost to hide yourself from the undisputable truth that you, along with your sister Tsireya, and your older brother Ao'nung had been roped into the evident mess that was to teach the children of Toruk Makto the ways of the Metkayina.

You weren't as prejudiced as Ao'nung, sneering at the Sully children whenever he'd run into them, so meticulously influenced by your mother's dislike towards Skypeople, let alone the Omaticaya.

You weren't as welcoming as your younger sister, who had greeted them with big grins that only further accentuated her dimples and her devout willingness to help Toruk Makto's family in any way she could. While you had resorted to mirthless smiles and polite nods whenever you'd come across one of them, it was unnatural, yes, Ao'nung was quite unfair with his treatment towards them, yes, but Tsireya's overall cheer and joviality was something you could not for the life of you reciprocate.

You were fine with them being here, although you couldn't say the same for most of your people.

The only real thorn in your side was the oldest.

Neteyam.

Oh how your blood boiled whenever you'd spot him in the crowd. Always so eager to help, so eager to please, so perfect, so good, it made you want to punch the living daylights out of him... Well, only slightly, that may be an exaggeration. Your hate for him might be particularly irrational but valid in all the worst ways.

"Can't you tell them I've been bitten by something?"

"No." Tsireya snorts.

"I've slipped collecting coconuts and dislocated my ankle."

"Stop moving so much sister, or I will mess up your hair." Tsireya says. "You are lucky I am doing you this favor."

It was like he was so anxious about keeping up the golden boy facade, what a show off, you thought. Going out of his way to help any way he could, helping carry baskets of dried fish across the village, pushing heavy boats off to sea, weaving baskets, seeing to the ilus, even the tsuraks at one point. It infuriated you. What did he had to gain?

If there was one thing you despised, it was try-hards.

And Neteyam Sully was the bane of your existence.

"Oh!" You had exclaimed, snapping your fingers. "You can tell them I have fallen off my ilu and got ripped apart by an akula!"

Tsireya laughed. "Yes, like they would believe me."

With another scoff, you stare st your sister through the mirror, so engrossed in the braiding technique you'd requested for her to do on your hair. "I don't see why you're bringing me into your affairs sister, it is clear as day you only want to help out the Forest People because you like the way that boy kept looking at you yesterday."

Tsireya tugs at your half-finished braid, making you swear and rub at your head, bringing Tsireya some amusement out of this. "Now, be quiet, be still, let me do my job."

With a sour mood, you allow Tsireya to thread the shells you requested she put in, sitting up straighter. "Your job in being an absolute nag?"

Tsireya sighs again, feeling her slump in frustration behind you. "Do you think it is so easy a job for me to constantly deal with your attitude? You're older than me, it is exhausting!"

A smirk comes to your face as Tsireya knots your braid off. "Don't worry, all your efforts will be seen by Eywa, she might even make the boy tell you your hair looks nice today."

"Enough, Y/N." Tsireya says, standing up from her seat.

You stood as well, hooking your arm around Tsireya's as you left your pod. "Oh let me have my fun."

A dozen morbid thoughts suddenly flood Tsireya's mind. "If we do that I am afraid there will be nothing left of Awa'atlu when you are finished."

When you arrive, you immediately spot both the brothers sitting on the edge of the woven platform, their long legs dangling just above the water. They looked to be so immersed in a conversation that neither of them noticed you or Tsireya approach them, only when they were about 4 feet apart was when you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

"Oh great mother, is it just the two of you?" Says you, making both the boys stand up like springs.

"No, our sisters are coming, they aren't exactly good at being early to things." says the younger one, his eyes flicking to Tsireya every now and then, making you dizzy trying to hold eye contact with the boy.

"Hey, Tsireya." He finally says, nodding at her sister who laughs again. It took everything in you not to start dry-heaving in front of them.

"Why do you sound so disappointed?" Neteyam wonders, another smirk playing at his thin lips as he looks at you.

Your forehead creases. "I am nothing of the sort, what about you? What has gotten you so chipper?"

"Nothing all that special, really." He replied, not even convincing himself.

You heftily exhaled through your nose, moving away from the group and walking up on the platform, taking one of the seaweed bands on your arm to bunch your hair up just to get it out of your face. Once you'd pull your hair through the band the final time, you turned around just to see Neteyam's head turn away, almost like it was a chain reaction.

You placed your hands over the dip of your hips, facing the odd group. "Now, where has our dear brother wandered off to? It's almost noon and he is nowhere in sight."

This makes the rest of them look around for Ao'nung, even the two brothers who you'd assumed wanted nothing to do with him after your brother had showed his blatant contempt towards them after he'd ridiculed them during their arrival.

"He must still be with Rotxo and the others, we must be patient." says Tsireya.

Your mind remained closed, throwing your hands up in the air only for them to land on her hips with a thwack. "We both know Ao'nung does not move like the tide, he is too stubborn, too hard in the head ." you found yourself saying, prodding a finger at your forehead.

"Patience, sister." Tsireya admonishes calmly, making her way towards you as you placed your hands on the identation of your woven skirt. "We must not rush things, we allow things to come to us at their own pace."

"Alright, alright." you tell her half-heartedly.

"Hey! Sorry, are we late?"

You turn her head to spot the two Sully sisters jogging up to the beach, the youngest out of all of them went straight for Neteyam, watching as he scooped her up with no hesitation. "Where in Eywa's name were you two?" Neteyam wonders, eyeing his sisters curiously.

The older girl rolled her eyes, pointing her chin at the youngest. "Couldn't decide on which skirt she wanted to wear."

The little girl pouts. "I didn't know which one I wanted!" She protested, her ears drooping down.

"She had two to choose from." the older sister groaned. Eyes finding yours as her grin widens, you chuckle to yourselves, having sisters was never a dull moment.

You two had bonded over that when you first helped her with her chores, although she seemed reluctant at first she accepted. Neither of you got anything done as you both found that snacking on dried seaweed and exchanging stories about your lives proved to be more fun.

"Maybe he isn't coming." says Neteyam's younger brother, subtly inching towards Tsireya while keeping everyone under the impression that he was trying to find Ao'nung just like she was, but in truth, all he wanted was to stand beside her. Tsireya didn't pick up on it at all, being the oblivious person she was, but Neteyam did, quietly chuckling to himself as he puts Tuk down, watching as she sprints towards the sand at full speed.

You shook your head at the sound of Tsireya's giggles and walks off the diving platform as well, making your way towards the beach to stretch your legs, walking along the coastline trying to kill time. That is until something tugs at your skirt, you turned around to see who it was but then looks down to see Neteyam's youngest sister, proudly holding a small conch shell in her hands, beaming up at you.

"They look just like the ones in your hair!" She exclaimed, a gigantic grin spreading across her face as you crouched to her level, taking the shell from her hands to study it. "It's a light purple, you don't have any purple shells yet."

"You're right, I don't have any purple shells in my hair yet do I?" You say in genuine amazement, holding it up against the sun, feeling the little girl scoot closer to you, but the shell had suddenly started to sprout 6 legs and you dropped it, startled by the animal and by the little girl's scream, you watch as it scurries back into the water, gone forever.

You turned back to the little girl who was visibly upset, another frown slowly forming on her face before you placed your hands on the little girl's shoulders. "Hey, we'll find another one around here somewhere, don't be upset."

She huffed, her shoulders rising and falling. "I didn't know there was something inside it, I really didn't."

You shook your head. "Neither did I, we both didn't know." you assured the younger girl, cupping her round face as her frown slowly started to shift into a smile. "Look, if we need to do this properly and find shells for my hair, I'm gunna need to know your name."

"Tuk!" She says. "My name's Tuk!"

"It's very nice to meet you Tuk."

"Really?" She giggled as you nodded. "What about you? What's your name?"

You beckoned her closer with a simple gesture of your fingers as you whispered your name into her ear.

"You've got a very pretty name." Tuk whispers as well, hiding her face behind her hands as she giggled.

"So do you." You had whispered all the same.

Tuk then looks back at the diving platform, and then back at you. "Y'know I think my brother is staring at you."

"Oh yeah? Why do you think that is so?"

The little girl scratches her head. "I don't know, he only stares at things he thinks looks nice or looks weird."

You grinned. "Does your brother think I look nice or weird?"

Tuk blinks. "I don't think you look weird"

"Would he think that?" Ka'leia emphasized.

"Probably" Tuk replies honestly, looking back at the diving platform again. "Why else does he keep staring at you?"

It made you think, it made your mind spiral into the bottomless void of memories in which you had caught a pair of warm amber eyes catch yours, and every time you did it made your heart stutter, however unfortunate it may be. "I'm not so sure either."

"Neteyam's weird." Tuk deduced.

You snort. "Yeah, he's weird"

Silence settles between you, but not for long as Tuk takes your hand and pulls you up. "Can we go and find shells now? Then we can put them in your hair! Then you'll look pretty!"

"Am I not pretty now?"

"No, not really." says Tuk, swinging your interlocked arms back and forth as her wide eyes scanned the sand.

"No?" You wonder almost scandalised, "alright. " you nod.

You and Tuk spent a good couple of minutes digging holes on the beach to fish out the shells that had been buried underneath the sand, conch shells, shards of shells, fossils, rocks, bits and pieces of coral, if it was pretty enough for Tuk's standards she's adding it to her pile.

5 minutes later you're following her around with an armful of tiny shells, half the beach full of holes from Tuk and her makeshift shovel that had originally been a branch, with her screaming in delight when she's spotted another one, hurriedly running to you to add it in with the rest.

Lo'ak abruptly places his hands on Neteyam's shoulders, purposefully trying to scare him but Neteyam does not flinch at all. "Yo bro, you got a staring problem or something?" He wonders in English, stepping beside Neteyam to look out into the beach too.

"You done flirting with Tsireya?" Neteyam shot back.

Lo'ak huffed. "Pfft, me? Tsireya?"

"I know your tell, your tail's a dead giveaway."

Lo'ak laughs, punching Neteyam's shoulder, finally making the older boy turn to face him. "Yo! Shut your ass up!"

Neteyam chuckles. "No one else here understands English bro, we're fine!"

Lo'ak shook his head. "I'm not worried about the Metkayina, I'm worried about that devil right there." He says, pointing at the beach.

Neteyam looks at the direction where Lo'ak was pointing. "Who? Tuk?

"She's got spot on hearing, incredible memory," Lo'ak listed. "If I'd have known how much of a tattletail she'd be I'd have abandoned her in the forest when she was a baby."

Neteyam frowns, laughing. "Yes, and when I'd get home I'd find your extra finger in my stew."

Lo'ak grimaces, almost gagging as Neteyam wiggles one of his fingers at him. "Disgusting!"

Neteyam cackles loudly, watching as Lo'ak covered his mouth. "You're overreacting!" He tells him.

"Nah bro, you don't get to fill my mind with those kinda thoughts." Lo'ak says.

Neteyam places a hand on his back. "Face it baby bro, i'm in your head."

Lo'ak pushes it away, chuckling. "Lay off!"

"Will you two ever go a day without fighting eachother?" Kiri asks, giving them a look.

"Not sure," says Lo'ak. "But I wouldn't hold my breath."

Kiri rolled her eyes and Lo'ak turns to Neteyam again. "If Ao'nung isn't coming then we might as well fetch him, if you catch my drift."

Neteyam shakes his head, his braids swishing from side to side. "No, we will do no such thing."

Lo'ak half shrugs, already moving away. "Fine, if you won't then I will."

Neteyam grabs his arm, stopping his brother in his tracks. "Hey, what did dad say?"

He pretends to think. "Not sure, something about you being the next poster boy of the clan?"

Neteyam flicks a finger on Lo'ak's forehead, making the younger boy hiss. "No, you skxawng, he wants us to be on our best behavior, and I don't want to be stopping you from pulling another shitty stunt that'll get you in trouble."

"Fine," Lo'ak says. "I'll go check up on Tuk." He tells Neteyam unconvincingly, scratching the side of his head. "What's up with you and wanting to stay on the beach?"

Neteyam's jaw tightens. "There's nothing that's keeping me here except my promise to dad."

"Uh-huh" Lo'ak nods, eyes flicking to you and Tuk. "Nothing or no one?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Lo'ak frowns, pretending he understood. "She's pretty hot."

Neteyam pays him no mind, only scoffing.

"She still avoiding you?" Lo'ak asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, and I can't seem to find the reason why." Neteyam huffed.

Lo'ak snickers. "Maybe it's cuz you're coming off a little too strong."

"I don't know how else I can get her to talk to me without her insulting every fibre of my being or making up some excuse to leave, I've tried everything." He replies desperately, causing Lo'ak's eyes to go wide, a whistle leaving his mouth. "Damn that bad??? What the hell did you do to her to make you hate her this much?"

Neteyam rakes his face with dread. "I don't know baby bro, but you have no idea what I would do to find out the reason why."

His brother was too down-bad to be saved, Lo'ak knew that much, looking across the beach as he studies you with his little sister. Neteyam looks at his brother, his eyes seemingly trained on you as it flicks up and down, he slaps his brother's arm. "It's rude to stare."

"Yeah, go tell that to them." Says Lo'ak, pointing at a handful of Metkayin boys passing by, giving you stolen glances as they talked amongst themselves, chuckling and hooting.

Neteyam's eyes narrow into slits. "They're irrelevant, we must not let ourselves become like them."

Lo'ak glances at him, clearly unconvinced. "Yeah, okay, so stop looking."

"Fine, I won't." Neteyam replies quickly, watching Lo'ak turn around and walk to the edge of the platform. But he dosen't stop looking, he hated himself for it for it and the way that it was practically eating himself alive.

Wasn't it such a simple task? To turn his head around and look somewhere else? Well it should be, but Neteyam couldn't bring himself to pry his eyes away from you, you, oh Eywa. Your eyes were the colour of the sea, your hair shiny and black, your smile making his stomach twist itself into knots, your laugh making shivers run up his back, the way you dressed alone would make people turn heads, but your attitude was what drew Neteyam in.

You didn't feel the need to keep up this respectful facade, treat him like a guest because it was expected of you as the daughter of the Olo'eyktan, no, you treated him the way you thought of him.

You were rude, you were impolite, and you were blunt, because you didn't like him. You didn't feel inclined to tolerate him just like what was expected of you. He wished he was that brave.

"'Teyam! 'Teyam look what I got!" Tuk squealed as the pair of you walked up the diving platform carrying mountains of shells on your palms. "Y/N told me she and 'Reya could put these in my hair after diving lessons! Isn't that cool?!?"

"Oh Tuk, you didn't force her into braiding your hair did you?"

Tuk looks back at you for moral support. "But she said she would-"

"-Neteyam let her be, if she wants me to braid her hair then I'd be happy to" you had jumped in, siding with Tuk whose ears flicked upwards at her statement. "I hope it isn't too infuriating that I favour your sisters over you."

Neteyam wanted to scoff, but instead stifles it with a tight smile. "Nonsense, my sisters have that effect on everyone" He tells her, looking at Tuk. "Don't you?"

Tuk simply gives him a giggle, a swift nod, and then runs to Kiri, shouting her name over and over again before the older girl groans in acknowledgement. "Here," you say, handing him a conch shell with yellow and brown patterns ruminating on its surface.

"What's this for?" He wonders.

"Your sister practically dug up the entire beach, you deserve at least one." you chuckled.

Oh. He stares at the shell in your hands, then looks back at your face. "If I take this does this mean we'll be friends?" He asks, a sly smile breaking on his face.

"Oh you wish," You reply, smirking as you narrow your eyss at the boy. "Taking this won't change anything."

"Yes it does," He replies as a matter of factly. "this is the longest conversation we've ever had without you leaving or insulting me."

"No it dosen't," You shook your head, insistent. "I'll still hate you after this."

He hums. "I think I can live with that," He smiled. "I did get a gift from the daughter of the Olo'eyktan after all." He laughs when he hears you scoff.

You leave right after he takes it and right before he could say thank you. Walking off to find a basket to store more of Tuk's shells in.

Neteyam looks at the shell in his hands, about 2 and a half inches long, smooth, shiny, perfect, it was perfect. He loves it. He closes his fist, a smile breaking on his face before he could even relent it, a light purple tinting his cheeks as he places the shell in one of his pockets.

[ussgallifrey]

Home for the Holiday | Part 3

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, arguments, fake dating, hurt/comfort, Jake’s family being fake and generally awful towards him, mentions of divorce, mentions of past abuse, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 9.9k

✦ Author’s Note: Hi, has it been over a year since I posted anything for this story? It must be a Christmas miracle! Anyway, this one has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, slowly getting added to every few months. And here we come to the end of Jake's annoying family. The next two chapters will be decidedly happier, I promise.

[Master List]

You’re woken neither by your own internal clock nor the backup alarm on your phone but by the irritated slamming of something across the hotel room. It takes you a second to properly assess the sound as being of the non-dream variety. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you push up onto your elbow to stare into the unsettled darkness.

The golden light from the bathroom spills out into the entryway where a shirtless Hangman seems to be fighting a losing battle with the foldup ironing board.

“You good?” you call out, voice still hoarse with sleep.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, mustering out an almost guilty, “Shit, sorry Pits.”

You wave him off, sitting up properly - the white sheets spilling over your thighs.

The bedside clock informs you that it’s still early in the morning, though not unreasonably so. He had told you the drive to his father’s place would take a while, so it made sense for him to be up at this hour but less so for whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish across the room.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, scratching at the back of your neck as you pad your way over to find out.

“What’s with the iron?”

There’s a seafoam green shirt on the board with a plugged-in iron on its end, that much you can see.

“Damn thing won’t turn on,” he flicks the buttons on the iron up and down, on and off.

Quirking your brow, “You know it takes time to heat up, yeah?”

He pauses, fixing you with an exasperated look, “Fifteen minutes enough for you?”

Throwing your hands up in a defensive hold, you take a step back.

“Shit. Look, I’m not trying to be a total ass here. Just, I didn’t exactly go packing a lot of options and I can’t go wearing what I did yesterday because Josh saw it already - ”

“Got it.”

He sighs in defeat, grabbing hold of the shirt. Giving it a good flap, you can see the clear wrinkles on the front.

For a lazy day in, the shirt would be fine. But this was a family get-together and Jake Seresin was a naval officer. His closet was likely similar to your own when it came to precision-pressed and properly hung items. Wearing this shirt, the way it was, would not fly.

“Well, before you go complain to the front desk - give it here, and let me try something.”

His own brow rises but he ultimately hands it over by the scruff of the collar. Swiping up your toiletry bag, you head into the bathroom, looking over your shoulder to give him a small smile.

“Let’s see if the magic of steam can’t work a miracle on this.”

His features drop in a way that says he hadn’t even considered that as an option before he grins, “Here’s hoping.”

After hanging the shirt on the towel bar, you take an extra long and heated shower. Letting the water massage your back and shoulders with its pressure. You certainly missed the little things like this when you were aboard the carrier. Uninterrupted, hot, lengthy showers where you didn’t feel like it might be a biohazard to touch any surface.

No, this was nice.

And when you step out of the tub and wrap a towel around your middle, you crack the door open to inform Jake that his shirt is just about good to go.

“But I can hit it with the hair dryer still. We got time, right?”

He hums in reply from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him.

Turning on the exhaust fan, you wipe down the steam-covered mirror with a hand towel and go about finishing your routine. Making sure your feet are actually dry, you step back into the room - walking over to your bag in search of another outfit.

Jake had pushed aside the blackout curtains in your absence, filling the room with natural light. He’s sat on the edge of his bed again, but now he has a plain white tank on to go with his jeans. You can hear the faintest clearing of his throat, making you look back at him.

His gaze drifts down your back for a second before he seems to busy himself with his phone again.

“I’m guessing this one is a little more casual?” you ask, pulling out three different shirts.

“Mmm, yeah,” he clears his throat again with a cough, glancing over towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your shirt out in a minute. I’m just letting the steam work its last bit of magic on it.”

His eyes finally meet yours and he frowns slightly, “I wasn’t - y-yeah… okay.”

And then it seems to dawn on you: you were only wearing a towel.

And while it might be common for the guys of your squadron to walk around shirtless in the gym, or when they were changing out of sweaty flight gear, it wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence for you to be seen in anything but your usual navy-issued tank and shorts. And while Hangman himself had been in nothing more than a towel yesterday morning, during the rush to get ready, that seemed like an entirely different situation to your own.

Your heart races as you become aware of just how exposed you are right now.

Grabbing hold of your entire bag and muttering out an embarrassed: “Sorry, I’ll just - ” as you hurriedly flee back into the bathroom.

Hangman, for his part, seems too stunned to even form a reply and you can’t exactly blame him.

Jesus, what were you thinking? You might be comfortable around your squadron but nothing over the past two days had elicited that level of comfort between the two of you.

Taking far longer than necessary to choose an outfit and get dressed, you’re slow and methodical about your hair and makeup this time too. Only when your nerves have settled down from the encounter, do you finally grab his shirt and return to the room.

“Well, what do you think?”

You hold the shirt up for him to examine. He nods, standing from his spot on the bed to take hold of it by the shoulders.

“Thank you.”

You just nod, tight-lipped, as you go about putting your bag away in its rightful spot. Jake tugs his arms through the sleeves before heading over to the full-length mirror by the front door. You watch as he methodically rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, creasing the cuff perfectly each time. When he’s done, he twists his watch around - back and forth, a few times.

And then he clears his throat, looking over towards you as you slip on your boots.

“You look good, by the way.”

Slowly, your eyes meet his and you offer him a gentle smile.

“Not too shabby yourself, Bagman.”

He ducks his head down for a second, grinning all the same. But then he’s glancing down at his watch and frowning again, patting his front and back pockets as he checks his EDC.

“You ready to go?”

Rising from the desk chair, you fix him with a questioning look, “Are you?”

With a smirk, he shakes his head. Offering an honest, “No.”

Jake holds the door open for you as you leave the room, heading down to the stairwell. You make an off-hand comment about it not being the way to the free dine-in breakfast. But he just keeps walking and eventually, you're in the parking lot. Slipping into the passenger side of the rental car, you watch as he adjusts the rearview mirror and his own seat.

Before he even starts the ignition, he looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Well, someone wouldn’t let us go down to the lobby for breakfast.”

“Ha,” he chuckles. ���Come on, I know a better place.”

Raising your brow as you buckle your seatbelt you say, “I’m intrigued.”

Hangman just grins, grabbing hold of the back of your seat as he backs out of the parking spot.

You're not sure what you expected, but when Jake pulls into a busy Sunoco gas station ten minutes later, you can't help but raise your brow skeptically at him.

“Trust me,” he grins - all teeth - as he snags his aviators from his shirt collar.

“Tell me they have the best donuts around at least,” you call, following him out of the car.

He had parked off to the side, away from the entrance of the food mart. Digging his hands into his jean pockets, he waits for you to meet him on the sidewalk in front of the hood of the rental car.

Grinning with all the smugness of a higher power, he nudges your arm with his elbow and leads the way. Avoiding the building entirely, which makes you even more curious. The two of you round the other side of the gas station where the smell of smoked meat and spice fills the air.

There are two food trucks, a yellow tear-drop-shaped repurposed camper, and a smaller red build. Each has its own canvas tent with tables and chairs set up underneath. Fancy chalkboard signs bring the promise of amazing food as do the long-stretched lines outside of them both.

“Okay,” you admit, “You had me concerned for a second there.”

He chuckles, getting into the yellow truck's line, “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart. Anyway, I wanted to give you the chance of having an Austin staple.”

Well, if the menu wasn't enticing enough for you, then the smell certainly was. You find yourself nearly floating along the line with Jake. After ordering, you grab an empty picnic table to yourselves and proceed to dig into the absolutely massive breakfast burritos.

“Have you eaten here before?” you ask after swallowing another absolutely sinful bite.

“No, actually,” he wipes his mouth with another napkin. “This place didn't exist until two years back. Found it online when you were, uh, getting ready.”

Your chest aches as you recall the awkward encounter from this morning. Slowing your chewing, you manage out a pinched, "Well, god bless online reviews. This is incredible."

After another bite, you rub your lips with the back of your hand, glancing across to meet his gaze - his sunglasses remain folded on the table now, so you're able to see the green of his eyes once again.

“I mean it,” you swallow. “This might be the best breakfast I've ever had.”

He stares for a moment, swallowing his own bite before a slow smile graces his lips.

“Better not let your momma hear you talking like that.”

You laugh, “I'm sure she'd understand.”

Jake gives a warm chuckle, shaking his head, “Hell, think you know more about my family than I do about yours at this point. Not even sure I can remember you ever talking about them.”

Setting the burrito down carefully in the foil wrapper, you contemplate his small accusation. While you had certainly heard your fill of just about everyone else’s families while on deployment, you can’t recall if you really ever dove into talking about your own.

Obviously, you had heard all about Jake’s very extended family at this point. But even you knew about Freud and his weird association with his mom’s current husband - her fifth husband if you were remembering things correctly. Cosmo had a close relationship with his sister Cecilia but not his sister Lucia. Slab had a complicated connection with his adoptive parents but got on okay with his older brother. And so on.

“They’re not very interesting,” you finally settle on.

He raises a single eyebrow, “I highly doubt that.”

“Compared to yours?”

That makes him smirk, “Fair point.”

From there, it takes you a little longer to realize that you’re both eating at a leisurely pace and that Jake isn’t constantly checking his watch or telling you to speed it up. It’s a strange occurrence, given his usual attentiveness for being timely. Jake Seresin lived by the motto that if you’re early, you’re on time and if you’re on time, you’re late.

So, as nearly a full hour of the two of you sitting there and shooting the shit passes, you start to grow the slightest bit concerned. Going on to ask:

“How far did you say your dad’s place was?”

His lips immediately fall into a sort of scowl as you pull him away from a very amusing story about his time in officer’s school.

“Two hours,” comes the almost robotic reply.

“Does that mean we should start, you know, heading out?”

Your breakfast had long since been finished and the wrappers thrown away. Your drinks were little more than melted ice and semi-chewed straws at this point.

After ruffling his hair and twisting his watch around a few times, he finally sighs.

“Yeah, probably.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you slap his shoulder as you finally stand up from the picnic table.

“Come on, Seresin. You got me as your wingman for a second round today. No time like the present.”

Grabbing hold of both of your near-empty drinks, he too lifts his leg over the side of the bench and stands up with a playfully annoyed, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up now, Pits.”

The ride to his dad’s house is filled with Christmas music played by two different country radio stations. As the odometer slowly creeps up mile by mile, you can see the difference in your companion’s composure. He started out relaxed, almost lounging in his seat. And then it grows more rigid; with his hands clutching the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him.

Last night, the two of you had talked about the upcoming shitstorm of a holiday get-together.

You knew Josh would be there again. But you would also be meeting his other brother, Justin, and his wife and kids of course. And then there was his sister, Jess, and her brood - as he had put it.

Just from the way he talked about his siblings, it was clear that Jake did not get on with - nor keep in close contact with - any of them. He seemed particularly hung up on his sister more so than his older brothers. And while you were sure there was a story - or two - there, you didn’t feel it was the time, or place,to pry.

And then, of course, there was the infamous Mr. Seresin himself. Of him, you knew the least amount of information. Only being told that you should keep your conversations limited if not just nonexistent. You weren’t sure how well that idea would apply in reality, but for your friend’s sake, you promised to keep things to his plan.

As the radio DJ announces yet another Thomas Rhett song, Jake finally hops onto an exit ramp, signaling that you were close to the inevitable get-together.

In almost two hours, you had covered a variety of topics pertaining to work. But seeing the great amount of tension currently attacking your wingman, you finally relent with a different story.

“I got my pilot’s license at seventeen.”

Only because you’re at a stoplight does Jake look over at you, wide-eyed and mouth slightly ajar as the beginnings of a smirk curl into place.

“Do tell.”

You chuckle as he turns the wheel.

“Whole line of aviators, actually. Great-grandpa was a paratrooper during Korea and I guess he just missed the adrenaline when he came back to the States. His son took up commercial flying and my dad got his license just because it seemed like everyone else in the family was doing it.”

“And you?” his sage green eyes meet yours for a quick second before he focuses back on the road ahead of you.

With a shrug, you draw your knee up on the seat and stare out the passenger window. Swatches of dusty farmland and wooden fences pass you by.

“Guess I was always just growing up around them. My grandpa took me flying all the time when my dad was busy working. Did my first solo ride at fifteen in a glider and got my license two years later.”

You can see his grin from out of your peripheral and count it as a victory.

“Any other incredible talents you’ve kept hidden under that smartass exterior?”

“Hey!” you gently slap his arm, pulling a fake pout. “If there was, I’m not telling you now.”

“Alright, alright,” he bites his lip, tapping the steering wheel as a sense of ease washes over him. “I’ll play nice.”

With a roll of your eyes, you mutter under your breath, “Fat fucking chance.”

There’s a seemingly dramatic sigh from him which is immediately followed by a hand being jabbed into your flank and a screech of laughter erupting from your lips as Jake proceeds to tickle your side.

“G-god fuckin- STOP, y-you asshole,” you try to squirm away from his touch, but his fingers seem to know your exact weak points and there’s only so far you can scramble away.

“Give it up, Pita,” he croons sweetly, still somehow managing to drive the car steadily down the road with his left hand.

“Mercy! Mer-cy, you jackass!”

You shove at his hand until he finally relents. Absolutely beaming as he looks over at you, unable to stop his own chuckle from seeing the state of you. He sighs, the bubble of laughter on his lips as he turns down a dirt road.

“Sure know how to distract a guy.”

With a huff of indignation, you say, “I’m sure there’s more alluring ways to do that.”

Only when Jake chokes on his own spit do you throw your head back in a howl of laughter.

“Christ, the look on your face, Seresin.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans, catching your gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Laugh it up, sweetheart. Cause we’re almost there.”

That does seem to sober you both up almost instantly.

The radio sways in and out between bits of static break-up. As the houses fall further and further back from the road, it seems like you’re looking at nothing but straight-up copper-dusted fields.

Hangman leans forward on the wheel as he peers out at the stretch of dirt road, checking the numbers on the mailboxes that pop up every mile. And then, at last, he finally slows the car down to a steady roll.

And while Lady A is singing about it being an absolutely Wonderful Christmastime, you watch as all signs of joy seem to drain from your friend’s face as he turns onto the long-winding drive of his father’s ranch. The tires kick up dirt and pebbles, leaving a trail of dust in your wake. You’re jostled in your seat from the rough terrain of the unpaved driveway.

“Can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” he murmurs, staring up ahead at the trucks already parked next to the white barn.

The house itself is a massive ranch-style home, with wood siding that almost makes it look like an older cabin. But the windows are clearly modern and sleek. It was no question at all that Jake’s father had some serious money to his name here. If the accompanying acres of farmland weren’t already a dead giveaway.

You wait for him to park, killing the ignition and resting his arms on the steering wheel with a resigned look in place of his usually bright eyes.

“When, uh, when was the last time you were here?”

With a sigh, his chin resting on the wheel now too as he stares up at the sprawling house.

“All the time as a kid. It was my granddad’s. Went on to my uncle until he ran himself straight into debt from all the gambling and drinking. Then this one - ” he jerks his head in the general direction of the house once again, “ - got it passed onto him. Haven’t been back since my granddad passed. So maybe… fourteen years?”

With a singular blink, you mutter an equally pressed, “Jesus, Seresin.”

“Yeah, well…” he just shakes his head, having already given you the gist of everything last night. No point in rehashing old news.

“Looks like everyone is here,” you comment after glancing around at the other numerous vehicles in the drive.

He nods, finally pulling the keys from the ignition and swinging the chain into his hand.

You follow him up the path to the front porch – a once beautiful piece of craftsmanship now deteriorating and stained. The floorboards of the deck squeak under your shoes and a handful of the railings seem to be either broken-off or missing entirely. A black bear carved out of wood greets you both with a simple welcome sign held in its fur-textured paws.

Jake gives a solid rap to the door before he grabs hold of the handle and shoves it open. More of a courtesy knock than anything.

With a little squeeze to his bicep, you give him your best encouraging nod and follow after him as he slides through the entryway where a massive pile of boots and shoes has been deposited.

You’re only afforded a sliver of a proper view into the main living space, but the noise level is already on par with an F18 ready to take off from the flight deck.

As you kick off your shoes into the sprawling mess of footwear, you’re assaulted by the sound of screaming children, raucous cheers, a football announcer blasting through surround-sound speakers, and the faint twang of Christmas music radiating out from a speaker somewhere in the middle of it all.

Mixed with the pungent smell of sweat-soaked shoes and rosemary-scented turkey roasting in an oven, you reach out to grab hold of Jake’s arm – simply from the overwhelming amount of things happening all around you before you even see a single person.

“You good?” he murmurs, a shocking amount of concern etched onto his usually playful features.

“Mhmm,” you manage.

A warm hand eases its way onto the small of your back and you feel the madness fall into a pinpoint tunnel where it’s easily manageable and not so disconcerting.

“Never better,” said through a set of clenched teeth is all you can work up for him.

With another squeeze to his arm, you allow Jake to guide you – by the hand still on your lower back – down the front hall to the large open-plan living space. To your left, several women lean against the russet-colored cabinets, with glasses of dark red wine in hand and ringing laughs as short blonde-haired children weave their way through the space.

To the right, near the stone fireplace sits the majority of the men on overstuffed leather couches and recliners as they stare up, with rapt attention, at the game currently projected on the large flat screen mounted above the mantel.

“Uncle Jake!”

Your eyes lock onto the blur of yellow and red that comes charging toward you both. Stepping out of the fray, you watch as your companion drops to his knees to scoop up the girl with the maroon ribbons laced through her platinum hair.

“Kenna Kenna Kenna,” he grins, grabbing hold of the young girl around her waist as he hefts her up and swings her back and forth in his embrace.

A smile that you can’t seem to control graces your lips as you watch the scene play out.

Oh, the guys back on the carrier would kill to see this side of Hangman right now. What a privilege it was for you to bear witness to.

From over his shoulder, you’re presented with the curious brown eyes of the girl who then jabs her hand against Jake’s chest and demands:

“Who’s that?”

You watch as your companion’s grin slips down for just a brief second before he forces a tight smile.

“That,” comes the familiar voice of the older Seresin brother, who rises from one of the leather recliners with a beer in hand, and a too-smug smile on his face. “Is Uncle Jackie’s girlfriend.”

The girl gasps, staring up at Jake with a pure look of wonderment, “You have a girlfriend?”

Out of instinct alone, you wrap a hand around his right arm – encouraging the act from him.

“I do,” he nods at last, glancing over at you with those piercing green eyes. And then he’s laughing, dropping the girl back down onto her feet as he says, “God, when’d you get so big?”

“Probably sometime between your last visit and now.”

Your gaze snaps over to the woman in a denim blouse in the kitchen area, swirling her wine before she finishes it off.

If you had to take a guess...

“Jess,” he greets, short and to the point with a curt nod of his head.

Bingo.

As the girl, Kenna, skirts off to join the other kids currently hanging back by the patio doors near the massive Christmas tree, another man wanders over. Similar to Josh and Jake, he’s got dimpled cheeks, darker blonde hair, and a distinctive swagger to his walk.

“Hey man,” he claps Hangman on the shoulder, presenting him with a bottle of beer in his other hand. “Long time no fucking see. Look good though.”

Jake takes hold of the drink before he slinks his arm back around your waist, guiding you forward and into his side.

“Justin,” he nods, half in greeting, and half in explanation for your current confusion.

Ah, brother number two.

“And you’re the mysterious girlfriend,” his eyes slip past his brother to land firmly upon your face.

You offer your hand in return, along with your name.

“Never thought we’d see the day,” he grins in return. And then he’s backing away, gesturing toward the fridge, “Something to drink? Beer, wine, Coke?”

Surrounded by so many people who all seem to be particularly interested in scrutinizing your every move, you merely shake your head, “Think I’m good for now, thanks.”

Jake squeezes your side and you look to your left to see him already staring down at you with a soft smile. Emboldened by his apparent approval, you begin to make your rounds with him never far from reach.

You’re introduced, quickly, to Gwen. His bubbly stepmother with dark roots and straw-colored hair who hands you a glass of wine without taking no for an answer. She’s brightness personified and the definition of a doting host. Beside her stands a rather quiet fixture in the kitchen.

Marissa is the curly-haired young wife of Justin Seresin. She watches on with a bottle held between her chipped-red nails as Jess hollers at Kenna from across the room when she tries to drop a handful of slime on her uncle’s head.

The woman remains silent, though she holds an amused smile, as she watches the madness of her inlaws take place. There’s a brood of children that moves and weaves through the adults who remain largely indifferent to their antics.

From the countertop, where an array of appetizers are laid out, you watch as the two seven-year-old twins – Dawson and Dixon – gulf down scoops and scoops of bean dip. While their sister - Brynlee, as Jake’s stepmother manages to tell you over the noise of the get-together – seems content to cling to Marissa’s pant leg as she stares up at the towering adults overhead.

Your nerves begin to ease as a sort of familiar feeling washes over you. If you convinced yourself hard enough, you could almost pretend this was one of your mom’s extended family reunions.

Sure, you weren’t well-acquainted with everyone yet. But if you forced a good smile and made an effort to be courteous, you were sure you could get through the ordeal without tarnishing your wingman’s reputation.

Slowly, Jake guides you through the room, until, at last, you’re sat on the armrest of one of the leather recliners, watching with distant interest as the announcers recount the last play in the game before halftime.

“So, you gonna introduce us properly?”

Your eyes shift toward the couch where you spot the gray-haired tresses and stern sun-baked face of Daniel Seresin. Your companion, who had been standing off to the side of the living room speaking in quiet conversation with his eldest brother, seems to straighten up to full attention as if an admiral had just entered the room.

With a twinge of discomfort, your gaze tracks Jake as he strides over to you, a hand resting on your shoulder when he finally comes to a stop. You can feel his breath on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

In a rigid tone bordering on inspection-line worthy, he introduces you by name and rank to his father.

A smile flits across the older man’s face as he beams up at you, rising from his lounged position on the couch to properly shake your hand. He looks the part of a typical rancher with his light-washed jeans and buttoned-down shirt tucked in with a flashy belt buckle.

“Real pleasure to meet you,” he grins. His hand is large, calloused by years of work. “I can’t tell you the last time Jake mentioned a girl catching his interest. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

You feel rather than hear the clipped mhmm that Jake gives in return. His gaze remains largely focused on the wall behind his father where an array of framed family photos resides. Never affording the man with the respect of holding his gaze.

Daniel claps your shoulder warmly and invites you to sit down with promises of their dinner being a real feast.

“She’s a saint, Gwen,” he tells you as you resume your position on the side of the armrest.

Jake, pointedly, slouches down in the actual recliner, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle as he stares – unseeing – at the TV.

“Hell, damn near blew myself up last year with the fryer. Don’t think she’ll let me in the kitchen, will ya, honey?”

He shouts the last part, to be heard over the crowd. Followed by a ringing you bet your ass I won’t coming from the vicinity of the stove.

You watch as Josh shakes his head in amusement, cradling a wriggly toddler in his arms. But your attention ultimately falls to the man seated to the side of you. Lost in his thoughts, trapped in his own head.

Reaching down with a tentative hand, you squeeze his fingers with your own.

It takes a minute, but then those welcomed meadow-green eyes meet your gaze and you can almost see the momentary relief that crosses his face as he squeezes your hand in return.

Dinner at the Seresin house is a decidedly casual affair in comparison to the meal you had shared with Patricia the day before. Gwen dishes out the seasonal fixings onto Christmas-themed heavy-duty disposable plates. Accompanied by wrapped bundles of plastic cutlery in Santa Claus paper napkins.

Balancing your plate on your lap is a true feat of talent as you’re the main entry and exit point to the kitchen, still settled on the armrest beside Jake.

The nieces and nephews, all eight of them, are situated on the floor on a big fleece blanket that quickly becomes an absorbent towel for their stray food bits more than anything else. Your hostess has the foresight to turn the game down to a more reasonable level, though the noise in the living room is still on par with a jet engine firing.

You find yourself shouting to be heard whenever anyone graces you with a question, which isn’t many... at first.

“ - anyway, after he pulled them over,” Jess continues her story about her husband, Nick: the Statetrooper. “He told them that he – god damnit! MacKenna Jaymes, are you or are you not watching your sister?”

Your attention, involuntary, falls to the oldest grandchild who has a mouth full of food as she stares helplessly at her younger sister who’s let her plate slip and spill all over the blanket.

“Fucking Christ,” Jake scoffs in heated breath, too quiet for anyone besides you to hear. His anger isn’t directed at his niece, of course, but at his sister.

Shoving his plate onto the other armrest, he peels himself up from the chair and crouches down to the oblivious toddler who has orange cheese sauce all around her lips – which he wipes clean with a napkin.

Jess, for her part, rolls her eyes and continues on with a biting tone about children needing to take care of their own messes. But Jake merely scoops up the girl’s food and settles the plate back down on the floor in front of her with a gentle ruffle of her sweet blonde locks.

You hold his plate for him when he returns to the chair, running a hand through his own hair.

“Thanks, honey,” he says in a cadence so natural it almost makes you drop his plate.

When he’s settled, you chance a look at him before you find your gaze trailing over to the far too smug brother seated on the chair adjacent to yours.

“See? This is the shit I was talking about last night,” he waggles a finger between the two of you as an example.

“Dad, do you remember when he brought over that girl? God, Jackie, what was her fuckin’ name?” Josh perks up, sitting on the edge of the cushion as he grabs his father’s attention, and, inadvertently, Jake’s as well.

“Oh, gosh,” Daniel starts, slapping his knee in thought as he stares up at the ceiling for the answer.

After a beat, you hear the soft utterance of, “Sarah.”

You glance down at Jake who keeps his head bowed under the weight of old memories.

Josh snaps his fingers, “That’s it! Fucking head cheerleader wrapped around his damn finger and did he even spare the girl a glance? I swear to God, he - ”

“Christ, can you knock it off with the swearing already?” Jess snaps.

The mischievous brother merely grins at you in a way that seems to say you see what I’m dealing with here?

“Must be all that growing up that’s got you so enamored.”

Settling your hand on Jake’s left shoulder, you give him a reasurring squeeze. You’d already dealt with his brother’s annoying antics and personality last night, what was a few more hours of unending torture under a familial microscope?

He lets out a long ragged breath, but you can feel his shoulders loosen marginally.

You almost miss the biting sound of the Seresin sister when she mutters, “Doubt it.”

But Jake doesn’t.

And he latches on to it like an enemy target on his radar system.

“Something you wanna say?”

The room falls to a stifling silence like the distant whistle of a falling shell about to make impact. You fear for the fallout from the impending crater.

She has the audacity to look aghast, a hand held to her heart in surprise as she manages to finish off her potato salad in one quick bite.

“Jacob. If you can’t say something nice, you don’t say anything at all.”

“And yet you always manage,” comes his lightning-quick response.

“Well,” she drawls. “On a holy day like Christmas, I think you can find a way to keep your opinions sealed up.”

The other occupants watch the sparring of words like a tennis volley. But someone seems to have had enough.

“Oh, bless your heart dear!” Gwen says, standing quickly from her position on the couch beside her husband as she makes her way over to you. “You’re all out of casserole. Come on, now. Let’s get you fixed back up.”

Your chest tightens as you’re literally pulled to your feet by the determined woman, who quickly leads you into the depths of the kitchen. The words from the two siblings are still just as biting, but slowly the trickle of grandchildren also make their way into the kitchen.

Just another Christmas get-together for them as the grown-ups row.

As Gwen tops your plate to the point of sagging with more food, you watch MacKenna as she settles her younger sister on her hip while holding a hand on top of the toddler’s head.

“You’ve got your hands full,” you manage to say, hoping the smile you offer her isn’t tight with worry as the noise in the living room continues to grow.

The girl shrugs, as much as she can with a one-year-old in her arms. She tracks her siblings as they settle onto the hightop stools and begin to rummage through the lower cabinets.

Josh has his hands out as he tries to delegate between the bickering siblings, but Justin and Marissa just have the peace of mind to leave the scene altogether – also journeying over to the sanctuary of the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” the eldest brother says to you, leaning on the counter as he carefully pushes his twin sons away from the bowl of Chex mix. “They always get into it when they’re together. Has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can say in return.

“Here, hun,” his wife says to the nine-year-old struggling to hold onto her baby sister any longer. “Give your arms a break.”

With a handful of chips in his mouth, Justin points at his wife, “We’re not having another one.”

She nods congenially, patting the baby’s back with her hand, “I know that.”

Jess is on her feet now, pointing a dangerous finger at Jake, but you feel rooted to the spot because this was never a discussed topic of possible scenarios between the two of you back at the hotel.

“Abandoning your fucking family because you have goddamn daddy issues. Get the fuck over yourself, Jacob!”

For all the hostility his sister throws his way, your companion remains level and coolheaded as always.

He stares up at her with a perfectly blank face, “Can’t go one damn holiday without throwing a tantrum can you?”

Gwen coughs, pulling your attention away for just a moment as she all but shoves a platter of cookies in your face.

“Want one? Got more than the two of us can eat here. I made peanut butter, peppermint, pecan – ”

“ - and you think you can just show up here like it’s all water under the bridge and everything’s fine and dandy just because you have a girl on your arm? That doesn’t make up for the last decade of your shit.”

You take a step toward the living room, where even Josh has shrunken down onto the couch with his head between his hands. Daniel remains completely stock still as he watches the seemingly one-sided fight drag on.

“Just ‘cause you found the first broad to give you the time of day, doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here and – ”

Before you can even register the words, Jake is on his feet.

Staring down at his sister with a heaving chest and balled fists.

You break away from the cluster of family members as you make your way to his side. Tentatively, you reach for his hand – easing his fingers away until you can entwine your hands together. His nostrils flare as words that have been building up since childhood begin to battle their way up to his lips, but it all comes to a halt when you murmur a gentle:

“Baby?”

With a slow turn of his head, he looks down at you – fight dissipating from his eyes as you squeeze his hand. Giving a gentle tug, Jake follows you over to the sliding doors of the back deck.

Behind you, you can hear Josh give an admonishing, “Never known when to close your massive fucking trap, do you?”

But you push aside the door and lead your wingman into the fresh afternoon air before you can hear her likely cutting response.

Having no real idea of the lay of the land, you pull him down the back steps and find yourself traversing a small pebble path around the back of the house. Jake, still in a state of silence, allows you to guide him forward without so much as a peep.

Near the back wooden cattle fence dividing the backyard from the actual farm property, you stop under the shade of a large tree. The billowing branches bring not only cool shade but a sense of privacy away from the prying eyes of the bickering family inside.

Releasing your grip on his hand, Jack takes a few unsteady steps forward before he drops down onto a faded old wooden porch swing. It creaks under his weight but seems sturdy enough as he eases his heels into the ground and pushes back and forth.

You stand there, staring out at the vast fields for a long long moment before you hear your name whispered into the breeze.

Turning back to your wingman, you take a seat beside him, your knees brushing as he continues to make the old swing sway.

Out here, if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine you’re in the cockpit on a smooth return flight. The only noise comes from the gentle breeze drooping over the tall grass that bends like ripples in the water.

But your attention ultimately falls to your friend. With his knuckles gripped white on his knees, his head bowed down with his shoulders hunched high to protect him.

This version of Hangman would never be seen by your squadron, nor would it ever be mentioned.

With a steadying breath, your voice cracking as you force out the words, you say, “I have a soft spot for disco music.”

It takes a second for the words to register, but Jake slowly lifts his head and stares at you with pure confusion.

“What?”

“Disco. It’s my... thing? And I’m swearing you to fucking secrecy, Bagman. But... I belt out ABBA songs when I’m alone. Donna Summers too.”

The making of a grin begins to form on the corner of his lips.

“I’ve got it bad for the Bee Gees.”

His brow raises ever so slightly.

“Do those private serenades also include a dance number?”

With a bark of laughter, you tuck your hands between your knees as he rocks you further back on the wide swing.

“Oh, absolutely.”

When you look up, you find his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. But not in a harsh way. More like you were a puzzle he was just only now figuring out the missing pieces of.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Giving a shrug, you say, “Because I wanted to. Also, no one will ever believe you.”

There’s a beat of silence before his lips tug up into a radiant smile that has him shaking his head.

“God damnit, you’re right.”

You let your left shoulder bump into his right as his laughter slowly ebbs away to silence once again.

He spares the house a furrowed expression before he lets out a slow exhale of breath.

“This thing,” he starts, twisting his watch back and forth on his wrist. “Between me and Jess, it goes back years.”

“You don’t have to explain it,” you assure him with a soft utterance.

But he presses forward despite it.

“Josh and Justin were already out by the time things got bad. Just me and her in the house. Not that she paid much mind. She was ‘bout to graduate and I was just some snot-nosed ten-year-old.”

He eases into the swing, dipping his head back over the headrest to stare up at the swaying green leaves above the two of you. You find yourself turning to face him, pulling your left knee up onto the seat.

“Mom started drinking ‘round then after she found out he was fucking his bowling buddy. Had been, for the last two years or so. But Jess didn’t know that shit, just saw Mom passed out on the couch with an empty bottle on the floor.”

Jake shakes his head, pushing away the memory.

“They never said it to my face, but I know. I was the save the marriage baby.”

“Jake...”

Offering you a tight grimace, he continues.

“Spoiled as hell, got whatever I wanted and then some. Private school, the works. Brothers didn’t care much, but Jess...” he trails off.

Your hand settles onto his forearm, offering a squeeze of comfort when your own words fail you. He dips his chin in return, welcoming the touch of familiarity.

“That’s what I meant by it the other day. They sided with him and I went along with her because I found out what was really happening. Don’t get me wrong, Gwen’s a good lady and the two of them are better off divorced. But... put a wedge between me and the three of them.”

Clearing your throat, you ask, “Is that why you left to join up?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Couldn’t fucking stand to be around either of them by the time I graduated. Just wanted to start over, do something for myself on my own terms.”

And then he scrubs his palm over his face, wincing as he does so.

“Christ, I don’t know why I’m fucking telling you any of this.”

“I said you didn’t have to, you know,” you nudge him with a teasing tone.

With a look of pure exasperation, he holds his hands out like a confession, “Got me bleeding my heart out here like I’m Freeze or something, Pits.”

“Eh,” you sigh, twisting your body to pull up both of your legs onto the bench – only to deposit them both right across Jake’s lap with little fanfare. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.”

Something funny flits over his features for a moment before he places his hand over your calf and resumes his gentle rocking of the swing.

Eventually, you both manage to peel yourselves off the swing and wander back into the house. Jake says something about being completely okay with ditching the whole thing and heading back to the rental car. But you have to remind him that your shoes are still currently lost in the massive pile in the front entryway.

He then tries to convince you to leave them, going so far as to say he’ll buy you a new pair before your flight.

But, reluctant as he is, you walk hand-in-hand back into the house. You get lost in the excitement of the kids who want to open up all their presents right this very second and it seems like, for the moment at least, the fight has been put on hold to allow the true joy of Christmas to take place.

Though Jake and his sister remain on opposite sides of the room for the entire duration of the madness that is eight kids scrambling to unwrap their numerous presents the fastest.

While Justin plays the role of gift hander-outer, Jess lounges on a barstool in the kitchen, watching the mess play out with a stink eye. Jake, for all his hold-ups on the day, also drops to his knees to help the younger nieces unwrap their gifts.

Which leaves you, surprisingly, with a small bundle of drooling baby in your arms since her own mother would rather watch from afar than interact with her own children.

June is happy to suck on the left foot of her new stuffed buddy, lounging out in your lap as you rock the recliner back and forth. Jake shoots you several amused glances before he gets tugged into the decidedly un-fun realm of opening up all the plastic-wrapped toys for the kids.

The living room floor is heaped with wrapping paper and ribbons, loose twist ties, and chunks of cardboard and plastic molds by the time he returns to your side. This time, he’s the one resting on the armrest as he gently taps the snoozing baby’s foot with his fingers.

“Out like a light.”

“No better way to celebrate the day,” you agree.

The sleeping babe must be used to the chaos that is the Seresin family, as her siblings and cousins run amok with their new toys that beep and jingle. Tiny feet thundering against the hardwood floors as they zoom up and down the long hallway separating the living area from the rest of the house.

“Now that’s a picture if I’ve ever seen one.”

You lift your gaze to Gwen as she rounds the corner, a wine glass in hand as she settles in next to Daniel on the couch across from the three of you.

“Think you two will ever settle down stateside?” he asks with a true glimmer of hope in his graveled voice.

Jake winces, hand falling to your inner thigh for support.

“I, uhm, I could never ask Jake to put his career on hold for that,” you find yourself saying.

“Same for you,” he adds a second later.

Gwen, for her part, gives an understanding nod – settling a hand on her husband’s arm to stifle the topic down.

“How long have you two been flying together?”

Your wingman seeks out your gaze as the two of you mentally run through the tangle of memories.

“Three, almost four years now?”

“Mhmm.”

“And what set this all off, if you don’t mind me prying?”

Jake clears his throat, and you have to turn your head to hide the beginnings of laughter that bubble up to the surface. He shifts his weight, draping his right arm over the back of the chair, a finger playfully tugs at the fabric of your shirt.

“It was after a mission debrief. Fourteen hours, dead on our feet,” the story, completely fabricated, comes to him with a true sense of ease.

“And, I dunno. Everyone was shuffling outta the room and I just looked over and saw Pita and thought...”

At the pause, you turn your face to look up at him only to find his softened eyes seeking you out.

“Wow. I can’t have this girl out of my life.”

That piercing expression nearly takes your breath away and you want to applaud Jake for his terrific acting on the fly.

Pulling your gaze back to the seated couple, you add, in jest, “I’m sure my greasy hair and flight suit was what did it for him.”

“Hundred percent!” he grins, tugging a strand of your hair.

At some point, the others filter back into the room and Marissa kindly takes the snoozing June from you. You have to shake out your arms just to return the blood circulation. Who knew kids that little could be that heavy?

And while you get lost in the rushed conversation of two seven-year-olds trying to tell you all about the mechanical workings of their new RC cars, Daniel pushes up from the couch and weaves his way over to Jake, before saying something in his ear. You can feel the way he goes rigid as he slips his arm away from you and slowly stands and follows after his father.

You watch as the two men disappear down the hall, toward one of the bedrooms or office from the looks of it. A cold dredge of worry washes over you, cooling your insides and twisting your stomach into another uncomfortable slosh of concern. He had just started smiling again.

“He’s really got you bad, doesn’t he?”

Pulling your gaze away from the empty hall, you find the piercing eyes of Josh inspecting your face as he leans across his chair to speak to you.

“You. You’re worried about him.”

“Comes with the job,” you say.

A smirk tugs his lips into a twisted look as he too glances down the hallway.

“He’ll be fine. Little testy with whatever Dad’s about to try pulling. Won’t be too surprised if that’s the end of our little visit.”

Your brows pinch, “That bad?”

He chuckles, easing back into his recliner, “Always.”

You try to focus on the happy children occupied with their new toys and the soft lull of the TV sportscaster, but you find your primary focus pulled toward the long empty hallway.

He had told you all about the history between him and his old man, both in the backyard confessional an hour prior and the day you arrived in Austin. Yet now your mind was conjuring up worse and worse scenarios of what was happening in a closed-door room several feet away.

Another few minutes pass where you try your best to ignore what could be transpiring a few yards away, but the sound of a door opening followed by a pleading voice saying:

“Jacob, come on now. Jake. Jake.”

You crane your head just in time to see your companion striding down the hallway, directly toward you – pushing both Justin and Gwen gently out of his way. You’re on your feet by the time he reaches you and before you can even ask are you okay, he’s grabbing hold of your arm.

“Think we’re done here, sweetheart.”

Trying to get a read from his expression alone is useless, so you merely nod in return.

“Okay.”

As Jake directs you toward the entryway once again, with a trail of family members walking a few steps behind you both in silent anticipation, Daniel Seresin finally makes a reappearance.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he just shakes his head in return to his wife’s questioning look.

Hangman can’t seem to move fast enough, even as the nieces creep past you to get to him.

“Are you leaving now, Uncle Jake?”

“When am I gonna see you again?”

He’s halfway between tying his left boot when he looks up at the little faces curled with worry and childhood innocence. Frozen, unable to find the right words to explain his hasty escape as he peers up and over their heads at his father standing silently at the end of the hall.

“Oh, that’s my fault, I’m afraid,” you say, leaning down to grab your own boots as three braided-blonde heads turn to look up at you.

“We need to hurry to the airport to catch our flight, don’t we, honey?”

A flash of gratitude in his eyes and a slow exhale has Jake nodding, quick to play along to your tune.

“That’s right, sweetheart. We have to go see Pita’s family now. Wouldn’t be fair to keep her away on Christmas, yeah?”

Shelby clings to his leg, her face squished into his thigh as she murmurs, “But I’ll miss you.”

Jake shoots you a clear help me look, but your rescue comes in the shape of Josh Seresin who swoops in and collects the five-year-old up into his arms.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from Uncle Jackie soon. Won’t you?”

Your companion gives a fast nod, “That’s right, kiddo. Soon as we’re back on the carrier, I’m gonna call you right up.”

The little girl peers over her uncle’s shoulder and you meet her soft gaze.

“And Pita too?”

Jake almost laughs, but he curves it into a smile instead.

“Yeah, her too, honey.”

Oh, your breakup in a few weeks was gonna be fun to talk through with a kindergartner.

Pushing that thought from your head, you righten your boot into place and fall back into Jake’s easy embrace, his hand finding a too-familiar spot on your waist.

The drive back to the city is shared in silence with only the familiar Christmas tunes from the radio there to fill the void between you both. And even then, the holiday spirit has already seeped out of the vehicle and into the vast countryside. No amount of classic jingles could fix that at this point.

When you arrive back at the hotel, it’s as though you’re waiting for the missile to hit. That weapon of course being Jake himself.

But the man in question is as silent as ever as he drops down onto the edge of his bed. Too tired to even remove his boots as you carefully tread around him to take care of your own shoes.

His silence makes you even more cautious in your moves, tiptoeing across the carpet to your bag and back again. Afraid to make any noise that could set him off. Oh, you could handle the fallout, of course. You’re just not sure if he could at this point.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed in your sleepwear, Jake is lying flat on his back with his legs hanging over the edge. His eyes open and staring, almost unseeing, at the popcorn ceiling.

After spending a moment to assess your situation, you unceremoniously flop down on the bed beside him, a hand plopping down on his right knee.

And there you sit, in the stillness of the hotel room for a series of long-passing minutes. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, curling your fingers tighter and then looser on his jean-clad knee. Until, at last, he speaks.

“Should have never did this to you.”

You wait until his eyes land on you before you respond.

“Oh, fuck off, Bagman.”

It takes a second, but he eases up onto his elbows.

“I’m serious. Yesterday with my mom was one thing. But this shit? Today? God,” he drags a hand down his face in annoyance.

Releasing a breath, you lay down beside him on the bed. He stares down at you for a long moment before he falls back down next to you.

“I told you, I don’t care. I agreed to this entire insane endeavor and I told you I was gonna see it through no matter what. So, lose the bullshit grief, and don’t worry about me.”

Tugging on the loose fabric of his seafoam-colored button-down, you give him the space to respond or not. Hell, you were gonna be the last person to try and press the man for anything right now.

“I just...” he exhales, resting a hand on his chest. “I dragged you across the country, away from your own damn family, just to do this.”

Rising up slightly so you can stare down at him, you retort, “Which I agreed to. If I didn’t want to do this for you, do you honestly think you could force me to do any of this? Honestly?”

Jake glances back at the ceiling before a smile graces his lips.

“Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you reply, dropping back down.

“Well... at least it’s over.”

You hum in response.

Come morning, you would take the rental car back to the airport and board separate flights. You up to Michigan and Jake back to California. You would enjoy a family-filled holiday and he would be...

Your stomach turns at the thought.

Alone.

After everything that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours, after all that he was dragged through. Jake would be alone come Christmas day. Alone with his own damn thoughts and whatever reemerged trauma that came with this particular visit produced.

Maybe that’s why, after several more minutes have passed you both by, that you turn toward him and say:

“Do you... I don’t – well, that is to say, uhm...”

You can feel the look he gives you but you have to crane your neck back to properly look him in the eyes. There’s something there in the meadow green of his irises that emboldens you – allowing the words to come easily.

“Jake, would you like to come home with me for Christmas?”

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[kaytheday]

The Weight of the Eldest Brother

Hello! This is my submission for Day 4 of @outsidersweek

This submission is pretty long. I know that today has been a difficult day for everyone (which is probably why this fic is so long 😭), if anyone needs someone to talk to or vent to, just PM me! I am here for anyone who needs it. More under the cut!

On the rare occasions that Darry Curtis Jr. got nervous, he would feel irritable. Sweating incessantly as his fuse was cut short. He knew that a nervous Ponyboy would start shaking, going pale and sometimes even throwing up. Ponyboy had confessed that the few track meets that college scouts had stopped by to watch, he’d been so nervous he’d thrown up. Soda would turn into a firecracker, unpredictable and unable to concentrate, sleep, or even sit still for more than a few seconds. His restlessness would only grow as the nerves ate at him. 

Now, Darry sat completely still on that hospital bench. He was sweating and staring at the floor and feeling like he might throw up. He was nervous. That’s what he assumed this feeling was anyway.

This felt worse than the time with his parents. Somehow, this was ten thousand times worse. He didn’t know what he would do if-

“Mr. Curtis?” He turned to find the coroner looking at him expectantly. “Are you ready to go down?” 

Soda had been missing for upwards of three days. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear for small stretches of time, it wasn’t like he lived at home anyway. But he usually found Ponyboy or Steve and went to hunt down some action. Neither of them had seen him since the fight. 

Darry and him had gotten into a terrible fight. The kind of fight that no longer becomes about what you were first fighting about, instead becoming a contest of who can say the nastiest thing. 

So Soda had stormed out. 

And Darry doesn’t even remember what it is that he said. He said a lot of terrible things that night, any one of them could have been the reason Soda stormed out. But he doesn’t remember. And now it might be the last thing he ever said to his brother. And he doesn’t even remember it. What an asshole. 

There in the hospital's ground floor, Darry just gulps and gives the Coroner a nod. Standing on shaky legs and following him to the hospital morgue… the same one where his brother might be lying. 

“Are you feeling alright Mr. Curtis?” Darry jumps a little, of course he’s not feeling alright. The last time he was here it was to identify two different members of the Curtis family.

It seemed like a lifetime ago but he still remembers it like it was yesterday. Their bodies were still fresh from the crash. Mottled and bloody but despite the disfiguration, Darry knew it was them. It just reminded him of something that his Momma used to say to him when he was little and wanted to help hold Ponyboy. 

“How come he only stops crying when you hold him?”

“Ponyboy loves you very much but sometimes babies just want their momma. A baby will always know his momma.” 

His mothers words certainly rang true on that terrible night. Even in death his mother was very beautiful. She would have been glad that her baby boy always knew his momma… even in death. 

He’d hoped that would be the last time he would ever receive a call from the coroner's office.

Luckily, it was his day off and even more luckily, he was the only one home. 

“Hello Mr. Curtis, this is Jeff Alberts. I am a chief coroner with St. Francis hospital, I may have some very bad news regarding your brother…” That was all Darry heard before his world shattered into a million pieces. 

Somehow this was worse. He thought the universe would have cut them a break by now, but this was worse. This was worse than his parents, worse than Johnny and Dally, worse than that damned draft letter that started this whole mess in the first place. 

“I feel fine.” Darry told the coroner. “Just a little lightheaded.” He doesn't know what it was in him that told the coroner that. Probably the fact that this coroner seemed like a real adult and Darry felt like the same scared little kid that had to identify their parents' disfigured bodies with his little brothers at home. Darry was still that same scared kid that stepped up to raise his two little brothers all while simultaneously messing things up even more. 

He didn’t have time to think about Ponyboy right now. He couldn’t imagine what Ponyboy would do if the body he found in the morgue was-

“I know these situations are very difficult, do you need to sit down for a minute? I can grab you some water if you’d like.” 

“No, I’m okay.” 

“Okay.” They went down a few more stairs. “The man we received in the morgue came in with a stab wound among other lacerations…” With each word Darry felt himself getting sicker. He needed to throw up or punch something or maybe both. “...also found various evidence that he may have been on drugs or with someone who was using.” Then the coroner launched into an explanation of the man’s physical description, a lot of which matched Soda exactly. 

Stay standing. Darry told himself. You can’t stop now. It was the same stuff he had told himself the first time he had come here. It was awful when his parents were killed. Darry had felt worse than he’d ever felt before. Beyond terrible, Ponyboy had been throwing up because of how hard he was crying and Sodapop looked about ready to combust at the way he was moving. But Darry was the one that couldn’t stop, the one that had to pull them together, take charge, and make sure everything was okay. Nobody else was going to do it. 

“Are you ready to go in Mr. Curtis?” Darry took a deep breath, steeling himself for the worst. He could say no, he could tell the coroner that he needed a minute. But it was better that he just do it now. It was better that he just went in immediately. Afterwards he would need to call Ponyboy and tell him that it was Sod-

“Do you need another minute son?” Darry couldn’t breathe. Just breathe. Just calm down. He tried to take another deep breath. “Son?” 

“Okay. Let’s go in.” 

The room smelled the same way that it had when he’d been there the first time. The body was underneath a sheet on a metal table. The table had some flecks of blood on its shiny exterior. Darry went and stood next to the body on one side. 

“I’m going to pull the sheet down now. Is it alright if I do that Mr. Curtis?” Darry bit his lip and nodded. He didn’t really have a choice, he had to know. He had to know so he could figure out a way to pull their family back together again. How would Ponyboy take this? Darry hadn’t even told him about this, Pony was at work anyway. Home from school for the summer but more importantly to see Soda after his tour  in Vietnam. Darry didn’t know what Ponyboy would do if he found out his favorite brother had been killed. Ponyboy had already lost so much. He couldn’t take losing one more. How could Darry take it?

The sheet came down. 

The relief that flooded through him was instant. It had him nearly swaying on his feet, his eyes growing hot and wet as he stared at the body that wasn’t Sodapop. 

He could understand how the coroner thought it was Sodapop, especially considering it was Soda’s wallet they found in his pocket. This guy looked nearly the same, but there were a couple clear differences. This guy's nose had been broken more than once and his hair was longer. Soda had barely had time to grow out his hair since the four months he’d been out of the army.  This guy was also missing the scar that Soda had on his neck from Two-Bit throwing a bottle at him three years ago. 

“Is this your brother, son?” 

It’s not him. It’s not Sodapop. 

“No, it's not him.” The doctor looked skeptical. 

“Are you sure? Sometimes in death our loved ones can-.” 

“I’m sure. It’s not him.” Darry interrupted. This wasn’t like the first time, with his parents. He had known immediately as soon as he’d seen their mangled faces that it was them. This was completely different. 

“Okay.” The doctor said softly, pulling the sheet back over the man's face. “You are free to go Mr. Curtis. Thank you for coming in.” Darry still had Soda’s wallet in his back pocket. He was relieved but still worried. If he wasn’t here, where was he?

Before he knew it Darry was putting a dime in the slot of the hospital payphone. 

“Hello?” Ponyboy.

“Hey kiddo.”

“Hey Darry, what’s going on?” He sounded genuinely confused and maybe a little worried. He had a right to be. Darry didn’t usually leave the house during his days off and then mysteriously call home and not say anything. 

Darry thought about telling him. He thought about telling him everything. The coroner's office, the guy who looked like Sodapop, the pit in his stomach. But he couldn’t tell Ponyboy. He shouldn’t even have to be worrying about Darry in the first place.  

“Just makin’ sure you made it home from work okay.” 

“Sure.” Pony said slowly, still confused. “You okay? Where are you calling from?” Of course the kid would pick up that something was wrong. 

“Just the gas station. I’m headed home in a minute.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you when I get home then.”

“Okay, bye Pone.” 

“Bye Darry.” And just like that the call dropped. At least he had one brother accounted for. 

Darry didn’t even really remember the drive home. He did that sometimes. His head filled with so much worry and stress that he simply went on autopilot, somehow managing to find the way home without crashing the car. Today was no different. 

He could hear the racket before he even stepped through the front door. Ponyboy and Steve were on the floor, a hand of poker set out before them and Soda… Soda?

Soda was home. The same Soda that had come back from Vietnam so different. The same Soda he had fought with and driven out of the house. The same Soda that he had driven to the hospital to identify. The same Soda that was sitting on the couch in front of him, unharmed and not dead in a hospital morgue. 

“...arry?” Ponyboy was looking at him, something like concern written in his eyes. 

“Sodapop?” He asked, completely ignoring Ponyboy for a moment. “Where you been?” 

“Around. Didn’t know if you’d want me back for a while after… that night.” He trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on him. 

“You’re always welcome here, no matter what.” Darry said in that no nonsense tone. Darry wiped his hands on his jeans. “You guys start dinner?” He asked, itching to change the subject. 

“I preheated the oven.” 

“Thanks Pone, I’ll finish it.” He felt their eyes on him as he went to the kitchen. Get a grip. He told himself. Of course Soda is fine. He began to slather the thawing chicken in sauce.  He went to get some butter out of the fridge when he nearly ran into Soda. 

“What’s this about?” He asked, running a nervous hand through his hair. 

“What’s what about?” Darry asks, taking some frozen vegetables out of the freezer. 

“You were lookin’ at me like you saw a ghost. That’s gotta be something.” 

“I’m fine, I’m just really glad you’re okay Sodapop.” Soda’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. 

“Sure, I was only gone a few days. Are you still mad about our fight?” Soda asked.

Darry thought about telling him. He really did. About telling him everything. He thought about telling him that he thought Soda was dead and he was the one to blame. He thought about telling him about the smell and even mom and dad. He thought about yelling his head off that Soda should have called, should have told Darry where he was, that he could have been killed and it would be all Darrys fault. 

After all, Darry hadn’t had anybody to tell for so long.

But he didn’t.

Over the years he had a lot of practice of knowing which things his little brothers needed to know. His little visit to the coroner's office and hospital morgue was not something either of his little brothers needed to know about. 

“No, I’m not mad about that. Not anymore little buddy. Now how about you help me with dinner, huh?” 

“Sure Dar.” Soda says easily, knocking his shoulder against Darrys. “Though we might be having blue chicken.” Darry laughs, thinking about how close he was to thinking Sodapop was dead. How he had felt like this might never happen again. Everything would be fine. Soda was alive and Darry would keep it that way if it killed him. 

[oh-snapperss]

so indebted to you for cuteguy etho god bless

just for u.... i give u the accidental beginning of a cute guy fic in my drafts. it's pure crack and unedited btw

words: 1169

warnings: none

has like one line of implied shipping lol

“Etho, Etho!” Bdubs waves frantically, as if the two were greeting each other after a long few weeks apart, rather than a single day. 

“Oh, hey Bdubs!” Etho walks over, barely noticing when the door slams shut behind him. There’s plenty of other customers around, most wearing headphones and sitting at the tables, lost in their work. This morning, there’s no line, and Etho heaves a sigh of relief. He’d been up way too late, and he’s ready for a pick me up. 

“Have you seen the news?” Bdubs asks as soon as he’s at the counter. Over by one of the cabinets, a muted television plays, showing a broken window at one of the museums. Etho tears his eyes from it quickly. 

“Ah, you know me! I never do!”

“Someone broke into Cub’s museum last night!” Bdubs’ eyes are wide, gesturing at the TV anyways. 

Etho blinks, pushing down his rising horror. “No way.” He doesn’t know…surely….

“Yes way!” Bdubs leaned in conspiratorially. “They say that the Cute Guy outfit was stolen!” 

Etho’s grip on the strap of his backpack tightens. “That so?” 

“Yeah! I mean, who would do that, right?” Bdubs pushed back from the counter. “You want your usual, right?” 

“Yes please.” Etho draws out the ‘please’, as always. “Don’t forget the heavy whipping cream.”

“You know you’re the only reason I keep this in stock, right?” Bdubs rolls his eyes, bustling around the coffee shop. It’s a quaint place, smelling so strongly of coffee Etho is sure that he’ll be smelling it the rest of the day. Nonetheless, it was the best coffee shop in the whole city! Least, that was what Bdubs said. And if Etho ever said otherwise, he’d have his head gone by morning, probably. 

“Ah, come on! Best part of the whole coffee!” Etho protests, flicking parts of his napkin at Bdubs whenever his back is turned. 

“You’re disgu–stop flicking the napkin at me–you’re the worst! Don’t even know why I serve this to you, it’s gonna give you diabetes, you’re gonna die at the ripe age of however old you are, and then what’s ol’ Bdubs gonna do?” Throughout his ramble Bdubs flits around the coffeeshop, making Etho’s coffee regardless. It’s a simple enough order, just black coffee. 

…okay, and just as much heavy whipping cream. 

“I’m not gonna die! Takes a lot more than that to kill me!” Etho giggles, although he shifts from foot to foot. What does it take to kill him? He’s tempted to check and make sure his backpack is securely zipped up. 

“It does not take a lot more to kill you.” Bdubs glares at him, sliding the cheap disposable cup across the counter towards him. “Four dollars.” 

“Wh–it’s three-fifty!” 

“Yeah, but I need financial compensation for when this kills you.” Bdubs says smugly. “Pay up, sweetheart.” 

Etho’s not blushing at the endearment. No sirree. He would never, especially since he’s ninety percent sure Bdubs calls everyone that. 

“Etho?” Bdubs stares at him, unimpressed. “Just cause you’re my favorite customer doesn’t mean you get out of paying for your coffee.” 

“Ohhh, favorite customer, you say?” Etho grins, all thoughts abandoned in favor of teasing. “If I’m your favorite customer, can I get a disco-”

“No.” 

“Okay.” Etho laughs, and finally pulls his usual wad of cash from his pocket. “How much again?” 

“Three fifty. Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the–”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Etho slides the money over, before hiking his backpack up his shoulder again. “Thanks, ‘dubs. See you around?” 

Bdubs barely even glances at him. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

“Or maybe at the grocery store? Oh wait, you’re too short–”

“Get out!” Bdubs flicks another napkin at him. “You’re the worst!”

His grin says otherwise, and Etho matches it with his own clear out of the shop. Once out, though… 

The streets are crowded, the sky overcast with light grey clouds. Shoot, he should have checked the weather before he left–if he gets stuck in a drizzle without a jacket, he’ll never hear the end of it from Scar, or Bdubs, or anyone else. 

He walks down the street, glancing around. iBuy seems particularly busy, and so does False’s fashion shop. He slips through the crowd, trying not to bring too much attention to himself. It’s a miracle no one has noticed his routine yet–get coffee, walk down street, duck into the alleyway entirely non suspiciously, and slip in the back door to his new job at HotGuy HQ. 

Insane, right? 

The second he’s through the backdoor, the alarms go off, as usual. It’s a simple matter of yanking a wire from the alarm system to turn it off, and then he continues forward as normal. 

“Scar?” He calls out, glancing around. The HQ is quiet today, not even a receptionist at the front desk. 

“You mean Hot Guy?” 

Etho spins around on his heel, to discover Scar standing at the top of the stairs. He’s fully decked out in his superhero outfit, each muscle outlined and complemented by his shirt. 

“Scar, it’s just us. Do we really need to call each other–”

“Never call each other by real names, Cute Guy. You never know who could be listening.” Scar lowers his head, so that the light shining behind it outlines each impeccable feature in shadow perfectly. “Our identities… must be kept secret. Forever.” 

“Ooookay.” Etho sighs. “Why’d you call me Cute Guy?” 

The light behind Scar goes out, leaving Scar blinking at Etho in confusion. “Because that’s… who you are?”

“What do you mean by that…?” Etho stares back, horror swirling in his gut. “Sca-Hot Guy, I just did you a favor by breaking into that museum. I’m not becoming Cute Guy, that’s someone else’s job–”

“What do you mean?” Scar grins. “That was your final test! To prove your strength, your valor, your bravery!”

“I’m pretty sure those last two words mean the same thi-”

“Did you get it?” Scar descends the steps, his bow clutched desperately in one hand. “Have you succeeded?” 

Etho sighs. When he’d signed up for Hot Guy lessons, he’d thought maybe it would help him pick up some flirting tips, not this! “Yes, S-Hot Guy, I got it.” He slings the backpack off his shoulder, tossing it to Scar without much fanfare. “I’m not wearing that.” 

The bag is caught easily, although Etho doesn’t miss the look of horror when it’s thrown. “You can’t just throw the Cute Guy outfit!”

“Sorry.”

Scar ignores his apology, unzipping the bag eagerly. Each part of the costume is pulled out eagerly, before being dropped on the floor in favor of the next piece. Pink skirt, pink jacket, fishnet tights, pink crop top and are those cat ears?

Etho decides not to point out the irony of half the costume being tossed to the floor after being scolded for throwing the backpack. Besides, he really needs to head on out anyways, he’s running late for work at the redstone department of iBuy–

“Try it on.” 

“What?”

[hugheswritetr]

Unforgettable

MASTERLIST

Heartbeat | Jack Hughes

Author’s note: my fav chapter so far;)

Song: Unforgettable- French Montana

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Thalia’s POV

The sun is shining, birds are chirping, and i finally found the comfortable position to tan.

I haven’t got much time to tan during this summer, always running around, spending time with family or Luke.

I try to fill my free time with them as much as possible, knowing that once the summer ends, I am returning to Switzerland for my last year of boarding school.

But back to my tanning, If you didn’t notice, I am really enjoying the time for myself.

I just wish the process was faster, because I want the tan lines right now . Oh how I love being a girl.

My mom is cooking lunch with Ellen, so the Hughes family is over. Luke finally returned from his tournament, and it couldn’t be more perfect. The only two people who can’t share my enthusiasm are Quinn and Mattheo.

They are groaning few feet from me, laying on the outdoor sofa with ice packs on their heads. Thats what underage drinking does to you, my friend.

I can faintly hear Luke and Jack shouting at eachother as they play football, the ball nearly hit me a few times, but because of how good I feel right now, I can’t imagine myself caring.

After my mini breakdown I endured yesterday, today is a perfect calming day. My nerves settled down a bit after the talk with Jack, and I feel lighter.

Sure, I still have some anxiety left but I know I have a lot of time to figure it out. Nobody has it figured out at the age I am at, and I know that by then I will be calm and collected.

I hope.

My train of thoughts is stopped when I suddenly do not feel the sun on my face. I open my eyes and see Jack standing over me. I would start cussing him out, but today is a great day, so I choose not to.

But the words he says take me by surprise.

“Scoot over” he instructs me, and I free some space for him on the towel. “What do you want, Jack?” I suspiciously ask.

“Just want to spend some time with my friend, is that a crime ?” he chuckles. I look at him, and see no sarcasm in his eyes. He settles down beside me, the skin contact making me shiver. Why is he wearing no shirt? Thank god he isn’t tho, at least I have something to look at.

I stare, no shame in that. The hard ridges of his abs on the tanned skin are making it impossible not to. “Take a picture, it will last longer”he says, noticing my stare. Okay, I feel shame now, but I do not regret it, the sight was pleasant, not going to lie. So sue a girl for looking.

I am sure I look like an apple right now, and the embarrassment surges through me. “ I wasn’t looking” I say, trying to save at least a bit of dignity I have left.

“Please, Lils, let’s stop lying to ourselves “ he laughs and I scoff at the cocky asshole. He knows what he is doing.

We once again settle into comfortable silence, just sitting beside eachother.

He is one of the few people I actually enjoy spending time with in silence, just soaking up him and his energy.

“So tell me about the girlfriend” I suddenly ask, circling back to the words he said to me at the draft, even though a long time passed since that, it’s still on my mind.

It pains me, but I know that Jack Hughes will always be here for me to admire, not to have. I just hope he finds someone who understands his soul and his body, the way he deserves to be understood.

“Avery? What about her?” he confusedly replies, waiting for me to clarify. “You told me about her at the draft” I recall.

“Oh, yeah, sorry I forgot” he apologises, but continues “She’s great, we have been together since my birthday, so I think we’re doing good” the smile on his face when he is talking about her making my heart break more and more.

“I’m happy for you Jack, you deserve all the best” when I turn to look at him, he’s already looking at me, smiling. “Thank you Lils” he softly smiles and throws his arm around me.

I’m grateful that there are no powers that allow others to read my mind, because all I can think about is wanting him to speak about me. I know it’s dumb, but the charm of Jack Hughes has still not left me. I don’t even think it will leave , ever.

I think about Avery, already feeling the distaste for her, but deep down I know it’s just jealousy. Jealousy about her having him, and not me. She may be a great girl, but I can’t help myself.

That is something I will have to get used to by having Jack in my life, I mean, how can you NOT fall for him? I don’t think that is possible. And if it is, I need a tutorial right now.

There is no possibility that anyone who hears his voice, sees his smile, and gets to know his character will not feel love for him. And once again, if you don’t, please pull me out of this misery and tell me how.

I still remember the first summer living in Michigan, the first time I met him. The second I saw those ocean eyes, I knew I was goner.

The second I felt my hands on his skin, making them tingle, I knew he would be forever imprinted on my mind.

The second his signature toothy smile made appearance on his face, I knew I would do everything possible to be cause of it.

He stole my heart, and I don’t think I will get it back. I also think i’m fine with that, part of my heart being a small price to pay for his presence in my life.

I notice Luke walking up to us, he left to check on the dinner, the teenage boy appetite making him already hungry. I like to tease him about it, but that’s another thing im jealous of, non stop eating and not gaining a pound. If I even breathed the amount he eats, I would be ten pounds heavier.

Okay, I’m lying, I eat the same amount, especially when I’m having mental breakdown about the latest show I’m obsessing over.

Luke plops down next to us “What are you talking about?” curisously asking. “My girlfriend” Luke scoffs, I look strangely at him, and he rolls his eyes. I’m definitely going to ask him questions.

Jack notices his reaction, and scoffs too “I don’t get why you don’t like her, she’s been nothing but nice to you” he says, defending her, making the ache in my chest present again.

“Yeah, sure” Luke answers him, not wanting to talk about her for minute more. Okay, now I’m definitely curious.

I shift the conversation, not wanting to feel the uncomfortable silence longer “Luke, do you want to play volleyball?” I say, actually hoping to press him for details, but I forget that Jacks needs to be centre for everything.

“ No invite for me?” he frowns. Luke and me answer at the same time “No”, “Sure, but I want Luke on my team” . The answer I give him making him gain attitude “I’m much better player than Luke”

I answer him with laugh as I leave to get the ball “Sure Jack, hope you enjoy living in delusions”. Let me tell you a secret, he is better player than Luke, but I love annoying him.

He shouts after me, but I just laugh.

I stay in the supply room a little longer, needing to cool down my blushing cheeks, but the cause of my blushing problem once again appears.

“Having trouble finding the ball?” he asks, stepping into the room with me. “Not at all” I turn around about to reach for it, but he decides to do the same, and closes the proximity between us by pressing his front into my back.

I instantly pull away, the blush I originally had, and I don’t even know how it’s possible, worsening even more.

Why am I still blushing? Seriously, my face needs to get it together. Man up, we can’t embarrass ourselves more, I internally speak to myself and my face.

Yeah, I know these are the signs of starting insanity, but we are going to ignore it for now.

Jack coughs beside me, making me pull myself from my thoughts. “Went to Wonderland?” he teasingly asks.

I dismiss him with a shake of the head and leave the room.

When I return to Luke, he suspiciously looks at me, and then at Jack trailing behind me.

,,What took you two so long?” he asks, suspicion evident in his voice.

,,Nothing, let’s play” I say, hoping to stop his thoughts from wandering too much.

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I always considered myself great at volleyball, but how embarrasingly we are losing right now to Jack is almost making me rethink that statement.

But I’m not a quitter, and Luke isn’t one either, and we know that we are going to win this.

Because if not, this is going to get embarrassing real fast. But it won’t, because I wouldn’t let Jack’s ego rise more. Someone needs to seriously humble that man, and that someone is going to be me.

That is one of the main reasons I’m sweating like a pig right now, because there is no chance he is going to win, and if he is, it’s going to be over my dead body.

I don’t know what was I thinking wanting to play volleyball with two hockey players, because their stamina is much better than mine, hell, they didn’t even break a sweat yet.

I’m aware of how unattractive I look right now, but I don’t even care, the sole goal is to win the game and then shower.

“Wishing you chose me, huh Lils?” Jack chirps from the other side in a true hockey boy nature.

“Not at all” I answer him, one thing I’m not going to admit is me being wrong. My competitivness matches Jack’s own one and I think if volleyball scouts were here, they would choose us on the spot.

My poor Luke is in the middle of our ego match, I feel bad about screaming at him about every mistake he makes, but I will not lose to Jack. Luke will get his apology later.

The only boy matching my screams is the one infront of me, screaming obscenities at the poor ball whenever something doesn’t go his way.

I think today the universe is on my side, because when I do the winning move, my ego rises a few feet.

“Ha!” I laugh at Jack sitting defeatedly on his knees, between catching my breaths.

Luke does not even stay to clap me on my back, I’m sure he is going to Ellen for her to comfort him about how we were yelling at him. He’s SUCH a mamas boy (don’t tell him I said that).

Suddenly there’s a hand stretched infront of me, Jack’s hand to be particular. I don’t take it, smirking as I stand up even though I have about two cramps in each leg, but he doesn’t know that.

I’m certainly not going to shorten my ego even by millimetre, duh.

He laughs at me, then he hughs me.

“Congrats on winning, not sure you would win without Luke, but I’m going to let it slide” he says, that asshole. He knows damn well that I carried the team.

I don’t even answer him, my heart set on the shower I’m going to take.

What I don’t know is that by the time I was collecting things in my room for the shower. He beat me to it. In my own house.

But I’m not going to be mad, he deserves at least one win today. I laugh at my thoughts. I always knew I was funny.

If someone finds out what’s up with men and their long showers, let me know. I’m pounding on the door of the bathroom, because I honestly can’t wait no more.

I don’t even get my second pound in at the door, and hes opening them.

Once again, he knows what he is doing. Because he is standing there in all of his bare-chested glory.

Suddenly, my mind is a bottomless pit and my mouth stopped functioning, because I can’t even form and speak one word.

”Cat got your tongue?” he knowingly asks, getting second ego victory that day, dork.

I spare one last look at his chest, of course I’m not going to leave without looking. When he already catched me, I don’t have to hide it.

I push past him for the second time that day. Why does this keep happening to me? Entering the bathroom, I release a sigh.

But when I notice the familiar scent of the bathroom, I know that he used my bodywash, making a smile appear on my face.

He is going to be falling asleep with my scent today. I hope he enjoys thinking about me.

I know I called him delusional today, but I’m starting to think I should have been reflecting that one on myself.

Shutting down my thoughts, I step into the shower, the warm water calming my aching muscles.

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When I step out of shower and I notice the tan I gained, I smile from joy because that was the original plan for today.

The cooling lotion on my skin feels great, and I almost fall asleep from the relaxing effect it has.

Until I smell the scent of the food from downstairs, my stomach now agressively grumbling.

I put on some sundress I fish out from my closet, not even caring what I put on, I just want to fill the void in my stomach.

I braid my drying hair, not wanting to have a side of them with my meal. Men have it so easy with their short hair.

As I sit beside my now hungover-free brother, who is finally not complaining anymore, I notice the happiness radiating from the people around the table, making me smile.

The food is great ( shotout to my mom and Ellen ). Everyone is laughing and I’m winning again, beating Jack once again in our private kicking tournament under the table.

I laugh at him and stick my tongue out, making him smile. At least he is not a sore loser, because that would be sad for him.

He takes all these losses like champ and I think I found my new hobby, winning.

Everything is perfect right now.

[terresdebrume]

Messrs Payne and Rowland's Adventuring Agency

Part 1: The arrival of young Crystal - 24

And that's a wrap! As I've been saying this is a first draft so if you enjoyed it I recommend reading it again when it reaches AO3, as the story will look pretty different by then. Hopefully I'll manage to post it before the end of the year, we'll see ^^

The Abjurationist's Essentials sit on their shelves like kings of the library, their faded and creased blue covers a sign that Mr. Payne must have studied them multiple times, probably since he was young. Crystal is raising her hand to grab the first volume when Mr. Payne speaks up from behind the desk.

"I wouldn't," he says, sliding out of his chair just as Crystal turns to glare at him.

She's about to make a sarcastic comment, ready for a fight, when she realizes Mr. Payne isn't even looking at her, going for a different section of the bookshelves entirely. It makes Crystal's chest burn, her throat close up with something acrid and biting, and she has her finger in the air, pointing at Mr. Payne by the time he selects a volume and turns back to face her. Surprised, Crystal looks down.

The new book is a faded, dusty pink, its cover torn in two different places. It's much smaller than the books Crystal was looking at, though not thinner, and the bronze lettering at the top reads "The Enchanting World of Enchantment: A Guide for Beginning Spellcasters".

"I'm afraid my library is quite lacking when it comes to this particular aspect of magic. Enchantments are far from my specialty—but from what I saw yesterday it does seem like you have some predisposition for it. I believe this should help while I look for some further instruction manuals."

For a moment, Crystal just stares. She's vaguely aware of Charles' return to the office, of his presence behind her, but her brain stays stuck on Mr. Payne's words.

"Does that mean I can—you're letting me stay on."

"As an unfinished case," Mr. Payne says, clearly aiming for a warning tone. "And as a favor to Mr. Rowland, who seems to have taken quite the shine to you."

"Oi," Charles protests, stepping up to Mr. Payne, "she's not a pet, is she."

"Hardly," Mr. Payne sighs. "A pet would certainly cause less disturbance."

"I think it'd also like you better," Crystal retorts with a roll of her eyes.

Like Mr. Payne though, she's not really trying to make her words sting. In fact, if she's being honest—with herself, she's not letting Mr. Payne see any of that—she's a little too busy trying not to look like she's getting emotional to fake a proper barb. Charles, standing next to Mr. Payne, grins and turns to his partner with an expectant look.

Mr. Payne frowns and rolls his eyes.

"I already said she was allowed to stay," he sighs, "I hardly see the need for anything else to change!"

"Come on Mr. Payne," Charles says, leaning into his partner without quite touching him, "she's got to call you something."

"She already knows my name," Mr. Payne protests, voice rising as Crystal snorts and rolls her eyes again.

Charles must ramp up the charm while she does so, too, because by the time she looks back at Mr. Payne he's sighing the sigh of the long suffering and pinching the bridge of his nose, Charles' face cut through with a satisfied grin.

"Fine," Mr. Payne says with another, more explosive sigh. "If you must be overly familiar with me as well, I suppose you may call me Edwin."

Crystal genuinely doesn't know which of the three of them is more surprised when she engulfs Edwin in a hug.

[paralyze-fic]

Paralyze.

Chapter 86

I gently bite the end of my pencil, careful not to break it or dent it too much while brainstorming ideas.

Izuku's Air Force works by basically "punching" the air, creating strong drafts and even wind bullets of sorts, something he had said was training with All Might the day of the Festival Cultural. I stared at my palm and closed my hand in a fist a few times, visualising using my quirk.

Fingers glowing light blue, storing the energy, and I made a flicker motion... It could work, theoretically.

There was also Katsuki's AP Shot, though thinking about it better, I really doubted I could adapt it to my quirk, although it was a good use of the whistle, repeated short bursts of energy.

A frown furrowed my brows as I realised I was just ripping off my friends' attacks and I wasn't being very original. Well... My quirk does depend a lot more on other people than it depends on me. "Damn it..." A deep sigh left my lips as I slouched on the couch, and I glanced down at myself.

Despite not doing much yesterday I got more injured than I would've hoped... Do I deserve to be an intern with Endeavour after all...? I mean, he called for me and personally asked me, so there was some potential in me and my quirk that he was able to see, something I've never really done in my life.

"Pushing my limits is the only way to improve, right?" Reaching for my notebook and pencil, I wrote down another idea I came up with.

Iida's Recipro. Of course, I don't have an engine on my calves, but adapting my costume to get those- oh! Like that old man, maybe? Like Gran Torino's boots?

Again, everything was theories, I was almost sure only Izuku's Air Force was gonna work out. And I had to continue practice that shield- fuck, it's too much.

I groaned and messed with my hair, closing my notebook with the pencil inside it and placing it on the coffee table, deciding to lie down on the couch as I felt the slightest headache come back. "Gotta rest and take it easy for today," I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, using the murmur of the TV as a lullaby to put me to sleep.

///////

I took a deep breath as I began regaining consciousness and a yawn left me as I began sitting up on the couch. I rubbed my eyes and looked around.

I was very much still alone in the dorm, not a single sound that didn't come from the TV could be heard, however, the day had definitely gone by, as the sky had changed from the morning sunlight, it was more like afternoon, so I reached for my phone to check the time.

2 pm marked the clock. There was still some time left of class but they were almost done for the day.

I caught sight of my notebook so I picked it up again and opened it on the page I left. "Energy shield..." I mumbled to myself as I read my handwriting. I had used that shield during... The Shie Hassaikai, and I've not been able to recreate it ever since, or not to the point it turns transparent and has that patterned texture, like Eijiro's quirk, it just glows faintly and it goes out.

Made me wonder if there was another thing I had to do to be able to recreate it- I was about to get shot with a quirk-erasing bullet so maybe-

Wait... Bullet?

Chisaki made those bullets with Eri's quirk, awful reason and motivations, but as a villain, that's all he needed. Made me wonder if there was a way I could... Create paralyzing bullets or darts? It could give me an advantage in battle, especially in large groups and at long range.

...but I would probably have to discuss that with Aizawa and Nezu, I doubted it was ethical to create bullets with the quirk component in my blood.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

Writing down my small ideas, I ended up getting distracted and drawing doodles of my classmates on the edges of the page and above their names.

I stopped once I finished drawing a very angry Katsuki screaming at an unphased Shouto and panicking Izuku, you know, the usual every day at U.A. and I chuckled at my doodle. I reached for the remote and I started changing the channels, trying to find anything to watch while waiting for everyone to come back.

Ended up leaving an anime about a dude with a little saw demon called Pochita and, while the opening played -pretty catchy- I stood up and headed to the kitchen, wanting to grab something to drink. I opened the fridge and grabbed some (water/coke/juice) along with a glass from the cabinet and poured it, leaving the bottle in the fridge and going back to the couch.

I watched the chapter, apparently the very first, and while it entertained me enough to get me distracted, I wasn't sure I liked it as much as I thought I would. Kind of a shame, seemed cool at first glance.

The chapter ended after 20 minutes, and another anime was announced to start soon, however, I stood up and went to rinse my glass before leaving it out to dry.

Reading the time on the microwave, I realized class would be coming back soon enough.

And they did. Right as I sat back down on the couch, the double doors opened and the sound of everyone's voices echoed off the wide space. I patiently waited until they rounded the corner and saw me sitting there, which took them about five seconds.

"Oh, (M/n) is back!" Kaminari was the first one to lock eyes with me, and his voice caught the attention of the entire class

"(M/n)-kun!" Izuku exclaimed as he walked up to me, followed by the whole class and I smiled at them.

"Hello everyone," exclamations of happiness followed, mentioning how glad they were that I was back at the dorm and mostly unharmed.

And of course, I noticed how silent Katsuki was, staring at me with a serious look in his eyes, he almost looked unbothered by the situation but I knew better than that, so I smiled at him, only at him.

He scoffed and stepped closer to me, "Why didn't you change out of this thing? It's burnt," he muttered while holding the burnt sleeve of my jacket, barely attached, hanging on by a couple of threads, he looked at it with anger and disgust, as if he knew who burned it. And well, I didn't doubt it, there was a brief scene of Dabi right as he fled the scene on the news.

"I guess I was just a little tired, Katsuki," was all I said, which wasn't a lie, but I also didn't feel like taking it off, mostly cause this was my favourite jacket to wear.

"You were all over the news, (L/n)-san," I looked at Yaomomo as she spoke, a hand resting against her mouth, a slightly worried expression on her face, brows slightly pulled together.

"Why were you even there, (L/n)-kun?" Iida asked in his typical class president voice, making sharp motions with his hands, and I chuckled, hearing a few more wonder the same thing.

I guess not everyone knew why I was there, after all. I took a deep breath and relaxed against the couch, "Endeavour wanted to meet up with me, it was just bad timing, Iida-kun, and they needed my help so... I helped," I responded with a shrug at the end, and he seemed to relax from his overly uptight persona.

At this point, Katsuki had made himself comfortable by my side, and as the class had grown used to how close the explosive blond and I had gotten, no one mentioned anything about it.

"What did my old man want, (M/n)?" Shouto asked, making me turn slightly to look behind me, the rest of the class was slowly getting comfortable too and finding places to sit as they listened to me talk, despite still wearing their uniforms.

"He wanted me to be an intern at his agency," I noticed everyone's eyes open wide, a unison 'huh?!' resonating in the room, even Shouto seemed surprised.

"And?! Did you say yes? He's the number one hero, (M/n)!" Kaminari was the first one to speak, earning a slap on the back of his head, courtesy of Katsuki who had Pikachu sitting on the other side of him. I looked at the electric boy, trying to hold back a chuckle at the way he pouted at Katsuki.

"I told him I wanted to think about it, but after yesterday... I think I will, Pikachu," Kaminari smiled at me, but before anyone else could get a word out to me, Iida spoke.

"Well everyone, let's go change out of our uniforms and let's allow (L/n)-kun to rest!" He mostly received grunts of affirmation but also one of annoyance.

I slowly reached my hand out to caress Katsuki's and his scowl almost fully vanished.

Everyone began making their way to their rooms and I was left alone in the common room as I waited for them to come back down.

In the meantime, I reached for my notebook and began revising my ideas, definitely hoping no one would get pissed at me for using them as inspiration for new attacks, and drawing a quick doodle of Katsuki's grenade gauntlets.

"What are you doing, (M/n)-kun?" Izuku was the first one in the common area with me, sitting by my side as he took a quick peek at my notebook and I simply handed it over to him.

He grabbed it and began reading through, his eyes widening slightly every few words, "I've been thinking about the advice Endeavour gave me yesterday, so I was trying to come up with ideas for new moves, of course, they're only theories for now."

"They sound interesting, (M/n)-kun, you used common factors you have with your classmates and tried to apply them to your quirk," okay, that was an interesting way of explaining my thought process, which I wasn't even sure I had to be honest.

I scratched the back of my neck and chuckled nervously, "Well, explained like that, it sounds like I'm just copying you guys' moves," and my words made the greenette male start panicking instead.

"No, no! That's not what I meant-! All of my moves are- used to- most of them are All Might's moves so-!" Even though I knew I shouldn't, I activated my quirk and stopped Izuku's vocal chords, otherwise he would never stop. He reached his hand up to his throat, his mouth opening and closing but nothing, then he simply stared at me.

"I was just messing with you Izuku, don't panic." He nodded his head repeatedly and I stopped using my quirk, "Would you mind helping me with training tomorrow?"

"Why do you need to train with Deku? I'm here," Izuku flinched at the sound of Katsuki's voice behind us and I tilted my head back, smirking at the blond who was frowning down at us.

"Why don't you join us then? I'm sure you'll enjoy blasting Izuku's face for a few hours, Katsuki," now he smirked while staring at me, and I could hear Izuku's scared panicking.

"Why would you suggest that, (M/n)-kun?!"

///////

The dorm was lively while dinner was being cooked, I was forced to sit and watch by Katsuki, so I was spending my time with the rest of the Bakusquad.

"How was school today? Anything fun happened?" Mina chuckled and nodded, smiling brightly.

"We had a rescue simulation with the Big Three today, they were the villains!" My eyebrows raised slightly at the information about what they did at school, "Hado-senpai is really pretty up close!" I held back a laugh at that, but I had to agree, Hado-senpai was really pretty, no wonder she won the beauty contest.

"Yeah, it was a great training, until..." Eijiro trailed on and Sero pointed at Katsuki, whose back was facing us as he was busy cooking with Sato and Yaomomo.

"Explody McBoomBoom got too into character and almost blew Amajiki-senpai into tiny pieces," I sweatdropped at Sero's words, and the rest of the squad nodded, disappointed expressions on their faces.

I could just imagine how scared Amajiki-senpai must've been, seeing Katsuki so angry and up close. "Everyone had an afro for the next hour or so after that explosion too," Jiro mumbled and I chuckled.

"Seems like you guys had a way more entertaining day than I did."

[squish36-writes-and-draws]

16 November: Unraveling

(sorry there wasn't anything yesterday or at a reasonable time today but I simply could not figure out how to make myself write)

Word count: 559

General Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0nly @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously

@poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @corruption-exe @rusted-phone-calls

@when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes

@callum-hunt-is-bisexual @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @sillyguy-supreme

@void-kill @thefoxysnake

Unraveling Project Specific Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed/upgraded): @cutebisexualmess @crippling-pages @daizythegreat @sophiefostersno1stan @iggydancebreak

@theleopardstalker @you-will-meet-your-downfall @multi-fandom-lunatic

TW: the usual Swearing and mild Keefe angst

On Ao3 or below the cut!

First (3 November) / Previous / Next

Keefe Sencen's Journal

    Ignore the fact that I haven’t written in this thing recently because I was too lazy to write the past couple of days. Honestly I don’t really know why I bother with it. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to want to go back and relive some of the shit from the past two…? Weeks. Yeah. I think it’s been two weeks now. It feels like it should be more than that. I feel like it would’ve been funny to make a bingo card predicting the wild shit I’d get myself into while I’m here in the Forbidden Cities. 

    It would also be funny if mother dearest found this thing and immediately regretted all of her life decisions after having to experience my thought patterns about Florent. I also want to take the time to mention that I have had many, many more objectively worse thoughts that I have not given the dignity of being written down. You’re welcome. 

    So, what’s happened since the last time I bothered to put effort into recording history for the future generations that would surely be interested in my recordings? Uh, well, I accidentally have a boyfriend now. He’s so fucking hot. I can’t even put it into words. I look at him and my brain juices just evaporate. It’s great. I never needed those brain juices anyway. 

    Ninety percent of our conversation is him infodumping about whatever plant is nearest, and being that I don’t know jack fucking shit about plants so I’m just left grasping for straws with whatever basic facts I have on hand about plants. It turns out, most of those plants do not live in the Forbidden Cities.

    This would be fine, except it means Florent thinks that I’m writing my own Lord of the Rings Part 2: Electric Boogaloo with even more worldbuilding than the original. I don’t think I knew any of the words in the previous sentence last week. This is heavily concerning on many levels. I am concerned. 

    Anyway that means I’ve been drafted to play DnD. I do not know what that implies but apparently I would be good at it. I mean, if it requires making up random bullshit, then maybe I’ve got a chance. I’m very good at spouting nonsense, if I do say so myself. 

    In other news, the real reason why I sat down to write today, Florent snuck up behind me today. That would not normally be a remarkable event, and normally I would just have the shit scared out of me and then move on with my life, but it made me realise something that I do not want to consciously acknowledge. There’s a reason I’ve been rambling about other shit to avoid talking about this. A week ago, I would’ve felt his emotions behind me, even several meters away. I’m sitting here, staring at people across the street, and even when I try, I can barely feel anything.

    I’m going to be real with you, I do not like the implications there. Nerfing my abilities was kind of the whole point, but I’m afraid of being numb. It’s just another way to hurt the people that I care about, and there are already so many ways. I don’t need more, but it’s what has to be done. At least I can still feel for now.

[the73rdpostscript]

Tell me again about No Sleep Till JoeNicky - 7 - nice version and also tell me about aaaaahhhhhhh

(I know you know the background of this fic, but since most people don't I'm just gonna explain it.)

I'm writing a modern au where Joe develops really bad insomnia and discovers that the only way he can get some sleep is if he's sleeping...next to Nicky. He doesn't like Nicky but he REALLY needs to sleep before his big art show so they have to make it work and oh my GOSH wouldn't you know it they fall in love.

The first draft of this fic had Joe acting too rude for too long without adequate reason. I was essentially half-assing an enemies to lovers when the vibe of the story was just cutesy romcom stuff and it didn't work at all - even though I had some really fucking good scenes in there if I do say so myself.

So right now the story is being reformatted so that Joe is less of an asshole and the climax of the fic is no longer the two of them being vulnerable and apologizing to each other at a sleep clinic.

So since the sleep clinic climax isn't happening I'm gonna just share it here. It's a very long section but I really like what I had.

So....enjoy a massive amount of writing that is now totally irrelevant!

-

“I need to sleep! I want to sleep! And ideally I would be able to do that away from you!” Joe shouts.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Across from him, Nicky has gone completely still - mouth pinched shut and eyes shifting from hurt to distant so quickly Joe would miss it if he hadn’t spent the last week looking into those same eyes every morning and every night.

“Then it seems we have no more need to keep up the charade, as you called it.” Nicky says quietly. He might as well be sitting in an office meeting with strangers.

“Nicky, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“I’d like you to leave now.” Joe thought he had heard the worst of Nicky’s coldness during the first fight they ever had. The ice in Nicky’s voice now would have shredded him that first day. It’s all he can do to look at Nicky long enough to nod and turn away.

-

He walks home, even though his hands are shaking and his legs feel weak. The cold air is an unpleasant sensation and he thinks he might be in trouble if it’s still better than the feeling he has after that fight.

When he gets home he walks past Nicky's shortbread and eats leftover takeout that smells questionable at best.

Maybe there was something to his false bravado about not needing Nicky, because after an hour of crying to himself he falls asleep on his couch, alone.  

-

The next day he can barely get any work done, and the Nicky painting sits in the corner, staring at him as he struggles with the other canvas – the one he was so close to finishing yesterday.

Around dinnertime, Quynh sends him an email with the options for an appointment at the sleep clinic – detailing the merits of the place, and asking for a response when he’s able. When they’re able actually. Nicky is the other recipient of the email, and though he hasn’t responded with his availability yet, Joe knows he’s seen it.

Nicky is always checking his phone – Joe’s seen him do it so many times he could paint the gesture from every angle. He would want to do one from just behind, and capture the privacy of the moment from over Nicky’s shoulder, highlighting the angle of his nose as the screen lights it up, and the clench of his jaw that he never seems to notice. Maybe Nicky would sleep better if he looked at his phone less.

The email stares up at him from his phone, and Quynh’s impatience is clear in every perfectly chosen word. There are implications there: Quynh and Nicky have spoken since last night, or Andy and Nicky. Maybe Nicky didn’t say anything and Quynh saw his mood at lunch. She’s been suspiciously quiet towards Joe since this whole thing started and it hasn’t escaped Joe’s notice that Andy introduced her to Joe after she was already friends with Nicky.

Joe’s pulse spikes at the idea of losing Quynh or Andy over this. But then he remembers the time that Booker almost hit Joe outside the nightclub, and the time that Andy disappeared for a week in the middle of her own wedding preparations. Joe doesn’t make friends with people who would turns him away over a single fight. Even if he feels like he might deserve it right now.

None of this matters in the moment, however. Joe had asked for a solution to his sleep problem that doesn’t include Nicky, and that’s what’s being offered.

With a sigh, he sends back his availability, and he only barely resists throwing his phone when Nicky responds less than a minute later with his own confirmation of a date that will work.

Before he can stop himself, Joe opens a text message to Nicky, and he gets halfway through his first sentence before he realizes that he doesn’t know what he could say that would even start to address everything that’s happened so far.

Instead he shuts his phone and pulls out an old canvas he once left half finished out of sheer annoyance. He paints until the sun comes up, and then he paints some more.

-

The sleep clinic is small. Joe only sees two assistants and one clinician. The assistants have Joe fill out forms when he arrives, perched awkwardly on a plastic chair next to Nicky.

Between the staff’s polite and distant demeanor, and Nicky’s stoic compliance, Joe feels like he’s alone in the room. It isn’t until they’re asked to detail what’s been going on that he feels a semblance of normalcy.

“So that’s why we’re here to see you,” Joe finishes, having taken point on explaining the situation.

The clinician behind the desk looks at Nicky. “Anything to add?”

Nicky shrugs, “Joe covered it all more or less accurately. I have been struggling with sleep for longer than him, but sleeping beside him has let me sleep regularly and more easily.”

“How much longer have you had trouble sleeping?” The clinician asks, looking down at Nicky’s chart.

Joe watches the lines of Nicky’s shoulder lift – tension clear in his jaw, “I don’t think that’s relevant.”

The clinician responds coolly, “I can’t help you without the proper background information.”

Glancing at Joe, Nicky lets out a sigh, “I stopped sleeping well in my late teenage years.”

Joe tries not to visibly respond, but he can feel his mouth drop open. Beside him, Nicky seems to tense more - as if he can sense Joe’s reaction.

“Any idea what caused the change?”

“I don’t think Nicky needs to share that,” Joe says, speaking before he thinks about it. The idea of Nicky being asked to tell a strangers details that he hasn’t even been able to tell Joe after a week of sleeping in the same bed feels inappropriate at best. This was not a part of his plans to get some sleep.

If Nicky has anything to say about the interruption, he doesn’t get the chance as the clinician addresses Joe, “We are not mind readers Mr. Al-Kaysani. We can’t tell you what is going on with you if we don’t have context for the things you’re experiencing.”

“That may be true, but Nicky didn’t want to share any of this with me before, and I don’t-“

“Nothing changed,” Nicky interrupts Joe with all the calm that Joe can’t feel, “I could not even guess why I stopped sleeping. I’m sorry if that hinders any part of this study.” Something in his voice sounds off, but the clinician doesn’t seem to notice as she nods.

“Okay. Well thank you for telling us what you could. I can’t promise any results tonight, but we will do our best with what we get.”

As the woman rises from her chair, Joe turns to look at Nicky. The other man is gathering his coat and his bag – avoiding Joe’s eyes.

It’s all Joe can do not to grab him and ask him if he still wants to do this at all.

-

When they’re led into a room with two twin beds, Nicky still isn’t looking at Joe.

They were directed to put on their own sleepwear before they came in, and Joe notices that the shirt Nicky picked is different than the worn out ones he usually wears to bed. Joe himself is wearing sweatpants that he normally works out in, and he isn’t even close to feeling relaxed as they get into their respective beds.

The woman speaks over the intercom to them, instructing them to try and sleep but not to feel pressure. They have time, according to her.

For a few minutes, Joe and Nicky lay in silence.

“Quynh didn’t come,” Joe observes at last, “I thought she might.”

“Her meeting ran late,” Nicky responds, voice stiff.

And with that, they return to silence.

Another few minutes pass by, and Joe knows they can’t have been there long, but he’s distinctly aware of how slow time is moving based on how loud Nicky’s breathing feels – uneven and overwhelming over the distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” Joe says, suddenly.

In the silence, Nicky’s breathing has changed, “Scusi?”

“I’m sorry that they asked you about your past, and that you have to be here at all. This wasn’t where I thought we’d end up.”

For a long time they lay in silence.

“Where did you think we’d end up?” Nicky asks.

Joe opens and closes his mouth several times before Nicky shifts in his bed and says, “We should try counting down again.” The lights of the room are dim but not completely dark and Joe can see Nicky laying stiffly under the sheets – looking as uncomfortable as Joe feels.

“Alright. 10, 9, 8,”

Nicky joins him on 7, and this time Joe is still awake when he gets to 1, so he hears Nicky’s voice slow down and drop off during the countdown. For a moment the only sound in the room is the unnatural hum of a different air system, and the steady inhaling and exhaling of Nicky’s sleep.

-

The clinician wakes Joe up, and after a moment of feeling disoriented, he looks over at where Nicky is already sitting up – waiting for one of the assistants to finish pulling the sensors off his face.

“Did you find anything?” Joe asks the clinician, not bothering to let her say anything before he sits up and reaches to help her pull the sensors off.

She catches his hands and tells him to be patient and to relax a moment, but he only lowers his hands and asks, “Did you get what you needed?”

“We got what we needed, but I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed with what we discovered.”

Joe can’t see Nicky’s face but he can feel the tension radiating off of him.

The clinician steps back to more clearly address them both as she says, “We’ve confirmed that there’s nothing unusual about your physical readings when you sleep beside each other. There’s nothing specific going on biologically that we can point to right now.”

Joe wants to scream. “What does that mean?”

For the first time all night, the woman looks a little soft as she addresses him, “It means I don’t have any answers for you, Mr. Al-Kaysani.”

"So why cant I sleep without him?" He can’t stop himself from asking.

The woman gives him a patient look as she responds, "It could be any number of things. External or internal. Rhythms of your apartment, lack of sound, a pet, nightmares, anxiety-"

Joe doesn’t know why, but the very word makes him choke. “Are you saying that being without Nicky gives me anxiety?" Before he finishes the question he’s looking over at Nicky, and Nicky turns to look back. His face is intense and his gaze unwavering. It’s the expression he made the night that they talked about his nightmares – scared and determined and so unbelievably vulnerable that it makes Joe choke on the last word. Something in Nicky’s jaw ticks, and Joe wonders about it for a moment before Nicky speaks and the moment dissipates.

"Impossible. Anyone who feels anxiety when I'm gone has never lost an argument about something as stupid as whether or not [team] will make it to [tournament]."

Joe crushes the urge to argue and takes the offering for what it is, turning to the doctor and asking, "Do you see what I have to put up with?"

The doctor hums and looks down at her chart, "if you don't have any more questions, I'll let you both go. We have all we need for now and you'll get results in your email within a few days."

-

They leave the lab in relative silence, and as they step out of the doors, Joe asks, “Will you come back to my place?”

Nicky looks startled at the question, and Joe remembers just as suddenly what day it is.

“Oh. Right, you have that thing.”

After a brief look of confusion, Nicky’s expression turns to something that might be either frustrated or fond, “That’s not tonight. I’d be happy to come back to your place.”

The radio keeps them company on the drive back to Joe’s apartment, and it isn’t until they get inside that Joe thinks to ask, “Did you cancel your mystery guests?”

“I did,” Nicky says, sounding tired. For a moment, they stand in the hallway together – Joe leaning against the wall and Nicky with his hands on his hips. They must paint a rather sad picture – half in and half out, of both the apartment and this peace that could be something deeper if they let it. If Joe let it, maybe.

“I’m sorry.”

“So you said,” Nicky replies, one corner of his mouth lifting, “Show me where your kitchen is. I think we both could use something to eat.”

Once Joe’s gotten Nicky acquainted with the space and convinced him to keep the cooking simple, he settles himself the counter he thinks will be least in the way.

“You know don’t have to cook for me. I wouldn’t exactly want to feed me right now after everything.”

“That is why it’s good that you don’t make decisions for me,” Nicky says, digging around in the fridge, “You could do something for me though.”

“What?”

Standing up straight, Nicky turns to meet Joe’s eyes. “Tell me what this has all been about.”

-

[thegodthief]

When I saw the length of entries in The Memoirs of Papalo Palo were considerable in yesterday's updates, I realized that AO3 would probably be a better home for the project. (That and I don't have any backups of it.) This morning I created the new work and copied all twenty-seven entries as chapters to an ongoing work.

Image Caption: "Language: English Words: 28,903 Chapters: 27/?"

Two-thirds of those words were written yesterday, over the course of the day as I played FFXIV on the desktop and had a text editor on the laptop to write the posts as I went.

I am stunned.

I am crying.

The idea of Papalo Palo came about as a "You know what would be fucked up make a good story? What if...", and the main points of the story unwound into the past from there. As I started playing the Lalafell character, Dter encouraged me to start writing a memoir of the character for others to enjoy and so I could stop telling her the story as I went. Sure. Why not? It would make good typing practice, anyway.

Papalo Palo reached CNJ 30 in one day without any help of gear, buffs, or hacks. FFXIV has been reworked to get new players to the end times end game as quickly as possible, after all. When I got the white mage job stone on him is when I realized that the story of Papalo Palo was going to be much bigger than just something for me to kick around. I created the side-blog, told no one of what I was doing, and threw everything in the wind.

Y'all know I'm still stalled on Book Two. It has been over a year since I last posted a new chapter, and the draft sits there and mocks me for my hubris. Y'all know that I have been in a bad way since October of last year. I have felt that I didn't have anything in me anymore. I couldn't make anything. I couldn't do anything other than put one foot in front of the other. I felt like I was only existing to serve other people and that there was nothing left in me that could create joy, much less share it.

Book One was a NaNoWriMo project gone good that I published in 2020. It is also over 100,000 words. At the time, I had the hubris to think that I could duplicate that for five more books in a series that I never intended to create from the jump, but the characters in Book One kept begging me to keep it going.

I fell down a lot in 2021. And in 2022. I barely remembered myself in 2023. Then I fell apart completely in October of 2023, and it has taken until a few weeks ago for me to consider that maybe I should make an effort at continuing to live.

And through all of these dark times, I would stare at the draft and no words would flow. I felt like my skill was dead, and that I was rotting from the inside out.

"I have all these words stuck in me, and they are rotting."

The Memoirs of Papalo Palo was an attempt to see if I could write anything again. If no one knew who was behind the character, then there would be no expectations of quality or quantity. Papalo could write a few paragraphs of observation or pour out his heart to flood the page in grief. No one would care.

No one would care if Papalo wrote something every day or in weekend spurts. It's a fanfic after all, and fanfic writers are notoriously inconsistent with timing.

Today, after I finished copying everything to AO3, I permitted myself the arrogance of looking at the total word count. To be honest, I was expecting no more than 10k for the entire work to date. Not... that.

I'm still crying.

I still have in me to write. I can make the words flow. I can take the thoughts of a character and put it down in a way that others can read, that others can feel.

I'm not worthless. Not yet.

I'm going to continue with The Memoirs of Papalo Palo and post the entries here and on AO3. And maybe, I'll be able to face the draft of Book Two fix that thrice-fucked opening chapter, and get Melissa on her way again.

We'll see how I fare in the light of the Crystal.

[charlottedabookworm]

Dawntrail Day 7+8 (part 1/2)

spoilers up to: lvl100 msq quest Dawntrail

original draft date: 4-5/7/24

scheduled release for: 31/7/2024

working on day 7 so i’m merging these. since i’ve only got a couple hours i'mma do my tribals on picto and then do the instance i stopped at yesterday, hopefully get close to a dungeon/trial unlock but really not got much time. day 8 i'm finishing up msq 100% no matter how long it takes me and then hopefully doing the two optional dungeons!

*

…completely forgot that zoraal ja gave the order to kill all the civilians in solution nine

nice way to start the morning

*

“I have no more use of you, begone”

hmmmm thats an odd thing to say considering you were claiming he wasn’t your son before

fingers crossed nothings up with gulool ja

*

annnnd fade to black with the echoing sound of an execution shot lovely haven’t heard that since shadow ringers

*

pfft that last one!

except i really don't care what sphene thinks ngl

*

otis is back!

yes!

really didn’t want to kill him

*

damn

he was a good guy

*

okay but-

where is erenville?

they wouldn’t kill him off offscreen i know that much but we’d better not find him dying i swear to fucking everything I will-

*

*stares at crying child*

fuuuuck i really hope you're not a trap

*

oh thank fuck he's alive

also sorry your mums dead and has been a probably a long time mate

*

huh

he didn't mention it

why didn't you mention it erenville, what are you thinking rn?

*

no, please

this actually is important information to have

considering your mum is possibly the same sort of endless otis is and she had to end up that way somehow

*

love looking at this ngl

so much easier and nicer doing it as you progress through the zones

*

i made it to the fifth dungeon unlock but since there's almost certainly a trial afterwards and i have barely enough time to do the dungeon if i zoom through it, i'mma wait and do it in the morning

soooo wondrous tails time for picto ig

*

oh

thats just rude we didn't need that

*

ayyy alphi esti and shtola!

only reason theyve shown up just before i should be unlocking a trial is cos it can be done in trust? maybe? pls?

*

fuuuck that looks like a voidgate to me

zoraal ja wtf have you been doing

*

oh?

could it maybe lead to whichever reflection the alexandrian's are from

final zone in another shard? maybe?

*

so ig it’ll be like ‘we beat him he flees we chase’

boom final zone and trial and dungeon?

either that or sphene will actually be the final boss which still wouldn’t surprise me

*

the framing reminds me of hades ngl

like it tho

*

i know you're having a crisis but has it occured to you that you were born because your dad liked kids? like i know your entire existence is like. a miracle and gulool ja ja didn't know he could have bio kids til you were born but that man obviously lived for being a dad

*

this music-

just gonna sit here and listen to this for a bit before i enter the trial lol

*

genuinely forgot that y'shtola used to run around as a conjurer

it feels like so long ago now lol and i half expected them to have rdm healer ali again

*

okay his second phase actually looks cool

and isn't a massive floating head sitting at the edge of the arena which gives many bonus points

*

zoraal ja looks pretty dead to me and we still have a dungeon and trial to go so-

sphene, cachuia, or some third unknown threat? taking bets now

*

yeah it’s sphene 100% isn’t it

‘deliver my people’ huh

*

yeahhhh there we go

*

once again, i agree with ali

how many will you slaughter, sphene, so that your endless (yourself included) will live another day

how many children will you sacrifice so that your may live your hundredth lifetime

*

but they aren't remembered

i'm gonna scream how dare you say that when your system removes the memories of a deceased person from everyone who knew them

how dare you-

*

how dare you bring his mother into this

his mother, who everyone from his village has forgotten because of your system-

i-

*

don't worry koana, it's not the first time

this is basically a tuesday for me i'll keep your sister safe

*

i love him he's so sweet

i'm so glad gulool ja didn't turn out to be a trap

that probably would have broken my heart

*

that graphics update really looking peak on the af gear

wow

look at that metal

(now to time glam back over it)

*

so thw question is

another dungeon immediately?

huh nope

*

ooooooo it so pretty

it has canals

*

cachuia i'm guessing

i see where erenville gets the pretty from

*

oh

oh erenville love you're not going to take this well

your mother is dead and alive (did she get a choice? did they just pluck up her memories adn make her endless?) and she wants them all to die again

*

i love this

but also raha breaking my heart every expansion he's in

love him for that

*

oh so we're continuing to traumatise both erenville and wuk lamat i see

great

wonderful

thank you very much for that square

*

screaming crying throwing up why are you doing this to me

*

"I'm put in mind of Lyhe Mheg"

a tribe quest reference? in my final fantasy 14 msq?

*

this cutscene is legit one of my favourite parts of the expansion

sure we gotta shut down the memories of all these kids but we'll give them something nice before that

*

ayo wtf

those are kriles bio parents

so i see we’re spreading the trauma to krile to join with erenville and wuk lamat

glad she can maybe get some closure tho

*

love raha running up to krile and her parents and just chomping down on ice cream to break the ice between her parents

he’s such a good friend

*

....oh i hit the image cap.

alright part 2 incoming

[rosewriteroyal]

ECLIPSE

Chapter 2: You wear the sun on your skin

Jahan, leader of the sun rebellion against King Arthur and a young Arthrian, accientdently meet on the way to the meeting, problem is they both don't know eachother secrets.

Y/N= Y/N

MU/N= Made Up Name

3rd Person POV:

As Y/N walked back to their house, mind still rushing with the man from this evening, he was like a song that always stuck looping in your head, something about him, he was the sun itself.

Shaking their head, Y/N Stepped towards their front door, sitting on the step was their mother.

"I was worried sick, i thought you would have come home for dinner, you ungrateful brat."

Their mother screamed, slamming her glass down on the concert, smashing into tiny pieces, Y/N stepped back as their mother reached out to try and grab them.

They bolted, running into the main part of town, due to it being the morning, merchants where setting up stools for the town market, Y/N couldn't think about anything but hiding from their insane mother.

Ever since their dad died, mother has always been upset, even before had, Y/N swore they heard their mother say 'I never wanted that child', suddenly their dad was drafted for the war, they moved tonthe sun kingdom and from their things have always been abusive.

They spotted it up a head was a small alley way enough to fit them in, Y/N drived for the opening as they sunk into the darkness.

Jahan's living quarters (3rd Person):

"My lord, I come with an urgent news" A voice at the door said

"Come in than" Jahan shouted drying himself down and wrapping his towel around his waist

"Omg- sir," the maid said, as she stumbled apon a shirtless Jahan.

He was torn, a well-defined 6 pack, which went nicely with the tanned skin. He had tattoos littered all over, he was anyones dream.

"If your going to stare, please ask first" His gruff, deep voice said as he looked at the women waiting for the news

"Oh yes, the news. Their was an Arthurian at the meeting last night, no one knows what they look love but it was give to the guards by an anonymous source" The maid said

"Make sure everyone coming tonight's rally is watched 24/7, I want any slip ups taken care of, we can't have this plan wasted, we will be done for" Jahan said pulling in his shirt, leaving a few buttons open.

He wanted to impress MU/N, he felt so attracted to them and he didn't know why, something was different about them, that something he will take care of instead.

Y/N (3rd Person):

It was getting dark, and the rally was tonight, they need to see this man again. there was a connection there that they couldn't explain if they tried.

Sliding from the gap they bolted for behind the piller, their was no one outside, meaning they could walk freely but the risk of being caught by their mother was high, so sliding their way through the town until the ended upnat the address that Jihun has written Down, opening the door and being greeted by two guards

"Do have an invite" One of them said

"All I have is this" Y/N said, handing the paper to the guards

"Have a good night," the gaurd said, opening the door and letting Y/N in, the place was dark, their where maybe 6-7 other people at this rally.

"So that should be all of you" A voice said coming from the dark, that must have been Jahan.

"So why the creepy basement" One guy said, he than regretting it moments later when a fire stated on his pant leg

"Well we need to be safe and secretive" The voice said, Y/N thought they recognised the voice....

JIHUN IS JAHAN

Oh no, this is bad

Very

Very

Bad

Stepping out from shadows, their stood Jihun, no Jahan stood, same outfit as yesterday but cut lower, his inked covered chest showing, it could make anyone swoon....its made Y/N swoon.

'Why does this man have such an effect on me?' Y/N thought, as Jahan looked at them, a cheeky smile planted on his face.

OH NO, what's that suppose to mean......

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

Taglist:

@minheeskitten Zephyr :3

@dannswife Eli :3

[lillianawayne99]

Finally getting around to this, I didn't have time to do it when I saw the original post so it's been sitting in my drafts (oops). I'm going to do the first paragraph.

Leaving the tags open so anyone who wants to can join.

If it has a link, it's published.

CastAway (JJK Fanfic Series)

I opened my eyes to find it appeared to be dawn outside, but the sun was in the west rather than the east. Did I really sleep until dusk? The hospital room I was in didn't look like the one I fell asleep in. I arrived back in New York City yesterday and was cleared by the doctors, but they held me overnight for observation. The room I fell asleep in, the room in New York, had pale blue walls, white sheets, and a white bed with railings on it. The room I woke in had cream colored walls, a wooden bed with the rails lowered, white sheets, and a beige blanket at my feet.

Fireborn (GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic Series)

I didn’t remember my homeland nor had I stepped foot on Westerosi soil. I was born on Dragonstone in the midst of a raging summer storm. The following years in exile comprised of my brother ingraining one objective into me. Retake our father’s throne and kill the usurpers.

The Awakening (High Fantasy Dark Romance Novel)

There was something solid and warm wrapped around my hand. How long had it been since I felt something? Decades? Centuries? It couldn’t have been millennia, could it?

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) (JJK Fanfic)

I didn’t need to squint through the dim lighting to recognize where I was. I had never been here before, yet the bones encasing my form and the pool of blood beneath my feet told me everything I needed.

Not Afraid Anymore (JJK Fanfic)

A deep, reverberating chuckle echoed through the room as I looked up at the King of Curses sitting atop his throne. Leaning forward with his head resting in one hand, a smirk danced across his lips as he beckoned me forward.

Dark Side (JJK Fanfic)

Yakuza Therapist!Getou whose client is a tad bit traumatized and uses violence to cope but wants to stop. She has night terrors and sometimes they get so bad she goes to an underground fighting ring with no rules where everything’s handled quietly.

A concert, a leather jacket, and a shy girl (Flash Fiction)

It didn’t take long for me to lose myself in the roar of the crowd. The bass of the music My heart raced with the pounding bass of the music. Drowned out by the speakers and voices surrounding me, my throat stung as I sang the lyrics as loud as I could

Untitled (a dream that I might turn into something)

This one was really weird. I was at this college summer camp type thing only it wasn’t at a traditional college and was 21+ only. There weren’t any classrooms, but it was set up like a school building with halls and adjoining rooms along the halls. There were restaurants, bars, bedrooms, and random queen sized beds in the halls.

Secrets of the Past (Modern Fantasy Romance Novel)

I stared out of the window, looking out at the sprawling city surrounding me while the sterile smell of a hospital filled my nostrils. After eight years and two months, I was finally home in New York City, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. When I first got back, I thought that maybe the city had changed, but the longer I was home, the more I realized it was me that had changed.

Agathokakological (Crossover Fanfic Series)

My mother’s arm brushed against mine as we stood near the entrance to the town hall. The room was silent as everyone processed the information. Most were relieved. Their name, the name of someone in their family, wasn’t called. Their daughter or sister wouldn’t be sent to the temple tomorrow.

Dark Deeds (High Fantasy Novel - currently abandoned)

The culmination of a three cycle long war was staring me in the face. One battle would determine the fate of my home, my people. My life would never be the same after today. You would think that Lasadh and Beatha would be attempting to sack the capital of my home rather than facing me on the field. Most wars were fought and won in a series of sackings, but this battle was my only hope.

Fire and Brimstone (AOT Fanfic)

I never bothered to consider what happened after you died. Well, technically that’s a lie. I never believed in any culture’s idea of what happened. Heaven, hell, reincarnation. There wasn’t enough proof for me to put my faith in any religion. Accounts of near death experiences weren’t trustworthy either.

Medicine Man (JJK Fanfic)

I could have been walking for hours for all I knew. My clothes were soaked, hair dripping down my face and back. Halfway, I’d already started to shiver, desperate enough to tuck my hands into my arms. The moon had barely risen since the last time I checked, but it was lower in the sky when I left Mahito’s.

Venom (KPOP Fanfic - please don't judge me, I never intended to post this)

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been tied to this stupidly uncomfortable chair. Based on how often I was brought food, it’d been a few weeks since I was kidnapped. Every so often they were nice enough to let me stretch my legs and take me to a different room. What happened in those rooms wasn’t so nice, but at least I wasn’t stuck in the same position.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! © LillianaWayne - all rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, repost, or share on other platforms without my express, written permission.

First Lines Meme

@scifimagpie tagged me for this and I am leaving my own tag open, because I got a lot of you on the last few and maybe you need a break from that. >.>

Rules seem to be; Post the first lines of all your writing, finished or wip or whathaveyou.

It's unclear on how many lines...so I'm gunna wing it.

Which sounds fun, so let's go!

If it has a link, it's published

In the Marrow // Horror Short Story

It began with a crack. Not an especially loud crack, more of a creak really. The sort an old door makes when the house it inhabits has shrunk too tightly around it. An old, lazy creak just there in Hazel’s knees as she rose from her reading chair on an unseasonably warm autumn afternoon.

Can't You See Me? // Horror Short Story

Four weeks ago, I died. It was a rogue bit of insulation that did it. Well, that and the rafter it tripped me into…and the sharp, rusty nails. Mostly the nails. Certainly not my best moment but, as it turned out, not my last either. My last living moment, sure but I was still…there.

Don't Look // Horror Short Story

The apartment is cheap. Good area, rent controlled, a dream come true. Sure, it’s a bit drafty and the hinges creak and the pipes bang but that's normal for an old building. It's the smell that’s worrying. It’s only in the bedroom and it gets stronger near the hatch in the closet. The apartment is on the top floor and the landlady—a prune of a woman with eyes so orange they burn—says there isn’t attic space.

The Portrait // Horror Short Story

Miriam had never been fond of portraits. Whether painted or photographed, whether the subject was known or unknown; they made her uneasy. The sort of uneasy that landed one in hospitals for dangerous heart rates. It was the eyes. She believed that eyes were windows—intimate and revealing—and it was overwhelming to see so much of anyone, let alone without their permission.

Gravedust // Horror Novella or Novel (uncertain at the moment)

They say that, in my line of work, there are no accidents. That is true. There are eons of intent and planning. You have to make it look like an accident, however, or the critters start to get suspicious.

Weald and Wen // Dark Fantasy Novel

The Nothing screamed. Its hollow wail pierced the disquieting gray and cyan of the Darklands. Fyrni lands, Loahl's lands...and he heard it, loud and dreadful through the stillness and prayed to the Lady that the younglings did not.

Rite of the Dinfa // Dark Fantasy Novella

They packed us tight in the chill cave, with its bone white walls shining and wavering beneath the firelight, darkened by a single dancing shadow. Bare as we were, and huddled to braided, our flesh kept us heated more than the meager light of the smoking wood as the Cardinal leapt and spun—our Cardinal, as ourselves, could be whatever they wished but right then they were she.

Pale Blood // Urban Fantasy Novel

Delmas was on his way to the blood bank, on assignment to pick up a shipment, another in a long line of grunt work for his fellow fangs. They were all immortal—more or less—but the eldest of them kept their noses above the smog while their bodies languished in the slums. 

Mr. Friendly // Children's Book

This one is barely a thing yet but I am including it as motivation >.>

Tap Tap Tap There it was again. The soft tapping from somewhere in the room. Somewhere she couldn't see. Was it in the walls, in the floors? Father told her nothing was in the closet- he checked even, twice! Still the tapping came, softly, like little feet on hardwood. The kitty made that sound sometimes, when his nails were too long.

[hooned]

bonus: sunshine protectors 🥰

[laurentspup]

New bitch update?

i... have to apologize that it is taking me forever. i am not abandoning my child though, i just had a lot. and my mind keeps going back to the single dad damen au which i'm also trying my best to finish since it's so short and it's a november story T-T

BUT and this is true i have a week break soon and i only plan to write write write new bitch and i will update that week i WILL

still, here is a little sneak peek of the draft because why not

New Bitch Chapter VIII

“We won’t be getting any work done, will we?” Damianos says, the grin betraying his tone.

Laurent winks. “That’s not how I got into Vask Enterprises.”

Damianos’ grin grows wider, mouth opening as if to answer, when his door suddenly opens. Jokaste enters, her heels clacking on the pristine white tiled floors.

She’s looking at her iPad, unbothered, as if she has better things to do. Telling enemy secrets to Kastor, probably. 

Laurent doesn’t move away from Damianos. Jokaste doesn’t faze him either. Damianos stays there too, staring at her with a little more emotion than Laurent would ever show anyone.

Jokaste looks up. “I didn't know it’s bring your pet to work day.”

“Isn’t that everyday with you around? Hissing to Kastor about Damianos.” Laurent looks at her fingers. “Congratulations, by the way. The ring must be heavier than your conscience.”

“You’ll notice that, won't you?”

Damianos sits on his chair, but not before squeezing Laurent’s hand. Standing in between two snakes will really drain his energy quickly. 

Laurent follows suit, standing right next to his office chair, placing his elbow on the headrest. He feels the way Damianos leans nearer to him. Jokaste doesn’t show any reaction if she sees it.

She walks to Damianos’ table and places the iPad in front of him. There’s a spreadsheet on the screen, a color-coded schedule of Damianos’ day. At least Jokaste still does her job. 

“Your schedule for today.” Damianos picks it up to read. Laurent notices how he tilts the screen so he’ll have a view of it too. “You have a meeting at one with your PR because of your pictures from yesterday.”

“Had that meeting before?” Laurent can’t help saying.

There’s a pause so small, it’ll be unnoticeable if Laurent doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. 

“They’ll need a statement. You’ve been avoiding the media for too long now.” She continues. “You’re trending everywhere. It’s not long before it starts affecting your position.”

“Wouldn’t that be good for you and Kastor, though?” It’s Damianos who mutters. 

Laurent doesn’t hide his amused expression. “Still, sorry for stealing your number one spot on the trending page. I know you paid a lot for the press coverage.”

Her expression stays the same, but there’s a difference in the way she’s holding herself, like she never expected Damianos to address her infidelity so boldly in the open. She ignores Laurent’s statement, however.

“I’m sure they’ll be glad to know you brought him to be briefed too.” She simply continues.

“Oh, I'm not just here for that.” There’s a glint in Laurent’s eyes. His tone makes her finally look at him. “Damen, tell her, what else I’m here for.”

Jokaste raises her perfectly plucked eyebrows as she returns her gaze to Damianos, expression bored. 

“I found a new secretary.” Damianos isn’t even sparing her a glance. “Please show Laurent around and teach him your responsibilities. Once you’re done, you can pack your things.”