#I sketched up the divorced man to be but I’m still thinking about the others

[tariah23]

Been thinking about oc’s today

[middleearthpixie]

Human Touch ~ Chapter One

A/N: This is the follow up to Playing With Fire, but can be read as a standalone. I thought Frerin deserved a nice, steamy romp just like his older brother got with Leda, so this is his story. I know I’ve got like three other fics to update, but I thought maybe I’d throw this out there and see what everyone thought of it… 

Summary: Frerin Durin had the perfect life, until he found out his wife was cheating on him. Now, he’s navigating uncharted territory as an about-to-be divorced single dad. Dating is a mess, he’s dealing with the fallout where his kids are concerned, and really, he would just love a vacation away from all of it. 

Elena Madison is new to Sidleburg, new to the history department at the high school, and also navigating life as a newly single parent. The last thing she needed was for her daughter to come down sick, when she hasn’t even had time to unpack the moving boxes, never mind find a pediatrician. And the last thing she ever expected was to meet a man like Dr. Frerin Durin…

Neither Elena nor Frerin were looking for anything, but fate has a way of messing up even the best laid plans. However, both have been hurt and both aren't at all sure they trust themselves, never mind trusting someone else...

Pairings:  Modern!Frerin  x OFC Elena Madison

Characters: Frerin, Elena, Alyssa, Nurse Angela Hart, Nurse Leigh Addams

Warnings: None (yet)

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.1k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

I know I ain’t nobody’s bargain, but hell, a little touch-up and a little paint ~ Bruce Springsteen

December 15

Monday night, 2:50AM

“Dr. Durin?”

Frerin rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but we just got a call from the ER. They need you down there.”

“What time is it, Leigh?”

“Ten to three.”

He bit back a groan as he sat up. He was getting too old for being yanked out of bed in the middle of the night. “Okay. I’m coming. What is it?”

“A six year old with exposure.”

“Exposure?”

“That’s what they said.”

He slid down from the bed where he was tying to catch some sleep in the on call room, and grabbed his white coat from the foot of it. “What the hell was a six year old doing out in this?” He gestured to the sleet pounding against the window. 

“I don’t know,” Nurse Leigh Addams shook her head as he joined her in the hallway. The lights were softer than normal, since it was the middle of the night, but he was still mole-eyed. 

“Damn it, do you know where I left my steth?”

“Take mine, but give it back.” She reached up to drape it around his neck, then gave him a gentle push. “Go.”

“I’m going.” He rubbed his eyes as he turned to make his way to the elevators. The pediatric unit was on the eighth floor, and fortunately, the elevator was quick. He was alone in the car, and all he could think about was getting a cup of coffee. Caffeine was a must when he worked the night shift. His days of being able to power through without it were firmly behind him.

The doors slid open and where the pediatric unit was fairly quiet at almost three in the morning, the ER was a bit busier and must’ve been for some time, judging by the sheer number of patients he saw. The rooms and curtain areas must’ve been at capacity, since there were nearly half a dozen patients on gurneys in the hallway as well. He moved by them, dodged paramedics clattering by with their stretchers, and at the main desk, said, “You called, Angela?”

Angela Hart smiled. “Dr. Durin, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you on nights.”

“Yeah, well, McArthur is out with the flu, so someone has to cover. Where is the frozen six year old?”

“Paramedics are rolling up now.”

He rubbed his eyes again. “Is there coffee in the lounge?”

“There should be, but it might be from the day shift.”

“It’s caffeine. I don’t care if I have to chew it. Let me know when the kid’s back.” 

The lounge was directly across from the main desk, and thank Christ the coffee seemed fresh. He poured a cup, raided the fridge for half and half, only to find nothing but flavored creamers. He wrinkled his nose, but grabbed the French vanilla and poured it into the cup. 

“Frerin,” Angela poked her head into the lounge, “your boy is in Trauma One.”

“Okay.” He swallowed a mouthful of coffee, winced as it scalded its way down his throat, and then he set the cup on the table. “I’m coming.”

Trauma One was down the short hallway and to his right, one of three in the ER, as they were the county trauma center when Robert Wood Johnson University Hospital was too far for transport. He hadn’t spent much time in the ER lately, but had spent enough that he knew the ER docs and nurses, they knew him, and they all worked well together. 

“Okay,” he said as he came into the room, “give me the bullet…”

“Mom?”

Elena Madison bit back a groan at her daughter’s whisper. “What is it, Alyssa?”

“I don't feel well.”

Elena lifted her head to squint at the clock. Three-thirty in the morning. She reached over to switch on the lamp. “What’s wrong?”

“My throat really hurts and I can’t get warm and everything hurts.”

“Do you want to sleep here, with me?”

“Can I?”

“Come on.”

Alyssa climbed up into the bed and snuggled up against her. Heat wafted from her daughter’s body, hot enough that Elena laid a hand on her forehead. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

“A while. I felt funny when I was doing my homework, but thought I was just tired. But now… I really feel awful.”

“Let me see if I can find the thermometer. It might not be unpacked yet.”

Alyssa squinted at the light and nodded. “Okay.”

Elena frowned. Alyssa looked pale. Almost chalk-white, actually. The flu was going around at Sidleburg High, where she was a freshman. Oh, she hoped it wasn't that. They’d only been in town a few days, she hadn’t had time to find any kind of doctors yet and didn't even know where the nearest medimerge was.

Still, she got up and padded into the bathroom, where she searched for the digital thermometer. Luck was on her side. It was tucked into her makeup bag. 

She brought it back to her bedroom. “Under your tongue, peanut.”

Alyssa nodded as she opened her mouth and let Elena slip the thermometer under her tongue.  Then, she sat very quietly, just resting her head against Elena’s shoulder until the thermometer beeped.

Alyssa pulled it out and frowned. “One-oh-two, Mom.”

“Okay, tell you what, why don’t you just stay here and try to get some sleep and if it gets any higher, we’ll run to the ER?”

Alyssa winced. “Everything just hurts… I don't even want to lay down.”

Elena sighed softly. “Do you want to go see a doctor?”

“Will it help?”

“I don't know. It’s probably just the flu, but it might not be, either.” Elena gently pressed her hand to Alyssa’s forehead only to have her flinch and jerk back with a muted cry. “Okay. We’ll go over to the ER. Let me throw some clothes on, okay?”

Alyssa nodded and gingerly lay down to curl into the fetal position. “Okay.”

Elena grabbed a hoodie to tug on over her tee shirt, The leggings she had on would suffice, so she tugged on thick socks and her work boots, ran a brush through her hair and tugged it up into a hasty bun. “Ready, honey?”

Alyssa nodded slowly, sitting up with a wince. “My hair hurts.”

“Yeah, fevers do that. Come on.” Elena eased an arm about Alyssa’s waist and gently helped her to her feet. “Let me just grab my keys and we can go.”

Outside, Alyssa sucked in a sharp breath. “The snow hurts…”

“I know, baby, I know. I’ll have the car warmed up in a jiffy, I promise.” She helped Alyssa around to the passenger side of her Accord and gingerly fastened the seat belt. “Just close your eyes and try to sleep a little if you can. We’ll be there in a few minutes, if I don't get lost.”

“Try not to get lost, Mom.”

“I’ll do my best, Sarge.”

That earned her a weak smile and she pressed a light kiss into Alyssa’s hot forehead. Then, she closed the car door, skirted the car’s nose, and sank into the driver’s seat. 

The advantage to trying to find Sidleberg Memorial Hospital in the dead of night was there wasn’t a lot of traffic. The downside? She still didn't know exactly where it was and even with the GPS, it took her longer than she would have liked to find it. But finally, she swung the car into the driveway, looped around to pull up in front of the big revolving door leading to the ER.

“We’re here, honey. Let’s get you inside and I’ll move the car, okay?”

Alyssa nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Good. Come on, baby, small steps. We’re almost there.”

“I’m so cold…”

Elena came around to grab her about the waist. It might have only been her imagination, but it seemed more heat radiated from her daughter than before and she shivered as well now. “Easy, honey. We’re almost there.”

“I just want to lay down, Mom.”

“I know. Soon.” She nudged the door with her hip to close it, then slowly walked Alyssa into the brightly lit waiting room and guided her over to a chair. “I’ll be right back.”

Alyssa nodded, curling into a ball once more. “Okay, Mom.”

Elena crossed to the reception desk, where the nurse sat behind a plexiglass wall. “How can I help you?”

“I think my daughter has the flu, but her temperature has really shot up in the last half hour. It was one-oh-two when we left and I think it’s gone up.”

“Her name?”

“Alyssa Madison.”

“Date of birth?”

Elena gave her the information, dug out her insurance card, and waited as the nurse typed all of the info into the computer system. The nurse offered up a reassuring smile. “She’ll be brought back as soon as possible, Mrs. Madison.”

“Thank you.”

She went back to where Alyssa sat and not five minutes later, another nurse, in cranberry colored scrubs, came over to them with a wheelchair and a hospital bracelet. “Alyssa?”

“Yeah?” 

“I’m Carol, how are you feeling?”

“Like crap.” Alyssa looked over at Elena. “Sorry, Mom.”

“It’s okay.” Elena ruffled her hair. “You get a pass because you look like you feel like crap.”

Carol smiled. “I know, there’s a lot of flu going around.” She looked up at Elena. “Who is your pediatrician?”

“We don't have one yet. We’re new to the area.”

“Well, you’re in luck. We’ve got the head of the department here tonight and he’s really good. So,” she fastened the bracelet about Alyssa’s right wrist, “why don't we get you back into a bed and get you a nice heated blanket?”

“I’ve got to go move my car,” Elena said, gesturing to the black Accord still in front of the door. 

“That’s not a problem. Gloria will buzz you back and tell you where to find us. Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll keep an eye on her. Can you move over into the chair for me, Alyssa?”

“Sure.” 

As Alyssa moved, Elena went out to park her car in the parking deck. There was spot just beyond where the ambulances charged, and she quickly locked the doors and hurried back inside, where Gloria told her she’d find Alyssa in Room Six, and told her where she’d find Room Six.

Alyssa was dozing, looking almost as pale as the hospital linens and Carol was still there. “Her temp is one-oh-two-point-three. You made the right decision in bringing her in, Mom. Is she allergic to any anything?”

“Cashews,” Elena said with a slight smile as she cast a worried look over at her daughter. “They make her lips and tongue tingle and swell.”

“Is she on any medications?”

“No. She’s always been a healthy kid. Aside from finding out about the cashews, anyway.”

“And medical conditions? Heart or kidney problems?”

“No. Again, she’s a healthy kid.”

“Okay. We’re a little busy, but it shouldn’t take Dr. Durin long. If you want to watch television, the remote is on the tray.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

After Carol left, Elena sank into the single chair alongside Alyssa’s bed with a soft sigh, reaching up to rub one eye. It was nearly three-thirty. Thank God tomorrow was Saturday. She hated calling out sick when she’d only been there a few weeks, but would have had no choice if it was a weekday. She had no idea how long they would be there, and had no idea if Alyssa was sick with the flu or something worse, and she had no support system aside from herself. The last thing she wanted to do was call Alyssa’s father and even if she wanted to, there was no point. He and his girlfriend were in Aruba for the holidays.

She sighed softly, tucking her legs up under her and propped her head on her fist as CNN played softly on the television. 

She didn't know she’d dozed off until she heard a soft, “Mrs. Madison?” and felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

She jumped as if someone had shouted at her. “I’m up… I—I mean, I’m Mrs. Madison… yes…”

“Sorry. I tried to not to startle you.”

“No, it’s—it’s okay. I didn’t even know I fell asleep.” She rubbed her eyes slowly and squinted up to find herself looking at a rather tired-looking man in white lab coat with a hot pink stethoscope around his neck who moved to the box of latex exam gloves and tugged two free. 

“I’m Dr. Durin. This is your daughter,” he glanced down at the chart in his hand, “Alyssa?”

“Yes. I think she might have the flu, but I’m not sure. She’s had a cold for the last two days, but tonight started running a fever and it shot up pretty quickly.”

“Okay. You’re probably right, but I’ll check her just the same.” He set the chart down on the counter and pulled on the gloves. “You’re welcome to stay in the room, or if you want to step out, I’ll have a nurse come in, instead.”

“I’ll ask Alyssa.”

“Fair enough.” He smiled. “Don’t look so worried, Mom. She’s in good hands.”

“I didn't realize it was my worry was showing.”

“I can see it.” He moved closer to the bed and gave Alyssa a gentle shake. “Alyssa? Can you open your eyes for me?”

“What… who… who are?”

“I’m Dr. Durin. Mom said you’re sick? You think you might have the flu?”

“Maybe. I thought it was just a cold, but now… I’m freezing and the nurse said my fever got higher.”

“One-oh-two-point-three. Yeah, I’d say you’re definitely sick.” He touched the top of her head. “Does that hurt?”

“Everything hurts.”

“That’s the fever. We’ll give you some Tylenol to help, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now,” he lifted the stethoscope from around his neck to fit the earpieces in place, “do you want Mom to stay or would you rather Carol stay while I examine you?”

“Mom can stay.” Alyssa managed a slight smile. “I like your stethoscope. Pink is my favorite color.”

“Oh, yeah? This isn’t mine. Mine went missing, so I borrowed it from one of the nurses. I think she has a purple one, too.”

“I didn't know they came in different colors.”

“They do, indeed. You name the color, you can find one in it.” He warmed the diaphragm part of the stethoscope between his palms, then slid it beneath her hospital gown, bringing his free hand up to hold a finger to his lips for minute. Then, he moved it, saying, “Take a deep breath for me?”

She did. He moved it again. “Another, please.”

She did and he slid the stethoscope free. “Can you sit forward for me, Alyssa?”

She nodded and did, then began coughing. He waited until she finished. “Do you need a drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay, Dr. Durin.”

“Okay.” He pressed the stethoscope to her back. “Again, a deep breath for me.”  

She did and then he tugged the ear pieces from his ears and draped the stethoscope around his neck once more. “Okay. You can lie back,” before picking up her chart to make a notation. “Your lungs sound clear and that’s a good thing.”

She sighed softly as she sank into the pillow. “What color is yours?”

“My steth? I’m afraid it’s boring gray.” 

“You should get a pink one.”

Elena pressed her lips together to hold back her smile as Dr. Durin said, “You think so? It wouldn’t make me look dorky?”

Alyssa shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“I’ll think about it.” He set her chart on the tray table and brought his hands to her neck, feeling around and under her jaw. “Glands are a little swollen. Do you have a sore throat?”

“It’s a little scratchy. It was worse yesterday.”

“How much worse?”

“It felt like razor blades.”

“How old are you, Alyssa?”

“I’ll be fourteen on the twenty-ninth.”

“Yeah? My daughter’s about your age. Are you a freshman?”

“Yeah.”

“So’s Maura. How do you like school?”

“I like everything but algebra.”

“I hated algebra myself. I like Chem and Bio. Anytime there was a chance I could blow something up, I was there.”

Alyssa chuckled. “I can’t wait to take Chem.”

“Mom, how is she doing in school?”

“Don’t let her fool you. She’s a straight-A student.”

“Really? Good for you, Alyssa. Keep those grades up and get into a good college.” He took a pencil flashlight from his pocket. “Do me a favor? Follow the light with just your eyes, okay? Don’t turn your head.”

“I won’t.”

Elena tucked her legs back under her as Dr. Durin then shined the light in first Alyssa’s left eye, then her right, and then straightened to tuck the flashlight back in his coat pocket. “Okay. I’d like to draw some blood, Mom, if I can, just to rule out a few things. I think it’s flu, and lord knows we’ve seen enough of it, but I want to be sure, because she’s a little sensitive to the light.” 

He turned back to Elena. “It’s probably the fever, but we’ve also seen a few cases of meningitis, so I want to rule that out entirely.”

“That’ll show in a blood test?”

He nodded. “It can, so that’s where we’ll start.”

“Do I have to get a shot?”

He turned back to Alyssa. “No, I don't think so, but I do want to take some blood. I promise you, Carol has the lightest touch and you’ll barely even feel it, okay?”

Alyssa’s pale face went paler still. “I don't like needles.”

“It’s not really a needle, Alyssa. It’s smaller, and I promise, I’ll only take a little bit.” He patted her through the blanket then looked back at Elena, peeling the gloves off to toss in the trashcan. “Mom, can I have a word with you?”

Elena’s stomach curdled as she nodded and rose to follow him out of the exam room. “Is something wrong?”

“No. But, I’ll need your permission to draw the blood and if necessary, to do a lumbar puncture.”

“A what?”

“A spinal tap. But,” he held out a hand as she opened her mouth to protest, “that’s only if the bloodwork comes up inconclusive. So, it’s a last resort, I promise. I do think’s it’s the flu, but like I said, we’ve had a few cases of meningitis and I don't want to risk it.”

She sighed softly, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear. “I suppose. I hate the idea of a spinal tap, though.”

“It’s only if I can’t rule it out through the bloodwork. And I’d give her plenty of local anesthetic so she wouldn’t feel much.”

Elena sighed again. She supposed at one time, she’d have wished Alyssa’s father was there, helping her make the tough decisions. But then she remembered that the reason she was there alone because he didn't care about making any decisions with her or being a team. He was far more interested if where he could stick his cock next.

So, slowly, and not at all certain she was making the right decision, she nodded. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Madison,” he told her with a hint of a smile. “I’ve done more of these than I can count and she won’t feel it. I promise.”

“Do I look that worried?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry… I just… I just thought it was a cold and then—”

“It’s been a rough flu season, and like I said, that’s probably what this is. I just want to be sure.”

“I know.” She peered around the doorway at Alyssa, who looked even younger now, her eyes closed, and she fought back a sigh. “But… that’s my kid.”

“I know.” He smiled. “I’ve got three of my own and I would react the same way if I was in your shoes. But, I promise you, Mrs. Madison, I won’t do it unless I have to.”

She looked back at him. “Okay. But, if you were me, would you agree to it?”

“I would. If it’s something like meningitis, you don't want to play around with it.”

“I know that. I do. I’m mostly a rational adult person, but—”

“It’s different when it’s your kid.”

Elena nodded, rubbing her forehead with one hand as she sighed softly for at least the third time. She couldn’t remember the last time she was so damn tired. “It’s different when it’s your kid. And I already hate being in the ER for something like this, but we don’t have a pediatrician yet and I don't even know if there’s a medimerge type place anywhere in town.”

“It’s okay that you brought her here.” He reached out to touch her shoulder. “It’s better to be safe than sorry. In all honesty, I do think it’s just the flu. I just prefer to err on the side of caution. So, I’ll have Carol come in and do the draw and when the results come in, I’ll come find you, okay? The cafeteria is closed, unfortunately, but there is a coffee machine just down the hallway if you could use a boost.”

She managed a slight laugh. “There isn’t enough caffeine in the world for a night like this.”

“I know. I’ve been there. Like I said, I’ve got three kids and they never get sick at good times. But, she’s in good hands. I promise.”

Elena nodded and rubbed her eyes this time. They stung with a fury and she really just wanted to curl up in a ball and let them close. But, since she couldn’t, she lowered her hand to look up at him  “I know.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I have the results of her bloodwork. You can use your cell in here if you want to call your husband.”

“There is no husband. It’s just me and Alyssa.”

“Okay, well… if there’s anything you need, just let Carol know, okay?”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He smiled and then started off down the hallway. She stood there for a moment, just watching, and then berated herself silently since it was not the time to be thinking about how beautiful his blue-gray eyes were. Not when she was waiting to find out if Alyssa had meningitis or not.

So with a sigh, she went back into the room and back to her chair, where Alyssa offered up a tired smile and said, “I like him, Mom. He’s nicer than Dr. Garrett was. Cuter, too.”

“Alyssa.”

“Oh, tell me he isn’t.”

“I thought you were sick?”

Alyssa tugged the blanket back up to her chin. “Mom, you could totally land a doctor. Dad would stew in envy if you did.”

“I’m not looking to land anyone, Alyssa. Especially not tonight.”

“I’m just saying. You could.”

“Alyssa?” Carol tapped softly on the door and came into the room. “Dr. Durin asked me to draw some blood.”

Alyssa went paler still as she nodded. “If you have to.”

“Mom, I just need you to sign the consent form and then we’ll get started.”

Elena looked over the form and sighed as Carol tugged on a pair of gloves and unwrapped the kit. Alyssa held out her left hand. “Mommy?”

Mommy. Elena couldn't remember the last time Alyssa called her that. Without hesitation, Elena caught Alyssa’s hand and whispered, “It’ll be fine, peanut,” as Carol tied the rubber tubing about Alyssa’s right arm. Alyssa sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening about Elena’s, and Elena kept whispering, “It’s okay, sweetie.”

“All done,” Carol said, untying the tourniquet and pressing a small piece of gauze into the crook of Alyssa’s arm. She unwrapped a Band-Aid and pressed that over the gauze. “Try to get some sleep, Alyssa. Hopefully the results won’t take long, but you never know. We’re crazy busy tonight and I have no idea how backed up the lab might be.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Do you need anything?”

“No, we’re fine.” Elena looked over at Alyssa, who was already asleep. “I just need her to get better.”

“She will. And Dr. Durin will be in as soon as the results are in as well.”

“Thank you again.”

Carol smiled and left with the vials, and a few minutes later, despite her uncomfortable position, Elena managed to doze off as well. 

[sunshinereddie]

needing comfort quotes 1 & 30~ I am craving a bit of hurt/comfort rn <3

-🫀

1: “This is stupid--I’m stupid.”

after leaving myra and trying to flip his life around, eddie starts to have doubts.

he knows that he’s done what’s best for him, but still, he had house, a good job, and sure he’s never really loved his wife and the thought of going back to her makes him sick- but he can’t stop hearing his mom and his wife’s voices in his head telling him that he’s made a mistake.

eddie’s staying with richie while he gets things sorted out, but there’s a point where the voices in his head get too much, and eddie is this close to not going through with the divorce.

one night, when eddie is struggling with what to do, he’s really hard on himself for not being able to do this, and with his head in his hands and tears threatening to spill, he murmurs, “this is stupid. i’m stupid.”

now richie, of course, doesn’t put up with any of this. he loves eddie so much, and it hurts him that eddie doesn’t see how brave and strong he is as well.

richie says, “remember what i told you, back in derry?” “that i’d be the best for a sacrifice because i could fit on the barbecue?” “no, smartass- that you’re brave. fuck, you’re the bravest person i know. and i know that all of this is… scary, and confusing, and i know you’ve probably got about a million thoughts racing around in that little brain of yours, but eds, i need you to remember. you are not stupid. you’re so brave. and you can do this.”

now, this is the part where richie would have liked to end it off with a confessional “i love you”, but he doesn’t know if now is the right time. after all, eds is going through about three mid-life crises at the same time, richie doesn’t think that him confessing his 30 year love for eddie would make things any better, so he holds off-

“i love you, richie.”

richie doesn’t need to worry about his confession, because eddie beats him to it.

30: "Why can't you understand? You're too good for me!"

richie’s been struggling with his sexuality for the past 30 years. even after he and eddie finally confess their lifelong feelings for each other and get together, that struggle doesn’t disappear.

he loves eddie, and he knows that eddie loves him too, but when he’s been telling himself that what he feels is wrong for almost his entire life, it’s hard to get out of that mindset.

plus, not to mention eddie is… eddie. he’s successful, he’s put together, he wakes up before noon. meanwhile, the accomplishments richie has to show for himself are a drinking problem and shitty comedy sketches written by someone else and performed under his name. big whoop.

richie’s always admired eddie, and one day he gets down on himself thinking that eddie can do better than him. “why can’t you understand?” he asks one time in a flurry of self doubt. “you’re too good for me!”

eddie won’t put up with that. “richie, you’re the best person i know,” he says. “you’re loyal, you were always trying to protect me when we were kids. you’re the best person to talk to when i need to cry, or if i need to feel better, or... anything. you’ve always been my go-to person. you’re so... you’re so loving, and when i’m with you, i feel like the luckiest guy on earth. richie, i love you. i always have. so don’t you dare say, or even think that you’re not good enough for me. you are the man i fell in love with. and i wouldn’t change it for anything.” 

richie still has a long way to go with his self-acceptance. but he knows that with eddie by his side, well, it might be a little easier. 

“besides,” eddie says, bringing richie into his arms. “we’re both losers anyways, aren’t we?”

richie can’t help but smile.

thanks for the request! (prompts here)

[extremelyblackandwhite]

dress

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: cheating, smut, age gap, angst, blackmailing 

a/n: the reader is at least 10 years younger than lee. if that upsets you, please don’t read this work. additionally, i based reader’s 60′s style mostly out of  that oufit margot robbie wore for once upon a time in hollywood and megan from mad men, you can see my inspiration outfits here [x] [x] hope you enjoy it xx

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try and if I get burned, at least we were electrified. I'm spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we're both drunk. Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about all of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you ...

The rain fell harshly and unkindly on the pavement for the fifth day in a row, the sun having forsaken the forgotten hellish town that was Knockemstiff, Ohio. Few could say the name and ever fewer dared to enter the town. Even God’s afraid of it, his mother would tell him after nursing what felt like another one of her endless bottles of liquor. It was a haunted town, not a lot left and those who did never crossed paths with it again. Murder and crime were all time highs but not even the government dared to come in and try to to anything which meant any police force in the town were like gods, deciding who lived and who didn’t. One of those god-like men was Lee Bodecker, however he preferred you called him Sheriff Lee Bodecker.  He was a chubby man in his early thirties, tall but the beer belly made him hunch making him look shorter than he was. He had once been the envy of the town, one of the most handsome men of the town but years of living in Knockemstiff wear down everyone. His own poison had been alcohol which had ended up with him in therapy with his wife and with a therapist who had told him to curb the craving of alcohol with sweets instead. It had little to nothing as he still drank like his life depended on it and tonight was no different from other nights. He took off his hat as he entered the local bar in town, the only bar in town, and everyone looked his way, silence installing the ever noisy bar. He liked it, Lee liked it. He knew he was not the handsome one, in fact his look made him quite funny so he made himself scary. Lee made sure that everyone who looked his way, heard his voice or saw his shadow was afraid of him. It definitely worked as once he sat on the bar stool, there was already a glass with 5 fingers of his favourite drink. 

Everything was silence except for the mumbling of men discussing their days until suddenly the mumbling was no longer about the hell that was living in Knockemstiff. He turned around in his chair and understood why the men were suddenly so interested. There she was, dressed in a high neck black shirt which stood over a white skirt. Matching go go boots left her legs bare, something women in Knockemstiff did not do, still stuck in decades of last. She wasn’t from around and everyone knew it merely by the way she dressed but Sheriff Bodecker knew different. Men watched like dogs as she made her way to the bar, to his side. 

     - Y/N. - he greeted her. - What are you doing here? Trying to disrupt the town?

     - My grandmother died.

     - I heard. My condolences.

     - She left me all of what was hers including the house so I’m here to sell it. 

     - The one in Brewer Heights? - she nodded. - Tis a nice house, but I don’t think anyone here would have enough to buy it.

     - I’ll decide that. - she held the glass the bartender in between her hands, her eyes roaming over to his hands were his wedding ring had started to become tight around his finger. - Still with Jane?

     - Why wouldn’t I be? - he cocked an eyebrow at her. - What are you doing here, Y/N?

    - I told you, I’m here to sell ...

    - No. - he interrupted. - Why are you here, at the bar? What do you want?

    - Nothing ...  I see you’re not in the mood to help me anyways. - she got up from the stool she had sat on, straightening her skirt as her feet hit the floor. - Good evening, Sheriff Bodecker. 

He was sat, watching her leave but also giving an aura to the men who too watched the modern girl exit the building not to get any ideas. Lee knew these men, they were like dogs and once a suitable amount of time passed, he took to returning to his cruiser and follow her. How could he trust this town with her, an outsider? Y/N had been brought up in Knockemstiff, the daughter of store owners who had both been killed in an assault gone wrong. After that, she was ushered to live with her grandmother, the last of socialites in Knockemstiff. Rumours said her grandmother had moved from New York to wed with a penniless man already expecting once she wore her wedding gown. Rumours or not, she still held much more money than anyone in the town together and she wasted not a cent in her granddaughter’s education, moving to a more upscale house in Brewer Heights once she got her under her care. She was always the one with everything and Lee remembered seeing her while still an officer driving around a brand new glossy red car, hair loose through the wind. In all honesty, he thought her never too leave town but as she reached her tender 21st year of life, she left leaving everything behind. 

He parked outside her grandmother’s home, stopping just a bit away from it looking at the house that was so eerily sketched in his mind. He leaned against his seat watching Brewer Heights, the place he so wanted to have lived in his youth. Of course he now owned a place there too but it was faint, fickle. If he were to not be sheriff anymore all would shatter. He would do everything he could to keep his position. He deserved it, he deserved it more than any damned soul on this planet. A knock on the glass removed him from his mind state as he looked the way of his window to see her. 

     - Can I come in? - she asked, eyes lingering on the passenger seat. He stretched over to the side, opening the door for her but not exiting the car. She entered, closing the door as she sat on the seat. - I’ve always hated when you were mad at me. 

     - I’m not mad.

     - You have no reason to be. I know what you’re mad about and it’s your own fault, you know that.

     - Is it my fault you left? - his hands tightened against the wheel of his cruiser, anger coursing through his veins. Lee never liked to hear the truth.

    - She knew, Lee and she was right ... If anyone knew, if the town knew I would’ve been ruined and I didn’t deserve that. You must understand I didn’t deserve that. 

    - I didn’t deserve you leaving without saying a fucking thing now did I, darl’?

    - You were married. - she almost spat the words in his face. - You are married, Lee. Now you can be mad at me all you want, you can hate me for all I give a damn but I was not gonna destroy myself for your happiness, and I will certainly not allow you to destroy yourself for lust. 

    - Y/N ...

    - I don’t need your help anymore and I would enjoy it if you parked your cruiser away from my house. I wouldn’t want any rumours about your infidelities to resurface. - she exited the car and climbed the small incline of grass up to her home. Lee still remembered seeing her in a little white dresses her grandmother would buy for her, climbing that incline while holding the fabric so it wouldn’t fly up. She seemed to have gotten the hang of it.

Lee had met Y/N when she volunteered at the station back when he was still a patrol officer. She did the duties of every single secretary plus cleaning which was what she had volunteered for. It’ll be good for my university application, she told him when Lee asked what she was doing there. She started at 17 and remained there until she was 18 and ready to leave and become something other than a Knockemstiff resident. However, her mother having sudden heart attack ruined her plans and she decided to stay to take care of her. Lee didn’t see her for two whole years until she was 20 years old and he spotted her at the supermarket getting an earful from Mr. Collins about dropping a bottle of olive oil while trying to reach something from the higher shelf. Lee didn’t like it, he didn’t like Mr. Collins berating her for a simple mistake so he stepped in. He remembered her thanking him before reintroducing herself to him. 

He wasn’t one to be swayed by women, he’d married his Jane when he was fresh out of high school and while his relationship was more than stale, he had his mind on work and alcohol. Sure he could’ve divorced, found someone else but he wasn’t the teenager he used to be anymore, he was hardly someone who women would be attracted to besides a single man for a Sheriff? That surely wasn’t gonna happen. Yet, he couldn’t help but be entranced by her, fresh into adulthood with a mind full of ideas about what she wanted to do. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to start a relationship with her, to start an affair yet he couldn’t say he regret it. He didn’t regret the nights where she’d meet him in the woods, covered by a black trench coat. He could still feel his, his hands against her back, feeling the fabric of her undergarments as the windows fogged. 

Y/N was upset. Her friends had told her she better not expect the man who she had left without any notice to help her but she was upset. What choice did she have? After her grandmother heard about it, it would’ve taken no time for everyone in town to hear about it and she would’ve been a disgrace and Lee would’ve certain not become Sheriff. Nevertheless she was upset. Instead, she asked an old friend from school, Billy. It was no surprise he was here, nobody left, nobody ever left. She had left but yet here she was once again, 4 years later wondering about an affair which shouldn’t have happened. Her grandmother had berated her for ages “you don’t sleep with a married man” and of course she knew she shouldn’t yet she had. She didn’t know better. 

She had boxes and boxes packed with whatever it was left of the house, photo books, clothing, bedding, all of it packed. Once she got to New York she could sort through it but right now all she wanted to was leave. Her friends even offered to come over and do it for her but the damned lawyer said it had to be her. In the morning she waited for Billy in the steps of her home, dressed in one of her old 50′s fashioned white dress, a far cry from the mini skirts she used at home and off he came in the exact same car he had when they were both teens. 

   - Y/N, look at you. - he walked off the car. - You look gorgeous, darl’. 

   - Thank you, Billy. - she scratched the back of her head. - Uhm it’s only 5 big boxes. I’ll pay for the gas if you help me take them to post office. 

   - You’re not keeping the house?

   - And live in Knockemstiff? - she rolled her eyes, climbing up the stairs to grab the boxes from the front of the door. The boy helped her pack the car before the two hopped onto the car. - So, how’s the town been?

   - Nothing changes. Mr. Collins died, no one was upset about it and that Bodecker guy became Sheriff. - he light up a cigarette as he turned on the engine. - It’s still as boring as its been and people mostly gossip around the same old gossip.

   - What’s new in gossip?

   - Eleanor still says you and Bodecker were fucking. - he chuckled. - As if ... I mean, look at you, you were prom queen and he’s a fat bastard. 

    - You should watch your mouth, Billy. He’s the sheriff. 

    - Because he bought it. - he shrugged. - Dad says he’s pretty much doing everyone’s dirty work. I mean his sister and her husband disappeared and were found dead. 

    -  I don’t really care for that type of gossip. - she leaned against the seat, watching the trees pass by. It wasn’t that she and Billy were good friends but she needed help and she’d rather die than go beg Lee to help her out. She had tried and it’d failed. Besides what was the worse that could happen?

The worse that could happen became very clear as instead of driving into town he took a left into the woods. She rose her head from the seat as all the ways one could reach town rushed through her mind. This definitely wasn’t one of them, it was hard to even get to the town through the woods. She knew that because, well ... it was where she would meet Lee to ensure no one from town found them. The car came to a stop and Billy got off the car. Maybe he just needed to pee or to get some air. She waited til he was on his back to open the car door and start running but he rushed after her, grabbing her arm and throwing her to the ground before standing over her, hands holding her wrists above her head.

   - Billy, what are you doing? - stay calm, that was what they always taught her, stay calm. 

   - Come on, Y/N. They always wanted us to be together in high school, remember? 

   - I don’t know what you’re talking about. Billy, calm down. 

   - You fucking calm down. I know you want me too, Y/N. You called me, you need my help, darl’. I can make you feel so damn good ... - his mouth lowered down and she started to trash around, trying to get rid of him. 

   - Stop, please stop. - she looked up at the sky, the morning sun barely up as she recalled why you don’t come back to Knockemstiff. You don’t get back because you get stuck. As she convinced herself there was nothing the do, a short was heard through the air. 

  - What the heck are you doing William? - she recognised the voice. She had never been more grateful for that voice. Billy jumped over to his feet.

   - Sheriff ... me and Y/N were just having a bit of fun ... You know, you understand, right?

   - Y/N ... - he looked her way. - What were you doing?

   - It was against my will, Sheriff. - she climbed onto her feet, leaning against a tree at a healthy distance from him.

  - Get the fuck out of here. - the young boy in his mid 20′s rushed out like a child afraid of the dark, forgetting his car and everything he had left behind. Y/N watched him running, tripping onto his legs as Lee fired a warning shot in the air. If this was NY, there would be someone here already but this was Knockemstiff and gun shots were as usual as rain during winter.

He smirked, happy to have once again imposed the authority he so much treasured. Lee never liked Billy, he never liked when he’d drive Y/N home from school even when she was volunteering at the police station. That boy was no good news and always looked at her like she was a piece of meat. Lee still remembered the old Sheriff telling her that boy was no good and looking at her now, dressed in one of her white dresses stained in dirty and green grass stains, he guessed he was right. 

  - Billy, Y/N? Don’t you have other friends?

  - Billy’s the only one with a car. - Y/N mumbled as she grabbed his keys from the floor to take her stuff off his car before he could return. - Thank you but I had it under control.

  - ‘Course you did. - he put his hands on his waist. - Come on, I’ll drive you to wherever you want to go.

  - I don’t want any favours from you, Sheriff Bodecker. - she held her boxes against her chest. Well, if she started now maybe she could be at the post office with all the boxes at nighttime. - That’ll be all.

  - Y/N, come on. I’m a public server so let me help you.

  - I don’t want your help. - she almost barked at him, taking another box from Billy’s car. Maybe she could drive the car, yet again she knew the captain particularly liked Billy and could fine her if 

  - Fine, can you tell me what you’re doing at least?

  - I’m shipping these boxes to New York. I don’t have time to completely go through them so ...

  - Put them in the cruiser. I’ll take them to the post office and take you home. 

  - I don’t want any favours.

  - It’s not for you, it’s for your grandmother. Now get into the car, please. - he opened the door to her.

Y/N huffed. The last thing she needed was a favour from Lee Bodecker yet in all honesty she had no other choice. She packed her boxes into the truck of his cruiser and sat on the passenger seat, arms crossed as he sat in the driver’s seat. Her mind played tricks on her, reminding her of what they used to do in that driver’s seat of his back when she was younger and full of ideas for the future. She shouldn’t have done it and she knew it, Jane Bodecker wasn’t the best woman but she didn’t deserve having her husband sneaking around with a 20 year old despite her herself having had her fair share of affairs. Not that Lee knew and she wasn’t gonna be the one to tell him about the time she was working late in the station and saw his wife getting busy with a new patrol. She didn’t have that right, after all he was doing the same to her. She shouldn’t have done it, nevertheless. Her grandmother died ashamed of her and now she had to deal with it. 

   - Billy said Sandy died. Is it true? 

   - Yeah, last year.

   - Oh ... I’m sorry, I didn’t know. 

   - She had it coming. That weird husband of hers ended up driving her off the edge. That Arvin kid shot them yet I can’t say they hadn’t it coming ... She was still my baby sister. 

   - I’m sorry, Lee. I’m so sorry ...  - she looked down at her skirt. 

   - Almost got me too ... stupid kid. - he shrugged. - Good thing I was fat enough to stop the bullet, I guess.

   - Well, I’m sorry about Sandy. - she said as she saw her house become clearer through the window. He stopped in front of her home, unlocking the doors so she could walk out. 

Y/N walked out before she could do something stupid. Whatever she did, whatever he had, whenever they were together she always ended up doing something stupid. She sat in the empty house of her childhood, only now containing furniture. She could remember it so well from her years as a child running up and down the stairs, not knowing what awaited her outside the world. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to owe anything to Lee. She knew who he had to answer softly too, she knew those men Billy spoke about. They always ran for Sheriff ever since she was a kid. 

She looked at the clock on the wall, 3PM. She knew exactly where those men would be at that time and so she changed and took her way downtown. Everyone turned their head as she walked into the badly light, old bar in tones of musky green which greatly contrasted with her baby blue short dress. The town had gotten stuck in the 40′s and 50′s, women barely showing their legs or any skin and there she was, a woman born and raised in Knockemstiff dressed like a movie star. The table of three men clearly noticed, the under-sheriff, the division chief and the captain. She stood in front of the round table, taking her sunglasses and setting them on top of her head, a nice, covergirl smile on her pink painted lips. You can get the girl out of Knockemstiff but you can’t get Knockemstiff out of the girl.

    - Hello boys. You mind if I seat with you? - she put her hand on one of the chairs. 

    - Hey, you’re Elizabeth’s granddaughter aren’t you? - Frank, the under-sheriff asked, pulling the chair for her. - I thought you were in New York.

    - I was but I just came here because of my grandma’s inheritance, but I have something to discuss. 

Another night, another day of useless parading around for Lee. He’d pass by the post office and shipped Y/N’s boxes and that had been the highlight of his day. As per usual, he made his way to the bar only to found the environment was slightly different. He knew this town like the back of his hand, anything off always rang alarm bells. As the bartender placed his usual poison in front of him, he decided to get to the bottom of the situation. 

   - Why’s everything so quiet?

   - I don’t know, Sheriff. - the man replied while cleaning glasses. - Elizabeth’s girl was here and I don’t know what she did but Frank, Jonah and Fitzwilliam left as if she were the devil.

Fucking hell. He drowned the last of his drink before grabbing his hat and entering his cruise. Damned Y/N, she used to be such a nice girl before leaving to New York. God, the only complaint he ever got about her was when the mayor complained about her wanting to run a march. He drove to her home like a mad man. What was she doing messing around with those three? He’d seen them do worse things for much less. Lee climbed the grass patch up to her door, knocking on it as if his life depended on it. 

   - Y/N, open up. Right now. - he thumped the door again. - I’ll break in if you don’t answer it!

   - Jesus. - the door opened up to Y/N dressed in what he was almost entirely sure was the shortest dress he had ever seen a woman wear. She stood against the door, hand on the wood while the other on her waist as he entered her home. 

   - Took you long enough. - he stepped into the home which he had never dared to step in.

   - I was upstairs. - she closed the door, locking it behind her for good safety. No one can be trusted in this godforsaken town. - What do you want?

Lee walked further into the house ignoring her question as he shut all the windows of the ground floor, anything that could allow anyone to look inside the house. Last thing he needed was for anyone to see inside the home and start any rumours. Stupid bastards. Y/N followed him around asking the same damn question anytime he shut any window and pulled any drapes down. 

   - Stop touching my stuff. - she put herself in front of him. - What do you want, Lee?

   - What do I want? - he sat against the couch, sighing. - What the fuck did you do, Y/N? Why were you at the bar?

   - I didn’t do anything. - she batted her eyes innocently. 

   - Y/N, I have another election coming up soon. I’ll ask again, what did you do at the bar?

   - It’s none of your business. 

   - Y/N, I’ve seen those men kill for less so you tell me now what you did. 

   - Stop ordering me around. - she rolled her eyes at him. - I don’t like owing anyone so now we’re even.

   - We’re even? - he pitched the skin of his nose. - What the fuck, Y/N? 

   - You wanna know what I said? Would that make you feel better? Would that make you feel like you rule this damn town, Lee? - she looked down on him, almost teasing him. Had it been a few years ago she would’ve been under him already. - I helped you out.

   - Y/N ...

   - It’s not just you who was sleeping around with a younger girl. They were sleeping around with friends of mine. The only difference is I have evidence of it ... - she grabbed her purse from the hanger, taking a beige envelope from it and throwing it his way. Lee looked up to her and then to the envelope opening it to see various pictures of girls he knew in compromising positions with his opponents, letters, everything. - They don’t have anything on you because unlike my friends, I don’t keep souvenirs from my affairs. 

  - You blackmailed them? Are you stupid, Y/N? They are going to kill you.

  - Please. - she rolled her eyes at him. - My grandmother owned half this town, if I die everything goes to charity and this town falls apart. Besides, it’s not like I’m planning to stick around for longer. 

  - So what now? You had fun playing femme fatale? You’re bored, is that it?

  - I just won you an election without any competition, Lee. You could be nicer about it. 

  - I don’t need your help. 

  - I don’t need your help either. I was just repaying a favour. - she leaned against the wall. - You can go now. 

   - Did you need to wear that? - he pointed at the dress. - Couldn’t have struck blackmail dressed appropriately?

   - Do you not like my dress? - she looked down, hands grabbing the baby blue fabric as she expanded the flowey skirt. - You know, I bought it for you. I was planning on using it for birthday a few years ago but you know ... had to leave earlier.

   - You bought that dress for me? - he rose from the couch, walking up to her until he had her caged against the wall.

   - I bought it so you could take it off, actually. - Lee must’ve been hallucinating because he swore she was pouting.

She looked up at him with that look she used to give him after a long day at work when he needed something to unwind. Both of them had promised each other not to do anything else when she left, Y/N had told herself no more coming bak and Lee had decided to spend his life content what whatever shred of marriage he had. Yet, she was there in what looked more like lingerie than a dress and he was in uniform, both of them were never good at making good decisions, and this was Knockemstiff. Lee took the first move, leaning down to kiss her like his body dependent on it which in some way he did. She held onto his shoulder, flushing her body against his as his hands started trying to pull the dress away from her body. Baby blue fabric flowed to the ground as he picked her up, throwing her against the couch he had just been sat on. He stopped kissing her to look at her, to look at the body he still dreamed at night or whenever he shut his eyes. She could’ve been gone for 4 years but she sure never left his wildest fantasies. 

  - Lee, wait. - her hands stopped him from returning to kiss her. - Let me treat you, please.

  - Oh sugar, you don’t need to ask. - she got up, walking slowly past him, her matching baby blue undergarments much more racy than what she used to wear back in Knockemstiff. She pushed him against the couch, smirking as she went down on her knees. - What are you doing down there, sugar? It’s more than you can handle. 

  - Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’m a big girl. - her hands unbuckled the belt off his trousers, throwing it to the floor followed by his trousers. She peppered kisses over his thighs down to his knees and then to the edge of his underwear. Slowly, she peeled them away, making eye contact with him. The silent girl he had known before was definitely long gone and he didn’t know how to feel about it. Before he could make up his mind, she took him entirely inside inside her mouth. - Fuck, you look fucking flawless with my big cock in your mouth, sugar.

She smiled at his praise, moving her head up and down still at a painfully slow pace, his balls in her hands. Lee pushed his head back, groaning at her motions and thinking it could no get better until she started to move her head faster, his tip reaching the back of her throat, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Instead she moaned against him, the vibrations making him feel like he was on cloud 9. Fuck being sheriff, nothing made him quite higher than having the one who got away with his cock down her throat. He started twitching against her mouth, his hand grabbed a handful of her hair, pushing her against his pelvis and starting to control her moves. She kept moaning against him, bringing him over the edge until he just couldn’t hold himself anymore. His grip loosened on her head as his muscles gave up on him.

Y/N got up from her kneeling position, thumb pushing whatever cum had spilled over into her mouth. That image alone made him harden up again like some horny teenage boy. She smiled at him, hands on his shoulders as she sat on his lap. 

   - What do you want me to do, Sheriff? - she batted her eyes at him, leaning down to kiss his ear lobe lowering down to his neck. 

  - You wanna ride my cock, sugar? - he hooked his hand on her nape, pushing her so she was looking at him. - You wanna make up to me for leaving me all alone?

  - Yes, Sheriff. - she lined up and slowly sunk down on him, both of them moaning. 

   - Come on, sugar. Show me what you can do. - she started riding him as if the devil had possessed her. He pushed her lips against his, a sloppy messy kiss which definitely was more lust than anything else as she moved up and down against him.  - Yeah, you like that don’t you, sugar? Tell me you like it, sugar. 

  - It feels so good, Lee. - she leaned against him, her hips still moving as he pulled her bra down, pinching her nipple. - Fuck.

  - You’re never gonna leave me again. - he started thrusting up, moving her from under him so she was laid across the couch. - Promis ... fuck ... promise me, sugar. Promise, you’re not gonna leave.

  - Lee ... - she moaned against the couch’s pillow as he speed up his pace, hands holding her hips and moving them against and away from him. 

  - You’re not gonna leave. - he groaned, feeling the way her walls milked him with such need. - You’re not gonna leave me, sugar. You’re not, right? You’re gonna stay.

   - Lee ... - she cried out before her mouth opened up in a perfect O, her orgasm washing over her. He didn’t take too long to cum, groaning like a wild animal as strings of white painted her walls. He slipped out of her, holding her before turning so she was standing on top of him. - Lee, I can’t stay. You know that, right? 

   - Why not? Things were good when you were around. 

   - I left for a reason, Lee. - she got up from him, grabbing her dress and quickly slipping it on. - And that reason still stands. 

   - Y/N, please listen ...

   - When I was 20 and we started this, I truly believed you were going to divorce your wife. You were going to divorce her and you were gonna marry me and ... and my grandma would’ve been upset but she would’ve learned to deal with it and then she would’ve taken me to the altar. I waited a year to see if I would ever become something other than a mistress and then the elections came around and I understood you were not gonna divorce Jane. You were going to be Sheriff and you’re still going to be Sheriff and maybe sometime Mayor. I’m not gonna be your mistress anymore, Lee.

  - Y/N ...

  - Please, leave. - she wiped whatever tears were threatening to fall off. Lee furrowed his brow, putting on his trousers before trying to approach her but she stopped him, arm raised firmly keeping distance. - Please, leave.

  - Y/N, c’mon. Let’s talk.

  - LEAVE! - she rose her tone at him. Lee wasn’t going to argue with her, it wasn’t his place to argue with her at her own house and so he left. Y/N stayed in the middle of her leaving room, arms crossed until she broke down crying.

She could almost hear her grandmother’s words “there’s no use crying about it” when she told her Lee was running for Sheriff. Funny how even after being dead, the old nag still was as right as she was four years ago. She wiped her tears with her hand and climbed the stairs up to her bedroom, sitting on the bare bed. It was going to be alright, tomorrow she’d be able to sign the rights over to the letting agency and could return to New York. Things were fine there, or at least she wasn’t sleeping with a married man there.

The sun didn’t raise up that morning, rain instead replaced it and so Y/N remained laid in bed watching the rain drop rush down the fogged up windows until a loud thumping on her door forced her to get up. She wrapped herself in her robe and went down the stairs to open the door. 

  - Good morning, miss. - she opened the door to her letting agent. - How are you?

  - I’m alright, Don. I’m sorry, I thought the open house was later. I’ll just get my stuff and leave.

  - No, it’s all right miss. I am just here to tell you that we’ve sold the house was above the price you were asking for.

  - Pardon me?

  - At least two times the asking price. It was such a good price, he had to take it. Paid upfront.

  - What really? Who?

  - He should be coming to see the place in an hour. - he said. - We’ll bring you the check later on. 

  - All right. Thank you Don.

That was good news at least she got to leave Knockemstiff before anything else happened. She didn’t know what had overcome her to decide to have sex with Lee. Pull yourself together Y/N, you’ve had four years to learn how to deal with it. It was fine, it was going to be fine. She packed whatever was left of her stuff into her small patched up luggage and put it by the door. She just needed to wait for Don to bring her check back and she could go on back to New York, where her mistakes only included putting coloured clothes with whites and then having pink clothes for the rest of her life. A knock on the door made that decision come much faster. Okay, Y/N. Get the check and go.

  - Lee? - she opened the door to see the least person she wanted to see. - Go away, I’m expecting someone.

  - I know. - he walked in as if the house was his. - You’re expecting me.

  - This is not funny, Lee. Don should be bringing my check anytime and the owner will be here in an hour.

  - Yeah, I’m sorry I’m early.

  - Pardon? - she rose her eyebrows at his statement. - What do you mean?

  - It’s my house now. I was thinking of upgrading, ya know? This house is the best one in Brewer Heights after all.

  - Are you fucking kidding me, Lee?! - she stood in front of him before he could walk further into her home. - You’re bringing your wife into my childhood home? YOU’RE BRINGING YOUR WIFE TO YOUR MISTRESS’S HOME?!

  - How many bedrooms is this house? They said they thought it was over five in the contract. 

  - You have a perfectly good house. Why do you want mine?

  - Mine is too small. Only one bedroom, I’d have no place to build a nursery.

  - A nursery? You and your wife are having a baby? In my childhood home ... how swell. 

  - You know I’m thinking about running for mayor. I mean, it’d look good if I had a family.

  - Good luck convincing Jane. - she gave him a cynical smile. 

  - I don’t have to convince Jane. I’d have to convince you. 

  - Me? Fuck off, Lee. I’m not having a baby for you and your wife. Fuck off. 

  - We’re a good team, Y/N. Besides, Jane is no longer in the picture.

  - Lee ... - she sighed. - Please.

  - You see, my wife isn’t as good as me at keeping her infidelities casual. The other candidates have caught wind of it ... I need someone who’s almost as good at blackmail as me.

  - I’m better at blackmail than you. - she crossed her arms at him.

  - So what do you say, sugar? Want to be the sheriff’s wife?

  - Do you promise I’ll get to be the mayor’s wife someday? 

  - With you on my team, I think you’re gonna be the mayor’s wife sooner than you think.

taglist: @buckysteveloki-me​ 

[pandemique]

hI!! i love your art and was wondering if you could make a tutorial showing how you paint stuff? only if you can! it's just really pretty !!

hi nonnie! thats very flattering !! i’m sorry i dont think i’ll be very helpful bc i’m a mega noob as well :D but i’ll try my very best <3

my process is very tailored for speed instead of quality (oops soz LOL) so i do suggest this for if u have short doodle breaks ⬇️⬇️⬇️

thumbnailing (for comics) -> lines (sketch who?) -> bucket tool/color drop in the base color -> color in the lines -> one multiply layer for a “base” shadow (in the vid below its purple!) -> one (1) render/paint layer a.k.a lawless no man’s land

full rendering process & more general painting tips below the cut‼️

NOTE: i’ll be focusing more on traditional/fundamental tips for stylized art because i’m sure there’s a much more effective way in digital. I truly do only use one normal layer for render... i think this is bc before i made this blog, my only prior experience in drawing is middle school art class, so all i know is traditional painting on one layer.... pray i can answer this again in the future with something smarter lmao

🌺 MY PAINT PROCESS

1. Choose a color scheme!

It doesn’t have to be set in stone like below, but i at least keep in mind the color range i’d like to use depending on what i want to convey (ex. soft pastels for soft fluff, or warm colors for happy vibes). I try to be as limited as possible for base colors because I tend to go ham when painting, you’ll see later AHAHA

2. Base coloring + Base shadow

Base -> bucket tool in the color scheme (I know other artists are against this but when i discovered the bucket tool in digital art I immediately divorced manual coloring i’m sorry i loved you tho bae) (this is why my style and lines are simplistic as they are, so the color drop works!)

Base shadow -> in theory, warm-colored light creates cool-colored shadows and vice versa. because i’m a fluff addict i mainly use warmer light, so i like using blue/purple as the shadow. generally u can’t go wrong with complementary colors!! (yellow light & purple shadows / orange light & blue shadows).

I make a new multiply layer (decreased opacity just bc i like things soft okay) and clip it on the base layer, then block in the areas i think would get blocked from the light.

3. Color in the lines!

for simplistic styles i swear this works wonders. i just clip a layer to the lineart and manually color the lines with a darker but more saturated version of the base color. it just tends to look more dead i guess with low saturation lol (ex. u can see above i use both peach and red or pink for lines of skin, i guess it implies the blood under the skin too. or something :D)

4. RENDERRRR

when i’m not in a rush i just paint things completely (and mindlessly), but here are the things i almost always do:

line the shadows with a saturated color! i’m not sure this is common but i love it lol, in almost all my doodles just check the shadows—on the edges, there’s bound to be a wild color :D (usually its the light color, shadow color or a color scheme color but sometimes i’m just like boY do i loVe piNk)

my art major friend told me about saturated colors on desaturated bases and my life was changed forever lol. u can see below even when my base is very grayyy, my rendering is very gay :D ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

make the shadows darker where i think they should be darker. usually i can just colorpick from that darker, saturated lineart color!

if it’s a more realistic piece i usually make the highlights lighter, but in simple doodles i find it unnecessary, and i dont like how light/white it looks :( i tend to just make the areas exposed to light more saturated

color in the rebound light~ in reality there’s usually not only one primary light source, at least there’d be secondary light from where light bounces off objects. in art we just emphasize that! so in large shadow areas, or in areas close to other objects/colors, i like to ‘splash’ other colors on

yeah this part is less intuitive for beginners and u have to learn a grasp on the concepts over time, like for lighting and structure. values can be more important than color, so i do suggest learning shading first before coloring, but only if u like (u can always be like me and just pull up references when u dont get how the light would fall on some materials :>). i have more general paint tips below! don’t give up okay, i believe in u nons, we’re all still in the eternal learning process together ( •̀ᄇ• ́)ﻭ✧

5. OOOOHHH SHINY ✨🤩

this step is just me being mesmerized by how easy it is to play with lighting in digital. i play around with the layer settings (multiply for shadow, overlay for light, and often try out the other settings too!). my favorite effect is the highlight glow thing, where u just make a copy layer of the highlights below the original layer, and blur it slightly so it looks like glow ✨✨🤩 overpriced acrylic could never

6. COLOR ADJUST / EDIT

Truthfully i usually skip this step, but my more pro friends really vouch for it!! i think definitely an incredible thing with digital is that u can edit proportions and even color after you’re done. i think they usually use like the curves adjustment layer in photoshop until they get colors they like, but for me, well, in a reaally diligent day i like to slap on the “auto” fliter in the iphone’s photos edit button lmaoooo

🌺 GENERAL PAINTING TIPS

learn basic theory: i think theres free courses everywhere online, but heres a few things u might like to have a basic understanding of: color, perspective, shape language, lighting, composition. don’t sweat it too much tho, it should be fun to explore the concepts!

and for drawing hoomans: proportion, gesture, expression, and veery basic anatomy. i find that overall forms are so much more important to learn than like detailed anatomy bc u can always look it up lol

but remember, u mostly want to learn the rules so u know better ways to break them :)

uuuuse manyyyyy referencessss every time u draww!

^this includes other people’s art — when u see good stuff, figure out why u like it and apply it to ur own art

get feedback!!!!

draw tons!!! brainrot helps !! ;D

aaand thank u for coming to my ted talk! sorry for the ramble nonnie, i hope u got something out of this lol

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man. ( Taehyung x Oc)

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst. 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2  ~ Its okay to want something to end and also be sad that its ending. 

With infidelity, its never black and white. 

There’s different kinds of infidelity and you can’t ever say which is worse. That depends entirely on the people involved and the values they hold dear. What may be a small indiscretion to someone, may well be an unforgivable act of betrayal to someone else.

 And that’s fine. People aren’t one dimensional. We can’t all have the same perspective. 

So infidelity is also never one dimensional. 

Sometimes its a one night stand. Something done and forgotten. Discarded from the mind like the used condom in the motel room floor. 

Sometimes its a dear friend who betrays you, your best friend who apparently always had a thing for your husband and felt perfectly fine making a move on him. That one stings . Because you lose two people. Two very important people at the same time. 

Sometimes its a coworker, someone who stays by their side majority of the day. Who offers a sympathetic ear when your husband wants to relax.

Sometimes men just fall out of love and are too much of a coward to say it out loud, opting to cheat on you instead. 

Sometimes, they are jealous, of your career, of your kid, or your friends. Too lazy to win your affection they go find satisfaction in some one else’s bed. 

Sometimes it never even gets physical. Sometimes its just someone catfishing your husband or sending him nudes.

And sometimes, its an emotional connection. They actually fall deeply in love with someone else and I think, for most women, that would be the one that would sting the most. 

With Taehyung, it had been a night of drinking. He had had one drink too many, had tumbled into bed with some trainee a decade younger and had broken our marriage vows. 

Not really a very thought out or planned mistake. He hadn’t cheated with the intent to cheat. He had just been too drunk to know better. 

So, why did I leave him?

Because it hadn’t been about the cheating. 

It had been the drinking. 

When we first met, Taehyung couldn’t hold his liquor. Not that it mattered because he didn’t like it all that much. Didn’t mind sipping juice when other’s nursed beers. 

But as he grew older, as he grew more successful, he had started accepting drinks from producers and directors and fellow actors... Because, it was rude not to and Kim Taehyung was nothing if not the personification of politeness. 

 His tolerance hadn’t increased but his drinking had and that was a bad combo. 

:”You need to stop doing this Tae. You can’t just come home black out drunk, every time you have an after party.... You’re going to hurt yourself or god forbid someone else... some day and I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to wreck your entire life over a stupid drink....” 

It was a speech I had made way too many times. The words recycled and reframed, and rearranged to try and give them more  weight , to help him realize how  serious  the issue was. To help him understand that what he was risking, it wasn’t just his reputation. It was his entire career, his  life  if he somehow got behind a wheel someday. 

And Taehyung, who had won a bunch of Daesangs for his acting always convinced me that he understood what I was trying to say. That he understood the magnitude of my words and would heed them the next time. 

So really, what people didn’t understand was that....

That evening, when he stood in front of me and said that he slept with another woman because he got drunk out of his mind, it wasn’t the sleeping with the girl that had bothered me. ( at least not that much. it hurt of course but it wasn’t that strong. it stemmed more from a place of “why didn’t you just ask someone to drive you home, you idiot.”.. rather than, “ how dare you sleep with another woman?”  ) 

It was the got drunk out of my mind thing. 

That was what I ended my marriage over. 

That was it. 

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

The details were hashed out easily and I didn’t particularly protest or change anything. Taehyung suggested an equal division of assets and I quickly disagreed. I wasn’t exactly poor. I worked as the Head of Marketing in a successful conglomerate. I had no use for excessive amounts of money. After some debate we agreed on setting up a trust fund for Hoshi with the money. He could use it after he turned twenty five. 

And then came the next part. 

Compensation for physical / Mental Damage. 

I felt like i was spiraling. 

“None On my side. None.” Taehyung said quickly and I swallowed. 

Ms Lee gave me an encouraging smile. 

“You can be honest Mrs Kim. We’re trying to go for a clean break between the two of you without any resentment carrying over. So its best to be honest. If you feel you need recompense for any emotional distress or abuse Mr. Kim may have put you through, you’re free to tell me. I’ll make sure it goes into record.” 

And this was why I hated the idea of getting divorce. 

That entire dialogue had sounded so...so... terrible. So accusatory and ugly. It wasn’t at all the way I felt about my husband. 

It was just hurt. Plain and simple hurt because he didn’t take me seriously. Because he didn’t think my words were worth listening to. It was hurt laced with fear because he was putting himself in danger with his reckless actions and I wanted him to stop. That’s all it was. 

It was hurt. 

Taehyung had hurt me but it wasn’t emotional distress. It sure as hell hadn’t been abuse.

“None for me either.” I said firmly, honest . 

I glanced at my husband, trying to tell him that I wasn’t just saying it. That it was true. I really didn’t want him to pay me money for what had happened. 

But, Taehyung wouldn’t meet my eyes.  

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

Taehyung signed over full custody of Hoshi with a smile. 

“I trust you. “ He said quietly, penning his initials carefully on the document. 

I nodded, feeling a little like drowning.

 We had a very comfortable way of doing things as far as our son was concerned. Taehyung got Hoshi anytime he had time off and also on weekends. 

With a very shifting schedule it was hard for Taehyung to pin down exact dates so we had long decided we would make things easier for each other. He would call me a day or so in advance and i would drop him off at Taehyung’s penthouse or the company. Special days like birthdays were always celebrated in a neutral place with both parties attending. 

Hoshi loved it because it was a pleasant surprise for him, when his dad swooped in out of nowhere and took him off to amusement parks or arcades or swimming. He loved Taehyung . 

So the visitation rights were easy to sketch out. 

It was nothing new but to have it all put down on paper and initialed and notarized....it just felt invasive. Some judge somewhere would read all about how my marriage had crumbled to ashes and would pass judgment on me and that just felt odd. 

 Like airing your dirty laundry. Like letting strangers into your bedroom. 

And the worst part was this :   I felt myself getting upset , anytime Ms. Lee gave the slightest negative connotation to Taehyung’s actions or responsibilities. Anytime she tried to imply that he couldn’t be neglectful as  a father, I wanted to jump right up and defend him. To tell her that he was a better father than the ones who lived 24/7 with their kids and didn’t know a damn thing about them. 

That even as my husband,  he had been so good to me. Had treated me like his best friend, his confidante, his lover. Had never shied away from showing me how much he loved me. Had been the best husband in the whole entire world. 

And I hated myself for it. 

What was wrong with me? 

Why was  I still so fiercely protective of him, I wondered. I hated the idea of him being criticized by anyone for any of it.

 And it made feel like such a hypocrite because if he was so amazing, why on earth were we here??

Why on earth were we getting a divorce if Kim Taehyung was husband and father of the fucking Year?!! 

Was I making a mistake? Had I made a mistake? 

It confused me. These feelings that just refused to go away. I would never act on them because therein lay the path to misery but why were they still there? 

 This desperate clawing urge to make sure he came out of this whole debacle as a good guy. To make sure no one would brand him as a cheater . Because they would. When the divorce went public, they would dig things up and they would know. 

 I didn’t know how I’d gotten to this point where , I could somehow forget everything that was wrong, simply because I wanted to focus on what felt wrong....

Technically I should be happy. 

Taehyung did something unpardonable ( for me, at the time. Now I wasn’t so sure. Now I felt like I could forgive him for it but he hadn’t asked for forgiveness. What he’d asked for was a divorce.  ) and I left him. We were separated . And now finally we were getting a divorce. 

Divorce meant we could finally get out of this no man’s land of uncertainty where we had hung for two whole years and move on, from each other and finally give a label to where we stood. Exes. We were exes. We were done. It was over. 

Hadn’t I just yelled about him about how I liked labels? 

And yet, 

This entire divorce  felt so wrong. So unnecessary.

And in a moment of clarity, as I watched Ms Lee read he whole thing over again for our benefit, I realized why it felt wrong. 

It felt wrong because Taehyung was the one who wanted it. 

Why did Taehyung want it? What had made him want to end it, officially?

Was he seeing someone else? Was he considering seeing someone else? Did he want to start enjoying the single lifestyle again? 

Did he finally take a good long look at our marriage and found nothing worth salvaging anymore? 

My head ached. 

 I couldn’t wait for the whole thing to be over. And yet my heart broke at the thought of it. 

Ms Lee finally gathered up all the documents and gave us a wide smile.

“I wish every client I had was this reasonable. You two are a delight .” she shook her head. “ Should we get a drink to celebrate a day well spent?” 

I opened my mouth to accept when Taehyung said, “  Sure, but it would have to be a juice for me. I don’t drink.” 

I felt my heart take a swoop, nosediving to my knees. 

I stared at him, stunned speechless. 

“Haven’t had a drink in two years Mia. I’m done with that shit.” He said softly.

I swallowed. 

“I didn’t know that.” I felt miserable all of a sudden, the weight of what we had just done pressing down on my heart like a 200 pound stone, 

His gaze held mine.

“There’s a lot you don’t know.” 

We stood staring at each other in silence and Ms. Lee cleared her throat. 

“Uh... I just got a text from my next client. Maybe raincheck on the drinks? “

I nodded , watching her leave. Thank you i wanted to say, but for what?

 For ending my marriage of eight fucking years? 

And how ridiculous that very thought was. ..... She hadn’t ended our marriage,   I had. 

“I have the next two days off.” He said casually. 

“You can pick Hoshi up from my mom’s place. I need to head back to the office.” I muttered, choking a little on tears that had sprung out of nowhere. . 

“Hey.” his fingers closed over my wrists tugging me gently and I let myself get pulled into his arms. I hugged him, feeling my tears soak through the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.” I choked out. 

He stroked the back of my head gently.

“Me too. “ He pressed a kiss to my hair and it only made me feel worse.  

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

Author’s Note : Tae is 35, OC is 32 

[desi-lgbt-fest]

Day 5: Platonic

A story I wrote for today's prompt. It's a story about two middle aged men realising the happiness they want can come in many different forms.

1. 8 k words.

Cw: Mild homophobia. Incorrect language. It's indicative of character's understanding, not mine.

...

When Vikram Kumar first transferred to their branch, Nath wasn't impressed. Theirs was a small transport company, still somehow holding on against the giants of the industry. They were doing well for themselves; they had branches in few neighbouring states where the business was concentrated. And yeah, the company policy does state that employees should get transferred around every 4 years or so. But that never really happened. Nath had been working at Gada transport ltd for more than 25 years now and the only way anybody new ever came in the office was if someone died or retired.

That was what had happened. Another clerk, Nisha Bhagwan, had a heart attack at the computer and in came Vikram Kumar, a transfer from Nagpur. The office people took to him like animals take to the new clown at the circus. Nobody was really sad about Mrs Bhagwan's passing. She was old and in an office full of other old people, they were just waiting for the hat to drop on someone. Better Mrs Bhagwan than us.

They inquired after him, after his family, his mother's family, his neighbour's family, his neighbour's dog's family. When they found out that he was divorced and currently living in a sketchy hotel, they immediately turned to Nath.

Nath, or Adinath, as his name was, owned two flats in his society. Two flats side by side, one in which he lived. He very famously refused to rent it out to families or students or single women. Which meant, he never really rented it out. It actually quite suited to his own solitary silent life. But he regretted boasting about it in the office because here came his perfect rent.

"I- uh. The apartment is very dirty and I'd have to clean it," he started making excuses.

Vikram Kumar shrugged. "I don't mind. Better than listening to the sex noises coming from the side wall." Raucous laughter emerged, unhampered by the fact that their only woman employee wasn't there anymore.

Nath couldn't say no.

Vikram Kumar did turn out to be an ideal renter. He was silent. No guests. Rent, which Nath had kept a little high to dissuade, always on time. Sometimes old hindi songs drifted from his flat but Nath didn't mind. As his novelty wore off and office people stopped fawning over him, Nath did find himself to be quite okay with Vikram Kumar's existence.

A distinct mark in his favour was that he didn't laugh when at their regular chai break (5 minute break that always turned into a 45 minute one) the others made him familiar with Nath's title as the resident Bramhachari.

"Never married, never looks at a woman," Bhosle, their manager remarked.

"Hey you remember that time when that bombshell came in complaining about some lost package? Nath did not even look away from her face."

"Pakka gentleman, I tell you. He's not the customer complaint manager for nothing."

Everybody guffawed. Nath gave his regular pained smile. Vikram Kumar smiled back. For a moment, Nath thought it was a smile of understanding.

Eventually, Nath started offering Vikram Kumar a ride home on his ancient scooter. He obliged. When the ride turned regular, Vikram Kumar started contributing for petrol. Another mark in his favour.

13 months later, Vivek Chand, accountant, retired. In came a new hire, Ashalata Waad.

Suddenly many colleagues started turning up in pressed shirts and oiled hair. Nath merely shook his head and laughed at their preening. It was their colleagues' turn to laugh when Ms. Ashalata, recently widowed, took to Nath. Furtive smiles. Sympathy over dealing with difficult clients. Nath of course did not notice. But the other colleagues did. And out of sympathy for Ms Ashalata's feelings, they gently took her to a side after a week or so and directed her towards someone more likely to respond; the new divorcee, Vikram Kumar.

That, Nath certainly noticed.

That evening, Nath left without offering a ride to him.

Next morning, everyone noticed the distinct coldness between Ms Ashalata and Vikram Kumar. It was a long day too. Some trouble with licensing of a large shipment, everybody had to stay behind. It was well over 8 when people started leaving. Vikram came over to Nath's desk and tapped on it.

"I don't think this late I will find a riksha like yesterday. Will you please give a ride home?"

Nath sighed. He wasn't petty after all. Well, not much.

The streets were near empty. Theirs was a small town. One that eats at 8 and sleeps at 10. Nath's scooter cut through the silence and the sickly orange lights of the streetlamps like an interloper. They were crossing the Hutatma Chauk when Vikram asked him to stop.

"What for?"

"It was a long and stressful day. I wanted us a relax a bit at the park bench before we go home."

"I'm not going-"

"Please yaar."

Nath sighed.

Stopping the scooter at side, they both walked to the circle where statue of some forgotten freedom fighter stood, benches around it. Surprisingly, there were some people ambling around. Old couples taking a rest from nightly walk. A group of youngsters.

After having the sound of scooter in the ears for past five minutes, the sudden silence was deafening.

"I don't think Ms Waad would be talking to me again," Vikram Kumar started without preamble, a laughter in his voice.

Nath sighed and ran a hand through in thin hair. "You didn't do any-"

"No no, oh god no! I just said I'm not interested. I think that was enough for her to be offended."

"She's not your type?" he probed gently, curious.

Vikram was silent for a moment and then burst out with sudden emotion, "Why does it matter? Why one single woman and one single man can not stay without having an affair? Ye saala bollywood-" Nath hushed him, noticing the people around.

"Sorry." Vikram said, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

"I get it. Years ago, when I told my father I was gay-"

"You're what??"

Nath felt like he made a tremendous mistake in judgement. But he was a grown man dammit, he will hold his ground!

"I said I am gay." Nath held his gaze. Vikram Kumar stared back, unknown range of emotions passing. Eventually he broke the gaze, ran a hand through his own balding hair and sat back.

He shook his head. "I am not gay, if that's why you-"

"That wasn't-"

"I'm NOT. I like women. I- I mean men are good too. I. I don't-"

Nath couldn't help it. He broke into a loud laugh. Like Vikram had performed some excellent comedy sketch.

Vikram punched him lightly on his shoulder, a smile evident on his face.

"I just meant, men, women. All are same to me. Honestly, I didn't mind being married to Sheela. I provided for her, I cared for her wellbeing. Our.. bedroom relations were less ideal but I didn't shut her out. I did my duty."

"I'm guessing she wanted someone who didn't see her as a duty?"

Vikram shrugged. "She was nice about it. Told me plain and simple she found someone else. We didn't have kids. It was easy. Well. As easy as it could be. She told the court I was impotent for swift divorce. I agreed. It caused drama in families though, which is why I asked for a transfer."

"Mrs Bhagwan died at a really opportune moment then."

They both shared a laugh and things fell silent once again.

"So you are... one of those," Vikram tried to say casually.

The elderly couple had left. A newly wed looking one took their place. Nath suddenly felt he was thrown back in time.

"I don't have much family," he started. "Mother died when I was young. Theirs was a love marriage, quite unusual for the times. They had run away and so had lost their families. My father raised me well enough; started pestering me for marriage when I got the job at 22. I kept avoiding for few years. But eventually I had to tell him. I wasn't going to ruin some poor woman's life." Nath looked pointedly at Vikram. Vikram didn't take offence. Just laughed self-consciously. Mark in his favour etc etc.

"Father raged for days. Didn't raise his hand on me, didn't tell anyone else but we fought a lot. It wasn't that he denied my condition. He just wanted a family. On some level we understood each other. I realise it now. I knew he wanted me to marry because he didn't want his hard fought family to die with me. And I guess, he probably knew what it meant to love someone you weren't supposed to.

He died soon after."

"When you were thirty, I remember you telling me."

Nath nodded. "I was free. I had a place of my own. A job. No family to hide myself from. I felt guilty over feeling relieved. I felt angry at being guilty. Then came sadness over being angry. That sadness stayed for a decade."

Vikram asked, "So you never...?

Nath shook out of his trip to memory lane. "Hm?"

"Are you? A bramhachari? Did you ever find-"

"There were some men here and there. Obviously there wasn't going to be a relationship," Nath scoffed. "If you know where to look, you can find release. But after Father died, I don't know, I rarely ever went looking for anybody. I didn't have it in me."

Vikram laughed. "Look at us. Two old men, all on their own, no happy family for us."

"Speak for yourself, I'm barely a day over 40," said the man, almost 50.

Vikram laughed again, looking at him with such fondness in his eyes. Nath felt sharp fear for a moment. Then he decided to be an adult again.

"You look well for your age too."

"Nath..."

Nath shivered at hearing his name. It was an intimate name. People didn't say it much. But it fit in Vikram's mouth.

"I don't want to change anything," Vikram said. "I'm happy as things are. It's ideal. I can't offer anything more."

Nath got up, brushing dust from his pants. It had gotten late. They were alone at the circle. A vehicle passing by to remind them of the world that exists.

"I'll take whatever you can offer," he said, looking away from him.

"Friendship? For as long as I live?" Vikram held out his hand.

Nath looked at it. Big, warm. Hairy. Pale skin where the wedding ring used to sit. He extended his own and took it.

"As long as I live."

... Let me know if you like it enough to see some other prompts involving them... I have so many headcanons for them.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Beautiful and Damned 5- New Threats [Geralt of Rivia x Reader]

A.N: My darlings, your great feedback makes me so happy, thank you! Please don’t forget to tell me what you think of this chapter, kisses!

Reminder: This story will not follow the show’s plot, so even if you haven’t watched the series, you can still read it.

The previous chapters are on my masterlist!

Summary: Court can be a dangerous place for many.

Word Count: 3191

Warnings: Mentions of violence and death.

So, maybe the last few days had been quite tense. Maybe you still had some very specific dreams about Geralt, even though you were still furious at him.

Maybe you thought about what he had said to you in that hallway over and over and over again.

Just maybe.

Maybe, the whole reason why you had insisted to practice drawing with Ciri was to catch a sight of him- to glare at him.

Nothing more.

“No, I give up.” Ciri’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned your head.

“What? No!” you took a look at her sketch, “That’s not bad at all.”

“Not good either,” she pointed out and you raised your brows,

“I should tell Fin to show you some sketches I made when I was your age,” you said, “He still keeps them, possibly to make fun of me.”

Ciri let out a laugh as you leaned your head back to the tree trunk, then shielded your eyes from the sun.

“Fin is coming.” Ciri said and you turned your head, then waved at your brother who approached you, then sat down next to you.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” you said, “Can you please tell Ciri of my drawings when I was her age?”

“They were good.”

“Fin!”

“What? They were.”

“Told you,” Ciri said and you shook your head.

“Don’t believe him,” you told her, “Does mother still need Cassie?”

Fin nodded, “Yeah. Tried to save her but mother shooed me away- this is still better than when I try to draw,” he motioned at Ciri’s parchment and she arched a brow.

“You’re just saying that,” she said, and looked up when you heard her name being called. Your heart started slamming against your chest and Ciri made a face.

“I’m not Roach, Geralt, say what you are saying here,” she called out and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Fin’s eyes narrow as he sat up straighter beside you, keeping his gaze on Geralt. You pursed your lips and made yourself busy with your own parchment as Geralt and Jaskier approached you.

“Come on,” Geralt told her and she put her parchment beside her, but then frowned for a moment and looked between you as the silence fell upon all of you.

“Oh no,” she said, “What did you do?”

“Ciri.”

“No I’m serious, what happened?” she turned to you, “What did he do?”

You looked up from your parchment and raised your brows, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sir Geralt.”

“Your highness.”

Ciri groaned, “Fin?”

“If she doesn’t know, I don’t know either.”

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

She rolled her eyes, “Never mind, Jaskier can tell me.”

“I won’t.” Jaskier said as Fin’s gaze wandered off to him before snapping back to Geralt. Ciri stood up,

“I’ll find you later,” she said, and walked past Geralt, making him pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Jaskier,”

“I’ll be right behind you, give me a moment,” he told him, and Geralt left without so much as sparing you a glare.

You tried to ignore the sudden pang of pain shooting through you, but managed to turn your glances to Jaskier.

“Yes?” you asked him, and he cleared his throat.

“Your majesty, I was wondering if I- if….” He licked his lips, “If your maid is spoken for.”

Fin tilted his head like a confused puppy, his eyes narrowing once again as you raised your brows.

“Cassandra?”

“Yes.”

“You’d like to know if Cassandra is spoken for.” You smiled slightly, “Well, you have quite the competition then. Everyone in the court wants her favor. Lords included.”

“I think I got this, sister.” Fin stopped you and leaned back, “What is your name, bard?”

“Jaskier.”

“Never mind, I’ll just call you bard. What are your intentions?”

Jaskier looked between you, “My intentions?”

“Regarding my beautiful, beloved Cassie. What are your intentions?”

“I just….” Jaskier swallowed thickly, “Uh- I’d just like to know her better.”

Fin tut tutted, “See,” he said, “You’re a good looking man. Isn’t he a good looking man, sister?”

“I’d like to know what fault I have committed to deserve being a part of this conversation.” You muttered dryly, and Fin motioned at Jaskier’s face.

“You know, bright blue eyes and sweet voice and-“ he cleared his throat, “That is if you are into that sort of thing. But Cassie is our precious jewel, and a bard with not so serious intentions….” He clicked his tongue, and you rolled your eyes.

“Fin, stop scaring him off,” you reprimanded him, “Cassie likes flowers. You might as well make use of them while introducing yourself.”

“Or don’t introduce yourself.”

“Fin.”

“That’s also an option.”

“Don’t listen to him,” you said, “Flowers are a nice touch.”

Jaskier nodded, “Thank you,” he smiled and rushed to catch up with Geralt and Ciri, and you turned to Fin.

“Speaking of love,” you said, “Are we having that conversation yet?”

He had the audacity to look clueless, “What conversation?”

“You know what conversation.”

Fin pressed his lips together and turned his gaze to the court, crossing his arms, “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“Y/N.”

“Fin.” You insisted, “You’re not fine.”

“Yeah, maybe I’m not fine because no one else but me in this damn court seems to know how it feels not to be able to touch the object of one’s desire,” he snapped and for a couple of seconds you gawked at him as what he had just said dawned on him.

“Oh I’m especially dumb today,” he told you, “Have you noticed that? I woke up dumb this morning.”

You scoffed a laugh, “It’s alright,” you said, “Who is it then?”

He clicked his tongue, and closed his eyes, leaning his head back.

“I’m afraid my heart will stay a desert, sister,” he mumbled and even if you wanted to ask again, you knew Fin way too well to do so.

He would tell you, eventually. When you least expected him to.

It had been like that since you were children.

“It won’t.” you heard yourself say, and he opened his eyes.

“How do you know?”

You shrugged slightly, “It would be terribly unfair if both of us were unhappy,” you murmured, “One victim is enough for a family. Fate could at least spare you.”

He squeezed your upper arm over your long sleeved dress and you smiled at him, then leaned back to the tree again, closing your eyes for a moment of peace.

                                                    ***

Thankfully, your mother was so distracted by the preparations of the guests’ room that she barely had any free time, so that crossed out the possibility of her asking you about embroideries or Fin, or anything really. By the time Cassie was allowed to come back to you, it was almost night but you had already lost the track of time due to being so engrossed in your sketching.

It was almost strange, drawing him. Normally, you needed a model in order to draw them correctly, to have someone or something to sit still in front of you, but Geralt had somehow burned himself into your memory that you thought you could draw him with your eyes closed.

No matter how much you despised what he had done.

“Your majesty?” Cassie knocked on the door and cracked it open, “Hello. I just wanted to say I’m back.”

“Oh come in, come in!” you told her as you put the sketch under the others so that she wouldn’t see, “Fin tried to save you twice, and I sent a maid. Mother just doesn’t seem to want to let you go.”

She let out a laugh, “It’s quite alright, it’s my job.”

“Your job isn’t to help my mother.”

“Your mother is the queen, your majesty. It’s everyone’s job in this castle.”

You shook your head slightly, “I suppose,” you mumbled, and Cassie walked to the big bowl on the table, spilled some liquid from the small vials and added water before the nice smell spread over the room.

“Your brother was reprimanded though.”

“By mother?”

“Yes,” she looked up at you and started tidying up the table, “I suppose the queen does not really like when the future king says “Leave my beloved be, I need her to discuss our wedding.”, who knew?”

You rubbed your eyes, “I’m going to smack Fin.”

“He has a good heart.” Cassie let out a laugh, “Can you imagine if he really was in love with me?”

“Oh trust me, you would want to divorce him if that ever happened. I pity his future wife.”

Cassie shook her head slightly, still smiling and your head shot up,

“I forgot to tell you,” you said, “You have another admirer.”

She raised her brows, “What?”

“Yes, Gera- um, the witcher’s bard. Jaskier.”

“Dark haired, blue eyes?”

“Yeah, that one,” you scoffed, “Poor thing, Fin intimidated him I think. He does look quite sweet though, wouldn’t you agree?”

Cassie curled her lips, shrugging and you walked to your mirror, grabbed your comb but both of you turned your heads when a blood-curdling scream reached into the chamber, along with the hurried footsteps and shouting.

You felt your blood freeze in your veins and Cassie held her breath, taking a step back while you put your comb down, trying to control your breathing. Both of you had been in the castle for way too long not to know what it meant.

If you heard a scream the middle of the night, it meant someone was either in danger, or was already killed.

You rushed to the door to swing it open as a guard came to block your way.

“Your highness-“

“Who is it?” you managed to ask through panic, “Fin-?”

“No, prince Fintan is alright, please go back to-“

“Who is it?!” you snapped at him and he licked his lips, exchanging glances with Cassie.

“Prince Tiernan.” The guard said, making your eyes widen,

“Did he-?”

“Someone has him, in the second hall. They’re trying to- princess!” he shouted after you as you bolted for the second hall, lifting your skirts a little to run faster. Your heart was beating in your ears, you could swear the fear had taken a hold of your body but you managed to reach the second hall, which was quite crowded with a lot of people staring at-

One corner.

The man was holding your baby brother who seemed to cry his eyes out, trying to reach for your mother who looked almost frozen, staring at them. The blade against Tiernan’s neck made the hair behind your neck rise but your eyes caught a sight of Fin, who had cornered the man and was standing still, maybe not even breathing as he held his sword against him, ready to attack the moment he made a move.

“Whoever paid you for this, we can pay more.” Your father’s voice was almost too calm, as Cassie reached you and covered her mouth. Fin’s sharp, fiery glare was unwavering as the man chuckled.

“You think this is about payment?” he asked, “You couldn’t afford my loyalty.”

“There’s no way out of this,” Fin growled, “Give me the baby.”

“Take one step and I will make his death slower.”

“Stay here,” you murmured through frozen lips and Cassie frowned,

“Your majesty-“

“Stay here.” You repeated as you made your way out of the hall, and looked around.

When you were children, one of your favorite games to play with Fin was hide and seek. By the time you were eight, you had already memorized every single hidden passage in the court, and second hall, just like all the other halls, had one.

You dragged your fingertips over the wall, then as soon as you found the spot, you pushed it and walked into the secret passage. The smell of dust almost made you gag, but you covered your mouth with your arm and kept walking until you reached the entrance, and slowly, very slowly pushed it so as not to make a noise. Fin’s eyes found you over the man’s shoulder before they snapped back to him.

“Who’s making you do this?” he asked to get his attention, and the man chuckled.

“I volunteered,” he spat, “This is an honor.”

“It’s an honor to harm a child?” Fin asked him as you swallowed thickly, barely hearing them over the sound of your own heartbeat. You flexed your fingers, taking a step closer and raised your hand, holding your breath.

“When this is over, Prince Fintan-“ the man said, “All of you will be dead.”

You could feel the fury roaring through you at the threat, and that somehow made the fear go away for a moment, making everything clearer in your head.

Then you touched his neck.

It was almost too easy, really. It barely took a second until his breath was caught in his throat, his body going limp and Fin threw his sword aside to catch Tiernan before he fell to the ground with the man. Tiernan let out a bawl, holding onto Fin as tight as he could before Fin pressed a kiss on his head, then handed him to your mother and rushed to you.

“Are you alright?”

You kept your gaze on the man lying on the ground, his eyes open but almost blank before you managed to nod.

“Yes.” You murmured, “I am. Are you?”

Fin raised his hand to squeeze your arm, but stopped when he saw that he had no gloves.

“It’s alright,” your voice was almost numb like the rest of you before you raised your glances to Fin, who nodded at you and took a deep breath.

And right in front of you, he turned into a king.

“Tell the guards to lock the gates,” he ordered, and grabbed his sword from the guard who brought it, “Everyone will return to their chambers.”

“Fin-“

“I got this, father,” he said, “Mother, you stay with Tiernan, there will be at least five guards- you, by the hall, grab four men and escort them.”

“Yes my prince.”

“Cassie, you and my sister go back to her chambers, send someone to check on Ciri as well.”

“Of course your highness.”

“Commander Bradan, I want every room searched, any suspicious letter will be brought to me.”

“Yes my prince.”

“Commander Marcel, you and your men, follow me.” Fin turned around and walked out of the hall, cutting through the crowd while you tried your hardest not to look at the men, the bile burning your throat.

Just like that.

Easy as that.

Neither your mother nor your father made any attempt of talking with you. You all just stood there for a moment as the whispers circled you, reminding you that there were people watching.

No emotions, no weakness.

Even if you felt like you could faint, you took a deep breath, threw your shoulders back and followed your mother and father out of the hall, all of you going in different directions without saying anything to each other as soon as you were out.

Deep breaths.

In and out.

Keep walking.

                                                             ***

You had sent Cassie to her room, insisting that you needed some time after the events of the night, and that you would eventually go to sleep.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to.

You had almost forgotten how easy it was for you to kill somebody. While it was true that you had made sure you wouldn’t touch anyone, always kept your distance and kept your gloves on whenever you were outside, the feeling itself had grown cold, like a distant memory, until tonight.

The slight creak coming from the window made you turn your head and you swung your legs over the bed to stand up, frowning.

Another attempt?

You could feel the nervousness filling your system once more and you looked around the room, then grabbed the huge golden candelabra, and walked to the window to stand right beside it, holding the candelabra over your head. You held your breath, and as soon as the figure pushed the window open and jumped into the room you slammed it over their stomach, the impact making you trip as he grunted and grabbed the candelabra to snatch it from your hands-

“Geralt?!” you exclaimed, instantly letting go of the candelabra and covering your mouth, “Oh Gods, are you alright?!”

He nodded, rubbing at the spot and shot you a strange look.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?!” you asked back, “Why are you climbing through my window?”

“They locked the whole castle down while I was in the woods. You can kill people by touch and candelabra is your weapon of choice?” he asked you, making your heart skip a beat as what had happened before flashed through your mind, while Geralt tilted his head.

“Were you crying?”

You sniffled and rubbed at your eyes before walking away from him to sit down on your bed.

“I could vouch for you, you should’ve just sent a guard.”

“Why were you crying?”

“Ciri is fine.”

“Why were you crying?”

“So you have no reason to worry, we made sure of that-“

“Princess,” he cut you off, obviously not in the mood for these games, “Why were you crying?”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat and rubbed your temples,

“Because,” you murmured, “They should’ve never let me out of that damn tower. I should’ve stayed there, no matter how much Fin and I begged father.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I killed someone,” you blurted out, “Tonight. He was going to hurt Tiernan, so I touched him and I killed him.”

“Princess-“

“I don’t feel bad about it.” You interrupted him, “At all. That’s why they should’ve left me there to rot, a good person feels bad about taking somebody’s life.”

“You stopped a grown man trying to hurt a baby.”

“By killing him.”

“Actions have consequences, sounds like he deserved it.”

“What about the next one?”

He frowned, “The next one?”

“Who’s to say it will be just him?” you asked him, “Who’s to say it won’t be someone that I don’t want to hurt, someone that I care about? What if it’s Fin, or Cassie, or-“ you wiped your eyes, sniffling, “Or you.”

A silence fell upon the room and you let out a bitter chuckle, looking up at him.

“Can you promise that I won’t hurt you?”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, as if trying to see whether you were lying to him or not, but in the end he took a step towards you, then crouched down so that you could be eye to eye while you sat still on the bed.

“I can promise that I will do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t cry again,” his voice was low, and you blinked back tears, nodding slowly before wiping your eyes.

“Geralt if anyone sees you here you will be in trouble.”

He smiled slightly, “Right. Staring at each other, how dare we?”

A giggle you couldn’t stop left your lips and you bit down on your lip, stealing a look at his golden eyes that seemed to hold a soft light contrary to the usual.

“I’m glad you’re back safe,” you said as you sniffled and he raised his brows.

“Are you?”

“Of course I am.”

His eyes searched yours, then he cleared his throat,

“Princess, if I upset you,” he said “With my actions lately, it wasn’t….my intention.”

You licked your lips, suddenly feeling nervous as your stomach made a flip.

“I was merely under the impression that-“ you started, but then looked up when both of you heard the loud ring of the city bell.

Once, twice, three times-

Four. It rang four times.

“What does that mean?” Geralt asked and you swallowed thickly, trying your hardest not to focus on the last time you had heard it.

“Confinement.” You managed to say, “Of the city. No one goes in, no one goes out.”

He cussed under his breath and stood up, “I should-“

“Find Ciri. She’s in her chambers with two guards by her door, I made sure of that.” You stood up as well, “Go.”

He nodded before rushing out of your chambers and you walked to the window, then leaned your elbows on the sill and closed your eyes, the bell still ringing in your ears.

                                           ***

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[speechlessxx]

Fall For You (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: In which Steve is the emergency contact of his ex-wife.

Warnings: amnesia, mentioned accident, incorrect medical banter, sad Steve, bad writing, angst, language, divorce... for some reason I’m always writing about divorce.

Word Count: 1.9k

Inspired from: Fall For You by Secondhand Serenade

Feedback is appreciated! 

The cabin used to be a home. It was filled with laughter, excited chatter, loving moans. Steve recalled when he carried you bridal-style over the threshold. You were all giggles and he was all smiles. Both of you excited for the next chapter in your lives. What happened? 

Steve questioned that every day as he walked past your favorite wedding photo. It was hung over the fireplace. Albeit, it hung crookedly after you slammed the front door - the same door he carried you through - and never returned. 

As easily as he could’ve straightened out the photo - or even taken it down - he couldn’t find the strength to do so. He found irony in that. He was a super soldier and he couldn’t bring himself to take down a picture frame. 

You and Steve were different in many, many ways. However, you both managed to balance one another out. Where he was strict and followed orders to the tee, you were a go-with-the-flow type of agent, a master of adaptability. Where you always felt like you were floating away into nothingness, he was grounded. He kept you steady while you kept him on his toes.

You were a perfect couple. Were.

 Steve wanted to retire. After saving the universe, defeating Thanos, losing Tony and Nat, he longed for normalcy. He wanted a home, a wife, kids. And for a time, you wanted the same thing.

However, you couldn’t find yourself settling into the life Steve wanted. You were itching for something else -- that excitement that came with missions. And after a year, you realized you didn’t want retirement, at least not yet. You felt as if you could still contribute to the world and felt selfish hiding away in your perfect cabin home.

Steve disagreed. He always disagreed. He told you that you both deserved to settle down. It was okay that you both walked away. It wasn’t selfish. In fact, he called you selfish for wanting your old life back. He tried to convince you for days and you tried to let yourself be convinced. But it just wasn’t enough.

On a stormy night, the once laughter filled home was full of screams. The once perfect couple yelled at one another at the top of their lungs. You had enough. You raced to your shared bedroom, packed a back, and left with the slamming of the door. And he let you go. 

Give her an hour, or two. Steve told himself. But two hours turned into a day. And a day turned into a week. He grew anxious. He prepared to follow you out. He had connections. He knew he could find you. But just as he opened the door, Sam stood there with his head hung low and a somber look on his face. He handed Steve a file and said, “I’m sorry, man.” 

You divorced your husband. 

-=+=-

It’s been over a year. Through Sam and Bucky, Steve kept tabs on you. Eventually, that stopped. They advised Steve to move on which angered him. Had you moved on, too? (The answer was no. You still loved him very much). 

With your absence, Steve preoccupied himself with home renovations. He adopted a dog, a golden retriever whose previous owners named “Captain”. 

As he juggled cutting wood and playing fetch with Captain, his phone rang. It was an unknown number. He frowned as he put the phone to his ear, “hello?”

“Hi, is this Mr. Steven Rogers?” A woman’s voice rang through the phone. 

“This is he. What’s this about?” 

“Hi, Mr. Rogers. I - There’s no easy way for me to say this, but you’re the emergency contact of a Mrs. (Y/N) Rogers.” Color drained from his face. “Well... she’s been involved in an accident.” 

It had been weeks since he received that phone call. He stayed by your bedside with Captain at his feet. Bucky had explained you were following a mafia boss. Apparently, you had followed a lead but the boss knew about you. He had his goons crash into your car as you were driving to the compound. Doctors explained Steve that you had severe trauma to the head. Steve thought the image of your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks would haunt him for the rest of his life. He was wrong. You were bruised and bandaged, cuts ans scrapes littered all over your body. Your lifeless body hooked up to machines. That would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Expect the worst,” the doctor advise.

-=+=-

When you awoke, Steve was happy. You, on the other hand, were confused. Who was this blonde man celebrating your eyes opening? His smile quickly faded as he saw your confusion. “Do you know who I am?” he asked you and he prayed for a yes. But you did your best to shake your head. No. You didn’t know this man. 

The doctors explained that you had amnesia. The man at your bedside asked if your memories would be recovered, but the doctor didn’t give a definite answer. 

All you knew about yourself was your name, so you relied on the handsome blonde man to fill in the gaps. You returned to your room at the Avengers Compound a week after waking up. From what you gathered, he had a cabin in the woods, but he refused to go back. He chose to stay by your side. 

Throughout the weeks, he was your sense of comfort. Your sense of familiarity. Although you didn’t recognize him or had any memory of your past with him, something inside you told you to trust him. 

He explained to you what you did as a living -- an Avenger. He explained that you were married to him, he had photographic proof. He explained that you left him to go back to being an Avenger. You chuckled when he finished. “I’m an idiot,” you thought aloud. Why would you leave this man? 

Steve Rogers. 

Throughout your months recuperating, you found yourself falling in love with Steve Rogers. He tended to you and cared for you. Why would you leave such a man? You scolded past self daily for her mistake. 

“You good?” Steve asked as he finished drying your hair. You nodded. “You’re quiet today.”

“Just thinking,” you smiled. He hummed in response. “You don’t need to be my personal slave, Steve... I can dry my own hair.” 

He chuckled but didn’t respond. In truth, many of the small deeds that Steve did for you, you could do on your own. He just used it as an excuse to be around you -- not that you minded. 

He helped you get into your bed, tucking you in. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before turning to leave. You sat up on your bed and grabbed his arm. “Can you... uh... can you stay with me for the night?” 

Steve gave you a warm smile as he nodded. “Scoot over,” he said and you did as told. You turned to your side as he draped his arm over your waist. “This okay?” he asked, not wanting to push you. 

“Yeah.” Steve let out a sigh of relief. He was always careful. He knew with your situation, he shouldn’t expect you to still be in love with him. He fluttered around you like a moth to a light because he was afraid no one else would take care of you considering everyone in the compound was busy. And you were grateful for his company. 

“Stevie?” you asked after a few moments of silence. He hummed. “Do you think tomorrow... you can take me to the cabin?” You turned in the bed to look at him. 

He gave you a smile. “It’ll be my pleasure.” 

-=+=-

The next morning, he drove you up to the cabin. The ride was full of laughs as he played music that he claimed was your favorite. You danced in the passenger seat as he sung. Honestly, you preferred his singing over the music. 

He opened your passenger door and helped you get out the truck. You took in the sight of the cabin as he let Captain out the backseat. It felt familiar. 

Your fingertips grazed the wooden banister of the front porch. You suddenly had a memory of laughing as you sat on the porch, painting it with Steve. 

“Can I do something?” Steve asked, bringing you back to the present. You nodded. You let out a squeal as he suddenly picked you up bridal style.

“Steve!” You laughed as you squirmed in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tightly. “Don’t drop me!” 

He chuckled. “I won’t, I won’t!” 

He pushed the front door open as he maneuvered your bodies into the house. You were both a giggling mess as he finally let you down. He whistled for Captain who ran into the house and nuzzled his face into the back of your knee. You laughed as you bent down to scratch his ear. 

“So this was our home,” Steve said, a sad smile on his face as he closed the door. 

“Whoever decorated it had a great sense of style,” you complimented.

“Yeah, you definitely had a good eye.” Steve nodded.

“Oh c’mon, you helped too, right!” You argued. Steve just shook his head. 

“I mean, I suggested a thing or two,” he shrugged. “Go ‘head. Look around.” 

You smiled at him as you carefully walked around the house. You examined every little scratch in the paint, every trinket on display -- everything. There was a small desk pushed to the side of the living room. Its drawer was ajar. You opened it fully and saw sketches. Pages upon pages of sketches. 

Some were of the New York City skyline. Others were the trees that surrounded your home. There was one of the cabin. But what caught your eye were the drawings of a woman. Some had her posing. Some were candid with her washing the dishes, eating, looking out a window. Every detail was drawn. You smiled. “You’re quite the artist,” you told Steve.

He smirked, “what made you think those were mine?”

“Well, considering I’m not much of an artist,” you laughed. “And I’m not so self-absorbed that I’d draw myself.” He chuckled. “No, you’re really talented.” He muttered a thank you as you put the drawings back, closing the drawer. 

You turned and saw the fireplace. Steve stiffened when he realized what you were staring at -- the crooked picture frame. You frowned slightly as You carefully walked over and reached up to adjust it. 

After straightening it out, you realized what it was. Steve had shown you pictures of your wedding, but you had never seen this one. You were in the same white wedding gown and he his tux. The photo was taken off guard. You were in each other’s arms as you swayed to the music. 

You stared at the photo and it felt like it started moving. You remembered the ceremony. You remembered Steve tearing up as you walked down the aisle. You remembered Bucky and Sam sharing the honor of the best man and their bickering during the speeches. You remembered your speech and Steve’s. You remembered the honeymoon. The blissful getaway. You remembered him carrying you into the cabin. You remembered the fight. You remembered slamming the door shut and not looking back. 

You gasped as you backed away from the photo. Steve rushed to your side, catching you as you stumbled. “You alright?” He asked you. 

You blinked away tears as you nodded. You looked up at him and cupped his face in your hands, pulling him in for a kiss. He was surprised at first, but quickly melted into your touch. Oh, how he missed your touch. 

You pulled away. “I remember...” you smiled, happy tears falling from your eyes. “I remember...” 

[agapaic]

[19 days] sin city

this drabble is a gift to one of my dearest and biggest supporters, @geoviki​, who requested a bonus ‘second kiss’ continuation scene between he tian and guan shan in the ‘sweet tooth’ universe (a crazy rich asians-inspired fic), and i sincerely hope you enjoy it, viki! all my love, xxx

Guan Shan hasn’t set foot in God’s house since he was a kid. His mother goes every weekend when she doesn’t have a double shift, but he can’t bring himself to go with her. Too busy, too cynical. He knows he can’t struggle with his faith when he’s lost it; he doesn’t know if he ever found it. He knows without a doubt that he sins.

As it is, he isn’t burnt in the service, isn’t poisoned by the communion. He thinks that if anyone were to be dealt retribution then he wouldn’t be first in line. Singapore’s elite have bigger, dustier skeletons in their closets than Guan Shan, half-disintegrated with age.

He tells himself this through the readings and prayers and hymns he’s forgotten the words to, glances routinely through the stained-glass windows for a glimpse of an outside reality he can’t see. He can hear it: the rush of mid-morning traffic beyond the grassy verges of the church, neatly protected from the central business district by iron fencing and a half-acre of flower beds and rain trees.

Beneath the lip of the pew, where copies of the testaments, old and new, have been neatly placed and the firm, embroidered hassocks hang off metal hooks, He Tian squeezes Guan Shan’s hand.

‘Nearly done,’ he murmurs, while Father Joshua delivers his sermon on godliness in children and parental obedience.

Guan Shan's gaze slides to his. It’s one of the only things He Tian’s said the whole service.

‘You believe all this?’ he asks, whispering.

‘They do,’ He Tian replies, his lips barely moving.

Fans move lazily above them from the high steepled ceiling, their chains rattling over the din of the priest’s solemn tone. They don’t offer much: the inside of the church is still sticky with heat, and members of the congregation attempt to cool themselves with the service pamphlets or paperback copies of the Bible with broken spines and annotations in the margins.

From the seat in front of them, Guan Shan watches a bead of sweat slide down a woman’s neck, dampness collecting at the high laced collar of her Chanel dress. She has her own bamboo fan, painted with pretty avian sketches.

Guan Shan pulls his gaze away. ‘Which godly child are you?’ he asks He Tian quietly. ‘Absolom or Samuel?’

He Tian tries to hide a grin. ‘Destroyer of kingdoms or a monk?’ he questions, angling his head as if looking behind him. His breath is cool at Guan Shan’s ear. Guan Shan lets him lean close, breathing in sandalwood and khus oil. ‘Are those my only choices?’

Guan Shan sets his eyes forward. ‘Nothin’ else seems to be acceptable.’

‘Yes—they’re a stern lot.’

‘They should put their money where their mouth is.’

He Tian snorts quietly. He releases Guan Shan’s hand, and Guan Shan says nothing when his hand moves instead to rest innocently atop Guan Shan’s thigh.

‘He Tian…’ he starts to warn.

He Tian keeps his expression plain. ‘I told you if you came I’d make it worth your while.’

‘That’s not—’ Guan Shan bats his hand away. The gesture elicits a harsh smacking sound, and a few heads turn. Guan Shan presses his lips into a hard line. When eventually their attention shifts away again, Guan Shan hisses, ‘I’m not doin’ that.’

‘I thought you didn’t care much for His wrath,’ He Tian says, pointing discreetly upwards.

‘That’s got nothin’ to do with…’ Guan Shan breaks off. He Tian’s eyes are glittering. He’s joking with him. Guan Shan clenches his jaw. Murmuring, he says: ‘You shouldn’t mess with people like that.’

‘But you make it so much fun,’ He Tian whispers.

Guan Shan glares at him. He endures the rest of the sermon in stoic silence. Absolom, he thinks. He Tian, the destroyer of kingdoms—and young men’s hearts.

///

They linger outside after the sermon. The air is thick and charged with the aftermath of a morning thunderstorm, the ground wet with rain and the smell of petrichor. Guan Shan breathes in deeply, stepping back while He Tian greets strangers and allows middle-aged women to offer both cheeks for him to kiss, their husbands noticeably absent. They run their eyes over Guan Shan and the suit he’s going to make He Tian return by the end of the day, and He Tian politely evades their desire for introductions.

He knows everyone, Guan Shan realises, but it doesn’t surprise him. He’s seen the He family work a crowd at a party or a charity function. The lingering congregation of a Sunday mass is only another opportunity to schmooze and gossip.

‘Just another five minutes,’ He Tian murmurs at Guan Shan’s ear. ‘My father will have my hide if I don’t show my face for a decent length of time.’

‘How long’s that? By his standards?’

‘He’d have me go to brunch with someone’s mother and their daughter if he had his way.’

Guan Shan fingernails bite into his palms. The thought of He Tian being palmed off to some socialite’s offspring makes him bitter with jealousy. He’s seen He Tian only a few times since the charity function at the She estate, communicated with him mostly in veiled text messages and late night calls.

It’s been weeks since they’d shared the feeling of each other’s lips in a quiet room at the She mansion, weeks since they’d shared kueh with their legs dangling over the edge of a jetty across from Sentosa island. Most nights, Guan Shan still tastes both on his lips.

He’s got little stake to claim over the young heir of the He fortune, but he can’t help himself. He goes where He Tian asks him to, wears the suits He Tian buys him. Fuck, he’s started smoking his brand of cigarettes, too. And if He Tian wants to take him to church one Sunday morning so he has better company than a band of middle-aged women wanting him for themselves more than their daughters… Who is Guan Shan to say no after the first three times?

‘What are you thinking?’

Guan Shan blinks. Another church-goer has come and gone, and they’re alone. He Tian is watching him closely.

‘I want a cigarette,’ Guan Shan says. Technically, it’s not a lie.

He Tian snorts. ‘In the courtyard of our Lady of the Veil? Blasphemy, Mo Guan Shan.’

Guan Shan shrugs. He remembers their exchange at the threshold of the church, where two children no more than ten stood with a coin bowl held out, covered in pool-table green cloth and more cash than Guan Shan earns from a month’s tips.

‘I’m not a Catholic,’ he’d told He Tian, feeling strangely compelled to tell him with an even stranger degree of anxiety about the fact, as if it were a make-or-break moment for something they had that could neither be made nor broken.

He Tian had snorted then, too. ‘Don’t worry,’ he’d said, stepping through the doors, palming the children a few bills to line their pockets. ‘Neither am I.’

Now, Guan Shan watches as He Tian reaches into the lining of his suit jacket and pulls out a carton of cigarettes from the pocket. It’s too warm to stand outside in their Sunday best for long, and He Tian tugs Guan Shan over beneath the shade of an Indian-almond tree, its boughs offering some cool relief to a small section of the church courtyard.

Guan Shan watches He Tian light a cigarette between his lips, the flame close to his fingers. It catches; there’s a cherry red glow. Smoke blooms between them, and then He Tian plucks the cigarette from his lips and holds it out as if it’s a newly picked flower.

‘Here,’ he says. A moment passes, where Guan Shan doesn’t take it. ‘I thought you wanted it.’

‘I do, I just—’ Guan Shan can feel his cheeks starting to redden. He swallows. His throat has gone dry. He can hear the voices of men and women standing before the church. He knows some of them are watching, wondering, eager to know who his family is and where he’s come from and how he has captured He Tian’s attention with such painful, singular attentiveness.

‘You’re not—’ He Tian breaks off with a laugh. ‘You’re not worried that I’ve touched it, are you?’

Guan Shan looks away, and He Tian’s eyes widen.

‘Oh,’ he says. His smile grows wider. ‘Mo Guan Shan,’ he croons. ‘I didn’t know you were such a puritan. How proud He’d be.’

‘Shut up,’ Guan Shan mutters.

He Tian’s stance shifts, intrigued. ‘If I’d known it took an indirect kiss to make you blush, Man Upstairs be damned, I’d have put my mouth elsewhere a long time ago.’

‘Shut up.’

He Tian’s laughter is deep as he takes a drag of his cigarette. Some of the women are frowning at him. The hot breeze carries the smoke in their direction, and they waft it away with their fans and paper service pamphlets, rouged mouths pursing tightly. He smiles at them, all affable apologies, and they can’t begrudge him long.

‘They want you to fuck them,’ Guan Shan mutters.

He Tian’s eyes flick to his, and his smile grows indulgent. ‘I know,’ he says.

‘You’re not gonna do anythin’ about it?’

‘Like what?’

Guan Shan grits his teeth. ‘Like—tell them to fuck off?’

He Tian snorts. ‘They’re old friends of the family. And you forget they haven’t made me an offer, sweetheart.’

‘And if they did?’

He Tian considers him carefully. His playfulness begins to fade. ‘You’re jealous,’ he says. ‘Of them?’

‘They’d divorce their investment husbands if they knew they had a chance with you.’

He Tian taps cigarette ash to the ground. He looks away, squinting at the skyline, considering something, before taking a step forward.

‘Firstly,’ says He Tian, his voice low, ‘if they had a chance with me they’d know it. Secondly, there’d be no divorce or marriage to a man twenty years their junior because their reputations wouldn’t survive the scandal. And thirdly: what the fuck would I want with them when I have the prospect of a whole indirect kiss with you?’

Guan Shan glares at him. ‘Gimme that,’ he says, snatching the cigarette from He Tian’s fingers before putting it to his lips. He nearly chokes on the inhale, eyes watering, and smoke seeps from the corners of his mouth before he can control it the way he wants it to. There’s nothing attractive about it, but he catches He Tian watching him with an indulgent smile.

‘It’s been five minutes,’ He Tian says, taking a glance at his watch. ‘We can go now. I promised to buy you brunch. You’re still happy with Orchard Road?’

‘I’m not finished,’ Guan Shan says.

He Tian’s brows lift. ‘You can’t smoke and walk?’

‘I didn’t mean that.’

He Tian tilts his head. ‘Oh?’

‘I meant—it’s not really fair, is it? It’s always—always you kissin’ me, and shit.’

‘Always?’

‘Yeah, with the—distractin’ the guards at She Li’s house and with—’ He makes a vague gesture. ‘—the cigarette and—’

‘Guan Shan—’

‘—it’s only fair that I get to prove my own fuckin’ point too—’

‘Mo Guan Shan—’

‘So will you just shut up and let me kiss you?’

He Tian stares at him.

Then he swallows.

‘If you really want to,’ he starts, ‘I suppose I’m in no position to—mmphh!’

It isn’t tender or soft, and Guan Shan is vaguely aware of the cigarette burning to ash between his fingers. He lets it fall, hopes he’s ground it out beneath his foot properly and remembers to pick it up after or risk a fine, but first: this. His fingers tightly locked in the dark strands of He Tian’s hair; He Tian’s lips bruising against his own, the sharp gasps of the women loitering by the church doors.

It’s exactly as he remembers from last time. A crushing pressure, the sense of being caught unawares. No finesse. Guan Shan knows it could be slower, that they could take their time, a pilgrimage of vulnerability and one body learning another, but something possessive in him has taken over—this is a crusade.

He Tian’s answering kiss twists into a grin against Guan Shan’s mouth. Guan Shan swallows He Tian’s amusement down, finds the feel of He Tian’s smile against his lips unfairly alluring. He does his best to try and rid He Tian of it, crowding close until He Tian’s back hits the trunk of the almond tree and He Tian is groaning beneath the pressure of his lips. He tastes the acrid smoke of their shared cigarette and He Tian’s breath mints, feels the humid beat of the mid-morning sun—and He Tian’s hand pressing gently at his chest.

He pulls away, staggering and breathing hard. With satisfaction, he notes that He Tian is, too.

‘I think we’re even now,’ says He Tian, a slight rasp to his voice. His eyes are bright and he runs his thumbnail over his lower lip, which has gone swollen and red. ‘You’ve suitably convinced your audience.’

Guan Shan looks away. ‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.’

‘Oh?’ He Tian asks, amused. ‘That wasn’t you staking your claim?’

Guan Shan hesitates. Part of him can’t bear to look behind him. ‘Are you gonna be excommunicated?’

He Tian chuckles. ‘I’m sure I can find my way back in. Father Joshua is particularly fond of He Cheng’s hideously curvaceous Bugatti.’

‘Guess that’s somethin’,’ Guan Shan mutters.

In answer, He Tian sweeps a hand through the loose strands of Guan Shan’s red hair that have slipped down across his forehead. The touch is fond and familiar and makes Guan Shan swallow hard.

‘You know,’ says He Tian. ‘You can do that any time you want. Not just to prove a point.’

‘You haven’t,’ says Guan Shan, an accusation.

‘I didn’t want to scare you off. I realise last time I was a bit—’

‘Forceful?’

‘Abrupt,’ He Tian corrects delicately. ‘But still—I don’t want you to think you’re any less mine.’

Guan Shan looks at him. ‘Thought you couldn’t have anythin’ you wanted.’

‘Ah…’ He Tian drops his hand, leans back on the heels of his Louis Vitto’s. Almost boyishly, he says, ‘I thought it was a done deal. You and me.’

Guan Shan neither confirms or denies. Instead he asks, ‘Who’d you trade with to get that impression?’

He Tian nods his head upwards. ‘Did it work? I sold my soul for it. ’

‘And they still let you in?’

He Tian’s look is sinful. ‘They let the worst of us through.’

Guan Shan rolls his eyes. He wets his lips. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘I think you’re on a decent road to redemption.’

‘Is that your way of saying it was a worthwhile bargain?’ Tell me it worked.

‘Is that your way of askin’ if I’m yours?’ Guan Shan asks. All these riddles and metaphors—sometimes he has to bring them back to the ground, make sure they’re on the same page.

‘I—Yes.’

Guan Shan nods, then jerks his chin in a challenge. ‘Make me believe it and I might be.’

He Tian’s eyes flicker towards the church just for a moment, but then he smirks, reaffirming their closeness with one step. ‘Mo Guan Shan,’ he murmurs, angling his head down, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

[poptimus-prime]

Here is what the kids call my highly disorganized, half-baked list of stuff that could have been done with Jack to make him a better character.

@yeetmetothehell I am sorry if you are disappointed by my ideas.

“Optimus was more like...Jack.” OK…so show us that.

In my opinion...Jack seems like he was intended to be written to be almost a parallel to Orion’s journey to becoming Optimus Prime, at least how he is used in the plot. Jack is described as “smart and responsible”, which can also be read as “hardworking and responsible” and really this can be achieved in narratively using a few points, IMO:

Long hours in his room/the library studying outside of work and school. 

Filling out the background of the garage more with sketches/print outs of motorcycle blueprints (to keep the idea that Jack really wants a motorcycle and show hints of extreme dedication, but they’re kept in the garage rather than his room to metaphorically show that distance he’s put between himself and what he wants)

“Man of the House”/”Grew up too fast” (This will be discussed more later but TL;DR “I’ll handle the electric bill this month, Mom”)

Somewhat fragile work/school/life balance that Jack somehow perfectly maintained before meeting the team

Orion was very physically passive. Jack seems to be intended to be written as passive but it comes off as an apathetic reluctance that Orion doesn’t possess (Orion may not believe in violence but he clearly wasn’t unwilling to communicate his thoughts; it’s how he got the title of Prime in the first place.) However, Orion had to learn to become more outspoken over time probably, so we can keep him as being aloof/reluctant at the start of the series.

“Man of the House”/”Grew up too Fast”

It’s no secret Jack came from a nonconventional home; June is very explicitly portrayed as a single mother with a dad nowhere in the picture. However the situation surrounding Mr. Darby is unknown. The way June talks about it makes me personally feel like Jack’s dad either ran out or divorced June and doesn’t bother with his kid. Dysfunction in the family really just goddamn changes you TBH. (can confirm bc hi, I come from a dysfunctional home) Sometimes you just grow up super fast. Jack probably spent his childhood missing his mom as she worked shifts at the hospital and seeing how lonely and hurt she was. He maybe went out and got a job the first day he could and helps with smaller bills (“I’ll handle the electric bill this month.”), or maybe other expenses like groceries and his own phone bill. June probably makes enough to comfortably support her and her son, especially given her job and the cost of living in rural ass desert Nevada. But Jack still does this anyways--it’s how he copes with his issues after what happened with his dad. Doubling down and trying to be what he thinks is the bigger man because his dad couldn’t be fucked. 

This would make the disruption him letting the bots into his life creates more staggering; June doesn’t expect her son to pay bills, but the sudden change in behavior (skipping out on work) would be a cause for concern because sudden shifts like that are Usually Signs that Something is Very Wrong. Especially because Jack is usually responsible and open with his mom; he would have told her if he was gonna cut hours at work, theoretically.

Jack feels like he has to constantly put his own wants aside to contribute to his household. Even if June doesn’t force this expectation upon him, it’s a feeling that he will have, especially if he watched his dad just abandon him and June. Maybe he has resentment towards his dad for this and that is causing some anger he’s keeping tightly under wraps? And maybe the bots give him an excuse to do something he actually wants to do for once or some excitement in his life and that’s why he goes along with it? Lots of options, people!

Clothing Choices: The Hoodie™

You are going to have to deal with me being a whore for costuming choices and what they can mean. The show has a problem with the humans wearing the same shit every time they’re on screen and I’d love to rant about all of them (yeah yeah I get it saving money) but I’m focusing on Jack right now. Give Jack a hoodie 2020. A grey one or some other dull and drab color. And make him actually always wear the hood (except like in scenes where he is working bc workplace dress codes obviously) As time progresses, the drab hoodie is changed to a more vibrant color, but he still always has the hood over his head. And then, at a pivotal moment, the boy takes the hood off. (You could even throw in Miko cracking a joke about Jack actually having hair if you really wanted TBH.) Why this? The narrative is that Jack is constantly holding himself under wraps because of his self-imposed responsibilities. As he starts to become more into his own, he decides to express himself more with brighter colors, but still has some reservations. When he takes the hoodie off, that’s when he’s fully realized himself in this process and thus completes the parallel.

Actually make him interact with Optimus in a meaningful manner.

Arcee can still be his guardian in the field and I think working on strengthening their relationship is vital. But also, if you’re gonna make Jack the confidante holding the key to Vector Sigma, there actually has to be...meaningful interaction. Optimus asking Jack what he’s so engrossed in reading and Jack explaining the book he’s got with passion before shutting himself up and saying “it’s kinda dumb though” or something. And Optimus just responds “I don’t think it’s dumb, tell me more.” Coaxing him towards more self-discovery and expression. Optimus maybe sees more of his old self in Jack and starts attempting to be a quasi-paternal figure without really thinking about it because he is, after all, Dadimus. Jack maybe lashes out about how he doesn’t need Optimus to be his dad and that makes the space between them tense for a while. Eventually Jack comes to apologize and maybe there’s an important Talk.. Just a few ideas I will expand on later. I feel like forgiveness and lack thereof is a good theme--I know I was held back for a long time because of how convoluted the concept of forgiveness is with family.

The Character Arc

 So, what would Jack’s character development throughout the events of season 1 be? My basic idea for a Jack arc that mirrors Orion’s self-realization and coming into Prime-hood without being a carbon copy is essentially: 

Jack is portrayed as a responsible, hardworking, studious teenager who constantly turns down chances for fun and excitement to handle his responsibilities. Has clear dreams for after high school and for his own personal life; but he’s constantly contemplating and changing his mind about whether he will or not because he’s extremely dedicated to helping his mom and all that. However, he still gets super curious about Arcee and gets swept up by her in the Vehicon chase, and he still has whispers of courage and protects Raf during the altercation. He first tries to ditch Team Prime because he’s concerned about his responsibilities, but eventually returns because he’s drawn to the opportunity to finally go buck wild for once in his life (even if he spends his time being hesitant about everything.) His hesitancy and dedication to severe self-imposed responsibility is a result of his inability to move on from what his dad did to him and his mom; he’s under the impression that he 1) Has to forgive someone to move on, and thus 2) He cannot move on because his dad isn’t there to bother to say sorry and take on his position as Dad. In essence, he becomes less the character telling Miko to stop and more the character being pushed by Miko to be more adventurous. In lulls in action, Optimus starts to take interest in him when he notices his constant hesitance to express himself and is just being dragged along rather than going willingly. Has a conversation with him about a book Jack’s reading, which Jack attempts to shut down because it’s “dumb and childish,” but Optimus urges him to continue. The idea that June knows about Arcee as a bike and Jack explaining that he bought a motorcycle as a fixer-upper for dirt cheap can stay. (He probably still is saving up for his motorcycle.)

The longest portion, after Optimus starts interacting with Jack on a level of bonding and gently coaxing him to be himself— Jack becomes more outspoken and he’s shown as curious, analytical, quick witted, and has a deep sense of justice. Being young and craving a childhood lost to his trauma and self-imposed obligations to help his mom with running the household, he suddenly starts spending more time at the base pursuing hobbies and going on missions rather than studying and work, which concerns June. She tries to press Jack, and is met with what can be described as typical teenage headbutting that gets progressively worse. She grounds Jack after the fight, MECH takes her, the rescue happens. (That makes sense to stay in this narrative IMO.) Around this time, Optimus has effectively started becoming Jack’s own Alpha Trion—teaching him things that he’s picked up that he may feel apply to Jack. Jack interprets one of these lessons as Optimus trying to be “dad” and he’s not having it. Makes it VERY clear that he does not need a dad (“didn’t need one before and sure as fuck don’t need one now”) and definitely snaps at Optimus, which then pushes his progress in the arc closer to the end. He eventually comes back to apologize, and Optimus forgives him. He and Optimus have a heart-to-heart about one of the hardest lessons Optimus has had to learn—how to let go of the past without forgiving those who have hurt you and refuse to make amends, so that you may determine your own future. It’s very clear he’s talking about Megatron, even though he never says his name. Jack takes this lesson to heart.

His final bit of development before the hood removal thing probably happens during the events of “Rock Bottom” and reinforces that hard lesson, right when he’s faced with the option to off Megatron. Maybe there’s some taunting about how Optimus preaches softness and forgiveness too much when Jack refuses to kill him. Jack gets angry, and he’s about to fucking do it. But then he stops, takes a breath, and says “Optimus doesn’t preach forgiveness, he preaches moving on from those who refuse to move on themselves. He will never forgive you, but he’s learned to live on despite what you’ve done.” Soon after this, when Megatron comes to the base, Jack takes off his hood, stares Megatron right in the face, and says “This is not forgiveness, Megatron. Don’t you forget that.” Later, when Optimus gives him the key, he tells him something along the lines of “you have grown since we’ve met, Jack, and even though there is still a long way for you to go...” he hands Jack the key. “...Remember that even I am a work in progress.”

Anyways this is again, half-baked. And needs lots of polishing. But it’s something.

[olliedollie1204]

everything fits (3/8)- the next day

Single father Patton is utterly devoted to his son Virgil. Recently divorced Logan is utterly devoted to his twin sons Remus and Roman. The pieces come together.

Pairings: Romantic Logicality

Word Count: 4,522

Previous Chapters: 1 2 

woohoo chapter 3! and the last of my ‘mostly pre-written, just needs some final touches’ chapters for this fic lol. this chapter also has the first taglist for this series! if you want to be added to/remove from the taglist, lmk!

(Read it on AO3!)

“And then, Rem, you’ll never believe it— he waved at Logan!” Patton exclaimed, leaning against the counter he was only halfway finished with wiping down.

If anybody else had been his manager, Patton imagined that he would’ve gotten written up for how little work he had done today.

Lucky for him, as the sole founder and proprietor of the Sandman Cafe, Remy Dormer didn’t give a fuck if his best friend since childhood took a break from peddling overpriced coffee to brag about his son.

“No shit?” Remy asked, his eyebrows raised so high they disappeared behind his carefully styled bangs. “Didn’t know Lil’ Hart had it in him.”

Patton grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “I mean it, I’d be late to work every single day if it meant I got to see him smile like that.”

“How late were you?”

Patton pursed his lips. “About an hour,” he admitted. “My supervisor wasn’t too happy, but we were short staffed, so she didn’t write me up or anything.”

Remy sighed. “I can’t wait until you get out of that shithole.”

“It’s really not so bad,” Patton defended, although he didn’t really know why he was bothering. “I mean, I pick up some boxes, I put ‘em in a truck. Rinse and repeat!”

Remy still looked unhappy. “At least when you bartend, you get tips. All you get there is back pain and calluses.” As he spoke, he suddenly jumped up from the stool he was perched on, pushing it over to Patton. “Sit down, Pops.”

Patton snorted. “You’re six months older than me,” he protested, but he did take advantage of getting off his feet for a bit.

“Besides, I like doing hands-on work like that,” Patton continued, speaking in truth. “It makes me feel good about myself. Like I’m doing everything I can to provide for my family.”

Remy snorted. “You sound like such a dad.”

“Well, I am one, aren’t I?” Patton replied. Remy raised his hands in defeat.

“No complaints from me. Virgil’s the best kid I know.”

“And how many kids do you know, exactly?”

Remy waved his hand dismissively. “Unimportant. Point is, you bust your ass for your kid, and I love that about you.”

Patton couldn’t help the ‘aw’ that escaped from his lips. “I love you too, Rem!”

Remy smirked back. “Course ya do, babes,” he replied as he moved to count the money in the register. “I’m a delight.”

Patton laughed, settling back comfortably, letting the familiar banter between the old friends fall away into a companionable silence. 

“It really was a wonderful morning,” he murmured.

“And it’s all thanks to that tall, dark stranger, huh?” Remy teased.

Patton was grateful that Remy’s back was to him, so he couldn’t see the shit-eating grin his friend was definitely giving him right now. “Remy—” 

“I mean, Patty, be real: he was cute, right?”

“Remy!” Patton laughed, feeling himself getting flustered. “It— he— it wasn’t—”

Remy threw his head back in laughter, shoulders shaking.

“Calm down, Papa Bear, don’t have a heart attack.”

Patton didn’t answer, just crossed his arms and tried to not embarrass himself further.

“Besides, if he made Virgil smile, I don’t give a shit what he looked like. He’s a hero in my book,” Remy continued with a tone of finality.

Patton shook his head in wonder, thinking back to the little wave Logan gave him right before Virgil ushered them both out of the office. “I swear, I’ve never seen Virgil so happy to talk to a stranger before.”

He paused.

“Not that I encourage my child to talk to strangers!” he stated a little louder, eyes darting around to reassure any eavesdroppers that there was no need to call Child Protective Services.

“Honey, we’re so dead right now, I’m about to call a mortician to see what’s up,” Remy said flippantly, gesturing to the empty tables and chairs in front of him. “Say whatever the hell you want.”

He wasn’t wrong: at the moment there were only a handful of regulars scattered throughout the trendy cafe, but Patton knew enough about working service industry jobs to know not to be naive. The rhythm of customers ebbed and flowed, and at any moment there could be a rush of business that would keep Patton and Remy busy for hours.

Patton leaned backwards slightly to check on his son. Virgil was sitting in the back room with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones over his head, his sketch pads and crayons scattered on the table before him. Patton watched as he stuck his tongue out, carefully tracing seemingly random shapes onto the paper with a blue crayon before switching to fill them in with a purple one.

Satisfied, Patton turned back to the conversation.

“And you know, when we finally did make it to his class, he wasn’t even worried about being late anymore,” Patton continued. “I mean, he still didn’t say anything to the other kids, just went straight over to Kai, but he was still smiling by the time I had finished explaining everything to Dr. Picani, so…” 

Patton didn’t miss the way Remy paused in counting the money in the register for just a moment, before returning to the task with a forced air.

“Oh, how is the Doc doing?” he asked casually, not making eye contact with his best friend.

“Pretty good, I think,” Patton replied. “We did talk about his recent trip to Hawaii, I think he said it was his honeymoon—”

Patton jumped as Remy dropped the handful of quarters he had been rolling.

“What?” he asked, looking at Patton with such a look of panic that he couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Remy flushed. “Oh, you— you motherfucker—”

He continued to hurl baseless insults at Patton as the two squatted down to pick up the coins.

“Gotta say, Rem,” Patton teased, relishing in the blush that covered his typically unshakeable friend’s face, “You’ve seemed very invested in the goings on of Dr. Picani lately.”

He shifted backwards to sit criss-cross applesauce on the floor behind the counter, resting his hand on his chin and smirking.

“Is there anything you wanna share with the class?”

Remy scoffed, still picking up the coins one by one.

“I’m just… curious about the guy, okay?” he replied defensively. “I mean, Lord knows we never had a teacher who seemed to give a shit about his students, and this guy… does.”

He faltered for a moment, before blustering on, “Whatever. I don’t even know him. I don’t care what he does.”

Remy stood up, dusting off his pants as he continued sorting the money. Patton looked up at him with an expression of barely-contained amusement.

“... So have you picked out the outfit you’re gonna wear when we see him on Monday?” 

Remy scoffed again. “Of course, I’m not an animal.”

Patton heard the bell above the front door ring, and saw Remy’s eyes shift from the register to the door.

“Can you take this one?” he asked, looking down at Patton. “I gotta run to the back for some change.”

He turned and walked away before Patton could answer, leaving him to scramble above the counter just as the customer arrived.

“Welcome to the Sandman, what can I get for ya?” Patton asked chipperly, slipping into his customer service voice with a practiced ease as he slid on a pair of rubber gloves.

He looked up just in time to see the customer’s eyes widen in shock at his sudden appearance.

“Wow, how long have you been hiding back there?” he asked, eyeing Patton up and down.

Patton gave a polite laugh. “Just waiting for you to walk in!”

… Okay. That wasn’t great. Patton had meant ‘you’ in a general way, as in ‘a customer that Patton was getting paid to talk to’ kind of way, but from the way the man’s smile spread, Patton couldn’t help but feel there had been a teensy tiny misunderstanding.

“Well, I hope I’m worth the wait,” he replied smoothly. Patton gave him a tightlipped smile.

“What can I get you?”

Thank gosh, the man didn’t push it, ordering a large iced chai latte to go. Patton busied himself with making the drink, his hands shaking just a little bit. He forced them to stop, taking a deep breath before turning around with a smile plastered on his face.

“That’ll be five bucks even,” he stated, sliding the cup across the counter as the man opened his wallet.

He handed Patton a five, then made a show of placing another five in the tip jar.

“Tip, tip, hooray!” Patton cheered lightly. Remy told him that chant was the dorkiest thing he’d ever heard, and under no circumstances was Patton allowed to utter that phrase within the walls of his chic coffee shop. Patton generally ignored him on that one.

He looked away to place the money in the register, but when his gaze rose he saw the man still standing there, sipping the drink while making… slightly uncomfortable eye contact with Patton.

He paused. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

The man hummed. “A couple things,” he said, loudly swirling the ice in his drink. “Your name, maybe. And your phone number.”

It didn’t sound like a request. Patton felt himself grimace before he smoothed his expression into something more customer friendly.

“I’d prefer not to give out my personal information to a stranger,” he replied, willing his voice to come out clearly despite the tremble he felt in his throat.

The man shrugged. “If we get to know each other, we won’t be strangers.”

He leaned over the counter, dripping tea onto the surface that Patton had just wiped down.

“So what’s a pretty guy like you doing in a place like this?”

And that set off all sorts of alarm bells in Patton’s head. He couldn’t stop the way his face contorted at the man’s tone, his words, his body language, the way he called him ‘pretty’, like he was some kind of— 

Patton shut that thought down immediately.

“Working, actually,” he snapped instead, watching the man’s smile slide off of his face.

“And if you’ll excuse me,” he continued, voice raised a little bit in an attempt to get Remy’s attention, “I need you to get off the counter.”

The man sneered, opening his mouth again, and Patton tensed— 

“He’s right,” Remy announced, coming out of nowhere to lean over the counter and look the man dead in the face. “We sell drinks, not dates. Maybe go get a personality and you won’t have to drop a fiver just to get someone to talk to you.”

The man glowered back in a weak attempt at intimidation, but the glare Remy was leveling him with was not leaving any room for discussion. He scoffed, standing upright and shooting Patton a dirty look before walking away, slamming the door on his way out and causing every patron in the place to jump.

Remy swiped the dishrag from Patton’s apron pocket, wiping away the drips of tea like they personally offended him.

“Fuckin’... I hate assholes like that,” he muttered, not looking at Patton. Patton watched him clench and unclench his jaw for a moment.

“Rem,” Patton said softly, “I’m okay.” He placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder, who leaned into the touch subconsciously.

“Daddy? Remy?”

The two turned to the small voice coming from the back room. Virgil’s head was just barely visible peeking out from behind the door frame, his hood pulled so far over his head he had to lean backwards to see the two men from underneath it.

Patton’s face broke into a genuine smile at the cute sight before he even realized it. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“Um, um, I, um—” Virgil started, twisting his body a little as he stared nervously out into the cafe. He fell silent, gnawing on his lower lip, and looked at Patton with worried eyes.

“Go help your stormcloud, Daddy,” Remy said with his usual flippancy, reaching a hand to Patton’s on his shoulder and squeezing it lightly. “I’ll man the counter.”

Patton squeezed his shoulder in return, and quickly moved to the back room. Upon confirming that Patton was coming to join him, Virgil took a few shuffling steps forward and held his arms out to be picked up.

“Upsy daisy!” Patton said as he reached his son, hoisting Virgil onto his hip as he took them both into the break room. He moved to put Virgil down on the small couch they kept in the back for emergency naps, but Virgil gripped Patton’s shirtsleeves tight and wordlessly shook his head.

“Oh, you want snuggles, kiddo?” Patton asked. Virgil hesitated for a few moments before nodding, burying his head into the crook of Patton’s neck.

“Alrighty then,” Patton said, gingerly sitting on the couch without disrupting his son’s position against his chest. One hand rubbed Virgil’s back slowly yet firmly, while the other pulled down Virgil’s hood to toy with his hair.

“Vibe check, kiddo?”

He felt Virgil breath deeply against his shoulder.

“I, um, I, um— he, he was mean,” Virgil said, his voice muffled through the fabric.

Patton froze, then deflated a little. “You saw me talking to that man, huh, stormcloud?”

Virgil nodded. “He was not nice,” he emphasized. Patton smiled a little.

“I don’t know what kind of person he is, but you’re right. The way he was acting just now was not very nice.”

Patton figured the guy was just as much of a douche in the rest of his life as he was a few minutes ago, but it was important for Virgil to know the difference between ‘doing something bad’ and ‘being a bad person’.

“Well, don’t worry,” he continued, making his voice sound confident. “Remy told him to run away and never, ever come back.”

Virgil pulled back to look up at Patton. “Not even for a hundred years?”

Patton grinned. “Not even for a hundred, hundred years.”

Virgil gasped, eyes widening as he tried to picture a number that big.

“Not even, not even for a hundred, hundred, hundred years?” he asked, jaw dropped.

“Not even for a hundred, hundred, hundred, hundred—” Patton leaned his face closer to Virgil’s, pressing their foreheads together as he finished, “—hundred years!”

The two burst into giggles, Virgil wiggling at the feeling of Patton leaning his head on his. “Daddy!”

Patton laughed, pulling his head back and letting Virgil lean back against his chest.

“Two minutes or five?”

Virgil chewed on his lip as he thought. “Five, please, thank you.”

Patton nodded. “Five minute snuggles, it is.”

As he leaned back into the couch, Patton thought back to the rude customer.

He was attractive, Patton supposed, but his personality was an obvious deal breaker. And if Virgil could tell he was mean without even talking to him? Oh, there was no question in Patton’s mind that he did the right thing by turning him down.

Still, he sighed, curling his arms tighter around his son.

He wasn’t… opposed to the idea of dating. Despite the struggles of his day-to-day life, he was generally happy. He had so much to be happy about! Virgil, and Remy, and his jobs, and the fact that he had come so much farther than he’d ever thought he could. His life wasn’t perfect, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He just wished he had someone to share that life with. Romantically.

Over the sound of his troubled thoughts, he heard Virgil inhale deeply, shoving his head into his chest and rubbing his little cheek against the fabric of his shirt. Patton grinned, reaching up to brush some of Virgil’s hair back behind his ear.

“Love you, kiddo,” he murmured. Virgil made a muffled sound into his chest that Patton knew was his son returning the sentiment.

He sighed a little, rubbing Virgil’s back in soothing circles. Virgil was his number one, his little stormcloud. As long as he knew Virgil was happy, healthy, and safe, that’s all Patton needed to worry about. Save the dating for later. Hopefully.

~

“... And out of nowhere, he looked me right in the face and said, ‘Larry, I just can’t with you right now!’”

The jovial man could barely get the words out before breaking into loud laughter. “Logan, when I tell you I almost peed my pants—”

“I’ll have another talk with Remus about referring to his teachers by their last names only,” Logan stated, skimming the pamphlet they had gotten at the meeting.

“Only because I don’t want everyone to start doing it,” Larry replied with what seemed like genuine regret. “Don’t punish the kid for being a comedic genius.”

A banging at the door of the classroom made the two men jump.

“Sorry!” called Dot, entering with two bags of takeout in her arms. “The darn bags are slipping, so unless you guys want to eat your dinner off the floor—”

Larry was already rushing to help his wife. Emile followed her into the classroom, carrying a bottle of Coke and a pack of red solo cups.

“We’re borrowing these from the teacher’s lounge,” he chirped, placing them on the table where Dot and Larry deposited the food.

Larry raised an eyebrow. “Wow, a whole two liter? Emile, you criminal!”

Emile shrugged, smiling innocently as he poured each of them a cup. “What? I didn’t steal anything; they were in the teacher’s lounge, and we’re teachers, so technically—” 

“Technically, we’re trespassing,” Logan interjected as he began sorting through and passing out the food. “Even though Dot has the key to her classroom, the school itself is private property, and therefore should we be caught here after hours by law enforcement, there would most likely be legal repercussions—”

“Fuck cops!” Larry cut Logan off, raising his solo cup in the air with a defiant attitude.

“Fuck cops!” Dot and Emile echoed, the three of them tapping their cups of wine together before downing them like they were doing tequila shots at a college party.

Logan smiled. “I'm glad we're all teaching our children the important lessons.”

“Speaking of teaching children…” Emile said as the four began to dig into their food with gusto, “who’s ready for the meet and greet on Monday?”

His chipper tone of voice was met with three groans, causing his jaw to drop. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad!”

“I just don’t get why they had to schedule the seminar and the meet and greet on the same darn week!” Dot replied. Larry nodded in agreement.

“And like, what do they even want us to say? It’s only been a couple weeks— I’ve barely gotten to know some of my students!”

“It’s merely the school encouraging us to form more personal connections with the students’ families, in order to ensure more funding from their respective donations,” Logan replied without thinking, much more focused on his burger than the conversation.

“No kidding,” Emile said, scowling at his burrito like it personally offended him. “I just wish we could really get to know our students, and their families, too.”

Visions of a man in a blue polo shirt flashed through Logan’s mind.

“Itinerary check for Monday,” he announced suddenly, flipping open his notebook and turning to the proper page despite his friends’ groans. “The doors to the auditorium open at five. At six, the principal gives the welcome speech and PTA information about the upcoming year, and given how they tend to ramble—”

“More like they just love the sound of their own voice,” Dot muttered.

“We should be ready to begin speed meetings by seven,” Logan finished. “Dot, you’ll have about eight minutes to talk to the guardians of each student. Larry, five, and Emile, unfortunately it looks like you’re down to three and a half minutes per student.”

He pulled out the spreadsheet he had made the night before, sliding it across the table with the math he’d done to get those calculations.

Larry snorted. “Wow, someone had a lot of free time on their hands.”

Logan felt his chest tighten just slightly, but he pushed past it to finish, “If this all goes according to plan, we should be packing up our tables by eight at the latest. Then Emile will be home in time to feed his cats, Dot and Larry will be home in time for The Bachelor, and—”

“And you’ll be home with plenty of time to spare before the good night call,” Emile finished. He smiled softly and reached over to pat Logan’s hand in appreciation. “I’ll help you pack your table when we inevitably aren’t out of there by eight.”

Logan bristled. “Well, that won’t be necessary, since we will be out of there by eight. My timeline clearly shows—”

“Has your timeline factored the amount of chatty PTA parents, shy or stubborn students, and overall incompetence of our administration?” Larry asked blithely, grinning when he made Dot snort behind her solo cup.

Logan’s mouth opened and shut for a moment before he looked back at his spreadsheet.

“It’s not my fault I prioritize punctuality,” he grumbled slightly. Emile laughed, reaching over again to jostle Logan’s arm, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling along.

Dot pulled the spreadsheet closer, peering at it over her glasses. “Wow, you really put a lot of thought into this, L. You think we can really get the whole gym set up in less than twenty minutes?

Logan shrugged. “We’re a highly competent bunch. Not to mention the PTA volunteers will be there to assist.”

“You know, it’s really nice to know there are people who would come in on their day off to put out hundreds of folding chairs before sitting through an hour long assembly,” Larry said. Dot nodded, chewing vigorously and pointing at Larry.

“And the decorations!” she added after swallowing. “I mean, gosh, the streamers, the banners, the snack table—”

At the mention of the snack table, Emile made an appreciative noise. “Oh my goodness, do you remember that babka someone brought in for the last assembly? With the cinnamon?”

Both Larry and Dot nodded enthusiastically. Logan didn’t remember it; he didn’t usually go for the complimentary food brought in by the parent volunteers. He shrugged, eyes back on his food as the others continued to talk.

“Gosh, that was good,” Emile continued. “I want that recipe so bad! Do we remember who brought it in?”

“Hm, not sure. Dee, wasn’t it a kid from your class? That’s why we got first dibs on it.”

“Oh, yeah… was it Virgil?”

Logan froze.

“Yes!” Emile said, snapping and nodding. “Yes, it was Virgil’s daddy— oh gosh, what’s his name…” 

“Patton?” The word slipped out before Logan had even fully processed what he was saying.

The other three looked at him.

“Yes, that’s it,” Dot replied in surprise. “Patton Hart. How did you know that?”

“We met yesterday morning,” Logan replied, eyes on his food again. “I gave him access to the building, and we had a conversation. He was exceedingly pleasant—” 

“Oh!” Emile cut off Logan with a gasp as he whirled on Dot. “Oh, Dot, I can’t believe I forgot— Virgil really came out of his shell yesterday!”

Dot perked up, sitting forward; Logan assumed she must have been Virgil’s teacher the year before. “Really?”

He nodded quickly. “Oh my God, Dot, you should’ve seen it. I mean, Virgil was glowing when he came in!” Emile waved his hands wildly, his excitement for his student shining out of him. “And you’ll never believe this— we were making things out of clay at art time, and when I asked if anyone wanted to talk about their work, he raised his hand!”

Dot gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Are you kidding me?” She turned to her husband, batting at his chest. “Larry!”

“Ow, ow, ow, I heard! I heard!” he responded, grabbing for his wife’s hands to stop her from attacking him out of joy.

Emile sat back in his chair. “And Patton, I guess they’d been running late that morning, but he told me Virgil had… gotten a compliment on his hoodie…”

His eyes widened slightly as he shifted to look at Logan; Dot and Larry followed his gaze.

“Wait,” Emile said, voice full of surprise but no less joy, “was that you?”

Logan felt a strange shyness; he shrugged, replying, “I told him I liked his hoodie, yes. I didn’t realize it would have such an impact.”

“How is that even possible?” Dot added. “I mean, he’s the sweetest little thing, but I don’t think he said five words the entire time he was in my class. All he wanted to do was sit at his table all day and draw," she finished, pointing her thumb over her shoulder to the wall of art from her current and past students.

He followed Dot’s gesture to one picture in particular: two stick figures, one short and one tall, holding hands. It was surprisingly well drawn for a kindergarten art project, and although the handwriting was not as clear, he could tell that the large block letters across the page read ‘I Love You Daddy— Love, Virgil'

"Aw," Logan said, feeling himself soften at the evident care Virgil had put into the card. However, another look at the wall the drawing was stuck on revealed a significant difference in Virgil’s card: where his was clearly for his father, every single other card on the wall specifically included the words ‘Happy Mothers’ Day’.

Dot seemed to follow his train of thought just as quickly as he had it, and when he turned to her with a questioning glance she gave him a somewhat sad smile. 

“Virgil’s mother is… no longer in the picture,” Dot finished slowly. “I don’t know all the details—” 

“That’s quite alright,” Logan interjected quickly. The memory of his brief interaction with the Harts was still fresh in his mind, and now he was faced with the prospect of seeing them, seeing Patton, again. The thought filled him with— something. Something good. So he would prefer to not learn the more private details of Patton’s life through second-hand sources.

… Well. There was… one specific detail Logan was, admittedly, curious to know.

“Is there another adult figure in Virgil’s life?” he asked casually. “Patton’s girlfriend, maybe, or— or boyfriend…”

A beat, and then the other three broke into laughter.

“No, boyfriend is definitely right,” Dot eventually answered, giving Logan a knowing smile.

Logan flushed. “Ah, yes. I had… suspected, as much.”

Emile giggled. “I forgot your gaydar is permanently broken, Logan.”

“I’ve only ever had one partner before!” Logan defended, his face growing hotter.

“Same with me and Dot, but our bifi works just fine,” Larry replied smugly. Dot held out her hand and the two high fived without looking at each other.

Logan sighed, collecting his trash from his food and pushing back his chair. “You’re all bullies.”

~

Taglist:

@patton-cake, @irritating-lady-knight, @i-cant-find-a-good-username

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 6: You Know You Got Me In The Palm Of Your Hand]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Mean It by Lauv.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex and violence, slavery in American history.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​ @writerxinthedark​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​​ @some-major-ishues​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​ @loveandbeloved29​​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

What The Fuck, Washington Animals Are Weird

I woke up in a bedroom drenched in a rainbow of darkness, shades of grey vacillating from charcoal to the wings of a mourning dove; indolent dawn rain pattered against the window. There were no glaring veins of sunlight spilling in through gaps in the curtains, no promise of dry invigorating heat, no whistle of vicious parched wind. Toto, we’re not in Phoenix anymore.

“Ugh,” I complained to the empty room, unraveling from a tangle of blankets patterned with cacti and pure white clouds and rust-orange suns.

I clicked off my iPhone alarm—I’d beaten it by two minutes; my circadian rhythm was finally conceding that this whole Pacific Time thing was permanent—and read my nine new texts from Joe.

3:12 a.m.: Hey it’s an emergency what’s the plural of octopus

3:13 a.m.: Rami is insisting that it is octopuses

3:14 a.m.: But it’s octopi, right? Right?? I just announced in front of everyone that it’s octopi

3:15 a.m.: Scarlett is verbally abusing me

3:18 a.m.: Oh you are probably asleep

3:21 a.m.: Update, according to the internet Rami is right and now I have to assume a new identity and move to Antarctica

3:25 a.m.: We can discuss logistics of the Antarctica relocation tomorrow

3:26 a.m.: Hope you like penguins

3:30 a.m.: Okay goodnight!! Don’t let the mythical creatures bite!!

“That man,” I murmured to myself, smiling.

I typed out: It’s definitely octopuses, you clown. Then I deleted ‘clown’ and replaced it with its Italian equivalent: pagliaccio. Text sent.

Joe responded almost instantly. I had to ask Lucy what pagliaccio meant and now she’s verbally abusing me too. Send help. See you at lunch. xx

Wait, two Xs? What did Xs mean?? Kisses???

Did Joseph Francis Mazzello, sexy undead Italian man, just send me multiple text kisses?

“You’re gonna give me an aneurism, Chicago boy,” I muttered at my phone as I slid it into the pocket of my flannel pajama pants. And then I glanced out the bedroom window into a tussle of rain and thick, caliginous fog.

Just a few feet beyond the misted glass, its leathery talons hooked around a branch of Charlie’s decades-old red alder tree, was an owl. But not just any owl. A hulking, spotlessly white owl.

“Oh, hey, you,” I whispered, leaning closer, pressing my palms against the cold window. My hands left transparent imprints in the condensation. “Hey, buddy. Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? I sure wish I was. Did something wake you up? Did your idiot vampire boyfriend disturb you with a series of ridiculous texts?”

The owl just contemplated me with unnervingly vast, slick, engrossed eyes. And there was something else, too: those eyes were blood red.

“So you’re an albino owl, huh big guy? Good for you. You know, usually albino animals don’t last all that long in the wild. Because they’re really easy for predators and prey to spot. Or they get skin cancer. So congratulations on living to become the voluptuous, tremendously creepy creature that you are today. Job well done.”

The owl stared back at me unflinchingly, blinked, then resumed staring. Rainwater gathered in swelling beads like blood drops on its ivory-colored beak and talons.

“Well,” I noted, turning away and grabbing my shower towel off the back of the desk chair. “You don’t get that in Arizona.”

Thirty minutes later, I was bounding down the stairs two at a time to meet Charlie in the kitchen. He was browsing through his daily newspaper at the table, drinking coffee and nibbling messily on burnt triangles of toast. Crumbs littered his moustache.

“You didn’t tell me that living here came with the added benefit of freaky albino animal friends.”

Charlie crinkled his forehead at me. “Huh?”

“How was bowling with the dads last night?”

“Oh, awesome!” he exclaimed, folding up his newspaper and slapping it down on the table. “We bowled against the team from Mora and it came right down to the wire, but we caught them. Dr. Lee got a strike on his very last turn. He always seems to do that...he’ll be bowling hit or miss all night and then when it really matters he manages to pull a strike out of nowhere. He’s a beast.”

“He’s a pretty remarkable guy,” I agreed, rummaging through the cabinets for Pop-Tarts.

“He mentioned that you and his son were really hitting it off,” Charlie said, grinning. “Not the ragey blond one. The spindly annoying one. What’s his name again? Josh? Jimmy?”

“Joe.” I conjured up my best poker face of lofty indifference. It crumbled like a sandcastle beneath reckless, rushing footsteps.

“Ohhhh, I saw that!” Charlie said, pointing, delighted. “Check out that smile. My gorgeous, brilliant progeny has a crush. I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be single for long up here. Alright, I’m ready. Bring on the grandchildren.”

“Shut up,” I pleaded good-naturedly.

“Relax, I have great news. According to Gwil, that Joe kid is pretty wild about you too.”

“Oh, is that what you old guys do between bowling turns? Betray your children’s deepest confidences? Matchmake them over nachos and chili cheese dogs?” Still, my curiosity was piqued. “What else did Dr. Lee say about Joe?”

“I think the exact word he used was...” Charlie reminisced, sipping his coffee, curls of steam pouring over the rim of the mug. “Smitten.”

Supernatural Pictionary

I turned the notebook to Joe so he could see; everyone else momentarily covered their eyes or looked away. Then Lucy started the timer on her iPhone. Thirty seconds.

“Go!” Lucy announced.

“I think it’s a boat,” Rami said, hesitantly, haltingly, squinting at Joe with great concentration.

“Do you?” Joe teased.

“Yeah. But I’m also getting something about a fish.”

“Maybe I’m trying to make you think it’s a fish because it’s actually a boat,” Joe replied flippantly.

Rami muttered: “Or you want me to think it’s a boat because it’s actually a fish.”

“Interesting.”

“Now you’re mentally singing Never Gonna Give You Up just to fuck with me.”

Joe gasped, pressing a palm to his chest. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do!”

Scarlett snickered, dunking her chicken tender in honey mustard, slurping Coke through a straw clenched between crimson-painted lips. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“Fifteen seconds,” Lucy warned.

“Fish or boat, boat or fish...” Rami chanted, peering fixedly at Joe.

“Make a decision,” I taunted, hugging the notebook to my chest.

“I’m going with boat,” Rami decided.

“Final answer?” Lucy asked, then stopped the timer when Rami nodded.

“Loser!” Joe cackled victoriously, leaping out of his chair, waving his L-shaped fingers in the air. Calawah University students at nearby tables glanced over with wide, startled eyes, their beloved chicken tenders briefly forgotten. “How’s it feel to not win every round of a game, huh?! Loser!”

I flipped my notebook so Rami could see the extremely unskilled pencil sketch I’d drawn there: a smiling fish. “My condolences.”

“Damn.” Rami pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it across the table to Joe. Joe snatched it up, tucked it into the waistline of his jeans like a stripper collecting money in her G-string, and slung his arm around my shoulders.

“We are the champions. Bask in our glory.”

Scarlett turned on her iPhone flashlight and waved it in slow arcs over her head. “Youuuuu are the champions, my friendssssss...”

From my usual lunch table, Jessica gazed at my esteemed place among the Lees with palpable envy, resting her chin in her hands. I had worked out a schedule that seemed fairly obvious given my extensive experience as a child of divorce: lunch with Jessica et al. one day, lunch with the Lees the next. I took a bite of the Chipotle veggie bowl that Joe had insisted on ordering for me and tossed Jessica a sympathetic wave. Get Ben’s Snapchat for me! she mouthed back. I harbored serious doubts that Benjamin August Hardy, former professional assassin, born in 1893, had a Snapchat.

Joe’s words from last week rolled around in my head; I could see him all over again, nodding to the enormous painting hung in Gwil’s upstairs office, telling me about those startling, ethereal figures who had initiated Ben into life as a vampire. They call themselves the Draghi. They collect dues from covens, offer protection, keep order, protect our secrets. But they also demand loyalty. They force people they want into service. They might try to make it seem like you have a choice, but you don’t. They destroy anyone who tries to resist them. And they feed on humans.

“This is so awesome,” Lucy sighed, elated. “We could never play Pictionary before, drawing something is way too much of a mental process, Rami always figured it out right away...”

But now they had a built-in blindfold, someone who could draw without Rami getting a peek into their thoughts, a fighting chance at hiding the truth from him...for thirty seconds, at least.

“Okay Benny Boy, you’re up.” Joe darted over to Ben’s side of the table and massaged his tense, muscular shoulders as Ben grimaced. “You got this. I believe in you. Baby Swan is gonna pitch you a home run.”

“I’ll pass,” Ben said.

“You can’t!” Lucy cried. “Ben, please? Rami got Scarlett’s, and then he didn’t get Joe’s...and I know he’s going to see though me immediately. You’re our only chance to tie things up and maybe beat him!”

“Traitor,” Rami told Lucy affectionately.

“Uhh...” Ben hesitated, glimpsing longingly at the doors that led outside to the grove of bigleaf maple trees. He was fidgeting restlessly with his vape pen.

“Come on, Benny!” Joe begged. “I’ll owe you. I’ll do anything.”

Ben perked up a little bit. “You’ll do my Calc 2 homework for a month?”

Joe groaned theatrically, but nodded. He was wearing a grey U Chicago hoodie today. “Fine. Okay. But you’re gonna have to learn that shit eventually, I can’t take the MCAT for you.”

“Deal.” Ben bumped his knuckles against Joe’s.

“Batter up,” Joe heralded in his best mock-umpire voice, grinning at me expectantly, drumming the table with his palms. “Go Baby Swan, go! What will she choose? Will she continue with the nautical theme? Will she change it up, maybe switch to beloved Chicago landmarks? Baseball or food? Will she invent a variety of pizza even more despicable than pineapple?”

“Hm.” I flipped to a fresh notebook page, scratched my temple with the eraser end of the pencil, then quickly sketched a picture for Ben. “Okay, I’m ready.” I showed the drawing to Ben while everyone else covered their eyes.

Ben shook his head, scowling. “You’ll have to try again. I have no idea what that is.”

“Really?!” I checked the picture again. Okay, it definitely didn’t belong in the Louvre or anything, but it was lifelike enough to be decipherable. “You don’t recognize it? At all?”

“No,” Ben replied flatly.

From behind his shielded eyes, Rami scanned through the images in Ben’s mind. He dropped his hands onto the table. “SpongeBob?!”

“Who...?” Ben ventured.

Everyone else looked too. “Oh yeah, that’s definitely SpongeBob,” Joe said, then chuckled. “Aww, Baby Swan, you even remembered his little necktie!”

“It’s so cute!” Lucy trilled.

Ben just stared at the picture, blinking, completely lost, increasingly morose. And now there was a new guest at the table; or maybe not a new one, maybe just a quiet one, something that perched on the ledge of every conversation and field of vision just waiting to tap its claws against the wall and make its presence known: that interminable reminder of Ben’s unconventional past life, of how incomparable his vampiric upbringing was to those of the rest of the Lee kids.

“Benny Boy, you’ve never seen SpongeBob?” Joe inquired gently. “No problem. We’ll have a marathon tonight. I have the entire series on DVD. Also several Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy action figures.”

Scarlett snorted. “This is why you’ve been single since Hoover was president.”

“I wasn’t single the whole time,” Joe corrected.

“Oh, really?” Not that I’m interested, my voice suggested. I was a total liar. I was super interested. Thank the great deity that Rami and Ben couldn’t read me like a restaurant menu. Today’s specials are Being In Love With Someone Wildly Inappropriate for $15.99, and also Lamenting My Own Lack Of Sexual Experience for $11.99. Oh, and clam chowder.

“He had a couple of...what would you call them?” Scarlett combed her elegant fingers through her voluminous blonde hair. “What’s the modern vernacular? Fuck buddies? Booty calls? Netflix and chill partners?”

My stomach lurched; I nonchalantly buried my fork in a mountain of guacamole and left it there. I kept my lips turned up into a smile like a mask. Of course he’s loved other people. Duh. He’s hot and immortal. Get over it. But that didn’t calm my pounding heartbeat at all, didn’t soothe that sudden and irrational melancholy.

“Whoa whoa whoa, okay, you’re making it sound way worse than it was,” Joe protested, glancing at me nervously.

Scarlett continued: “It wasn’t serious, whatever it was. None of them would have cared about your action figure collection or obsession with a city you haven’t lived in for fifty years. It wasn’t your personality they wanted. Thank god.”

Oh this is bad, I thought helplessly. How am I ever going to be able to compete with the memory of countless gorgeous vampire girlfriends?

“Uh, ScarJo, you’re single too.” And Joe’s nickname for her was strangely apt; Scarlett could pass for Scarlett Johansson’s younger, blonder, much hotter sister. And Scarlett Johansson, in case you’re somehow unaware, is already pretty fucking hot.

Scarlett flashed a grin. “Entirely by choice.”

“And much to Mercy’s eternal and profound concern,” Lucy told me. “She stages an intervention at least twice a month. Did I overhear one last week, Scarlett?”

“Oh jesus, yeah. I was like, ‘Mom, what the hell do I need a husband for? I have my own money. I can fix household appliances. I have a vibrator. I’m good to go.’”

Joe rocked back in his chair, howling. “You did not tell Mom that!”

“I did. She was so distraught. She just kind of pinched her eyes shut and shuddered and then went out back to feed the alpacas.”

“Scarlett, babe,” Rami managed between gales of laughter. “A vibrator isn’t going to keep you company for all of eternity. It’s not a suitable substitute for a life partner.”

“You’re right. It’s even better. It’ll never abandon or disappoint me. Assuming I keep the batteries fresh, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Lucy giggled into her hands.

“She’s not wrong,” I said, shrugging, sipping my Diet Coke.  

And Joe peered over at me, surprised, intrigued, slowly raising his thin dark eyebrows. I winked back. Yeah, okay, I’ve never slept with someone. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had an orgasm.

“Ah, loud thoughts! Loud thoughts! Joe, please!” Rami moaned, pressing his balled fists to his forehead.

Ben smirked. “There’s a color I’ve never seen from you before, Joe.”

“This family is the worst!” Joe exploded.

“I like that girl,” Scarlett decided, signaling to me with glossy maroon fingernails. “She can stay.”

Joe sighed, flustered, then shook it off as he turned to me. “You coming over tonight?”

“I can’t spend every night at your house petting alpacas, mob guy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling, draping his arm around the back of my chair. “Why not?”

“Well, my tonight-specific reason is that I’m visiting a friend.”

“Cool. Your friends are my friends. Can I visit too?”

“You’re aware that you’re a legit stalker, right?” But actually, Archer was dying to meet Joe: the loud Lee, the approachable Lee, the Lee who I definitely liked more than a Tinder swipe could ever convey. This could work. “Offer to buy dinner and you can come.”

“I’m a walking Visa, baby.”

Ben stood, hauled on his backpack, gathered up his trash to throw away. “I need a smoke break before Chem. See you guys later.”

“Don’t forget!” Joe called after him. “SpongeBob marathon starts at 8! I’ll bring the Milk Duds!”

And when Ben disappeared through the doors, a solemn hush descended over the table.

“Poor guy,” Lucy said softly. The other Lees nodded.

And again, I recalled what Joe had told me in Gwil’s office, what he had said when I asked how Ben came to join the Lee family. He was assigned to us, to be the liaison to our coven. And Gwil saw something in him. Potential, suffering, unrealized decency, I don’t know. But Gwil worked on him for years, trying to convince Ben to leave the Draghi when his contract was up and come live with us. To give a peaceful life a try. And to be honest, Ben never seemed interested. But something must have resonated with him, because we opened the front door on October 15th, 2016 and he was sitting on the steps of our porch with a single suitcase, puffing on that fucking vape pen and watching the storm clouds roll in off the Pacific Ocean.

But why would they just let him leave? I had asked, tracing my fingertips over the uncanny and magnificent faces in that painting. Why would they let him live?

Because they know how valuable he is. And because they think they can get him back.

���I think he’s a good person,” I said, breaking the silence. “You know. Underneath the whole being raised to be a killing machine thing.”

“Yeah,” Rami replied, frowning thoughtfully. “Just try not to spend too much time alone with him.”

Car Jacks And Sneak Attacks

“Joe, this is Archer James Foxchild, my first-ever best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Joe said, shaking Archer’s oil-stained hand. “I understand you are really good at making mud pies and poking dead animals with sticks.”

Archer chuckled. “It’s true. We found a shark tooth down at La Push one time and I convinced Baby Swan here that it was from a sea monster. She had nightmares for months. Charlie called my dad over it and I got my Game Boy taken away.”

“No!” Joe gasped in horror. “Were you a Pokémon guy?”

“For sure.”

“Ruby or Sapphire?”

“Emerald.”

Joe grinned. “This dude knows what’s up.”

“And to think, my grandpa tried to tell me that you guys were freaks,” Archer replied.

“Well,” Joe conceded. “Not all of us.”  

“Maybe you two should start dating,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit in my Honda and eat my Taco Bell cheese quesadillas and Cinnamon Twists and try not to interrupt all the sex.”

“Yes, you brought Taco Bell,” Archer sighed euphorically. “Give me five minutes, I just gotta finish rotating these tires real quick.” He jogged to the other end of the garage, knelt beside a Ford Mustang that was propped up on a jack, and starting twisting off lug nuts with a tire iron.

“You have a nice place here,” Joe observed, strolling around the small garage with his hands in the front pocket of his U Chicago hoodie, eyeing the fractures in the concrete floor and the spidering cracks in the windows. “You have any investors?”

“Are you kidding?!” Archer replied from the Mustang. “No, man, it’s just me. I rent for now, but at some point I’ll buy my own shop. Once I’ve saved up enough. A great big one with shiny new equipment and no mice squeaking behind the walls.”

“What’s your cash flow like?”

“I’m netting around three grand a month after taxes.”

“Not bad!” Joe noted admiringly.

“Yeah. It’s a hustle, but I love it.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you’d be interested—and absolutely no pressure if you’re not, really—but I do a lot of work with start-ups and I’d love to help you get into your own shop. By this Christmas, preferably. If we can work out a deal.”

“Really?!” Archer peeked incredulously over the hood of the Mustang.

“Absolutely.”

Archer beamed at me. “This guy is willing to drop serious cash to look good in front of you. You should probably marry him. No prenup though.”

I held my pinky out towards Joe, grinning. “No more sad prenups.”

He laughed and hooked my pinky with his. “Bankrupt me, bitch.”

I heard the metallic clang of a lug nut hitting the concrete floor and rolling under the Mustang. “Come back here, you bastard,” Archer muttered, then dropped to his stomach and crawled beneath the car.

“Hey, kid, be careful,” I fretted, crossing my arms across my chest and taking a step closer.

“Relax, Baby Swan, I am a professional, changing a tire for me is like feeding a fish for you, so just chill and keep fantasizing about those Cinnamon Twists—”

There was a squeal of metal as the car jack collapsed and the Mustang came crashing down. In a fraction of a second—faster than I could see him moving, faster than I could loose a scream—Joe had soared across the garage, yanked Archer out from beneath the falling Mustang, and dragged him to the center of the room.

“Oh fuck,” Archer wheezed, his dark eyes huge and fascinated and horrified. “Grandpa was right.”

I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

We rolled up to the Lee house in my 1999 Honda Accord just as I polished off the last of my Cinnamon Twists and Archer chewed, tentatively and dazedly, on a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The sun was beginning to set in a clouded sky that perpetually threatened rain.

He asked Joe for the fifth time from the back seat: “But wait, seriously, no one is going to eat me, right? Because I’m too young to die. I haven’t taken enough vacations yet. I can’t die without seeing Hawaii. I want to swim with the sea turtles.”

“No, none of us have ever eaten people. Well, almost none of us. Maybe stay away from Ben.”

“I would like a little more exposition,” Archer replied, blanching.

“Hey, if you stay until 8, you guys can join us for the SpongeBob marathon!”

Gwil and Mercy were waiting on the front porch, thanks to Joe’s ‘hey I accidentally exposed myself as a paranormal being and now we have a new friend, plz don’t be mad okay love you see you soon!1!!’ text.

“Welcome, sweetheart!” Mercy fussed, enfolding Archer into her arms as soon as he stepped out of the Honda. “Would you like some hummingbird cake? I just baked it this morning. And maybe some sweet tea too. And some peanut butter cookies. And banana pudding.”

“Sure,” he responded, bewildered. This lady does not seem like a bloodsucking demon, that voice said. And he was absolutely right.

“I’ll fix you up a tray,” Mercy promised, and hurried into the house.

“We’re so very happy to have you, Mr. Foxchild.” Gwil shook Archer’s hand firmly. “We don’t get many visitors around here. I’m sure you understand why.”

“My grandpa always insisted that there was something off about you guys. Especially you, Dr. Lee. Said you shouldn’t still be around.”

“Yes, I imagine that would have been disconcerting for him. He must have remembered us from the 1940s...that’s the last time we settled down in Forks. It’s not often that someone recognizes us after so long, but it happens. It was just Mercy and me and Rami and Joe back then. And look how far we’ve come.” Gwil beamed warmly, then turned to Joe. “But really, son, you’re going to have to stop telling humans about us.”

“Hold up, I was not responsible for her!” Joe exclaimed, waving at me. “Take it up with Ben!”

The garage door rumbled open and Scarlett sauntered out, wiping her filthy hands with a rag. She halted abruptly, stood there in her high-waisted vintage jeans and black crop top and bare feet with maroon-colored toenails, tilted her head and pondered Archer with an innocent sort of curiosity that I hadn’t seen from her before.

“Wait,” Archer said, gaping. “Is that...is that an Aston Martin Vantage in there?!”

“You bet,” Scarlett replied. “You want to learn how to work on it?”

“Uh, hell to the yeah!” He trotted over and they vanished into the garage together.

“Huh,” Joe muttered, watching them. “She was nice to him. Very weird.” He whirled back to me. “Anyway, come on. I promised you an education in classic rock music. And I shall deliver.”

Joe’s bedroom was a chaotic jumble of economics textbooks and Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and U Chicago apparel and action figures and comic books and classic rock posters. There was a massive Italian flag tacked to the wall above his bed. But what caught my attention immediately was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ben lurking in the corner by a bookshelf full of cassette tapes.

“How is there any possible logical explanation for that?” I asked, pointing.

“Oh, that! That was a joke. When Ben first showed up, he pretty much lived in his room and never came out. Gwil was worried. Mercy was heartbroken. So I made a cardboard cutout of him and would bring it to family activities and do this really deep and seductive Ben voice when I pretended to have conversations with him. It gave the whole situation some levity...and I think Ben secretly liked that we missed him enough to make an artificial version to fill the void.”

“So this bitchy, brooding, blood-craving Ben I met is actually a drastic improvement?”

“Oh, Baby Swan,” Joe confided, almost sadly. “You have no idea what he was like four years ago.”

“I’m glad he has you. All of you. That he has a chance to get better.”

“I think you might be good for him too. Seeing a human as a real person instead of a walking, talking Hi-C juice box. And you care about him, don’t you? Despite everything.”

“Of course. It’s not his fault they taught him to be a monster.”  

Joe just looked at me for a while, and then he cradled my face with one hand and grazed a thumb across my cheek “You’re never going to stop saying things that knock me into next week, are you?”

“Joe...” I hesitated, laying my hand over his. His skin was smooth and yielding yet strong, cool yet not unnaturally so. Refreshing. Safe. Fan-fucking-tastic. Oh noooooo. “Are we a thing?”

“Why? Do you want to be a thing?”

“Oh, uh, no, I was just wondering if we were.”

He stepped away, teasing me with a crooked smirk. “...So you don’t want to be a thing?”

“What would that entail?”

“Well...we’d be an official thing, you and me.” He shot finger guns at me, and then towards himself. “Which means you can’t be a thing with anyone else. And neither can I.”

“Ahhh, I see. So this thing is an exclusive thing.”

“Will you shut up and just admit that you’d totally be thrilled to be a thing with me?”

“Fine. Whatever. We’re a thing.”

“Nice.” He high-fived me.

“This is the most romantic moment of my life.”

“But wait, there’s more.” He went to the bookshelf, browsed through his cassette tape collection, found the one he wanted and popped it into a boombox that was probably older than I was. The frantic opening piano notes of I’d Do Anything For Love poured out.

“Meat Loaf,” I said in disbelief. “Really. This is the product of your superior taste in music. This is the culmination of over a century of musical experience. Meat Loaf.”

“The man is a genius!”

“This is all an elaborate joke about my vegetarianism, isn’t it?”

“No,” Joe mused. “But now that you mention it, I have yet another reason to force you to appreciate this song.” He took my hand in his, spun me around like a ballerina in a slow and careful circle, sang along—with extreme and dramatic enthusiasm—to the music.

“And I would do anything for love

I'd run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I'd never lie to you and that's a fact...”

“I don’t dance,” I cautioned him, laying a palm against his chest to catch my balance. That brisk, comforting scent of pine and snow and peppermint was everywhere. It feels like I can’t stand to be away from him. Like I’ll never get close enough. “I am terribly uncoordinated. I will step all over your feet. And I’m really not sure if I can trust you. You didn’t even know the plural form of octopus until like eighteen hours ago. You’re kind of a disaster. A, you know, uh, unexpectedly charming, unconventionally super cute, kind of bizarrely enchanting disaster.”

“Yeah,” Joe whispered, smiling, tilting up my chin, leaning in to kiss me. “I like you too.”

Cato

He came out of the oak trees like a ghost, pushing aside massive chandeliers of Spanish moss that blotted out the dusk sun, his expensive shoes sloshing in the marshy water that flooded the rice field. He was wearing a full suit, but no top hat; his hair was black and chin-length and wild around his face. And at first I thought he was a hallucination, a dream conjured by heat sickness or those first dreaded signs of malaria. He was unnervingly, uncommonly beautiful; beautiful like a hurricane, beautiful like lightning or an eclipse. But he was real. I straightened up as I watched him approach, my back aching in protest, a basket full of seedlings slung over my shoulder.

“Mr. Cato.”

His voice, clear and beckoning and twisted by an accent I’d never heard before, rang in my skull like church bells. He called me mister. This white man called me mister.

“Yes sir?” And I almost added: You want to be careful there, sir. The water moccasins like to hide among the tree roots, especially when the sun starts going down. But I had an inexplicable feeling that this man wasn’t afraid of things like snakes. Maybe the snakes should be afraid of him.

“Mr. Cato,” he said again, this time to himself, very quietly, tasting it.

I kept trying to look away, to disentangle my gaze from him like a hook out of a sturgeon’s mouth, because staring piercingly and astonished at a white man like that in the rice swamps of South Carolina in 1851 could get me beaten or the lash, could get my teeth pried right out of my jaw. But it didn’t seem to bother him. He grinned, hugely, all-knowingly, under prehistoric golden eyes like an alligator’s. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he was proud.

“Do you want to be free?” he asked, almost hissed, still grinning from the tree line.

What kind of question was that? Did a sandpiper want to fly? Did a coyote want dirt under its paws and flesh disappearing down its throat? But that wasn’t something you ever confessed aloud, not if you wanted your feet on the ground instead of swinging ten inches above it. But this man wasn’t a master, wasn’t an overseer. He wasn’t from the South. He didn’t carry a whip or a club to remind you of the rules of the world. He stood there tall and radiant in the shadows of the fading daylight like he was the one who wrote the rules to begin with; which meant that maybe he could change them. “Yes sir.”

“I can only take you,” the man warned. “No others. No family. No friends.”

“No trouble, sir,” I told him. “They sold my family. They hanged my friends.”

The man’s grin stretched wider under glinting eyes. His canine teeth were sharp, I realized: like a coyote’s, like a snake’s fangs. He held out his hand. “We are going to get along very well, you and I.”

I let the basket fall from my shoulder. I slogged through the mud and rows of wispy verdant rice plants to meet him in the shade of the oak trees. And there, for the first time in forever, a man with skin the color of bones looked me dead in the eye and shook my scarred hand.

“Welcome, Cato,” he whispered; and I was home.

He took my face in his cool palms, gingerly, reverently, like a lover. He touched his teeth to my throat. And every nerve ending in my body flooded with wildfire as he dragged me, screaming, into the depths of the forest.

[dal3ks]

secrets

pairing: peter parker x female reader 

word count: 2.3k

warnings: attempted rape, attempted sexual assault, cursing, crying, fluff

you let out a sigh, putting in an earbud. it was a dark, rainy night in queens. the sky was a solid blanket of black, the lights of the city reflecting in puddles as you walked down the block. you were heading home from a friend's house, as you had to work on a presentation for your spanish class. it was well past nine o'clock, but you still had enough time to make it home before curfew.

luckily, no one was out since it was a tuesday night. it made your walk home extremely peaceful, as the city usually bustled with people daily.

a hand grabbing your elbow shook you out of your trance. wildly, you turned to notice it was a tall, hooded man.

"give me your wallet now!" he barked.

shakily, you fumbled for your keychain in your pocket, terrified. you had a can of mace on you, dangling from your keychain, but you weren't sure if this man was carrying a gun or not.

with a slight dread, you remembered you left your wallet at home. what were you supposed to say? anxiety racked your brain, sending waves of adrenaline over you. what the fuck where you supposed to do?

"i-i, don't have my wallet, sir," your voice trembled with fear.

"looks like you're going to have to pay me another way then sweetheart," he crooned, yanking you towards him.

"hey!" a new voice came into your field of hearing, "leave her alone!"

you glanced up, relieved to see spider-man standing on the rooftop of a nearby building. he swung down, shooting a web at your attacker. he was thrown into the wall, confined by a large mass of sticky web. you felt the tears overflow from your face. this man was about to take advantage of you and you somehow were saved by spider-man. what were the chances of that happening?

"are you okay?" his voice was gentle. remarkably soft for such a strong individual. you immediately inferred spider-man was a lot younger than you thought.

you nodded, your hands still shaking, "yeah, i'm okay."

"i'll keep you safe until the police arrive, okay?" you felt a gloved hand place itself on your shoulder, "you're safe as long as i'm here."

spider-man didn't leave your side until the police came. he even stayed as you conferred with the police, remaining quiet throughout the entirety of the procedure. once they drove away, with your attacker, he turned back to you.

"would you like for me to walk you home?"

you nodded, "i-i'm about to miss curfew. i'll save you the trouble."

spider-man offered you his hand, "i have a quicker route. do you trust me?"

you nodded, taking his hand. god if your parents found out about what happened tonight, they would never let you out at night ever again. as long as you made curfew you would be all right.

he wrapped an arm around you, slinging a web onto a building. you became frozen with fear, as you were scared of heights. spider-man must have sensed your fear, because he wrapped his arm tightly around your waist.

"don't worry, i got you. you're safe with me."

with your directions, you got home in time for curfew. you said your goodbyes to the masked hero, and he slung off into the night, disappearing into the glittering lights of the city.

as you slept that night, the only thought on your mind was how familiar that voice was. who was spider-man? was his identity easier to crack than you thought?

******

you slid your lunch tray onto the table, already exhausted with the school day. your best friends, peter, ned, and m.j., were already chowing down on their lunch. peter and ned were in a heavy discussion about their LEGO Death Star model, while m.j. was silently sketching in her notebook.

"so i was almost raped last night," you stated, your tone solemn.

"WHAT?" ned choked on his sandwich, "what happened? are you okay?"

you nodded, picking at your salad, "yeah, I'm fine. spider-man swooped in and saved me. he even stayed with me until the police arrived, and then took me home."

peter immediately perked up at the mention of spider-man, "i'm glad you're okay. maybe you should start walking home with somebody, just to be on the safe side."

you scoffed, "peter i have been roaming the streets of queens since i was eleven. my parents raised me well. i know how to protect myself. that's why i carry mace with me. but thank you, for the suggestion. last night was just some weird encounter with some weirdo. the good thing is that i am safe and without harm."

"yeah," m.j. agreed, "we've all been running the streets since we were in middle school, peter. we all know how to protect ourselves. i think last night was just weird for (y/n)."

peter frowned, "i just care about my friend, that's all."

"hey," ned began, "i was thinking that maybe we could all hang out friday night? my mom and pops are going to be out of town for the weekend so all of you guys could stay the night."

you felt yourself smile, "that sounds fun! can i bring some snacks?"

"you know i wouldn't turn down snacks," ned laughed, "but yeah, i think i'll order some pizza for us, and we can watch trashy romantic comedies all night."

"i won't be over till later," peter mumbled.

"how late is later?" you felt yourself frown again.

"like ten," peter replied, not looking at you or any of your friends.

"weird but okay," m.j. shrugged, "just means there's more pizza for me. you're going to be missing out parker but it's cool. do whatever you gotta do for that internship or whatever."

"see you guys tomorrow night," ned flashed us a wide smile, "it should be a lot of fun."

******

"hey, shouldn't peter be here by now," m.j. glanced at the clock. it was 10:08 p.m., and still no sign of peter.

so far you, ned, and m.j. were all having tons of fun. you guys had ordered pizza, watched a movie or two, talked about your future plans, and also made another time to hang out. the only person that would complete the group was peter, and he was nowhere to be found. he wasn't answering any of his texts or calls.

ned and m.j. didn't seem too concerned, as they were just chatting happily about what to name the kitten ned was about to adopt from a shelter next week. you sighed, "i'm going to go call my parents really quick, i'll be right back."

"okay," ned nodded, "take your time."

since they were in ned's room, you slipped out of the apartment, heading towards the roof. you just wanted some peace and quiet for a second. you also wanted to call peter and make sure he was still coming. ned was dying to eat the last few pizza slices, but you guys were saving those for peter.

once you were on the roof, you noticed a figure sitting on the edge. you felt your throat tighten, and you instinctively clutched your can of mace on your keychain. you didn't want wednesday night to happen all over again. the memory frightened you too much.

"hey," your voice was firm, "who are you?"

as you approached the figure, you felt yourself soften. it was spider-man, donned in his red and blue suit. he must not have heard you, as he kept his head focused on the city skyline.

"hey!" you called again, and this time he turned.

you felt yourself stiffen. there sat peter, a cut on his lip, along with a slight black eye. suddenly, everything clicked into place. you remembered why spider-man's voice was familiar. spider-man was peter parker, one of your best friends.

"oh my god," you choked out, "peter?"

he sprang up, "listen, (y/n), i can explain everything, i promise."

"how?" you suddenly felt guarded, "how are you going to explain to me this huge fucking secret that you've been hiding from everyone?"

peter's voice was quiet, "ned and m.j., they know. they both know."

you felt tears spring up in your eyes, how could they all be hiding this big secret from you? you guys had all been friends since middle school. the four of you had been through a lot: the first year of high school, the death of peter's uncle, a couple of divorces between parents. how could they be hiding something like this from you?

"great," that was the only word that came out of your mouth, "so how was i supposed to find out? because i assume you guys were going to just keep sneaking this behind my back. you guys are some pretty crappy friends you know that? it really shows what kind of friend you are, peter."

peter flinched, as if your words were pure venom, "(y/n), i didn't just tell them. ned was at my apartment, in my room, when he found out. m.j., she was smart enough to fit all of the pieces together. i didn't tell them just because i wanted to hide it from you. i wanted to keep this part of me hid away from everyone. it's a lot safer that way. no one is targeted or harmed."

"does your aunt know?" your lip trembled, and you wiped your nose with your sleeve.

the tears were spilling over onto your cheeks. a flash of embarrassment passed through you. this was the first time in a while peter had seen you cry. you felt like you looked like a wreck.

"she found out the hard way," he stated, "she walked in on me in my suit. i had to explain everything to her. besides, she's the only family i have. of course i'm close with the avengers, and tony stark, but she's my family. she had a right to know sooner, and i felt guilty for never telling her in the beginning. hell, i felt guilt everyday because you guys didn't know. you, ned, and m.j., you guys are my best friends. you guys deserved to know, too. but i felt safer hiding the truth because if other people find out, really evil people, you all could be the first to get hurt. and i don't want that. i don't want my family hurt. i don't want my friends hurt. i don't want the girl i love, hurt."

“and who’s that,” you sniffled, “m.j.?”

"no," peter shook his head, approaching you, "the girl i love is you, (y/n). i love you."

pink spread into your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip. you had the biggest crush on peter, and you had feelings for him almost the entirety of your friendship. that's why you always cared about him so much and his disappearances. it worried you sometimes when he wasn't at school, or when he never showed up to hangout with the friend group. but now, you had an explanation to everything. and you weren't sure how to feel.

a part of you was extremely hurt that your friends hid this big secret from you. you guys told each other everything. you even talked about your previous boyfriends, sex life, etc. to them. the least they all could have done was sit you down and explain everything.

yet, a large part of you wasn't hurt. you were relieved that peter felt the same way about you. you wanted to start a relationship with him, but you were never sure how. now, was your opportunity, especially since he feels the same way.

"peter," you drew in a breath, cupping his cheek with your hand, "i love you too."

he smiled slightly, "that makes me really happy to hear."

"i'm still kind of upset about this," you admitted, your eyes locking with his.

"i understand why," he assured you, "it was wrong of me to exclude you from this part of my life. it's just all because i want to keep you safe. more than anything i want you to be safe. if something ever happened to you, god, i don't know what i would do. i would be so lost."

"you don't have to worry about losing me or anything like that," you reassured him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"something almost happened the other night," peter mumbled, "i was so relieved that i was able to stop that guy from hurting you."

"me too," you murmured, "thank you for saving me."

"you don't have to thank me for protecting you," peter chuckled, "i want to protect you regardless."

"peter!" a voice made you freeze. you both looked over to see m.j. and ned had found their way onto the roof.

"hey guys," peter waved, "how's the sleepover?"

"it's okay," m.j. shrugged, "i could tell (y/n) was going through a crisis waiting for you. she looked like a lost puppy."

"hey," your voice was indignant, "it's not my fault. i care about him a lot."

"so it comes out," ned teased you, "well how about you clean up, peter, and then we can start a movie. maybe i'll be nice and let you two share the love seat."

you four walked back to ned's apartment, peter's arm wrapped around your shoulders. once you guys were back in the apartment, he changed out of his suit. once peter was all changed and fed, you guys settled in the living room. peter let you curl up against him on the couch, and you guys cuddled all night long.

you felt safe in peter's arms, and you knew he would keep ensuring you felt safe for a very long time.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #443

“it’s not a life sentence, but a death dream for you”

When was the last time you were in the hospital? Me personally, uhhh sometime in 2017? Why were you there? I had a cyst removal surgery. Do you like Cheez-Its or Cheese Nips better? Cheez-Its. Have you worn headphones at all today? Yeah, I pretty much always do because YouTube is always open and on a video. When was the last time you had blood drawn? A few months ago or something? I'll be getting some drawn shortly though for genetic testing; due to my mom having some dysfunctional cancer prevention gene, all her children are getting tests to see if we inherited it. The last time you got blood drawn, what was the reason? I want to say I was tested for anemia most recently. What color eyes does/did your father have? Brown. What do you daydream most about? Things I wish I didn't daydream about. What is your relation to the last child you spoke to? They're my niece and nephew. Do you believe the Holocaust happened? No fucking shit? Do you prefer zebra stripes, tiger stripes, or leopard spots? Tiger stripes, ig. When did you last see a dog? At my nephew's b-day party a couple weeks ago. Nicole brought her dog Zeke over. Have you ever been in the mountains when the moon and stars were up? No, but omg I wish!!!!!!!!!! Do you know anyone from Canada? Yep. Has a cat ever licked you? Yeah. Roman especially loves to give kisses. Where would you most like to go in your state, etc. that you haven’t been? The Wizard of Oz park, probs. Are you scared to look at your own organs on x-ray or ultrasound? No, that shit's rad. o: Have you ever walked on a frozen lake/river? No, that sketches me out. I'd be afraid of the ice breaking and me falling in. Have you ever seen a volcano? No. Have you ever met an Alaskan? Met in-person, no. But I do have an online friend who's from Alaska. Or may still live there? Idk. Have you ever mowed the lawn (even a little bit)? No. Have any unpleasant public transit stories to tell? Nah. Do you know any German words? Seeing as I took four semesters of the language in high school, I know a good deal. However, my skill has definitely atrophied with time and lack of application. Do you have a passport? No. Are your teeth straight? I mean, mostly. I had braces for too long, but I didn't wear my retainer, so they've moved back some. Would you mind dating someone significantly shorter than you? Yeah, sure. I've never understood why height is an issue for some people. Can you quote the movie Mean Girls? No. I personally never got the craze. Have you ever swam in the Atlantic Ocean? I have. The Pacific? No. Can you make yourself cry? No. Have you ever held a starfish? Not a live one. What would you do if you found out your ex was pregnant/fathered a child? Faint or vomit. Wail. All three. Are you very close to your siblings? No. :/ Can you do CPR? No. Favorite sport to watch in the summer Olympics? I don't care. Ever flushed a fish? Yes. Ever been paid for sex or a sexual favor? No. I wouldn't agree to that. Last friend you talked to online? Sara. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity? No. What is the best ice cream flavor? Vanilla. You have so many topping options. What’s your favorite thing to do outside? Photograph nature, especially wild animals. What would you spend $1,000 on? A big, really pro tattoo. What was the best (non-romantic) night you’ve had? Hm. I don't know. Who did you last lay in a bed/couch/recliner with? Mom and I sat together on the couch some time ago. Do you keep a planner? No. What are you craving right now? I've got a seriously random craving for shell pasta with a nice, meaty tomato sauce. Do you want kids anytime soon? DEFINITELY not soon, but also never. Has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? No. Have you ever slept in the same bed with the last person you kissed? Yeah. What’s the best feeling in the world? Knowing you're in love and really feeling it. What’s something you really want right now, be honest. There's a lot of things. Who in your family do you act like the most? I don't know, really. Who has made the biggest sacrifice for you? My mom, 100%. Do you believe that your first true love can be your only love in life? Of course not. Have you ever kissed under water? Yes. Is there that one guy that you’ll always have feelings for no matter what? Suuuure is. Wish it wasn't like that, but I don't see it ever changing, to be real... Are you 100% over the last person you kissed? 100%? No, I can't say I am entirely. Have your parents ever caught you kissing a guy? "Caught me?" How old is this question meant for? Yes, they've seen me kiss a guy before. If you mean like, seriously kiss-kissing, no. Which one of your exes hates you the most? Probably Jason. Are you named after anyone? No. Well, my middle name has been passed down, but "Brittany" wasn't from anybody else in specific. What reminds you the most of your last relationship? The song "The Only Exception" by Paramore. Have you ever rejected someone but they still wouldn’t give up on you? In elementary school, yes. When growing up, did your family always eat at the dinner table together? Usually, yes, at least when growing up. Sometimes we'd use little tables to eat in the living room though while watching TV. What is the greatest source of happiness in your life? My mom, best friend, and pets. What was the last charity/cause you donated to? I'm unsure, actually. Who was the last person you got a handwritten letter from? Sara! :') Did your parents read bedtime stories to you when you were little? Mom did. Have any of your worst fears ever come true? Yes. The greatest fear I've ever had was losing Jason, and that happened. Is anyone in your family divorced? My parents, for one. My older half-sister has also be divorced because her ex is an absolute piece of manipulative horse shit. Has anyone in your family gotten pregnant as a teenager? I think my mom? No, maybe not... Idk. I ain't doing the math. What’s your greatest talent? If you want a serious answer and not something self-depracating, I suppose writing. Would you ever want to get a master’s degree? It'd be cool, but I've never *actually* wanted to pursue that. Have you ever worn revealing clothing in order to get attention? No. Have you ever been falsely accused of being racist? I've never been accused of being racist, because I'm not. To you, is sex just about physical pleasure, or do you see it as an expression of love and commitment? Absolutely the latter. I could never engage in sex without deep emotional commitment. How many times have you been drunk in the past 6 months? Zero. What’s your favorite French food? I have no idea. What’s the most elaborate recipe you know how to cook? Nothing. Which rooms of your house have doors that lead outside? The living room and kitchen. Best purchase you ever made? My snake. :') Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? I haven't seen him a long time, but boy did I have a thing for James Hetfield in high school. There are defs others, but no one else immediately comes to mind. Have you ever been caught sneaking out? No, because I've never tried to. How many Facebooks have you had? Just the one I still use. Have you ever been punched in the face? No. When was the last time you talked to the first person you kissed? The beginning of February, 2017. What is the latest you have ever slept in? Past 5. Do you have to watch yourself in the mirror while you brush your teeth? No. Do you text when you drive? Fuck no. You couldn't pay me to. What movie do you really want to see that’s out? I don't even know what movies are out right now. Did America really put a man on the moon? Eventually, yes. Call me crazy, but I do believe the supposed first one was faked, though, to "beat" Russia in the space race. Do some research and it's pretty shocking. Would you like to date someone a lot purer than you? Idc. Do you turn your phone off at night when you go to sleep? No, but I turn the brightness down for if I wake up in the middle of the night and want to check the time. Have you slept in a bed with the last person you kissed? Yeah. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you didn’t say it back? Yes. Has anyone ever played a prank on you? What happened? I don't believe so. Do you like tattoos and piercings? Helllll yes. :') What are you really into? Animals, art, some weird Korean guy on the Internet... Do your parents like your best friends? Yes. Have you ever taken a nap with a member of the opposite sex? Yeah. Do you have weak upper body strength? Yes. What color was the last cup you drank from? It's just clear glass. How old is your oldest sibling? I actually don't know her exact age. 30-something. What was the last thing you ate that had nuts in it? A Nature Valley cashew bar I had earlier today. How many pieces did the last puzzle you completed have? I have no idea. Who did you last shake hands with? uhhhhhhhh Has anybody asked you out on a date recently? Nah. When was the last time somebody asked you to be their girlfriend? When Girt asked me out a few years ago. Name something you’re picky about: Food. Who did you last ask for help? My mom. Do you like corn? Yeah. If you were offered to smoke some weed right now, would you accept? Right now I honestly probably would, believe it or not. Honestly, who is the last person to tell you that they love you? My mum. Have you ever made out for more than a half hour straight? Yeah. How do you earn money? The only occasions where I ever and very rarely earn money is if someone (non-family, of course) pays me to take pictures for them. Where were you raised? All you need to know is a crappy town in eastern NC. Are your ears gauged? No, but I want the first holes in my earlobes to be, but only with very small gauges. I just can't figure out how to do it myself, at least with the gauges I have. I think I'm missing something. Explain what triggered your last kiss? We were saying goodbye. Could you go a month without talking to your best friend? I mean I could, but it'd seriously fucking suck. Have you ever made out in a park? No, because I don't do that in public. What are you listening to? "Paint You With My Love" by Marilyn Manson. I wasn't big on the album when it came out, but this is one of the songs that's aight to me. Last thing you said out loud? I gave Venus a little wave and said "hey babe" or something like that like I do sometimes when she's slithering around and looks out towards me. Are you sad? Always at least a little bit. I have been kinda down this evening. Where is your dad? I would hope at home. He's probably watching TV, or maybe in bed.

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

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

Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old  friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

 It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.   

 My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough. 

  “oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.” 

 A flying toenail hit my eye. 

 “WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.  

 “Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

 “oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!” 

 “IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back. 

 I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

 I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle. 

 “All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

 “You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.” 

 “Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.” 

 I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.” 

 “Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?” 

 This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did. 

 After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t. 

 And he didn’t. 

 And therein lay the problem. 

 It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

 “Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.” 

 “Ew, he smells like meat.” 

 “RENNY!!” 

 “I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

 “He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.” 

 She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window. 

 “Hey Renny?” 

 “Hm.” 

 A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?” 

 “Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

 “Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.” 

 “Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.   

 “Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?” 

 Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first. 

 “I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.” 

 “Oh.” 

 “It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

 “The divorce or your virginity.” 

 “Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.” 

 “No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis. 

 “I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more. 

 Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?” 

 Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him. 

 “Maybeeee…?” 

 But then there was last night. 

 I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves? 

 “No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.” 

 Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.” 

 “Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this. 

 Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly. 

 But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him? 

 You were right, Harry. You are fucked. 

 I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh. 

 I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

 Renny was right.

 I needed therapy. 

 The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

 “Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?” 

 DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please. 

 I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

 “NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

 “Fine. I can keep a secret.” 

 I was getting a little too good at that lately.

 She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious. 

 “Yeah, more than you know.” 

 And I was serious, too. 

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

 I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs. 

 Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery.  . 

 “Woah did you hear that?” 

 Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.” 

 It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

 The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next. 

 A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did. 

 “It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts. 

 “How’d you know that?” 

 She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance. 

 I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick. 

 Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away. 

 My hand wavered. 

 Odd. 

 Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors. 

 I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over. 

 “Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”   

 Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

 Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

 She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster. 

 “I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

 Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

 I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.” 

 Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too. 

 “Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed. 

 We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from. 

 “Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment. 

 My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?” 

 “Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-” 

 “My God,” David proclaimed. 

 Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

 It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.” 

 “Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass. 

 Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

 “Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased. 

 He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.” 

 We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

 Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left. 

 “Look closer.” 

 My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang. 

 “Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin. 

 The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot. 

 “Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

 “Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.” 

 “How so?” 

 “Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.” 

 He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside. 

 He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles. 

 “They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said. 

 A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.” 

 “Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.” 

 “Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

 His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him. 

 I felt him come closer. 

“Listen now,” he urged. 

 I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder. 

 “Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.” 

 I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed. 

 “Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?” 

 I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous. 

 “What do you hear?” he urged. 

 “I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped. 

But right when I was about to open my eyes-  

 I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter. 

 “Birds?” I opened my eyes. 

 “Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself. 

 “Why are there birds?” 

 “We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

 Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half. 

 My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.” 

 “All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes. 

 “Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.” 

 “What do you mean?” 

 She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow. 

 I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second. 

 I was naked. 

 In all of them. 

 One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.  

 Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet. 

 The wine had dropped.

 I’d dropped it. 

 I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb. 

 “Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked. 

 I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe. 

 He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

 The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees. 

 Because that’s what it was. 

 An exposure. 

 A stranger could pay to have me in their home. 

 The floor spun, vision spotting. 

 My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly. 

 “I didn’t want this.” 

 And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home. 

part 22