#I will check asks but probably won’t answer until Wednesday or something

[squigglywindy]

Okay y’all hold me to this I’m staying away tomorrow

[bukojuiice]

— genshin boys and how you take care of them when they’re sick.

ೃ ft. childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli, and xiao x gn! reader

ೃ tags: modern au, headcanons, and tooth-rotting fluff.

ೃ 200 to 300 words per character.

ೃ genshin masterlist  ♡ mha masterlist  ♡ aot masterlist

ೃ note: if you enjoyed this, please do reblog! and if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡

CHILDE:

Childe has a very strong immunity system. No lame flu could ever get him. Mayhaps it's the below 0-degree temperature in Snezhnaya that helped his body grow accustomed to certain climates and temperatures? Because according to him, he "takes colds and kicks ass." However, after having too much fun and getting too competitive with Scaramouche at the Dragonspine Ski Resort, he's struck down with a terrible fever. From Sneznaya's Greatest Love Machine to sick babie in (y/n)'s care. He's not necessarily the whiny type but Childe is very helpless. Whether it was intentional or not, he couldn’t help himself at all. He forgets about the cough drops he has to drink and you have to remind him about it, when he refuses to eat Goulash fresh from Dragonspine and demands for alphabet soup, or when you're doing work in the living room and he comes up to you wrapped in a burrito blanket, asking for cuddles because "hugs are the best medicine." to which, you would reply with a hard "no." because you couldn't risk the both of you getting sick. (Even though you were craving hugs from him too.) Due to your boyfriend's stubbornness, it took a week before he could fully recover. And when he did, you bet he rushes to you, screaming, "I'm cured!" peppering you with kisses on your cheek and enveloping you in hugs that you've longed so much from him.

DILUC:

Colds are Diluc's worst enemy. Whenever he got remotely sick when he was a kid, whether it be a runny nose or a small allergy, his immune system literally betrays him. So, when he gets sick, he literally gets sick. Since then, He vowed to maintain a healthy body. You've never even seen him get a headache! It's always been Diluc taking care of you whenever you’re down with a cold. You had always wished for a moment where the tables would turn and it would be you taking care of him for once. That would soon happen on a particularly normal day. Diluc approaches you and asks if you could check his temperature. You bring out a thermometer to check if he has a fever, and it read 38 degrees. Diluc suddenly panics. His face red as a tomato and feeling woozy and lightheaded, your boyfriend wraps his arm around you for support as you bring him to your bedroom. Then, he suddenly sneezes. An adorable sniffle you did not expect to hear from your boyfriend or from anyone as handsome as him at all. It was the cutest "achoo." you've ever heard. You giggle, reaching for his neatly folded pajamas in the closet and handing it to him. "Pretend you didn't hear that." He says coldly, trying to not act embarrassed. Since that night and until he became well, you barely left Diluc’s side. He's wrapped in a blanket, his usual well-dressed get up is replaced with a dark gray hoodie and joggers, your stuffed plushies are cuddled up beside Diluc to keep him company whilst he's bed-ridden, and you're bringing him healthy and delicious meals to help him get better soon. When he had finally recovered, Diluc thought that maybe getting sick wasn't all that bad. Especially if the the one most dearest to him could love and care for him so well while he’s at his weakest.

KAEYA:

Kaeya tries to hide his cold at first. He doesn't want to make you worry too much. After all, he's not the type to get so sick easily anyway. T'was the cursed downpour of rain on that particular Wednesday night after his evening classes to blame for all of this. When you're around him, he clears his throat every time he has the urge to cough, He tries to sneeze as quietly as possible so you wouldn't hear, and he takes his daily medicine for colds behind your back. It wasn't til you accidentally hear his loud coughs whilst he was on his phone when you realized that he had a cold for the past few days now. You were a bit sad at first because Kaeya shouldn't have hid this from you, and yet, you quickly understood when he told you why. Since then, you've been taking care of him. He would lie on your lap as you apply a fever patch on his forehead, massaging his temples, as he coos adoringly at your gestures of affection. In fact, he loved the special treatment that he was getting from you  so much, that even if he was getting better, he still asked if you could rub his temples to ease the pain he's been feeling from his common colds. Although it is very clear that he's already free of his illness, you chose to play along with him. and so from then on, giving Kaeya a loving massage became a part of your daily routine, and he was loving every minute of it.

ZHONGLI:

As a herb and tea enthusiast, Zhongli is able to keep a healthy mind and body. Chamomile tea before the two of you go to bed and a scented humidifier wafting around your house to rid of the germs. However, after eating something he had ordered for the both of you on Postmates and not knowing there was seafood in it, his mild allergies suddenly strike him with a severe cold. Zhongli hates this feeling. He hates not being able to get up, water the plants, read his books, or stroll around the city with you. He had no physical energy to do anything. He kept your house as clean and as influenza-free as possible. Yet here was, on your shared bed, speaking in a nasally but cute voice, a glass of orange juice on the bedside table, and tuned in to the Discovery Channel because it was the closest he could get to the wonderful world around him whilst he was sick. "I miss hearing your soothing voice." You say jokingly, drying a hot towel so you can pat and place it on Zhongli's forehead. "I'm afraid I can't do anything right now, my love. I'm sorry. A-Actually... my body feels hot. I think I need to take a  shower." Wearing a bathrobe or else he'd shiver and have his condition worsen, you help your boyfriend take a hot bath by washing his hair and help dry it right after. Zhongli wasn't the type of boyfriend to ask for these kinds of things, but it was such a sweet gesture. You gingerly wash his hair, spread shampoo around his auburn streaks and small upward curls, and massaging his head in the process. He hums in delight whilst you giggle at his utters of praise, leaving him once you're done with your deed. After a relaxing bath that had probably defeated the colds that was plaguing him, Zhongli is back on his feet the next day. Unfortunately, you were the next victim of this stupid flu and now, it was Zhongli's turn to take care of you and making sure you would get the love and treatment that you had given him.

XIAO:

Calling your boyfriend stubborn when he's sick is quite an understatement. As a very productive person, Xiao always sets a certain amount of things to do as his goal for the day. Going to the skate park, hanging out with you, playing sports, or playing video games were just many of the activities he would do in a span of a day. But, when he catches a cold after staying up too late (sleep is for the weak! According to the Vigilant Yaksha as the mad lad had stayed up till 7 AM) after getting too invested in playing Resident Evil Village, he comes down with a flu that same afternoon. And so, his usual routine of going to the skate park, hanging out with you, and playing video games were soon to be replaced with lounging in the bed, taking medicine, being reprimanded by (Y/N) for moving too much, and feeling like shit because he can't do anything at all. You will literally shoot daggers when you see your boyfriend dashing around because he's supposed to be in bed, getting all the rest he can get. You were very strict with him, simply because you had to. Xiao was very careless after all. You were cooking dinner that same night when Xiao comes up to you, resting his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering, "I can go to school with you tomorrow." "Xiao... no you won't. Go to back to bed. I'll bring you the Veggie Radish Soup there." You reply harshly, paying no attention to him at all. His tsundere tendencies were showing when you deliver the soup to him and he grumbles, "Y-you don't have to take care of me like this. It was my fault as to why I got sick in the first place. I can take care of myself, you know." You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing yet loving look. "I know that. But, I'm doing this because I love you. You're my freaking boyfriend for petesake! Why would I not care for you like this!?"

ೃ taglist: @mignonextte @inlovewithadeptusxiao @duhsies @qimiie @kozu-zumi @volleybloop​

[tom-holland-parker]

Begin Again

Summary: 8 months after you broke up with Peter, you finally agree to meet up with him, but you’re still unsure if he deserves a second chance

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Warning: none

Word count: 1409

Masterlist

Notes: Wow another fanfic inspired by a Taylor swift song (did you honestly expect something different coming from me). Anyway this is Part 2 to “The Moment I Knew” which you can read here. Also shout out to @hommyy-tommy for asking if there's gonna be a part two because once they asked about it I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Side note: If you’re ever in The West Village in Manhattan I 100% recommend eating at Bus Stop Café, they have THE BEST bacon egg and cheese and don’t even get me started on their orange juice. Plus the people who work there are SUPER NICE. I pretty much spend every Saturday in the summer there and it’s really worth it.

You took a deep breath as you looked in the mirror. You couldn’t help but second guess your outfit as you adjusted your dress. “Maybe it’s too much” You shook your head, “I’ll wear sneakers instead” 

“What’s wrong with the shoes I picked out?” Wanda asked, watching as you moved back and forth from your closet to your mirror. “He hates it when I wear heels”, you shook your head again in frustration as you looked through the piles of sneakers you had, “He knows I’m clumsy so he gets scared I’m going to break my bones if I wear them” 

“Since when do you care about what he thinks?” Nat asked as you put on your black vans. You didn’t really know how to answer that question. It had been 8 months since you even talked to Peter. You ignored him for the rest of the school year and spent the summer vacationing through Europe so you didn’t have to see his face. You both ended up at the same college but lucky enough you had different majors and hardly ever saw each other. When you received that phone call last week you nearly threw your phone out the window. You couldn’t stop repeating that conversation in your head. 

“Don’t hang up” He said as soon as you picked up. You took a deep breath, “What do you want?” 

He sighed in relief, “I know you probably hate me right now but-” he paused trying to find the right words. You paced back and forth in your room trying to relieve the sudden anxiety that had built up inside you. “I wanna see you, I wanna try and explain, maybe make things better between us” 

You remained silent trying to process what he was saying. “Hello?” he asked, disappointment filled his voice. “I’m still here” you whispered, “Fine, next Wednesday, Bus Stop Café, how’s 5?”

“Yeah 5 is great” You could practically hear his smile through the phone, “I’ll see you then, bye” 

“I don’t know Nat” You sat on your bed, rubbing your temples in hope that it’ll relieve the headache forming in your head, “I just thought if I didn’t see his face, the problem would go away” You felt Wanda rub your back as you pulled you in for a hug, “Sweetie, sometimes you just need to face things head on”

You sighed, “I don’t think I can do this” 

“You got this kid” Nat said as she crouched down in front of you, patting your leg, “On the plus side you can always kick his ass and he won’t stop you”. You chuckled as you checked your phone for the time, 4:20, “I need to be in leave now if I'm going to make it to Manhattan on time”

///

You’d always been the type of person to take everything as a sign, maybe that’s why you became extra nervous when you noticed the rain outside. Maybe it was the universe telling you this was a bad idea. Happy dropped you off earlier than you expected but you didn’t mind, it gave you time to prepare for what you were going to say. “I’ll call you when we’re finished” You waved goodbye as you walked into the warm café. 

“Still using Happy?” You jumped when you heard Peter’s voice coming from the table next to you. You stared at him for a second, the fact that he was early took you by surprise. If you were being honest you expected him to be late. He stood up, pulling out the chair for you as you walked towards him. “If I didn’t he’d be out of a job” You smiled awkwardly as you sat down, “besides getting my own car would require me being able to pass a drivers test”

“Well you always were the bad driver”, Peter smiled as he sat down, his fingers fiddling with the straws, “I ordered your usual. I hope that’s okay”

You nodded your head looking around the room. You weren’t sure why you had chosen here, it was the place you and Peter had your first date. Maybe after talking to him for the first time in a while your brain subconsciously chose the place where you first fell in love with him. Funny enough it was in the same booth.

“So how’s school?” You asked, ignoring the thick tension that was growing between the both of you. “Oh schools great, engineering is kicking my ass but it’s fun, How are design classes?”

You shrugged wondering how he knew what classes you were taking, “They’re good I hate my professor but it is what it is”

“Alright we got one large plate of fries, one bacon egg and cheese with extra ketchup, one grilled cheese with avocado and tomato” the short waiter places the plates on the table, “and two large cups of freshly squeezed orange juice. Let me know if you guys need anything else"

"Thank you" you both said as the waiter walked away. You sipped on your drink as awkward silence filled the room. The fact that you were the only ones at the café didn't help. Maybe you should've chosen another day, at least then you'd have some background noise to distract you.

"So how was your Christmas?" Peter asked as he took a bite out of his sandwich. "It was fun. Finally convinced dad to buy everyone matching pajamas" you chuckled, remembering how annoyed your father was at your constant begging. "And you? Did May force you to watch love actually again?"

He rolled his eyes, "yes and it's still as boring as I remember". You laughed, "I could say the same about star wars"

He gasped sarcastically, "I see you still have terrible taste in movies"

"I'm just saying" you smiled, "all those movies and not one of them are good". He rolled his eyes, "you haven’t even seen all of them"

"That's because I've seen enough bad ones to know there isn't a good one" You laughed, watching as he rolled his eyes. You always loved to annoy him with your, in his words, terrible opinions. 

He smiled reaching across the table to grab your hand, “I missed your laugh”. You pulled away, looking down at your sandwich, not sure how to respond to him. Peter took a deep breath watching as you stuffed your mouth to avoid the conversation, “Look I’m sorry if I could go back and change it all I would”

“But you can’t” Your foot tapped on the ground nervously. He let out a heavy sigh, “I called you because I wanted a chance to explain myself”

“Well-” you sipped your juice, “Explain” 

“I let everything take over my life, The suit, the responsibilities. I was blinded by everything that I forgot the important people in life and I didn’t realize how much I was pushing everyone away until I lost the person who meant the most to me. Those 8 months were hell for me because i didn’t have you” 

“For months I thought you didn’t love me anymore”, You bit your lip, looking down to avoid eye contact. “No it’s not like that” Peter reached for you hand again, “I loved you, I still love you” 

You looked up, watching as his face turned pink with embarrassment. “Peter-” Your voice was barely above a whisper, “I can’t do this”. You stood up quickly, leaving 20 dollars on the table before rushing out the café. 

“y/n wait” Peter shouted chasing after you, “Just let me make it up to you”. You shook your head not bothering to look back at him. It wasn’t hard for him to catch up to you, you cursed yourself for being a slow runner. He grabbed your elbow gently pulling you to face him.

“Just give me a second chance” he said with pleading eyes. You stared at him for a second debating what to do. If you were being honest with yourself, having Peter back in your life was something you really wanted but you just had a hard time admitting it. You let out a deep breath as you rolled your eyes, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Don't think because we’re back together that I’m not mad at you” You whispered as you pulled away, “You still have to make it up to me”. 

He smiled giving you another kiss, “I think I can handle that” 

[sour--disposition]

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts

-

harry x fem!reader

-

Request: OOoO what if you do one where reader similar to Harry and is friends with talia and the other girls, but has never met the sidemen yet and gets invited to do a drinking video with them and they don’t know that reader can hold her liquor and Harry is at awe watching her smash the drinks and pins after her

please check my masterlist to see if requests are open

“Hey, are you busy on Thursday? Simon wants to know if you’ll be in a moresidemen video”, Talia asked as soon as you picked up the phone.

“Well, hello to you, too”, you laughed into the phone. “Yeah, I’ll just make sure I get my editing done by Wednesday night. Let Si know I’ll be there with you. What are we doing?”, you asked her.

“I think he wants us to do a say it or shot it. They wanted to do a lie detector but they couldn't find anyone to administer it or lend out the equipment”, she said.

“Yeah, sounds good”, you replied. “Just make sure someone tells me when and where, yeah?”.

It was Sunday evening, which meant you had 3 full days to film and edit a video that you were happy to put out. Being a a fast-growing youtuber, you tried to stick to a consistent schedule when you could. Along with streaming most nights, staying on top of your content kept you pretty busy.

“So, if I film tomorrow, I’ve got tomorrow night, Tuesday and Wednesday to edit. Need Wednesday night free for a shower to be ready for Thursday. There’s the stream with Talia tomorrow night and hopefully Gee on Tuesday. If I clear Wednesday night out... Okay. Seems good!”, you mumbled to yourself as you tried to make a game plan for the next two weeks.

Talia: youtube studio space, be there for 11am xx

Me: so im getting peppered mid-day or spilling all my secrets to like 5 million subs? lavely xx

Talia: shut up its bc you love me xx

Knowing you’d set yourself a schedule from tomorrow onwards, you set about enjoying your night. You had a bath, ordered your favourite take away and sat and watched your favourite show. The next few days were going to consist of hard work if you wanted to keep on top of streaming and getting a post-worthy video up by the end of the week.

-

By Thursday morning, you had a video you were proud to post, a few more hours of streams logged and were ready to face the moresidemen shoot in all its glory. You met Talia outside the Youtube studio space with a few minutes to spare before the guys were expecting you in there.

“You’ve not met Harry, have you?”, Talia asked as she pulled the door open for you.

“Thanks”, you smiled. “No, I think I might have been in an Among Us video with you lot that he was in, but other than that, no”, you confirmed, holding the next door for the two of you to go through.

“You can’t hide that blush from me by opening a door, Y/N”, Talia grinned, poking at your side.

“Oh, shush. Just because he’s cute...”, you trailed off, walking into large room. Immediately, you and Talia were ushered over to some of the crew, having mics strapped and clipped to you.

“Hey”, Simon said to the two of you as you finished being fitted with your mics. “Thanks for doing this”.

You were both pointed over to a table with assorted bottles on it, two Krox shot glasses and three chairs around it. There were a handful of chairs to one side of the space, a few of the guys already sitting down. “So I’m gonna ask the first questions and then the guys are probably gonna pitch in a few once those are done with”, Simon told you.

You and Talia both made noises of agreement, walking over to the chairs and sitting down. Simon started with his intro to the video, explaining what was going on and who you were. “Okay so, you either answer the question or you take a shot of your choice out of what we’ve got in front of you. We’ve got questions from instagram and twitter, and then our lovely audience are going to be able to ask questions themselves. Are we ready?”.

The questions started relatively tame, most of them were about your friendship with Talia, Gee and Freya or the guys, and most of Talia’s were about her and Simon. You didn’t even think about pouring a shot until Simon had sacked off the instagram and twitter questions for not being ‘juicy’ enough.

“What’s the weirdest sex story Y/N has told you?”, JJ asked Talia. 

“I will take this shot for you if you even consider telling anyone this”, you told Talia immediately. She rolled her eyes as she grinned at you, reaching for the vodka bottle next her shot glass and untwisting the cap. “Thank you”, you sighed.

“Y/N, what’s the story that you won’t let Talia tell us?”, Ethan asked from next to JJ, the two of them breaking out into giggles as soon as you let out a huff. You reached for the closest bottle to you, pouring out a shot and throwing it back straight away.

From then on out, the questions started going downhill. The guys kept it somewhat reined in for Talia, probably out of respect for Simon and knowing how awkward it could end up being with the two of them sat right there. You, though? No ground was left untouched.

Bra size? Asked. Favourite position? Asked. How many one night stands? Asked. Have you ever faked an orgasm? Asked. Ever had an STI? Asked. There were some questions you had to drink to just so they could make it into the video. 

Talia leaned over to Simon, tipsily giggling as she whispered something into his ear.

“Y/N”, Simon stated, setting his eyes on you. “Who’s the best looking out of the Sidemen, in your opinion?”, he asked you.

“Oh, that’s easy”, you shrugged. “Harry”, you answered bluntly. It was only when Talia’s eyes widened slightly that you realised you’d actually said it out loud. You smacked a hand over your mouth quickly. “I didn’t actually mean to say that out loud”, you whispered to Talia.

The guys had broken out into a ruckus behind you, cheering Harry and shoving him around lightly, seemingly amusing Talia and Simon. You were the only one out of the three of you with your back to the boys, and you daren’t turn around now. 

Talia leaned over to you whilst the guys were still poking at Harry. “I only got Simon to ask because Harry hasn’t stopped staring at you since you started drinking”, she whispered to you, sending you a little wink.

“I - er - think it’s about there that we wrap it up”, Simon laughed sheepishly from next to you and Talia. 

You were directed over to the same people who strapped you into your mic to help you out of it. The woman finished fiddling with the microphone on your collar and got you to turn around, bringing you face to face with Harry.

“Oh, hi”, you blushed. He smiled back, seeming surprised you were speaking to him. “I wanted to apologise, I didn’t mean to just blurt that out. I clearly drank quicker than I’m used to”, you laughed awkwardly, reaching up to scratch at your neck nervously.

“Ah, no need”, Harry laughed lightly, scratching at a spot on his upper chest. “You handed the shots really well, if you ask me. Half of how many you drank would have had most of these guys on the floor, it was quite impressive”, he told you with a smile.

“Thank you, I was terrified coming in here that I was going to make a massive fool out of myself”, you admitted.

“It’s part of being on a Sidemen shoot, unfortunately”, Harry chuckled. 

You were both finally released from your microphones and wires, being told you could go on your way by the crew members. Just as you were about to leave, you heard harsh whispers behind you. Turning around, you saw JJ and Ethan both spurring Harry on to do something.

“Uh - er. Before you leave, could I get your number?”, Harry asked quietly, hand returning to the spot on his upper chest.

You smiled, walking over to him and holding out your hand for his phone. “Of course you can”, you told him, typing your information into his contacts. “I better get a text though”, you told him cheekily.

“You can count on it”, he told you, watching as you turned to Talia and linked arms with her before walking out of the studio space.

“I so totally saw that”, she told you, poking at your side with a massive grin plastered across her face.

“Just let me be happy and tipsy, Talia”.

[featherfur]

I’m going to try and make sense with this so bear with me: I think a lot of untapped angst potential in fic is the reality of Jiang Cheng being the older one now and visibly more mature because Wei Wuxian died at 20? 19? And he wasn’t exactly maturing in the ghost realm during that considering he doesn’t remember it. Now he’s definitely matured via trauma but that’s not the same thing. And now they’re 16x on the wrong wave length.

Under the read more because uh, I go into detail

Now put Jiang Cheng in the same room as Wei Wuxian and they’re both 12, atleast in the beginning. But Jiang Cheng had his previously homicidal insane brother show up right next to his nephew after insulting his mom (who’s death he inadvertently led too) so JC (for me atleast) can be forgiven a bit for not being happy and wanting to kick his ass and thinking he may still be insane because an Okay Wei Wuxian Would Not Insult Shijie or His Nephew. Especially since JC not only didn’t tell the entire world that his brother was back, left him with Jin Ling, only yelled at him a bit and scared him via dog and— (I’m going to shut up here because that isn’t my point but man I could go on). JC had a lot of issues and he yells at Wei Wuxian to the point one wants to offer him a cough drop.

But post Temple JC? Who watched him walk away sadly and knows that Wei Wuxian is no longer unstable and thinks he doesn’t want to be his brother anymore? That’s so much wonderful angst because that means Wei Wuxian will not be greeted by Jiang Cheng his Shidi anymore.

He will be met with Sect Leader Jiang who clawed his way up from nothing but a baby in his right, a stack of spreadsheets on his left and the most feral disciples around that he has to protect. This Sect Leader who doesn’t have time to go around hunting Wei Wuxian down to harass him. Sect Leader Jiang who barely even greets Wei Wuxian when he visits because he has shit to do. He has audits and taxes and those damn merchants are complaining, he has to up the wages of the seamstresses that make the robes of his sect with so many protection talismans and find a way to convince Sect Leader Ouyang to stop fine-ing the caravans that deliver the goods. He has to organize the celebrations and make sure everyone’s safe during flooding season. That’s not even counting how he has to train and monitor his disciples and night hunts and the political hellscape!

But Wei Wuxian!! He doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know everything that Jiang Cheng has been taking care of or that he’s just seriously that busy. He thinks he’s being ignored and pushed away and mocked when Jiang Cheng walks by with a quick “Master Wei” and runs off! Because how could Jiang Cheng treat him like that when Wei Wuxian is clearly trying to reconnect. Every offer of night hunting his declined unless it was planned then already and when they do get together Jiang Cheng ignores him! Why is Wei Wuxian even trying!? What’s the point of Jiang Cheng can’t stand him but why can’t he stop trying either??

Meanwhile during those hunts Jiang Cheng is trying to keep an eye on his brother, his twelve disciples, Jin Ling and his entourage, Wei Wuxian’s Lan ducklings, that random Ouyang kid who apparently imprinted on Jin Ling, figure out what they’re hunting, mentally running the math for the cost of the inns for all of them, going through each of the attending Jiang disciples’ personal likes and deciding on whether to buy their favorite snacks or something else as a ‘thank you for not dying’ as has become accidental custom, trying to figure out if it’s weird to get Jin Ling and his friends something nice (CLEARLY he has to get the Ouyang kid something, he apparently has no other friends considering how often he’s just hanging around Lotus pier whenever Jin Ling swings by), and trying to think of he has any other disciples night hunting within a 50 mile radius he should fly out to check on before he sleeps!

Clearly Wei Wuxian just doesn’t care about the Jiang sect and wants to just be annoying but Jiang Cheng is busy! Cant he see that Jiang Cheng is only available on Mondays and Tuesdays during the odd months and Wednesday through Saturday on the even? It’s very clear when Jiang Cheng has time! Why can’t his brother just respect that not everyone has the free time to do whatever the hell they want? Is he flaunting it?!? How dare he!

It’s a giant mess and it only gets worse because Jiang Cheng is diplomatic, he knows how to bow his head when he’s overpowered (though he rarely is nowadays) or when the outcome isn’t worth it. So he doesn’t want to start a fight with Lan Wangji and from there the entire Lan Sect! He’s been holding his tongue for years he can keep doing it, especially if his brother’s happiness is on the line. He can ignore Lan Wangji being rude, he can ignore the dark looks, hell if he thinks Wei Wuxian’s position is threatened at the LAN’s he’ll even play real fucking nice so that Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen won’t do anything to his brother. He did it for Yanli he’ll do it now. (Also added bonus of now Sizhui has started to warm up to him and so he has to be extra polite so his new nephew doesn’t hate him and his free nephew [Jingyi] doesn’t light a building on fire in revenge for someone looking at Hanguang-Jun wrong). He might have snapped at Hanguang-Jun when shit was going down but now Lan Xichen is in seclusion and Jiang Cheng can’t piss odd Lan Wangji no matter how much he wants to chuck a beehive at his head

But Wei Wuxian doesn’t it take it that way! He just sees his brother suddenly calling him Master Wei and won’t interact with him during meetings or before or after and he’s acting so cold towards Lan Zhan! He’s staring right through his brother in law and keeps acting like he doesn’t exist and the only time in the last month Jiang Cheng sought him out was!! To ask!! If he!! COULD HIRE WEI WUXIAN?!? NOT EVEN TO SAY HI OR CHECK ON HIM OR FINALLY ANSWER HIS LETTERS BUT TO ASK HIM TO CREATE TALISMANS FOR THEIR CLOTHES! (Of course he said yes though because hey money and it’s actually fun chatting with the seamstresses) but that’s all his shidi cares about?? What Wei Wuxian can do for him? He doesn’t care about Wei Wuxian at all! Why does Jiang Cheng keep hating him, he thought they were atleast neutral but he keeps going further and further away!!! Wei Wuxian is hurting and his little brother wants nothing to do with him!

Neither of them are IN the wrong but they’re both wrong.

It takes until someone, probably Lan Xichen or Nie Huiasang, points out that “Wei Wuxian… He’s not your shidi anymore, he’s your Sect Leader well a Sect Leader… he’s a Sect Leader to one of the biggest Sects, he’s busy it’s tax season. I wouldn’t want to interact with anyone either.”

Meanwhile Jin Ling or a random slightly more insane then the rest Jiang disciple interrupts Jiang Cheng’s lunch to go “Okay you’re making this worse on literally everyone, Wei Wuxian is clearly trying to make this work why are you being mean? He’s trying!” (Or much more polite for the disciple)

They have to meet up and actually talk things through and honestly *that* only works because Lan Xichen grabs them both by their metaphorical ears and sits them down because “I would like my brother in law, both of them, to stop crying to me because they can’t talk. So now we’re going to learn to communicate and if either of you makes this weird I WILL just start fluting my way out of it and you’ll feel bad.” (Actually he just sits them down together while and he and Jiang Cheng have to go over payments for the next batch of trades and Wei Wuxian passes out on Jiang Cheng halfway through and when he wakes up he swears to never bother him on a work day because that was the worst moment of his life and they end up repairing enough to start the trek to being brothers again

[softomi]

now accepting boyfriend applications.

based on my fic idea: you’ve just become newly single, in a drunken fit, you posted a status indicating you’re accepting applications for your next boyfriend. Oddly, three boys take you up on that; sending in their most professional resumes for the position. It seems there’s some fierce competitors. 

next up: literature

It hurt, why wouldn’t it hurt. Your boyfriend of almost two years dumped you over text message with no warning and his reason? He just wasn’t feeling it anymore, what the fuck. Well, twenty phone calls, a hundred text messages sent to him, and a pretty nasty voicemail. The moment you realized just how crazy you were being was when you began pounding on his door at almost ten at night. His neighbors poking their head out to stare, and it really smacked you in the face how stupid you were being.

So you threw caution into the wind. it’s a Wednesday night, your first class tomorrow didn’t start until noon and you’re literature teacher was more of a lecturer so she probably won’t notice if you’re hung over. If anything, you could always ask the guy next to you for the notes.

Thus, you decide to throw back shots to your heart’s desire, sitting in the middle of your tiny studio apartment, on your bed to scream and cry at the romance movie. Love is dead. You groan loudly when your neighbor knocks against the wall, trying to tell you to promptly shut the fuck up.

Halfway through the movie, your mind is already swaying. Your throat stings just momentarily and you sip your cheap wine in hope it’ll dull the shots you had taken previously. When the male protagonist kisses the beautiful female of his dreams, you promptly chug the rest of the wine in your glass. Upset at their love, you wrap your lips around the tip of the wine bottle, drinking straight from it.

“I can find someone better.” You’ve reached a different point in your post break up sadness, you were mixed with anger, sadness, and an overall feeling of I’ll find someone with a better dick.

It’s never a good decision to post on social media while drunk, but it’s a great decision right now. You were going to post a ‘newly single’ status. Just to be nice and not spam everyone, you think you’ll just post it to your private account for your five friends to see. You’ve clearly neglected that step when you press post and it uploads to your public twitter account.

The urge to hurl takes priority over the sudden notifications on your phone. Your hair disheveled as you’re trying to hold onto the toilet, hold onto your hair, and throw up at the same time. The romance film comes to an end once you’ve fully emptied your stomach. You shove all the things off your bed, food falling onto the floor, empty bottle of wine rolled under your bed, remote lost somewhere. You fall asleep despite your cell phone going off.

The alarm jolts you, it causes you to scream, your palm slapping the snooze button and you aggressively pull the wire so that it comes out of the socket. Your head is throbbing and your cell phone is ringing at the same time. Annoyed, your hand stretches along the bed trying to find your cell. When you come emptyhanded, you sit up. Your hand steading the pulsing of your brain and you spot your phone ringing and vibrating on the ground.

“What?” You spit out, not bothering to look at the contact as you try to block out the sun.

“What do you mean what?” The voice snaps at you, “You post about boyfriend applications all of a sudden, did you guys break up?”

Of course he would be the one calling you, the person who loves gossip more than you do, “Tooru, can you like shut up for a second.” Your brain is dying and he’s over here trying to get the latest dish on your love life, “He dumped me okay.”

“That asshole.” He gasps, “Do you want me to come over?”

You look at the time on your cell briefly, “No. I have class all day. If you’re free later?”

“Of course!”

The phone call ends and rather than getting ready for the class you have in an hour, you’re checking your notifications. You have about twenty missed calls from Oikawa, another thirty text messages from him, he even left a voicemail; god he must have been desperate. Facebook is bland, you spent most of your time on Instagram deleting the photos of your now ex, and rarely do you ever get Twitter notifications. Oddly, you have fifteen notifications; all coming from your public account.

haha, boyfriend applications are official open. only taking serious apps lol

“No.” You sit up.

It wasn’t your post that freaked you out, it wasn’t that somehow it ended up on your public account, no you could delete it and pretend as if no one saw it but people saw it.

Is she serious?

If she is, I’m down.

What does serious applications mean?

Three comments, five likes, and four retweets.

And three unread messages.

Your finger rushes to delete the tweet before it can be retweeted even more by random classmates. All was good now. Your finger presses onto the message icon, you’re confronted with the icons of three of your classmates.

The most recent is from Miya Atsumu, a terrible flirt in your biology class. He chose the seat next to you in lab when his friends ditched him and hoarded their own table. He spun around in his chair, shooting you a cheeky grin when you briefly looked at him.

His first sentence was, “Hey you’re cute.”

And yours was, “I have a boyfriend.”.

You skip over his message upon spotting his use of sweetheart in the preview.

The next icon is of the guy in your intro to business class, Kuroo Tetsuro. The first time you saw him was outside of the classroom, you two ended up accidentally reaching the doors at the same time. He lets you go in first and the both of you chose the seats farthest from the board, and closest to the door. Despite his bed hair that made him look like he was going to sleep the entire class, he was a rather studious guy; chill but smart, he was a business major after all.

“Did you understand anything he was saying?” You murmur to him as you grab your bag.

“Of course!” He states, “I don’t look at twitter on my laptop when he’s lecturing.” Ah, he caught you.

Your eyes briefly scan the preview, he’s saying something about a resume and you think he’s talking about the homework assignment. You’re about to click on his first when the last catches your eye.

It’s from Akaashi Keiji. On the first day of class, you were late due to waiting in line for coffee. You awkwardly opened the door to the classroom, everyone turning to stare, and you lower your head, choosing a random seat that now you’re stuck with for the rest of the semester because that’s just how college works. The professor goes over the syllabus and suddenly announces that the person sitting to your right will be your revision partner for the semester.

“Hey.” You stop him and for a brief minute you feel your heart skip a beat because he was absolutely pretty, “Sorry, I’m Y/n. Since we’re going to be partners, do you want to exchange info?”.

“Uh. Sure. I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

“I’m going to be late for my business class. Do you have twitter?” You were never a fan of giving your phone number out. Before he can answer, you’re scribbling your username onto a piece of paper, placing it on his desk before running out to catch your next class.

His message is brief: Did you get my email?

You click his message first; it must have been urgent if he messaged and emailed you. There’s nothing else to his message, his previous one dates almost a week before his current one, telling you that he finished reading the book you recommended and that he enjoyed it.

The screen is pulled up with your finger, alternating apps to your personal email. The subject of his email simply reads Application.

Curiously, you click the attachment he’s sent with no body text. Your jaw dropped, hand placed over your open mouth and a small scream emitting.

“Is he fucking serious?”

His name is displayed at the top, along with his birthday, star sign, zodiac sign, age, even the pronouns he uses. There’s a short sentence under it. I am submitting an application for the position of Boyfriend. You’re internally screaming, blinking fast hoping that this was a joke but his ‘application’ reads like a resume. It lists his education from middle school to his current, his previous jobs, his skills, and his own personal goals for the future.

Your blushing profusely, you want to pull your hair, scream, even throw your phone but you shove down the feelings that want to have you die of embarrassment. You don’t have the energy to sadly explain to him that you were drunk and weren’t serious; ugh and you’re going to have to continue seeing him for the rest of the semester.

You revert back to twitter; your heart suddenly drops when you think about Kuroo’s message. Quickly, you pull up the messages, clicking his and suddenly you want dig yourself a grave because he’s sent a link to a pdf and it’s simply titled Resume. He probably used a resume template and never changed the title.

And sure enough, it’s a fucking professional resume declaring the certain skills he has to be your boyfriend. In fact, like the professional business major he is, he includes a letter of intent; indicating his reasons of interest for the position. It details the little quirks he finds cute about you. You want to break your phone in half with how red in the face you feel.

As you exit his message, you’re slowly praying that Atsumu’s message is just a random flirty comment that he occasionally likes to throw you once in a while or perhaps you’re hoping that he fell in a ditch and you won’t have to work with him for the rest of the semester since he almost blew up the lab station last time.

Nope, it’s a link to a google document. Oddly, you click it. Your heart has sunk to the pit of the earth because when you open the document, you see his fucking name in the upper right corner indicating he’s still on the stupid document.

Fuck fuck fuck. You’re running away from the document, aggressively leaving the page but it doesn’t help that when you end up back at your twitter messages, you can see the three dots, telling you he’s typing.

Morning sweetheart hope you enjoy the app

He sends it with a flirty wink and you stare at it for five full minutes. Curiosity gets the best of you and you click back onto his link, he’s no longer on the same document and you sigh safely. For someone who’s barely passing biology, his document was rather professionally detailed. Damn, he’s on the school’s volleyball team? Weirdly the page cuts off halfway, you continue to scroll until the next title page boldly states: Bedroom skills.

It didn’t help that you were scrolling a little too fast and caught sight of an image showing off his toned upper body. There goes his professionalism.

Your phone suddenly blares low battery, your screen turns black and now your anxiety is through the roof. You jump on your bed, trying to plug in your phone and you’ve just now realized that it is thirty minutes until your first class starts and it is literature. You’re scrambling to find your laptop, you trip on the bag of chips from last night, awkwardly trying to stand as you reach for your school bag.

“Shit!” You scream. You suddenly remember letting your stupid ex-boyfriend borrow your laptop.

You fall to the floor, fingers pulling your hair as you suddenly think about the deep shit your in. First, your boyfriend dumped you, now you randomly have three guys who sent you applications to be your next boyfriend and you’re still going to have to see them for the rest of the semester if you reject them. Lastly, you’re going to have to go to your ex’s place to get your laptop after having made a scene yesterday, and your phone is dead so you can’t cry to Oikawa about the deep shit you’re in.

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Chapter 3

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of sexual assault, sex work, adult themes/situations, eventual smut

Tag List: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banan @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey   @deligxt @baekwifey @rockerbbhyun @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza

Masterlist

Class on Friday was less terrifying. You arrived earlier than you had Wednesday, and sat with Lucas as you’d promised. 

You told yourself that Baekhyun was just another one of your professors, and you needed to get your head on straight and pay attention, especially since the class was already more challenging than you’d thought. You were starting to get worried that you’d embarrass yourself by doing poorly, and you definitely didn’t want Baekhyun to think you were stupid. You knew you weren’t, but you also knew that this class wasn’t your strength. 

You noticed Baekhyun walk in and take a seat at his desk. He looked happy to see you back in his class, and this time without you trying to avoid him. You gave him a shy smile, still feeling fairly awkward around him. 

“So that party’s tonight, any chance I can still convince you to come?” You heard Lucas say next to you, flashing you a smile.

“I told you I’m not really a fan of parties, sorry.” You responded, avoiding his eyes and fidgeting with the things on your desk.

You were acutely aware of Baekhyun listening to your conversation from his desk a few feet away.

“Aw come on, even if I’m there? I promise it’ll be fun.”

Baekhyun was listening. And he felt his face harden and fists clench at the boy’s pushiness.

“I have homework, I don’t have time to go out.” You looked at him now, trying to get the point across. You just really didn’t want to go.

“But it’s the first party of the year! I promise you won’t regret it.” He continued anyway, now grabbing your hand. Baekhyun narrowed his eyes. 

Panicking slightly, you blurted out “I can’t anyway, I have work” as you pulled your hand away from his.

Baekhyun cocked up an eyebrow, wondering what’ll happen next.

“Work? Where at?”

“I’m a waitress, at a bar across town, you wouldn’t know about it.” You stammered, building on your lie.

Baekhyun quietly chuckled to himself, now obviously amused. Especially when he knew what your real job was.

“But what if you got someone to-”

“She said she didn’t wanna go, so drop it.” Baekhyun suddenly interrupted, voice calm but stern. Before you and Lucas even had time to react, he was getting up from his desk and starting the lecture, and you found yourself opening your notebook.

As the class went on you understood less and less of what Baekhyun was saying. You were quickly learning that philosophy meant reading lots of things that were old as hell, and nearly impossible to understand. Your own notes weren’t even really making sense to you and you knew you’d have to go back over them later if you really wanted to understand the material. Who knew philosophy would be such a bitch of a class.

Near the end of class, Baekhyun started handing out a short pop quiz and you felt yourself getting nervous.

When he handed you yours, he mouthed “good luck” with a smile. When you read the question you cursed yourself for having been so distracted the first few days. You had no idea what the difference between moral relativism and objectivism was anymore, nor any of the other things he’d talked about. Despite taking notes, it was just too difficult for you to make sense of the things he taught with so many other things running through your mind.

Baekhyun noticed how stressed you looked as he watched you stare down at your paper. Every time you’d start to write something, you’d stop and erase it. Time was ticking by and you didn’t have much left until he’d collect everyone’s papers.

This wasn’t like you at all. Usually you could remember things easily and ace pop quizzes without a problem, but Baekhyun was too distracting. Especially when you knew he was watching you and you knew he was waiting to see what you’d write.

Eventually you started scribbling down something incredibly vague and almost definitely incorrect, but at least it was something.

Although Baekhyun could tell you were struggling with the assignment, he still found it amusing to watch you as you tried to figure it out. He lost count of how many times you brushed your hair behind your ear, only to have it fall right back in your face again. He could almost see the gears turning in your head as you mulled over the question and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen something so cute.

When he got up to collect everyone’s quizzes you were still frantically trying to finish your paragraph. When he got to you you were almost finished. You looked up at him, silently begging for more time, and he gave you a soft smile. He went to take the papers from the rest of the students in your row first before eventually coming back to you. Yours was the last paper he took, and you cringed as you saw him start to read over it immediately as he made his way back to his desk, brows furrowed.

Once he’d collected the quizzes from the students they were free to go, making you the last one in the room with him again.

“Thank you.” You said. “For giving me more time. I promise I’m not stupid it’s just been hard for me to focus.” Baekhyun was glad you seemed comfortable enough to talk to him like this, and couldn’t fight the smile that was creeping onto his face. 

“I know” he looked at you with sincerity “you can go home” he looked over at the door “I’m not gonna make you stay again. I’m sorry for Monday. That was mean.” You could tell by the way he looked down at his desk after he finished speaking, he really was sorry.

You felt a small smile start to form on your lips.

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have freaked out so bad.”

“No, I shouldn’t have talked to you like I did. You were obviously uncomfortable, it was a dick move to make you stay.”

You giggled, pleased that he could admit he acted poorly. “It’s okay, really. I was just in shock.”

“Well it won’t happen again.” He gave you a smile so full of warmth and you couldn’t help but smile back. “Don’t forget that essay is due Wednesday night.”

“I can remember a simple due date Baekhyun. I told you I’m not dumb.” You rolled your eyes, walking towards the door.

“It’s still Mr. Byun when we’re here!” He yelled after you playfully.

“Okay Baekhyun!” You yelled back, waving as you walked out the door.

Baekhyun’s face hurt from how hard he was smiling, very much pleased by how you seemed more comfortable today. He silently patted himself on the back for it, relieved that you wouldn’t be a nervous wreck every class anymore. Your answer on the quiz hadn’t been too bad either, despite how stressed you’d looked.

Hopefully, just maybe, this meant you would start opening up to him more.

~

You spent Friday night doing homework as planned, and when Saturday morning rolled around and you started getting ready for work, you started to worry about whether or not Baekhyun would show up. You both hoped he’d show up just for the money, and dreaded the awkwardness if he did. You decided to just assume he wouldn’t show and go about the night as if he didn’t matter.

You added some last touches to your makeup, opting for something natural and glowy to go with your glittery pink outfit you’d packed for the night.

“I like the outfit tonight” Dave said, winking at you as you checked in. “New shoes?”

“No. I got these a few weeks ago.”

“Come on Candy, loosen up.”

You cringed but gave him a smile anyway, not wanting to get on your manager’s bad side.

For the first time in months you were going to have to spend a Saturday night trying to talk to random guys to sell dances, something you hated. Half of them would likely waste your time anyway, the other half would give you money but you never knew what bs they’d try to pull when getting their dance.

You stood by the bar, facing into the room looking for someone who didn’t seem too bad. Eventually a group of guys around your age came in and you sat down with them.

“So what’s your name gorgeous?” One of them asked you, already slightly drunk.

“I’m Candy” you told them, asking for their names as well. They all introduced themselves and soon went back to laughing amongst themselves, until a waitress showed up.

“Shots of patron, and two for the lady” one of them ordered, and you didn’t object. In the back of your mind you were still worried about Baekhyun showing up, and drinking would easily help you forget.

You took the shots. And then two more. Your stomach felt pleasantly warm, and you kept laughing at whatever the men around you were saying, though you didn’t really listen. You could hear your words slur together when you spoke, but the comfortable haze felt nice to you and you let yourself get lost in the feeling.

Eventually they ordered a 3rd round, at which point you were thoroughly tipsy and probably shouldn’t have had any more, but with the thought of Baekhyun still in the back of your mind, and the alcohol clouding your judgement, you swallowed down the fifth and sixth shots with little thought. Although by then you weren’t counting anymore. They went down like nothing, body already numb to the sting.

You were laughing at something someone said, mind going hazy from the liquor as everything around you began to go blurry. You tried to stand up but nearly fell, having trouble standing on your heels on your own. You sat back down, closing your eyes, and the room felt like it was spinning out of control. You vaguely heard the chatter of the men around you saying something, but before you had time to process their words everything went black.

Next thing you knew, your head was on Baekhyun’s lap and he was staring down at you.

~

Baekhyun wasn’t sure if he was going to go that night. As much as he wanted to see you, he wasn’t sure you’d want to see him there again.

As the night went on he tried to distract himself, grade some papers, watch some TV, but nothing worked. No matter what he did, you were stuck in the back of his mind. He wanted, needed to see you again. As long as he paid you, you wouldn’t be too mad to see him there, and two of you could just act like it was any other Saturday night, right? 

Not wanting to think about it too much, he got his shoes on, grabbed his wallet, and walked out the door.

When he arrived, he didn’t see you at the bar where you usually stood and waited for him. Upon looking around the main room of the club, he didn’t see you either, and his heart rate started to go up. What if you were stuck in a VIP room with some creep who was making you uncomfortable?

Baekhyun started to wander around the room to look for you. He checked every booth and could see every table, you had to be upstairs in a room. He hated to admit it to himself but even just the thought of you being up there with someone who wasn’t terrible bothered him. Thinking about you grinding on strangers at all made his stomach churn.

To calm his nerves he stood by the bar and ordered himself a drink, and not even a minute went by before there was a girl standing in front of him.

“Hey handsome, what are you doing here? You’re awful cute to be in a place like this.”

She started to touch Baekhyun’s arm and he slapped her hand away, turning around and gulping down his drink.

The girl frowned, but persisted anyway.

“So why are you here? Looking for some fun?”

“I’m looking for my friend.” He replied, eyes still scanning the room, ignoring her.

“I’m sure I can show you a good time too you know..” she stepped closer, blocking his view of the rest of the room.

Baekhyun dug in his pocket and pulled out a 50, holding it up with an annoyed look on his face.

“It’s yours if you leave.”

She took the bill, scoffing and turning around to walk away. Baekhyun faced his back towards the room and kept his eyes on the stairs, waiting for you to come down.

10 minutes went by, and then 10 more. Baekhyun couldn’t help but get more and more nervous. He knew it was pretty rare for people to spend that much time up there. He ordered himself another drink and started getting fidgety, trying to distract himself from worrying too much. 

A few more girls came up to him, but he quickly sent each one of them away.

After about 15 more minutes you finally appeared, and Baekhyun’s worst fears were realized when he saw you nearly unconscious, basically being carried down the stairs by 2 men. Immediately his mouth went dry and he felt his stomach do a flip.

You had your arm around one of the men’s shoulders, and the other had his hand on your lower back as you clumsily made your way down, nearly falling several times. You hadn’t even put your top back on, probably too wasted to notice it was missing anyway. The two men sat you down in an empty chair near the bottom of the stairs and went back to their group across the room with disgustingly smug looks on their faces. Baekhyun would’ve loved to walk right up to them and deck each of them in the face, but the last thing he needed now was to get himself kicked out while you were alone, completely incoherent, and surrounded by strange men. He cursed himself for not being able to do anything about them, but you were more important now.

He quickly made his way over to you, crouching down in front of you and grabbing your hand between his as he desperately tried to get a response from you.

“Hey, it’s me, say something.”

You could only mumble something incoherent.

“Can you open your eyes and look at me?”

You just shook your head slightly, brows furrowed.

“Fuck” Baekhyun whispered. He saw other people beginning to give him weird looks, and decided to take you to a room upstairs. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” He slung your arm around his shoulder and kept a firm grip on your waist as he got you to stand up. 

He helped your mostly limp body up the stairs, and into the room. He let go of you for a second, and immediately you fell onto the couch, hitting your head on the wall in the process. He flinched, hearing the impact.

“Shit” he heard you say and saw you rub your head where it made contact with the wall.

“Sorry.” He knew you couldn’t process his words in your drunken state, but he said it anyway.

He handed you your bra, which had been dangling off one of your arms when you came down the stairs and he helped you get it back on. He helped you out of your shoes as well and laid you down on the couch. He sat down and you put your head in his lap, curling up against him and quickly passing back out. He gently rubbed the bump on your head, and heard you hum at the feeling. He looked around to see your money bag discarded on the floor and when he picked it up to set it on the small table in the corner he noticed it was empty. Those creeps had stolen your money and left you without paying.

Baekhyun looked at his watch and took his wallet out of his pocket. 10:04pm.

He stuffed $800 dollars in your bag, and looked down at you asleep in his lap as he stroked your hair.

The whole time you slept Baekhyun couldn’t help but run his fingers along the lines of your jaw, lips, and brows. Although he hated that those guys had gotten you like this, now, peacefully asleep in his lap, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He ran his thumb across your cheek and noticed your eye twitch, and then open. As you looked up at him, he knew you were still too far gone to understand what was happening.

“What’sgoingon” you slurred, rubbing your eyes and sitting up.

“Some guys got you way too drunk, and then you hit your head.”

“Ohhhh” you sighed absentmindedly, not really having heard or understood what Baekhyun said.

“Come here, you’re still drunk.”

You seemed to listen, laying your head back in his lap and dozing off again. Another hour went by and he looked at his watch. It was after midnight, so he put another stack of cash in your bag. The movement seemed to be enough to wake you up this time, and when you opened your eyes you were a bit more aware of your surroundings. You shifted to lay on your back, looking directly up at him.

“Baekhyun” you groaned, still fairly drunk “why are you here?”

“I’m here every Saturday night.” He replied simply, smiling down at you in his lap. Gently he moved a strand of hair out of your face, and you felt yourself go red. Although you were now sober enough to know something was very wrong, with the way he looked at you in that moment, with so much warmth and admiration, you couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy inside.

You closed your eyes again and smiled, enjoying the feeling of Baekhyun caressing your cheek with the back of his hand in your drunken haze. No matter what shit had gone down earlier in the night, and why you were here with your head in his lap, this felt like bliss. You could’ve stayed like that for hours, just enjoying his gentle hands admiring your face.

“What time is it?” You asked lazily.

“12:15.”

“Fuck.” Your head snapped up and you sat next to Baekhyun, immediately feeling dizzy due to your intoxication. Head pounding, you rubbed your temples to try to relive some of the pain. “It’s that late? You never stay this late.”

“You’ve been sleeping for a while now.”

“Huh?”

“How are you feeling?

“Kind of drunk... and my head hurts. But what happened?” You slurred your words slightly, alcohol still apparent in your system.

He looked at you with sorry eyes. “Well, some assholes got you fucked up out of your mind. After I got here they came down the stairs and basically just dumped you into an empty chair and left, so I took you up here to sleep it off. You hit your head too, so be careful.” He rubbed the lump on the side of your head again, making you groan.

The terrified look on your face told him all he needed to know. He was about to see you cry for the first time, and he felt his heart drop.

“W-what? They took me upstairs?” A tear escaped, and more followed. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Some younger guys. I’d have beat the shit out of them if it wouldn’t get me kicked out.” You sensed the anger in his voice as he spoke. “Your bag was empty too by the way.”

Slowly you started piecing things together in your head, stomach churning with disgust and now fully crying.

“W-what, h-how did I-”

“No. This wasn’t your fault.” He interrupted, afraid this would happen. Afraid you would blame yourself. “They were assholes. They knew what they were doing.”

In reality, Baekhyun blamed himself. He knew you’d probably been nervous about whether or not he would show up. He should’ve been there earlier. But all that mattered now is that you were okay. At least physically.

As you sat next to him, head in your hands crying, he felt helpless. All he wanted to do was hold you tight and tell you all the things he was too scared to say out loud. But all he could manage was a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your sobs got more intense and he was caught off guard when you threw your arms around him, head buried into his chest as you kept quietly crying. Reluctantly, his arms found their way around you as well, holding you as you shook in his arms.

“Hey hey, it’s okay, I’m here, you’re okay now. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” He said softly, rubbing soothing circles onto your back.

“Thank you” you choked out between sobs. Embarrassed, but still too drunk to stop yourself, you held on to Baekhyun tighter and tighter. You hated to admit it but you already felt much better with his arms wrapped around you. The gentle feeling of his chest rising and falling against yours, compared to your erratic breaths, felt like heaven. “Thank you, l-I’m sorry.” 

“Shhh” he said, stroking your hair. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“B-but you stayed here with m-me the whole time.” You sobbed.

“That’s okay, I came here to spend time with you didn’t I?”

“Why are you like this? W-why me?” You asked, leaning back to look at him.

Baekhyun sighed.

You’d avoided the question when you were sober for a reason. You knew Baekhyun liked you too much, more than he should, and you didn’t need to know the details. It would only make you feel more guilty later. But now, with alcohol to give you courage you didn’t hold back.

“You know how much I like you.” He responds quietly, giving you a soft smile. “It’s stupid, I know.”

Another tear fell, and Baekhyun was quick to wipe it away. Even with makeup running down your face he looked at you with a tenderness that made it difficult to feel anything but a comforting warmth.

You stared at him, trying to find some form of deceit in his eyes, some hint that he was just messing with you, but all you saw was his admiration and care for you.

Another sob rolled through you and you wrapped your arms back around him. He held you like that for a while, and slowly the tears lessened and you calmed down a bit.

You pulled away from him and looked around the room, realizing where you were and thought to yourself how silly it all was. You were in a dance room, just sleeping on the couch all night as Baekhyun stayed and made sure you were alright. Every other time you’d been in here with him, your ass was on his lap grinding on him.

“Do you want a dance or anything?”

Baekhyun just laughed, “Don’t worry about me, I’m just as happy doing this. As long as I get to spend time with you.”

“Okay.” You said, but you made yourself comfortable on his lap anyway, legs stretched across the couch. You wrapped your arms around him again, and rested your head on his shoulder. He put an arm around your waist and you just sat like that for a while, enjoying each other’s embrace.

He hadn’t been lying, he’d take this over a lap dance any day. To have your arms around him like this, not because he paid you, but because you wanted to, for him nothing could beat that. The skin of your waist felt so soft beneath his palms, he thought he must be dreaming.

The sober part of you wanted to scream at you to get up. But when Baekhyun’s hands felt so warm and comforting on you, the drunken haze took over and you just basked in the feeling. In the back of your mind you knew you’d regret tonight’s events later, but now it felt too good to ignore. With your head resting on his shoulder and the sound of his heartbeat in your ear, you just felt right. Like this was where you were supposed to be. 

“Do you want me to take you home soon? I don’t think you should be driving yourself tonight.” Baekhyun asked, and your lips pulled into a pout. 

“Can we stay like this a little longer.” You lifted your head to look at him, and when you made eye contact, Baekhyun couldn’t help but grin. 

“Of course sweetheart, if that’s what you want.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at the pet name. That was the first time Baekhyun had called you anything like that before. He usually just called you by your name (or in the past, your stripper name). You didn’t mind, but you couldn’t help but find the word heart fluttering nonetheless. You laid your head back on his shoulder, and watched as he slowly ran his hand up and down your thigh. 

“You have such pretty hands.” You told him, reaching for the hand on your thigh. He didn’t respond, only laced his hands into yours, rubbing the back with his thumb. You kept silencing the voice in the back of your mind that was screaming at you to get up, to push Baekhyun away. But when his presence was this sweet and comforting you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. 

“Everything about you is pretty.” Your face burned red at his words. “So, so beautiful.”  

“You’re pretty cute too.” The alcohol did a good job of bringing the words out of you that you’d usually know better than to say out loud. 

Much to your dismay, Baekhyun moved you off his lap and got up, putting his hand out for you to stand up as well. 

“Let’s get you back home, it’s late and you’re still drunk.” At first you pouted again, but you eventually agreed. You grabbed his hand and got your shoes back on, following him back down the stairs. Your manager saw and gave you a strange look, but you ignored it. You went back to the dressing room to change and met Baekhyun again in the parking lot. Being seen leaving with customers looked bad, and after being upstairs for hours with him you didn’t want to raise any more suspicions. 

 You spotted him leaning against a black Audi, and you let him open the door for you and got in. You told him your address and he pulled out of the lot. For most of the car ride home you were silent. You still felt bad that Baekhyun had come to see you just for all of this to happen, and now he was having to drive you home too since you had gotten too wasted.

“I’m sorry, for everything. You just wanted a fun couple of hours and you got stuck babysitting my drunk ass.” 

“You know I don’t mind, I’m just glad you’re safe now.” He said as he was pulling up to your place. He parked, but looked over to you before getting out. “Can I give you my number? You don’t need to use it if you don’t want to, but I just want you to have it so you can call me if you’re in trouble again.” 

You looked him in the eyes again, looking for some sort of ulterior motives, but found them filled with nothing but care and warmth. “Okay.”

He looked surprised, but you just handed him your phone and let him put in his number. 

“I don’t want you to think you have to text me or call me or anything, I just feel better knowing you can contact me if you need someone.” 

You smiled. “I know.” 

Baekhyun got out to open the door for you, and when you stepped out you found yourself wrapping your arms around him again tightly.  “Thank you. Seriously, I don’t even wanna think about what could’ve happened tonight if it weren’t for you.” 

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, it’s no big deal. You know I’m happy as long as I’m with you.” 

You didn’t want to let go. The feeling of your head resting against his broad chest and his arms around you felt too sweet, too good to be true.

He’s the one who breaks away first. You could see his eyes scan your face, spending especially long on your lips. Your face heated up as you noticed the proximity between the two of you. 

“I, um.. I should get inside. Thanks for the ride.” You said, grabbing your bag  and quickly walking to the door. Baekhyun waved you goodbye and waited until you were inside to get back in his car and drive himself home. 

You almost immediately threw yourself into bed and passed out, but Baekhyun couldn’t stop thinking about your words and actions from earlier. The way you clung onto him as you cried, how happy you seemed to be sitting on his lap cuddled up to him, how you’d called him cute. His mind raced with the possibility of you maybe, possibly, being able to like him the way he liked you. He told himself it was just the alcohol, that you would never have acted like that sober. 

But he couldn’t help hoping he was wrong. 

As the night went on he only found himself falling deeper and deeper into thought. With nothing but the darkness of his bedroom to keep him company, he felt hyper aware of the emptiness around him. 

Baekhyun hated sleeping alone already, and with the thoughts of your sweet words and actions running rampant in his mind, it felt impossible. How was he supposed to relax when you had just called him cute? The night drew on and on, but Baekhyun didn’t sleep. Not when the feeling of your hands around his body was still so fresh in his mind. 

He was so close to what he yearned for more than anything, yet still so far. 

Next Chapter

[whumpiary]

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective !!! for the ask gameeeeeee 👀😍

little throwback for ya. pov change of this piece, the first disaster lads piece and first piece i ever posted. enjoy!

content warning: anxiety and referenced compulsive behavior, death mention

-

Josiah has a routine. It’s simple, straightforward, and stable.

On mornings when he wakes up and the overbearing feeling sits in his bones that he doesn’t know what to do or who to follow or how to exist without instruction, the routine taped to the wall above his lamp grounds and guides him.

5.30: Wake up.

5.45: Leave for a run.

6.45: Home, stretch, shower, dress.

7.15: Breakfast.

And then the rest.

The routine is stable. Consistent. But it’s not militant.

It’s not militant because Lou made a joke once about it being militant and so it’s not militant. It’s flexible. It changes. Josiah can be flexible. Spontaneous, for the moment, still may be a little too much but… from time to time at least, he can be flexible.

He makes sure he eats dinner late on a Wednesday night in case Mal and Lou decide they want to come over. Sometimes after the run he’ll go by the corner cafe to get a coffee before coming home. Maybe even a roll or a smoothie for breakfast.

Sometimes after lunch he takes time to head to the library. He makes sure his workouts in the afternoon are always a little different. He tries not to clean the house too much. He tries cooking new recipes. Even experiments with one or two. He changes things up. Keeps it relaxed.

Which is better for him anyway, probably. Keep himself familiar with change. Give himself some variety. One of the books had said that. The variety was good for mental wellness. For... recovery.

These last two weeks, the routine has been more flexible than usual. There have been inspections happening on and off with strangers coming and going from his house. So there’s been times he’s needed to make himself scarce. And more times, after the inspections, that he needs to spend tidying the house again.

It’s not so bad anymore, all that. The desperate need to clean and catalogue and keep everything in place. But when strangers have come and gone without him present, he feels an itch under his skin that won’t let up until everything’s checked over and tidied. Even that’s not as bad now as the first few times had been, a glance over and a tidy-up rather than a full house shake down. But it takes up time all the same and then even more time to properly wind down from it.

He can't remember what he'd said when the estate agent had walked through the property and asked why he was selling. Down sizing, maybe?

The truth of it was he just needed this chapter to be over. He needed things to reset. Lou had moved out, and the rest of the shut-up money was spent, and Cass was never coming back and he knew that now. He couldn't keep living in this place like a vigil. He couldn't.

He's just trying to wind down enough to get to sleep, real estate contracts swapped for post-apocalyptic pulp fiction – when there's a soft thump like someone’s dropped a package on his doorstep. Josiah's head jerks up, frowning. It's late. Shouldn't be anyone at the door.

Maybe it's just something out on the street. Maybe it's just something in his head. He checks his phone to make sure he hadn’t ordered food that he’d forgotten about. He knows he hasn’t. It’s too late, for one, and it’s not a Friday, for two. But he checks anyway. Nothing. There's no food coming. He's not expecting anyone.

The next two heavy thumps make him jump. They sound more like someone threw a brick at the window and missed than a proper knock at the door.

Josiah frowns, heart racing. The door's already chained. He could just ignore it. Go to bed. But the thought of not answering the door, of not knowing what the sound was, makes him feel sick, heart fluttering like he's feverish as his brain supplies him with endless explanations he can't calm.

Kids playing a prank, someone's dead and it's the cops, delivery driver got the wrong address, Ellie, axe murderer, a hallucination, a hand grenade, a possum.

There's never any logic to the worst-case scenarios his brain likes to run him through. It's a defensive thing, the books say. Preparing him so he's never caught off guard.

And yet, as he crosses the living room and opens the door, he still manages to be.

The figure in front of him is a dream. Isn't real. Can’t be. And yet there he is.

Cass.

Josiah tries to form the word to speak it but the first sound won’t make it out of his mouth. He can feel the back of his tongue pressed up against his soft palette, trying to form the consonant. He nearly chokes on it.

Cass.

He’s exactly the same. Hair long and tangled about his face. Converse scuffed and tearing at the side. The scar on his lip. The other by his eyebrow.

Cass. Cass. CassCassCassCass.

Cassius.

Even the jacket he’s wearing is the same, too big and rolled at the cuffs. Stolen from Josiah nearly two years ago on a promise-I’ll-give-it-back basis. Cass had never been very good at promises.

Cass barely has enough in him to raise his head for glazed eye-contact. “Di’n’t know where else t’go.”

It’s pure reflex that Josiah catches Cass as he falls, muscles suddenly giving out beneath him, eyes rolling back in his skull. Josiah's hand flies to the back of his neck to stop his head snapping back, under his waist to stop him from falling.

For a minute, Josiah doesn’t move, cool night air whipping in around them, the street dark and stretching forever on outside, the warm lamplight of the living room a soft landing behind them. It's a ghost, the man in his arms right now. It's a figment.

It's Cassius.

He’s alive.

It’s him.

It’s him, it’s him, it’s him. Couldn’t be anyone else. The smell of him, the weight of him, the warmth of him. It’s the same. It’s all exactly the same.

It’s Cass.

Cass came home.

Cass is light. Easy to carry. Josiah scoops him up. Holds him close. Takes him to the couch with a kick of the door to keep them safe inside. Keep the darkness out.

Cass is home.

Cass came home.

Josiah lays him on the couch, whole and real and alive, and the old routine takes over quick. He kneels genuflect beside and checks Cass over. Palm to his forehead for a fever, two fingers to his wrist for a pulse. Heart-rate is a little up, temp’s a little down. Sure. Long walk on a cold night.

Josiah lifts the sides of the jacket to check for any signs blood, pats down the sides of his legs for the same. Nothing. There might be something still in his system, if Josiah knew Cass, or a dangerous lack of something more like. But largely, for now, Cass seems to be fine.

He’s fine.

Josiah fetches a blanket from the hallway cupboard, and then another from his bed in case the first isn’t enough. Once both are laid out, Josiah finally lets himself sit, lowering himself into the green armchair by the standing lamp as though his legs might give out.

He picks up his phone, shaking so much he ends up holding it with two hands so he doesn’t drop it. He opens up Lou’s contact. He closes Lou’s contact. He opens up Lou’s contact again.

What would he say? What would he tell her? What does he even have to tell?

He closes Lou's contact.

The morning, he decides, phone resting back on the arm of the chair. He’d call her in the morning. When Josiah had a better lay of the land. When Cass was awake and he could tell him what had happened. There was no point in waking her at midnight, introducing her to panic. Because then he'd be dealing with that too, as well as all the rest.

He just needs to process first. The books said that too. That sometimes, after a big event or receiving new information it was important to just... take a moment. Find space. Process.

Josiah exhales, a deep and shaky thing that makes him aware of how hard his heart is beating. He'll have to cancel those inspections this week. He'll have to cancel everything.

Cass is back.

Cass is alive.

Cass is home.

Josiah's routine is about to dissolve like salt in water.

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Four

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, various characters in other chapters

Warnings: language, making out

Chapter Summary: You go on a short trip to Massachusetts to see Peter, Bucky takes you on a second date, someone gets caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Author’s Note: This was going to be a filler but it has a decent amount of necessary plot and progression. The next part will have a time jump so I don’t have to include a bunch of filler chapters, blehk. Let me know if you see my Avatar: The Last Airbender reference in here! And as always, you’re welcome to send me a coffee!

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Tags: @kennedywxlsh @ursmolbunny @devilswaldorf

By the time Monday rolled around, you were thankful Bucky had training in the morning or you would’ve never gone to sleep. Most of the deeper subjects had been touched on when you were together on Saturday, so Sunday was just texting more playful banter and fun facts you hadn’t learned during your lab hangouts, but you two still talked until your phone was propped up on your pillow waiting for another message while you drifted in and out of sleep.

Bucky had sent you a sweet “good morning, doll” text for you to wake up to, but you didn’t talk much before you had to head to work and he had to work out with Steve. That’s the downside to waking up with just enough time to get ready. Not much wiggle room for distractions, no matter how delicious.

You had barely settled in to your workspace, specs for Sam’s wings pulled up in front of you, when you had a request for a FaceTime call from Peter, of all people. You hadn’t seen him in a few weeks since he went back to campus, but he was set to come back soon for a weekend.

“Hey Peter, what’s up?” you answered.

“Hey [Y/N]! I, uh, I kind of have a big favor to ask,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“Oh… okay? What’s going on?”

“Well, you remember that project you wanted my help on?” You nodded. “Well I talked to my professor about it and he said I can use it as my final project for this semester as long as you come to the proposal and document what you did on it so I don’t take credit for any of your work. If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine! I can probably work on another project, I just don’t want to put your project off and make you wait for me to finish my part —“

“Peter!” you shouted, cutting off his rambling with a laugh. “I think that sounds great. It’ll be nice for you to kill two birds with one stone. When would I need to be there?”

“Uhh,” he started with another forced laugh. “My proposal is Wednesday.”

You stared at the screen, motionless at his response. “Wednesday. Like, two days from now, Wednesday?” Peter nodded. You could practically see him sweating through the phone, worrying about whether or not he should’ve asked his professor sooner or just completely avoided the subject entirely. But you knew he probably didn’t have much heads-up and considered using your project a little late in the game. “It’s a good thing I like you, kid. Let me double check with the boss but I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

“Yes! You’re the best!” Peter cheered.

“I’ll text you when my flight leaves because there’s no way I’m driving ten hours.”

You and Peter briefly went over how things would work, from what you should wear to whether you’d be getting a hotel room or bunking on his futon. While you were talking, you emailed your dad about the trip and got a quick approval. Tony liked Peter, and you understood why. He reminded you of your father if your dad had a stutter instead of an ego.

Mid-afternoon, when you took your second 20-minute break of the day just to let your brain relax, there was a soft tap on the door of your lab before Bucky poked his head in. He stepped in and looked around the whole room frantically before he noticed you curled up under a blanket on the giant bean bag chair you shoved into the corner once Peter left. You liked being able to take your breaks in the quiet of the lab so your brain could actually shut down for a few minutes.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky said with a smile.

“Hey Buck,” you replied, mirroring his smile. “How’s your day?”

“Pretty good,” he said with a sigh. “Just bored so I thought I’d see what you were up to.”

“Just taking a break,” you shrugged. “But you’re more than welcome to sit with me while I work. I won’t interact much because I lose focus easily but you can hang out.”

“As appealing as that is,” he started as he walked closer to you in your bean bag chair, “I know I’d start asking questions and I don’t want to distract you.”

You stood from your spot as he got closer and smirked up at him. “You are pretty distracting.” He stopped when he was toe-to-toe with you. “It’s a good thing my breaks are made for distraction.”

He smiled down at you as his warm hand curled around the back of your neck and pulled you into him for a kiss, your own hands looping through his belt and pulling his body closer to yours.

You practically melted into him, feeling as if you couldn’t get closer no matter how hard you tried. Even him slipping his thigh between your legs didn’t feel close enough. Then the weight of his metal hand fell to your waist as his tongue entered your mouth. It was all reminiscent of your first kiss just a couple days before.

Except outside your apartment, you didn’t have to worry about getting caught.

“Hey [Y/N], have you—“ You and Bucky quickly pulled apart at the sound of a new voice coming from the doorway and you immediately started to panic.

“—seen Bucky,” Steve ended with a sigh. The door quietly clicked shut behind him as he stepped in. “So you two…?”

“Have been on a date,” you said, walking toward Steve with your hands held out. “Steve, please don’t tell anyone, especially Tony.”

“You kind of owe me one, punk,” Bucky said as he walked closer, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I never ratted you out for lying on, what, five different enlistment papers?”

Steve huffed at this, clearly stuck between following the rules or letting others break rules that were much more harmless than his past rule breaking.

“You know this is gonna come out eventually, right? You won’t be able to hide this — and whatever this becomes — forever,” Steve warned.

“We know,” you said solemnly, “but it’s nice to just have this for now, you know?” You looked over at Bucky, who was leaning against the lab table looking back at you, his lips quirked in a small smile.

“Just… be careful,” Steve said as he started to leave. “If you don’t lock the door, at least ask Friday to alert you if someone is coming this way.”

“You know, I don’t care what people say about you, Steve. You’re pretty smart.” Steve initially smiled but then let out a short ‘hey!’ as you pushed him the rest of the way out.

“That was close,” you said, turning back to Bucky.

“But at least we have a pretty influential Avenger on our side, if we ever get outed,” Bucky said. Too bad he didn’t know the approval of everyone on earth would mean nothing to your dad — and both of your boss.

“Well, that little debacle kind of wasted the rest of my break,” you pouted, stepping up to Bucky.

“Can I take you out again?”

“I’d like that a lot,” you smiled. “Oh! I’m leaving for Massachusetts tomorrow and coming back on Thursday and have my family thing on Friday so will Saturday work?”

“Massachusetts?” Bucky asked, clearly missing the rest of your statement.

“Yeah, I’m helping Peter with a project so his prof wants me to be there to answer questions while he proposes his project. It’ll just be Wednesday, but Tony let me have tomorrow and Thursday off for travel so I’m taking my time.”

“That sounds…” Bucky started. “Uhh… I gotta be honest, that sounds unbearably boring,” he laughed, making you giggle with him. “But good luck to you and Peter. I’ll see you Saturday?”

•

The trip to Massachusetts was short but boring, and you were relieved to see Peter’s car when you stepped outside. Your hotel was right down the road from his dorm, so you dropped your stuff off before heading to his room to go over the proposal.

Even though you had only spent a few weeks working with Peter, he had grown to be like a brother to you. Spending so much time every day with no one else to talk to can really help people bond. Your dad’s adoration for the kid definitely helped, too. You wouldn’t be surprised if your dad eventually brought Peter along to family dinner.

“So I have to do most of the work, but you’ll need to explain why we’re doing this and what you’ll be doing,” Peter said after reviewing his speech.

“Okay, I can manage that.”

Peter was quiet for a second before saying, “Do you… maybe wanna go over what you’ll say…?”

“Oh, sure! Sorry, public speaking is a big thing in my family so I just figured I’d wing it.”

“Please don’t,” Peter said quietly, his eyes going wide right as the words left his mouth. “I don’t mean that in a bad way! I just mean, this proposal is important to me so I want it to go as smoothly and well-planned as possible.”

“Okay, you be your professor.”

Peter cleared his throat and said, “Miss [Y/L/N], what prompted you to start this project with Mr. Parker? And what role will you play in its growth?”

“Well, Dr. Kramer, I recently received a promotion within Stark Industries to work with the Avengers on their weaponry. This work included the vibranium arm on the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes. One thing I noticed early on was the lack of sensory receptors within the arm. That observation, along with a similar request from Mr, Barnes, prompted me to look into ways to change this. Mr. Parker has an internship with Mr. Stark so, considering our different areas of study, I sought out his help. With my knowledge and expertise on the mechanical side of things, Mr. Parker will primarily be working on the more biological side of things. Once he finds a way to connect new receptors to the spinal column through the current nerve channels, I’ll be able to create millions of micro-receptors that will need to essentially be surgically embedded in the vibranium. I already have the blueprints for this process; I’m more than willing to share those documents with you, though it is confidential and I would need you to sign an NDA for safety reasons.”

Peter stood in the middle of his room, speechless.

“I told you it runs in my family,” you laughed. “Now pick your jaw up off the floor. I’m hungry.”

The next day, Peter and you breezed through the proposal. Peter didn’t even stutter during his speech! But his classmates did bombard you with questions that the professor quickly shut down. You and Peter spent the rest of the day catching up. He introduced you to his girlfriend Michelle and his friends Ned and Flash. By the time you got back to your hotel that night, you were exhausted — and thankful for an afternoon flight.

The next morning, you got breakfast with Peter before his class and finished packing to fly back to New York. You were once again grateful for an afternoon flight because by the time you got back, you didn’t have time to get back to work. So you took the evening off and treated yourself to a bath, some wine, and your favorite Netflix series — and texting Bucky, of course.

Family dinner that week was much easier than the previous week. Your dad mainly asked about your project with Peter, only briefly touching on Bucky’s involvement. At least until your phone buzzed on the table. It was a rule that phones stay face-up on the table at dinner and any messages get read aloud. So when you saw “James 🐻” pop up, heat rushed to your face. You managed to snatch your phone before your dad could, but you still had to read it out loud to the table.

“Uh,” you nervously cleared your throat. “So, James said ‘I have an idea for our date tomorrow, but I would need full reign over your kitchen for a while.’” You sent the table a tight-lipped smile as you locked your phone and set it down again, waiting for someone to say something.

“You’re going out with this James again?” your dad asked.

“Yes,” you said plainly. “I like him, dad. A lot.”

“And you’re already inviting him over?”

“Dad, stop. I’m a grown woman; I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just saying… well, don’t you want to get to know him better first? Make sure he doesn’t want to wear your skin?”

“Ew, shut up,” you laughed. “I’ve done plenty of research into him; he’s a good guy.” Your dad still looked skeptical, so you pulled out your puppy dog eyes. “Please trust me on this.”

Tony huffed and shook his head. “Okay, fine. He’s a good guy. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. And don’t do anything I would do either.” You rolled your eyes at him but managed to divert the conversation by asking Happy and Pepper what Tony’s limit really meant.

•

The next day at 3:30 on the dot, you got a call to your house phone by the front door. It was unusual, especially since you hadn’t ordered any food. The doorman usually brought food up, but called if they were working alone. And you knew they weren’t working alone, considering how early it was. Still in your sweats and a t-shirt since Bucky wasn’t coming over until 4, you answered the phone with a simple “hey.”

“Hello Miss [Y/L/N],” you recognized the doorman Matt’s voice, “there’s a James at the front door for you?”

“Oh, okay, shit,” you said, whispering the last word to yourself. “Go ahead and send him up.”

“Would you like to grant him regular access to your residence?” Matt was always so formal, probably because you pushed for your dad to hire him and he knew he had to keep this gig. His background check showed he came from a low-income family and really wanted to turn that around. He knew he owed you and because of that, he was always grateful and sweet.

“Yes please. Thanks, Matt!”

With that, you hung up and sprinted to your room, knowing Bucky only had a 20 second elevator ride before he got to the sixth floor. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have time to scramble for new clothes before there was a knock at your door. You grumbled as you ran back to the front door and greeted Bucky.

“Hi,” you said, half out of breath from your scurrying.

“Hey,” he smiled back. “I’m glad we chose the same style today.”

You gave him an admittedly generous once-over and realized his gray sweats and black tee matched yours, though your shirt did have an NYU logo on it.

“Oh thank god,” you nearly cackled. “I was panicking because I thought I should dress nice but you were early so I didn’t have time but I didn’t want to get ready too early so I wasn’t —“

“Hey [Y/N]?” Bucky interrupted. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” You stepped aside and let him kick his shoes off in the entryway. That’s when you noticed all the grocery bags in his hands. “Uhh, whatcha got there?”

“I said I’d need your kitchen, right?” he smiled, sending a wink your way as he started setting up. “I’m gonna cook you some authentic Romanian dishes ma used to make back in the ‘30s.”

“Ohh, sounds yummy. Can I help?”

“If you want to eat any of it, you better help,” Bucky joked.

“Let me grab a couple aprons so our fancy attire doesn’t get dirty.” In the hallway closet, you had about a dozen aprons Happy got for you. You said you needed some aprons once and suddenly you were getting new aprons for every gift-giving holiday. You appreciated it, though. Every time Happy saw an apron he thought you’d like, he bought it. And you, in return, bought him every oven mitt you thought he would like after he accidentally burned his hand making green bean casserole one year for Thanksgiving.

You grabbed the “Queen of the Cat-chen” apron covered in cats for yourself and for Bucky, the “I’ll feed all you fuckers” apron your dad thought was hilarious on your last birthday.

“Sorry I don’t have any matching chef hats,” you joked as you handed Bucky his apron.

For the next three hours, you followed all Bucky’s instructions and watched as he did his part of the work, chatting while things cooked and finally relaxing once everything was plated. You each had a decent amount of food debris on your aprons, making you thankful you both wore them. You led Bucky into the living room where you sat on the floor between your couch and the coffee table.

“You know the couch is made for sitting, right?” Bucky asked as he slowly sat behind you, one leg on either side of your body.

“Yeah, but it’s more fun to sit on the floor, especially when I’m eating.” You turned your head to face him as you continued, “I get too sleepy if I’m on the couch too long.”

He chuckled at your confession but didn’t argue. You both ate in comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the hum of traffic six floors down and the TV quietly playing a crackling fire YouTube video.

“Can you finish this for me?” you asked as Bucky set his empty plate on the coffee table.

“I’m full, doll.”

“Bucky, please? I can’t finish it,” you whines, pouting up at him.

“Then just put it away with the leftovers and eat it later,” he shrugged.

“But I’m so bad at eating leftovers,” you groaned.

“Then I’ll put it away and eat the leftovers,” he conceded. He snatched the plate from you and headed to your kitchen to pack it all away.

By the time he made it back, you were snuggled under a blanket on the couch with “What’s Your Number?” pulled up on the TV.

“I hope you’re okay with watching my favorite movie,” you smiled, making sure to flutter your eyelashes extra hard so he couldn’t say no.

“I haven’t seen this one yet so sure,” he said with a shrug.

He yanked the blanket off your body and unfolded it so he could bring you under his right arm and cover both of you with the thick fabric. Ever since Monday in the lab, he’s been more affectionate. He stopped by on Friday and kissed you at least half a dozen times before he left, then earlier while you were cooking, it was like he had to hold your hips every time he watched over your shoulder, and he chose to end the night holding you into his side and… oh, you were a goner once his fingers started lightly tracing shapes on your bare arm.

And he had to have known you were weak, if the way he angled his body toward you was any indication. You loved the movie you had picked out and really did want to watch it… but when you looked up at Bucky and saw his gaze meet yours, you knew the movie was going to be long forgotten.

His lips pressed to yours firmly, like he wanted to make sure you remembered what he felt like. You quickly let things escalate by gripping his hair and pulling him with you and you laid back on the couch. Your legs fell open as he slid right between them, his left arm propped on the cushion to keep himself from crushing you and his right slipping under your shirt to hold your waist. When his tongue passed your lips, you couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling of him taking control. His hand never moved past your waist, just occasionally squeezing as he pressed his body against yours.

The rest of the night was spent alternating between making out, talking while you were chest to chest on the couch, and making out some more until you fell asleep against his chest.

•

The next morning, you woke up to the blaring sound of a ringtone... that wasn’t your ringtone. And you were on your couch? The sleepy haze quickly wore off when you felt Bucky’s body shift behind you to reach over and grab his phone.

“What?” he answered grumpily, though your body’s initial reaction was to how deep and gravelly his voice was in the morning. Fuck.

With how close you two were and how quiet it was with the TV off, you managed to barely make out what was being said on the other end of the line.

“Where are you?” It was Steve. “You were supposed to be at the group breakfast this morning but you weren’t in your room so I told Tony you weren’t feeling well.”

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky groaned. Now that sound sent all your senses into overdrive. “I fell asleep at [Y/N]’s last night.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured,” Steve replied, clearly exasperated. “Look, just stop by a convenience store and grab some medicine so when you get back, no one questions it. You snuck out when no one saw, that’s the story.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll head out soon.” Once they hung up, you rolled over on the couch to face Bucky.

“Good morning,” you said with a sleepy grin.

“Good morning,” he replied, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m sure you heard but I’ve gotta head out before Tony gets suspicious.”

“Okay. Text me when you get back?”

Bucky stood from the couch, and you followed suit behind him as he put his sneakers and jacket on.

“I’ll text you on my whole trip back,” he smiled. “Looks like you might have to bring those leftovers with you tomorrow. I don’t know that I can sneak them back today.”

You practically skipped to join him at the door, your hands going to rest on his chest before he could leave.

“Should we just designate Saturdays as our date nights?” you asked.

“Who said you get another date?” Bucky joked back.

“Excuse me?” you gasped in mock offense. “Next time I get to choose what we do and I’m not letting you take that away from me.”

Bucky chuckled at your little outburst but pressed another kiss to your lips as a peace offering.

“Next Saturday, your pick,” he smirked.

“It’s a date.”

[let-me-luve-you]

Winter Storm

Jared Padalecki x Reader

Summary: You play Cordell Walker’s daughter on the new show Walker. Jared takes you under his wing. What happens when a winter storm hits all of Texas.

Warnings: Mentions of a rough upbringing, Texas winter storm, power outage, water problems, some angst, scary weather, fluff, protective Jared, maybe a cuss word somewhere

A/N: As a Texan, this past week has been scary. I have been extremely blessed to not have the problems that a lot are. I was lucky and did not lose power and did not have any pipes burst. This idea came to me after seeing that Jared and Gen were helping others while dealing with their own problems at their house. 

HERE ARE SOME LINKS TO HELP OUT IF YOU ARE ABLE TO. 

KICK THE COLD - AUSTIN MUTUAL AID

GENESIS WOMEN’S SHELTER & SUPPORT

FEEDING TEXAS

LIST OF ORGANIZATIONS SEEKING DONATIONS IN DALLAS AREA

THE WAY HOME

You do not have to donate to any of these organizations, but if you feel the need to help, here are a few links. ^^^^ There are plenty more out there if you don’t want to donate to these links. 

MASTERLIST   BUY ME A COFFEE

Winter weather will be hitting Texas this weekend. You can expect lots of snow and ice. It is best to prepare for possible power outages and water being turned off. That is worst case scenario, but be prepared as Sunday will be a cold one.

You panicked. Growing up in North Texas you never had to deal with severe winter weather. You were used to dealing with tornados. But the way they were talking on the news, this weekend was going to be bad.

Thankfully you had the day off and were able to go to the store. You grabbed a case of water and food that you could prepare and food that didn’t have to be cooked to eat. You were still getting used to the adult life as an 18 year old, but since you had been taking care of yourself the last few years, you learned a thing or two in the kitchen. You made sure to grab some snacks as well since they didn’t have to be cooked or stored in the fridge either.

As you pulled up to your apartment building, you got a call from the lead and producer of the show you were on. You still weren’t sure how you managed to land the role of Stella in the new show Walker, but you were grateful. You put the car in park and grabbed your phone.

“Hey Jare.” You said. Jared was the older brother you always wanted, even though he plays your dad and he has moments where he acts like your dad. You didn’t have a great life growing up and to have a male figure in your life to help you in anyway, made you happy. Same thing with Gen.

“Hey Y/N/N. How’re you doing?” He asked.

“I’m doing good. Just got back from the store. Am I needed on set?” You asked in a panic thinking you missed something.

“No, no you’re not needed. Just wanted to call and tell you we are not filming Monday or Tuesday next week. And depending on the weather and roads, we may cancel Wednesday as well.” He informed you.

“Oh. Is it because of the storm?” You asked.

“Yeah. We aren’t sure how bad it’ll be, but we are hoping we are just being over cautious.” He said. “You said you went to the store?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to get something’s so I won’t have to get out. And I got some stuff. I won’t need to cook in case we lose power. Also filled up with gas in case I lose heat and need to warm up some.” You told him.

“Come stay with us. We have plenty of room and we have a fireplace. We just restocked our firewood supply. I don’t want to be worrying about you all weekend.” He said.

“I’ll be okay. Really. Thank you for the offer though.” You said nicely. You really did mean it. You were used to taking care of yourself that when people did want to help you, you appreciated them.

“Well. I have my truck if I need to come get you. If you change your mind, come over. The kids would love to see you.” He said. You heard Gen agree with him in the background. “And Gen would too.”

“Well after the storm, I’ll come over for dinner to see everyone. And I’ll even come another night to babysit so you and Gen can go on a date.” You said with a laugh once you heard Gen immediately laugh.

“Gen says you don’t have to, but I will take you up on both offers.” Jared told you. “Okay. Well stay in touch. They say it’ll start sometime tomorrow night.”

“Y’all stay safe and stay in touch too.” You said. “Bye Jare.”

“Bye Y/N/N.” He said before hanging up. You put your phone back into your pocket before lugging all of the groceries into your apartment. You put everything away before going to change out of your winter clothes.

After changing into some PJs to be comfortable. You decided to meal prep some so you wouldn’t have to worry about it later. And if the weather isn’t as bad as they think it’ll be, you can just eat them throughout the week.

Sunday morning, you woke up and looked outside. All you could see was white fluffiness. You smiled as the world looked at peace. You loved snow. You always thought it brought beauty to the world.

When you walked back to your phone where it laid on its charger, you saw a couple of texts from Jared and Gen. Both had sent you photos of Tom, Shep, and Odette playing the in the snow. Then you saw Jared’s text about possible rolling power outages.

You picked up the phone and called Jared and before he could even say hello, you asked, “What does that mean? Your text... I don’t understand it.”

“It means they’ll shut the power off for an hour to three hours to preserve energy.” Jared said.

“Oh.” You said.

“Yeah, so if the power goes out, don’t worry, it should come back on.” He reassured you.

“Okay. Thank you for letting me know.” You replied.

“Of course. How are you doing anyways?” He asked.

“Good. Just woke up. Felt good to sleep in. I’m probably about to start warming up my lunch.” You informed him. “How are y’all handling it over there? I saw the pics you and Gen sent. The kids look like they’re having a blast.”

“We’re doing good. The kids are definitely loving the snow. I did have to help Gen gather the chickens this morning which wasn’t fun.” He said with a laugh.

“Oh gosh. Yeah chasing chickens isn’t fun. Are they okay? I didn’t even think about y’all’s animals?”

“They’re all in the barn with heat lamps. Thankfully the barn is powered by solar so we don’t have to worry too much if the power goes out since we have a lot of energy stored up.” He said.

“Good that’s good. Well I’ll let you get back to doing whatever you were doing. Thanks again for letting me know.”

“Anytime. If you need something, holler. Okay?” He asked.

“I will. Bye.” You said. You heard his farewell as you went to hang up the phone. After preheating the oven, you took the lasagna and boxed garlic bread out of the freezer. You figured, while the power was still on, you could cook the one meal you prepped that couldn’t be eaten cold until you cooked it and it was leftovers.

An hour later, you sat at the counter charging your phone and iPad while you ate. When you went to take another bite, the power cut off.

“Great.” You whispered. You knew it was only going to be for a few hours, but you were a little aggravated by the inconvenience. You stood up and went and put on thicker sweatpants and your socks. When you made it back to your phone to text Jared that your power went out, you saw you barely had any service. That concerned you in case you needed to make a call for an emergency.

Power just went out. Hopefully y’all didn’t lose power. I’ll let you know when it’s back on. Sent 1:23 pm

You continued to eat as you awaited a response. Shrugging when you finished your meal and put the dirty dish in the sink, you moved to the living room to read a book you started the night before.

Hours later, you still had no power and you still hadn’t heard from Jared or Gen. You had checked social media, but neither had posted anything. You decided to scroll through Twitter and saw the horrors of people’s pipes bursting and roofs caving in flooding their homes.

Seeing people in Austin posting that, you decided to grab a tote to store your valuables in. Sadly, it wasn’t a lot, but the idea of losing what little you had that meant something to you scared you.

You needed to go to your car to charge your phone and warm up some, so you decided to store your valuables in the trunk. Thankfully you had a covered parking space that was right in front of your apartment. When you put the tote in the trunk, you checked to make sure the tail pipe was clear of snow before you started the car.

After spending an hour in the car, you decided it was time for bed. Grabbing every piece of blankets you had, you cuddled up in Jared’s hoody that you stole from him when you filmed episode 2 of Walker and all the blankets. You even had on two pairs of socks on since you got cold earlier.

The next morning, you checked to see your phone still had more than half its battery life left. But what shocked you was still no response from Jared. You got on Instagram and saw that Gen had posted a boomerang of him with his socks on as gloves, but neither had checked in with you.

You were kind of upset by this. You knew they didn’t owe you anything, but it still hurt. Going to the kitchen, you saw it was flooded.

“Oh no. Oh no. Nonononono.” You panicked. You ran to the bathroom and grabbed all the towels you owned and rushed back to the kitchen. You threw them down to try and absorb as much water as possible. You opened the cabinet and saw the pipe that had burst. You grabbed your phone and called the landlord.

“Hey Craig. I had a pipe burst this morning.” You said when he answered.

“Can’t do much with the weather like this.” He said not really caring.

“Can you turn the water off or something? Or tell me where it is and I’ll do it.” You said getting angry.

“Can’t do that either. If I do that, your neighbors lose their water too.” He said.

“Well what am I supposed to do. Just sit in water all day?” You asked with an annoyed tone.

“City’s running out of water anyway so they may shut it off. So won’t be long before it stops.” He said. You got so mad that you hung up. He was useless.

After 3 hours, all of your towels were soaked and you started using some of your clothes to help absorb what the towels couldn’t. You had tried calling Jared to see if he knew what to do but it went straight to voicemail. Same with Gen.

After using most of your clothes to stop the water, you decided to pack a bag in case you had to leave. Plus it would let you know what you could use to absorb the water that still remains. Thankfully your landlord had turned the water off after multiple people called about pipes bursting. All you had to do was finish cleaning up the mess.

Two days later, you were sitting in your car, about to go back into your apartment when you got a call from Gen.

“Y/N. Oh my gosh it’s so good to hear from you. We haven’t had service, plus we lost power and had a few pipes burst. Are you okay?” She asked worriedly.

“I’m okay. Sitting in my car right now so I could charge my phone and warm up a bit.” You told her.

“You don’t have power still?” She asked.

“Nope. And I also had a pipe burst. But I cleaned it up and nothing was damaged. Did you have any damage done? Is everyone okay?” You asked concerned.

“Yeah. We are fine. And just minimal floor damage.” She told you. “Jared is cleaning that mess up while I’m going to the store. Do you need anything? We have some of our neighbors over trying to stay warm and I’m grabbing them stuff too. So I don’t mind getting you anything.”

“I’m okay. I have plenty.” You said. You wanted heat. You wanted to sleep without having to wear five layers, but you refused to ask.

“Well if you do need something, text or call. Hopefully we get service back.” She said.

“I will. Thanks Gen.” you said as you hung up. Ten minutes later you got a call from Jared.

“Pack a bag and bring some blankets.” He said before you could even greet him.

“What?” You asked genuinely confused.

“I said, pack a bag and bring some blankets. Also if you want to bring any food you don’t want to go to waste or if you have water, bring that too. I’ll come in and help you carry.” He said.

“Wh-wait.. what is happening?” You asked.

“I’m coming to get you and you are going to stay with us for a couple of days. I just got off the phone with Gen and she said you had a pipe burst and you don’t have heat. So you are going to come stay with us until your power is back on and the pipe is fixed.” He said. “I’m pulling up. I’ll be inside in a second.” He hung up before you could say anything.

You went and unlocked the door before moving to your room. You grabbed your big suitcase and packed what few pair of pants you had, a weeks worth of underwear, two weeks worth of socks since you hated having cold feet, and the remaining three sweaters and seven shirts you had. It barely filled your suitcase so you decided to throw in a couple of hoodies as well.

“That all your packing?” Jared asked concerned. No one knew how long this was going to last.

“It’s all I got clean.” You answered honestly.

“No way.” He said in disbelief. You shrugged and told him to follow you as you walked into the kitchen. He saw the pile of clothes and towels on the ground. “Oh Y/N. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“Happened to you too.” You said before moving back to your room. You grabbed a blanket and started to fold it, starting a pile you were taking with you to the Padalecki’s. Once you finished that, you grabbed your pillow too.

“Want any books or anything? You have room in your suitcase.” Jared said as he pointed to it. You shrugged and grabbed a few books you had been wanting to read. After throwing them into the suitcase, you ran to the living room to grab your iPad and chargers.

“We can charge them in the cars if we need to.” Jared said when you thought about not putting them in your bag. You nodded before throwing them in and zipping it up. “This ready to go to the truck?” You nodded once again before he grabbed the suitcase handle and stack of blankets and your pillow with ease. “Go figure out food and I’ll come back to help.”

Once in the kitchen, you grabbed the full water case you had bought a few days before and the almost empty one that you had already opened. You then moved to the fridge to grab the few casserole dishes you had left to eat. You grabbed your travel food carrier and put the casseroles in first before the almost empty case of water in after it. You saw Jared walking back in and asked,

“Is there any food of mine you want? I’ve got everything packed that will definitely go bad before I get back. The rest has already gone bad.” You said while looking at Jared who was looking through your cabinets. He found your snack one and grabbed a few things and shoved them in your carrier.

“That’s all I want.” He smirked. “Ready to go? We can come back in a couple of days if we need to.”

“Ready.” You walked to his truck and he helped you load the water and carrier. As you got into the passenger seat and started to buckle, you said, “thanks for coming to get me and letting me stay with you.”

“Anything for family.” He said smiling at you before driving carefully back to his house.

“But we aren’t family?” You said more as a question.

“You’re my tv daughter, so technically we are.” He said with a laugh. “But in all seriousness, I do see you as family. Me and you have gotten close over these past few months. I can see you as a daughter and I can see you as a little sister.” You could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“Really?” You asked. He nodded his head. “It means a lot to hear you say that. I see you as a big brother.”

“Good.” You saw him smile. “That means you can ask me for anything or do anything and I’ll be there for you. Sorry I didn’t come get you sooner. I thought about it.”

“It’s okay. I tried calling but could never get through. It happens. I’m just glad nothing more serious happened. I’m glad we are all safe.” You said honestly.

“And we are about to get you warm. We have the fire going in the living room and in mine and Gen’s room. Kids have been sleeping with us or on the floor in our room. You’re welcome to make a pallet in front of the fire and crash there.” He said as he pulled into his driveway.

“Sleeping in front of a warm fire sounds lovely right now. Thank you.” You leaned over and gave him a big hug. “I love you Jare.” You said before pulling back to kiss his cheek.

“Love you too y/n/n.” He smiled at you. “Now let’s go take all this in and get you warmed up.”

Tags: @deadcoldhearts​

[voiceless-terror]

Of Deadlines and Drama

For @jontim-week Day Three: Late

Rating: T

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Jon’s has trouble with his expenses. Tim helps out. 

“Late again? Really, Jon?”

“I know, I know!” Jon types as fast as his shaking hands will allow, but it’s no use. It’s Wednesday and its half past twelve, meaning Rosie will not be accepting his expense report under any circumstances. She’s a stickler for deadlines- at least, when it comes to Jon. They’ve never been on the best of terms, but ever since what Jon has deemed ‘The Incident,’ she’s been downright unpleasant. 

“I thought you set an alarm this time!” Tim says, coming over to lean against his desk. Tim has an alarm for everything - waking up, eating, exercising, going to bed. Jon doesn't know how he stands it. “I didn’t hear anything go off.”

“I might have told you I set one,” he winces, avoiding Tim’s eyes. “And then forgot to.”

“Jon, Jon, Jon…”

“Don’t triple Jon me!” he snaps, attempting to focus on the meaningless numbers in front of him. “I’m stressed enough as is. God, Elias is going to kill me…”

“Why are you trying to impress him?” Tim plops down in the chair beside him and props his feet up on Jon’s desk, raising an eyebrow. He looks infuriatingly handsome in his button up and sweater, a look that Jon has tried to emulate, only to achieve ‘overworked librarian.’ “The only person you should be trying to impress is me. Your boyfriend. The light of your life, the reason you get up in the morning-”

“The reason these are going to be even later than usual,” Jon snaps and knocks Tim’s feet off of the desk with a sharp elbow. Tim yelps and throws Jon a hurt look that he tries and fails to ignore. “I’m sorry. You did tell me to set an alarm. It’s just...these things get away from me.”

“I know.” Tim’s face softens as he scooches his chair over and leans forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “How can I help?”

“You can convince Rosie to accept these. You’re very persuasive.” He turns and gives Tim his best doe-eyed look, though he already knows the answer.

“I am persuasive, aren’t I?” Jon ignores his preening. “But that’s not going to work. You know as soon as she sees your name…”

Jon sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “Yes, I know.”

“What did you do to her, Jon? Run over her dog? I know they scare you, but still...”

“They don’t scare me,” Jon lies, pointedly looking away. “I just...would rather not have them near my person. And you know I can’t drive.”

“What then?” Jon says nothing, focusing instead on chipping away at a small scratch in the wood of his desk. The whole thing’s rather embarrassing, and he’s gone this long without telling anyone. Tim moves his chair even closer, nudging it against Jon’s and squishing him into his desk. He’s effectively trapped.

“C’mon. Pleeease?”

Jon sighs at the wheedling tone. “I...may have snapped at her.” 

“You do that with everyone, though. Unless you said something especially heinous...” Another nudge to his chair. 

“And then... stumbled.”

“...okay?”

Jon closes his eyes. “And spilled my tea all over Elias’s mail.”

Tim guffaws, as expected, and Jon can feel his face warm. It certainly wasn’t his proudest moment, he can still hear Rosie’s screeching and his own stammered apologies. “That’ll do it! God, I wish I’d seen that.”

“It was incredibly embarrassing, and I’m glad you didn’t. Elias wasn’t in, thank god.”

“You could’ve gotten it all over one of those posh suits he wears.” Jon shudders at the thought. Elias is fastidious about his appearance, he would’ve been fired on the spot. Starting to feel claustrophobic, Jon pushes back against Tim’s chair to give himself breathing room and tries to refocus. He’s dawdled long enough.

Tim hums. “Hmm, maybe…”

“Maybe what?” He tucks his head over Jon’s shoulder, probably eying the obvious errors in his report. Jon’s never been good with numbers. 

“Rosie doesn’t accept expenses after twelve, that’s true. But…” Tim trails off, definitely relishing in the small twitch in Jon’s eye when he does it. He enjoys riling him up, and he’s very good at it. Jon contains the urge to elbow him in the stomach.

“But what?” He’s starting to sound like a broken record. 

“But she doesn’t actually give them to Elias until three or four.” Tim smirks at his affronted gasp. Jon’s never been that late, but Rosie’s always going on about ‘deadlines being very important to Mr. Bouchard’ and ‘I’m sorry I just can’t accept these so late, I’ve already given him the pile.’ Jon’s wallet has paid the price for this on more than one occasion- he counts on those reimbursements, and it often leaves him short on cash for the rest of the week. Tim will pick up the check on those days, waving off Jon’s protests and trying to assuage his guilt. Before he can start raging about the newly-discovered arbitrary deadline, Tim cuts in.

“But if I distract her, you can slip them in her little pile and she’ll be none the wiser!” Tim gives him a cheeky grin. It’s...not a bad plan, but Jon’s hesitant at the thought of pulling one over on his boss’s secretary.

“Or I could just wait until she goes to the bathroom and do it then.” Tim’s face falls at the suggestion.

“Or I could distract her.” 

Ah. So that’s what this is about. They haven’t been on an investigation in weeks, and he always gets restless when they’re cooped up in the institute. And a bored Tim is a dangerous Tim.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! This way we can control the scenario, make sure you have enough time to get in and out.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “And what if she sees through your antics?”

Tim gives a dramatic gasp, rearing back in his seat and just barely missing a passing librarian. “Are you doubting my acting skills? I’ll have you know you aren’t the only theater kid in this place. And I didn’t want to bring it up, but...you owe me.”

Jon’s heart drops. Of course. Jon can’t coast along on his boyfriend’s paychecks, that’s asking too much. It’s his fault he’s in this predicament, and honestly, he should be thanking Tim for even offering.

“For bailing on that stakeout.” 

Jon pauses, and promptly dismisses his guilt. “I was sick! From a cold you gave me, might I add-”

“Technicalities.” Tim waves a dismissive hand. “C’mon. Do me a favor. Let your boyfriend save the day. Please?” He does his best impression of a kicked puppy, and Jon’s almost afraid he’ll go down on his knees to complete the look.

“Fine,” he sighs, ignoring the answering cheer. “If you must. But how are you going to-”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Tim winks, jumping up from his seat and throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Leave it to me. Finish those up, and I’ll be back before you know it.” He’s already halfway through the door before Jon can say thank you, and only pauses to call back “Have Sasha check for typos! Love you!”

Jon scowls at the snickers that follow this statement, and turns back to his screen. The numbers blurred together, and he’s pretty sure he’s subtracted when he should’ve added. It’s a wonder he ever gets these done at all. 

“Sasha? Can you look at this for me?”

_________

Tim promptly comes back with coffee (which Jon knows he hates) and cronuts, dropping one off at Jon’s desk. “She won’t be able to resist,” he promises with a peck to Jon’s cheek. “When you see us in the hallway, that’s your cue!”

In spite of himself, he starts to feel a little excited. Tim’s exuberance is contagious, and while not as thrilling as an investigation, Jon’s not above a bit of petty revenge. Not even revenge, really, more justice for the pain and suffering of his bank account. And not ten minutes later, Tim and Rosie are chatting amicably as they walk past the library, cronuts in hand. He feels the slightest bit of envy at how easily Tim can make friends, but tamps it down as he tiptoes up the stairs and over to Rosie’s desk. Elias’s door is thankfully closed.

And her desk is...empty. Immaculate. Nothing but a tiny notepad and her usual knickknacks, not a paper in sight. Fuck. Had she already given them to Elias? Is Jon too late? Did Tim waste money on coffee and cronuts for nothing? Calm down, he tells himself, willing his heart to slow. Just...have a look around. 

He tries not to feel too guilty as he rummages through her mail trays and under her place mat. There’s nothing too personal, though he averts his eyes at a list entitled New Year, New Intentions.  It’s when he finally turns to the drawers that he sees it- the corner of a file folder, sticking out of the bottom drawer. Please be it, please be it. He tugs it out, wincing at the small tear it causes and aha! He’s found it. A pile of neatly clipped expense reports is nestled inside, and all he needs to do is stick his in the middle where she can’t see and he’ll be fine-

“Jon?”

The voice startles him so badly he lets out a little yelp, the folder flying from his hands and papers littering the floor around him. He puts a hand on his chest to calm his racing heart and turns around to find Elias, who’s just caught him snooping through his secretary’s desk like a little thief. Jon didn’t even hear the door open. Oh god. I’m fucked. I’m fired.

“I-um, h-hello! Elias.” He gives an awkward little wave and immediately curses himself for doing it. It’s like he’s suddenly forgotten what normal people do with their hands. “I was just...looking for a pen. T-To write Rosie. A note.” 

“A note.” Elias raises one eyebrow, and it’s clear he doesn’t believe a word coming out of Jon’s mouth. To be fair, Jon wouldn’t either. When put on the spot, Jon can’t lie to save his life. “And this file…?” He bends down to pick up the folder clearly marked ‘Expenses’ in bold, black print. Jon winces.

“It...fell out?”

“Oh, Jon.” Elias tuts, and Jon refrains from full body flinching. He has a particular hatred of being scolded, and especially by Elias, of all people. The man he’s desperate to impress, who holds his job in his hands. “There’s no need for the ruse. Deadlines aren’t exactly your strong suit, are they?”

“No,” he mumbles, the words barely audible as he struggles to meet Elias’s eyes. He loves having his flaws pointed out to him. Loves it. “I’m sorry.”

“However, you do fine work.” Jon blinks and there it is- a rare, indulgent smile. It’s incongruous with those strange, cold eyes, but it makes Jon feel better all the same. “You’re one of our best researchers. But if you want to move up in the world, timeliness is of the utmost importance, yes?”

“Y-Yes,” Jon stammers, nodding his head up and down like a puppet. Move up in the world? Jon’s never considered himself ‘promotion material,’ but the thought that Elias thinks it possible fills him with excitement. You do fine work, he said. Fine work! “I’ll do my best.”

“Of course.” Elias offers the folder to Jon’s trembling hands, and gives him a conspiratorial smile. “This, however, can be our little secret, hm? I believe I saw Rosie and Mr. Stoker in the break room, but I think they’ll be back any minute. Best to tidy up before she notices.”

Jon can’t help the beam that spreads across his face. “T-Thank you, Elias. Really. It won’t happen again-”

“I know it won’t.” Elias gives him a brisk nod, suddenly all business, and turns back to his office, shutting the door briskly behind him without another word. Jon takes that as his cue to scurry across the floor, grabbing up the papers as frantically as possible while taking care not to crumple them further. It takes him a few moments, but he manages to get them in order and tucks his own into the pile. He places it carefully in the drawer he found it in, corner sticking out just as before. No Rosie in sight. Thank god.

With that, he bolted. Best not to be spotted anywhere near the scene of the crime. 

______

“Did it work?” Tim rushes into the library, talking entirely too loudly and plopping down on Jon’s desk, sending pens flying. Jon chooses to ignore this. “I brought Rosie her favorites, gave up my choicest gossip to get her out of that seat. Told her if Elias overheard he’d go mental.” Tim pauses to consider this. “Actually, that might’ve been true. It involves a copier and a certain someone-”

“It worked,” Jon quickly cuts him off. He doesn’t need any more info on whatever...that was. “Thank you. But Elias caught me.” Tim looks at him incredulously, as if surprised he survived the encounter. “And he was...okay with it? I mean, he told me it couldn't happen again, but he said ’it’s our little secret.”

Tim blanches at the words. “What?”

“He also said I did fine work,” Jon admits shyly. “I didn’t know he paid attention to me, but-”

“Hang on, ‘our little secret’? Fine work!?” Tim shrieks and Jon hurriedly shushes him, looking anxiously around the library. No one pays attention, used to their antics by now. “What’s that supposed to be, a euphemism?”

“A euphemism? What on earth could that be a euphemism for?”

“I don’t know!” Tim waves a hand around dramatically, and he actually looks a bit put out. Is he...jealous? Jon can’t help the small smirk and Tim notices it right away. “Don’t give me that! I don’t like the way he looks at you. Sasha’s noticed too. It’s downright creepy.”

“The grey is a bit disconcerting, I’ll give you that.”

“It doesn’t match his face! Weird, right?”

“Anyway,” Jon says, eager to cut off yet another tangent. “Your plan worked.”

“Not really.” Tim pouts, kicking his feet out like a toddler and turning away with his arms crossed. Only Tim can manage to make the petulant look work on a twenty-eight year old man.

“Yes, really!” Tim doesn’t turn around and Jon internally rolls his eyes, albeit fondly. “Look, I’ll get my check next Friday with everyone else. And then I’ll take you out to dinner. How does that sound?”

That did it. Tim tilts his head towards him, gives him a playful smile. “Gonna romance me, Sims? Pull out all the stops?”

Jon returns it. “All the second-rate sushi you want.”

“You’re a prince among men.” Tim hops off his desk and gives his forehead a kiss. Jon’s partial to those kisses and he can feel himself melting at the touch, even as his smile turns wicked.

“I could ask Elias if he’s free as well-” 

He doesn’t manage to dodge the pen that flies his way, but he doesn’t mind. Jealousy’s not a bad look on Tim.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30103509

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

The Helping Hand

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Word Count: 2000 approx

A/n: I will try to finish part 2 during the week maybe Wednesday or Thursday. I did change what happens in the movie but it will call make sense I promise. See you soon!

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.8

Chapter 9: Civil War Pt.1

Ch.10

Secretary Ross what a bitch. I mean you save the world you'd expect a thanks maybe a parade or something, but no. Instead they ask you to legally give up your rights, your anonymity basically all you value. "We can't seriously consider signing this." Steve spat out. "You're being Hyper nonverbal." Nat points tony out. "That's because he's already decided." Steve points out calmly. "I can't sign… I won't sign the accords." You mutter out quietly. "I'm not even an official part of the 'team'. I don't even have a hero name." Pietro chuckles giving you an approving nod. 

Nat brings you and Pietro back to reality. "You were still there." She points out matter of factly. "Either way that does not change that we have made some very public mistakes." She continues. "We need to be put in check." Tony states. "If we don't do it now they will do it to us later and they won't be asking nicely." He says. "I agree it's better to keep one hand on the wheel, than letting go completely." You're honestly not listening at this point anymore. You jump back in after Visions statistics. "My friends are dead because of you." You point out. 

"You blame Wanda for an accident. When I saw your effect on Sokovia way before you blew it up." You mention spitefully. "If you want to sign because you feel guilty go ahead. I'm not being forced into this..." Tony sighs hurt by your comments' brutal honesty. "I'm just trying to protect Wanda." He says looking at you. "Too little too late… where were you when she was in Lagos." This is when Wanda steps in. "Just calm down okay… Just- lets just hear him out." She says looking at you. "Either we have her here with her brother or they become government property." He continues. "You can't just not sign… think about everything you'll lose." Steve jumps in again. "If we sign, we lose our chance to choose. We work under our own authority now, but people have agendas and you know that better than anyone." Steve points out.

Tony and Steve go at it for a minute when he abruptly leaves. Soon you find out why… Peggy passed. You and Nat flew out to be with him for a moment. After which he told you he was not signing the accords. "Wish you the best Captain Rogers." Is what you said. You hesitated but pulled him into a hug. "If you ever need anything talk to me… I'll do my best to help you out." You tell him and he hugs you back. Nat convinced you to fly to Vienna with her and sign the accords there. So you did and regretted it not long after you arrived. It was a complete bore fest. You let Nat do her own thing and you just walked around like a lost puppy until something called your attention. You rush back to her immediately. "Nat, something's wrong, something is very wrong." You repeat then you look out the window confirming your theory. "EVERYBODY GET DOWN" you yell as you leap on Natasha. She's about to reprimand you for causing a scene when the whole building shakes.

It was a blur and everything hurts. You stand up and all you can hear is ringing and a faint voice. As you stand you hear your name faintly Natasha is calling you but there's something else. Your head begins to throb. The voice it's clear now. It's repeating words. "Zhelanie, rzhavyy, Semndtsat', Rassvet, Pech', Devgat', Dobroserdechnyy, Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu, Odin', Gruzovoy Vagon." You grab your head to try and steady yourself. But the voice gets louder and then you recognize it. "Don't believe what you see… dig deeper Y/n. It wasn't him." Then you're pulled out of your daze by Nat standing before you. "Y/n are you okay?" She asks worried. You only nod turning your head and noticing that somehow you made your way outside. "I umm- I need you to call tony and tell him it happened again." You say calmly she nods and takes off to make the call. As she did that you called Steve. "Yes, Steve I'm fine we're fine… but you need to listen to me."

He was scared and the news spread like wildfire. "It wasn't him… Steve it wasn't him." He's quiet. "How do you know?" You sigh. "I just do Steve okay. I believe in you alright. But you can't look for him. If you find him the rest will find him. Keep your distance a week two tops just listen to me please." You plead with him he eventually sighs. "I'm trusting you Y/n" you sigh in relief. You hang up when Nat begins to walk back to you. "Tony is sending a Plane." She mentions looking around them fixing her sight on you. "How did you know something was going to happen?" Her voice nearly a whisper. You shake your head. "Y/n you told me something was wrong very wrong at least 30 seconds before the bombs went off."

"I-i don't know Nat something felt wrong… off then I looked out the window." You say trying to piece together your thoughts. "Lets go… let me drop you off at the airport." She says helping you up. The drive was quiet and uncomfortable. She wasn't sure she believed you, she saw that you called someone. Her walls were up and your answers were not helping that. She helped you board the plane and said her goodbyes and walked out. The ride was quiet what you wanted. But those words kept circling your mind. You couldn't have heard them more than three times but they were burnt into your mind. Vision and then twins were waiting for you when you landed. "Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner will not get here in a couple of days." You nod taking your time getting off.

"Are you okay?" Pietro asks when you trip down the last step. You shake your head. "I'm just tired, plus it's not everyday that you live through an explosion." You chuckle. "I just need some rest." You finish. Your sleep was not as peaceful as you'd like. Your head kept going back to that state of limbo the same words repeating over and over again. In the morning you're feeling well enough and make your way down to the kitchen. You weren't surprised when you found the Maximoff twins already up and going. "Good morning" you say as you walk up to them noticing Vision floating in a corner. "Good morning do you feel better?" Wanda asks as she flips a pancake. You nod watching Pietro chop vegetables extremely fast. Wanda clears her throat catching your attention. "Your thoughts were very loud last night…" 

"Oh my Wanda I am so sorry if I kept you up." You begin apologizing but she cuts you short. "It's fine I only brought it up because I can hear them… they are there, but I can read them?" She says questioning whether or not you understood. You nod. "Did it happen again?" She asks, worry filling her eyes. "I-i don't know how to explain it. Yesterday I felt something was off. I heard a voice after the explosion." You mention trying to wrap your head around the situation. "It was repeating these words. I can't stop thinking about them." You finish off. She gives you a confused look. "Bruce said it's kinda like the green guy… It keeps me alive." 

"Is that why I can't read you anymore?" She blurts out. "I don't know probably." You shrug. "Nat, she doesn't believe me… I saw it in her eyes." You mention quietly. Pietro rushes over to you and puts his arm around you, messing with your hair. "Well we believe you, isn't that right?" He looks at Wanda and she nods. He has to throw a piece of fruit at Vision. "Yes, I think there is something to your condition." He mentions a smile growing on his face… Or what you think he thinks is a smile. It causes everyone to break out into laughter. After that you and the twins have a nice couple of days hanging out and living in some type of normalcy. You would watch the Dik Van Dyke show and Bewitched per Wanda's request and then one night something was off again. "Wanda… something's off. It's different." Is the last thing you manage to say before Vision rushes over to your side. This time the threat was internal… your heart. 

"Y/n to my understanding your heart is going into cardiac arrest. Stop fighting your mind, it will protect you." He mentions. You clutch your chest and let your mind loose. "Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner have been informed and will be here soo…'' is all your hear before you black out. You're in and put at one point you think you see Bruce but you're not sure. Then you're back in that white tundra and she's there waiting for you with a warm smile on her face. "Why do we keep meeting like this?" You ask as you run towards her. "It's you…" Is all she says hugging you. "Yes, who else would it be." You say playfully. She chuckles but she shakes her head. "It's you we meet on your terms. You only let me in when your guard is down." She steps back. "Are your okay?" She asks cautiously. "I really hope so." You say honestly taking a seat on the floor. "That's not what I meant… I-i um I had to give you a push in Vienna." She sits next to you. "That was you! Of course that makes sense. What do they mean." She smiles. "You'll figure it out… I know you will." She says again and you lay your head on her lap. She runs her fingers through your hair humming. "How long can I stay here with you like this?" You ask with your eyes closed. "As long as your want monkey."

"Where is she, is she okay? What the hell happened?" Tony burst into the compound the anger masking how scared he was. "Dr. Cho is in there right now and she's stable. She's almost done. Dr. Banner is assisting" Vision answers Tony calms down slightly turning to the twins. "What the hell happened?" They both shrug and Pietro speaks up. "You should ask her." He says his head nodding towards Nat. Tony makes a double take when Steve and Sam walk out behind her. Natasha walks up to them "What happened?" Tony only signs "That seems to be the Billion Dollar question." Wanda jumps back in. "She said something was off… something happened in Vienna." Now Pietro get defensive and jumps in to back his sister. "She said you didn't believe her." Tony turns to Nat. "Did she tell you this?"

"What was I supposed to believe Tony… she knew a building was going to explode before it did." Tony is now pacing. "She told you something was wrong… MY DAUGHTER told you something was wrong, that something was wrong with her. And you didn't think to tell me!" Natasha is left speechless and so is everyone else. That's when Dr. Cho walks back into the waiting room. "The surgery was a success and we replaced the damaged heart. She should wake up in a couple of hours depending as their medications wear off." She says not noticing the tension. Tony sighs in relief and Dr. Cho walks off. Tony points at Natasha. "You will stay away from her agent Romanoff." With that he walks off. 

It had been more than a few hours. It had been days and you hadn't woken up. "What is happening to her?" Tony hadn't left your side. Everyone had stopped by everyday their hopes diminished. Bruce calls him over and makes him take a seat. "Tony we have to wake her up soon!" He nods. "Of course we do!" He says looking at Bruce shake his head. "Her medical directives legally bind us to remove all life sustaining measures after two weeks."

[cartasmojadas]

DirkJohn HS AU, confessions....part 5?

‐‐‐‐‐

In hindsight, John should have checked in with Rose first. It doesn’t occur to him until he is out of breath pedaling up the last hill to Dirk’s house, that Dirk might not even be home. 

He stops to catch his breath under the light of the streetlamp and pats his pockets in search of his phone. 

“Are you freakin' kidding me?” he frowns and remembers he left his phone charging at his desk. 

Doubt and dread prickle his skin for a moment before John shakes his head and hops back onto his bike. It's a character trait at this point; John Egbert finishes what he starts.

He walks the last two blocks and hopes that the cold spring air helps calm him down and maybe will cool him off enough that he doesn’t show up covered in sweat. 

When he arrives at the Strider-Lalonde home, John recognizes the family car but not the second one in the driveway-- he wonders if maybe he's show up at a bad time and if he'll end up making a mess of his confession in front of guests.

But as John approaches the lit window, he can see Mr.Vantas is sitting on the couch doing what looks like grading while Dave is sprawled out next to him with his head on his lap. 

John bites down on his lip and quietly changes his course from the front door to the side of the house. He already feels nervous and would rather avoid the awkwardness of running into his teachers being all lovey. 

As soon as John sees the soft orange light coming through Dirk’s window, his stomach flips and flops. 

He takes a deep breath and taps on the window. None of this feels familiar. Even though Dirk has climbed through Dirk’s window many times, John has always felt most comfortable walking through the front door. 

His stomach is in knots as he stands at the window in search of movement. 

 John’s hand shakes as he taps again. Three slow taps and then five quick taps to follow. 

He hopes Dirk remembers their old hideout code. 

The stillness continues. 

John is ready to accept that the universe has sent him countless warnings against John’s current course of action when he sees a shadow move quickly behind the curtain. 

A moment later Dirk has pulled back the fabric and stares at John with surprise. 

Dirk’s hair is wet, like he just got out of the shower, and his exposed face looks young and nervous. 

As ridiculous as it is to admit it to himself, John feels an overwhelming sense of confidence surge from deep within his chest as he makes eye contact with Dirk.

There is no doubt in John’s mind that the honey colored eyes watching him are filled with the same hodgepodge of feelings he has for Dirk. 

“Where the hell have you been?” John bursts as soon as Dirk slides the window open. 

Dirk blinks, “I was getting ready for bed?” 

“And you came to the window exposed and opened the window to someone who could have been a murder? Those are some unsafe practices, bro.”

Some of the tension in Dirk’s shoulders drops and he rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. Let me open the front door-- .”

“No!” John insists. “I am going to climb in.”

“Why?”

John shrugs, “I know you like the drama?”

Dirk’s cheeks burn bright red. He tries to hide his face from John who can only blush along with him.

The screen pops off with a quick snap and John grins at Dirk while he motions for him to step back. 

The last time John tried to climb through this window he was in 6th grade during a game of hide and seek that came to a quick end when Dirk discovered John stuck on the window sill. 

But one of John’s best events in Track and Field is hurdling.

It’s too wide of a hurdle for John to cover but he is able to push himself up and fall into the bedroom head first. 

“Jesus christ, you have about as much grade as Vantas after a glass of wine,” Dirk offers his hand to John who takes it. 

He hopes Dirk won’t notice how clammy his hands are and tugs Dirk down to sit on the floor with him. 

Dirk hesitates and tries to pull back but John holds his hand firmly and tugs on him again. 

Once they are both on the floor, facing each other with their legs crossed the same way they have always done, they take turns clearing their throats before Dirk finally speaks. 

“So, is there a reason you needed to come climb into my room a quarter ‘till midnight? On a school night?”

John hasn’t let go of Dirk’s hand even though it feels like it is searing his skin. 

“I have your oranges.”

“What?”

“You were supposed to visit my island today and trade oranges for peaches.”

Dirk frowns and tries to pull his hand back. John tightens his grip.

“Are you talking about animal crossing?”

John nods. “It’s Wednesday. You always come over on Wednesday. I left my gate open all afternoon.”

Dirk drops his gaze and lets his hand go lips. 

John doesn’t miss Dirk’s shaky breathing. 

“Dirk, have you been avoiding me?” John asks the question softly-- he already knows the answer.

“I’ve been busy, dude.” Dirk can barely mask his lack of confidence. 

John hums, “So me coming out didn’t make you uncomfortable?”

Dirk’s eyes lock back onto John.

“John--”

He can already sense a lecture from Dirk coming up. 

“No, wait--” John drops the hand he is holding and brings his hands up to hold Dirk’s face. 

Dirk takes in a sharp breath on contact. 

John’s stomach flips again. 

“Dirk. I like you. A lot.”

Something like a whimper gurgles in the back of Dirk’s throat. 

“I thought I was being pretty obvious about it with all of the making out and uh, some of the other stuff we’ve done,” John sputters and has to look away for a second.

“And if you like me too, I would really like to take you to prom.”

Dirk pushes John back and scrambles across the room. 

“Don’t!” John winces at his own volume, “Don’t, please. Fuck, Dirk-- talk to me?”

Dirk runs a hand through his hair with desperation. 

“This is a bad idea, Egbert. Really bad.”

“Why?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“So what, you’re my best friend too.”

“You’re confused.”

“Not anymore.”

Dirk shakes his head.

“Do-- Do you not like me back?”

Dirk freezes and his eyes become comically wide. 

“Dirk, I like you. I like-like you.”

John slowly scotts his way across the floor toward Dirk. 

Once he’s within reach, John takes Dirk’s hands. 

“You’re being reckless,” Dirk says.

“Dirk, bro, I think this is probably the most calculated decision I have ever made in my almost 17 years of life.”

Dirk huffs, “I already told Jane I would be her date to prom.”

John groans. He knows what Dirk is trying to do. 

“Okay, then let me be fucking clear--”

John finds sudden firmness and clarity in his voice. He can almost feel the shiver that runs down Dirk’s spine. 

“Dirk Strider,” John swallows hard, “Will you be my boyfriend? And maybe drop my sister as your date and take me instead?”

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found - 8

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: Happy Wednesday! I hope your week is going well so far, enjoy this update! Let me know your thoughts!

Chapter 8. Face Yourself

series masterlist

“You know, I kind of expected to see you again.” Christina leads me into her home, waiting for me to remove my shoes before walking further into the house. It has an industrial look to it, giving off a generally cold feeling. Something about it though makes the house feel warm.

It’s probably Christina. Despite not being overjoyed to see me, she still emits a friendly aura. That is, until Elle decides to hop out and snoop about.

“Er…” Christina rubs her nose harshly, eyeing my cat. “I’m actually pretty allergic to cats…”

I launch into action, scooping Elle up in my arms even though she protests with a pitiful hiss. “I’m so sorry, if I’d have known-”

“It’s not your fault,” Christina replies, gesturing toward a familiar gray door. “Are you alright with leaving your cat in the warehouse while we chat?”

Nodding, I walk over and pry the door open. A blast of cool air hits me, taking my breath away and resulting in a sigh of long-suffering from Elle. Christina reaches into the warehouse, flicking on the light and the heat.

“Would your cat like...um...a bowl of milk? To sip on while she waits?”

I can’t help but smile at Christina’s offer. Glancing down at Elle, I watch the way her tail flicks back and forth as she wanders about the warehouse. “That would be great, actually.”

Once Elle has been taken care of and Christina has moved us to her kitchen, I allow myself to recall the events of a couple weeks ago. I’m passed a mug of apple cider, heart aching at the similarities from before.

Christina offers me a seat on one of the stools, standing on the opposite side of the island. She takes a long sip of the cider, a faraway look in her eyes. I wonder if she’s remembering the last time we shared a drink together.

When I told her who my soulmate was, and she suddenly became very, very quiet.

“So what brings you back here?” Christina asks, finally breaking the memory-laden silence. I look at the mug in my hands for a long moment, collecting my thoughts.

“I…” my vision clouds over for a moment, and I take a deep breath. Once the tears have receded, I try again. “I’ve been told to come to terms with my actions. With all that I’ve done wrong.”

“To make it right?” Christina asks, her expression betraying nothing of her innermost thoughts. “Because like I said, I don’t do refunds. Can’t, actually.”

I finally look up at Christina, really looking at her for the first time.

Her hair is dark and thick, falling below her ribcage. It’s long. Today it’s down, lightly curled.

It makes her look soft. Normal.

So at odds with her choice in profession.

“No,” I respond. “No, not that. I’ve been instructed to...to forgive myself…?”

Christina blinks, resting her elbows against the countertop. “You don’t sound very convinced.”

“That’s probably because I’m not.”

Nodding along, Christina looks down at her hands. She begins to trace the lines in her palms, allowing herself a moment to think. After a few heartbeats, she looks back up at me. “It sounds like you’re seeing someone about this,” she points to my left hand that I have wrapped around the mug. The cut thread hangs there, barely touching the top of the island.

“I am.”

“A trained professional?”

“Yes.”

She lets out what appears to be a sigh of relief. “Good.” Flicking her hair over her shoulder - how did I never notice how long her hair is? - she furrows her brows ever so slightly. “So...why are you here? Not that I want you to leave, I’m just a little confused. Isn’t this place...aren’t I a part of your problem?”

I blink, letting her words sink in. “Christina, you’re not a problem to be fixed.”

An indescribable emotion flickers across her face, but it’s gone before I can put a name to it. Instead she straightens up, moving to put the apple cider back in the fridge. “Then explain to me just what you plan to do here today.”

With her back turned to me I have no idea what she’s thinking or if I’ve already overstepped my bounds, but I venture on. “Well...I don’t really get it. You know, the forgiving part. I’ve heard about it a lot, sure. I guess I just don’t have a lot of practice in it, though.” Christina turns back around, resuming her spot across the island from me. “And it just seemed to me like maybe you do, I guess.”

She’s back to tracing her palm now, absorbing my request. Slowly, she tilts her head to one side, looking at me with unadulterated curiosity. “You want me to teach you how to forgive yourself?”

I nod hesitantly, hoping it’s the right answer. Christina scoffs, a challenge in her eyes.

“How can I teach you about forgiveness when it’s clear you don’t want to forgive yourself?”

“W-what-”

“You want me to explain it to you step by step? It isn’t something that you can just check off of a to-do list, Jolie. I need you to understand that.” Christina rises up to her full height, running her hands through her hair. “You can’t just move through the motions and hold yourself up to the list of qualifications for forgiveness and hope you make it. Because you won’t. Every single time, you will fall short. We all do. And it really sucks, but it’s true. How do you think people find it in them to forgive themselves when they’re completely aware of just how much they’re lacking?”

My heart hammers, the truthfulness in her words pounding into me like an anvil. At a loss, my mouth simply opens and closes like a fish. She sees my dilemma, raising her eyebrows.

“Because they care.” Christina lets out a deep breath, her eyes never leaving my face. I feel absolutely naked before her, all of my flaws laid out like a buffet. It’s impossible for me to move, to run away, though. I can hardly breathe as is. She continues on, a fire in her eyes.

“They care enough about themselves to know that even though they will never meet the expectations laid out for them, they deserve to be forgiven.” Christina’s voice comes out thick with emotion, unshed tears welling up in her eyes. “And that is what you lack, Jolie. You want to suffer. You want to use the pain that’s building up inside of you as some sort of way to atone for what you’ve done. But it doesn’t work like that.”

Sitting there at Christina’s kitchen island, the words hanging in the air above me, I can’t find it in me to lie. Not when this woman stands before me, battle-worn from life and still fighting, would know in an instant.

I can’t lie to myself anymore.

Eyes falling to my mug of apple cider, I see myself reflected in its murky contents. My own pitiful, broken self staring back at me.

“I’m so tired of lying to myself,” I whisper. I hardly notice Christina coming around the island and taking up a spot beside me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

When I finally find it in me to look at her, I see nothing but calm understanding.

Like she knows. Like she’s been here before, in some capacity. Judging from the severed thread she sports, chances are she knows exactly what sort of heart-wrenching pain is wracking my soul right now.

With a soft, heart-broken smile, Christina whispers back, “Then start with the truth.”

✂

“Honestly, she’s a fool for not texting you back. That last text you sent was gold.” Jin stares at an unopened box of churros, rubbing his belly before leaning forward to pry it open. “Pure gold, I tell you.”

“Yeah,” Jimin cringes as he watches Jin take a bite of the churro. They’ve eaten to the point of stomach-aches. “That’s because you wrote it.”

“Exactly.”

Jimin’s cell phone sits in the middle of the table, under constant surveillance by the seven boys. An hour has passed since he sent off the last text to Jolie; a quip about how Elle must have taken pity on him.

When he hadn’t received a message within the first two minutes, he’d wanted to send something else. Taehyung had stopped him, ordering him to eat and breathe for a few minutes. What had begun as a temporary distraction had now dragged on for far too long, in Jimin’s opinion.

With dread in his stomach, he asks, “What if she’s freaked out about texting a guy so soon after everything? She’s probably not in a place to even think about talking with other guys. Do you think she’s ghosting me?”

This makes even Jin pause in his act of gorging himself, swallowing harshly and launching himself into a coughing fit. Jungkook slaps him on the back, frowning.

“No…” the maknae protests weakly. “She wouldn’t ghost you...would she?”

“Well, she doesn’t really have the best track record when it comes to me,” Jimin jokes, the attempt falling flat as everyone sullenly agrees.

Sighing, Taehyung grabs Jimin’s phone and extends it to him. “What are you gonna say?”

Unlocking his phone, Jimin sighs heavily. “Erm...apologize for the lame joke?”

“Hey!” Jin feigns offense, taking an angry bite of his churro.

“Good move,” Taehyung whispers. Jimin chuckles, pulling up the text conversation. Once he types out the message, he shows it to his members. They all agree, although Jin does so a little sulkily.

“Ok and...sent.”

Me: Sorry for the dumb joke...I guess it wasn’t as funny as I initially thought 😅

Jimin sets the phone back down on the edge of the table, struggling to stomp down on the hope growing in his chest. No matter what he does, he can’t stop seeing Jolie in his mind. The way she smiled at Elle, hauling her groceries up to her apartment.

How can his soulmate live so close to him and yet still be so far away?

Namjoon groans as he sits up, looking at an email he just received on his phone. Hobi frowns, reading over his shoulder.

“What is it?” Jimin asks. Namjoon and Hobi share a look before seemingly coming to an agreement.

“It’s just another message from Bang PD,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing his face. “Fans are still...freaking out about everything.”

Jimin blinks, having almost forgotten about the outside world for a moment. “What are they doing?”

“They’re just convinced that Bighit is hiding your soulmate, trying to control the situation. Some of them are fine with it, but there’s a significant amount that are offended.”

“Mainly offended because they think that you don’t trust them enough to still show up to our events,” Yoongi clarifies, giving the younger boy an apologetic smile. Jimin’s eyes become glazed over, mind running rampant with what people must be saying about him.

Hobi jumps in, hating to see that look on Jimin’s face. “But we’re taking the ‘no comment’ route, remember? So they’ll just have to sit tight until you’re ready to come back.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Namjoon speaks again. “Bang PD is just a little worried about our upcoming muster. You know, about fan’s reactions when you aren’t there and-”

“I’ll come.”

Everyone looks to Jimin in pure shock, Taehyung immediately jumping in. “No, it’ll be fine Jiminie, really. You don’t need to come. It’s only been two weeks, take more time.”

Jimin hardly even blinks. “And the muster is in...what, five days? That’s about three weeks of a break for me. I can’t just sit around like this anymore, you guys. I’m losing it.”

Jungkook speaks up from where he’d been quietly sitting beside Jin. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you need to jump back into full concert mode. That’s too much to ask of yourself.”

Everyone seems inclined to agree, already nodding their heads. Jimin sees his window of opportunity closing, and takes a shot before it’s gone.

“One song.” Jimin scoots onto the edge of the sofa, running a hand through his hair. “Just let me do one song with you guys. Enough to let everyone see me, that I’m alright. That they don’t need to...worry about me hiding a soulmate from them.”

“I don’t know, Jimin…” Namjoon begins, twirling his phone in his hands. “It’s probably going to be really intense, and once you get out there you can never go back to the peace you’ve got right now. People will be practically knocking down our door to get answers.”

“I know. Just...I want to see them.” Glancing down at his phone which still hasn’t received a text back, Jimin sighs. “Just one song. I can’t hide forever. And I don’t think I want to.”

Namjoon begrudgingly agrees to bring it up with Bang PD, not promising anything. Either way, Jimin lets out a sigh of relief at the thought of possibly getting to perform soon. Despite the certain problems that are bound to follow, at least he can hold a mic again. See Army.

He’s not completely sure if it’s the right time, but it feels like the right step. Staring at his phone and praying for it to light up with a message from his soulmate, Jimin voices his thoughts aloud.

“I think she needs to know that she hasn’t wrecked my life beyond repair, you know?” Reaching forward, he flips his phone so he can no longer see the screen. “I can live with the pain.”

✂

“Just because you can survive the pain doesn’t mean you should consign yourself to a life full of it.”

Christina is on her second mug of apple cider, the smell of blueberry muffins permeating the air in the living room. We moved here to a little while ago, Christina deeming this conversation worthy of her comfy couches.

I nod along with wide eyes, almost wishing that I had a notebook with me. The way that Christina speaks to me makes me want to write down every word.

Pure honesty. That’s what it is.

“Can I ask what made you get into this business?” I ask, suddenly needing to know more about what made Christina the way that she is.

A dark cloud intercepts Christina’s kind gaze, and she chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “I...it’s a long story.”

“Do I look like I have a life?” My comment earns me a sharp chuckle from Christina, who gets into a more comfortable position on the couch. The grays and white undertones of the room makes the small fire in the fireplace pop out all the more.

“Good point. Either way, I’m not a very big fan of going into too much detail where my story is concerned.” Setting her mug down on the coffee table, she takes a deep breath in before letting it out. “Long story short...I met my soulmate. Fell in love with him, actually.”

My eyes instinctively fall to her cut thread, my stomach knotting up with whatever dreadful fact is coming next.

“What I considered to be a pure, beautiful relationship turned into something like Stockholm Syndrome. My soulmate he...he believed that I was his, and only his. He slowly cut off all communication with my family, my friends. At first I didn’t notice what he was doing, but when I came to my senses...let’s just say I did everything in my power to get out.”

I remain frozen in my seat, heart nearly stopping. “Christina, that’s horrible.”

“It was. But the moral of the story is that I got out. I got help. And in turn, I help others the only way I know how.” She glances down at my left hand, something like regret lingering there in her eyes. “I don’t usually ask my clients any questions. I know when I was running and trying to cut my thread, the last thing I wanted was to bring up my history. However, with you...I wish I would’ve asked.”

It stings, but it makes sense. I fidget a little in my seat, twirling my thread around my finger. “Would you have turned me away if you knew the truth?”

Christina sits quietly for a moment, chewing on the question. “I definitely would have tried to get you to think it through a bit more. Maybe I would have turned you away, I don’t know. If I’d have known that Park Jimin was on the other end of that string....I don’t know if I would have been able to stomach doing that to him.”

I nod. It would appear that in my desperation, I’d forgotten that my decisions would harm more people than just those directly connected to the thread around my finger.

“I’m assuming you’re a fan?” I ask a little drily. Like flicking on a switch, Christina’s eyes light up.

“Oh, absolutely. But especially of Jimin.” I feel my eyebrows arch, a fresh wave of guilt sluicing through me. Christina doesn’t begin to curse me, though. “You know his song ‘Promise’? On those days after I’d cut the thread and felt my will slipping, like I might go back to my soulmate after everything he’d done to me...I’d listen to that song. I’d promise myself over and over again that I wouldn’t throw it all away. I guess you could say that, in a way, he saved me.”

The fire pops and hisses in the fireplace, filling the temporary silence. Christina grabs her mug, taking another sip before realizing that it’s empty. She gets up, excusing herself while she goes to the kitchen to get some more cider.

Alone in the small living room, I stare at that fire while different thoughts vie for my attention. Watching the flames, I stumble upon another truth. One that blasts a door open on my understanding of the past two weeks. Of what drove me here, to Christina’s, on that fateful night. Thread in tow, begging for it to be cut.

Jimin creates. He creates beautiful opportunities for people, second chances for people like Christina who so desperately needed one. He’s there, for people he’s never met and never will meet, cheering them on in their endeavors.

And me? I destroy. I’ve always seen that in myself. So when I saw Jimin up on stage that night, completely entranced by him as he bounced around and danced and smiled, I knew that there was a stark difference between us. I could admire that difference, from a distance.

Yet when I saw the way my string followed his ever so slightly...as my eyes traced the thread between us, coming to the same conclusion every time that it was Park Jimin who was on the other side, I believed it to be a mistake.

How could I be paired with someone so good? How could a devil be tied to an angel?

And yet...Christina reenters the room, smiling warmly at me as though I wasn’t the one that made her unknowingly cause harm to one of her idols. It’s Christina, who sits across from me with her third cup of apple cider, that makes me realize that perhaps fate was right all along.

Christina destroys bonds for a living. She destroys seemingly unbreakable bonds, for a price. And what is supposed to be the most horrifying profession of all, comes from a place of sympathy. Of charity.

Perhaps destruction clears the path for creation.

Maybe, just maybe, Park Jimin and I are a perfect match.

✂

The moon has risen by the time Jimin gets a reply. He’s just fallen onto his bed, his hair still wet from his shower, when his phone vibrates.

He nearly rolls off of his bed and onto the floor in an attempt to retrieve his phone, but he manages to stay upright. His heart launches into a frenzy at the sight of Jolie’s name on his phone, and immediately he’s back to replaying the scene of her in his head.

Jolie (Elle): Sorry, I was visiting a friend and lost track of time. And yes, the joke was lame. I’m glad that you can admit it 😂

Jimin chuckles, making a mental note to tell Jin that his joke really was lame. He stares at the screen for a moment longer, struggling to come up with something to reply. Before he can write anything, however, three dots pop up as Jolie types something in.

He stares and stares at those three dots, sucking on his bottom lip. When the text comes through, he lets out a shout of triumph.

Jolie (Elle): Also, I think that Elle misses you. Either that or she’s mad at me for ignoring her

Taking a deep breath, Jimin types out a reply. He rereads it a couple of times before giving in and hitting send.

Me: I’m sure she does. How dare you ignore her? Don’t you know that she’s royalty?

Jolie (Elle): Oh no.

Jolie (Elle): She’s got you wrapped around her finger.

Me: I think you meant paw 😼

Jolie (Elle): This entire conversation is ridiculous, I hope you know that 😂

Huffing out a laugh, Jimin brings his pillow to his chest. Oh, he’s aware of the ridiculous nature of the conversation. But if it’s the only way he can communicate with his soulmate, then so be it.

Me: I’m aware, don’t worry. I’d better let you get some rest. Give Elle some cuddles for me, will you?

A part of him hopes that Jolie will protest, insisting that they talk for longer. However, he gets the next best thing.

A photo of Elle, sitting at the end of a bed and looking at the camera like she’s posing for a portrait. Jolie sends a message a heartbeat later.

Jolie (Elle): She won’t let me touch her right now...she’s still angry 😂 but when she forgives me, I’ll be sure to tell her that the cuddles are from you.

Jolie (Elle): Goodnight!

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Jimin whispers to himself in an attempt to calm his beating heart. He stares at the photo for a moment longer, taking in as much detail as he possibly can. Jolie isn’t in it, but the outline of her legs under the blanket are enough to remind Jimin that this is real. It’s all real.

And he’ll talk to her tomorrow.

Previous - Next

main masterlist

taglist is open! comment/send an ask, or click on the link in the series masterlist!

taglist: @baepsaetay​ @dreamcatcherjiah​ @kookie-vuitton​ @thecaffeinatedscribbles​ @moon-write​ @fangirl125reader​ @heishichoulevi​ @knjkitten​ @sacha-cff​ @vik7797​  @eusticenatalie​ @hesmyphenominiall​ @onewoneman​ @preciouschimine​ @missseoulite​ @marianeamine​ @somewhereinthestarss​ @chubsjmin​ @daydreamerwestwood @010op10​ @4evahevah​ @mawwnsterr​ @hikka-light @biasnation​ @betysotelo18​ @fangirl125reader​  @shhhhsecwet​ @channiespup​ @loudnecktrashrascal​

[girl-with-cat-eyes]

Telling The Parents

Summary: Set directly after Wednesdays. Thomas tells his parents about the baby. Virgil blames himself.

Ships: Thvi

A/N: Part 2 of the Reba au you didn't know you need in your life. This time featuring twice as many asshole parents. Special thanks to @amazon-me-bitches and my lovely qpp @forever-forgotten-angel. This is a sequel to my fic to Wednesdays so if you haven't read that go read that first. It explains a lot. As lovely leave a comment if you like it!

Janus hummed as he fixed breakfast, the sweet and savory smells wafting through the house. He’d always loved cooking and was quite good at it. Pat may have been the one with the restaurant, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t able to make a delicious breakfast. Not to mention it served as a good distraction from life and upcoming discussions. Discussions with his pregnant son and his boyfriend about their baby. Janus sighed as he began warming up making hashbrowns. This was going to be an interesting conversation. 

Two sets of steps came down the stairs. Janus smiled as he saw Emile and Remy, both clad in their school clothes. He handed them each a foil packet with a waffle breakfast sandwich, “Be good at school ok. Your dad will drop you both off and I’ll pick you up from school.”

Remy nodded, “Why doesn’t Virgil have to go to school today?”

“He’s not feeling good today. I’m going to stay home and take care of him.”, It was a half-truth. But it was easier than saying that he wanted to discuss the pregnancy with Virgil and Thomas. And in truth, Virgil probably wasn’t feeling the best after last night’s draining conversation.

Emile pouted, “I wish I was pregnant so I could skip school like Virgil”, Janus blanched. He knew logically that Emile just wanted to miss school, but the thought of this happening again made his heart skip a beat. 

“Well you won't be having kids until you’re 30.”, Emile nodded and grabbed his backpack and lunch before going out to the car with Remy. Janus heard the car pull out of the driveway and got back to work cooking. 

Soon enough he heard Virgil come running downstairs, cursing up a storm as he put on his shoes. “Fuck I’m late. I’m gonna be so late. Shit, where’s my other shoe… Hi dad.”, Janus merely stared.

“I’ll let you get away with those swears just this once. Also, we agreed you’d stay home sick today. Then Thomas, you, and I were going to come up with a plan to tell his parents about the baby.”, Virgil visibly relaxed as he remembered what they discussed.

“Right. I’ll see when he’ll be here.”, Virgil sent a quick message, getting a reply that Thomas would be there in a few minutes. “He’ll be here soon. Is there any reason you’re making that much food?”. In front of Virgil laid several trays with waffles, eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, pastries, a rack of toast, butter, jam, a pitcher of orange juice, and a pot of coffee brewing on the counter. 

Janus shrugged, “You, me, Patton, and Thomas. That’s 4 people. And you’re eating for two. Which makes it 5.”, he answered, not wanting to admit that cooking took his mind off of this upcoming conversation. He poured Virgil a glass of juice, “Drink. The baby will need the nutrients. And you need to eat, I don’t want either of you malnourished.”

Virgil chuckled and sipped his juice, “Overprotective dad mode is now that and overprotective grandpa mode. Good to know.”

Janus huffed, “It is not a crime to want my son and grandchild to be safe and healthy.”, It wasn’t a crime when it was Adelaide who was pregnant either. He shook off the memories, pouring warm maple syrup into a small pitcher. This time would be different, he’d make sure of it. He would take care of Virgil the way that he should have taken care of Adelaide. He’d keep his son safe. 

The front door opened and Patton Thomas both walked in. “I’m back.”, Patton called. He walked into the kitchen, “Thomas is here too. That’s a lot of food Jan.” Thomas nodded in agreement. 

Janus rolled his eyes, “You. me, Thomas, Virgil, Virgil’s baby. 5 people.”, Virgil grabbed plates from a cabinet, “Come on. Make your plates.”. They sat around the table, full plates in front of them. Janus took a bite before speaking again, “So you want to keep the baby as well then Thomas? You want to be in their life. Because I’m going to tell you this now; if you don’t, it will be better for them if you left now than if you bounced in and out of their life.”

Thomas nodded, “I want to be involved. I love Virgil and I love our baby. I want to be the father and partner they both deserve, and I intend to be exactly that. I’d like to marry Virgil. With your permission of course.”

Well, that was good at least. Janus didn’t want Virgil to end up heartbroken. He blinked as he heard the word marriage. His initial reaction was to discourage the marriage until they were older. However, Janus knew that it wouldn’t do any good anyway. His son was stubborn, and if he wanted this nothing would stop him. “Ok. But it’s Virgil’s choice ultimately.’, he looked over at Virgil, who held his hand tightly, “All I can say is that if I were you I would wait until after the baby is born to get married. It’ll be a lot less stress for the both of you. In the meantime just focus on graduating and preparing for the baby.”

Virgil nodded, “You’re supportive of the idea of us having the baby though?”

“Like I told you last night, your father and I will support you.”

Patton nodded from beside him, “We love you both and we want this baby to have a good life.”, he reached out to squeeze Virgil’s arm, “And we’ll help you out so that can happen. We want to help you.” 

“We do.”, Janus refilled his coffee before speaking again, “Have you told your parents yet Thomas?”

“No. There’s one issue.” 

“What is it?”

“My parents don’t exactly know that Virgil and I are in a relationship.”, Janus blinked. That was news to him. As far as he had known, Thomas had told his parents knew that he was in a relationship with Virgil. There had to be something else at play. 

“Why not?”, Thomas looked down and Janus was sure that he could see budding tears. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Great, “Thomas if something is wrong you can tell me, ok? Is there a reason you haven’t told your parents that you’re in a relationship?” “Because,”, Thomas took a deep breath before speaking, “because my Dad said he would kill me if he found out I was gay.”, the silence that followed was deafening. Thomas’ words hung heavily in the air like smog. Janus’s heart leaped into his throat. God, he should have known. He looked at Thomas. His head was hung low, shame apparent on his face.

Patton looked close to tears, “Oh Thomas.”, he got up and hugged the boy. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You shouldn’t have to go through that.”

Janus nodded, “And you’re not going to go through it anymore, ok.” He swallowed, mind already made up, “You can live with us.”. Thomas and Virgil both looked at him in shock. 

“Really?”, Thomas asked in a whisper. 

He nodded, “Of course. It’ll probably be better with the baby anyway.”, he gave Thomas a hug. “And we’d love to have you here, ok? You’re a good kid. You don’t deserve this.”  He pulled back and sat back down, “Here’s the plan. We’re going to finish breakfast because both of you deserve a good meal. Then Thomas and I will take the SUV and get his stuff from his parents’ house. Meanwhile, Virgil and Patton make room for your stuff. Then when we get back, I’ll go pick up Emile and Remy and pick up a pizza and we can unpack.” 

They both nodded and went back to eating. Janus sighed and poured himself some more coffee. He was going to need it today. Thomas spoke quietly from across from him, “Thank you for letting me stay here sir. I just want to do right by Virgil and our baby.” 

“You don’t have to call me sir, ok? Janus is fine. And I would let you move in regardless after that news. You shouldn’t feel unsafe in your home like this.”, Thomas smiled and looked down. Janus’ heart ached for the kid. These two kids were going to have a baby. If he didn’t know better, Janus would think to just take him to an abortion clinic regardless of what he wanted. But he knew Virgil. And Virgil was incredibly stubborn. If he didn’t think his family would support the idea he and Thomas would have just ran away. Janus would rather this baby be born here in a safe, loving, and financially secure environment than in a motel or some kind of trailer park with the two of them barely able to make ends meet. At least here they wouldn’t have to worry about paying the bills, and they both could finish school.

~

Janus left after breakfast to pick up some forms from work, telling Thomas that he would be back to pick him up and in the meantime start making room for his things. Which is exactly what they doing. Patton had run out to go check on the restaurant, wanting to make sure everything was running smoothly so it was just Virgil and him. Currently, they sat in front of Virgil’s dresser, although he supposed it was their dresser now. They’d decided on splitting it evenly in half and were now working on moving Virgil’s things to his half. He looked over at Thomas and gave him a quick kiss before speaking, “I’m sorry about breakfast. I’d have warned you ahead of time if I knew that he would start talking about your parents.”

“It’s ok.”, Thomas shrugged and kissed Virgil back. He continued folding clothing as he spoke, “At least I’ll be out of that house soon. And I’ll be with you. All I want right now is to be here for you and our baby. That’s all that matters to me right now.” Virgil sighed, “I know but you shouldn’t have to deal with that. It’s horrible that they’re like that T. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me.”, it was the truth. Virgil had been overcome with guilt since Thomas had admitted the truth about his parents. The words just kept racing around his head, “You were going through all that and I just kept asking you why you didn’t want to tell your parents about us. I’m an asshole.”

Thomas shook his head rapidly, “No you’re not. God Virgil, you’re not an asshole. I lied to you about my parents. I let you think that my parents were supportive and then just hid you from them. Of course you’d think I was ashamed of you.”. He pressed a kiss to Virgil’s head, “I love you though. I love you so much. I know it probably sounds like something a dumb teen would say but it’s the truth. I love you and our baby with all my heart.”

Virgil smiled softly, “I know. I love you too. And I already love our baby so much.”, he turned back to the dresser and blinked at what he saw. A small pastel purple quilt sat folded neatly in the bottom drawer, “I didn’t even know we still had this.”, Virgil whispered as he picked it up.

Thomas stared at the blanket in confusion, “What is it? I know it’s a blanket and all, but what’s the story?”, Virgil unfolded the quilt out in front of him.  Most of the quilt was a pastel purple and blue patchwork pattern then, about ¾ of the way up, the pattern changed to show teddy bear heads, making it looked like they were tucked in. On the back was Virgil’s birth name lovingly stitched. 

He smiled at the sight, “My mom made this for me before she passed. I thought it was lost when we moved here.”, Virgil could still remember searching furiously for the blanket after the move, Janus comforting him when he couldn’t find it. He shook his head, “Guess that shows how little use the bottom drawer huh?”

Thomas smiled and gently stroked the soft fabric; his touch soft, like he was afraid of damaging it, “Perfect timing I guess. We’re about to have a baby and all.”, he looked up at Virgil, “We could use it for the baby. Only if you want to of course. But it could be like a gift from your mother.”

Virgil smiled at the idea, “I like that.”, he turned over the blanket and frowned. His birth named stared outback at him, “One issue though.”, he gestured to the name stitch on, “I know it’s just a name, and I know she picked that name. But it’s personalized, and the thought of naming the baby my deadname feels off.”

Thomas nodded in understanding, “We could see about getting the stitching removed. And then have the baby’s name stitched on instead.”. Virgil smiled at the idea.

“I love that.”, and it was the honest to god’s truth. The thought of being able to use the blanket his mother made for him for his baby filled Virgil with happiness. The blanket had been a huge comfort throughout his life and he hoped it would be a comfort for the baby as well, “Hopefully... Nevermind.”

“What?” “It’s stupid.”, Virgil mumbled. He couldn’t believe what almost came out of his mouth. God, how insensitive would that have been?

“Virge, please just tell me what you were thinking? It’s not stupid. I promise it’s not.”, Virgil sighed, eyes trained on the quilt.

“I was going to say that hopefully we could get something of yours for the baby. It sounds stupid considering what’s about to happen.”, Virgil folded up the quilt, staring down at his lap. He’d been incredibly lucky that he’d caught himself before that came out of his mouth. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. God, Thomas was about to get kicked out or worse. He would be lucky if he could get any of his things, let alone baby things. They had bigger problems than that right now. Virgil couldn’t believe how selfish he was being,

Thomas shook his head, “Virgil that’s not stupid or selfish or anything else you might be thinking It’s normal for expectant parents to want to pass things from their childhoods down to their children. I’m not mad at you for wanting that, even if I might not be able to pass something down, ok?”

Virgil shook his head, “I know but it’s my fault you have to do this. If you get kicked out or hurt then it’s my fault.”, He wanted to continue but Thomas stopped him before he could with a fierce kiss. 

“Don’t you dare say that this is your fault.”, Virgil pulled away from the kiss and could see Thomas blinking back tears, “This is in no way, shape, or form your fault ok. My parents are homophobic fucks, that’s not your fault. Moving out will be freeing. I’ll finally get to just be myself. And I’ll get to be there for you and the baby, and that’s what matters most to me right now. Not my parents, not my youtube, just you and our baby. That’s all I care about right now.” “You sound like a love interest in a Jane Austen novel when you talk like that, you know that right?”, Virgil mumbled as he pulled away.

Thomas chuckled, “I aspire to be Austen love interest levels of wonderful. Especially now. There’s going to be a lot of bullshit coming your way and it’s my fault. The least I can do is be a good boyfriend and father. I can’t believe I’m going to be a father.”

“We both are. And I thought you said this accident was both of our faults. It takes two to tango.”, He kissed Thomas, nuzzling against him as he heard a car pull up. “That’s probably my dad.”

~

Janus glanced over at Thomas for what felt like the hundredth time since they began driving over to Thomas’s house. He could see how tightly he held the custody forms in his hands. Hopefully, this would go down peacefully and Janus wouldn’t have to take them to court, god knows Thomas would be 18 before it was fully settled. 

Thomas sat beside him, his leg rapidly bouncing up and down. There was a sigh before Thomas spoke, “You’re not like mad at me about getting Virgil pregnant, are you?”. Fear showed clearly in his eyes. Janus shook his head, still looking at the road before them.

“Well, I can’t say I’m ecstatic that you two are having a baby while still in high school. But I’m not mad. Virgil was on the pill, and accidents happen. And It’s Virgil’s choice to keep the baby. Now all I can do is support you.”, he took a deep breath, “I do have one question though.”

“Go on?” 

“I know you’re making money off of your social media. And that’s good, it’ll offer some financial security. But do you have a backup plan?”

Thomas nodded, “I’m going to get a job so I have a steady income. And then I want to go to UofC, that way I’ll still be close to here. And then I want to be a doctor. That way I can support Virgil and the baby.”

Janus nodded, “I think that’s a great career plan. I could always use an assistant at the office if you need work. So long as you can file papers, of course.” Thomas looked over at him, his jaw-dropping from shock.

“Are you offering me a job?” “Sure. I need an assistant and Virgil want to work with Pat. And you’re going to need money aren’t you? I don’t think your parents will let you keep the car, will they?” “It’s in my name, thank god. I’ve been trying to make sure I’m financially separate from them for a while now. That way I wouldn’t be on my ass if they kicked me out.”, Jaus was stunned at how prepared Thomas was for things to go south. Things were seriously wrong in his home.

“Thomas? You know that you’re a part of our family now, right? And not just because you and Virgil are having a baby. We all care about you. You know that right?”, Thomas nodded, but the tears in his eyes told Janus otherwise.

~

Virgil paced as he waited for his dad and Thomas to get back. Surely couldn’t take this long. Then again, they were most likely packing up everything. Not to mention Janus had to pick up Remy and Emile from school. That would certainly add time to their trip. God, the waiting was the worst part. He’d tried to busy himself by catching up on his homework, but every noise had him running to the window to see if it was them.

After the 5th trip to the window, Patton invited him downstairs to help him bake some treats for Emile’s school bake sale. Virgil was glad to help. So here they were, mixing up a batch of brownies for Emile to take to school. It was relaxing, almost. Took his mind off of everything. Maybe he should bake more often.

“What’s on your mind?”, Virgil jumped and looked up at Patton. His dad smiled at him as he chopped up chocolate, the look in his eyes both comforting and inquiring, “Something’s on your mind. You can tell me. Only if you want to though.”

Virgil shrugged, “I was just thinking that I should bake more. It’s relaxing, take your mind off of things.”, like the fact that he was pregnant at 17 and his boyfriend was about to get kicked out of his home by his homophobic parents. 

Patton nodded, “There’s a reason I bake so much. Beyond wanting to have baked goods in the house at all times. What are you trying to take your mind off of?”, Virgil watched as he dumped half of the chopped chocolate into a double boiler.

“Everything. I know that keeping the baby is my choice and that you and dad would support me if I wanted to get an abortion or give the baby up. And I do want to keep the baby. It’s just a lot. Especially with Thomas. It’s my fault he’s going to get kicked out or worse. This wouldn’t be happening if I hadn’t gotten pregnant.” “Oh baby bat.”, Pat sighed and pulled Virgil into a hug, “What’s happening isn’t your fault. It’s solely Thomas’ parent’s fault. They’re bigots.”

Virgil leaned into the hug, “How do I stop feeling guilty?” “I’m not sure. I know something you can do though. Make him feel welcome here. It’s something we can all do, ok?”

Virgil nodded, but before he could say more, the front door opened and Emile and Remy came running into the kitchen. “Why’s your boyfriend moving in with us?”, Remy asked as he sat his backpack on the counter. “Because they suck?”

“Virgil!”, Patton admonished, “Don’t say that. Even if they do suck?” “Too late.”, Virgil called back as went into the living room. Thomas was just walking in, a large suitcase rolling in behind him. Virgil could see tears brimming in his eyes. He ran forward to hug him, “How’d it go?”

“They signed over custody. Your dad went to get the rest of my stuff. It’s mostly filming stuff left.”, Thomas murmured, “We came in and I told them that I’m gay and we’re having a baby. Then your dad asked for custody until I turn 18. And they just signed it over without any questions. I know it’s a good thing I’m here now but part of me wished they would have fought. Or been accepting. They just said that he could keep me. And they looked at me like I was a disease.” “You’re not a disease.”, Virgil promised, “And there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re amazing and wonderful and I’m so lucky to have you in my life. Your parents just suck.”

“I’m the lucky one here. God, Virge, they called the baby an abomination. Our baby. I hate them”

“I know”, Virgil mumbled before kissing Thomas gently, “Come on, let’s go unpack your things. And then we can cuddle.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. There’s no one else I’d rather have this baby with.”

~

A/N: Today's fic was brought to you by asshole parents, homophobe, and copious amounts of guilt. The perfect trio for having angst in any fic. I'm taking prompts for this series so leave a message if you have a prompt.

[haloud]

things we could burn in one go (eminence) -- chapter 10

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Alex and Forrest struggle to understand each other in the wake of their breakup; Alex makes a shocking discovery at the Long farm.

Excerpt:

The corner of Forrest’s mouth twitched, as did one eyebrow, and his stance softened slightly. “No serenade? No boombox? No diamonds? There goes that fantasy.”

It was true; Alex had come here empty-handed, the way he brought himself to every step of their relationship. All the things he had inside him, all the things he had to give, he’d failed to deliver any of them in a way that Forrest needed. He’d made do with illusions, convincing ones, convincing enough to fool even himself into thinking he was built any other way than this. He was a problem-solver, a provider; it was bitter medicine to learn that brute-forcing himself into the proper shape for someone else only hurt everyone involved.

Alex ducked his head with an infinitesimal smile of his own. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Forrest shook his head. “Honestly, I’m just kind of surprised you’re even here. I thought I’d be waiting until I decided to come to you. And shouldn’t you be at work right now?”

“I took a half day,” Alex replied. He’d taken tomorrow off as well to prepare for their planning session, but Forrest didn’t need to know that. “I didn’t want to make either of us wait. Not for this.”

(Wednesday, 14:00)

The Long family home was leagues from the old barn and the fallen tree, but an odd sort of almost-nostalgia sloshed in Alex’s stomach as he approached the house all the same. He had only been back here a few times since he and Forrest met; it wasn’t a part of their relationship; it was more convenient to spend their time at Alex’s, where there was no one to bother them. When they spent the night together, it was in Alex’s bed, and the sex they had was there too, unless Forrest knew for sure Wyatt was gone and not coming back. That thought only made it stranger, how Alex had never quite gotten used to sharing his space with him, sharing a bed, sharing a life. For the thousandth time he wondered what was wrong with him, but he took a deep breath and cut that feeling loose and let it float away. What good was a question with no answer to him now? It was a search he’d never finish, and he would have to learn to live with it.

It felt wrong to leave something before it was finished. To turn his back on a piece of himself before examining every inch of it under the light, to cut loose a string without following it to its end and seeing where it led. But to force it would only make things worse, and he’d done enough of that already.

By the time Alex parked, shut off his car, and gathered his willpower to approach the house, the door was open, and Forrest was waiting for him on the porch. He looked…great. Normal. He’d touched up his hair; his eyes were well-rested and sharp; his fingers and neck dripped with jewelry, and Alex could recognize the look for the armor it was. His own leather jacket was a solid weight across his shoulders.

“Hey,” he said with an awkward wave.

The corner of Forrest’s mouth twitched, as did one eyebrow, and his stance softened slightly. “No serenade? No boombox? No diamonds? There goes that fantasy.”

It was true; Alex had come here empty-handed, the way he brought himself to every step of their relationship. All the things he had inside him, all the things he had to give, he’d failed to deliver any of them in a way that Forrest needed. He’d made do with illusions, convincing ones, convincing enough to fool even himself into thinking he was built any other way than this. He was a problem-solver, a provider; it was bitter medicine to learn that brute-forcing himself into the proper shape for someone else only hurt everyone involved.

Alex ducked his head with an infinitesimal smile of his own. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Forrest shook his head. “Honestly, I’m just kind of surprised you’re even here. I thought I’d be waiting until I decided to come to you. And shouldn’t you be at work right now?”

“I took a half day,” Alex replied. He’d taken tomorrow off as well to prepare for their planning session, but Forrest didn’t need to know that. “I didn’t want to make either of us wait. Not for this.”

Forrest just snorted and moved aside, sitting in a rocking chair and nudging the one beside it with his foot. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

Sitting, they were silent for a while, the world peaceful around them—birds chirping, sun shining, the whole nine yards. Alex watched a small lizard creep across the dirt below the porch railing until it disappeared beneath the house.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have told you about Michael. That wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry for how I acted and the things I said.”

He swallowed, grimaced, almost, the words juvenile and inadequate to his own ears.

“About Michael staying with you, or…about Michael,” Forrest replied, guarded.

“The first one. Well—both, as it turns out. I thought…I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought. I’m sorry for not telling you that Michael was staying over; that was shitty, I knew the whole time it was shitty, and I did it anyway because I didn’t want to fight. But at the same time, I had no idea you were worried about, well, me cheating on you.”

Sighing, Forrest said, “I told you, man. Unfinished business. It’s kind of visible from space. Before this, I wouldn’t even have thought I was a jealous person, can you believe that? I should have said something to you, but I thought I could just power through it.”

“I guess we both learned things about ourselves,” Alex said wryly. “I didn’t think I had anything to hide, but when it came time to say something about Michael to you, I just clammed up. Would I have felt that way if it was Kyle staying over? Probably not. But I wasn’t thinking about it like that.”

“Huh.” Forrest paused. He rocked his chair slowly forward and back, hands folded on his stomach.

“Did I act weird? Shifty, like I was hiding something?” Alex asked, awkward and vulnerable, embarrassed at how poorly he knew himself, how poorly he knew how he should have acted to not even know that much.

“No, not really. Well, you were pretty distant, but,” he shrugged, “there’s nothing wrong with needing space. It was just…you know, you sang that song at the Pony when we got together, and I had an inkling it was about Guerin, but for some reason I thought I could handle it. Dating a guy who was in love with someone else, who was trying to move on. But it didn’t work like that, huh.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex repeated weakly. “I really thought I was ready. I didn’t mean to lie to you; mostly I was lying to myself. But I know it doesn’t make it any better.”

“Can I ask you a question? Point blank?”

“Um, sure. Go ahead.”

“Were you cheating on me with Guerin?”

“No.” That, at least, he could say firm and clear.

Forrest took a deep breath, dropped his eyes, then looked out across the desert. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I believe you.”

Briefly, Alex had to push down the urge to lash out defensively like he had during their previous fight. Had he really done so much to deserve that scrutiny while they were together?

“Thank you,” he said, not sure of what else needed to be.

“I appreciate you coming here and being honest. I mean…it still kind of stings for things to end this way, but. I do appreciate it. And, well, I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“Showing up and exploding like that without giving you some warning. I mean, I’m kind of not sorry it brought things to a head in the end, but it was still rude.”

“No, I should’ve—”

Forrest held up a hand to stall Alex. “No, seriously, dude. The martyr act is cute, but I’m a big boy. Your house is covered in cameras, and you need like two weeks of warning for a coffee date; I knew better than to think showing up like that would be a cute surprise.”

“Oh. Um.” Alex floundered for a way to respond to that. He felt seen, pinned under the lamp of an insight he hadn’t known Forrest had. It was itchy.

“Um, thanks. For the apology. And I get what you mean, about being sorry it happened but not sorry that…well. I really am sorry it ended this way.” If not that it was ending at all.

“Are you?” Forrest raised an eyebrow. “You’re a free agent now. I half-expect Guerin to send me flowers by Saturday.”

Alex winced. But still, he said, “Okay, that’s fair. We kind of, um…”

Forrest let out an ugly snort. “You know, most people double check after a fight like that. Damn, I’m glad I was already planning on breaking up with you for good if you hadn’t gotten the message.”

“I…I know. The way it happened, it just…” Alex sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “I won’t make excuses. You have every right to be mad.”

“I am mad. And hurt,” Forrest said matter-of-factly. “But maybe not as much as I thought I’d be, once the shock cooled off.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah.” A smile flickered on Forrest’s mouth, and he shrugged. “Looking back on it, it kind of feels like we’d been forcing it for a while, huh.”

Alex matched him hesitant smile for hesitant smile. Between them there were stacks of stilted conversations and unmade plans, awkward mornings and missed connections. From the morning Fields barged into Alex’s life to the moment he thought he saw his brother at the airport, in the past few weeks there were a number of times Alex had found himself unable to reach out across a gap and meet Forrest there. He’d thought it was just something wrong with him; it was an unbelievable relief to find that Forrest felt the same.

“You might be right,” he confessed.

“Yeah, I think I am,” Forrest sighed. “Damn. That’s probably why my head went straight to cheating.”

“You don’t have to find a way to even that scale,” Alex replied, shaking his head. “I was wrong; I won’t back down from that. But Michael aside, I never wanted to hurt you, Forrest. And I’m sorry I did.”

Forrest chewed on his lip, an old nervous habit. He had a pinprick scar just there, a souvenir from a piercing he’d grown out of, and when Alex would kiss him there, he’d smile. Alex was walking away from this with warm memories, sweet new patterns in the weaving of his life, unexpected treasures. And that in itself was something to cherish, no matter how much their relationship faded into history.

“Yeah, well, same here.”

“You didn’t hurt me, now you’re the one trying to even the scale—” Alex protested.

Forrest cut him off. “I like you, Alex, and I liked our jam sessions, and you made my time in Roswell suck so much less than I thought it would. But there’s a universe where we’re sitting on opposite ends of this, because my book is way more almost done than I’d let on to you just yet, so. Thanks for being such an almost-two-timing emotionally constipated jerk so when I tell my friends this story five years from now I can totally get all the sympathy.”

Alex let out a surprised snort that turned into laughter, and Forrest joined him, if a little more subdued than he’d normally be.

When they collected themselves, Forrest wiped some wetness away from his eyes and said, “Seriously, though, Alex, I hope he makes you happy. Because I don’t think we did that for each other, in the long run.”

“I hope that for you, too, Forrest,” Alex replied softly. “You deserve someone way less fucked up than me.”

“Nah, cut that crap out. We’re all a little bit fucked up.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“It is true. You, me, whoever I date next. My old granny,” he said with the first true smile of the afternoon. “And Guerin, too.”

His smile dropped as quickly as it had appeared, and he leaned forward, reaching out and putting his hand on Alex’s knee; Alex almost shied away, but he forced himself to stay still.

“I just want to make sure,” Forrest said, voice gentle—a gentleness Alex didn’t trust. His composure broke, and he drew back, the slight movement causing Forrest to drop his hand. He continued, “Guerin…he’s what you want? Truly, this is what you want?”

“Yes,” Alex snapped, no hesitation.

“Okay. Just, if you’re sure. If this is really your choice.”

Alex’s patience ripped clean in two. “I know the two of you spent some time together at the library,” he said, voice level and deliberate, “but from what I can tell, you don’t know him at all, so spare me this paternalism, okay? I can make my own choices. Whatever assumptions you’re making—”

“Okay! Okay.” Forrest held his hands up in surrender, but it did nothing to cool Alex’s temper. “I just had to ask.”

“Well, there’s your answer.”

“Noted.”

Alex stood stiffly, and Forrest followed just a second behind. They stood and stared at each other for a few seconds, Alex waiting for him to make a move, Forrest waiting for something Alex couldn’t figure.

Then Forrest stuck out his hand. In the same motion, Alex half-turned, made himself sideways, a smaller target, flowing out of the path if that hand continued forward in a blow. But no, it stayed still halfway between them. Forrest didn’t comment on his reaction. Alex reached out and shook his hand.

“I’ll see you around sometime,” Forrest said. His smile crinkled up the corners of his eyes.

“Take care of yourself, Forrest,” Alex replied.

He left the Long farm the same way he came, down the same dirt road, down the same path in his head, with the same almost-nostalgia. Leaving looked a hundred different ways, and he’d been a hundred different times, but this time the scenery was new, and he was ready to be home.

 (15:00)

A lot of work went into making Alex’s house a home.

When he moved from the Valenti cabin closer to town, it was out of necessity, even if it took him a long time to admit it. It was a victory over his own stubbornness and solitude and maladaptive independence, a concession to comfort that surprised even himself. It made his life better. He was closer to work; he was closer to his friends; he had an accessible bathroom, and something he’d considered so small before helped him along a journey he’d barely acknowledged toward accepting and appreciating the body he lived in now. But changing environments wasn’t easy for him. He’d had to put a year’s worth of care into finding the perfect location and fitting the house there to be someplace he could feel secure without complete solitude for miles around him, between the cameras and the vantage point of the patio and the orientation of his bedroom within the house and just everything from top to bottom. He’d fought hard. He won.

And then he came home from breaking up with his ex-boyfriend to find a strange car in his driveway.

Well, not entirely strange. He’d seen it once before. But when he saw it, it was from the vantage point of his own front door, not from the outside.

The car had room to park in the driveway because Michael’s truck was gone, and that was the only mercy Alex knew as he parked in the street and unholstered his gun. Michael wasn’t here; he was safe with Isobel or Max or Sanders or someone—someone who wasn’t Alex, who thought he had a safe space, a space to protect Michael, but in the end had nothing at all. The house hadn’t been empty since Michael’s injury, but now that he was on the mend, it was at times. Michael was alone at times.

Was this the first time Fields had come by? What was stopping her from returning with backup and taking Michael away?

Gun in one hand, phone in the other, there was one defensive maneuver on Alex’s mind before he confronted his enemy.

Michael answered quickly, though every second felt like an eternity as Alex watched Fields watch him, face expressionless, body language placid in her place between him and his own front door.

“Alex—” His voice came through, so light and happy it stole the breath from Alex’s chest. He was okay. He wasn’t shoved in the back of a van, chained and muffled and senseless, his truck abandoned in a ditch somewhere in the desert.

He didn’t let him finish. “Thank God. Where are you, Michael? Are you okay?”

Worry stole the light from Michael’s tone, but Alex could beat himself up for causing that later. “Alex? I’m fine, I’m at the Pony, what’s wrong—”

Alex repeated, “Thank god. Don’t come home, do you hear me? Do not come back to the house until I give you the all clear. Stay with Max and Maria.”

“What? No!”

Alex hung up on him and stowed his phone before leaving the car and crossing the street.

“Captain!” Fields said cheerfully from one of his patio chairs. Her eyes flicked down and clocked Alex’s weapon held at his side, but her demeanor didn’t change.

“What is this about? Get off my property,” Alex almost snarled.

“Sure, Captain. Your call.”

She stood, adjusted her skirt, and pulled her phone from her pocket. It couldn’t have rung more than once before she said, all lightness gone from her tone, “Get me Sgt. Manes.”

Cold clarity broke over Alex’s head and trickled through his veins. His arms snapped up and locked into place, gun pointed directly at Fields, unwavering.

“Hang up,” he ordered.

“You’re in control here,” she replied. “I’ve given you all the time in the world, and now I’m giving you more.” She angled her phone away from her face so he could hear the tinny hold music blaring from the speaker. “If you’re going to keep avoiding me, I’m going to call someone in who has answers and gets results. Or are you prepared to do that for me?”

The music measured the seconds as Alex considered his options, mind apart from motionless body. Project Shepherd, the source of so much pain, so many nightmares. He still didn’t really know what Fields wanted from him, except to continue his father’s work.

But he didn’t have to do that, did he? Put him at the helm of the Project, and he could quietly shut it down from the inside, erase it from existence, reduce it down to nothing. Euthanasia of a legacy.

In a perfect world, if Alex were a perfect man, he would. The path was paved with solid golden intention—but the end of it was hazy. How many times had Alex seen a stranger in the mirror and known he needed to get away from the military to find himself again behind his father’s shadow, and how many times had he made a different decision? How could he be sure this time would be different, that he wouldn’t find reason after reason that Project Shepherd was a necessary evil, that with himself heading it, he was keeping his loved ones safe, working for the greater good, even if they didn’t understand—all in the same uniform of generations, the uniform Michael could barely look at?

So, then, the other choice. Walk away. Let Fields call in Flint or promote some other career man to do what they would, set their traps, work in secret for the eradication of a threat that might never come at the expense of everything Alex held dear. No control, no insight, how many times would he have to fear the ultimate loss, Michael, dead, Maria, dead, their loved ones, dead, their accusing eyes on him.

The uniform laid to rest and packed away, a closed chapter in a life that still had so much living worth in it.

The music looped. Alex’s steady arm began to ache. He was running out of time.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Fields said, voice low and convincing past the jangling notes and Alex’s own pounding heartbeat. “This work isn’t just your legacy, it’s rewarding in its own right. Have you ever wanted to settle down, have a family? This offer comes with total security. No more moving around, way less following orders. I’m sure your lover would appreciate it too—”

That snapped Alex out of his frozen poise, the clanging dissonance making him snort. “My lover? You’re a little late with that one; we just broke up.” He dropped his gun hand. “Hang up the phone. Here’s your answer.”

“Go ahead.”

“The answer’s no.”

Fields’s face turned down, but, true to her word, she pressed end call. Alex reholstered his gun.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I was looking forward to working with you. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I hope so too,” Alex replied, surprising even himself that he’d be that candid. But something about Fields’s demeanor diminished with the threat of Flint on hold, almost like she’d pushed so hard because this was something she wanted, rather than something she was under orders to obtain.

Even with her phone silent, though, it represented the same thing—a direct line to Flint, an accessory to a job offer, putting someone with his track record highly placed to wreak havoc. But if Alex made all his decisions based on that fear, he’d never be free. He’d spend the rest of his life running into airport bathrooms after strangers.

And maybe he would anyway. Refusing to let himself be intimidated this once wouldn’t eradicate the real threat the aliens lived under every day. But allowing himself to live between those moments—he owed himself that much.

Shocking Alex further, Fields stuck out her hand, and he shook it.

“Apologies if I was overzealous, sir. I’ve been told I need to work on my impulsivity.”

“It’s—” Alex let out a weak laugh. “Water under the bridge, Lieutenant. What’s with this change of attitude?”

She shrugged. “Disappointment, I guess. A little embarrassment that I waited so long for no payoff. But I won’t force the issues. My superiors have other options.”

There was a veiled threat in there, too, but Alex was too tired to force the issue either. For the second time today, he resigned himself to walking away from stalemate.

“Goodbye, Lieutenant,” he said, stepping aside to let her get to her car.

“Goodbye, Captain.”

The last Alex saw of her was the back of her head driving away. And when she disappeared into the heat haze, he collapsed back into a chair, muscles weak and vision swimming. He stuck his head between his knees and sucked in deep breaths until he landed back inside his body.

When he could stand again, he did, pointing his body toward the door and marching inside. The door was still locked: no sign of forced entry anywhere, not in the front or the back or any of the windows Alex checked methodically, sash, latch, frame. The safe and medicine cabinet were both untouched; he checked each twice; he opened every closet and cabinet door on autopilot. He got on the floor to check beneath both beds; he pulled back the shower curtains.

And when there were no more places to check, he stood in the center of his house, staring down his own cameras, trying to break through the walls his own brain put down around him, trying to regain control.

So on edge, Alex wheeled around seconds before a car screeched into the driveway, the pounding of feet, the scrape of a key in the lock and the door thrown open, and—

“Alex!” Michael cried.

He bounded around the corner, wild-eyed and frantic, and as soon as he spotted Alex standing there, he rushed to him, arms already outstretched. Alex barely got his own arms up in time to catch him, but he didn’t need to; Michael was enough for both of them, steady and strong and there, solid arms around Alex, almost lifting him an inch off his feet. His hands clutched at Alex’s back with a desperation that registered only dimly.

“Alex,” he breathed again, holding him, if possible, even closer, pressing their foreheads together and sucking in a deep shuddery breath. “You’re okay, fuck, I was so scared—”

“I told you to stay away,” Alex said weakly.

Michael’s answering laugh was just as weak, almost hysterical. “You know I’m a rebel.”

They drifted like that for a minute or two, Michael’s warm, soft-rough palms cradling Alex’s face, grounding the both of them, letting their souls settle. Then, he stepped back, those hands on Alex’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length.

“You’re okay? You’re not hurt? That phone call—you scared the shit out of me, Alex, what the hell happened?”

“When I got home, Fields was waiting for me.”

“What? Fuck!”

“I freaked out, I had to make sure you were safe, that you stayed safe—”

“Are you safe? What did she want? What did she do?”

“I’m fine. Physically, I’m fine,” Alex let his eyes fall shut, wrapping his hands around Michael’s wrists, fragile bones in his grip, and he let Michael hold him, shutting off his senses.

“Okay. Okay, Alex. I’ve got you,” Michael rasped, pressing into him even closer.

“I told her no,” Alex blurted out, pressing right back, starting them swaying back and forth. There was no other way to get close enough but to push and pull, no matter how much they tried to meld themselves into one.

“What?”

“Fields, I—I told her no. No Project Shepherd. No.”

“Alex.”

Michael’s fingers sought across his face, stroking, feeling, calloused finger pads on his brows, his cheekbones, fit so gently against the line of his jaw, tracing his lips and the corners of his eyes, and then Michael’s lips caressed him too, forehead, nose, then mouth, and by the time he was done, Alex’s breath hitched and his body shook.

“I love you,” Michael whispered. “I love you so much. You are—you are so fucking strong, you know that? I know, I know how hard this is, but I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too,” Alex replied helplessly.

“It’s going to be okay, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Somehow, Michael spoke with confidence, such a tiny, intimate assurance, no matter how unlikely, no matter how utopian, like a siren it sung to Alex to let go, to give his fear and stress over into Michael’s hands, and he needed somewhere physical for that feeling to go, so he looped his arms loosely around Michael’s neck and rested there.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he admitted. “I don’t know how bad I fucked up—I don’t know how long she was here before I got back—there was no sign of entry, and I checked the house, but I don’t know—I don’t know—”

“Let’s sit down, okay? I’ll get you something to drink, and your meds, if you want, and I’ll, uh, let me tell Max he can go home…” Michael said sheepishly.

“Max?”

“Yeah, he was with me when you called and wasn’t gonna let me rush over here by myself if there was trouble.”

“Good man,” Alex said weakly.

Moving stiff, he sat on the couch. Michael flitted around him for a second, adjusting pillows, giving him a blanket, fingers trailing over him like he wasn’t quite willing to be out of arm’s length. He tore himself away, though, and Alex tracked him from one end of the house to the other, front door, bathroom, kitchen, and when he came back to Alex’s side he was barefoot, glass of water and pill bottle in hand, and he sat on the floor below Alex, leaning back against him, folding himself so his forehead rested against Alex’s hip and Alex could rest his hand in Michael’s hair.

“They’re not going to take you,” Alex promised. “No matter what it takes, whether I told her yes or no, I won’t let them have you.”

“I know,” Michael replied. “But I won’t let you give yourself up, either. We’re together. In everything. No matter what happens.”

“No—”

“That’s why I didn’t listen to you when you told me to stay away,” Michael explained, lifting his head enough to look Alex in the eye. He was as serious as Alex had ever seen him. “You can’t ask that of me. We stand together. That’s…that’s a line in the sand, okay?”

Alex swallowed. “I can’t promise I won’t say something like that again.”

“I know. But just understand—whenever you do, I’m gonna disobey.”

Alex’s eyes slipped shut, lips pressed together, riding out the fear, the straight shot of catastrophe in his brain. Michael’s words, so clear and steady, so different from the people they’d been, the places their relationship languished. Alex had to respect that, even knowing it would likely cause them to fight for the rest of their lives.

“I love you,” he repeated, the best acknowledgment he could give.

Michael smiled, crinkling the corners of his honey-sweet eyes, and Alex twisted a hand in the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward into a deep, sweeping kiss. He moved easy with every move of Alex’s, half-crouched to crawling up onto Alex’s thighs, then onto the couch to straddle his lap, his hot mouth driving deep against Alex’s. Alex’s hands went to his hair, gripping and tugging those soft curls, sliding down his back and back up, they made out on the couch like the teenagers they used to be.

Pulling back to breathe, but not so far Alex couldn’t shift to kissing down his throat and chest, Michael panted, “Bedroom? Do we wanna—should we--?”

“Uh,” Alex stalled out, the light from the window warm where it pooled, Michael’s hardening cock warm where it pressed against Alex’s belly through their clothes. The world was out there, the camera, in the corner, and Alex weighed his options, immediate gratification versus comfort and privacy.

Did they have any privacy, anyway? The image of Fields waiting, alone, at his house, free reign to tamper with whatever she wanted, haunted the edges of Alex’s mind.

“Alex?” Michael asked softly, brushing his fingertips through the overlong ends of his hair.

Their faces were only inches apart, their breaths mingling between lips and lungs, and there wasn’t anything Alex would let keep them from nurturing the happiness finally within their grasp.

“Yes,” Alex said, palming Michael’s hips, “Yes, bedroom.”

Sliding off his lap, Michael reached out a hand, and Alex took it, heat zinging up his arm where they were joined. Michael led the way until they reached the bedroom, where he hesitated beside the bed, watching Alex under his lashes. So Alex sat, pulling him by his belt loops back to straddle his lap like he had on the couch, running his hands up and down Michael’s body as he settled in, his own arms warm and solid around Alex’s neck.

The world held still, then, their eyes locked, electric and hypnotic, Alex’s hands twitching where they rested on Michael’s strong thighs, the scent of rain sharp and sweet in his nose and mouth with every inhale, every breath made tactile in puffs of heat in the space between them. The longer the moment stretched, the higher the temperature climbed, blood filling Alex’s cheeks, blood filling his cock as he waited for Michael’s next move.

That move was to lower his lips to Alex’s once again, slipping his hot, velvet tongue behind Alex’s lips and along his own tongue, flicking it against the roof of his mouth as he opened and relaxed into the languid kiss. As their mouths moved, so did Michael’s hands, cupping his neck then sliding down his shoulders to his chest. He dragged his thumbnails across Alex’s nipples, making him gasp and hiss, and Alex could feel the wicked smirk spread across his mouth even as he didn’t let up, nibbling his lower lip. Hips beginning to sway, Michael’s hands finished their journey at Alex’s waist, under his shirt and tugging it up—it was unthinkable to separate them, but they managed to wrench their mouths apart long enough to pull Alex’s shirt over his head—and then back down, he fumbled with the button on Alex’s jeans, fighting for access to his hardening cock.

Not to be outpaced, Alex did the same, making short work of Michael’s button and zipper even as he was distracted by the heat and velvet and texture of his chest and the sweet line of hair pointing down to his cock. Michael got up on his knees to shimmy his jeans down under his ass, tugging Alex’s off too, and when they were down to just the thin cotton of their underwear Michael let out a soft wavery sound, buzzing right into Alex’s mouth so he could taste the pleasure on it, frotting their cocks together, rubbing the weight of his body down against Alex. With every grind, his ass rolled against Alex’s thighs, a delicious tease, but not tonight, not tonight, it didn’t have to be tonight, taking everything of each other, they had so much time to explore every facet of their intimacy, every way to make each other climax, complete, come up and down all on each other.

“Come on, Michael,” Alex murmured, holding his hips as he ground down again. “C’mon, c’mon.”

“Alex,” Michael whispered back, all reverence.

“You’re so—fucking—” Beautiful, hot, incredible, amazing, all words that Alex didn’t even need to say, saying would cheapen them, and they had a better language, anyway. He tugged at the waistband of Michael’s boxers, and Michael’s dick bobbed free, hard and hot and Alex wrapped a hand around it, luxuriating in the texture and weight of it in his hand. He gave it one easy, loose stroke and Michael shuddered, another little sound falling from his lips.

They got into a rhythm quick—Michael slid his hand into Alex’s underwear to match him stroke for stroke, their hips moving in time, knuckles brushing every time they came together. Alex rolled his thumb over Michael’s slit and dragged the drop of precum collected down his vein, then let out a bitten-off cry when Michael did the same. Even the things Alex could predict were surprising at Michael’s hands.

After minutes of this, after sweat slicked the pace between them, hearts pounding, senses flooded, Michael shifted even closer, chasing Alex’s hand away as it came up his shaft, so he could wrap them both up and jerk them together, fast and rough, both of them fucked Michael’s hand and fucked against each other, Alex’s teeth on Michael’s ear, Michael’s lips against his cheek. Alex dug his nails into the meat of Michael’s shoulders, riding out every wave of pleasure until finally he came in messy, artless spurts over Michael’s hand.

Michael followed shortly behind, a stuttering moan and a pulse of pleasure, and then they both fell back onto the mattress, panting and laughing. They rolled toward each other like magnets, Michael slipping a leg between Alex’s thighs.

“It’s going to be okay,” Michael promised, serenity and certainty in every line of his face, and Alex sighed, pulling his hand to his chest and holding it there.

Michael couldn’t make that promise. Alex couldn’t make that promise. He had, before, and the universe turned it into a cruel joke. Believing it now would be a hard-fought battle.

“As long as we’re together, we’ll get through it,” Michael amended, and it drew a small smile to Alex’s face.

“I’ll do everything I can.”

“I know you will. But you don’t have to do it alone. You aren’t doing it alone.”

Alex answered him with another kiss, sealing it as truth between them.

 (Thursday, 07:00)

Michael watched Alex through one lovely tawny eye as he went through the room double-checking there was no stray shirt of Forrest’s or toy of Buffy’s to collect before he made his last trip to the Long farm, to put paid to his and Forrest’s relationship once and for all.

“It’s early,” he said muzzily, through lips still mashed to the sheets warm with his sleep.

“I don’t want to keep this waiting,” Alex said with a wave of his hand, grabbing the bag of Forrest’s things. “Not while I have the day off. Get this done, then get back with plenty of time to prepare for our meeting.”

“Mmm, so efficient.”

“I do my best,” Alex said, hoping it came off as charming. “What are you up to today?”

Raising himself up on his hands, Michael arched his back in a luxurious stretch, muscles shifting in the early morning sun. He groaned as his muscles clenched and released and a couple joints popped, then said in his sweet early-morning rasp, “I should put in a couple hours at Sanders’s. Do we know everyone is coming today? Should I cut out early and meet you back here, or will you guys just be coming to the junkyard anyway?”

“I’ll touch base with everyone, but we’ll probably come to you.”

“Sounds good.” Michael stretched again, then swung his legs around to sit on the bed. One side of his face was flushed, one side of his curls scrunched. A bubble of light filled up Alex’s chest, and he cradled it so carefully, letting it show on his face, just for Michael.

Smiling back at him and rubbing one eye, Michael gestured at the bag of Forrest’s things and said, “How are you feeling? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alex replied, shifting the strap on his shoulder. Then, jaw working his face into a grimace, he added, “And that’s weird, right? I shouldn’t be fine? We dated for months—I should feel something.”

For weeks after his breakup with Maria, Michael had lurked on the edges of himself, head tucked between his shoulders, hands in his pockets. And now Alex turned his back with one last box on a to-do list, a final chore of separation. What did that make him?

“Hey,” Michael said, beckoning Alex forward and sliding his hands to cup his hips when he came. “Look, I don’t have a lot of experience in this area either, but enough with the should, okay? The only feelings you gotta feel are your own. You deal with breaking up however you need to, and so will Forrest.”

Alex took a measured breath, counting in, counting out. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” Michael said, kissing him softly right on his sternum, above his anxious heart. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Alex left a parting kiss on Michael’s forehead and left him to get dressed and get to work. Making the drive to the Long farm for a second time in as many days was even more alien than the first; had he ever gone to Forrest’s so frequently as now, at the end?

The only feelings you gotta feel are your own, Michael said, with the wisdom of many years of terrible feeling, so as he drove, Alex did just that. One of the last sweet moments of their relationship was in a car just like this, playlist on the speakers half indie, half punk, both of them singing along to Pretty. Odd., where the two intersected, an album neither of them liked all that much in isolation but belted out together. For the rest of their lives, whenever those songs came on, for a moment they’d be back in a car together; wherever Forrest went next, in little three-minute bursts his phone would carry a dark desert road with Alex beside him.

For the rest of the drive, Alex turned on his music and let it play.

When he got to the farm and called Forrest, he came out of the house harried. “Why did I think you were bringing this stuff tomorrow?” he asked, a scowl on his face.

“I’m not sure; I had the day off and I thought—”

“Whatever. Thanks.”

A snappish retort leapt easily to Alex’s mind, but he held back. Forrest had reason enough to be mad, and if this was how he felt his feelings, they were broken up now—Alex abdicated soothing and fixing, and he’d take Forrest’s anger on the chin.

Forrest’s eyes darted toward Wyatt’s truck parked on the dirt drive beside Alex and said, “You should get out of here. Have a good life, Alex. I mean that.”

And just like that, Alex’s mind flipped and he couldn’t help himself. “If Wyatt is—”

“No, no, he’s mostly harmless. To me, anyway. But him seeing you here would be more trouble than it’s worth, so.” Forrest shouldered the bag of his things and half-turned away. “Bye.”

Alex didn’t move until Forrest disappeared back inside, gripping the steering wheel too tight until his fingers went cold and stiff. Fuck, maybe he should have waited to return this stuff, or just ditched it; all the closure from their last conversation soured on the tongue. But it was over now. Alex threw the car in reverse.

Then he threw it back into park a few yards down the lane, just out of sight of the main house. Wyatt was always more trouble than he was worth, but something was wrong in Forrest’s tone, and Alex would find out what. He had time, at least an hour, to sweep Wyatt’s most likely haunts, from the horse barn to his rigged-up shooting range.

Head on a swivel, Alex moved methodically, hot and dusty within minutes. The barn bustled with activity, so Alex gave it a wide berth, abandoning it as an option with no sign of Wyatt’s dulcet tones cutting through the air.

His mental map of the farm was imperfect at best, so Alex headed to the shooting range by way of the old barn, despite the distance out of his way, an acceptable risk when compared to the prospect of getting lost.

There was no time to linger, but the sight of the old building and fallen tree struck Alex with twin nostalgia and grief. Tripp’s dog tags hung body-hot beneath his shirt, and he let them, closing his eyes and focusing on that feeling, the chain around his neck, the weight of decades of inaction. He drifted closer to the barn, like returning Tripp’s tags to this place had some sort of meaning, whether blessing or blasphemy, Alex wasn’t sure.

He was still too far away to smell the rain burnt into the wood. Would it have smelled the same in Tripp’s time, rich and loving?

Alex hoped not.

Just as he turned to leave on that sour thought, a familiar voice drifted from inside the barn, freezing Alex in his tracks.

“I’m asking you again—are you—or not?”

What was Max doing here?

Alex crept closer. The response was clearer and came from Wyatt, loud and protesting.

“How are you even asking that right now? I’ve been doing all the shit you tell me for months, you gotta give me some quid pro quo—”

The last three words were a mocking drawl.

The response came, “Everything I’ve told you will come to pass, Mr. Long. Now’s not the time for doubters.”

That wasn’t Max. Alex’s heart pounded in his throat.

“Tsch. Whatever.”

“You’ve come far, Mr. Long. And, as always, I appreciate your talent for gathering information. Your eyes within the town are indispensable.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And you will be duly rewarded: doubly so for patience. Time is of the essence; I have to move while Manes is away—”

The sound of his name flashed hot and sharp through Alex’s frozen body, every nerve coming to life and screaming one thing: home.