#THIS TOOK ME ELEVEN HOURS TO WRITE HOLY SHIT

[miyamiwu]

On Kaiser’s Trauma

I’ve thought it over, and I think there’s really no way for Kaiser to awaken this match. Be it scoring a goal or getting one over Isagi, he is not winning. I don’t see it at all.

I’ve reviewed the previous character development arcs, and one thing Kaneshiro has been staunch about is that internal development comes first before external development:

Chigiri - Chigiri had to get over his fear of losing his old self by putting his leg at risk again before the narrative rewarded him with a goal.

Bachira - Bachira had to overcome his fear of being alone before being rewarded with, not a goal, but with a friend who met him where he was.

Barou - Barou had to experience his arrogance being crushed and overcome the subsequent resignation he felt before he could reclaim his role as “main character.”

Hiori - Hiori had to first come at peace with giving up soccer entirely—something he had been hesitant to do, even when it hurt him, because he didn’t know what else to do—before discovering what soccer really means to him.

Yukimiya - Yukimiya found salvation when Isagi saw him as he was desperately fighting for a chance while he could still see.

It’s a bit different for Isagi’s main rivals, though:

Nagi - Nagi got motivated to put in an effort because of Isagi -> Got stronger during Second Selection -> Went back to old habits just to beat Isagi once -> Regressing in the rest of the NEL arc

Rin - Rin had to stop seeking answers outside of himself -> Unleashed his true ego during the U20 match -> Subconsciously sought affirmation from Sae at the end of the match -> Felt rejected by Sae -> ??? (The current match against PxG is ongoing, so I don’t know how he is right now)

Nagi’s and Rin’s development arcs are not linear, and currently both are in the lower curves of their arcs. This is because they haven’t fully solved their internal problems. Until Nagi finds a reason to push himself outside of beating Isagi and until Rin gets over his brother issues, they can never fully grow.

Likewise, Kaiser, who is undoubtedly also a main rival, has to first fucking get therapy process his childhood trauma before he can truly awaken.

But trauma is not easy to overcome. In fact, you don’t even really “heal.” Kaiser “getting over it” in just one match is impossible. As such, I don’t see him winning. At least not now.

Isagi throwing Kaiser’s words back at him by calling him a “clown” has gotten some people to think that Kaiser’s awakening is imminent. After all, a similar thing had happened to Barou before when Isagi called him “donkey.”

But Kaiser is not Barou. Both may be arrogant, but one of them didn’t grow up under violence. And as I’ve said before, internal development comes first. Barou’s internal problems, compared to Kaiser’s, are much easier to resolve.

And unlike Barou’s, Kaiser’s problems are not confined within soccer. They seep into his every being and in all aspects of his life, as we can see in how he treats himself and others off the field.

To begin, let’s talk about what Kaiser thinks of himself:

Alternatively, Hoshi’s translation of Kaiser’s monologue goes like this:

These guys are “humans.” Different from me, they were born wanted “humans.”

Having been abandoned by his mother and growing up abused by his father, Kaiser’s sense of worth is so low that he thinks he was born without it—which is wrong. Everybody is born deserving to live.

But Kaiser thinks otherwise. He sees himself as not even human because nobody wanted him alive. Still, he has this strong desire to live—a desire that had first made itself known to him at this moment:

Right before this, he had looked so dead inside:

He didn’t flinch when the cops came to arrest him. He didn’t try to fight for the escape money he had stashed away. He was so passive and tired and helpless that he might as well be truly dead.

But at that moment his father was about to destroy his soccer ball? A fire lit up inside him. A fire so bright and strong that he got to beat seven cops while handcuffed.

That fire was the love he had for soccer. All his life he’d been in a passive position, but when he fought for what he love, the reins of his life got transferred into his hands.

And in that moment, Michael Kaiser, for once, was truly alive.

Now, he’s living his life in constant search of that fire—or “proof of his existence,” as he puts it.

However, Kaiser has misunderstood what that fire is. After all, how can he recognize love when he’s never been loved?

Only pain and violence are familiar. Thus, it is honestly no surprise when he misattributes “proof of existence” to “inflicting malice on others, living on inside them as a scar.”

For Kaiser to grow, he has to redefine “proof of existence.” How can his own existence depend on the number of people he defeats? That’s unhealthy. And as with Rin’s problem, it’s just seeking answers outside of himself.

But for Kaiser to even begin redefining it, he must first learn to recognize love for what it is.

Love was the fire that was lit inside him. He must go back to it. (Like how Bachira awakened by going back to how he used to play as a child.)

Love is also the main thing that sets Isagi apart from him—the former having been raised by loving parents and having companions sincere to him—so it’s crucial that he learns this if he wants to defeat Isagi.

How can he do this? With the way he was raised, I don’t think Kaiser can learn love on his own. He has to learn it from others. But before that, he must see himself as “human.” While he still views himself as “non-human,” Kaiser won’t be able to connect deeply with “humans” and welcome any love from them.

And this is the crux of his problem...

Kaiser has made attempts to be more “human,” but...

... he’s going about it so horribly wrong 😭😭😭

@galaxynajma also sent this question:

What do you think is the new reason for why kaiser does this every morning: His morning routine consists of: standing before the mirror naked, gazing at himself while having a conversation (to himself), getting into the mindset that nothing is impossible, and then smiling while thinking ‘this is me’. (Trivia from Blue Lock wiki)

“This is me” is Kaiser reaffirming to himself that he is becoming more “human” when he sets out to achieve the “impossible.”

How to be Human 101

Okay, fuck, to be completely honest, I have no idea! I didn’t expect to get this psychological while I was writing 🫠

I had… written myself into a corner. But anyways, I’m gonna try seeing this through...

So, I’m no psychologist, but… I relate on a deeply personal level with Kaiser’s “human vs non-human.” But in my case, I had used the words “normal vs not normal.”

(This is gonna get a little bit personal, but bear with me!)

This distinction was something I strongly felt during my peak depression years. I felt like nobody truly understood me because they hadn’t been through what I had been through. Whatever the doctors said just went from one ear to another because I couldn’t trust them. In my head, I had categorized them as one of the “normal” people—their lives were so put-together and they were so in control and on top of things! Not like me, who was drowning.

I also slowly distanced myself from friends because they, too, were the “normal” ones.

One friend, however, stuck around. She didn’t mind me going missing for months without a word. And whenever I showed up again from who knows where, she would always excitedly welcome me back as if I never even left. And this was the friend who I thought to be always better than me in every way because she was prettier, smarter, and had a better financial status. So I never really expected her to get me.

But oh, she did. I found out that she wasn’t “normal,” too. She too had her own problems, and we got to share our sorrow with each other...

So, I guess what I’m trying to say here is that...

It’s not really a matter of erasing the distinction between “human” and “non-human.” It’s enough, for now, that Kaiser finds another “non-human” like him, and with whom he will slowly start to feel “human”—worthy of living and being loved.

I know Kaneshiro isn’t fond of therapy talk, but for Kaiser, I think it’s a must that he gets to open up to someone. He doesn’t have to share the full story. He just has to be sincere about it.

And who is the closest “non-human” that we have around Kaiser who’s also unwanted by his family?

Ness.

This doesn’t even have to be about shipping. And I know their relationship is looking pretty grim right now because of how Kaiser has been treating Ness since the beginning, but...

...I still believe that this, at least, was real.

Together, they can learn what it is to be “human.”

In summary, for Kaiser to awaken, he must first resolve his internal problems. To do this, he must...

Find a fellow “non-human.”

See himself as “human.”

Recognize love for what it is.

Redefine his “proof of existence”

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, *bows

---

Okay, so I don’t normally do this at the end of my posts, but I just recently launched my Alpha Reading Service. If you liked my analysis above and would like me to review your story the same way, do check it out!

Or, if you don’t need any alpha reading, consider tipping me on Ko-fi instead. Thank you!

[loveoaths]

writing log: 2021 + 2022

a recent conversation with a good friend made me realize: holy shit, i struggle to acknowledge my accomplishments, especially the creative ones. so i decided to start doing a yearly writing recap to log what work i've done, contextualize the environment i did that work in, and take a moment to just sit back and appreciate how i spent my year. this is the first time i'm doing this, so i'll be combining 2021 and 2022.

in 2021, i...

...got headfucked by illness, but kept writing.

this is not one of those "inspirational disability" things. long covid is the worst thing that's ever happened to me, physically and mentally, and that's saying something. i spent a solid two months not being able to walk, let alone think, and it took three more months for me to be able to read for longer than a few minutes at a time. at one point, my sixty-something year old mother had to hold me up so i could walk a lap around the block that i had been running months prior, and it was a super dark time. i am proud of myself for fighting for my health, advocating for humane treatment, and re-learning how to find solace and comfort and reprieve in reading and writing. i was recuperating in bed most of 2021 (when i wasn't struggling to keep my job lol) so i had a lot of time to come up with project ideas but zero stamina to finish them. i'm still not recovered, and have new chronic illnesses out the wazoo now, but i'm in a much better place these days.

...worked on 21 scripts.

includes new and old projects. my brain was scattered, but i tried.

...developed 12 new project premises.

some are good, others are dogshit. but who cares!

...finished 5 scripts.

three half-hour scripts, and two elevens. combined, that's almost two episodes of prestige television. i'm coming for your ass, tony gilroy!!!

...read 25 books.

comic books, ya novels, non-fiction, autobiographies, picture books; you name it, i read it. most of what i read went in one ear and out the other because of the covid brain damage, but i remember how soothing the act of reading a book while curled up with hot tea under a warm blanket was to my aching brain and body, and i'm glad i tried my best to read even if i knew i could barely understand. a third of this list is picture books and/or middle grade books and graphic novels because that's all i could handle at the beginning of the year. and you know what i found? a lot of those kids books are great, and heart-warming, and delightfully more nuanced than i had ever dreamed. the kids are gonna be alright.

...took 6 writing classes.

i'm glad i did this, but looking back on it this was kind of stupid. my brain was burdened by illness and my response was to... burden it more? for fun??? insane behavior. i highly recommend every course i took (chris amick's pilot development, multiple classes at writing pad, rad sechrist's project tv writing class, patricia villanuvella's 11-minute episode format class, and more) but i do not recommend taking them while your head is fucked. if anyone is interested in learning more about these courses, let me know!

...took on my first pitch project.

i was hired to help write and pitch a kids show, and learned a lot about the pitching process. mostly i learned that an upbeat attitude and a corny joke or two will go a long way. also, that the tv industry is an ouroboric cesspool constantly feeding on its own shit, but i digress.

...developed my first original show pitch.

it's uglier than sin but i love it. developing the pitch actually made me realize the concept is better as a novel series than a show, but i appreciate how much that process taught me about exploring format, structure, and the art of pitching.

...landed my first staff writing gig.

this was my proudest moment. in between numerous ER visits, doctor's appointments, health scares, housing issues, and more, i broke into the industry i love.

in 2022, i...

...was still pretty fucking sick, but doing better.

title says it all. despite losing my emotional support animal to leukemia, i hung in there. feels good.

...took on three writing mentees.

this is still the most shocking thing i did last year. i became a mentor to three fellow brown folks and i love them all dearly. i don't know if i'm a stellar mentor or anything, but i would do just about anything to help them reach their writing goals. i always thought i hated teaching, but it turns out i really enjoy working one-on-one with people as a guide rather than an instructor. my goal is to help all of my mentees break into their respective industries in the next two years.

...took three writing classes.

at this point i'm mostly taking these to meet people and learn new tips and tricks, but i still found them highly rewarding. plus, i realized i work best when i know someone expects to read what i've written the following week. nothing makes you keep a writing deadline like the pain of disappointing a peer! :D

...wrote 63,207 words for work.

i worked two staff writer gigs and seven freelance or contract gigs, and wrote more in a year than i ever have, ever. i know this number isn't high to prose writers, but a 25 page script is around 4,800 to 5,000 words. that's a lot of pages.

in total, i wrote around 22 scripts for work last year.

...wrote 50,018 words for original projects.

i only finished three scripts, and most definitely did not hit my goal of finishing my feature script, but i still finished. all three projects were complex, adult-oriented, and of personal significance to me, and it felt really good to finally finish them. i don't love all of them, honestly, but one of them got me my current manager and generated some buzz around my name that kept me employed, so i'm incredibly appreciative of the work i put into them, and the work they've given me in return.

...read 50 books.

this is my crowning achievement of 2022! i used to be an avid reader and then stopped out of nowhere for several years, but last year i fell back in love with reading, big time. i am proud to say that after a year of re-cultivating my reading comprehension and attention span, i can once again knock out a 300 page book in a day (with some assistance from my good ol' friend, hyperfixation). coaxing myself to just read five pages a day really helped me with some of the executive function issues of not wanting to pick up a book. if you're struggling with reading habits, i really recommend lowering your bar to entry. read for a minute, or read one page, or even just one paragraph. eventually the habit will reform and you'll be back to reading longer.

...wrote 51 loglines.

i struggled to come up with new, creative ideas in 2021, so this jump from 12 to 51 was startling, but highly satisfying. once i stopped worrying about whether the ideas were good, i was able to do more with the freeness that comes with happily being shit at something. and you know what? once i got the shit ideas out, i found a couple of really good ones at the bottom of the barrel.

...had a pretty alright year.

shit still went sideways, i was overworked and exhausted, and my personal life imploded, but looking back on it, i had a lot to be grateful for, and a lot of love and support in my corner, and i'm going to try to be mindful and thankful for the aforementioned as i push myself a teensy bit further in 2023.

...have a few goals for 2023.

they are:

work less, read more

write more indulgent stuff (gay porn, fic, all the nasty dark shit i like)

eat more veggies

do some fucking wrist exercises and get a desk pedaler because holy shit my joints are aging like MILK

thanks for reading.

[imabee-oralizard]

STRANGER THINGS S4 Episode 9 SPOILERS

I did this in my notes as I watched the episode. So if you’d care to read go ahead but it’s all over the place.

And @nevilleismywhore this is pretty much what I was gonna send to you for my thoughts so yeah

Joyce and hopper finally kissing!! Amazing. Made me so happy to finally see them not ignoring their feelings Max and Lucas conversation when they were writing on the paper was so adorable. And them planning a movie date 👀 And how would vecna not know that they were there just because they weren’t talking “Try before you deny” The way that will looked over at mike, el, and argyl was so sad Love the conversation between Jonathan and will Will crying definitely didn’t make me want to cry 😭 Els outfit looked so good when it was just the shirt and pants and she was getting into the water And I do kinda like the sunglasses that mike made It took me a minute to realize that “Lucas” was actually vecna and I was getting so mad at him like wtf how could you say that to her then I realized and was like ohhhh Also Eddie saying “this is for you Chrissy” was just so adorable And seriously those jocks had to come and be a pain in the ass for their plan Eddie and Dustin are such dorks and I love it. Them celebrating getting the bats distracted is just prime content I would’ve stepped on those vines are quickly like idk how they made it through The balloons popping blood made me think of IT This episode is giving me a whole different level of anxiety 3:40am and 1 hour and 16 minutes left. Bathroom and water break lol The speed my heart is beating at this moment. Eddie and Dustin fighting the bats and hopper being bait. My butt is literally clenched The tears are here. How could Eddie do this Also as Eddie rode away and the sky was doing that color thing it looked like two big monster eyes The subtitles said “wet footsteps sauelching” when vecna was walking 😭💀 ELEVENNNNN “I piggy backed from a pizza dough freezer”- eleven It’s 4am and 1 hour left Wait. If Dustin had to jump like that through to the upside down and not he’s hurt. How’s he supposed to get back The way that will looked at mike when he was confessing to el 😭I feel so bad for them Please tell me max isn’t dead Please say el saved her in time Please tell me Eddie is okay and that hopper gets the demigorgoms trapped Can we talk about how hot Enzo is though Vecna sounds like a dinosaur I’m surprised that vecna didn’t have the vines actually kill Nancy, Steve and Robin since he had them for so long Awesome sword Chrissy’s dead body in the background behind el 😭😭 (Hopper grunts) (vecna bellows) Kate bush in the background just sounds so good Max 😭my baby Nancy looks so hot with the gun How is my man not dead yet Love hopper slicing up the demigorgon (Understood, hopeful music) Yeah I’m crying now Eddie and max. How could they do this to me And don’t even get time to morn cause now we hear the grandfather clock. Of course What the hell is happening My WiFi is messing up 💀 Holy shit Is el gonna save max!!! Is she gonna kill herself to save max?? Two days later??!!!!!? Mike will and them are coming back to Hawkins not even knowing is their friends and family are still alive Cute reunion Max?? So she’s not dead but…. El brought her back you idiot Please tell me el gets her to wake up Why doesn’t Dustin have a leg brace Gay gay gay Dustin talking to Eddie’s uncle is just. I can’t it’s so sad Eddie better not be dead Argyle is the perfect amount of weird 😂 Is their world turning into the upside down?! Why didn’t I get my gay boys yet either Finished at 5:13am

[post-modern-prometheus]

Do you ship Mileven still or do you only ship byler romantically?

i don’t ship mileven romantically at all... however, they are my favorite friendship in the show, and you my friend have opened pandora’s box.

i see their relationship as the pinnacle of platonic love. i do think that mike fell victim to heteronormativity and the desire to be straight and ‘normal’, but i don’t think it was all a projection of how he feels for will. even though i am a dedicated byler shipper, i always cry when el walks through the door at the byers’ house. the look on both el and mike’s faces and the way they hug... they love each other. so so much. but not romantically. 

it’s hard to describe the difference. it’s more about, as mike says “a feeling”. i’ve never had significant other. but i have had so many very close friends that i care deeply about. if i watched one of them ‘die’ in front of me, but still feel as though they were still alive, i’d call them all time. if they then appeared, almost a year later, in the middle of one of the most intense nights of my life, i’d melt into their arms too. 

i think stand by me, one of the most prominent influences and referenced films in season 1, puts it best in the final scene. gordie writes about the adventure he had with his friends as a kid and finishes with: “i never had any friends later on like the ones i had when i was 12... does anyone?” i’ve never been as close with anyone as the best friend i had in middle school. i shared everything with her. it felt like we had the same brain sometimes. we were completely and platonically in love with each other. 

i think some people, on both sides of this ‘ship war’, forget that love isn’t only reserved for you significant other. the fact that the greeks had seven or eight names for different kinds of love is so beautiful to me. that’s what this show is about. yes, it’s a ‘love letter to the 80s’, full of songs, references, and nostalgia. but at its core, stranger things is a love story. of familial love with the byers and the hoppers. of romantic love with jancy and byler and lumax. of platonic love like the party and steve/dustin and steve/robin. elmike falls into the friendship category because they make so much more sense as friends. which again, is so hard to explain. they just, to me, feel better that way.

i know the et parallels have been brought up again in the tag recently, and i love it so much. i think that’s the easiest (and cutest) comparison of their relationship. the love and care that elliot/mike showed to et/el is one of the purest forms of love. which again, as we see by the direct parallel, isn’t always romantic. otherwise... that’s nasty. (also, taking care of people is mike’s love language.)

i like to imagine their break up in season 4 as a mutual realization of how they really feel about each other. i’d like them to come to the conclusion that el moving away was the best thing that could have happened to their relationship because they have to actually talk to each other instead of just making out. which let me be clear, romantic relationships don’t have to be physical to be valid. (i am, in fact, asexual, so i am acutely aware of that.) i just mean that by talking to each other they are able to understand how they actually feel about each other. you can’t talk to someone when your tongue is halfway down their throat. and through those conversations they have on the phone, they realized they were so much better off as friends. miscommunication was the reason for their issues in season 3. that’s very telling of where they’re headed.

all in all, i think there’s something beautiful about a friendship so strong that you- and other people- can mistake it for a romance.

[johnnys-breastmilk]

Strawberries Make You Horny (Part 2) | Peter Parker x Gender Neutral Reader

Part 1 of ‘Strawberries Make You Horny’ here

NSFW, 18+ ONLY FOR THIS STORY

A/N: so someone asked for a part two, and I was kinda nervous about writing smut since I don't usually write it. sorry if it sucks! (it really does suck imo...) also peter is aged up to 18 since it’s weird to write smut when he’s a child.

Warnings: smut, blowjob (Peter receiving), public sex, dirty talk?

Summary: Just a continuation of Part 1, in which you help Peter with his hard-on.

~~~

You tell Peter that he can help you with your problem down there after school, and the bells to switch periods rings in the middle of Peter bj. But he just makes you keep going.

"I guess you're right, (Y/N)," Peter said to you. A slight smile appeared on his face at the odd accuracy of your joke. "This is gonna suck when we head back to class, this is gonna last for hours."

"Peter, erections only last a half-hour at max. What are you talking about?" You asked him, watching his face as he processed the information. You couldn't help but laugh at the face he made.

Unbeknownst to you, everything about Peter was dialled to eleven thanks to the spider bite, even more so now when he's horny. He was unable to focus. This meant that he couldn't keep track of which details were exclusive to Spider-man and the ones that were exclusive to himself.

Peter tried to correct himself, "I meant it as an exaggeration— not that it would literally last for hours."

"I know, Peter, that'd be ridiculous if it did," You said to him as you held back another laugh. "I could still help you with it, though."

His face went red like it did minutes ago when you two shared the last strawberry, and he could barely speak.

"Well, I could— could never make you do that, (Y/n)," He said, trying to be assuring towards you.

You gave him a quick peck on the lips before replying to him, "I want to, though, Peter"

After telling him that you wanted to help, you shuffled yourself into a better position for giving a blowjob. Peter still sat with his back against the chain-link fence that bordered Midtown High's football field. You laid on your stomach in between Peter's parted legs, with your face hovering over his crotch.

You looked up at Peter, "I just want to make sure this is fine Peter, I don't want to push anything."

"Yeah, it's gonna help me focus, (Y/n)," He said, running a hand through his hair.

You started unbuttoning and unzipping his navy blue jeans, and Peter helped you pull them down along with his boxers. Doing so revealed his surprisingly long length that was practically begging to be touched by you.

You gulped at how big it was but carefully took his manhood into your hand, slowly jerking it.

"Ahh, fuck, (Y/n)," Peter moaned out, he practically melted at the small amount of contact between both of you.

Leaning forward, you took the tip of his dick into your mouth and started slowly bobbing as far down as halfway on it a few times. A few whimpers escaped from Peter's throat.

"Oh god, (Y/n)," He said in pleasure as he thrusted his hips in hopes of increasing that amount of pleasure he was receiving. His dick hit the back of your throat unexpectedly, which caused you to gag.

Peter quickly pulled out and started apologizing, "I'm— i'm sorry, (Y/n), I didn't mean to do that. You were just really good."

"It's good to know I'm really good at this, and it's fine Peter! Just let me know when you want me to go faster," You said, before taking him back into your mouth.

In a state of pleasure, Peter raised his right hand up towards the chain-link fence, as he intertwined a few of his fingers into it. His left hand snaked its way to the back of your head to control the lengths of each bob you were taking on his dick.

He kept letting out small whimpers as you got used to the amount of Peters length going in and out of your mouth. You felt that you were ready to take him all the way.

"Holy— holy shit, (Y/n)," Peter said in a state of pure bliss as you took all of his dick into your mouth and throat.

He used his left hand to keep you down on his cock, loving the feeling of your warm and wet mouth taking it all the way.

You felt like you could go at this for hours, but Peter had edged himself though and gave you a warning of when he was close just a little too late.

"Fuck, (Y/n), I'm cumming!" he shouted, and accidentally came in your mouth without having the chance to pull himself out.

You did your best to swallow it though, but some ran down your chin as you took him out of your mouth.

Peter got a worried look on his face as if he did something wrong and started apologizing quickly, "(Y/n) I'm so sorry, this was just my first time getting a blowjob and I didn't realise—"

"It's fine, Peter. It was my first time too, and I think it was pretty great," You said as you moved from in between Peter's legs to next to him. Both of you sat against the chain-link fence as you cleaned off your chin with some napkins Peter offered you from his backpack.

The bell to switch classes rang, signalling that gym class was over for both you and Peter.

"I think tomorrow we'll have to bring more strawberries with us because this was pretty great, Peter."

[atlabeth]

transferred part twelve - atla smau

masterlist | part eleven | part thirteen

this takes place about 2 weeks after the last chapter

summary: trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know that he’s falling for you as well. 

wc: 3.6k 

a/n: i’ve been writing bits and pieces of this since the start of this series so. enjoy. that’s all im gonna say lmao 

warning(s): cursing, mentions of familial death, mentions of abuse, some angst but also some fluff. this is kind of a heavy chapter because both zuko and y/n talk about their past, but there is fluff at the end. 

~~~~~~~~

You pushed your hair out of your face and tried to blink the sleep out of your eyes, catching a glimpse of the time on the corner of your laptop. 

3:23 AM. 

You should’ve been asleep a long time ago, but all of your professors had decided to schedule tests in the same week so it was one of many, many late nights you had had lately. You thought that they would cool down because midterms were coming up, but BSSU professors kept proving you wrong. Late nights like these were becoming a regular occasion, and right now you just needed a break. 

The tea dates with Zuko were the only things keeping you sane. But could you even call them dates? 

It was the two of you, together, sitting and talking over tea for hours, and they were happening multiple times a week. In fact, you and him had gotten tea together exactly 9 times in the past two weeks — and that wasn’t even counting all the talking during your shared shifts. 

Katara, Suki, and Toph told you that they were dates, you wanted them to be dates, but there was a part of you that was so incredibly scared that you were wrong — that moving past that bridge would ruin the friendship that you cherished so much with Zuko — that you kept things solely platonic. No matter how much you wanted to kiss him every time he gave you that smile. 

But thinking about the complicated relationship you had found yourself entangled in with Zuko wasn’t a break, no matter how many times you had pondered over it before falling asleep in the wee hours of the night. 

You closed your laptop and grabbed your jacket that had been carelessly tossed on a stool at the kitchen island, making sure to sneak out of the apartment as quietly as you could. You opted to work in the living room, choosing to camp out on the sofa whenever you had to stay up as late as this, just so you wouldn’t wake up Sokka. Your brother had no idea how much you did for him. 

The cool breeze hitting your face and the shining stars in the sky were a welcome change of scenery from the lifelessness that was your apartment at night and your computer screen that you were sure was going to cause you eye issues later in life with how bright it was. 

You took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling the crisp night air, and started to walk. You were sure you looked like a mess. You were wearing some flannel pajama pants, a BSSU tank top, tennis shoes, and Zuko’s jacket.  He had never asked for it back after that night at the party, and when you had showed up to one of your hangouts wearing it, he told you that you could keep it — “it looks better on you anyways” — so you did. 

There was something calming about the atmosphere. You knew that a lot of women were anxious about going out at night, especially alone, but that was why you had taken self defense classes. Being friends with Suki was a self defense class in its own, and it was very much appreciated. You allowed yourself to get lost in your thoughts, trying to give yourself the break that you deserved, when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. 

“You know, it’s not safe to be out alone at this hour.” 

You let out a scream at the unexpected voice and whirled around, your fists already up to defend yourself. When you saw who it was, you laughed, completely shocked, and hit your hands against your legs, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. 

“Holy shit, Zuko, you can’t just sneak up on someone like that!” you wheezed. You had no doubt that he only had good intentions, but for a second you thought someone was going to try and kill you. You had to admit, the scare was worth it to see the mix of horror and embarrassment on Zuko’s face.

“I’m so sorry!” His hands were held up placatingly in front of him and he let out a nervous laugh as well, but it did nothing to cover up the wide eyes he stared at you with. “I am so sorry, I didn’t even think about that. I- I was just up studying too, and I heard you leaving so I thought you could use some company- I swear, I wasn’t trying to scare you or anything!” 

You shook your head but couldn’t stop the smile on your lips, gesturing for him to come closer while you caught your breath. “It’s fine. Come on, walk with me.”

He fell into step beside you and the two of you walked in silence for a while, the only disruptions being the occasional car that drove by. It was eerily quiet, but with Zuko, it was nice. 

“So-”

“So-” 

Both of you laughed when you each interrupted the other, and when you motioned for Zuko to go first he shook his head. You paused for a moment, the question on the tip of your tongue, before you decided to take the plunge. 

“I’ve been wondering since I got here; how did you end up as friends with—” You gestured around with your hands. “—this whole crew? It’s kind of a weird combination of people, so I guess I just wanna know how you became a part of it.” 

Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his hair, causing your eyes to widen a little bit as a stammered apology came out. “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to-” He gave you a tight smile and shook his head. 

“No, it’s fine. You should know about my life if— if we’re going to keep living together.” He knew the moment he met you, the moment he agreed to let you live with all of them, that he would have to explain his past to you. Hell, your siblings might have already told you some of it — he could only hope you’d still want to be his friend after he was done. 

“”I.. I wasn’t the best person in the past. I was a horrible person actually, and I consider myself extremely lucky that I was given so many chances to change. I hurt people. Bullied people. Got into fights just because I could. I was just- horrible is the only way to describe it. But your siblings, Toph, Aang? They were all people that decided to give me one of those chances, and they’re a huge reason that I am who I am today.” Zuko spoke slowly, and you could tell that this was something he didn’t open up to many people about. You smiled softly at him and nodded, letting him know that he could go on. 

“I don’t know how much you know about my father, but he’s the CEO of our family company. He’s been this huge presence in the business world for as long as I can remember, and he’s responsible for all the wealth and fame that our family has today. And when I was younger, I idolized him. I thought he was the greatest man in the world, that he could do no wrong, and I just followed him blindly. He was the most important person in my life, but.. I was nothing to him.” 

“He didn’t care about his friends, or- or his family, he only cared about power. My mother left when I was young, we haven’t heard a word from her since, and- and I don’t even know if he cared. My father would do whatever it took to become as powerful as he could, and that meant—” Zuko’s voice was getting louder and he cleared his throat, trying to keep his cool. There was a certain hollowness behind his eyes, and it tore you to pieces. “That meant hurting anyone that went against him. Including his children.”  

“I have a sister, Azula. She’s a prodigy in every sense of the word, and my father used it, used her. She was clearly his favorite, and it drove me insane. I mean, I did everything for his approval, but he only cared about Azula. We had a good relationship when we were younger, but my father molded her into the kind of person he wanted her to be, and— and I was jealous of her. He used that against us, purposefully staked the fire of our competition, one that I thought I could somehow win. But we had both already lost the second we started fighting against each other.” 

“It took me a long time to realize that.. that he was abusing us. I mean, he gave me this scar all because I spoke out of turn, and— and I still thought that I could earn his favor, that he deserved to earn my favor! He threw me out of the house when I was thirteen, and I went to live with my uncle. It took an even longer time, but with his help, and the support of your siblings and their friends, I was able to break the cycle. I was horrible to them at first, all of them, and I hated my father for what he did, but it was probably the thing that saved me.”  “And Azula.. leaving her will always be my biggest regret. My biggest mistake. I should’ve forced her to come with me when I was kicked out, I should’ve done something sooner, because maybe she wouldn’t have turned out the way she did.” He swallowed hard, his voice strained. “I came back for her once I was stable, and I helped her get out. I helped her get a therapist. It’s been a long process, but she’s getting better every day. But not a day goes by where I don’t think about what I could’ve done to help her more.”

You instinctively reached out for Zuko’s hand, and to your surprise, he took it without question. You gave his hand a small squeeze and led him over to a nearby bench — without realizing it, the two of you had entered a public park that was near the complex. When you sat down together, you moved so that one of your legs was crossed in front of you and the other was hanging down so you could face him. 

“Zuko.. I am so, so sorry. I don’t think any amount of apologies will be able to get how I feel across, but.. you didn’t deserve to go through that. No one deserves to go through that.” You took both of his hands, thankful for the warmth they provided. “Listen to me. Are you listening to me?” 

He gave a pained smile and nodded. “Yes, Y/N. I’m listening to you.” 

“You are not who you were in middle school. You are not who you were in high school. Okay? Your father is a horrible man, and you wouldn’t have done any of those things if it wasn’t for him. What you did when you were younger wasn’t okay, but the fact that you have so much remorse for it today proves that you’re a good person. Zuko, you are a good person, one of the best men that I’ve ever met in my life, and I’ve only known you for a few months.” 

You were subconsciously rubbing calming circles into the back of his hands —  hands that were still holding yours — while you talked, but it was all Zuko could think about.  “I know you feel guilty about leaving your sister, but you did what you had to do to get out. You came back for her, and you’ve helped her get better. She’s grateful for it, Zuko, I know that much.” 

“Everyone else has forgiven you,” you murmured, staring deep into the fire he held in his eyes. “You deserve to forgive yourself.”

The silence that passed while you gazed into each other’s eyes felt like it lasted an eternity, when really it was only about a minute. Zuko was the first to break it, clearing his throat and looking everywhere but at you as his words tumbled out. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to dump all of this on you at once.”

“It’s okay, Zuko, really. I understand; sometimes you just need to talk to somebody. You don’t know how much it means to me that you trusted me with all of that. And.. if we’re still baring our souls to each other, then I guess I have some things that you should know as well.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek; were you really about to tell Zuko about what happened? Most people knew that your mother was dead — killed in a drunk driving accident when you were ten — but you had never told anyone, not even your father or your siblings, about the full effect it had on you. But his eyes told you more than he ever could, and in that moment you knew it would be okay. You could trust him with something you had never trusted anyone else with.

“I’m sure you know that my mother died when I was young.” He nodded and you swallowed, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in your throat. “It was.. hard. Really hard, on all of us. It was just so unexpected that we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t really have any money to spare, so my dad had to keep working, and I had to take care of Sokka and Katara. I was only eleven, but I basically had to take over the ‘mom’ role. Our grandmother came down to take care of us so we wouldn’t just be a bunch of kids living on our own, but even with her and Katara’s help, it was still hard. Sokka and Katara had to grow up much faster than they should’ve, even though I tried to shield them as much as I could.” 

“It was.. a lot. I won’t lie to you, it was a lot. Maybe too much.” A mirthless laugh hung in the air and you had to blink back the tears threatening to spring. “My mother was.. amazing. She was the only one who truly got me, you know? She was just this— this beautiful spirit in the world, and she brought light wherever she went. And when she died, it left this.. huge, gaping hole in my heart, one that I’m still trying to fill. I- I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fill it. I thought as I got older it would be easier, but i-it’s not. The three of us joke around by calling Katara mom because of how she is, and they sometimes do it to me, and I know that’s all they are, jokes, but some part of it still hurts.” 

You were rambling now, spilling your soul to Zuko, going into the most mundane details that you had never told anyone. You had taken away the dam that had been holding back the waters of your emotions for so long, and now Zuko was going to drown in them. But you couldn’t stop.

“It’s the reason why I didn’t drive for so long. I didn’t want to, I was terrified of it because of what happened to my mother, but someone needed to be able to take Sokka and Katara around. And- and as I got older, and I started going to parties and people started drinking, I never did. I couldn’t, I was always the designated driver, because I couldn’t leave that in someone else’s hands. I had to be in control, because if I let someone go, then it was like I was killing my mother all over again, and it’s the reason why I always have to be the one driving—” 

You paused to take a deep breath, and as you looked down at your hands, you realized they were shaking. Not just your hands, but your entire body. What the hell were you doing? You let out a tearful laugh, covering your mouth with one hand and shaking your head. “God, I am so sorry, I— I don’t know what got into me.”

Zuko’s eyes never left yours, his own glassy, and he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. Like you said, it helps to tell someone. A-and— I know how you feel, what it’s like feeling like you have to give up the world for your siblings. But you have to take care of yourself too. You’re not just what you can give to other people. You are your own person.”

He was thankful that you trusted him enough to tell you something like this about yourself, something that your own blood didn’t even know, but it also made him realize that you had always trusted him. 

Your point about driving. You liked to be in control so that if something did go wrong, there wouldn’t be any thoughts of what you could’ve done. If something happened, it was because of you and only you. And on your first day of classes, and many trips since, you had let him drive. It was something so small, so insignificant to anyone, but to you it was a sign of trust. 

You trusted him. 

“You’re shivering.” Your voice snapped Zuko back to reality and he shrugged, the smallest smile playing on his lips. 

“I wouldn’t be if someone had given me my jacket back,” he joked. You elbowed him in the chest and stood up, holding out your hand for him to take to help him up as well. Zuko took it and you ignored the butterflies that erupted, setting a steady pace as the two of you walked. 

“We should get back to the apartment. It’s late, and you need to sleep,” you chided. 

“You have bags the size of baseballs under your eyes. I think you need sleep just as much as I do.” 

“I’m special,” you shot back with a grin.

Yeah, you are, Zuko thought. 

The walk back to the apartment was shrouded in comfortable silence and intertwined hands, something that neither of you made any move to change.

~~~~~~~~

Soon enough you had gotten back to your rooms — such a small apartment meant that they were right next to each other — and as you turned on your heel to face him, a shy smile played on your lips. “Thank you. For, uh- coming after me. For listening to me.” 

“Of course,” he nodded. The two of you stood in silence for a while, and then Zuko reached out his hand. Your breath caught in your throat as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and the close proximity combined with the surprisingly intimate act caused your cheeks to heat up once more. It was like you were caught in a trance.

Your gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips for just a moment, and you could’ve sworn that he did the same. The air between the two of you was crackling with unseen electricity, and before you could question yourself you were leaning forward. 

You felt him lean in as well as your eyes fluttered shut, and his lips ghosted over yours. Your eyes snapped open and you stared at him, your lips slightly parted in disbelief — he just kissed you. Zuko just kissed you. It was like time had stopped — and then it all came crashing down. His lips came back to yours with an intense fervor, cupping your face in his hands to get as close to you as possible.

It was bliss in the purest sense. You reciprocated immediately, tangling a hand in his dark hair, letting out a soft gasp as your back hit the wall. Despite how many times you had imagined this moment, nothing could compare to the real thing. It was passionate but gentle all the same, and the warmth that spread through your whole body was familiar — it was Zuko. 

Your mind was a jumbled mess. It was split a million different ways; one part suddenly very worried about how your hair looked, one hoping that Sokka and Aang couldn’t hear you, another that didn’t care, but most of them were just screaming about how oh my god you were kissing Zuko.

You knew your whole face was flushed when you finally pulled away, and the warmth of his lips lingered as the two of you stared at each other, breathing slightly labored. You tentatively reached out your hand and softly, carefully traced your finger over a part of his scar. He flinched at the contact instinctively, but you felt him relax and even lean into your touch. It meant more than you could ever say, especially knowing what you knew now. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured, your touch impossibly soft against the cracked skin of his scar. “And you’re stronger than anyone knows. Than you know.” 

You kissed him again, shorter and sweeter than the first but just as tender, trying to memorize the feeling of his lips against yours as he returned it. You smiled at him and pushed your door open behind you, equal parts nervous and exhilarated about what just happened. “Goodnight, Zuko,” you whispered, shining eyes never leaving his until you closed the door.  

As soon as you were in your room you turned around and leaned against the door, smiling to yourself like an idiot. Your hand ghosted over your cheek, the spot where his hands had been, and you sighed dreamily. You had no idea how you were going to be able to finish studying. 

This was definitely more than a small crush. 

~~~~~~~~~~

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also i am so sorry i suck at writing kiss scenes dont roast me please

[fruitcoops]

I love reading all your works and they put a smile on my face everytime I see them. Is there any chance you could do a whole Lupin family truth or drink (with or without Sirius is cool too) thanks

Hello anon! Thank you for your kind words--they mean more than you know <3 Jules isn’t included here because he’s 10 and the questions are not suited for 10-year-olds, but this was so much fun to write all the same! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for alcohol and mentions of sex

“We’re back!” Marlene announced with a smile as she set up an unlabeled bottle on the table, along with three shot glasses. “And today, we’re doing something a little different with truth or drink. Loops, do you want to do the intros?”

Remus waved at the camera. “Hey, Lions, I’m Remus Lupin and these are my parents, Hope and Lyall.” He frowned and looked over at Marlene. “You toned down the questions, right? These are PG?”

“Nope!” she said cheerfully as she took her place behind the camera. “Take it away, Hope, it’s good to have you back!”

“It’s good to be back!” she said, smiling. “I had so much fun last time. Alright, Loops, describe your first kiss.”

He shook his head with a laugh. “It’s so weird hearing you call me that. Uh, I was seventeen and I kissed Ellie Sanders from down the street during her birthday party for a game of truth or dare.”

“Seventeen? I was expecting earlier, to be honest,” Lyall said as he took a card. “Hope, darling, have you ever been arrested?”

She reached for her shot glass and Remus’ jaw fell open. “What?”

“Well, I guess I have to answer it now,” she sighed. “Sweetheart, I grew up in the seventies and eighties, and your father and I met during a protest. This should not surprise you.”

“We can drink at any time, right?” Remus asked Marlene before taking a shot and drawing a card. “I could answer this one. Was I an accident?”

“Yes,” the three of them said at the same time.

“I was 21, he was 23, we had been married for three months and were not planning on having kids for at least six years,” Hope explained. She reached over and took Remus’ hand. “But you were the best accident. Okay, my turn. Have you ever had sex in my house?”

“I knew that kind of question was coming up,” Remus muttered. “No, I have not, and I don’t plan on ever doing it. My childhood bedroom is literally the least sexy place I can think of.”

“I don’t know, those plaid sheets and wall-to-wall bookshelves are really something, “ Lyall teased as he took a card. Remus rolled his eyes. “In a similar vein: when did you lose your virginity, and did you use protection?”

“Again, I was seventeen, and I did use protection because I knew I was gay at that point and didn’t want to risk anything.” Remus ran a hand down his face. “Ugh, this was not how I thought my day was going to go.”

“Was it the same night as your first kiss?” Hope gasped when he nodded. “Look at you go!”

“Oh my god, mom.” Remus picked a new card. “Ha! This should be interesting. Who’s your favorite child? Both of you have to answer.”

Hope drummed her fingers on her knees and Lyall bit his lip. “I love you for different reasons,” he finally said. “Jules is more cuddly and outgoing than you, but you actually have an off-switch and you’re a very kind person. Yeah, it’s an even split.”

“I can’t choose,” Hope said, tapping the edge of her card on the table. “You’re my boys and I love you. That’s all that matters. Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes, I have.” A soft smile tilted the edge of Remus’ lips up and he glanced behind the camera.

“Who are you looking at?” Marlene asked. “The viewers can’t see back here.”

“Oh! Sorry. My fiancé is on a bench by the wall with the car keys.” All three of them waved to Sirius. “Alright, dad, you’re up.”

“Which parent do you like more?” He mock-frowned at Remus. “I hope you know our future relationship directly depends on your answer to this single question from a drinking game on a Wednesday afternoon.”

“Just for that, I’m choosing mom,” Remus said, laughing when Lyall cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. “In all honesty, I don’t have a favorite. Like you said earlier, I love you both for different reasons.”

“What reasons?” Hope asked.

“Dad, you taught me to cook and got me into hockey, but mom encouraged me to stick with PT and always goes the extra mile.” He rolled his shot glass between his fingers for a moment. “I just know that I’m really lucky to have you both in my life, because you’ve been nothing but supportive.”

Hope dabbed at her eye with the sleeve of her sweater and Lyall took a deep breath. “Whew. Okay. Please ask something super awkward,” he said.

“I’ll do my best,” Remus laughed. His smile turned into a grimace when he read the card and he rested his forehead on the table.

Hope nudged him with her elbow. “What, are you going to chicken out this late in the game? We don’t raise wusses in the Lupin family.”

“You have to ask it,” Marlene called.

Remus sat up and shook his shoulders out. “Dad, have you—I am begging you to drink—have you ever performed oral sex on mom?”

“Performed?” Lyall snorted. “What is this, the circus?”

Remus handed him the bottle. “Please drink.”

Lyall poured himself a shot and drank it; just as Remus was starting to look mildly relieved again, he grinned. “Yes, I have.”

“Damn it.” Remus covered his face with his hands. “I should have known you would answer anyway. Jesus. I need to sear that from my brain.”

Hope took her next card and slid the bottle to Remus. “What’s your favorite sexual position? I really don’t need to know this, sweetheart.”

“No, you certainly do not!” Remus said brightly, drinking his shot. “In fact, I’m glad you don’t want to.”

Lyall cleared his throat and took a card. “What’s something I do that embarrasses you?”

“This game is rigged to give all the loaded questions to you,” Remus laughed. “You need to figure out what you want for gifts. You always say you want nothing, and then the day after Christmas you’re pining after something you never told people you wanted.”

“I do not,” Lyall scoffed. Remus and Hope shared a look and his eyes widened. “Hey!”

“Okay, my turn.” Remus’ eyebrows rose when he read the card. “When I moved out, were you relieved or sad?”

“Oh, shit,” Hope murmured with a sniffle. “I’m already crying. Both. There was a little bit of both.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The first move only happened for a little while when you went to college, but you moved back after the accident and that was…tough.”

“It was easy letting you go the first time,” Lyall said, softer than he had been yet. “You were ready then. The second time, we were so worried and also so proud of you for everything you had worked for.”

Remus scrunched his nose up and let out a shaky breath, leaning their temples together. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Hope whispered. Lyall ruffled his hair. She coughed lightly and took a new card. “Please be something uncomfortably sexual. Ah, bummer. If someone offered you $10,000 dollars to never talk to me again, would you do it?”

Remus snorted. “No.”

“What about $100,000?”

“Nope.”

“A million?”

“Is this an auction?”

“If someone gave you ten million dollars to never speak to me again, would you take it?”

“Holy shit, mom!” he laughed. “Do you want me to stop talking to you? Is this a hint?”

“We did good,” she said, giving her husband a high-five.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Would you guys stop talking to me for ten million dollars?”

“No, never,” Lyall assured him before turning and winking at the camera. Remus groaned. “Our minds have traded bodies—“

“They have? That explains a lot.”

“Shush. If our minds traded bodies, what is the first thing you would do in my body?”

“No offense, but I would run as far away from mom as humanly possible. We are not having any Oedipus moments in this household. The second thing I would do is reach things on the high shelves of my house, because even though I’m five foot eleven, my six foot three fiancé insists on putting things just slightly out of reach.” Remus craned his neck to see behind the camera. “Yes, I’m talking about you. Stop laughing!”

“You don’t think the aforementioned fiancé would be curious as to why your dad was suddenly on the front doorstep?”

“I would hope you would explain what was going on when you woke up in my body.” When Lyall didn’t answer, Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dad. If we switch bodies, I need you to promise me you won’t sleep with my fiancé.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“You’re not even into men!”

“How do you know?” He burst out laughing at Remus’ shocked expression. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. The first thing I would do is go skating, because I bet your knees don’t hurt after ten minutes. Then I would go to the dentist, because I know you’re bad about scheduling your appointments.”

“He’s right!” A distant voice called.

Remus gave Marlene a disbelieving look as he drew a card. “Is this turning into Remus Lupin Callout Hour? Alright, if you could change one thing about me, what would it be?”

“Scheduling skills,” Lyall answered immediately.

“Answering phone calls,” Hope added.

Remus seemed surprised by her answer. “You told Sirius you didn’t like it when he got into fights on the ice. I was expecting the same here.”

She shrugged. “It’s kind of neat, seeing my kid get in a rumble out there. I’m very proud of you. Less proud when you start bleeding, but that’s only because you have a very nice nose and straight teeth.”

“You heard it here first, folks,” Remus said to the camera. “My mother worries more about my nose and my teeth that the fact that I’m getting beaten up.”

“I think that’s the last question,” Marlene said with a laugh. “How are you all feeling?”

“I feel fantastic,” Lyall answered.

“I know far too much about my parents’ sex life.”

“It was one question,” Hope scoffed. “I feel wonderful, for your information. These are always such fun.”

“Should we ask Jules to come next time?” Marlene asked.

“Seeing as he’s ten and knows way too many embarrassing stories about me, absolutely not,” Remus said.

“We could give him apple juice, he’d have a good time,” Hope shrugged. “I would not oppose it.”

“You’re famous now, Loops.” Lyall grinned. “The tabloids would love having your baby brother as a gold mine of information.”

“Can I sign us off?” he asked Marlene. “Please tell me I can sign us off. I need to leave, like, five minutes ago.”

“You’re depriving me of content, Re!”

“Hey, hockey fans, thanks for tuning in to Lion Pride’s Truth or Drink! I’m Remus Lupin, these are my parents, and we hope you have a great day.”

[so-writing]

The Head Tolerates What The Heart Wants - Nolan Patrick (5)

Summary: You and Nolan broke up a few months ago and you’re both conflicted. Chaos ensues.

One. Two. Three. Four.

“Can you stop fucking moping and just call her?”

Nolan heard him clearly but what TK said was annoying and he wasn’t able to shake the thought of you getting down with Mathew Barzal. It pissed him off more than it should but he was too upset to understand how irrational he was being.

“No. She’s probably with Barzal anyway.” 

“Patty,” Travis rolled his eyes, “shut up. She isn’t with him.”

“Sure she is. He’s,” Nolan formed air quotes with his fingers, “wonderful, fucking amazing actually.”

Travis tried to hide how funny he found that, but his lips betrayed him as they quirked up into a smile. He knew your words hit Nolan but he’d be lying if he didn’t think a small part of him kind of deserved it. He’d never say it to Nolan but you weren’t the one in the wrong in this situation. 

“Patty, I know for a fact she’s not with him. Call her. Don’t be a fucking idiot.”

“Why should I give her the time of day when she’s fucking other players?”

That question had Travis laughing out loud. When Nolan didn’t laugh along with him, he straightened up and looked his best friend directly in the eye before rolling his own into the back of his head. 

“Didn’t you cheat on her? Why are you so fucking pressed?”

Nolan snorted and pulled his beanie from his head, running a hand through his hair, before replacing it.

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Well,” Travis started, “you need to do something. Call her, text her, write her a fucking letter, but do fucking something man.”

*

You casually exchanged texts with Mat, not quite willing to let go of him despite knowing that nothing serious would happen because you were too caught up in Nolan fucking Patrick and hating every second of it.

Pouring yourself a glass of wine, you turned on Netflix and decided to take a deep dive into The Office for probably the hundredth time. You put your phone on silent as you watched the slow burn relationship between Jim and Pam play out. You’d seen the episodes enough times to not get completely invested and your phone kept lighting up on the cushion beside you, so you gave in and checked your messages.

Hey from Nolan.

I’m sorry from Nolan.

You’re watching the fucking office again aren’t you from Mat.

Fool, don’t ignore me, I know better from Mat. 

Of course I’m watching the office, you ignorant slut to Mat.

You’re going to kill yourself pretending to kill yourself! from Mat.

You chuckled at the conversation you were having with Mat and quickly fired off the next message.

Prove it, let’s see your penis!

It was a rather cheeky text but Mat would definitely get the joke. The problem was that you hadn’t sent the text to Mat. You sent it to Nolan.

*

What the fuck?

Nolan paced the room as he considered your response. He said he was sorry and you asked him to prove it, and show you his penis and that made no fucking sense at all. He was sure that a dick pic was the last thing you wanted from him but Travis was right. He needed to do something, and while this wasn’t the way he planned to reach out, he made a quick decision to just go for it.

“Fuck,” Nolan sighed in defeat, “whatever.” 

He lifted his hips up from the couch he was positioned on, sliding his joggers down and stroking himself a few times before snapping a photo and making complete sure it went to you and only you.

Here you go he captioned the photo. 

A part of him felt very awkward about sending a NSFW photo to you, but he was mostly exhilarated by his bold move and anxious over how you would respond to it.

*

The amount of wine you drank was starting to get to your head, making you feel lighter and more giggly. You phone had been going off for a few minutes but you were too intoxicated to care. 

It wasn’t until you started to get annoyed by the constant vibration that you reluctantly answered, not bothering to check who was calling. 

“Hey, listen, about that text message-” 

Nolan. He didn’t even bother with a greeting, opting instead to jump straight into conversation.

“Sorry, what message,” you cut him off, confused and a little irritated by him for interrupting your evening.

You heard him speaking as you pulled your phone away from your ear and checked your messages.

Holy shit. 

You’d seen his dick countless times but this was different. Uh, what? If an unsolicited photo of his penis wasn’t enough to sober you up even a little bit, nothing else would be.

“What the hell, Nolan?! What the fuck are you doing sending me that shit? I don’t want a picture of your dick!”

“You told me to send you one,” his voice was shrill and panicked, “you said to prove I was sorry by sending you a picture of my dick!”

“Wait, what? No I didn’t.”

You pulled your phone away from your face once again and scrolled through texts, quickly realizing the that cheeky Office quote you’d meant to send to Mat had accidentally gone to Nolan. A wave of guilt washed over you as you pushed the phone back against your ear.

“That wasn’t meant for you, fuck, I’m so sorry, Nolan.”

“What?”

“I didn’t mean to send you that text. It was for someone else.”

Someone else. The words cut him like a hot knife easily splitting butter. He was pretty sure he knew who the text was meant for, but it took a few seconds of silence on his end before he could say it out loud.

“Barzal,” he mumbled, “you wanted a photo from Barzal."

“Yes, well no, no, it isn’t what you think. I fucking swear it isn’t what you think.” 

A wave of panic crept up your back as you tried to explain your way out of this one. You didn’t want Nolan to think you wanted to see anyone else’s anything. That was the complete opposite of what you wanted.

“That’s a pretty bold thing to say. I can’t imagine how someone could interpret it other than literally.”

“Nols,” he hated how soft your voice was when you said that, “it’s from The Office. It really is nothing.”

“Eleven seasons of that stupid show and all you can come up with is suggestive talk? Sure.”

“It’s only nine seasons,” you quietly corrected him, “but I get it. It comes off as incredibly suggestive if you’re not me or Mat.”

He sighed heavily into the phone, not willing to say anything until the quiet became almost unbearable. It was maybe 45 seconds, but it felt like hours. 

“I don’t want you to be with him, fuck, I know that’s so selfish but I can’t help it.”

“I’m not with him,” you assured, “I’m really not. We’re friends and that is all.”

“You had sex with him though, that isn’t a thing friends do.”

Your heart was pounding seemingly out of your chest as you shoved the phone into your ear, eating up everything Nolan said because, in your opinion, it sounded like he still felt something for you. 

“Do you regret it?”

You should have lied. You should have told him a small fib in an attempt to help the two of you try and fix this burning, broken that that lay at your feet. 

“No.”

“Really? Not at all?”

“No, Nolan, not at all.” 

“Did you do it just to hurt me?”

It was another chance to lie and work your way up with Nolan. You weren’t a liar though, that wasn’t a path you ever planned to take, especially being with someone so public. 

You assumed your truths would open him up more and make it easier for the two of you to communicate. 

“No.”

No, on all accounts. Nolan sighed heavily before ending the call without another word and you felt like you could fall into a black hole and disappear forever, that punishment felt worthy of how badly you fucked everything up.

[gubes-sweaters]

Never Be the Same (part 2)

Author's Note: This is part two to the once shot I wrote called Never be the Same. I honestly didn't like the one shot, and I was surprised by the overwhelmingly positive reaction. A lot of people on Tumblr wanted a part two so here it is. I’ve re-written this like three times and this ending I’m semi happy with. Also, don't worry there's a cute fluffy ending. 

Content Warning: Arguing, idk just really sad for like half of the story. 

Word Count: 2.8k 

Never be the Same (part 2): You Have Us

I wake up in a cold and empty bed the next morning. The blankets on Spencer’s side of the bed are still made, so he didn’t come home last night. The sun is stinging my already burning eyes from crying all last night. What did I do? Can we come back from this? I can’t call him and I have no clue where he’s at. I start to get worried to the point that I’m nauseous. I haven't been feeling very good as of late, but I'm chopping it up to the stress of Spencer coming home. I’m trying to think that this feeling in the pit of my stomach as of late is because of how he distanced himself. At first, he wouldn’t keep his hands off me, and he followed me around literally everywhere. Once week three of him being home rolled around, and he started teaching I became a second class citizen. I’m not sure what the freak out was about yesterday because after Spencer got home we didn't have any problems with sex. I mean it only happened once a day or two after he got home, but I thought because it already happened that it would come naturally to us once again. 

There's this feeling of nauseousness in the pit of my stomach as I feel the bile rise in the back of my throat. I quickly run to the bathroom and release all of my food from last night. After a minute I can finally pull myself off of the ground and brush my teeth. As I go to brush my teeth a little part of my brain remembers a similar situation I was in about a month before Spencer went to prison.

-Flashback-

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer consoles me as I’m hunched over the toilet. Despite being a germophobe he insists it’s okay because I need help.

“Yeah I might’ve picked up a stomach bug from work,” I say with my head resting on his shoulder.

He pulls me into a tight embrace before helping me off the ground. I walk over to the sink and go to brush my teeth, but as I do Spencer puts his hand over mine and shakes his head at me. 

“You shouldn’t brush your teeth right after you throw up. Just gargle some mouthwash it’ll have the same effect except you’re not brushing the acid into your teeth and gum line.”

“What would I do without you.”

“Probably have problems with plaque,” he says before kissing the crown of my head.

-End of Flashback-

I took Spencer’s advice from a while ago and went to use mouthwash but I couldn't find any. I check the medicine cabinet, a cabinet where we tend to keep extra toiletries for his go-bag, and finally, I check in the cupboard underneath the sink. When I grab the mouth wash I also knock over a small box. I pick it up and I’m reminded of the same day as the mouthwash memory. That day I've never seen Spencer as anxious, excited, and happy.

-Flashback-

“Are you sure? I think you’re being a little over dramatic,” 

“I'm completely sure that we should at least check. Between your nauseousness, acid reflux, fatigue, vertigo, and now you’ve missed your cycle twice. I think we have reasons to be at least a little suspicious. Please just take the test for me,” He says while passing me the box with two tests in it.

“Fine, but I don’t think I’m pregnant. So don't get your hopes up,” I say before walking to the bathroom. 

I take one of the two tests and Spencer and I wait the ten excruciatingly long minutes. Eventually, the timer went off, and we just stared at each other silently begging the other one to look. Eventually, I conceded because I'm super impatient. I picked up the stick and there was only one line there wasn't even a faint tiny second line. 

“As disappointed as I'm sure we both are, we have time. This means that we can both do some pre-planning for our little genius.” I tell him with a sad look on my face reflecting the same look Spencer has on his face. 

He just nods in silence. I can tell this really hurt him. Partly because he was so sure, and he's not one to be wrong normally. I can tell that he's mostly disappointed that I wasn't pregnant because he wants to be a father so bad. At least he took my advice for taking this time to plan very seriously. He came home the next day with three baby books which he read them all before I even finished cooking dinner. 

-End of Flashback-

That same feeling Spencer had that I lacked the first time I took one of these tests is now very present, but this time I'm the one with the feeling. Something in my gut is telling me to take this test. It’s really stupid because I don't want to worry about my boyfriend and a baby. This couldn't be a more inconvenient time. I'm not on birth control because I've had a bad reaction to the pill in the past, so it’s possible. My heart is telling me, yes, but my brain is telling me no that I'm stupid and I should be worrying about Spencer right now. I go against my brain's wishes and I take the test. In the meantime, while I'm waiting for the test results I set a ten-minute timer, and then I call JJ. We've been friends for a long time now, and she's the reason I met Spencer. When it rings through I assume she’s busy, so I decide to call Garcia instead. 

“What's up sugar plum?”

“Hey Pen I hate to ask this of you, but I'm really worried about Spencer. I know he always leaves the house with his work cell no matter what. He left last night and hasn't been home since. I'm worried about him. Can you at least tell me if he's okay?”

“Of course doll. Give me a moment. Is everything alright between you two?” she asks while her fingers were furiously typing away at her keyboard.

“Yeah, just a little bit of a disagreement, nothing to write home about.” 

“Okie Dokie his work cell first pinged off a cell tower near Morgan's house, then pinged off a tower near a bar down the street, then finally he’s been at Morgan’s ever since. Is that all I can help you with?” 

“Yes, thank you! I owe you one.”

“Oh please sugar the pleasure is all mine.” She says in a flirty tone before hanging up.

Next on the agenda is to call Morgan. I know him pretty well because I was dating Spencer for a couple of years before he retired from the BAU to be with his son. I call Morgan but it rings through. I decide that I might get better results if I talk to Savannah.

“Hey girly! Let me guess you want your boyfriend back;” She says in a goofy tone.

“Huh?”

“Spencer came here last night and said he needed to blow off some steam. He, Derek, and Hank went down to the park about half an hour ago. He didn't look upset at all today or yesterday, so I don't know what he means by blowing off some steam. Either way, he and Morgan have been all smiles all day. I figured something was off because he came here with tears in his eyes, but he hasn’t been crying since-”

Beep

Beep

Beep

The alarm interrupted both of our thoughts. I walk over to the test as I stammer out a sentence if you can even call it that. With a shaky hand, I pick up the test and look at the stick with two very defined pink lines.

“Hey...hey...um can I come over and talk to Spencer there. We had a bit of a disagreement last night. I think it would be best if someone like Morgan with a level head was there. Only if it’s okay I don’t want to intrude,” I say, my voice and hands shaking as my eyes start to well with tears.

“Nonsense you’re always welcome at our house. Any time of day I'll let the both of them know you’re coming over once they’re back from the park.”

“O--okay I'll see you in a bit,” I say before hanging up.

I decide that I need to calm myself down before driving far out to Morgan’s house. I go to the dollar store not far from our apartment and decide to take two more tests just in case. I also took this time to collect my thoughts and come to terms with the fact that I’m pregnant. Holy shit I’m pregnant! Sure enough, both tests also came back positive. There’s only one possible time it could’ve happened so that means I’m ten going on eleven weeks along. 

I drive to Morgan and Savannah's house with two of the three tests in my purse. This isn't the perfect time but I hope that Spencer will hear the good news and the old Spencer might come back to me at least part of him. I take a deep breath as I put my car in park, preparing myself for the worst and best possible situations. As I knock on the door I can feel my heart speed up faster and faster. The door opens to Savannah with a big smile plastered on her face.

“Hey, it’s nice to see you. I’ve missed you so much and I'm sure Morgan does too.” She says before stepping to the side and welcoming me inside.

“It's nice to see you too. Spencer isn't upset is he?” 

“No, he's actually sitting with Hank in the living room. He and Morgan have watched Hank trip over his feet for the past hour.”

We both walk into the living room and sure enough, the sight is enough to melt anybody’s heart. Hank uses the coffee table for balance, and he's walking back and forth between Spencer and Morgan. 

They both look up after Hank falls on his butt once more. Spencer gives me a tight-lipped smile and Morgan picks up Hank before walking over to me. 

”Spencer explained what happened. He doesn't know how to apologize for being so defensive and scared. Be a little lenient on him.” he tells me in a very calm and patient voice. The type of voice that a father should have. I baby talk hank and take in how much he's grown in a short amount of time before making my way over to Spencer. Savannah and Morgan leave the room monetarily and I sit next to Spencer in an awkward silence for a couple of moments.

It was completely silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. It wasn't until the silence was broken by the sniffles Spencer was trying to contain. I turn to see that hot tears are streaming down his face, and he's looking at me not like he's not angry but scared. I reach out to touch his arm and I hate the way his muscle tensed under my touch. Is he that disgusted with me? He can't even let me be near him comfortably.

“Can you please say something...anything at all.”

“I’m scared,” that's all you hear out of Spencer before he starts sniffling once more.

“Spencer why? Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“I’m scared of myself. I’m not the same person I used to be. I’m scared you’re going to leave me because I'm not the same. I'm just terrified that I might hurt you even.”

“Oh Spence, you didn't hurt me and I know you wouldn't. If you’re referring to last I know you never would. We need to talk about this. Why did you even go to Morgans in the first place.”

“I knew that I'd be far from you. Morgan had to learn more than once how to feel normal again after a traumatic situation. He also knew what it was like to possibly lose Savannah. I just needed a distraction. I'm sorry I snapped at you, but I didn't want you to press the issue.” He says just barely above a whisper. He can't even look me in the eyes he feels so ashamed. If he does make eye contact it’s a split second, and he looks like a kicked around puppy.

“Spencer… I’m not going to act like I know what you’re going through, but something I can do is be with you the whole time. I get Morgan is like your older brother and you look up to him, but this kind of feels weird having this serious conversation here.”

“I know it feels like we’re invading a bit, let's just go home.”

-time skip-

“This feels much better,” I say as I throw my keys on the countertop.

“It sure does.” He says standing right behind me.

Before he can protest I wrap my arms around him so tight I basically have a death grip on him. After he relaxes into my touch he starts to nestle his face in the crook of my neck.

“I’m just scared of losing you, hurting you, or upsetting you. I realize pushing you away and yelling at you did nothing but put me in jeopardy of doing all three.” He says as I can feel each breath pass along my neck. It feels like home because this apartment isn't home without him. 

“You’re not going to lose me. I love you so much. I'll always be there for you… we’ll always be there for you…” I trail off.

“Yeah I know… wait who else?” He asks while pulling me from him just enough, so he can see my face. With a proud smile from ear to ear I decide it’s now or never to tell him.

“Well, we won’t get to meet them yet. Give it about six months.”

“Wait, you're pregnant?” He asks totally dumbfounded. An IQ of 187 to 60 just like that. I just nod as the tears start to fall, but instead this time they’re happy tears.

“Oh my god! I’m going to be a dad!” He says as he picks me up and twirls me really quick.

“Wait, are you okay? I didn’t cause too much stress right? We’re going to have to do so many things we don’t have enough time. What if I’m not ready?” Panic thickly laced in his voice. His head is obviously going a million miles a minute. I need to bring him back down to earth and quickly.

“Love it’s going to be okay. I saw you with Hank today and I’ve seen you with Henry and Micheal. They all absolutely adore you. It’s going to take time, there's still a lot of healing. It’s all going to be okay because we’re going to have the little family we’ve always wanted. We can worry about all of the details tomorrow. I just want to be right next to you for the rest of the night. Okay?” I say as I lead him to the couch.

“Okay,” He says with a larger than life grin on his face. He leans in to kiss me and this time it wasn’t rushed or filled with dread. It was like he was putting all of his love into one tender little kiss. 

“I wish we had more time at Morgans. To think that’s going to be us one day soon. Hank was so adorable waddling around. He couldn’t even get a couple of inches before he fell back on his butt.” Spencer says as he wraps his arms around me. We're cuddling in a way that we're both lying on the couch but my back is to his chest. He rests his chin on my head and his hands on my lower belly. 

“Spencer I love you so much, but you have no room to talk. You don’t have much better coordination, Hank might even have you beat.” I giggle a bit before leaning back into him even further.

He laughs at me, and he knows it’s true because he doesn’t even try and rebut what I just said. Finally, everything feels like it’s right back into place. Sure, Spencer will never be the same again, but we can work with what we have. Deep down he’s still just as loving, hopeful, kind, caring, and empathetic as he once was. It’ll just take time, and we have about six months to spare.

.

.

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Taglist: @rexorangecouny @haylaansmi​

[lyssismagical]

hello! do you take prompts? i really wanna read something where peter is quarantined with the starks and one day he’s on an online class and all of a sudden tony interrupts him with something and his classmates on the sceen are like :o

Oops sorry this took so long to write but here we are :) 

(TW Covid Mentions)

(Also @justme--emily wrote one with a similar prompt so go read that one too)

Peter drops his bag on the front porch, crossing his arms over his chest as he steps across the threshold into the cabin. This is the first time in the past year and a half that he’s been visiting the cabin that he hasn’t wanted to be here.

Happy hovers behind him, frown plastered on his face as he meets Tony’s worried gaze.

“You okay, kiddo?” Tony asks. He reaches out like he’s about to comfort his kid, but he stops short. “You should probably- Uh, wash off before I…”

Peter nods, offering a forced smile, not bothering to answer the question. He ducks down the hall towards his bedroom, once a guest bedroom but now adorned with Star Wars posters and littered in his things. It’s his in a way that he never thought would be allowed before the Snap when he used to pack all of his things up when he left the tower after ‘Training Weekends’ or ‘Internship Retreats.’

The word pandemic still rings in his head. A scary thing to be experiencing, even if he knows he’ll be perfectly safe living in the cabin, virtually in the middle of nowhere. Especially with Pepper, who’s a perfectionist and a clean person, paired with Tony’s concerning health detriments.

But May’s out there in Queens, alone, working as a nurse, and Peter’s upset. He doesn’t want her to be alone, he doesn’t want her to be in danger, he doesn’t want her to be put in the line of fire. But he knows this is what he does to her every day when he goes out as Spider-Man, throwing himself into dangerous situations and leaving her by herself to fret.

It’s fair, he knows that, and she’s the true hero, but he still hates that she’s out there by herself.

He stands in the shower for longer than he needs to, long since finished his washing to make sure he’s clean, even though he hasn’t seen anybody since the announcement of the pandemic, other than Happy. He wasn’t even allowed to hug May goodbye.

Eventually, though, he’s not allowed to continue his sulking, so he heads downstairs for lunch, even if he wants to hide away in his bed for the next few months.

“Peter!” Morgan shouts, racing up to him and throwing her arms around his hips. She’s grinning up at him, showing off one of her missing front teeth. “We missed you so, so, so, so much.”

“Wow, that’s a lot,” Peter says, half-heartedly, scooping her up into his arms and kissing the top of her head. He knows he’s not acting like himself, he sees it in the crease of Tony’s forehead and the pout that adorns Morgan’s face, but he’s tired and he doesn’t feel like putting in the effort of pretending.

It’s been a little while since schools were closed, so Peter already has plenty of homework stacked on his shoulders, along with MJ’s Academic Decathlon meets she insists still need to happen twice a week.

He tries not to let that show in his face when he offers a tired smile at Tony who leans forward to press a kiss to the kid’s forehead.

“I know this all sucks, and I know you’re worried about May, but it’s her turn to be the Parker Hero, alright? She’s going to be okay.”

“And if she’s not?” Peter asks because he knows he’s had to. It’s a painful reflection of the amount of loss he’s faced. “What then?”

“We’ll figure it out if it comes to it,” Pepper says. She, like everybody, looks tired and worry pinches her features.

Peter nods like this is all perfectly fine. Like he’s okay with sitting in the cabin day-in and day-out while May works tirelessly in the city.

“Think of it this way, by staying home and not Spider-Manning and following the rules like the rest of civilization, your aunt will have less people in the hospital with her and less chances of catching anything. Does that?”

Peter shrugs, slipping down into one of the kitchen chairs. “Sure… I’m fine. I’m just tired. I wanna sleep for a thousand years.”

“May sent me a general idea of what your schedule was looking like, and as much as I condone healthy sleeping schedules, you have a Decathlon meeting in a few hours.” Pepper casts a glance at the obvious circles under Peter’s eyes. “But after that, you can sleep through the rest of the day. You deserve it.”

Tony serves up some breakfast for them. Blueberry pancakes after Morgan had demanded a special breakfast for Peter’s arrival.

And it makes Peter feel a lot better already.

Tony makes stupid dad jokes that make Morgan crack up in hysterical giggles, especially when Peter rolls his eyes overdramatically as they get worse and worse. And Pepper playfully scolds them for making a mess with the syrup which makes Peter ‘accidentally’ pour too much syrup on his plate which makes Morgan almost fall out of her chair she laughs so hard.

And Morgan’s laughter is infectious. Peter finds himself laughing along, tired smile slowly becoming his regular grin.

After breakfast, Peter calls May and talks to her on the phone about how work’s going and about the Stark Family. He promises to call her every day around the same time to check in, and she promises to pick up as often as she can.

And then he makes sure Pepper knows he’ll be attending his Academic Decathlon call in his bedroom, so if she could keep Morgan busy, that’d be for the best. There’s something quietly alight in her smile when he says his bedroom.

It’s nice to see his friends again, even through the screen.

Ned, MJ, Betty, Cindy, Abe, Zach, Flash, and Brad are all there on the screen, grinning back at them like they’re just as excited to see all the little pixelated faces.

It’s so different to see everybody in their pajamas, or at least sweatpants and old hoodies, hair messily uncared for. Even Flash’s hair is sticking up in a bedhead way and he’s obviously sitting in his bed, not even bothering to drag himself to a desk for the call.

“You know it’s eleven, right?” Ned whined. “I was planning on sleeping in until at least two. How do you look put together, Peter? That’s literally so unfair.”

“I haven’t slept yet,” Peter admits, laughing a little too carefree. “Oops?”

MJ rolls her eyes, something Peter didn’t realize how much he’d been looking forward to seeing, and she quickly pulls the meeting back on track, pulling out her hefty stack of cue cards to quiz them.

Eventually, an hour or two later, there’s a knock on Peter’s door and Tony pokes his head in.

“Sorry to interrupt, kiddo,” he says, a warm smile on his face. He holds out a Hello Kitty mug. “I made you some coffee. May said you’ve finally caved and joined the coffee-drinkers.”

Peter grins, gratefully accepting the warm mug and holding it to his chest. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Holy shit,” Flash says.

“Mister Stark!” Ned waves exaggeratedly.

Tony smiles, waving back at the screen. He looks like a real dad standing in Peter’s doorway in his sweatpants and an old, fraying MIT sweatshirt, hair messy and smiling proudly.

Peter winces, though, hoping this isn’t about to wildly throw his life off course.

“You actually knew Tony freaking Stark,” Flash says, eyes wide in the screen. He shoves a hand through his hair in a poor attempt to flatten it.

“I told you I did. Not my fault you didn’t believe me,” Peter says, shrugging. He turns back to Tony. “Thanks for the coffee. I should be done in a bit.”

“Have fun, kiddo. I’ll have lunch ready for you when you’re done.” He pulls the door shut behind him as he leaves.

Everyone on the screen has matching expressions of dropped jaws and wide eyes, other than Ned who’s grinning mischievously and MJ who just looks bored.  

“I can’t believe you were telling the truth this whole time,” Cindy says, followed by Betty’s, “I mostly believed you because I saw you with the new Starkphone, but you’re actually living with Iron Man.”

“Oh my god,” Flash says.

Peter shrugs. “Yeah. He’s nice and all, but he spent nearly an hour telling the worst dad jokes I’ve ever heard, so don’t let him fool you with the whole cool-guy persona he puts on for the public.”

Nothing’s really right in the world, but Peter’s always been the kind of person to find the good pieces of the bad. He’s got the Starks to keep him company and to help him out with everything, Tony’s a pretty good cook, Morgan’s the greatest little sister the world could ask for, and he’s got his friends, just a phone call away to make his anxieties fade even just a little.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @tonystarkweneedyou {Let me know if you want to be added or removed}

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter six: starving limbs

word count: 9.4k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: body horror, hallucinations (?), joseph spends .000000003 seconds about to go demon but manages to rein it in. uhhhhh LOTS of uncomfortably awkward dialogue. and allusions to past ~steaminess~. that should be it!

notes: this chapter is a tiny bit of an interlude! we get some new players introduced (please note the tags), some ssssssssslooooooooow development with john and elliot too, and just a bit more intrigue. sorry in advance that i can't write anything that doesn't have both body horror and horror-humor in it.

thank you to my beloved @starcrier​​ and @shallow-gravy​​ for putting their eyeballs on this for me, and @vasiktomis​​ for listening to me wax and wane poetic about my agonies; i would be nothing, no-one, without you, and i love you all so dearly!

“Who was that?”

Tall, short-cropped blonde hair. Lots of dark layers. A bolt-action rifle with a scope on it.

“Jacob.”

Not one of ours, he thought, turning the truck onto the highway. Not one of ours. Thought the fuckers were all dead or gone. Where the fuck did she come from?

“Why aren’t we going back to the compound?”

Did she set Fall’s End on fire?

“Jacob?”

“Holy shit.” He exhaled the words out of his mouth, billowing out of his chest in a sigh that only barely scratched the surface of his frustration at listening to Isolde pester him nonstop. Without looking at the brunette next to him, Jacob said, “You must be where John learned how not to shut the fuck up.”

He could feel Isolde’s eyes narrow more than he saw it happen. “I think that’s a Seed trait.”

“If I knew who that was,” Jacob continued, glossing over her little barb, “don’t you think I would have said?”

“Oh, please. You seem the type to get off on being withholding,” Sol snipped pointedly. He shot her a look.

“Don’t throw a tantrum, Isolde.”

“So why aren’t we going back to the compound?” She pressed, and Jacob’s mouth twisted into a grimace. It was a fair enough question—more fair than the initial one she’d posed, anyway—but even now, to a woman that was arguably close enough to a sister-in-law one way or another, he found himself reluctant to elaborate.

It had been over a year of refusing to expand upon questions his brothers posed, absences from family gatherings or an unwillingness to pursue people who had shown a clear romantic interest in him. There were some things that—well, that he had selfishly wanted to keep for himself.

“Gotta pick someone up,” is what he said after a moment, turning down the highway toward the Whitetails.

Isolde turned the heater up, and glanced behind them, as though their little guest might have taken to following them. “And who, pray tell, are we picking up?”

He exhaled out of his nose. “Stop asking questions.”

“Well, you Seed boys have a habit of leaving crucial information out!” Isolde snapped. “For example: John led me to believe that this encroaching cult was well and done, taken care of, extinguished, eliminated, exorcised—”

“You’re on a tangent.”

“There wasn’t supposed to be anymore,” she said after a moment. “Hunting. Killing. It was—you lot were supposed to be all done, now that you’ve run the folk out of their own home.”

Jacob glanced over at Isolde. Bundled up in thick fabrics, but still blushed from the cold, she looked quite small; for a woman clocking in at five-foot-eleven, he thought he’d never seen Isolde so swallowed-up, wallowing, despondent.

“You got an opinion on that?” Jacob asked dryly.

“You know that I don’t,” she muttered. “Just wish you’d have left the bloody fucking mess behind before I got here, is all.”

“I know it might offend those delicate sensibilities—”

“I’m tired of talking now, Jacob, if you’d like to let me lament the loss of my tranquility in peace.”

It took a lot of self-control to not bite out a response. Naturally, talking and conversation were only convenient when Isolde herself had something to say. It seemed she really hadn’t changed all that much, had she? Maybe it was good that she was here, after all. When John had first mentioned over the phone that she was coming down, he’d pictured that she’d mostly be a hindrance—unnecessary drama, despite the fact that he knew she had every capacity to act professionally—but as of late, Joseph had been...

Well. Out of sorts. Perhaps a slap of a reality check would be good for him.

They drove deep into the Whitetails, far enough out that the radio reception crackled and disappeared, leaving them in silence. The clouds were swollen and gray with unshed snow; threatening, looming with the potential to dump, but not quite there yet. All the snow as of late had been a bit heavier than what he would have anticipated, even for Montana.

“So are you going to tell me who our mystery guest is?” Isolde asked after a while, once he was turning up the long, familiar drive to a house that didn’t belong to him.

He flicked the lights of the truck on as the tree-cover turned the dim, overcast light darker. “Name’s Arden.”

“Very helpful.”

“‘S a vet,” he continued. “Worked in Fall’s End. Couple of years.”

“Like the animal kind?” Isolde pressed.

“Mhm.”

“Very fitting for your brood.”

“Ha-ha.”

Another stretch of silence, another turn up the drive, and then: “So?”

Jacob exhaled through his nose. It was either now, or later, and to be honest, he thought he might prefer delaying the inevitable over listening to Isolde complain, but he knew that he needed to just rip the bandaid off.

“She’s...” He searched for the word, shifting in the driver’s seat. “My...Partner.”

Isolde was silent for a moment, but he could feel her eyes on him—insistent. Impatient. Incredulous. A variety of other i-words that properly encapsulated whatever flurry of emotion she was feeling at that moment.

“As in—” Isolde stopped. “Romantic?”

“I guess,” he said.

“You guess?” She scoffed, but her voice was a bit lighter now, lifted by the curiosity. “Is she cute?”

Jacob stared ahead. That detail felt like it went without saying.

“Smart?” Sol prompted. “Funny? Makes you smile? Inspires in you the desire to procreate?”

“We have dogs,” he replied, “together.”

“Oh, if that’s all.”

He muttered, “This is worse,” under his breath, drawing her eyes back to him—as though she had ever stopped trying to pick him apart while this excruciating piece of conversation dragged on—and she cocked her head to the side.

“Worse than what?”

“You complaining,” Jacob said plainly. “You can go back to that, if you want.”

Isolde purred, “No, I think I’ll stick with interrogation.”

He shot her a dry side-glance, lips pressing into a thin line. This wasn’t supposed to be how this went—this whole...Interaction. Introduction. He certainly never pictured that Isolde would have been the first person to meet Arden as his partner, and not Hope County’s veterinarian, but. Well.

Nothing to be done about it now.

He put the truck in park as soon as they’d pulled in front of a small, tidy cabin, far enough out that you’d have to know where to go to find it—it wasn’t something that would just be stumbled across. By now, the late afternoon had started to turn murky; what little overcast light had been making it through the boughs was nearly strangled now by the approaching nightfall.

“Stay,” Jacob said, leaving the keys in.

“Do not speak to me like a dog, Jacob.”

He turned his head to look at her, expression pulling tight. She sniffed.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

He got out of the truck, slamming the driver’s side door and trudging through the snow—only half-shoveled—up to the front door. Through the window and the curtains, he saw the cut of amber light from the reading lamp he knew was by the door, the tangle of warm limbs barely kept under a knit throw blanket. It was a bit too comfortable, in there; too easy to remember the times he’d come to this house just like this, skim his hands under the blanket as he sank into that couch. The last few months had been a bit more demanding than he’d anticipated.

Just as he reached for the door, it swung open with a happy creak, and he was greeted by a familiar face. Just not the one he wanted.

“Well, if it isn’t the big man himself!” the dark-haired man greeted, chirping happily. “Good evening, captain. We were anticipating your arrival.”

“Santiago,” Jacob replied flatly. He gestured with one hand, an indication he was ready to come inside. Santiago flashed a charming grin and made a sweeping motion as he stepped to one side. It had been two months of having John’s favorite lapdog watching after Arden, and two months of hearing the Faithful’s infuriating voice over the radio every time he tried to touch base.

It was all easily forgotten, even as Santiago chattered in the background, saying something elaborate and useless as he made his way into the living room and spotted her; just like he’d glimpsed through the window, Arden was curled up on the couch, book in hand, reading lamp on and dogs asleep on the floor.

The beasts—glossy, long-haired Belgian Shepherds named Castor and Pollux—lifted their heads almost simultaneously, regarded Jacob, and then wagged tufted tails against the floor. They only looked at him for a second before their pointed snouts turned expectantly toward Arden.

She said something, quick and soft and foreign, and they leaped to their feet immediately to crowd him, large enough that their heads tilted to gaze at him reached past his hip bones even while they obediently remained on all-fours.

“Boys are sleeping on the job,” Jacob said gruffly as he gave them each two quick pets, lifting his gaze from the dogs to Arden. The corners of her mouth ticked upward, amused.

“They’re on break. State-mandated.” Her head tilted, loose curls framing her face where they’d fallen out of her bun. “Santi and I heard some chatter on the radio. Fifteen, huh?”

He grimaced, just for a second. His hands itched—to card through her hair, to tilt her face up—but he stayed where he was and instead watched as she came to a stand, tossing her book onto the couch. There were a lot of things that he thought about saying; questions beyond what their brief conversations had been, things that had been sitting on his mind.

Are you happy? Are you happy with this world I’m preparing us for?

“I’m taking you to the compound,” is what he said instead.

Arden laughed, reaching up to cup his jaw. “I figured you wouldn’t be rolling up to my house near-dark after two months of forcing me to cohabitate with Santiago just for fun.”

“In preparation,” Santiago intoned dutifully from the kitchen, sounding like his mouth was full, “for our rapidly impending marriage, cariña.”

“Enough,” Jacob interjected, “out of you, Vidal. Arden, is your stuff ready?”

“Yes, I packed.” She moved to the window, hoisting a bag off of the ground and glancing out through the glass. “Who’d you bring?”

Jacob took in a breath. Too much was going on, and not enough was happening in the way that he wanted it to. The stranger with a precise shot was still hungering in the back of his mind for his attention. When he’d dropped John’s little attack dog here two months ago, he’d intended his next stop-by to be taking Arden to the bunker. Elliot’s killing spree had only made that time longer, and then the Family had rolled into town, and now—

Well, now he was tired of looking for reasons to delay bringing her home, and just needed the one to do so.

As Santiago began gathering his things—decidedly less ready than Arden was—he crossed the room to where she was, turning her face from the window and back toward him.

“Oh,” she said, pleasantly. “Hello.”

“You get whatever you want,” he murmured, “for putting up with that incessant chatter.”

“One thing? Or many things?”

“Negotiable.” He grimaced. “Depending.”

She flashed a smile, tilted her head, and kissed the palm of his hand. “Hm. Brave of you.”

“Dr. Hale,” he rumbled, voice pitching low, watching the way her lashes fluttered prettily and her chin tilted. Expectant. But not yet, Jacob thinks. Not yet. “Are you plotting to extort me?”

Arden’s chin tilted out of his grasp, and she squirmed out from between him and the window, slick as can be despite her height. The woman was all wiry muscle, quick and precise movements, nothing wasted and nothing tossed aside. “Perhaps,” she replied over her shoulder, “but it wouldn’t be plotting if I told you, now would it?”

“What’s the word for ‘here’?” Santi asked from the hallway. “You know, for the hounds?”

Arden’s attention turned back to the brunette, and she patted his shoulder. “If I told you what it was,” she said, “they wouldn’t be very effective protection dogs, would they?”

“I think you mean attack dogs.”

“Interchangeable,” she acquiesced. “Are you packed, Santi?”

He grinned, glancing at Jacob. “Is just stuff, no? I am not interested in the material.”

Her gaze flickered to Jacob, a look of, oh, is that so? before she told Santiago, “Well, out into the truck with you, then. Dogs.”

She didn’t say the command, but whistled, sending them racing out the door excitedly around Santiago. When he’d followed suit and Arden had turned the lights off in the house, making her own way to the front door, Jacob reached for her and snagged her hand to turn her back around.

A second passed. She waited expectantly.

“I haven’t told them,” Jacob said after a minute. Arden’s wrist slipped through his grip, catching at the base of her hand.

“About the fifteen dead men?” she asked. “Don’t you think that’s important?”

His eyes flickered over the shape of her face; in the dark, he could still pick out the planes of her cheekbones, the dip of her nose, the cupid’s bow of her lips. He’d traced just those things with his hands and mouth plenty of times before. “About you.”

Arden said, “Oh.”

Jacob waited for a second longer, but when he couldn’t pick out any emotion besides, perhaps, confusion on her face, he prompted, “Oh?”

“Well, I just don’t see how that’s pertinent right now,” Arden replied plainly. “People are getting killed.”

Per usual, even after over a year of being together, she somehow managed to completely unseat him. Trying not to sound frustrated, he elaborated, “I just thought you should know, Joseph and John and Faith don’t...”

Jacob felt his voice trail off; Arden tilted her head inquisitively, like she didn’t quite see the point in the conversation being dragged on. He never felt like he was dragging on a conversation, except with her—the woman trimmed the fat out of every interaction down to the barebones, if she could.

“They don’t know,” he finished. “Also, Isolde’s in the car. John’s old business partner.”

“Damage control,” Arden said.

“Damage control,” Jacob agreed.

The blonde gave his hand a quick squeeze, tugging him forward and, as though they hadn’t been apart for two months, as though he had not admitted to keeping her his very own special secret for this long, she kissed him. It was quick—a brush of their lips, fast and easy and not at all wanting, as though he’d never been gone at all—before she turned away and stepped out the door, waving in the headlights.

Jacob locked the door behind him, out of habit rather than necessity. As Arden loaded the dogs into the back and then her bag as well, he opened the back door of the truck to where Santiago had already climbed in.

“Hurry in, guapa, you’ll catch cold,” the brunette said, beckoning Arden in as though she weren’t in the process of climbing in already.

She smiled wryly, puffing the air out as she hoisted herself inside and kicked the snow off of her boots. “Thank you, Santi, for your concern.”

Jacob rolled his eyes, closing the door behind Arden and then settling himself back into the driver’s seat. There were about forty-five seconds of blissful silence as he navigated back down the driver before Santiago cleared his throat.

“So, Jacob, who is your friend?” he asked. His voice was sly, but Jacob stifled the urge to tell him to shut up. He’d probably go whining to John that he’d done Jacob a favor only to get bullied for it.

“This is Isolde,” Jacob said, gesturing at the woman in the passenger seat. “John’s mommy.”

Santi let out a low, little whistle, and said wistfully, “Ah, I have always wanted to meet the woman who raised our John.”

Isolde’s expression twisted something vicious. “I’d kill myself if I had to bear that fucker in my womb.”

“You took care of him while he was in Atlanta,” Jacob pointed out. “Cleaned up his messes in the courtroom. Set him on the straight and narrow. Sounds like a mother to me.”

“Ugh,” was her reply. He knew the kinds of things that John had been up to in Atlanta—post-grad, the youngest brother had been in poor shape. Looking for fulfillment in all the wrong places. If Isolde hadn’t nipped that shit in the bud, who knew where John would have been when they’d rounded him up? He’d never heard John say anything more than he’d said “I have to ask Isolde...” back when they’d been going to school and working together, but he imagined that once they had opened the firm together, spending weekends high out of his fucking mind wasn’t much of an option anymore.

Not, at least, for someone who was going to be doing business with Isolde’s name attached. She was a tidy little control freak like that.

“Oh,” Arden said, her face lighting up with curiosity, “you’re Joseph’s Isolde too?”

“Ugh.”

Jacob flashed Arden a grin through the rearview mirror, carefully turning the truck back onto a road that was more....Well, road than what they had been going on, not quite to the highway yet but close. He’d just have to get back to the compound. Get back to the compound, get Arden and Isolde settled in, and then he could go on the hunt.

It was becoming, unfortunately, more and more of a chore to keep things under control as time went on. Joseph wasn’t helping, and while John’s energy was not typically the “calm and efficient” kind, he at least had been propelled to take action. Of course, that action had ended up being more trouble than it was worth, and—

His brain was turning in circles, over and over again, a snake latched on to its own tail. It was almost deafening, to try and listen to Arden asking Isolde questions—what Joseph was like “back then”, about what it was like to work with John, how was her flight from Georgia—was she liking Montana? You know, aside from the killing and whatnot?—while his brain replayed the same loop. Would be easier if John was here, it said, would be easier if John was here to cause more problems and then try to clean them up. At least someone would be doing something, right?

Get back to the compound. Get everyone settled. Then he could make a plan.

And boy, was he going to fucking need one.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time they had gotten back to the compound, Isolde felt like she was in a pretty good mood. Pretty good, at least, for getting shot at and realizing you’d been duped by someone who shouldn’t have had the audacity to try and dupe you at all.

The fact of the matter was that John knew better—he knew better than to lie by omission to her, because she was always going to find out that he’d done it one way or another, and yet he’d done it anyway. Their time apart had made John bold in his disrespect of her, and that was something that just was going to have to get immediately remedied.

Well, as immediate as possible, given that she was in the middle of bumfuck-nowhere-Montana with only a lick of cell service.

“It’s been really fun,” Isolde announced, climbing out of the truck’s passenger side as everyone else disembarked. Santiago had swung around the back to let the dogs out and haul Arden’s bag out. “I’m going to go sit in my rudimentary shack and pretend like today didn’t happen.”

Santi flashed her a wide, toothy smile. “I have an alcoholic beverage that may assist in forgetting.”

“I bet that you do.”

“Sol,” Jacob said, drawing her attention to him; he tilted his head, indicating the chapel where she knew Joseph was likely waiting to hear back about the things they’d seen. She felt her shoulders shag.

“Don’t become my least favorite Seed.”

“He’ll want to know,” the redhead cautioned. “See for himself you’re fine.”

“I’m not,” she snapped, “fine, and if I’m being honest—”

“You always are, in my experience.”

“—the last person I want to be making feel good is your brother.”

Jacob said, “I’m the one that’s going to suffer for it.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. The eldest Seed shrugged his shoulders and started heading toward the chapel, nudging Arden ahead of him in a gesture that was both affectionate and protective; that was nearly the strangest thing to come out of the day. Aside from their newcomer trying to make their own live-action version of The Most Dangerous Game.

“Fine!” Isolde relented at last, trudging after them. “I must be fucking insane, to keep helping you lot.” And then, as though to comfort herself: “You’d probably muck up the details, anyway.”

Jacob flashed her a smile over his shoulder. “Practically family at this point.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

The inside of the chapel was degrees warmer—so much so that Isolde hadn’t realized how cold she actually was until she was within range of the space heater rattling laboriously, the sound bouncing between the wood paneling of the walls and ceiling. Joseph was sitting on one of the benches a few rows back from the front, head bowed and cradled against the fold of his hands. A young blonde woman sat beside him, but rather than bent at the waist, her face was lifted, like she was drinking in whatever light and warmth she could get.

Suffused in the amber glow of candlelight from different little pockets around the chapel, he did strike a Renaissance-esque silhouette. Faithful In Repose, or something like that.

It wasn’t until Jacob said, a few feet away, “We’re back,” that Joseph’s head lifted and he came to a stand. His expression looked mutedly relieved—like perhaps he was trying to not appear too relieved.

“I was worried,” he sighed, reaching up to plant his hands on Jacob’s shoulders, “when I heard your radio call. We both were. Fifteen of ours, you say?”

“I think so, anyway,” Jacob replied, not moving to return the physical gesture but not brushing it off, either. “I’m going to go back out after I get Arden settled and get an actual headcount. Hopefully track down the person we saw.”

“Good,” Joseph murmured, and then paused, his gaze flickering to the honeyed blonde standing just behind Jacob. “Arden?”

“Hi,” she greeted, reaching around and offering her hand to Joseph. “Arden Hale.”

His gaze looked inquisitively to Jacob. It was excruciating for Isolde to watch it, the confusion on his face as he took Arden’s hand in his and said, “I remember you, from before, don’t I?”

“Probably,” she agreed with a little smile. “But only in passing. I ran the vet clinic.”

“That’s right!” the younger blonde exclaimed, her face lighting up. “I remember you for sure.” She paused. “I was Rachel, back when we met.”

“I remember you too, Faith.” Arden’s smile was light and friendly, despite the fact that she referred to what had been her livelihood in the past tense rather than present tense. It was a painful reminder that they had run the other people with livelihoods out of Hope County—and that it didn’t seem to bother or unsettle Arden at all was enough to make Isolde wonder.

“And you—?” Joseph paused, clearly trying to keep some kind of cool, calm, and collect as he muddled through a thing that his brother was offering no explanation on. “Jacob just, ah...Picked you up?”

“Yes,” Arden replied politely.

Joseph’s gaze darted back to Jacob. He waited a heartbeat for her to elaborate, and when she didn’t, he said, “I see.”

“Do you?” Isolde prompted, because maybe she was gleaning a bit of enjoyment out of seeing Joseph on the brink of squirming. She knew him well enough to tell he was furiously stuffing down a mounting frustration—Arden, quick and to the point and unwilling to waste time on elaborating something she probably thought wasn’t important, and Jacob, tight-lipped and ready to leave.

Now she knew why Jacob hadn’t wanted to say anything. He’d been keeping Arden for himself, and now this stranger on the hunt had forced his hand.

“So,” Jacob said after a moment, “I’m going to get Arden settled. Sol, bunk with you?”

“Sure,” she replied, only managing to barely contain her delight at having figured out a dynamic in which Joseph was at a disadvantage. “I’d welcome the company of someone other than a Seed.”

“I’ll help,” the girl, who Arden had referred to as Faith, offered. “I could use a good stretch, and I can’t wait to catch up, Arden.”

Jacob made a low noise, something like uh-huh but more displeased, before he turned on his heel and started marching resolutely back to the door, Faith chatting excitedly with Arden as they followed.

Before he could reach the door, Joseph said, “Jacob?”

The redhead paused, turning to look back at them.

“When you have a minute,” he continued, “I’d like a word.”

Jacob’s mouth set into a firm line. He didn’t respond, but gave one short nod before he stepped outside and ushered Faith and Arden out ahead of him.

Isolde watched them go for one heartbeat before she began, “It’s refreshing to see you squirm, Joseph.”

“You always were a little spiteful,” Joseph agreed, his voice mild despite the barb in the words. Isolde’s gaze snapped back to him, head tilted in defiance.

“Don’t deny me my pleasures.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Another moment of silence passed, one where Joseph’s gaze took a leisurely journey over her—too leisurely to have been anything less than admiring—before he said, “I was worried, you know.”

“Well,” Sol replied tartly, “we were getting shot at.”

“You shouldn’t be leaving the compound,” he continued, his voice a bit firmer now, “not while we’re not sure that the Family isn’t still around. Jacob is capable...” Isolde waited for him to finish his thought, to tack on the contingency, but all he said was, “Enough, for himself.”

“I don’t think you have any grounds to be telling me to do anything.”

The words left her mouth coiled tight and unforgiving. Joseph had always been in the bad habit of that—telling her, rather than asking her or suggesting to her; as though his suggestions should be taken as gospel and phrased them as such. Even back then—

I want you to marry me. I want you to be my wife, Soli.

—it had been a demand, not an ask. Not a request—but something that was almost enough to be a command.

The man let out a small, short breath, looking at her for a moment in a way that was almost wary. Good, she thought, you should be wary of me.

“I know,” he began, “that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms...”

His voice trailed off, like he intended to let her interrupt him. Isolde crossed her arms over her chest and waited expectantly.

“But I meant what I said.” Joseph fixed her with his eyes—infuriatingly blue, disgustingly blue. “That I’m happy you’re here.”

“And I meant what I said,” she replied tightly, “that you should be.”

Joseph sighed, “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Then I don’t know why you opened your mouth in the first place—”

“Isolde,” and now he finally sounded a little frustrated, the tone bleeding into his voice. “We have to be on the same side, if you’re going to be here.”

She knew what that meant. She knew that what he was saying was, if you’re going to fight me at every turn, then there’s no reason for you to be here. But he was wrong about that; it was all the more reason for her to be there, to keep him in check, because clearly, nobody else was. Even Jacob, who should have had every reason to want to share this apparent relationship he’d been having, had kept it a secret from Joseph. And what did that say about him? What did that say about the person he’d become?

“I thought of you often,” he continued, his voice pitching a little lower now, taking a step forward. “And the mistakes that I made. That we both—” Joseph paused, his eyes flickering down to her mouth for a split second before lifting back to meet her gaze. “—made.”

Don’t fucking do it, she thought, watching him lift his hand to sweep the hair away from her shoulder in the affectionate gesture he had done so many times before then. If she let him, maybe he would follow up the way he had done so many times before all of this; he would have dragged his fingers along the pillar of her throat, pressed his mouth to the hollow under her jaw, sweet girl, my Soli, so gorgeous, and—

“Well, I didn’t,” Isolde replied, stepping away from him before his hand could make contact, before he could try and suck her back into the world that he’d had her in before. They were different now—she had known a Joseph before Eden’s Gate, and he had known an Isolde before Eden’s Gate, and all that had happened between was well and buried and done away with. “Think of you. At all.”

She focused on the door waiting for her, to take her out of the chapel and out of the romantic amber glow drenching the handsome features of Joseph’s face, to take her away from the cloying words. It couldn’t feel genuine coming from him, not right now. Not anymore.

“I don’t believe you,” is what he said, called after her just as she slammed the door behind her. “Not after the things I’ve done for you.”

The things I’ve done for you, he said. Fucker.

More like the things he’d done for himself.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The house was quiet when they returned. Scarlet must have retired early this evening; those nights that he’d spent sleeping in his car just down the street, he’d seen the light on in the downstairs living room well into the night, but the clock was only barely cresting eleven.

As they walked inside, Boomer lifted his head from where he’d been sleeping on the floor, stretched out in front of the couch. The Heeler’s tail thumped against the floor a few times, and then a low growl pitched out of him upon first seeing John come through the door again—only to have it waved away and quieted by a gesture of Elliot’s hand.

“Elliot,” he started, closing and locking the front door behind him, “are you sure you don’t—”

“I really—” Elliot’s voice tightened, wobbling sharp and tense. “—really need you to shut the fuck up.”

John had become familiar with the way that she said things; the difference between a casual shut the fuck up and the cadence of this, I need you to, so close to the thing he wanted her to say the most but only available to him now if he dredged it up from his memories. So he did as she asked and closed his mouth, instead contenting himself with replaying that parsed little clip of her words over again in his head.

I need you. He could fool himself, trick his brain into thinking as she hung the jacket up, the dips of her face shadowed by what little amber light was glowing from the one lamp left on in the living room. Just like she’d done it before—that night, before the scar. Before her lie. John, I want you so badly, I need you, I need you John, saying it against his mouth in a kiss and driving her nails into him like she wanted to leave a mark that wouldn’t fade, like she wanted him to think of her, always.

I do, he thought absently, jostled out of his near-daydream when she brushed past him to head for the stairs, the hound trailing at her feet protectively. Think of you, always.

“Could sleep in my bed,” he suggested, following a foot or two behind in case she decided to swing. “If you’re feeling out of sorts.”

“Is that what you think I’m feeling, John?” Elliot’s voice carried with it an idle kind of venom, the words barely above a whisper and tossed over her shoulder. It was a loaded question, of course. There was no right answer. In fact, it was more of a threat than anything. “I’m just dying to get some insight from the person who has clearly never read me wrong.”

He didn’t stop when she did; instead, he carried himself all the way to the landing that she paused at until there was hardly any space left between them, where he could still smell the wild winter blushing her cheeks and chilling her skin.

“I just remember,” he tried again, remaining casual, “you always seemed to sleep much better with a body next to you.” And then, pointedly: “A live one. Human and not dog-shaped.”

“Frankly, I don’t think you know a fucking thing about me,” the redhead snipped out.

“Well, we both know that isn’t true.” His eyes flickered over her; the urge to reach up and card his fingers through her hair, glide the pad of his thumb from her chin down into the hollow of her throat stung hard and bright in his chest, flowering with want. “I think we know each other quite intimately, you and I.”

“Fucking,” she hissed, “does not equate intimacy.”

“But it did.” John felt his mouth tick up at the corner. “For you. For us.”

Something vicious twisted her mouth. I know you, he wanted to say, but knew that he shouldn’t because it would only incense her further—he was having to straddle a very thin line. I know you, Elliot Honeysett, and I know we were fucking made for each other and you’re going to see it, too. One way or another.

“I only,” he continued, reaching up slowly and waiting for her to balk, “wanted to offer it.”

She didn’t jerk away from his touch, but before he could tuck the coppery strand behind her ear she had leaned away from him, shrugging off the affection. For a moment, her lashes fluttered, her expression changing into something he almost didn’t recognize. It took him a second to realize that she was considering, that it wasn’t blatant rejection just vibrating under her skin but something else. The times that Elliot had wanted him the most had always been when she was looking for comfort, and the gentle tremor in her hands that she tried to bury into her crossed arms, the way she was making a concerted effort to keep her breathing steady—she wanted him, as she had before.

It was a tiny, tiny little thrill, only a degree closer to what he wanted, but it was there nonetheless.

“No,” she said finally, doing that infuriating thing she did when she turned her eyes away from him—like she wanted to deprive him of her attention, her hand brushing his out of immediate reach of her. “I don’t want to sleep in your bed.”

“Alright,” he replied agreeably, even as every bone in his body disagreed with her decision. He stepped around her, heading up the stairs to the hallway that led to the guest bedroom. “But if you have a bad dream and want someone to hold you—”

“I won’t.”

“—you know where to find me,” John added playfully over his shoulder. Her footsteps drifted after him against the thick carpet, swallowed up by the high ceilings of the house.

“I hate you,” she bit out, her voice still soft so as not to rouse her mother.

John tried very hard not to smile. “I’ve told you once before, you need a catchphrase you can sound like you actually believe,” he told her. “That one just doesn’t hit the same anymore.”

She shot him a stormy, murderous look before brushing past him to reach the end of the hall where her bedroom was. Boomer darted ahead of her, eager to be in bed; John said, “Goodnight, Ell,” from the distance that kept them separated.

Elliot was halfway through the door to her bedroom when she said, “Eat shit, John.”

He shut the bedroom door behind him just enough to leave it cracked—Elliot still hadn’t come clean about the sleepwalking, but he still knew, and that meant he couldn’t have his wife and his unborn child traipsing around in the snow and potentially getting hypothermia while he was asleep.

It wasn’t until he’d undressed into more comfortable clothing that he crawled into the bed and realized how exhausted he really was; the adrenaline that had flooded his system at Elliot’s apparent panic had died out now, leaving him feeling hollowed out and a little empty.

John couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Weyfield wasn’t as good for Elliot as she had wanted, and though that meant she would suffer for now, it would make their return to Hope County all the better; for him, and for her.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He tossed and turned for a few hours, and found himself dredged out of his state of half-asleep by the jarring sound of his phone going off. John glanced over at the nightstand where it was vibrating, dull and insistent, against the wood. With no numbers saved as contacts in his phone, it was almost impossible to tell who it was, which always made it a bit of an uneasy endeavor when it came to picking up an unknown call.

Sitting up in bed blearily, he reached over and hesitated for just a minute before he hit the accept call button, bringing it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, Johnny.” It was Isolde. Her voice sounded tight, uncomfortable. “How’s Georgia? Hm? Everything good?”

He hesitated again, but for a different reason this time; Sol’s voice was heavily implying something was wrong, and John was not privy just yet to what it was that had put her on edge. “It’s good,” he said, climbing out of bed and wandering to glance out the window. The night outside was peaceful—or as peaceful as it could look, with the dark treeline looming in his vision and the swollen clouds threatening another downpouring of snow.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s...progressing,” he ventured, still half-asleep and clearing his throat. “Slowly, but I think I—”

“That’s good. That’s really, really good, honey. Hey, John? By the way, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Ah. So she was mad.

John opened his mouth to respond when Isolde plunged on, her voice pitching in a reckless kind of vibration, “I told you not to fucking lie to me. That means by omission.”

“Well, now—”

“I came out here out of the kindness of my fucking heart, you asshole. I fucking—they should be calling me Mother Fucking Theresa for the shit I’ve done for you, and you have the audacity to not only neglect to tell me that you didn’t know for sure the cult was done with but that your wife doesn’t want you? You’re hunting this girl across states and she fucking turned you in to the goddamn government?”

John grimaced. He was going to have to chat with Jacob and Joseph about how much information they were deciding to divulge with people. People, like Isolde, who didn’t need to know that his and Elliot’s relationship had ended on more than just “bad terms” and that the gap to heal it was actually much, much larger than perhaps he had implied.

“Also, can’t ignore the fact that you were in government custody at one point but your fucking cockroaches killed government officials to get you out—”

He started, “Sol—”

“No no no, do not fucking ‘Sol’ me, baby—I almost got fucking shot today. I watched someone hunt your fucking homeless population for sport and then make a very clear threat to do the same for me. And the worst part of it is that I’m not even that mad about that bloody bit, but—”

The sound of a door dragging against the carpet wobbled through the air, half-masked by his own closed door and the gentle whirr of the heater kicking on. He glanced blearily a the clock on the nightstand. It blinked 3:27 AM at him, and as he walked to the door and peeked out into the hallway, he saw that Elliot was wandering down the stairs.

Sol chattered viciously in his ear, but he wasn’t hearing it anymore; Ell moved leisurely, a pace that was unhurried, swaying on her feet a little as she came to a stop at the front door of the house and wandering in pajama shorts and an over-sized sweatshirt.

“Hold on,” John said, interrupting Sol’s tirade. “Something’s—can you hold on a second? Something’s wrong.”

“Oh? Yeah? Really? Something’s wrong? You fucking idiot—”

In her haze, Elliot tried to pull the door open. Her hand fumbled tiredly, clumsily with the lock, but the coordination needed to undo it just wasn’t there.

“I gotta go,” he murmured into the phone. “Listen, Sol, I’ll call you back in the morning—bye.”

Isolde’s indignation did not go unnoticed, but it did go unanswered as he hit the end call button and put the phone volume on mute, tossing it onto the bed as he made his way down the stairs. Elliot seemed to have given up trying to unlock the door and now tugged absently against the handle, staring out through the glass front; from the stairs, he could hear that she was whispering something, but not what it was.

“Ell?” John whispered, coming closer. He wasn’t supposed to wake a sleepwalker, right? Gently, he reached up to try and disengage her hand from the curved door handle. Her voice was still so soft that he almost couldn’t hear what was she whispering, but —

“...can’t,” Elliot was saying, to the glass—to the door—to someone or something on the other side of it. “Can’t let you in.”

“Baby,” he said, uncurling her fingers from around the curve of cool metal, “come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Her head snapped, mechanical and machine-like, to fix her gaze on him; the movement almost made him jump it was so precise, like she had just only realized he was there beside her. Though her eyes were open, they were glassy and drifted absently, never once staying in one spot for very long but never straying very far from his face.

“She keeps asking,” Ell told him, letting him take her hand away from the door and blinking, her brows pinching together at the center of her forehead. “She keeps asking me to let her in. She misses me.”

“Who?” He didn’t know that he really wanted to know the answer to the question, but it came out of him anyway—maybe the morbid curiosity of wanting to know what it was she saw in her dreams when she did this sort of thing, and maybe because he’d never been the type of person who could leave a door unopened.

As he guided her carefully to the stairs, their progress halting and uneasy, Elliot said pleasantly, “I told Joey I can’t let her in.”

He felt his skin prickle, dread crawling up his spine. He knew it. He knew he didn’t want to know the answer and he’d asked anyway, and now John would have to go to sleep with the knowledge that at least in her dreams, Elliot was seeing her dead best friend. Outside of her house.

“But I don’t want to,” the redhead continued. “She keeps asking me, but I don’t want to. She doesn’t have a face.”

His stomach churned violently. “Let’s go to bed,” he murmured, helping her up the stairs and to the guest room, pulling the blankets aside. His phone blinked with several missed calls from the same number—likely Isolde, raging mad he’d hung up on her. “Easy now, Ell.”

“She’s waiting for me,” Elliot whispered, like she was sharing a secret with him, her voice bridging mournful and gutted. “Joey’s waiting for me. She’s waiting outside. I have to let her in, or she won’t let me sleep.”

He pulled the blankets aside, trying to brush off the dread that really hit him the second he heard Elliot say she won’t let me sleep. Once she was laying down in the bed, her lashes fluttered unsteadily, her hand gripping John’s loosely.

Out from the hallway, he heard a low whine. Boomer had stirred at the sound of their hushed voices and now stood in the doorway of the bedroom; when John turned and looked at him, the Heeler let out a low growl, threatening.

“Well, come on,” John whispered impatiently at the dog, “if you’re going to come in.”

Boomer turned his head. It was the most effective side-eye he’d seen a dog perform in a long time.

“I have to,” Elliot whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears now. “I’m so tired, and she won’t let me sleep.”

“It’s okay,” he told her, even though his stomach wrenched a little at her words again, this eerie mantra that insisted on coming out of her now. “You can sleep.”

A little paranoid, he glanced towards the window—but it was empty, devoid of looming corpses or monsters peeking furred faces in through the panes. Don’t be stupid, he thought to himself, moving to the window and reaching for the curtains. Nothing out there. Just Elliot having bad dreams.

He gave the forest, bathed in cold moonlight diffused and filtered through the cloud cover, a final glance over. And for one split second, he was sure he saw something move, scrambling up a tree and shaking the pine boughs in a flash of pale limbs and bony protrusions and—

The dread returned. Cold, trickling down his spine like an IV drip. Just an animal, he told himself, as though the movement did not look like some two-legged humanoid monster scaling the side of a tree with the ease of a spider. Just an animal.

“Come on, beastie, we haven’t got all night,” he said, drawing the curtains closed firmly and waving at Boomer. The dog seemed appeased by this and came in, immediately hopping up to curl roll-shaped in the crook of Elliot’s knees. With the bedroom door shut and the curtains drawn, and Elliot having drifted back to sleep, the room finally felt quiet again.

John slid into bed pulling the blanket up and exhaling a breath.

She doesn’t have a face.

She’s waiting for me.

She won’t let me sleep.

Troubling, that she was seeing these things in her sleep. That she was seeing dogs with human faces. That she was seeing anything at all. It was almost the same as when she’d been drugged up to the gills by the Family and their weird earthy drug—not unlike Bliss, but with some more uncomfortable properties to it.

It wasn’t possible that she was still being affected by it, was it? This far away from Hope County, this long after she’d been experiencing the actual active effects of the drug they’d been plying her with?

Beside him, Elliot stirred, shifting until she’d rolled over to face him. Beneath her eyelids, in the dark, he could see her eyes move restlessly; still dreaming, even now, even after all of that.

What’s going on in that brain of yours? He thought absently, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair from her face as she slept.

What aren’t you telling me?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Elliot awoke the next morning, it was in a foreign bed.

She didn’t realize it, not right away; the first thing that struck her as odd was that a familiar smell washed over her, one that broke through the haze of slumber just a little, just enough to make her stir. It was like a memory—was she dreaming? Was she in a dream?

Stop squirming, breathed against the nape of her neck, the comfortable weight of an arm over her, locking her in place. I’m trying to sleep.

“Wh—?” Elliot felt the noise, garbled with a sudden surge of panic, muddle in her mouth viciously as she lurched into a sitting position. Her head swam; her stomach rolled with unspent nausea (yet one more reminder of her poor decision-making); but when she moved, so too did Boomer, leaping off of the bed and instantly alert.

And so did another body next to her.

She swung blindly at first, a knee-jerk reaction, and only barely registered that it was John in the bed with her, having caught her wrist and stopped her from clotheslining him straight in the trachea.

“Easy, Elliot!” he exclaimed, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she demanded, yanking her hand out of his grip. “How did—when did I—”

“Take a breath,” John cautioned, and instantly that hyper-awareness and panic was laser-focused, pin-pointed on the one thing that managed to be a tangible bane of her existence.

“Fuck you?” she said, incredulously. “Explain to me how I ended up in your fucking—”

“Elliot, you were sleepwalking,” he snipped. “I caught you trying to walk outside.”

She blinked at him, trying to process his words through a haze of blood rushing through her head and alarm bells sounding off rapidly. It was getting, she thought somewhere in the back of her mind, harder and harder to turn them off—to convince her brain that she wasn’t in immediate danger anymore, when she had identified a situation properly.

John is a threat? her muddled brain tried to parse through as she took in the scars and tattoos she had traced before—

(with her fingers with her mouth, while he knotted his fingers in her hair and sighed, please Ell please I’ll give you anything I’ll do anything)

—committed to memory.

Not a threat, she affirmed after a moment, lifting her eyes to his. Not a threat in the least.

“Okay?” he asked her, brows lifted. “Are we okay?”

“Why didn’t you just put me back in my bed?” she gritted out. “If you caught me sleepwalking.”

“And risk the beast ripping my hands off for coming into his territory? No, thanks.”

“Seems fine now.”

“Well,” John relented, “I invited him in.”

She rolled her eyes. Pushing the blankets off of her legs, Elliot passed her hands over her face, willing the alarm bells off. Red alert! Red alert! they screamed, over and over; we’re in danger, dig your heels in and sink your teeth in and tear tear tear—

The sound of the sheets rustling forced its way through the warning bells behind her just before John said, “You were talking too, last night.”

Elliot stopped, turning to look at him over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. “I suppose I said something like, ‘oh, John, I take it all back, please let me love you, I promise I’ll be the perfect cult wife’—”

The brunette lifted his hands in defense. “As ideal as that would have been, that was not the case.”

And then he didn’t say anything. John Seed, who could not possibly have learned how to shut the fuck up overnight, was regarding her very carefully—gauging her, getting a feel for what was going on in her brain. She felt her molars grind.

“Well, spit it out, then.”

John’s mouth twisted for a moment. “You told me you were trying to let Joey in,” he said finally. “That she kept asking you to let her in, but you couldn’t. And—”

A new wave of nausea washed over her. She didn’t think that was true. She didn’t that she had been dreaming about Joey. Had she? No, she would remember if—

(Joey, dirt packed under her nails and the flower blooms spilling out of the cavern of her chest, shaking the door, shaking it shaking it she won’t stop and she’s screaming even though she doesn’t have a mouth, even though her eyes and nose are smoothed out from her face, begging, begging to be let in, please let me in let me in letmeinletme—)

“—said she didn’t have a face,” he continued,

(LETMEIN)

“—and she wouldn’t let you sleep—”

(L E T M E I N)

“Um,” Elliot said, feeling faint as her brain dutifully trudged up the nightmarish dream sequence once again. “I don’t—um, I don’t think—”

John’s hand went to her shoulder, squeezing there at the junction between her shoulder and neck; instinctively, her hand flew up, gripping his wrist on a mechanical instinct to dig her nails in and rip his hand off of her.

He stayed firm—watching her, watching her reaction, brows furrowing. We like this, a part of her said, when his fingers splayed warm and calloused against the side of her neck, when her pulse jumped under the touch and the fog cleared a little. We remember this, and we like it.

“You said you were sleeping fine, Ell,” he murmured, his voice low as though not to spook her.

I know, she thought, feeling her lashes flutter as the urge to puke reared its head. I know what I said, I know what I fucking said, I know what I did, I’m not sleeping fine, I can’t remember when I slept fine, I can’t fucking sleep—

“I told you before.” The pad of his thumb swept down the front of her throat, close to the hollow just there; any lower and he’d be touching his handiwork. It was almost comforting, that he knew, that he was intimately familiar. “I’ll give you anything you want. Especially if it means helping you sleep at night.”

She knew that he meant it.

“I want,” she breathed, watching John’s eyes light up, “to punch you in the face so fucking bad.”

John sucked his teeth and regarded her ruefully. “Had me for a minute,” he told her. “Thought you were going to stop being so obtuse.”

“Disappointed?”

“A little, admittedly.”

“It’s good for you. Builds character.”

“You can’t be sleepwalking out of the house, barefoot, in the winter and pregnant,” he said, more firmly.

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, Elliot.”

“No fucking shit? You’re sooo smart, John. Think maybe later, if you have time, you could explain to me how day and night works?” And now she did push his hand off of her—enough familiarity for one morning—and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I have to shower and get ready.”

A frown planted itself on his face. “Ready for what?”

“Going to the stables,” she replied, opening the door and letting Boomer out into the hallway.

“I’ll come, too.”

Elliot stopped, blinking at him. “Sorry?”

“I said,” John began, having gotten out of bed and begun pulling his jeans on, “I’ll come too.”

“As much as I love the idea of you getting the shit kicked out of you by a horse—”

She cut herself off. The brunette raised a brow inquisitively—frustratingly distracting shirtless and standing there like he wasn’t the World’s Worst—and she shut her mouth promptly.

Taking John to the stables meant putting him out of his element. It also meant putting him directly in Sylvia’s path—and if there was someone who seemed almost as unimpressed with John as her mother, it was her new friend. She'd never seen him squirm as much as she had when Sylvia had clapped him on the back and said, jury's still out, but don't worry, bud! Like he'd never before had a woman not fall over herself for his attention.

“You know what?” She felt a smile tick the corner of her mouth. Even amidst the morning sickness riling in her stomach and the exhaustion from feeling like she hadn’t slept a wink, it still felt a little good. “Sure. You can come to the stables with me.”

Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes. He had one arm into a button-up when he stopped moving. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Elliot replied pleasantly. “But you’ve gotta do something. You can’t stand in the way. Be useful.”

“I can be useful,” he ventured. “It’s—what? Horses?”

“Yes, John, it is horses.”

“Great. Love them. Love horses. Very cool.”

“Uh-huh.” She eyed him, taking two steps out of the bedroom and then turning around. “And John?”

He let out puff of air, head tilting as he looked at her, having shrugged the other half of the shirt on. “Yes, Elliot?”

Elliot gave him a once-over, grimacing.

“Maybe don’t wear the Versace to the barn.”

[not-close-to-straight]

100% Professional (Final)

MASTERLIST

******************

A few weeks later 

"Hey hey, I'm not ready to say good night to you yet." Wade wound his arm around Peter's waist and tugged him closer. "Where are you going?" 

"I've still got a  piece to write for work tomorrow." Peter said reluctantly, and tossed his taco trash away. "And you've got that thing with Sam at like six am, don't you?" 

"I could definitely reschedule a fun run with Sam if you wanted to stay." Wade countered. "Especially since there's nothing fun about running at all. Whoever coined that phrase should be given a swift roundhouse kick to the face." 

"It's important that you keep appointments with people who are a positive influence in your life." Peter recited, clearly quoting the self help book Wade kept on the living room coffee table. "And I know I'm delightful? But Sam is a much better positive influence in your life." 

"Pete--" 

"Last night we ate Cheez Whiz until you coughed it out your nose." Peter pointed out. "And the day before that we watched six straight hours of reality TV because neither one of us could find the remote. Could have just turned the TV off, but nope. We watched six solid hours of reality dating." 

"Okay, yeah that was pretty bad." 

"We sucked helium and sang Christmas songs until we gave ourselves migraines." 

"Also bad." 

"Face it." Peter smoothed his hands down Wade's arms, lingering over the bulge of the former soldiers biceps. "We make the worst decisions together so you should definitely spend the morning with Sam, who consistently is encouraging you to get better and is always glad to see you at group." 

"I sort of hate that you're all supportive and encouraging me to better my self." Wade grumbled half heartedly. "You were much more fun when you were just rubbing me with oil and trying to catch a peek at my dick." 

"I resent the implication that I still don't try to look at your dick." Peter retorted and Wade only laughed. "Definitely fun run with Sam and then call me after wards. I'll work on your calves since I'm sure you're gonna be sore." 

"...really?" Wade hesitated. "You'd work on me?" 

"Why not?" If Peter noticed he was all but glommed onto Wade's chest, he didn't comment. If anything the pretty brunette only scooted closer, tangling their feet and hooking his fingers into Wade's belt. "If you're hurting, I'm gonna help you. I'm a trained professional, remember?" 

"I vaguely remember you being something like a massage therapist." Wade agreed. "Even though our marshmallow eating contest last week gave me a few doubts." 

"That's fair." Peter said immediately. "I wouldn't trust a professional who shouted chubby bunny with eleven marshmallows in their mouth either. That's perfectly valid. In fact, if you hadn't doubted my professional status after that I'd worry about you. And also--" 

"I fired my massage therapist last week." Wade interrupted, and Peter went very still. 

"What? Why?" 

"Because she's not you?" Wade asked slowly. "Is that an okay reason?" 

"It's not a real reason." Peter pointed out, but he didn't pull away. "Obviously she's not me, lots of people aren't me. But why would that matter? We pretty much decided that we could have a working relationship or a friendship but not both, right? So you got another therapist and we-- we are friends." 

"Is that what this is?" Wade took a chance and drew his fingers through Peter's hair, down to fit his palm to the back of Peter's neck and rub circles over his pulse. "Friendship?" 

"Well yeah." Peter shivered, leaning his head back into Wade's palm. "Right? Friendship. We hang out and we laugh and we do stupid things together when we're drunk. We've sort of moved on into holding hands and sure this hug is about eight minutes too long but--" 

"Can I kiss you?" 

"Please God, kiss me." Peter stood up on his toes and met Wade halfway, their mouths crashing together in the sort of kiss that was months and months and months over due, the sort of kiss that belonged in movies with dramatic storms and soaring musical scores, the kind that left two people gasping and melting, torn between undressing each other right there and maybe just wanting to linger in the innocence of this particular first. 

"Wade." Peter whispered when they finally parted. "Oh my god." 

"Yeah." Wade leaned back into dot a kiss to Peter's cheek, to brush his lips over the line of Peter's jaw. "Yeah, I know. It's about time, right?" 

"I think um--" Peter was blushing, biting at his lip and trying to inch closer so Wade would keep kissing him. "I think it was right about perfect timing for us, right? Seems like a long time coming, but we did it the right way?" 

"If you say so." Wade cleared his throat. "Kinda wish our first kiss wasn't in front of the taco stand though. Seems like I could have been more romantic than that."

Peter tried and failed to stifle a chuckle. "Tacos are super romantic, what are you talking about?" 

"Tacos are romantic, you're absolutely right." Wade dug in his pocket so he could actually pay the very patient taco guy. "We should eat and--" 

He shut up when Peter kissed him again. "Pete?" 

"I'm not ready to say goodnight to you." Peter said slowly, clearly. "But it's important that you do this run with Sam, and it's important that I get to work, so I'm going to go. You'll call me tomorrow so I can work on you when you're sore?" 

"I'll call you tomorrow." Wade nodded, leaning in to press their foreheads together. "For a purely professional massage. Definitely. Definitely will not try and grope my massage therapist." 

"You grope me and I'll charge you double." Peter threatened and Wade retorted, "What if it's just a little grope? I'll call it a tip." 

"I feel like your version of giving me a tip and my version of you giving me a tip are pretty different."  

"I dunno Pete, you've been horny for me forever. Pretty sure we're talking about the same tip." 

"Wade-" 

"SOMEONE TAKE YOUR CHANGE!" The taco guy shouted, obviously having overheard way more than he wanted, obviously fed up with Wade and Peter's weekly taco stop/flirty episode. 

"Keep the change." Wade waved the guy off. "Call it a tip. "

Peter choked on his food as he tried not to laugh and Wade stole just one more kiss. 

"I'll call you tomorrow?" 

"Please call me tomorrow." Peter's smile was hopeful, his eyes sparkling. "I can't wait." 

****************

****************

"How was the fun run?" Soleus. Peroneal Muscle Group. Gastrocnemius. Peter mentally recited the names of calf muscles as he worked at Wade's legs, desperately trying to distract himself from the fact that his friend-- boyfriend?-- was almost naked under the sheets. "Feel like a champ for finishing?" 

"I feel like hog tying Sam and beating him with a broom for making me do it." Wade grunted as Peter felt over a particularly tight spot. "He gave me this grand speech about how exercise is just as crucial to healing as therapy and mental exercises are, then he dragged my ass out there in the rain and forced me to watch him run in booty shorts. How is that healing?" 

"I feel like you probably didn't have to stare at him in booty shorts." Peter countered. Peroneal longus. Extensor digitorum longus. Achilles. "There had to be a thousand other places for you to look besides Sam's ass, right?" 

"The man's got a nice ass." Wade admitted and Peter grinned. "It was nice to finish, I guess. I've hit all these milestones in therapy but those are just check marks on paper. It felt good to check something off my list that not even healthy people do, you know? Most people will never run a marathon, and I did that today." 

"Yeah, I'm one of those people that will never run a marathon." Peter hesitated for a split second before sliding his hands up past Wade's knee to the back of his thigh. "I'd much rather watch from the sidelines and critique people's forms." 

"That seems hilariously judgmental of you." Wade tensed under Peter's fingers, then blew out a deep breath and forced himself to relax. This is a professional massage. "And you better start running because I signed us up for the city run this summer." 

"The one in July?" Semimembranosus muscle. Semitendinosus muscle. "That seems... I mean, that's like seven months out. Little far in advance to make plans, don't you think?" 

"It's not that far in advance." Wade hedged. "You uh-- you planning on going anywhere, Pete?" 

"I'm planning on being exactly here." Peter said softly, almost too softly, and to lighten the moment he added, "Charging you ridiculous amounts of money for hour long massages. I want to buy a car this summer, so this is as good a time as any to mention my rates doubled." 

"Doubled, huh?" Wade's laugh was pained as Peter dug his thumbs into a particularly bad knot. "Why do you need a car?" 

"I can’t take another month in Ye Olde Drug Makers Den, so I’m finally moving apartments." Biceps femoris muscle. "Unfortunately all the reasonably priced safer neighborhoods will require a sort of crazy commute and it'd be faster to have a car so I don't have to deal with the subway. Plus, Jameson is talking about having me travel, so I could write off the car as a business expense. It'd just be nice to have a choice in my transportation, I guess." 

"I got a car you can have." Wade forced out another one of those slow breaths when Peter moved even higher up his leg. "I couldn't drive after my injury but selling it always felt like I was admitting I was too fucked up to function. It's been sitting in storage for a couple years now." 

"Yeah? How much you wanna sell it for?" Peter paused again, reminded himself that he was definitely a professional and he could definitely handle seeing Wade mostly naked while kneading at his --gulp-- finely toned ass. They had kissed yesterday and it was fine, it wouldn't have any bearing on the massage today. It was fine. It was fine it was fine it was fine. 

Abductor magnus muscle. Gluteus maximus muscle. 

Holy shit, that thing was fine.

"How much do you want to sell the car for?" Peter tried so hard to sound casual just then, hoping the conversation would distract from-- from everything. 

"You can just have it." Wade shifted on the massage table, digging his fingers into the mat. "Doesn't um-- doesn't make sense for me to-- for me-- whew. Pete, uh maybe we should--" 

"You okay?" Peter paused, gave in to an entirely wicked impulse and spread his hands out over Wade's rear. "Is this-- this is weird right? After we kissed? It's weird for me to work on you. Should I stop?" 

"No, it feels good." Wade sounded positively strangled. "Feels good after my run and uh-- it's just nice that it's you but we can't-- I definitely can't roll over this time, ya feel me?" 

"Shit." Peter leaned over and rested his forehead between Wade's shoulder blades. "Wade, I promise I am actually a professional. I dunno what it is about you that makes it impossible to get through a session without skewing innuendo-ish--" Wade snorted a laugh and Peter smiled a little, leaving a feather soft kiss on Wade's back. "--but let me finish working on you and then maybe we can--"

"Come here." Faster than Peter was ready for, Wade rolled to his side and yanked Peter down for a kiss, crushing their mouths together and grabbing at Peter's side to keep him close. 

"Oh my god." Peter abandoned all pretenses of professional and shoved Wade onto his back, clambering up onto the table to straddle Wade's waist and to leave bruising kiss after wonderfully bruising kiss on the soldier's lips. "Wade, please." 

"Yeah baby boy, I've got you." Wade's hands were everywhere, dragging down Peter's back and grasping at his rear, digging into Peter's thighs and holding him still so Wade could grind up  into him. "I've got you, I've got you, I've got you." 

Peter's shirt probably tore as it was yanked off and tossed aside but nobody cared, and Peter cried when Wade surged up to seal his lips over a pink nipple, blunt teeth on sensitive skin making him nearly scream.  He got sweet sweet sweet revenge by worrying a bruise onto the curve of Wade's neck, not letting up until Wade was panting and swearing and tearing at his pants.

When Wade groaned in frustration over Peter's skinny jeans, the brunette laughed breathlessly and tried to climb off the table, promising, "Two seconds. Let me get these off and I'll be right back, two seconds and then you can have me." 

But alas, the massage table was not meant to hold the combined weight of two grown men, much less too grown men rocking the table back and forth and trying to get nekkid and just as Peter was climbing off to get rid of his jeans--

--the table wobbled--

--and cracked--

--and all four legs shattered--

--and an oiled up and mostly naked Wade dropped right onto the floor, toppling a half in-half out of jeans screeching Peter on top of him. 

Peter and Wade stared at each other, at the mess, at the broken table and the splotch of lotion all over the expensive carpet, and just when Peter was gearing up to apologize, Wade collapsed into laughter, full blown side splitting guffaws and after a stunned few seconds, Peter joined him. 

It felt good to laugh, good to release all the pent up sexual tension with some giggles, good to put a halt to the out of control moment with some hilarity. 

Wade was still wiping tears from his eyes a few moments later as he managed, "Alright, so all those smutty videos where the massage therapist gives a client a royal dicking down on the table? False, eh?" 

Peter wheezed for breath, inching across the ruined table to curl into Wade's side, holding onto him as he shook through a few more laughs. "That was terrible, oh my god. I didn't think it would actually break." 

"It's alright anyway." Wade hooked an arm around Peter's shoulders and pulled him tight, dropping a quick kiss onto his forehead. "Means we actually have to do this first time right instead of mid massage and in my living room, huh?" 

"I dunno." Peter kissed Wade back, wrinkling his nose teasingly. "We did everything else about this funky, might as well have funky first time sex too." 

"Funky first time sex." Wade deadpanned. "Be still my romantic heart. At least let me take you out to dinner, baby." 

"Tacos." Peter said promptly. "Go get tacos and I'll get this cleaned up and we can do funky first time sex properly." 

"Yeah alright." It took all of Wade's self control to peel away from Peter. Months and months they'd waited to get to this point and now they had to clean up broken massage table and try for dinner and-- 

"Why don't you move in with me?" he blurted before he could stop himself, and Peter's jaw dropped open. "You need a new place, I have a car you can drive and we're halfway in love so it's inevitable anyway. Move in with me." 

"...I think it's bold of you to invite me to move in before you know how I am in bed." Peter said slowly. "Um-- what if I'm terrible in the sack? Use teeth when there should be no teeth? What if I’m a total pillow princess and then you have to share your apartment and car with a highly unprofessional massage therapist who gives shitty blow jobs?" 

Wade tried to hide a smile. "You give shitty blow jobs, Pete?" 

"Well I mean--" Peter shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I guess you'll have to find out, right? No backsies though, whether you like the blowjobs or not, I'll be living here." 

"No backsies." Wade rubbed a hand over his bare scalp and nodded as if he wasn't ready to explode with excitement. "You wanna move in with me?" 

"I definitely do." Peter's eyes were shining. "But I'm about two seconds from jumping you again because I'm so happy, so go get tacos and get back so we can do this the right way." 

"I'll be right back." Wade promised, and ducked down the hallway to find his clothes. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" 

"I'll be right here." Peter kicked out of the last leg of his jeans so he was just in his shorts. "Right here. Hurry." 

Wade was dressed and out the door, nearly running for the elevator when Peter stuck his head out from the apartment and yelled, "And what do you mean, we're half in love? You better tell me you love me like a real man or the deal's off!" 

"No backsies!" Wade yelled back, grinning when he heard Peter laughing. "You're stuck with me now!"

***************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

***************

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@chiby-chan @thanossucks @i-am-worth-it-25 @dan4thefam

[shinsorokiri]

UA Idol | Chapter Sixteen

Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Word Count: 2,290

Warnings: Language, hangover, mentions of throwing up, SO VERY SOFT

A/N: First chapter I will be posting today!! I’m expecting to post chapter seventeen in like seven hours because I want to make that one extra long like maybe 4,000 or so words (but no promises, Imma try though). There’s a lot that happened in this chapter, and I’m really happy I decided to rewrite it because holy SHIT I like this one better. I hope you enjoy it!!! Expect another chapter tonight! Thank you everyone for your support as well, it makes me so happy and I love all of you! 🥺

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You were woken up by the noise of your hotel door being slammed open and Denki yelling, “NO FUCKING WAY!” at the top of his lungs. You grumble, your head already hurt enough you didn’t need him making it worse. Besides being woken up like that is not a fun time. You wanted to stay in this oddly warm hotel bed longer. These blankets really made you feel like you were asleep with someone. Someone who smelled a lot like Shinsou. Huh, weird, why is that – OH MY GOD.

You both make eye contact at the same time, your faces both instantly getting red and your eyes wide. Before you can ask him what the hell happened, a look of panic flashes across his face before he genuinely sprints to the bathroom, the alcohol he ingested finding its way out of his body. You groan, the sound is making you feel a little nauseous, but you can hold in there. You just have a killer headache. “Woah, I’ve never seen him this hungover before,” Denki says to himself, slowly closing the door to give Shinsou some privacy while he faces the consequences of his actions. You groan, turning to look at Denki. He’s also hungover, and he definitely ran here after just leaping out of bed. “What do you want.”

You’re being blunt. You’re not in the mood. You just wanted to sleep, your head hurt, and your bed was cold now. “You, (Y/f/n) and Hitoshi Shinsou slept in the same bed together!” he exclaims, and, finally, Mina stirs. How she is such a heavy sleeper is beyond you. “Yeah. We were drunk, he probably just like, passed out or something,” you mumble, pulling the covers over your head when Mina clinks the bedside lamp on. Light hurt you. “Denki? When did you get here?” Mina asks, very confused and you groan. “He literally ran in here and screamed how the hell did you not hear him?”

“Because I was asleep.”

“Oh, my god.” You hear the bathroom door open, and then Denki says, “Oh, good to know you’re still alive.” Shinsou just grunts in response, sitting on the edge of your bed. “I should probably go back to our room. I feel like shit,” he mumbles, leaning over to rest his head in hihs hands. “No, actually, you just stay here. Mina and I made plans last night over text to go buy some designer clothes and clear out our bank accounts because we are young, dumb, and like designer clothes,” Denki says, and Mina, albeit also hungover, understands immediately that Denki is trying as hard as he possibly can to ensure that the two of you stay in the same room. Shinsou sighs. “Whatever. I can’t just stay in Mina and (Y/n)’s room, I’ll just–”

“Of course, you can!” Mina jumps in, popping out of bed and grabbing some clothes from her suitcase. Even though the chances were she and Denki would go to his room and recover before actually going shopping, she had to A) make it convincing that they were leaving and B) grab clothes for when they actually went. “You can take my bed! Or, you could just stay in bed with (Y/n). I mean, her bed is closer to the bathroom so you’d probably wanna stay there,” she suggests, and he grumbles. Before he can protest again, he feels your knee lightly hit his back. He pauses for a moment, but Mina and Denki take the pause as him agreeing. “Okay, cool! Great! We’ll see you two when y’all aren’t zombies! The medicine is in the bathroom, you should both take it!” With that, Denki and Mina rush out of the door and Shinsou sighs. He stands, wandering over to Mina’s bed before he’s stopped by your voice. “Shin, just stay in this bed. Like Mina said, it’s closer to the bathroom. And we shared it last night, it’s not a big deal.”

Oh, if only you knew what that just did to his heart. He absolutely doesn’t say no to you, and crawls under the covers immediately. He buries his head into the pillow as he feels you shift around to turn the lamp Mina turned on off. “No more light.”

“Thank fucking god,” he says, and you let out a small snort. “I’m sorry, I didn’t force you to take medicine last night apparently,” you mumble, and he sighs. “I must have forced you. You seem to be doing better than me.”

“Only by like 5%. Maybe. I’ll go grab the medicine and get us some water, that’s supposed to help,” you say, slowly getting out of bed. Unfortunately, the medicine he gave you didn’t work as well as you’d hoped. As soon as you stood up, you were immediately nauseous. Now it was your turn to sprint to the bathroom. Shinsou, being the gentleman he is, rushed in after you, instantly beginning to rub your back and make sure you were okay as you threw up. As much as his body wanted to also do what you were doing, somehow his care and worry for you cancelled it out. As long as he focused completely on you, everything would be okay. After you were done, he filled a cup of water, handing it to you to drink. “Maybe we should wait to take the medicine so we know it will actually stay down,” he suggests, sitting on the bathroom floor next to you. You nod. “I want to go back to bed, but I do not want to move from this spot,” you sigh, resting your head on the toilet seat. He stands, fighting off the nausea, and goes and grabs the blankets the two of you were bundled in last night. He brings them back, plopping down next to you and wrapping them around both of you. You find yourself melting into him, seeking out the warmth his body radiates as well as the comfort he never fails to give you. He wraps his arm around your body, humming as he pulls you against the wall so you’re both propped up in a more comfortable position. “Thank you,” you whisper, and he shrugs. “Anything for you,” he mumbles, quiet enough so only he could hear what he actually said. You just heard some type of grumble.

Before you know it, you both doze off in that position, only waking up every so often to face the downside of too much alcohol. You were both woken up at seven in the morning. It’s now nearing eleven in the morning. Luckily, the both of you were feeling a bit better. You both took medicine, thoroughly rinsed your mouths with mouthwash and water, and ventured back to your bed, but still kept the lights off. You laid down and found yourself gravitating toward Shinsou again. He complied almost instantly, opening his arms as soon as he felt like he was in a comfortable enough position to doze off while still having you in his arms.

He knows this is strange. He knows that two friends shouldn’t be holding each other after a night of drinking. But it’s you. Even if the two of you are just friends, he would do literally anything for you. He just didn’t want to admit it. Sadly, though, you’ve caught on to it just as well as he has. “What are we doing?” he hears you mumble, and he shrugs. “Seeking comfort in a desperate time?” he suggests, and you feel yourself smile. But, no. As much as that could be an answer, that wasn’t why the two of you were so attached to each other. “Seriously, Shinsou. What’s going on with this?”

He pauses. How does he answer. He can’t come out and tell you how he really feels, can he? I mean, yeah, he likes you. He’s known for a while. But he knows how much you hate relationships. He knows your last boyfriend hurt you, of course he doesn’t know exactly how but knowing that you were hurt is enough. And listening to your songs, he can piece together just how bad of a person this guy was.

And yeah, you like him. A lot. But you couldn’t deal with another heartbreak. You really couldn’t, truly you think you’d rather die. But every time you tried to stop thinking about him, he flooded your thoughts again. And every time you talked yourself out of wanting him, the next moment you talked to him you wanted him all over again. The connection the two of you had was a weird one. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find everything about him attractive. “I… I really don’t know. I just… can’t get enough of you,” he answers, quietly, but truthfully. You shift around so you can look at him. He bites his lip, and you purse yours. “Can’t get enough of me, huh?” you tease, and he smiles softly. “I don’t want to ruin what we have,” he really doesn’t. But truthfully, he should face the rejection now and move on with his life later than fall even more for you, “but I have to say, (Y/n). I’ve never met someone quite like you. I mean, your talent, your personality, your… everything. It’s… very addicting and honestly, I just can’t get enough of you. Even right now. There are some things I would love to do with you right now,” he says, his eyes darting to your lips. He wonders what it would be like to kiss you. Of course, this isn’t the first time he’s wondered. He has actually wondered quite a lot. Funny, he tried to push all those thoughts away but right now, he knows he can’t do that anymore.

“Hmmm,” you make a noise, your face contorting into your thinking face. He knows that face pretty well now. He sees it a lot. When you’re writing lyrics, when Mina asks a question, when you’re trying to figure out what chord progression to use in this new song you wrote, a bunch of different situations. And even though he thinks it’s adorable, his heart is beating way too fast with anxiety. He doesn’t expect you to want him back, he just hopes your friendship isn’t fucked. You’re quite literally, one of the best things that has ever happened to him. “Well, this is a predicament,” you mumble, and he raises an eyebrow. “Huh?” He’s confused. What do you mean by–

“I’m supposed to be the resident relationship hater and here I am, liking someone. A lot. This is a predicament. But it’s a predicament I am willing to live with.” He stares at you for a moment. Did you just… confess back…? “You mean…?”

“We can… have something between us. Under two conditions.”

“What conditions?” He’s way too eager to have whatever this is between you two continue, and he knows it. But he can’t help it. The things you do to him just aren’t fair. “We don’t put a label on it or tell anyone, no one else needs to know, especially Mina and Denki because then we wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

“Agreed.”

“And… no falling in love with each other. Okay? Just… a strong attraction towards each other, yeah?”

No falling in love. He should have seen that one coming. That will be… difficult, to say the least. But he understands where you’re coming from. He doesn’t want to fall in love either. That means another person to worry about, and call him selfish, but he really just… couldn’t handle that. He already had to worry about his mom every day. Adding you to that would be unfair to all parties involved. He nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay, cool.”

“Yep.”

“Sweet.”

“Question.”

“Answer?”

“Can I kiss you. Right now. Please?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And with that, he leans down, finally pressing his lips against yours. He’s kissed a few people in his day, and he’s good at it, but he’s never felt the feeling he got from a kiss quite like the feeling he got kissing you. He swore his hear was about to beat out of his chest, but so was yours. You were feeling the exact same way he was. Something about him was just… intoxicating and this kiss? Well, you imagine that this is what a first high would feel like. You’re going to want so many more afterwards. When you both pull away, you just stare at each other for a moment, before he breaks into a grin, and kisses your nose. “You look cute after I kiss you,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “And suddenly, noise is making my head hurt even worse,” you say, causing him to snort. “Hmmm, then how about you make me shut up?” he says, and you smirk. “Gladly.”

Thank GOD Mina and Denki were nowhere near you two. They would never let either of you live down what’s happening. Being quiet with this wouldn’t be that hard, in fact, a lot of it was going to be fairly easy. The two of you were already quite touchy feely with each other, so what exactly is going to change? Shinsou doesn’t seem to be the type to be big on PDA from what you know about him, so it’s not like he’s just randomly going to pull you in for a kiss. Besides, even if he did, you two don’t have a label. Just friends with… benefits. But maybe not the sexual part of that. Though you wouldn’t mind if that part was included. You fell asleep in his arms again. This was something you were getting used to, and he was, too.

[damn-behzinga]

Happy Hours

summary - Ethan talks about you and your son on the Happy Hour Podcast.

warnings - talk of drugs, alcohol, teenage pregnancy, illness and death, swearing, my terrible writing

Part two of After Meeting A Little Early

masterlist  -  request here

Ethan talking on the happy hour podcast

"So I wanted to talk about your wife and son if you don't mind?" Jack asked.

Ethan nodded. "Yeah, of course."

"So when did you have your son and how old is he? How did you meet your wife? What's the story?" Jack questioned

"So, my wife and I met in secondary school and then we went to the same college. We became a thing in year eleven, and we didn't plan to go to the same college but the college did our courses. I studied games development and web design and she studied criminology with psychology and forensics." Ethan explained.

"Woah!" Jack exclaimed. "You were so young!"

"Yeah and we had both turned seventeen and we found out that she was pregnant." Ethan swallowed, he always got nervous talking about his son and his teenage pregnancy, people reacted massively and changed their opinions in seconds.

"Wow, so you were literally teenagers when you had him?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, so Ben - my son - was born October 2012." Ethan nodded. "He's eight this year and I don't really show him on camera. There are those odd few moments where I do take a video with him but I did decide that whether he wants to be in videos is his decision. Kids are fucking brutal nowadays and I don't want him getting wrapped up in shit like that." Ethan explained.

"That has to of been very difficult for you. How did each of your parents take it?" Jack asked.

"So, y/n's parents kicked her out and haven't spoken to her since. She talked to her grandparents and siblings still but not her parents." Ethan explained.

"Holy shit!" Stevie exclaimed.

"My mum let her move in with us which I don't think I'll ever be able to thank her enough for it. My mum was nervous but when I said we chose to keep him, my mum wasn't necessarily happy, but she was accepting and questioned me to make sure we were ready." Ethan said.

"That's a smart move though. I rate that!" Jack said. "She's protecting you!"

Ethan nodded. "Yeah, yeah."

"So, you were doing YouTube at this time as well right?" Jordan asked.

"Yeah. I was doing three videos a day and full time at college." Ethan explained. "I was getting about an hour of sleep plus a nap every night and it fucked me up. I had met Josh, Tobi, Simon, and JJ at this point and I decided to not to tell them about Ben until a month before we met in real life."

"Why is that?" Jack asked.

"To be honest, I was scared," Ethan stated. "I was scared people weren't gonna be accepting of my early parenthood, you know?"

The other men let out noises of the agreement as Ethan nodded.

"So, how did they react?" Jack pondered, watching Ethan carefully.

"They all accepted it but they didn't meet him until he was three and it was a big situation because this is my son and my best friends and I wanted them to be comfortable around one and other." Ethan coughed slightly. "Yeah, now Ben refers to them as Uncle. It's amazing."

"That's well sweet!" Stevie chuckled.

"Oh my God, who's his favourite?" Jack exclaimed quickly.

"Um, he loves JJ and Vik." Ethan laughed. "He and JJ have a handshake but when Ben is in a room with anyone, the first person he goes to is Vik. He always gets Vik to play with his toys."

The other men awed.

"I will say," Ethan said. "The boys are lifesavers. A few weeks before Ben's seventh birthday, it was the hardest month of mine and y/n's life. Y/n lost her Nan, her granddad got ill and because of y/n's parents we weren't allowed to go to the funeral so we never got to say goodbye." Ethan swallowed. "Even more, y/n lost her job and everything was just hitting us. The boys set up an entire birthday party for Ben and paid for everything and got him presents. Honestly, me and y/n cried of happiness that night when Ben got to bed."

"That's bullshit. No offence but that's still y/n's family, they could at least have let her go!" Jack argued, and Ethan just nodded not saying a word. 

"God, I couldn't imagine that all happening especially in the same month." Stevie shook his head in disbelief. 

Ethan nodded and swallowed. "We got married that same year. We had been planning it that year and we were fortunate for y/n's granddad to come along because he was really ill at the time. We got married in the beautiful garden and I had the men as my groomsmen. Y/n had Freya, Talia, Katie, her sister, her two friends from college, and Sarah. Ben was stood next to us whilst it happened and he was a ring boy."

"Thank you for inviting us by the way." Jordan smiled.

"It's alright, mate." Ethan grinned. "We were gonna have family and the bridesmaids and groomsmen and that was it. We decided that we wanted everyone to come because everyone has had some role in our lives. Thankfully everyone committed to the no filming rule, we did get it filmed but we only released a few clips from it."

"Beautiful ceremony by the way. Where did you go on your honeymoon?"

"We went to Bora Bora which is gorgeous by the way."

"Lovely!" Stevie nodded.

"Honestly, I found out you were a dad before I actually met you and, I'm not gonna lie, I was worried about the fact you were a dad and whether you were gonna be a good one but I met you and realised, you are a good dad and you'd do anything for your son," Jack explained.

"Many people believe that!" Ethan chuckled. 

Jack nodded and continued. "You and y/n are the best parents I've ever met and, when I came down just to see everyone, it was nice because everyone was out for dinner and you bought Ben out with you. I am not exaggerating when I say he is the most polite and smart boy I have ever met. He started talking about animal facts and asking if I knew that Baloo from the fucking Jungle Book - or whatever it's called- was a sloth bear!"

Ethan laughed. "He gets all his brains from his mum honestly. Not me at all! I got fucking suspended from school a few times."

The men all laughed as Ethan took a sip of his water.

"Honestly, you should be proud of your son and y/n. You are some of the best people and parents I know!" 

Ethan blushed and smiled softly. "Thank you, that means so much more then you can imagine."

---

"So you said you were going through a hard time in 2015. What was y/n's reaction to that?" Jack asked.

Ethan took a deep breath and said. "So, Ben was turning three that year but it was a few months before his birthday. I was stupid, doing drugs and drinking way too much. It was a dark period in my life and y/n had come up to me and basically said, 'get your shit together, Ben and I are staying at my sister's and will stay there if you don't quit by the end of the month'."

"Fucking hell, y/n don't take shit!" Jack laughed.

"Yeah, but fair enough. I was putting my needs before our own son's which is fucked and I wasn't thinking right." Ethan explained. "About three weeks into her being gone I had got rid out of all alcohol out of my apartment and weed and whatever. I took a train up to y/n's sister's house and I told her that I got rid of all the shit and she came back that day. We went out to dinner and that was the moment where I realised how much y/n benefited my life."

The other men awed and Ethan chuckled.

He was grateful for everything you had bought into his life. There was never a dull moment with you and Ben by his side.

[lennox-levin-little-lilith-did]

Hello people who follow me

For people who haven’t been following my blog all that much, I have Dissociative Identity Disoder, more commonly known as Spilt Personality, or Multiple Personality Disoder (which it’s no longer called this, the shortened version is DID)

DID is a disordercharacterized by the presence of two or more distinct personality states. A reaction to trauma as a way to help a person avoid bad memories.

Symptoms are;

Behavioral: impulsivity, self-destructive behavior, or self-harm (check, check, and check)

Mood: anxiety, feeling detached from self, or mood swings (check, check, and check)

Psychological: altered consciousness, depression, or flashback (check, check, and check)

Also common: amnesia or blackout (huge check)

Let’s start this my early childhood-

I never had a dad, he was in and out of my life constantly. So I was always looking for a father figure.

It didn’t help my mom was hopping from man to man at the time.

However I had one man in my life that never left and loved me like his own. That man was my uncle. I loved him so much, I still do, but by no means was he a good role model. He was in to drugs, never took his medication, and I think was in a gang (that if he hung out with some really bad people). One memory I have of him is him letting me help him make a roll (weed roll) when I was three or four.

I had a been diagnosed with ADHD by the time I was five. It was severe when I was younger, I couldn’t sit still or focus on anything, including school.

Anyways, one day, I come home from school, like any other day. I was happy because my grandmother had picked me up and said she would be staying with me for a while. (Mind you, this is what I’ve been told, I have zero recollection of this month). I come home to strange people and cars around my home, but I go about my greetings as usual. My mom had a boyfriend at this point, his name was Angel, he was nice (we’ll get back to him later). I was told to stay in my room with my kitten, Ella (yes the same cat I talk about to this day) and my dog, Sassy. My grandmother would come in to make I was okay, which I was. The next day was even weirder, a lady in a police uniform watched me get dressed for the day. My teachers treated me differently and I had to leave school early. I was confused, I also hadn’t seen my uncle in two days without communication. I was asked multiple questions about my uncle and I answered them honestly. I later learned that he had buried a woman’s body, had he killed her or not is a mystery as there was someone else with him that day he buried her.

My uncle had schizophrenia, and he had just revealed to me that he had an episode when everything was happening and he was off his meds.

We had moved in December of that year due to people screaming slurs at me whenever I went outside. I don’t remember this, again I have no recollection of that month.

I developed severe emotional issues, including bottling things up and exploding in violent outburst. My ADHD made it hard to focus on schoolwork, specifically reading. I alway spaced out while reading, and heard a small distracting voice, telling me to play with my stuffed animals or watch TV (I didn’t tell my mom this and I still haven’t). My mom didn’t understand why I was like this. She thought I was acting out for attention. So first through third grade I suffered and started to hate school. I started to hate my classmates. So I started to let that little voice speak for me. Eventually I started blacking out during school.

I didn’t know this wasn’t normal.

I didn’t know that when my mom asked what did I do at school, she thought I just didn’t want to talk about school.

Time skip to sixth grade (the worst year of my entire life)-

I was eleven at the time. I had friends, I was a social butterfly. Yeah, sure I had people I didn’t like, but I didn’t let them effect me.

Until November 29, 2016 (yes I remember the exact date)

The weekend before I had slept over at my bestie’s house, then I went home because I had 4-H on Sunday. I got my phone taken away Sunday night because my ‘friend’ wouldn’t stop texting me. I saw on my google docs I had a new document, shared with my teachers. It was nice, complimenting them on their teaching skills. But I didn’t write it. It wasn’t my typing style.

I went to school on Monday like any other day, happy and cheerful. Around second period, I got called to the office. I was asked if I wrote the doc that was under my email. I said yes because it was nice, I didn’t think anything was wrong with it.

Boy, was I wrong... (holy shit I’m about to cry writing this)

I got called down a second time, this time my principal was saying I hacked into others school accounts and wrote a threatening letter on google docs under another student’s account. I started to deny that I wrote anything, that I thought the doc was written on a spur of the moment.

The third time I was called down, it was with my best friend, Angie. We both didn’t know what was going on and denied any and all accusations.

The fourth and final time I was called down was at the end of the day... my teachers were there. They wouldn’t listen... they didn’t care what I said... I was a sweet girl with dreams and passions. I loved my teachers with all my heart... it didn’t matter to them. Nothing mattered to them (here come the waterworks).

I said I did it to protect my friends from getting in trouble...

In the end, I got three days of in school suspension and a beating from my mom that I don’t remember.

The first day, they forgot I was there. I was in a little white room, with a chair and a desk. The social worker came in and asked me if I had really done it. I had a good relationship with her, I really liked her... I shouldn’t have trusted her.

The second day... the second day, the principal, vice principal, and social worker of the school came into the room and I was confused. Then the screaming started... the banging on the desk. They thought on Monday I had written another doc to my teachers, saying they didn’t scare me and they could go fuck themselves and I changed a student’s pfp to a bloody knife.

Then the principal came around behind me, still screaming her head off, and slammed her hands down on my shoulders and squeezed, hard, resulting in bruises later that day. After that, the little voice took over and started crying. Sobbing for them to leave us alone. They walked out leaving a broken child in their wake.

I had curled up under the desk and continued to cried, repeatedly saying, “I want to die, I don’t deserve to live...” the social worker came back in and tried to calm me down, but I looked at her and said I wanted to die. This was the first time of so many, that I had a suicidal thought.

211 services were called and I told them I felt bad about everything I’ve ever done, continuing the lie I’ve been dragged into. I can’t tell the truth... They wouldn’t believe me anyways... I had thought. I went home and stayed home for the rest of the week. That night I walked into my kitchen and opened my knife drawer and pulled out the biggest knife, mind completely blank. I gently slid it against my wrist, thinking about cutting. I didn’t. I put the knife away and went back to my room, empty. I felt lost, and like I was drowning.

A third voice slowly developed. It was a boy this time, he was sad and hated talking to others (I’ll get to my second voice development in a bit). He took over during school, all though I could think on my own and speak, he had main control. I had a mental breakdown later that week after my class had been too loud, I told my music teacher it was because I had sensitive hearing (which was part of the reason). I stayed hidden during recess, and I sat in the back of the lunchroom with people I didn’t like or know. My outbursts only got more violent and more frequent, to the point where I would push my mom and stepdad (remember Angel, yeah him), resulting in more beatings from my mom.

My aunt got a lawyer to extinguish the suspension from my permanent record. The lawyer didn’t want to help all that much because he thought I was hiding something, which I was, but I refused to tell. The suspension was extinguished and I was allowed to use the school computers again.

I went to a new school the next year and transferred to where I’m located now...

First-seventh grade (the second voice’s development)-

My stepdad (Angel) was nice the first year my mom dated him. Then everything started to change. He started coming home drunk. After my little brother was born, things only got worse (and no, I don’t blame my brother for the change, it was envitable). He started getting angry at my mom, and at me. He started calling me a bitch, a little shit, a mistake.

I started to have out of body experiences, whenever I violent towards him. Pushing him, slapping him, punching him, scratching him. One time he slapped my mom and my mom’s therapist called DCF on her. I’ve been told I had walked into the kitchen right when he slapped her. However I don’t remember, I just remember the feeling of uncontrollable rage spreading through my body.

I don’t remember there being a voice in the beginning, I remember being one place or doing one thing, get angry, and suddenly being somewhere else. Especially when Angel started calling me names.

Another time, right after my mom had carpal tunnel surgery, he left suddenly. I was in the basement reading and playing with my bunny at the time. I came back up when my mom started screaming for me. The front door was left wide open and my brother left in the living room. We had Max and Ella, it was the summer of 2016. My mom was hysterical, screaming at me, saying it was my fault he left, that everything was my fault. I left the house and stayed with my neighbors for an hour, waiting for my mom to calm down. I went back and was sent straight to my room. I remember being angry, so mad at myself for no reason. I hated myself. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression the next year.

There’s a shit ton of stories I could tell about Angel getting drunk or leaving the house and coming back drunk. I won’t. I’m not here to tell a sob story, I never will ask for pity. I’m telling you how small things to certain people can be huge to another. My mom didn’t think it affected my all that much, my therapists thought I didn’t need intense therapy despite everything. All because I didn’t know that hearing voices other than your own wasn’t normal.

I started looking up depression and anxiety to help manage it better, and stumbled upon an article about schizophrenia. I looked more into it and found out about DID when I was thirteen, two years ago. However I still didn’t tell anyone... I was scared.

I was a freak

I was unnatural

I had three voices, three other people, inside of me. They wanted control, they wanted a voice too. They became unbearable, and when I started high school, I broke.

I tried to kill myself. I started starving myself the previous school year and started cutting over that summer... I finally told someone about the voices but no one believed me, and still no does. They think I’m lying...

So I’m not diagnosed, but I know I have DID.

Who’s who-

Little was voice one- she’s a little, under the age of ten. Little isn’t her real name but I don’t want her name out there on the internet where people can manipulate her. She has ADHD and is incredibly hyper. This body doesn’t get much rest, so after someone else fronts, we usually have to sleep. She’s also a trauma holder, knowing what happened that month blackout. She has no interest in people romantically (obviously, she’s a child)

Lilith is angry blackout/voice two- she’s ageless, a prosecutor, and a secret keeper. She’s a trauma holder to the verbal and physical abuse I suffered when I was younger, really up until last year I was verbally abused by my mom. She has anger issues and severe mood swings. She rarely fronts, but when she does, Levi or I have to co-con with her so she doesn’t murder someone. She’s angry and is always aggressive towards me and Little. She leaves Levs out of her aggression though. Lilith is bisexual (no, not pan like I identify).

Levin/Levi/Lev(he goes by all of them however I prefer calling him Levi)- he has insomnia and major social anxiety. (Also is co-conscious with me rn) He’s apathetic and very neutral when it comes to opinions, but he’s humorous and super sarcastic when he’s comfortable. He’s a gatekeeper and he’s 18. He as food related anxiety, but no major eating disorders. He’s has no sexual desires, but is romantically attracted to girls.

Lennox(the writer of this)- they age with the body, so 15, and host/often front. They have social anxiety, depression, body dysmorphia, and is the first alter, or first recognized alter. They are nonbinary and pansexual.

I’m going to start labeling who your talking to, or who’s out at the time, like this

-Lennox (Kay?)

Thank you for reading!

I’mma tag some people I think should see this-

@one-pissed-off-child @madame-ree @queenzie-xo @anon-nom-nom95 @liveto-100 @aleiakit @gogetyoselfsomesoup @nadia-saaaaan @mai-ki-000 @martinidrinkingmartin @scalybunnypapi69 @pumpkineiji @cristinaweeb @pikaweebo @siyarduous-lazyaf @reijishiki

And to lighten my mood and for giggles-

POWER WALK BEFORE YOUR LATE ZUZU!!!

🤣🤣🤣🤣

[daddystevee]

Crashing Down

(steve harrington x hopper!reader / billy hargrove x hopper!reader)

BLEHHHHHH I’m having a REALLY hard time writing this rn, just because I feel like the story isn’t really progressing that much. And like i'm just going over parts of the show that has actually happened.. But i'm gonna keep truckin through i guess. I think this chapter is gonna be pretty long because im gonna try to get through a lot. There’s not a whole lot of Billy or Steve in this chapter but more like sister bonding with the girls <3 I dunno feedback would be greatly appreciated!!! <3 Thanks to everyone that's been reading it and thanks to @harringtown​ whose been supporting me through this whole thing. I honestly don't think I would be able to do this without her. <3 so go check her stuff out shes my main source of inspiration- also she's just the BEST writer like ever! She’s totally tubular. ;)

catch up here

Warnings: Curse words? Angst? I dunno anymore man.

Part 4/?

Word count: 2.1k (a big boy)

Summery: Sometimes things just don’t go as planned and your world just come crashing down, but it’s a good thing that you have people in your life to be there to catch you when you fall.

So there you were sitting on the counter in the back room of Scoops watching Steve pace back and forth, trying to understand Russian and eating a banana. 

Dustin cut off the recorder and asks Steve what he thinks about it. 

“Sounds familiar.” Steve says finishing off his banana. 

“What?” both you and Dustin say at the same time

“The music, that music right there at the end.”

You sigh heavily and put your head in your hands,

“Steve, you’re such an idiot.”

The two boys start arguing about the fact that Steve should be paying attention to the words not the music when you butt in again.

“I can’t take this shit anymore,” you said looking back and forth between the two fighting boys, “I’m going home.”

You push yourself up and off of the counter and start to walk out the door when Robin burst through the door clearly fed up and aggravated.

“Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there.”

She notices that her ‘You Suck’ board has been erased and looks at you as if you were the one to erase the board. You stick your hands up in surrender with wide eyes and looked back at Steve and Dustin.

“I guarantee you what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” Dustin said, looking to you for reassurance.

You just shrug your shoulders at him.

“Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyway?” Robin says.

You slowly start to back up towards the door with that question, “Yeah, I think I’m gonna go now..”

Once you make it out the door you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You hear Robin tell the guys that she’s fluent in 4 languages.

Dustin seems very impressed, “Russian?”

“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day” she says.

Both Steve and Dustin are extremely impressed by her fancy words, you pop your head back in the door before officially leaving to add a few words.

“It’s pig latin, for ‘you are dumb’, you dingus’ ”

They all turned their heads to look at you, Robin had a smirk on her face and sent you a wink while the boys had dumbfounded looks on their faces. And with your last few words, you left.

><

You walked out of the ice cream parlor and took a look around to see what you could do to pass some time.

After walking around, looking at a few stores you heard your name being called.

“Y/N!” Max screamed pulling El right behind her.

“Max! El? El, what are you doing here? You know you’re not supposed to be here right?” you asked Eleven, but looking at Max.

“SHE JUST- needed some girl time!” Max was quick to say, “The boys- they’re being real douchebags.”

You knew that all too well, especially with everything that’s been happening with Billy as of lately. 

“Yeah. We- wanted to go..” El turned her head to look at Max for reassurance. When max nodded her head, a smile creeped onto her face and she continued confidently, “shopping.”

You stood there with arms crossed looking at both of the younger girls. You remembered what it was like being their age, and you knew that the girls wanted to just have some harmless fun. So you smiled while rolling your eyes.

“Fine, BUT- only on one condition,” you started “you guys have to hang out with me.” 

The two girls both had giant smiles plastered on their faces. They looked at each other then looked back at you. They each took one of your hands and dragged you off to The Gap.

You and max both followed El around as she was looking around when she walked up to a display with a blue shirt with yellow, red and white lines on it. 

“Do you like that?” Max asks

“How do I know, what I like?” El responds

“You just try things on, until you find something that feels like you. Not Hopper, not Mike, Not Y/N,” she says as she points to you. You do a little spin showcasing your style, “you”

>cue shopping spree montage<

At the end of trying on lots, and lots of clothes El finally decides on two new outfits and a new romper. Max ends up with a new pair of sunglasses and you leave with a new hat and a few new shirts. 

You walk out of The Gap arm in arm with the two girls, giggling and smiling at each other like there is no one else in the world. The next thing you know, you’re being pulled into the Flash Studio.

You watch them dress up and take tons of pictures. Striking different poses and pretending to be someone else for the day. The even convinced you to take a couple of pictures with them. You truly were having the time of your life.

“How about some ice cream?” Max asks at the end of a fun filled day.

El looked at you with pleading puppy eyes begging you to say yes. She knew you wouldn’t say no to the puppy eyes.

You sighed and shook your head with a small smile on your face, “I don’t see why not.”

The three of you walk in to none other than Scoops Ahoy. You make your way up to the counter for the two girls to place an order. Right when Steve finishes making their cones and some other random cone Robin pulls open the divider,

“We’ve got our first sentence!”

“Really? Makin’ more progress than Harrington, huh?” you ask

“Can it Hopper” Steve says with a serious look on his face.

“The week is long” Robin says with a Russian accent.

“Well that’s thrilling.” Steve says sarcastically

“It’s progress!” she says before shutting the divider once again to continue her work.

Steve turns around holding three ice cream cones,

“Alright here ya go, you got a strawberry, and then a vanilla with sprinkles, extra whipped cream and a double scoop of peppermint stick.” he says handing the last cone to you.

The girls thank Steve but you just kind of look at him with a confused look.

“I didn’t ask for any ice cream Steve.” you say slightly confused

“It’s whatever, I know it’s like your favorite. On the house.” he says with a wink. He then turns to El, “Wait a second, are you even allowed to be here?”

Max and El start giggling and run away leaving you standing at the counter.

“Well, okay then.” he turns his attention to you.

“Guys, I think I’m just gonna hang out here until close! I’ll see you guys at home for dinner?” you half yell at the girls who are already out the door.

You walk around the counter and into the back room where Dustin and Robin were still sitting. They seemed to be discussing what they had found out and were trying to figure out what their next move would be. They just seemed to be all around struggling with the next few phrases. 

The week is long, The silver cat feeds, When blue meets yellow in the west. 

You weren’t sure if you should mention the fact that your mom, who knew Russian, taught you at a young age how to speak Russian, or if you should just wait to see if Steve remembers.

You choose to sit there and taunt them, making little side comments every now and then throwing them off track. The translation ended up taking well over 8 hours, seeing how they finished after the mall had already closed.

You all read out the whole phrase together for the first and final time for that day, the phrase didn’t really make any since, but you felt like this would be a good time to tell them what you had been hiding from them all day.

“You know we totally could’ve been done with this like 8 hours ago.” you say super casually.

“What?” the three of them as in unison looking at you like you were crazy.

“I mean you guys asked Robin if she knew how to speak Russian..” 

“But we never asked you- dammit!” Steve yelled.

“Steve, what’s she talking about.” Robin asks already kind of knowing where this is going.

“I’ll catch you guys tomorrow!” You say with a smirk grabbing your bag and heading for the doors.

“Holy shit.” Dustin says finally connecting the dots

“She knows Russian, (Y/N) fucking knows Russian! Her mom taught her when she was in like, the first grade or something.” Steve sighs as he puts his head in his hands.

With the biggest smirk on your face you were out the door and in your truck headed back to the cabin.

><

You walk into the cabin to music playing loudly, but coming from El’s room. You knock on the door a few times and you open the door to see Max dancing around and El looking through on of your older magazines.

“Hey guys, just wanted to let you know I’m here and was wondering if you guys wanted anything to eat.” you asked the two girls.

They both looked at you and shook their heads and then returned back to what they were doing before you walked in.

You closed the door and headed to your room leaving the door open in case they needed anything.

Suddenly you heard the music cut off but it was soon replaced with static, that could only mean one thing.

The next thing you heard was them giggling over whatever El had seen, putting a small smile on your lips.

There was a loud engine that sounded like it was pulling into the driveway meaning that your dad had finally come home for the night after his date with Joyce.

You emerged from your room to talk to your dad about how his night went. He was so excited to finally get to take her out on a date. But when he walked in the house, he obviously looked extremely drunk and would most likely be hungover in the morning.

He looked at you and then looked at El’s closed door, he suddenly became filled with anger.

“Hey- HEY! When I say 3 inches,” 

“Dad, wait it’s not what you-” you started to say as he marched furiously over to the door where he thought he would find Mike and El behind closed doors, “think.”

The door slams open and he finds not the couple, but only two innocent teenage girls lying on the floor looking at magazines and comic books.

 You stand there awkwardly with your arms crossed, watching as the mess of your father tries to hold a small conversation with the girls. He turns shuts the door and turns around to face you with a blank look on his face.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” You ask rolling your eyes slightly annoyed but mostly playful.

Hopper just has this smug look on his face, he goes to the fridge crack open a beer and gets on his recliner knowing that the little stunt he had pulled with Mike had worked.

You were finally ready to retreat to your room when Max pops her head out the door and asks you if you want to play a game with them and you happily oblige.

><

You sit down on the floor next to the bed where El and Max have a poster with names written on papers and a glass bottle, it almost looked like they were playing spin the bottle, except they would be using Eleven’s powers to spy on people.

They spin the bottle once and it lands on Mr.Wheeler and they decide that he’s too boring to spy on so they spin again and it lands on Billy.

“I don’t know, this might not be a good idea” Max says

“No!” you say almost a little too forcefully, “No, I want to know what he’s been up to. I really haven’t seen him in a few days.”

El nods her head, and puts the blindfold on as you grab the radio from her dresser and put it on a channel with nothing but static.

The two of you wait in silence for a few minutes before El says that she’s found him.

“What’s he doing?” Max asks

“I don’t know, he’s on the floor?” El says kind of confused, ‘Talking to someone.”

There’s a long pause before she rips off her blindfold, breathing very heavily.

“What? What happened?” you ask.

She just stares at you with a distraught look on her face, like she had seen something, something she wasn’t supposed to see.