#i like that you can really start from scratch with them despite them already acting like they've been in a committed relationship for years

[franeridan]

came to the conclusion that the reason why aventio has such a strong hold on me these days is that they're the highest purest greatest dumbest form of "I have feelings for you" (that feeling was friendship, but neither had ever experienced it before) and I find that stupidly compelling atm

[lancermylove]

Injured (HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Leona, Ruggie, Epel, Ace, Jamil, Floyd with fem!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: @bluestarluxa-blog

Prompt: How about the basketball club and spelldrive club reacting to their girlfriend taking care of them after they get injured? 

———————————————

Leona

The prince was initially grumpy and resistant, not wanting to seem weak, even though his leg had a nasty gash. "I don't need help; it's just a scratch." You were already prepared to hear those words, but you were determined to help him. Deep down, Leona truly appreciated your attention and care - and the fact that he got to sleep most of the day while you (and Ruggie) took care of everything for him. But did he admit this openly? No. His pride didn't allow him, but the prince felt loved. Sometimes, you caught him looking at you tenderly, but he quickly looked away when you noticed. Luckily for you and unknown to Leona, Ruggie captured a video of Leona staring at you with love. It's your MOST favorite video ever.

Ruggie

Ruggie was instantly grateful for your help; he always helped others in the dorm, but no one ever helped him. He often made light of the deep gasp on his arm: "Guess I'm not invisible after all, huh?" While he enjoyed your attention, he didn't want you to worry too much about him, so he never let you change his bandages. Ruggie knew if you saw his injury, you would panic or cry, and he didn't want that. He often teased you by saying playful and sweet things, like "I feel spoiled" and "What did I do to deserve this, but I ain't complaining." After he recovered, he pampered you to no end as a way to thank you for caring for and about him.

Epel

Epel didn't want your help because he felt embarrassed, but Rook convinced him to rest his broken finger and accept your help. He often tried to downplay his injury: "It ain'-isn't bad, really." Despite his initial reluctance, he was grateful you were willing to help him. Although, he often blushed and felt embarrassed about being cared for by you. In honesty, he was secretly happy and comforted by your presence and attention. Epel might have acted tougher than he felt, but his gratitude was evident in his eyes and the way he smiled affectionately.

Ace

Ace was a bit dramatic and exaggerated his pain from the bruise he received on his leg just for some extra attention. "Ouch, this really hurts! I need some serious love and attention," were the usual phrases he used to draw you toward him. While he enjoyed your care and affection, he also took the chance to tease you whenever you took care of him. Ace was grateful for your help, even though he never verbally thanked you. The genuine affection in his eyes was enough to show his true feelings. Once he recovered, he thanked you properly. "You know, having you around makes everything better. Maybe I'll get injured more often."

Jamil

Jamil was stoic and reserved, saying he didn't need your assistance as it was a trivial injury. In reality, he didn't want to cause you any inconvenience or make any fuss about his pain. But you and Kalim knew his twisted ankle was not a trivial injury. Jamil secretly appreciated your care and attentiveness but tried his best not to show it because he didn't want you to do more than needed for him. His favorite medicine you gave was your cuddles. And you were right - they helped lessen his pain. "Thank you. Your concern means a lot," he genuinely said once he recovered before giving you a kiss on your forehead.

Floyd

Initially, he was annoyed and grumpy about his dislocated knee. He also sulked and became pouty. "This is such a pain. I hate being injured." But when you started to care for him, he quickly became affectionate and clingy. Jade also thanked you for taking over and giving him a break from his twin's complaints. You lost count of how many times he told you he loves you. Floyd got so used to you taking care of him that he fakes injuries all the time after he heals just so he can have you around more.

———————————————

➣ Twisted Wonderland [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

[fangisms]

did you hear?

A/N: i just think he’s so lover.

gif creds: @qveenofthorns

Pairings: Neville Longbottom x Popular!Fem!Reader

Summary: Neville Longbottom accidentally starts a raunchy rumor about the popular girl in his potions class. And rumors fly. 1.0k words.

Warnings: ‘snogging’ help im not british and it shows, rumors, allusions to sex/promiscuous acts, teasing, pining, strangers/friends to lovers

Somehow Neville started a rumor about you. And somehow, through the unbelievably slippery walls of Hogwarts, the rumor made its way to you in less than a week.

It was an accident, honestly. And people kept blowing it way out of proportion. You were popular, more popular than he could ever hope to be, and when he said it, he had already accepted that nothing would ever really happen between the two of you. But this awful rumor made him sound boorish and borderline rabid when really it was supposed to be a harmless confession between friends.

"I heard Neville Longbottom wants to shag you out by the Quidditch pitch."

Even from a few tables down, he could see the mortification fall over your face like a black veil. Your friend giggled as she pulled away from whispering in your ear, and you clapped a hand over your mouth. He had to look away when your eyes flicked to meet his. Your friends spend the rest of lunch hour teasing you and snickering about him while you seem to shrink in on yourself.

Neville manages to avoid you where he can in the halls: taking the longer route, hiding in large groups. But none of it is very fruitful when you've got a very similar class schedule. In fact, despite his efforts, he spends nearly every passing period just behind you and sometimes even right beside you. Apparently, he's also got a clear shot of you from where he sits in the classes you share and you're even table mates in potions. Of course, he knew all of this before that nasty rumor was spread, he's just become hyperaware of it since then.

After making it through the week without too much tension, he finds himself scanning the pages of his Water Plants textbook in the Great Hall and not retaining any of the information. And as he props his chin in his hand, he notices you settle into the seat directly across from him, flashing him a quick smile before opening your own book.

He sits up, glancing around the room to find Snape preoccupied with a group of raucous students from Slytherin.

A small, crumpled piece of parchment rolls its way to your side of the table, stopping just before it topples over the edge. You set your book in your lap and look over your shoulder before unraveling the torn paper.

"I'm assuming you've heard the news by now."

A smile creeps onto your face as you flatten out the slip of paper and write your own message on the backside. You slide it across the table and just barely catch his eye.

"Here and there."

But he knows you mean just about every five seconds because this cursed rumor has been inescapable for as long as its existed. You slide the cover of the Hogwarts Gazette over as well. It's entitled, "Things Heat Up Between Popular Witch and Nerdy Wizard" just above a picture of the two of you smiling at each other in class with a few smaller headlines like, "The Rumors are True!" and "What's Next for the Unlikely Couple?"

He blinks. Who's reading this rubbish? Scratch that, who's writing this rubbish and how hard would it be to mame them?

"I'm sorry about that, it was supposed to be an inside joke. Honestly, I would never say something that awful in the first place. And especially not about you."

You give him a sympathetic smile and crumple the page and his note into a ball before sending back a new slip.

"I know."

He half-smiles before attempting to read again. But you toss him another scrap of paper.

"So what did you say then?"

You giggle when he flushes a bright pink before squinting at you and scribbling across the page.

"Something or other about wanting to snog a certain pretty girl. It was never meant to go past first base, honestly. Pure intentions!"

You shove the used paper in your pocket and glance over your shoulder with a mischievous look before delicately folding another piece and setting it in the center of his textbook. He opens it. But he doesn't get the chance to read it before it's snatched out of his grasp by a pale hand.

"Mr Longbottom," Snape drawls, "would you care to read this aloud since you two have insisted on interrupting your fellow students' focus?"

You hide your giggles behind your hand and Neville glares at you while Snape ushers him into the aisle.

He looks down the note and groans.

"How about those Quidditch Pitch seats?"

...

"Very funny," Neville grumbles while you hold his shoulder to steady yourself from convulsing with laughter.

"Your face! You should have seen your face!" You tease, tears nearly streaming down your face when you clutch the sleeve of his sweater.

"You set me up," he says, trying not to smile when you purse your lips.

"You started a rumor about me!"

"On accident."

You cross your arms over your chest and tilt your head to the side. "Then yes. I set you up. On accident. Walk me to Trelawney's?"

He rolls his eyes and offers his arm for you to loop yours through. You walk beside each other in silence nearly half the way, dodging confused looks and bothersome jeers from your friends.

"So," you mumble, looking at him with a cocked brow, "you really think I'm pretty?"

Neville shrugs. "And snoggable, I suppose."

He looks down at you and thinks he's never acted so cool around someone he likes so much. He thinks you're more than pretty and he wants to be able to tell you, but as you round the corner, the open classroom leers at you like a slippery snake. He spares you one last look and you peer up at him like a little dove. He goes pink.

You stop in the doorway and beckon him closer. And you think the nearly contemptuous smile on his face is new and ill-fitting but he's handsome nonetheless. You hold his chin and press a sweet kiss to his cheek before ducking into the classroom.

"See you in potions, Neville."

masterlist

[anqelbean]

I need a bingqiu fic where everyone reverse transmigrates into the modern world but only Binghe and Mobei Jun remember their old world cause now THEY have the system and their task is simple: find their husbands and make them fall in love with them again.

Seems easy right? They've done it once already.

WRONG.

Because, when Binghe finds Shen Qingqiu, he's heartbroken to find that his Shizun's personality is almost the same as before his qi deviation in their previous life, and has absolutely no interest in him.

He also finds out that for some reason in this life Shen Qingqiu has a younger brother, Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan is sweet and kind and pretty and gentle and funny and pretty. He's also closer in age to Binghe. Slowly Binghe starts to feel a devastating guilt every time he looks at him. He doesn't know where this man was in their previous life, but in this one. In this one Binghe is pretty sure he's falling in love with him.

He feels guilty because it feels like betraying his Shizun, his husband. He feels like the only reason he's in love with Shen Yuan is because he reminds him of his husband, but that's not fair to Shen Yuan either. It's like he's just replacing one brother for the other.

But no matter how much he tries he can't get Shen Yuan out of his mind.

Then his Shizun, Shen Qingqiu, starts dating Yue Qingyuan and Binghe's confused more than anything. He doesn't understand why he doesn't feel heartbroken. But when the System doesn't take away any points for this, he finally asks it "Hey, System." "Yes?" "Do you know why Shizun is acting as such?" "What do you mean? We've detected no abnormal behaviour from Shen Yuan." "No, not Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu— WAIT, WAIT, SHEN YUAN?????"

Then he finds out, this whole time, he's been going after the WRONG. GUY.

Shen Yuan, on the other hand is heartbroken.

Despite acting like he's straight his whole life (and very much believing it himself), there was just something that stabbed him in the chest every time he looked at Luo Binghe playfully flirting with his ge (while getting rejected every. Fucking. Time. Shen Yuan really doesn't know if his ge doesn't know the hottest guy on the planet is flirting with him, or if he's being an idiot and rejecting him).

He's gotten to know the guy quite well, and they have become quick friends. They talk, they text and they hang out, all the time. He finds that Binghe is an amazing cook (seriously, HOW can food be so good?). He also loves to read, and they proceed to rant about the books they've both read. He's also a huge cry baby. (Shen Yuan thinks it's cute)

And sometimes.

Sometimes he'll just look at Shen Yuan with so much, well, fondness. It's in those moments that Shen Yuan let's himself dream that maybe, maybe, this boy could be his.

Sometimes he'll say something that cannot be categorized as anything but shameless flirting.

Like the first time he made Shen Yuan congee. "This is the best thing I've ever had. Holy shit." "Ah, you like it that much? Alright then. I'll make it for you all the time, with variations." Then he proceeded to wink. WINK. (Shen Yuan did not blush. He did not. He's straight. It's just the halo-like light that surrounds Luo Binghe is enough to charm sven a straight man. Like him. Cause he's straight. Definitely.)

When his ge starts dating Yue Qingyuan. He expects Binghe to look heartbroken, but. He doesn't. He acts like nothing is wrong. Absolutely nothing is out of place.

Except he smiles at Shen Yuan with that fond look way more often. He flirts way more often. He cooks for him way more often.

Shen Yuan doesn't know how to feel about that.

Has this guy been some kind of playboy this whole fucking time? And when one target is no longer available, he just moves on? To his BROTHER? Yeah, no, scratch that, he knows exactly how he feels.

He's furious.

(Binghe has no idea why Shen Yuan seems so angry with him. He just wants to kiss his husband. Why must this always happen when they reunite?)

Mobei Jun on the other hand is having a, uhh, sorta better time. He's found Shang Qinghua. Shang Qinghua is the Shang Qinghua he knows, flighty, cowardly and cute. But, the thing is. Qinghua's absolutely terrified of him.

Every time he pops up next to him, he squeals and jolts so bad that one time he slammed into a door.

But he still blushes at their proximity. Still has the same taste in trashy novels. Still writes. Still loves having his hair ruffled.

They get together within 2 months. The system congratulates him 3 times.

[caustinen]

clegan drabble — chance encounter, first meeting, modern au

By the third time the guy makes his way over to the bar, Gale has to really work on not throwing his Coke bottle to the liquor shelf and start breaking stuff.

”Seriously man, are you sure we don’t-” ”No, we have not met before,” he responds as politely as he can through his teeth, “and no, I do not need company. And no, I will not go home with you. Excuse me.”

The guy’s drunken gaze falls to his lips as he talks, making Gale suspect he has not heard a single word he has said all night despite repeating himself over and over. The glassy eyes eventually turn back to his, and the man licks his lips as his expression morphs into a what he surely thinks is a seductive smirk.

”Come on, baby. Humor me a bit. Let my buy you a drink.” Gale exhales in frustration. The ick he gets from this man is ridiculous. ”I told you already, I don’t need a drink, I’d really just like to-”

He stops abruptly when the man takes a tight hold of his bicep. ”Hey, could you-” ”This hard-to-get act is getting old now, gorgeous.” ”I’m not-” The grip gets tighter, another hand reaches for his thigh, and Gale is about to get violent despite not wanting to get in trouble at their frequent spot when-

”Hi Buck, there you are! I’m real sorry I left you here all by yourself for so long, the queue to the toilet was insane.” A pleasant, carefree voice comes up from behind him. He turns to find a gorgeous smile on a gorgeous face he doesn’t recognize. The man’s smile is tense on a futher look, though, and his eyes are questioning as he lays a careful hand on Gale’s shoulder, clearly ready to pull back immediately if he gets any indication that the action is unwanted.

Gale exhales quietly again before covering the hand now on his shoulder with his own, immediately catching on. ”It’s okay.” It’s easy to slide away from the icky man’s grasp now, his surprise making him loosen his hold on Gale. Gale tries to avoid looking at him and accidentally leans closer towards the other man, his aura calming despite towering over Gale’s propotions in every direction. The man doesn’t seem to mind, still smiling from under his curls. ”Ready to go home, doll?”

Gale nods immediately. The drunk dude has been looking between them for a bit before his eyes land on the taller man. ”I’m real sorry mate, I didn’t realize he was-” The man’s face changes immediately when he looks away from Gale to the other guy, the youthful happiness turning into coldness that makes him look mature and strick. ”Yeah, whatever. Go home, sober up and learn some fucking manners, you fucking jackass.” With that, he’s gently leading Gale to the door.

He doesn’t let go until they are out of the other guy’s view, but he does drop his hand immediately as the door closes behind them. It’s probably the chill of the autumn evening and not the departure of the solid body against him that’s making Gale feel cold suddenly but it’s still unpleasent. ”Sorry,” the man says almost frantically, ”I didn’t mean to intrude but you were looking pretty miserable before he even showed up and when he got his hands on you-” The man sighs and shakes his head. ”Didn’t look like you were happy with it, somehow, so I just wanted to check on you. No clue where the fake boyfriend thing came from though, I’m so sorry if I-”

”Don’t be,” Gale says firmly, and the man immediately relaxes again, ”I don’t know why I froze like that, it was nice someone else de-escalated it like that. My friend went to argue with his boyfriend on the phone like 30 minutes ago and never showed up again so I was pretty pissed anyway.” The man nods, and the warmth Gale feels under his intense gaze shouldn’t feel this exciting, surely.

”Well then…” The guy lifts his arm and scratches the back of his neck, ”I don’t wanna take more of you’re time, I hope you’re oka-” Gale doesn’t think, in an unusual manner to him, when he interrupts him. ”I, eh, actually… I’d love to thank you somehow? Maybe buy you some late night dinner?” The man’s face lights up again, and Gale feels silly in a way he doesn’t often do.

”I’d love that. I’ll go tell my friends I’m leaving and meet you up here after?” ”Sounds good.” They stare at each other for a beat despite the words, and Gale swears he’s not blushing when he sticks his hand out jerkily. ”Gale Cleven.” The man smirks, his eyes turning to lines as it overcomes his face. ”John Egan,” he introduces himself as he reaches to shake his hand, ”but you can call me Bucky.”

[lumi-nescentt]

Max Verstappen seems like the type who would absolutely be jealous of his cats getting more attention than him, add in that his partner is allergic to cats, and she's still choosing to spend the few hours they have together when Max is home, cuddling with the cats instead of cuddling with Max.

There's just something sweet in my mind about a whining Max who's loosing to his cats, despite his girlfriend being all teared up and snotty because of her allergies, the cats are cute, and she has to cuddle them.

This is a mess of an ask, I apologise

Head On The Pillow, I Could Feel You Sneakin' In

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Max doesn't consider himself jealous. But he might start acting a little grumpy if he sees you choose his cats over him one more time.

A/N: Omg please don't apologise this was the cutest idea ever and after writing angsty stuff all week I was thrilled to have something sweet to think about :) I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it hehe

Giving you a key to his apartment had seemed like the best idea for the two of you after dating for a few months. Max could tell you exactly when he was supposed to be back and he knew you’d be there waiting for him if you could. It was also good for when you missed him too much and wanted to either steal some of his clothes while he was gone or just stay at his place surrounded by so many things that screamed Max.

Normally, Max would have been over the moon to be with someone who was comfortable enough in his own home to spend time there with or without him but lately, Max seemed to notice a certain pattern. 

No matter when he called or texted, if you weren’t supposed to be working, you were always at his place. This first part wouldn’t have bothered him at all if it wasn’t for your cat allergies. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been but your eyes still got all red and puffy whenever you were around Jimmy and Sassy and you sneezed a lot. 

Max had tried to convince you countless times to stay away from them but you couldn’t resist them. They just had to be in the same room as you and you were already calling them over so Sassy could rest on your lap while Jimmy nuzzled against your side. If the cats realised you were allergic to them and tried to keep yourself from sneezing on them, they didn’t show it and gave you back as much love as they could. 

Part of Max was almost in awe to see you being this affectionate with his cats when they barely acknowledged him most of the time but he couldn’t help from wanting to be the one to receive all the attention. It had been fine during the summer break because you were spending all your time with him anyway but now that he was always gone, he really wanted to make the limited time he had with you count. 

As soon as the Qatar Grand Prix was over, all he wanted was to lay down with you in bed and not move for a few hours. He was exhausted, sweating all over and honestly driving in those conditions had been a nightmare. He really needed to complain about it, just to let it out, but with the media all around he wasn’t sure if his PR team would appreciate it so he kept his mouth shut, waiting to be all cuddled up in your arms to vent as you ran your hands through his hair like you usually did. 

When he landed in Nice a few hours later, Max had never been happier to have his own jet. All he could think about now was going back home to you, and his cats, but mostly you. He knew you’d be here because you told him so but he didn’t expect you to be in bed already, or to still be cuddling the cats instead of him when he lied down next to you.

-“ Schatje ?” he asked, only getting a sleepy groan as an answer “ Can you make them move please ? Jimmy’s claws are scratching my back and Sassy’s using half of my pillow…”

-“ They’re asleep Max, I don’t want to wake them but I can scoot away a bit and bring Jimmy with me a little if you want.” you answered with your eyes closed, your face resting against Sassy’s head while her back was on Max’ pillow

-“ I don’t want you to move away. I want him to move away and you to move closer.” he grumbled 

-“ I can’t do that without waking them up. I'm sorry baby, I promise we can cuddle all you want tomorrow. Is that okay with you ?” 

-“ Yeah I guess, good night schatje.” Max gave in, stretching over the cats to place a quick kiss on your cheek before settling down as best as he could against Sassy

When Max woke up the next day to a pillow all for himself, he wanted to make the most of this chance so he turned around, ready to drag your body closer to his but just like both cats had left him, you were no longer lying next to him. Groaning ever so slightly, Max got out of bed and started looking for where you had decided to go at 8am when he knew you had the day off. 

He quickly found you on the sofa with the cats laying all over you while you were clinging onto the box of tissues for dear life, trying not to sneeze and wake them up. 

-“ I didn’t think you’d wake up this soon Max, did I wake you ?” 

-“ No, I just missed you so I decided to get up.”

-“ I missed you too, baby.” you smiled at him warmly

-“ Did you really ?” 

-“ Yeah of course I did, we haven’t seen each other in 2 weeks. That’s a long time.” 

-“ It doesn’t quite seem like it…” Max complained with a pout

-“ What do you mean ?” you asked, confused as to why your boyfriend would be upset

-“ Since I came back all you did was cuddle with the cats and when I woke up and wanted to do the same like you promised, you were already gone...” 

-“ I’m sorry, they were hungry and I didn’t want their meowing to wake you up so we went to the kitchen and then I sat down for a second and Jimmy fell asleep on me so I couldn’t go back to you.”

-“ Just put him down on the sofa, he won’t even realise that you’re gone.” 

-“ Yes he will ! And then he’s going to think I don’t love him anymore and I don’t want him to think that.” 

-“ He’s a cat y/n.” 

-“ So ?”

-“ He’s not going to care that much as long as you keep feeding and petting him the rest of the time. However, your boyfriend who just came back from a very tiring race and wanted to be close to you might think you don’t want him anymore if you keep choosing his cats over him.” Max mumbled, crossing his arms as he eyed the two cats stealing your attention

-“ You don’t have to be jealous, okay ? There’s still room for you next to me, you know ?” you chuckled, patting the spot next to you

Max was going to sit down next to you when Sassy appeared from nowhere and jumped on the couch next to you, laying down where Max was planning on sitting. That was the final straw for your boyfriend and before you could realise what was happening, Max was taking Jimmy in his arms and putting him on the sofa before picking you up as you helplessly laughed and asked him to put you down. 

Max made his way to your bedroom, closing the door behind him before the cats could follow. Once he was sure it was only the two of you, he put you down with a satisfied huff.

-“ Are you satisfied now ?” you asked him with a grin

-“ Almost.” he said before handing you a tissue and heading towards the joint bathroom “ Here, take your allergy treatment then go shower because your eyes are all red and your arm is too. Once you’re done, I’ll be waiting on that promise you made and without the cats anywhere near you.” 

-“ But–”

-“ No ‘but’ schatje, I know you love them but I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re allergic to them to get your full attention and to get you to put some distance between you.”

-“ They’re so cute, how am I supposed to not cuddle them when I need cuddles ?” 

-“ You have a boyfriend who’s perfectly able to do that too but since you seem to have forgotten, I’ve decided not to do anything all morning except reminding you that I’m way better than my own cats at this.” Max huffed, looking determined

When you came back from your shower, Max was waiting on a freshly made bed with two cups of coffee and a few pastries he had gone to pick up at the bakery downstairs. You sat on the bed for a while, eating your breakfast in front of a TV show you had just started together but as soon as you were done eating, Max was pulling you under the blanket and resting his head on your chest, tightening his arms around your waist.

-“ Isn’t this better than two fur balls that make your eyes itchy and your nose runny ?” Max asked, with his face buried against you

-“ It’s very nice, I have to admit.”

-“ I know but is it better than them ?” he insisted

-“ You’re really jealous, huh ?”

-“ Answer the question y/n.”

-“ Yes, this is way better Max.” 

-“ Good, I would have hated to have to sell my babies because they were stealing you away from me.” 

-“ You wouldn’t.” you exclaimed with a laugh

-“ I might if they keep you from me. I love them but I know I love you more, that’s for sure.” 

-“ You’re an idiot, I swear.” 

-“ I know, but I’m your idiot.” 

-“ That you are, now shush I want to watch this.” 

-“ Only if you promise me that I will come before the cats, always.” 

-“ Max.”

-“y/n.” he deadpanned, still waiting for you to comply

-“ I promise you come before the cats. You’re my favourite person, of course you come first.” 

-“ I love you.” Max smiled, placing a kiss on your stomach where he was now laying before adding “ Now shush, I actually want to watch this too.” 

-“ You’re insufferable.” you laughed, ruffling his hair slightly “I love you too dummy.”

[highvern]

Sales Pitch

Pairing: Moon Junhui x fe!reader

Genre: Smut, 21+

Warnings: dom reader, sub/brat jun, anal sex (m. receiving), pegging, oral (m & f receiving), degradation, sex toys, impact play, breath play, freak deakys fr!!!

Length: 3.6k

Note: for my bestie @wenjunehui i hope its all you dreamed of and more pookie

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

Part II

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“Do you think these make my boobs look big?”

You turn to find Jun modeling the new shipment of nipple clamps over his shirt, the metal chain glinting across his chest from each peaked bud. His hands lift behind his head to further highlight the adornment.

“Gigantic.” You quip, diving back into the box filled with an assortment of lube.

In the six months you’ve been working at Bad Kittyz, you’ve discovered more about your coworker's weird fetishes than you really should. 

Even in snippets of conversation with customers, you hear him recommend toys and gadgets like he’s tried them all. Products that haven’t moved off the shelf since you started and look like they’ve sat there even longer than that he talks about like old friends. The day Jun discussed the installation of a sex swing with a woman pushing sixty you came to the conclusion the sex dungeon under his apartment must be stocked beyond belief.

A crash from behind you makes you turn, finding Jun stumbling as he struggles into a harness.

“What are you doing?”

“We got these strap ons and—”

Cutting him off, you eye him with confusion. “I can see that but why are you trying it on? You have a dick.”

“Sorry I like to give our customers my most informed opinion.” Jun rolls his eyes, going back to fidgeting with the straps.

“Please don’t say that.” You wince. “Not when you sold that sex machine yesterday.”

“What do you mean? You don’t think we should try the products before selling them?”

You blush at the implication that he’s tried everything he’s sold. Including the sex machine.

“I didn’t say that. But you don’t even need a strap.”

“I’m not gonna sell it without first hand knowledge.”

“I think that means you should get pegged then.” You sniff, turning back to your work.

You don’t want to be honed into his body. Every breath, every creak of the old floor boards as he moves closer. Even the heat of his body against your back wouldn’t register under normal circumstances but now it's overwhelming. 

Jun seems hell bent on making it even worse.

“Is that an offer?”

An entire day of preparation only serves to fan the flames of nervousness. Wrinkled laundry from weeks ago gets folded, every dish you own sits spotless in the cabinets; you’ve even lint rolled your couch. It’s more than you’ve done for any hookup before and it makes you jitter with embarrassment. 

The day barely dips into the afternoon by the time you're done. It gives you too much time to think. Your bedroom is off limits. Already prepped with fresh sheets, towels, and condoms. If you have to see the set up you might start scratching at the walls.

A shot of liquor helps take the edge away. Just enough you can sit on the couch without shaking out of your skin. But not enough to stop you from rotating through the same apps over and over in hopes a distraction will take your brain away from thoughts of Jun bent over the edge of your bed with his ass displayed.

When he finally arrives, you nearly puke. Because now its real and you’re about to fuck your hot coworker with a fake cock like its just another normal Thursday for him.

Jun smiles as you open the front door. It’s innocent at face value, only the edges tilting into something fouler. 

“What's up?”

“Please don’t try to act casual.” You warn, stepping aside so he can enter.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

He flings himself onto the couch and somehow manages to still look hot despite the awkward angle of his limbs. The bag full of contraband sits on the floor, unassuming despite carrying a menagerie of who knows what. 

Crossing your arms in faux nonchalance, you nod towards the opposite end of your apartment. “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

“Okay?”

“Listen, it's not that I don’t trust you.” You sigh. It's a lie. You trust him as far as you can throw him. For all you know that tote bag could have cuffs and collars and a sex swing tucked away. “But I’m about to be closer to your ass than should be legal so I want to make sure.”

“Fine.” Jun shrugs, slipping past you while removing his shirt. “Are you coming too?”

The broad expanse of his back disappears behind the bathroom door. A creak preceding the patter of the shower vaguely registers in your brain still operating a mile behind. You don’t follow immediately, unwilling to bear to witness what he needs to get done. And maybe you want him to sweat for it, knock him off balance the same way you’ve been since he asked for this. 

But after a few minutes your feet move you his way, clothes falling with each step closer to the cracked door. But not before you snag the bottle of lube out of his bag. You’re almost disappointed by the lack of oddities beyond the strap on.

The hum of his voice bubbles behind the curtain. You find him lathered up when you duck into the stall, foamy tendrils lacing across his back and down his legs. 

“Wow, you don’t waste any time.” He jokes, turning over his shoulder to spot the bottle still squeezed tight in your palm.

Shouldering past him into the spray, you scoff.  “You asked me to pop your cherry and now you’re complaining?”

Jun doesn’t respond, scrubbing at his skin while following the streams of water webbing over your chest. You don’t object when he pulls you into his orbit, following until your mouths meet with ease. The nudge against your thigh feels juvenile against what you’re about to do but it doesn't stop you from taking advantage. 

Water doesn’t provide the smoothest glide but Jun doesn’t seem to mind, bucking into the catch of your palm. He turns pliant with a lazy swipe against his slit and a lick between his teeth. His shoulders shelter you from the downpour as you turn him, slowly dropping down until you’re face to face with his cock. 

Blinking lazily, you tongue where he leaks against your fingers, glowing at the twitch muscles across his stomach. Steam shrouds around his face but it can't hide the grind of his jaw.

“Good?” 

Jun nods, hands limp at his side. Finding the bottle again, your fingers shine with excess as you reach underneath and glide them across his ass. You suck him down to soften the stretch but Jun doesn’t so much as flinch when your finger slips in without resistance.

Popping off his cock, your eyebrow arches. “Have you done this before?”

“Umm,” he swallows, pinking from the neck up. “Define ‘this’?”

“Had fingers in your ass.”

He hesitates; bashful despite still being stretched over your knuckle. “Yes.”

“Wow, and here I thought I was special.”

Jun’s rebuttal is lost to a groan, ripped out by the curve of your throat against the head of his cock. The timidity of taking his first time evaporates through your veins, replaced by the hunger to be the best he’ll ever get.

A second finger proves little challenge either and you almost pull back to goad him but one glance at Jun’s face hints he might cum if you degrade him too much. Instead, you take the satisfaction of his taste on your tongue as a win and keep curling your fingers until his hips kick.

“More lube,” he croaks.

You rush to do what he asks, pouring so much onto your fingers it drips down his legs when you press back in with a third finger. The new stretch has you gagging on him again.

“Fuck yeah. Oh shit.”

Replacing your mouth with a hand, you lap at the raised vein running from his base to his abs. “How big is the dildo you brought?”

His Adam's apple bobs with your next stroke. “I–Mhmmm.”

“Jun, how big is it?”

The water creeps cold and you're about to start humping his leg if you don’t find something new to distract yourself with. So you stop until he answers.

“Small.” 

You reward him with a quick glide but that's all. “Think you’re ready?”

A quick inhale and a nod has you rising to your feet, rinsing off your used hand before turning the faucet and exiting into the chilly air.

“Grab the lub—” 

Jun cuts you off with his mouth. He laps away his own taste, nearly bending you in half with enthusiasm. The idea of lifting your leg and letting him fuck you against the counter whispers in the back of your mind; how easy he can fill you before you take him back to your bed and give him the same treatment. But, just based on how he kisses, you can tell if you indulge now then you’ll be much too tired later.

His stomach bows when your nails find his nipple, scraping the sensitive bud on a whim. Something about the way he responds, whiney and breathless, sends you into a frenzy. 

“Go grab,” a pass of his teeth, “your bag and,” another draw of his tongue. “Meet me in my room.” 

You almost cave to his attempt at drowning you in his affection but you break away, turning back to the shower for the bottle. Jun’s hand ghosts down your spine, fingers digging into the swell of your ass for a second until he dissolves through the door.

Unable to prolong the charade, you follow only a few seconds behind. 

Jun sprawls across your bed like a renaissance painting. Nothing but long limbs and lean muscle. Damp skin shimmering like liquid golden in the light of the singular lamp. One leg bent at the knee, not so subtly bringing your gaze to his length; stiff and sticky against his thigh. The harness rests at the foot of the bed, more daunting than the naked man only feet away.

Tossing the bottle of lube down, you grab the tangle of straps and try to orient yourself. It’s straightforward but the crawl of eyes over your body makes you falter. 

“Stop staring at me.” You bite when you nearly drop the entire thing.

Jun huffs, an arm flinging over his face. “I grabbed the one with a vibe built in. But you can use the normal one if you want.”

You refuse to dwell on the sweetness in such a vulgar scenario. The thick purple vibrator rests next to a smaller black one, both sleek silicone. If he’s offering you equal pleasure you’d be a fool not to take it so you snatch up the larger of the two and set to work. 

The harness shimmies up your hips almost too easily. All it takes is a tug here and a pull there and you’re ready to dick down your hot coworker with a fake cock and too much lube. And its when you notice the ring of plastic on the nightstand.

“What's this?”

You know what it is. Unpacked a box of them a few days ago while he helped a customer pick out a fleshlight. But getting Jun to admit it makes you salivate.

He peeks from behind his hand, eyes dropping to your finger donned with the cock ring. The smirk on your face refuses to be concealed under his view.

“A dick in your ass isn’t enough?” You ask, feigning innocence as you round the bed and sink the cushion under your knees. “Or are you really that much of a freak?”

Jun sinks back. Crawling over him, you plant on his thighs, savoring the twitch of his own cock when you drop the piece of silicon on his stomach. Your fake dick and his real one clash beautifully next to one another. You worry you’ve pushed too far, growing hesitant under his moon eyed gaze.

Raking your nails across his stomach, and Jun finally answers your goad when you reach the crease of his hip.

“I’m—I’m a freak.”

It’s completely silent as you eye one another up. Pupils blown and chest heaving at the cliff you’re about to jump off of.

“Then show me.”

Creeping up his chest, you rest the tip of the strap against the pink of his mouth. He doesn’t miss a beat, leaves no room for any more nerves as he sucks it in, the purple disappearing inch by inch behind his lips. 

You should have known he’d be messy, anticipated the way he drools and moans. But it hits you like you can actually feel any pleasure through the faux extension. Even if you don’t feel physical stimulation, his hands at your ass, pushing your hips until you catch his hint and give a few shallow thrusts of your own, makes your ears ring.

Jun campaigns for gold, swallowing around the intrusion like he loves nothing more than taking cock. Like he could cum like this, untouched, gagging on a fake dick while you watch him.

“Shit,” you curse as his nose meets your stomach, bottoming out in the softness of his throat like he’s sucked more dick than you’d believe.

You curse again when one of his hands drops to find the button that’ll make the end of the cock buried inside you vibrate. Hips rutting into the stimulation, tears bead in his eyes while he chokes. 

Rising away you push him back when he attempts to follow, “Fuck, thats enough. Jesus Christ.”

You find the bottle of lube and the cock ring. Dribbling a generous dose on his cock, you wait until he starts rolling it down.  Jun doesn’t resist the urge to jerk off, knuckles brushing against the spit soaked plastic of the strap.

Tangling your fingers with his own, you squeeze him through a tight fist until he’s kicking. 

“Turn around,” you breathe. “Don’t stop, but if you cum I will.”

He doesn’t tell you that he can’t cum with the new addition but the idea that he is staving off licks up your spine. 

More lube shines across his ass and you slide the head of the dildo through the mess in a tease, barely nudging at his entrance before moving away. The way he attempts to force you in is nothing compared to the curve of his spine when his chest falls to the sheets.

“C’mon,” he whines.

A fist stops him from sinking back, giving him just an inch of pure frustration and nothing more.

“How bad do you want it?”

“So bad.” Jun groans, gifted with another inch of stretch before you stop him again.

Draping over his back, you nip at his earlobe before whispering, “Then ask for it.”

Rising up, you give a harsh tug of hair, a broken cry cracking through the air.

“Please, please, please,” he chants.

Annoyance taints your sigh, sending you back to square one with the fake cock resting between his cheeks. It’s hard to pretend you’re not just as desperate. Between the heaven blessed image of Jun on his knees, begging for cock, and the vibrations making your thighs twitch, you’re nearly on the verge of begging him to fuck you instead.

You squirt more lube, making it messier like some cheap porno. Clean up will suck but right now you don't care.

“Please what?” You sing, hand massaging the lube between his cheeks.

“Please fuck me!”

You don’t wait for more, rewarding the bare minimum by letting him take as much as he wants as fast as he wants it. There’s no way he’s never done this before. Jun rides dick better than you, keeping pace without faltering and rocking with so much enthusiasm you itch for your phone to record such depravity.

Each clap of his ass against your pelvis rocks the toy just right inside you, until you're seizing. Part of you hates he’s getting you off so easily. And you take it out by leaving a red copy of your hand on his ass. 

Jun collapses with a squeak and you follow. Each rut of your hips has him rippling with one of his own, destroyed between the fullness of his ass and the roughness of your sheets against the sensitive tip of his cock. 

“Harder,” he whines.

You try. But few pathetic cants leave him crying for more than you can provide with the angle you’re in. 

Jun’s limbs shoot out when you sit back, scrambling to be full again. He looks over his shoulder, tears in his eyes as he opens his mouth. No doubt to curse you to high heavens for edging him.

“Flip over.”

On autopilot he flips to his back, knees rising to his chest to show off the damage you’ve done. His cock sits wet and aching, stiff in the confines of the cock ring. 

You slip back in, only teasing with more light strokes while working off his confines; the insatiable hunger to see him covered in his own cum infecting your every move. Jun’s lips are bruised, worried between his teeth at ever pass against that spot inside him. It’s worse when you circle his cock. Each jerk in time with your hips sending his head further back into the pillows and baring his throat for whatever marks you want to leave.

But Jun doesn’t crave the sting of your teeth or the plump drag of your tongue. Instead, without an ounce of reserve, he pulls your hand up the dip between his collar bones, blankets your hand with his own, and squeezes.

“You’re such a slut,” you spit, delighting in cutting his next moan off before it can even begin. “Say it. Say you're a slut.”

“I’m a slut!”

“Can’t hear you.”

Flailing under the beratement, Jun groans again. “I’m a slut!”

He’s so easy. So eager to roll in the pleasure and pain you provide. It bleeds through his features, the way his body contorts and his face shifts. It makes you itch to stretch him so far he has no choice but to snap. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Your voice is hopeful. Its all you want. All you need. “Is this all it takes? Getting called a slut with your ass full and you’re ready to blow your load?”

Another violent curl of his back until he’s nearly in half. “Shit, yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

This time when you stop, Jun takes over immediately. The tip of his cock peaks through his fist, pearly beads dripping until he seizes. Rope after rope paints his chest, crude gems in the low light. Face twisted in pure agony. He looks like a dream. Like a model in the magazines tucked away in the backroom of the shop. 

The end of the vibrator buried inside you keeps you at a dull hum. You bubble just on the edge of your orgasm but watching Jun twitch and writhe is better than anything you can possibly think of. Except dipping down and lapping away the stains on his skin, sucking his cum coated nipples until he drives you on to your back. 

It takes some maneuvering but he manages to wedge his tongue under the toy and find the patch of nerves like he’s been there a thousand times. 

He laps at your clit, hot and languid and dirty; all while he angles the vibrator buried inside you to bully against your front wall, breaking you into a twitching sweaty mess.

“Fuck, oh fuck—don’t stop.”

Your back curves, spine bending almost in half when Jun sucks and delivers another harsh push bordering on cruel. His free hand lands flat on your chest, forcing your shoulders back into the pillows with ease.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, curling your hips up into Jun’s face. He abandons his previous grips, focusing on guiding your body across his tongue until your thighs spasm.

His groans echo loudly despite his face being buried in your cunt; scorching into your muscles until it hurts. Cruel fingers pluck at your nipples, tugging until you yelp and then pinching some more.  Jun doesn’t stop until you wedge your fingers between your pussy in his mouth, continuing to lick and suck until he opens his eyes and realizes you're swatting him away.

Croaking an intelligible nose, you collapse; only focused on the soaking kisses across your hips and up your breasts. The tickle of Jun’s bangs against your neck don’t even elicit a response. The room spins as you return to your body. Only the weight of the man on top of you keeps you from floating away. 

Later, after another shower that is really only an excuse for some lazy groping and equally lethargic kisses, you cuddle up on the couch. Jun decides your chest is his new home, happily buried between your breasts while the movie drones on in the back. Weed still reeks in the air but it makes the edges hazy, glowing like the sun beats through your veins. 

“Ya know,” Jun whispers into your sternum. “Next week we’re getting ball gags.”

It doesn’t throw you off. Your fingers continue combing through his hair, nails scratching his scalp until goosebumps bloom on his bare back. “Let me guess, you wanna try them out?”

“If you’re offering.”

Your next exhale carries you to sleep. “Only if I get to wear it.”

@tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @horanghaezone

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 51)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

With the wedding coming up, Cillian and you made even more of an effort to remain on good terms than you ever did before. While he was away, filming the Peaky Blinders Movie, you video called him so that Mara could see her daddy every day.

Every day, before she went to bed, you allowed Cillian to read her a story over the webcam, whenever he was able to.

It was a small gesture that meant a lot to Mara, and it helped her and Cillian to maintain a connection despite the distance.

Your therapist welcomed the positive communication and reminded you that you were doing an implacable job by keeping him involved even despite his busy schedule. 

During that time, you also noticed a slight change in Cillian's behavior. He seemed more relaxed, more at ease with himself, and with you. 

"So, what's the plan for Mara's birthday next week?" he asked one evening when he skyped in from London.

"I was thinking a party actually. She has been at daycare twice a week and made some friends. I was going to invite them and their parents. My mum, Siobhan and Emma are coming too, and I think even your mum is driving down from Cork. I also invited two friends from my mother's group," you said, filled with enthusiasm for Mara's big day.

Cillian chuckled, his eyes filled with warmth. "Sounds like you got everything planned out," he said, sounding genuinely pleased. 

"You know it would be nice for Mara if you could come,"  you added, hoping that he might be able to make the trip.

"I would love to," he said, "but you know I can't leave the set, Y/N. I have a busy schedule filming and I'm just hoping that things will ease up a bit in the next couple of weeks," Cillian said with sadness in his voice. 

You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, but you knew that filming was important for Cillian's career.

"I know, but what I am saying is that you are more than welcome to come if you wanted to," you repeated, looking him straight in the eyes through the camera.

"And I appreciate that, really," he nodded, taking a deep breath. "But I still need to wrap up this movie." 

"I understand," you said softly, biting your bottom lip. "And, you know, you can always celebrate with her when you come back by taking her to the zoo or something. She probably won't remember the party anyway, but she will also remember the zoo," you chuckled, seeing how it was Mara's favorite place to go these days. 

"You are probably right you know," Cillian conceded, his expression softening even further. "Now, did you call the carpenter to fix up the shelving in the living room? I told him that you would call and to invoice for it. You might need that done before the party," he continued, seeing how one of the built in shelves had collapsed after you tried to carry out some DYI work on it. 

"No, he can't do it until the week after next, but Sean offered to fix it for me before the party which is nice,"  you informed him, noticing how Cillian's expression changed for a second.

"Sean, huh?" Cillian chuckled; his expression unreadable but you could hear a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Don't start, Cillian! Don't fucking start!" you shot back with irk, already feeling the familiar burn in the pit of your stomach.

"I didn't even say anything," Cillian smirked, his eyes glimmering as he studied your reaction.

"Then why are you acting the way you are when I bring up his name?" you asked, rolling your shoulders back, trying to release some tension in your body.

"I'm not. It's none of my business who you spend your time with so long as you keep Mara out of it," Cillian growled, scratching the back of his neck impatiently.

"You know what, I was actually thinking about inviting him to the party, as a friend of course and only if you would allow it. Because he has been a big help those last few days, running errands for me for her party while I was sitting my exams and he asked me whether he could come," you told Cillian nonchalantly, secretly enjoying his reaction.

"Oh, did he now?" Cillian said with a sigh as he adjusted the display setting. "So, you two are getting more serious then?" he enquired  without looking at you.

You could tell he was slightly irritated, he clearly didn't want to give you the satisfaction of seeing it on his face.

"Well, we are still taking things slow and we not being too serious about it. We agreed on no labels, but I still only consider him as a friend, with benefits,"  you replied, being brutally honest while watching Cillian's reactions closely.

"So poor Sean is still in the friend zone then, eh?"  Cillian quipped, the corner of his mouth curling into a slight smirk before he quickly hid it.

You noticed it, and it stung a little, but you tried not to let it get to you.

"Yes," you confirmed, doing your best to maintain a neutral expression. "He has been very supportive and helpful lately and I like having him around, but there is no pressure between us. We are both free to see other people. That's the way it is for now."

Cillian nodded, turning his gaze back to the camera. "Fair enough and thank you for clarifying your relationship status for me. I just hope he knows that too, because I am not the one who needs convincing Y/N," Cillian said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Whatever Cillian. Can you just give me an answer?"  you asked, your patience wearing thin.

Cillian's smirk faded, to be replaced by a look of annoyance. "What do you want me to say, Y/N? I don't want Sean around my daughter," he said firmly.

You let out a frustrated sigh. "Why not? He is a decent person and Mara won't even know who he is. There are other people there who are no more than friends either and there most certainly won't be any public display of affection," you argued , trying to reason with him.

Cillian sighed deeply, knowing that he couldn't win this argument. "Fine. He can come, but only if you make sure that nothing happens between the two of you that Mara might see, at least not until you are serious about him which, it clearly seems, will never happen," he relented , eliminating any obvious doubts in your mind.

***

Your mind began working overtime to decide a strategic approach to the situation. On one hand, you were glad that Cillian was allowing Sean to attend the party, but on the other hand, the caveat gave you a sense of unease. 

You explained the situation to Sean on your next date when your mother was looking after Mara and, much to your surprise, he was very understanding about it.

"My parents separated when I was twelve Y/N. I get it, so don't worry, okay? I don't even have to come. I can help you set up and then leave before Mara and your mum arrive," Sean suggested, trying to make things as easy as possible for both of you.

"I really appreciate that Sean, but I don't want you to feel like you have to leave on my account, especially since you have been helping me so much those last few days," you  told him sincerely.

"And I like helping you Y/N, because I know that being a single mum can be hard. Your ex hasn't really been making an effort to be here for Mara lately, so if I can do anything to help, I will," Sean replied with conviction.

"Cillian is away filming. That's his job Sean," you explained wearily, wondering if he had brought this up to upset you or validate his actions. 

"I know, but he should really make an effort to be there for his daughter's first birthday, don't you think?"  Sean queried, a hint of frustration coloring his voice.

"Maybe, but it's not my place to say or judge what he does, because he is still looking after us both," you responded, attempting to defuse the tension that had suddenly risen between you. "So, lets change the topic shall we?" you suggested, trying to keep the mood light and pleasant. 

"I am sorry Y/N. You are right," Sean sighed, taking a deep breath before giving you a gentle kiss.

***

Later that day, after you picked up Mara and Sean went his separate way to catch up with some of his friends, he couldn't help but feel slightly let down by the conversation he had with you about the upcoming birthday party and confided in a friend about it.

"Dude, you're acting like you are in some kind of relationship with this chick," his friend Mark joked, taking a swig of his beer. "You told me that you two agreed to be friends with benefits. You don't owe her anything other than your time while you are hooking up and she doesn't owe you anything either! So why do you even want to go to that kid's birthday party?"

Sean sighed, shaking his head as he stared out the bar window at the busy cobblestone street outside.

"Because I want to make an effort for her daughter and make her see that I could actually be right for her, you know?" Sean replied, finally giving voice to his true feelings. "It's just that she is so damn stubborn most of the time, and I know that she still has feelings for her ex, which I can't really compete with."

Mark chuckled, slapping Sean on the back. "Well, he is Thomas Fucking Shelby, man," he laughed, burying the rest of his beer in one swift gulp. 

"You are not helping Mark!" Sean rolled his eyes at his friend's remark. "I am trying here, you know?"  Sean said, sighing again, exasperated.

"I know, and Y/N is a lucky woman to have you," Mark smiled, clinking his empty bottle against Sean's before signaling for another round. "But dude, you need to just relax and stop worrying about her ex. If she wants to be with you, she will. It's that simple."

"She said she just wants to be friends and I don't even want her to meet you guys because I am worried that I will look like a fool when she decides to go back to  her ex," Sean sighed, sitting down on the couch in his apartment, feeling frustrated. "I mean, how am I seriously going to compete with someone like him, a famous fucking Hollywood actor?" Sean mumbled to himself as he paced around his apartment. 

"You may not be able to, but she may also just play hard to get, which is what a lot of women seem to do these days," Mark reminded him thoughtfully as he watched Sean struggle with his thoughts. "Maybe you should focus on being the best version of yourself for your sake and not for hers, and then she will soon see if you are right for her or not," Mark added with a raised eyebrow. "Or you could find something that makes her ex look really bad. He is famous enough, so surely, with the right help, you can dig up some dirt," Mark suggested with a sly grin and Sean's brow furrowed as he contemplated Mark's words, his mind racing with ideas of how he could ruin Cillian for you, once and for all. 

"Maybe I should try, yeah, but I don't want to fight dirty. Despite, I don't even know him or anyone who hangs out with him other than Y/N herself," he said, his morals preventing him from considering such a devious course of action.

"Well, let me help you then," Mark offered, pulling out his phone and conducting a quick online search. "I work for the Irish Times after all," his friend smirked,  focusing on the task at hand. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[forgeofthenine]

Hi, I love your blog ♥️

I was hoping to get some headcanons for Zevlor and the others, for when their non-tiefling partner tells them that it's not that difficult to read tail language because they've had cats for most of their lives and tieflings are similar enough.

Since we're already likening Zevlor to a wet cat, might as well go all the way. Tell him to his face that he's just a grown up catboy >:3

I honestly cackled at the last line of this ask, this entire thing was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoy!

The bachelors when you compare them to cats

Dammon

You'd known Dammon for a while now, learning the blacksmiths little quirks and attributes

One think you'd picked up on a while ago was the way his tail moves

Your eyes were often drawn to the way it would wag and curl in your presence, how it never quite seemed to stay still

It was only when you'd been giving a stray cat hanging around Dammons forge a scratch that you'd connected the dots

The blacksmith definitely wasn't expecting you to understand what his tail language means the next time he sees you

Having your partner matter of factly point out your excited tail wags is enough to fluster even the most self assured tiefling

When you compare him to a cat he gets even more flustered, letting out a light laugh as he asks you to be a bit more specific

Honestly, Dammon kind of likes the comparison despite being more of a dog person

He'll join in on making jokes about Tieflings being half cat, or saying that he's secretly a cat in a tiefling suit

Dammon is very chill about the whole thing and definitely appreciates having a non tiefling partner that can read his body language

Zevlor

Zevlor has a habit of dragging his tail when he's tired or upset while in the privacy of your shared home

He gives big sad cat energy a lot when he's recovering from his time on the road

It definitely helps you to know when he needs a bit of extra care and affection, being able to read his mood through his tail

Seeing the way it sways slowly when he sees you despite how it was layed on the ground originally

After some time, Zevlor starts to wonder how you always seem to know when he's in a bad mood

Sometimes you know even before he does

When he asks, the last thing he expected you to say was that he acts like a sad cat whenever he's upset

Zevlor is quite literally speechless at that, you can even see the cogs turning in his brain

He'll be confused by the idea but it doesn't change how he moves his tail is when you're around

Every time you liken him to a wet cat it's like trying to explain an internet phenomenon to your out of touch grandad

The way Zevlor is always so adorably confused and accepting of it as a compliment is definitely a sight to see

Rolan

This ever proud wizard is definitely an easy one to read, even if you aren't used to cats

His tail lashes behind him when he's annoyed, it curls in on itself when you praise him for his magical ability, it sways lightly when you enter the room

Bringing up his similarities to cats is something that just happens naturally

The two of you are reading in his study when he drops something and lashes his tail in annoyance

When you mention his annoyed tail language he assumes it's his siblings who explained it to you

He's halfway through cursing Cal and Lia under his breath when you say he's actually acting like a cat

It's enough to completely stop him in his tracks, furrowed brow as he considers your words

Rolans much too proud to let himself be compared to a cat without complaint, and bringing it up is an easy way to get under the wizards skin

His tail flicks around behind him and his face glows an even brighter red

Even better, get Cal and Lia in on the joke!

Make Rolan regret ever introducing you to his siblings, trust me, it'll be really funny

[strwberri-milk]

May I ask for Kaeya who can read minds and when you two meet that day he finds out you had a wet dream about him?

omg lowkey love this trope uwu

Despite being able to read minds, Kaeya's quite kind with his powers. He doesn't often purposefully look for minds to read and generally keeps within his own head to avoid fully violating anybody too much. He knows he wouldn't want anyone poking around in his head and so he abides by the golden rule most of the time.

This courtesy extends to you of course, that is until one day you seem incredibly distracted. He cares about you a lot, the feelings almost bordering on love if he lets them dwindle too much. He tries not to, desperately avoiding that possibility but right now he can tell you're incredibly distracted.

You weren't really able to look at Kaeya, only barely glancing at him and averting his gaze. He couldn't figure out why and any light prodding he does just ends up failing as you brush him off. You're just trying to keep yourself from falling apart at this point and every time Kaeya looks at you it makes you shudder.

He's trying to get your attention, frowning to himself as you act like everything is fine sans looking at him too much. Kaeya's worried he's done something to hurt your feeling and so when the two of you find a quiet place to sit along a lake he takes the chance to poke around just a bit.

You seem to have relaxed, laying down under the shade of the trees and covering your eyes with your arms. He lays down with you, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible as he starts to see whatever it is you're seeing. Almost immediately, he can hear you freaking out about something that slowly becomes clearer and clearer, an image filling his mind as his body heats up a little bit.

He's standing off to the side and observing the dream you had about him last night. You're pinned underneath him, legs wrapped tightly around his hips as he's muttering something into your ear. That part is lost on him as right now in your dream he can tell you've just cum, nails scratching down his back as you whine desperately.

Kaeya has no idea how long he's been inside your head just watching the dream you had. A part of him is almost surprised at how long it lasted, the lovestruck look on your face making him melt a little. Clearly, you have very strong feelings for him judging by the way your mind paints him and clearly, you've been fantasizing about him often.

He sits up, pulling out of your mind as you sit there next to him peacefully. The distraction in your head must still be playing out he muses, watching the way your thighs press together. He avoids staring at your crotch for too long, not wanting to accidentally embarrass himself by being caught staring at your sex. That doesn't mean he can't tease you though.

Kaeya leans down right up against your ear, whispering how he's so sorry he has to go and he'll be sure to treat you to a better day next time. You can feel his breath against your neck and you bite back the whimper, forgetting that he was right there this entire time. When you open your eyes, he's already leaving, unaware that he had his own problem he needs to settle.

[dani-says-stuff]

Two Skeptics And A Believer Walk Into A Haunted Room...

❥ Back to the Control Center

❥ I'm so so so sorry for the shitty and abrupt ending on this one, I just got bored and kiiinda ran out of ideas on where to take the last 20 or so minutes of the video... who knows I might make a pt. 2 and finish the video at some point if I can think of something to add

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Tommyinnit x fem!reader

Summary: Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke right? But, it just so happens to be a very accurate description of you, Tommy, and Jack entering the Ram Inn for your guest appearance on the Sam and Colby youtube channel

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: creepy stuff, hauntings, demons, language, probably an inaccurate spirit box session, inconsistent capitalization, shitty writing.. this is definately not one of my better ones

Dialogue Key:

Y/N

Tommy

Jack

Sam

Colby

James, the tour guide

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

The group of you began in a courtyard of the Ram Inn, Jack to your right and Tommy to your left while Sam and Colby stood before you.

Tom had originally just asked Jack to come with him for the video, assuming you'd want nothing to do with it after how annoyed you seemed during the entire 'uncle nasty' situation. He quickly realized his mistake when you followed him around the apartment for an hour begging him to ask Sam and Colby if you could come along. 

"And what about you?" Sam asked, eyes trained on you.

Jack had finished telling the story of his experience on stream and Tom declared his adamancy that ghosts aren't real, but you'd yet to speak. 

"Oh I believe 100%" you spoke with a smile, completely ignoring your boyfriend perched beside you staring at you as if you were insane, "I've always wanted to try something like this, I just couldn't justify spending all the money on equipment."

"Yeah" Sam drawled out scratching the back of his neck, "it does get a bit expensive." 

"Exactly!" you chirped, gesturing to the two older boys before you, "but since you already have it... now I get to do it free of charge!"

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

You quickly noticed, that despite his insistence that everything was fine, Tom was starting to get jumpier than normal inside the building.

Usually, whenever a camera is around, your boyfriend became a hyper-sugar-high-nighmare that would be bouncing off the walls and jumping all over the place. Now, however, it seemed he barely registered the camera being on at all.

Instead, he seemed dazed, taking special care to analyze every corner of the room and register every individual item placed in the general area. If you didn't know about the demons that were said to call this place their home, you'd say the scariest thing was the way Tom was acting. 

The guide soon gathered the group in the center of the room to begin the tour, "There's two main demons, One's an incubus and one's a succubus. John, who owned the building, he was attacked by them quite a lot."

You closed your eyes, lowering your head slightly in embarrassment for what was to come. You'd been dating Tom long enough to know exactly where his mind was at.

"So was he like... into demon..." 

You didn't expect that though. 

"Why would you ask that?" you hissed slapping his shoulder, before looking back to your guide, "was he though? I am kinda curious now."

Jack mumbled, shaking his head similar to that of a parent watching their kids doing something they shouldn't, "Children."

"No." James responded, drawing out his answer as if deliberating in his mind, "No, no-no."

Tommy looked down at you right as you looked up at him. The both of you stared at each other for all of two seconds before nodding in conclusion. 

"Yeah-"

"-he definitely did."

As the rest of the group continued talking over the specifics of the demons in the Inn, it took all of your strength to keep from laughing at your boyfriend.

"So like" Tommy cut off the guide, "what are the boundaries sexually? like I'm not trying to be immature... this is just like really freaking me out-"

"Tom!" you gasped through laughter, "it's a demon! Love, I dont think it has boundaries."

The rest of the group began laughing, everyone but Tommy. 

"Well what about my boundaries!" he complained hands splayed across his chest, only making you laugh harder "Don't laugh at me! I'm being serious!"

James, the tour guide entered the conversation, "No, is not no."

Toms's facial expression dropped, one hand going for your wrist while the other continued gesturing out before him as he spoke, "I- Well, mate that's not how that works!"

By now, you were practically on the floor with laughter, the only thing keeping you up was your arm raised high above you in Tommy's grip. 

"They're a demon, I don't think they care."

"Well, I care!"

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

"This room by far is the most... decorated?" you spoke, looking around at all the creepy items placed around the room. 

"Yeah, it's like theyre trying to make this place scary" Sam agreed, looking down at a dusty mirror desplaying the words 'help me' at the back wall of the room. 

Jack took the singular chair in the room, while the rest of the group stayed standing, listening as the tour continued. 

Well, continued for all of a few minutes when a candle fell from the table behind where Jack sat. 

You jumped, grabbing onto Tommy, "I didn't like-"

You were swiftly cut off by a girl's voice coming from the window, "Nope. I really didn't like that."

The group began freaking out, Sam moving closer to investigate the noise and Tommy tugging your arm behind him, shuffling in front of you. Creating as much space from that general area and you as he could. 

"Hello?" he shouted, one arm holding you behind him and the other holding the Minecraft sword before him, "Hello? Can you check the window?"

Everyone began deliberating what was going on, trying to figure out an explanation for what was going on. By now, you were burrowing yourself into Tom's side, one of his arms securely wrapped around you, swinging the sword before the both of you as he tried to get the group to go check outside. 

Sam tried to bring up the candle, but Tommy had his mind set on figuring out what was going on. The candle could wait, but if there were people waiting outside messing with you all, they could easily leave at any second. 

However, after checking around several times, it became obvious that whatever you heard wasn't outside the hotel.

It had to have been inside.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

You all decided to cut the tour short and begin the investigation due to the amount of stuff you all seemed to be experiencing.

So, you all began the night in the witch's room with the spirit box.

"Is there anything here that wants to talk to us?"

"Please just say Hi or something" Tommy spoke bouncing anxiously on his feet, "I'm really just not having a good time-"

Ooh

Sam pointed down at the box, a smile growing on his face "Was that just a hello?"

Jack, on the other hand, wasnt as easily convinced, "Eh... it was a very faint something."

"Can you tell us a name? or who you might be?"

After a few moments of silence, Tommy and Jack made up an impromptu rap for the ghosts, and despite a few other unintelligible noises, nothing else seemed to happen in the room. 

However, before leaving the room, you set up the REM pod on the bed just in case. 

"I just remembered something" Sam spoke up when the REM pod began to go off in response to Jack, "The witch only likes respect..."

"Oh, thats right!" Colby shouted, "That's why we got the offerings-" 

You whipped around, facing the tall raven-haired man behind you, eyebrows raised high, "I'm sorry... the what?"

"Yeah! The witch will only talk to people if she wants to. because like, if you're being disrespectful or too stupid she's like 'I don't wanna talk'"

You turned back, clicking your tongue and shrugging with fake sympathy as you faced Tommy. "You hear that?" you sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder, "Looks like we're gonna have to kick you out of this investigation."

Tommy sputtered looking around, "Wha- Why?" 

Jack stepped forward, knowing where you were going with this, "Yeah mate," he added shaking his head sorrowfully, "You may have to wait outside for this one."

 You and Jack looked at each other with a smirk, 

"Ya know," you continued, "to keep you from acting-"

"-too stupid"

"-Too stupid" 

Tommy looked at the both of you, mouth agape. "Common now, that was just mean."

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

For the first Estes method run of the night, Tommy volunteered to go under as you all investigated the first floor. The rest of you now stood huddled around him as he sat in the rocking chair with the headphones on. 

"Is there anybody here with us? you were just making the REM pod go off earlier"  

Get Down.

"Were we being disrespectful upstairs?"

Me and You. 

"Is anyone upstairs?"

I need you.

You furrowed your brows at that. Both Sam and Colby brought up the succubus, but neither directly asked the question, so you decided you would. 

"Like the succubus? O-or Incubus I guess? I dunno one of the demons?"

silence.

"You said you needed something? What do you need?" you asked again, but still received no response. 

You laughed a little to yourself, "Welp I guess it doesn't like me then." your eyes widened, "Actually, uh, ghosts, please do not confirm or deny that statement... I think I'd rather you be silent on that one, I don't really want to know." 

The rest of the group, except for Tommy obviously, laughed a little under their breath at your words before continuing the investigation. 

"Is there something evil here? something that's keeping you here?"

Going on. 

"Something evil going on"

"That makes sense" you agreed, "It's the most haunted place in England right?" you asked looking between the two, "It has to have had something evil going on at some point"

"Yeah" Colby nodded, "this place has had "Evil" for around 5,000 years." 

"We hear there's demons here, is that true?"

Earth Under.

"Like... buried?" you asked.

Jack nodded at your words, adding another question for the two boys, "Yeah, because a lot of shit was like, dug up here as well, right-"

Tunnel to the left.

"oh my god," you breathed out, "Isn't that where they dug up that grave?"

"Oh yeah!" Sam exclaimed running over into the next room, "this is where they found the tunnel that used to be a grave, which would've been-"

"-to my left."

The three of you scurried back into the room where Tommy and Colby stayed to continue talking to the ghosts.

"Are you talking about the tunnel in the other room? where did that lead to?"

no response. 

Just as you were about to ask a question, Tom yelped, quickly grabbing the headphones and ripping them off due to a low, loud, and deep voice suddenly coming through the speakers. 

next under, was Jack. 

"What's your purpose here ghost? What do you want?"

The child

You and Tommy both began freaking out at that while Sam and Colby stood to the side somewhat confused. 

"Everyone used to call me the child!" he yelled, a vice-like grip on your arm as he spoke to the other two and the camera, "Everyone would call me the child!"

"Woah... whats even weirder" Sam explained, "was the bones they found underneath here were a child's."

"Well, uh, that's good" your voice shook slightly, "that means it might not be referring to you then." 

"Do- do you mean tunnel child or- or Tom child?" 

no answer.

"ya know," you spoke nervously, "I kinda wanted to try, but now I'm not too sure." 

Yes. 

"oh no." you laughed, "I-uh, I didn't like that at all."

"Are you sure you do not want to try?" Sam asked, laughter in his tone, "I think they want you to"

Yes.

"Well..." you drawled, "I don't really uh, I don't really know... we seem to be getting a lot here without me doing that.."

"We are going back to the witch's room next to give her an offering" Colby mentioned, "you could do it there if you'd like. We didn't get much activity up there."

"True" you trailed off, thinking it over, "Yeah sure, I'll do it there."

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Not too long later, you were now sat in a different chair up in the witch's room, getting ready for the Estes method after giving the witch her new Minecraft creeper and scrub-daddy offerings. 

"Nah" you spoke, waving Tom over near you, "You sit right there and give me your hand" you demanded pointing to the floorboards to your side. 

"Why?"

"Because I know how you are. No way I'm letting you float around this room to scare me and tap on my shoulders and shit- sit down."

And with that, Tommy sat on the floor, hand folded in yours as you put the headphones on and pulled down the blindfold. 

"Is anyone here with us?" 

Nothing.

"Elspeth, are you here with us?"

You jumped in your chair, not quite ready to hear anything come through the headphones.

Yes.

"Have you found us disrespectful?"

One.

"One of us was disrespectful?"

"Probably fucking Tom." Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"AY! Why'd you say that!"

"Oh I don't know, you're the one that has been yelling at her!"

"Have not!" 

"you just were like two seconds-"

you squeezed Tom's hand, unknowingly cutting off Jack and Tommy's argument as you spoke,  "I don't know what it just said, but it sounded like laughing at the end."

Colby tilted his head, eyes furrowing, "laughing? why would she be laughing?"

'm not. 

"What do you mean you're not?" Tom pestered, "You just did so-"

Him. 

Toms's brow crinkled further, confusion settling into his expression.

"Him?" Sam asked, "Do you mean it's not Elspeth anymore?"

"Yeah, are we talking to someone else?" 

your head quirked to the side, confused at the noise coming through the headphones, "It's like a bell?" you spoke, "Yeah like I hear a bell ringing."

"Oh!" Sam yelled, "Like ding ding, that's right!"

"Maybe"

"Who are you then? who are we speaking to?"

Bad.

"You're bad? Or is something here bad?"

Evil. 

"What do you mean evil?"

The next. 

Colby turned to Sam, realization dancing in his eyes, "The bishop's room. Thats our next stop, known to be a center for the demon-"

You yelped, tearing off the headphones when loud, evil laughter flooded your ears. You squeezed Tom's hand, yanking his arm to get a semi-awkward positioned hug from the boy. 

"That sucked" you spoke, voice muffled by his sweatshirt. 

"What happened?" he asked you, eyes wide and gaze quickly moving to each of the older guys in the group, attempting to calm you the best he can while freaking out himself. 

"There was loud laughter." you explained, gesturing around our head, "it was like thousands of people all laughing all around my head."

Once again.... so very sorry for the shitty ending- I couldn't think of anything else to put...

[nikolaiismysugardaddy]

For scientific purposes // Tetchou Suehiro x reader | | | NSFW

pairings... Tetchou Suehiro x Reader

contains...! smut! fem!reader, alcohol, kissing, biting, edging, oral(fem!receiving), slightly dom!tetchou, dirty talk

AFAB reader

I apologize for any mistakes in advance - english is not my first language!

Hope you enjoy! xx

Note: it's pure fluff until the 3rd divider - so if you're underage but want to read it, it's fine until that point.

4,9k words

The night was colder than you expected it to be when you were getting ready for a night out with your friends. You were outside the bar waiting for them, with your hands wrapped around your chest, trying to warm yourself up a little bit. The street was pretty crowded, even though it was Thursday. You noticed people bustling about, their breath visible in the chilly air. The sound of laughter and music filled the night, creating a lively atmosphere.

“Aren’t you cold outside?” A voice from behind asked. Without even turning around, you shook your head, even though your legs were already shaking from the cold. You heard the door closing behind you, so you let out a relieved sigh from your mouth. This happened a lot before, when drunk guys tried to hit on you while you were waiting or smoking outside. You knew better than to engage with them, but it still made you uneasy every time. And yet you still felt the stranger’s eyes on your back, like small knives being stabbed into it. 

You hugged yourself tighter as a few minutes went by; maybe it was a bad idea to arrive this early. You glanced at your watch, realizing you still had a while before your friends were supposed to arrive. The door opened again, and a tall figure stepped out into the dimly lit street. Despite your best efforts, curiosity gnawed at you, tempting you to steal a glance, but you resisted the urge.

“Um, I don’t mean to bother you or anything, really, but it’s obvious that you’re not dressed for the weather, and I noticed you shivering earlier.” suddenly, something warm and soft was placed on your shoulder –a hoodie. Abruptly, you turned around just to face a muscular chest cloaked in a black windbreaker. The whole act took you by surprise, and it was written all over your face. The stranger chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You can return it later.” His voice was deep and warm, like spring air lingering all around you. Without catching a glimpse of his face, he turned around and reached for the doorknob. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond to this unexpected act of kindness. Curiosity sparked within you, and found yourself wanting to know more about this mysterious individual. 

“Hey, wait a minute!” You hastily grabbed the back of his shirt to stop him from leaving. In the very same moment, embarrassment rushed over you, and you felt your cheeks getting warmer. He turned back toward you and looked directly into your eyes. Your jaws almost dropped to the floor as you got the chance to see his face up close. The words you wanted to say the moment before just didn’t come out of your mouth as confidently as you wanted them to. “L-let me buy you a drink a-at least. As a thank you.” He just looked so dreamy, even in this dim light, that you couldn’t believe your eyes. 

He looked surprised for a moment, then burst out laughing in a way that made your heart skip a beat. 

“No, no, I gave you that without any interior motive.” His smile was soothing, like the full moon in the clear sky. It was bright, but there was something mysterious about it that made you want to know more about him. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person he was, with such a genuine and enigmatic smile.

“But—“ you started to say, but he interrupted you with a wave of his hand.

“Please, it just happened that I had a spare one with me. You can return it later or anything, but don’t feel any pressure.” He said with a voice as smooth as velvet, and scratched his neck in a casual, nonchalant manner. 

“Fine, I don’t want to pressure you either.” You looked down at his shoes, trying to hide your flushed cheeks. 

You heard the door clicking as he opened it, but before he stepped inside, he gently patted your shoulder. Your whole body was frozen with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. Your mind couldn’t process the whole thing that just happened. As the door closed behind him, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. Before you got the hoodie on, you grabbed it on your shoulder like your life depended on it, feeling the warmth and comfort it provided. It was so big, it almost reached your knees. All of a sudden, the fragrance crawled inside your nose: a mixture of sandalwood and vanilla. You looked around the street, but your friends were still nowhere to be found. 

I’ll be inside the bar, crackheads. Both of you owe me a drink when you arrive. You sent the message in the group chat, then rushed inside, maybe a little too fast. The place was more crowded than you expected, and it was a pretty hard task to find the mysterious guy in there. You scanned the faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of him amidst the sea of strangers. A quiet sigh left your mouth before you headed to the counter. You were wondering what to get for him as you stood in line, contemplating whether he preferred a beer or something else. Your inner instincts told you to grab a good whisky, and to be fair, you preferred it more too. As you finally reached the counter, you ordered two glasses of fine whisky, feeling confident in your choice. The amber liquid swirled in the glass, its rich aroma enticing your senses. Now all that was left was to find the mysterious guy and deliver his drink, hoping it would lead to the conversation you were seeking.  

You turned around with both drinks in your hands and heard a familiar voice not too far from where you stood. A childish smile spread across your face as you headed in that direction, but soon it vanished. He was sitting alone with a really pretty lady, engrossed in conversation. So he was really just trying to be nice, after all. Well, that’s my luck again, haha. 

He looked at you, but your gaze was fixated on the floor as you walked past them to search for a seat. 

“Can you wait for me a bit? I need to talk to… someone.” He said with glimmering eyes as he looked at you when you entered the bar. He couldn’t get you out of his mind since he saw you outside, standing alone.

“I think we talked it all out, so if you don’t mind, the boss is already waiting for me at the office, Tetchou. What about we call it a day then?” She asked with a warm smile on her face. She knew him for a long time and perfectly understood the look he gave you when you walked by - it was a look of longing and curiosity. To be fair, she hasn't seen him this excited in years. 

“Oh, yeah, perfect.” His thoughts weren’t there anymore; all he could think of was you. The glimmer in his eyes grew even brighter as he imagined the possibilities that lay ahead. “See you later.” He didn’t even take his gaze off of you; he followed your steps until you reached the corner of the bar with the last free seats. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to strike up a conversation with you, to hear your voice, and to get to know you better. The anticipation of seeing you again made his heart race with excitement, leaving him eager for the moment when he could finally approach you.   

“Go after her, goddamnit, Tetchou.” She stood up and pushed him in your direction with a determined look on her face. Tetchou hesitated for a moment, but her words resonated within him, giving him the courage he needed to finally make his move. Taking a deep breath, he mustered up all his confidence and began walking towards you, ready to take a chance on the unknown. It was obvious; he’s interested in you. 

Before he reached your table, he turned around to wave goodbye to his company with a huge, hopeful smile on his face.

You drank your whisky in one sip, then started to play with the other glass, drowning in your misery. Even though you were used to it already, it was still painful to realize that you'd seen things in normal, nice gestures from an attractive guy. You sighed, resigned to the fact that love and happiness always seemed just out of reach for you.

“Is that for me?” The confident question astonished you. He was standing there with a silly but very handsome smile on his face, pointing at the glass you were playing with. You couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope as you realized that maybe, just maybe, this attractive guy was interested in you. But… where’s the girl?

“Huh? Oh this?” you held the glass in your hand and turned it around, analyzing the liquor in it. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with curiosity as he waited for your response. “No.” you tilted your head slightly, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “No, you told me I don’t need to. Oh, also–. “ you reached out with his hoodie in your hand, nicely folded. “Thank you.” you avoided eye contact on purpose. The guy seemed taken aback, his eyes searching yours. His perfume lingered in your nose once again, this time more intensely. 

“You also need to walk home, right? Then you’ll need that. Keep it, it’s fine.” He leaned closer and pushed your hand back with the cloth in it, his index finger nearly touching yours. His gesture caught you off guard, causing your heart to skip a beat. You looked up at him, and the blood rushed to your cheeks. His tall figure towering over you gave you the right opportunity to get a good look at him: hehad a very well-built figure and softly tanned skin. His face was smooth, without any wrinkles or flaws, besides three small tattooed leaves under his left eye. His hair was tucked behind his ears, so his face was fully visible. The dark brown locks provided a nice contrast to his smooth, tanned skin. You looked back into his sparkling hazel eyes while you placed the cloth in your lap. 

“Um, you were right at first.” You held the whisky for him to take. “I wanted to say thank you once again when I came inside, but…” you fidgeted your fingers in your lap. “but I saw you had company, so I didn’t want to interrupt anything.” He somehow looked a bit confused and frowned a little before he took the glass out of your hand. He slightly touched your hand when he delicately wrapped his fingers around the glass; that was the moment you realized how huge and soft his hands are.

“Whisky? Nice choice.” he smelled it with closed eyes and hummed quietly in appreciation. As he took a sip, you couldn't help but admire the way his lips curved into a subtle smile, revealing a glimpse of his perfectly aligned teeth.  So kissable… You found yourself captivated by his every movement, from the way he savored the drink to the gentle way he set the glass back down on the table. It made you yearn for more than just a conversation over drinks. “Can I..?” he glanced at the empty seats in front of you.

“Huh?” you were shaken out of your thoughts. “S-sure, but what about your..?”

“My meeting? We finished.” he said easily as he sat down. “And you? Sitting alone on a Thursday night in a bar like this?” You couldn’t help but notice the genuine curiosity in his eyes as he asked the question. His interest in you made your heart flutter, and you found yourself drawn to his charismatic presence. He took a sip of the whisky, and you already regretted lending it to him. Obviously, you need that more now than ever. 

“To be fair, I’m waiting.” Yes, that’s right, you’re waiting for your friends - who are pretty late already. You started searching for your phone with that thought in your mind, hoping they had messaged you with an update. 

“Really?” he chuckled. “Patience is your virtue then.” He drank the remaining whisky to regain his composure and wash away his nervousness. He thought you were waiting for your date and it instantly made him feel disappointed. 

“Yeah, kinda, my friends love to test that.” Finally, you found your phone in your pockets. One new message: Don’t wait for us, urgent work came up. So-so-so sorry, Y/N. Tomorrow? “Oh great, they won’t even come.” you sighed out loud and dropped your stiff shoulders. “I think I should head home then..” 

“Let me invite you back!” He looked relieved and excited when he heard the word ‘friends’; and placed his palm on the table on your side. “Also, I’m Tetchou. Tetchou Suehiro.” You looked up to him, and his smile made it even worse and inescapable. Damn it, why do you have to look so good? You couldn't help but feel a flutter of attraction as you locked eyes with Tetchou. 

“Y/N, nice to meet you, I suppose now.” Your anxious giggle didn’t help either, as you tried to suppress the growing infatuation. In the blink of an eye he disappeared to the counter. 

I’m literally sitting with the hottest guy on earth, and you guys are not here?! you sent the message abruptly to your friends before Tetchou came back. 

“I brought the same Henessy.” He placed the glasses on the table with a charming smile on his face. The drinks looked awfully small in his hands. 

You hummed a thanks under your nose and held up your drink; you misplaced it on the way to your mouth, and a huge amount landed on yourself. “Goddamnit.” you looked down on your bare chest, watching the Henessy drops rolling down on your skin. Tetchou burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 

"Looks like you could use some practice with that drink," he teased, handing you a napkin to clean up the mess. As you wiped away the spilled liquid, you couldn't help but feel a rush of embarrassment. He found your clumsiness pretty adorable and somehow sexy. You couldn’t help but blush at Tetchou’s teasing. “What were you thinking about?” he tried to hide his giggles with his hand covering his mouth, but those sparkling hazel eyes betrayed him. “Do you really wanna know?” The way he acted provoked your flirty behavior, and the alcohol in your veins didn’t help the situation either. But why would you hold yourself back? He nodded with a curious look in his eyes. “Well…” you looked around like you were going to say a really shameful thing. “I was actually thinking about how soft your hands are and how much I’d love to see you try to clean up a spill with that charm of yours.” you whispered seductively and looked down on his long, slender fingers with a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Ah, no, you’re wrong. They aren’t.” The twinkle in his eyes grew even brighter as he leaned in and sneakily reached out to grab yours. His touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. “See?” He drew small circles in your palm with his fingertips, then closed his grip around your hand. Slowly, you looked up at his face and carefully observed every little detail of his veiny hand. 

You looked around carefully and noticed that the bar was getting emptier, which gave you a lot more confidence to be flirtatious. You decided to play along and let your gaze linger on his hand, tracing the intricate patterns of his veins with your eyes. The dim lighting in the bar added an air of mystery, making you feel bolder as you leaned in closer to him. 

“Tetchou, can you…” you nodded in the direction of the free space next to you. “Come a little bit closer for a moment?” He raised his eyebrows suspiciously, and stood up to sit beside you without ever letting go of your hand. He held it like a treasure he had just found. You leaned close to his ears and tugged his hair out of the way. “I’ve read an article that stated: if someone’s hand is rough, their lips surely are delightful. Is it true?” You whispered softly, feeling a rush of nervous excitement.

He turned his head slowly, just inches away from your smirking lips, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He looked down and back up into your eyes, staring into them, his rough hand still tightly intertwined with yours. 

“Could be. Do you…” he leaned a bit closer, his breath ghosting on your lips, almost brushing them together as he spoke. You could feel the anticipation building between you. “Wanna test it?” Your heart raced as his words hung in the air, sending shivers down your spine. The intensity of the moment was palpable. 

“For scientific purposes.” You whispered with a mischievous smile on your lips as you closed the remaining distance between you. The mixture of the whisky and his saliva tasted sweet and smokey on your tongue. His mouth moved slowly, enjoying every moment of the kiss and tasting you like fine wine. His free hand instinctively found its way to your face, his thumb gently brushing your cheeks. The warmth of his touch sent a wave of electricity through your body, intensifying the connection between you. 

Thanks to the separated panels of the bar, it felt like you were the only ones in the room. The soft glow of the dimly lit room added to the intimate atmosphere, creating a bubble of privacy around the two of you. 

His thumb gently tapped the corner of your mouth, like he was asking for permission, before he slipped his tongue inside. The taste of his lips and the rhythm of his movements ignited a passionate fire within you, making it hard to resist him. He discovered every inch and followed the line of your gums, exploring the depths of your mouth with curiosity and desire, before both of your tongues entwined together. With each shared breath and lingering touch, the connection between you deepened, leaving you both craving more.

“So… the article was true?” he asked, with his lips lingering on yours. You could feel the hint of a smirk on his face as he spoke, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. It was clear that he had been intrigued by the article, and now, experiencing it firsthand, he wanted to confirm its validity. As you looked into his eyes, you couldn't help but smile and nod.

“What do you think about continuing this conversation somewhere more private?” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. The anticipation in his eyes mirrored your own desire.

“Lead the way.” 

You grabbed him by the hand and walked all the way to your home. It would have been a short, fifteen minutes walk if you didn’t stop at every corner to steal kisses from each other between conversations. The chemistry between you two was undeniable, and every stolen kiss only intensified the longing you both felt. As you finally reached your home, the anticipation grew even stronger, knowing that this conversation would continue in a more intimate setting. 

When the door finally closed behind you, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. After you stepped out of your shoes, you turned to face him, but he had already taken a step forward and backed you up against the wall. His hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer as his lips hovered over yours.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his breath lingering on your skin. Your heart raced with desire as you met his intense gaze. With a slight nod and a longing in your eyes, you whispered back:

“I’ve never been more sure.”

Tetchou immediately kissed you and pushed you firmly against the wall. His hands slipped under your shirt, exploring your body with his tough hands. You grabbed his upper arm to steady yourself a bit, and that’s when you realized how well-built he is. He lifted you up like you weighed nothing while kissing your neck hungrily. 

“Your workout now surely paid off, huh?” you asked teasingly while you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Lead me to your bedroom.” his voice was low and husky as he whispered. He wanted to touch you, to eat you up alive, and your teasing didn’t help the situation, not a single bit. You could feel the intensity of his desire as he carried you towards the bedroom, his muscles flexing with each step.

“First room on the right.” He carried you all the way to your bed and carefully laid you down on it, his body hovering over yours. Tetchou was absolutely hypnotized by you and your body under him. As his lips trailed down your neck, leaving fiery kisses all over your skin, you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. He couldn’t resist the urge to explore every inch of your body, his hands tracing a path of desire along your curves. The whimpering sounds you made were like the most beautiful melody in his ears. 

You tugged at the bottom of his shirt; he helped you and lifted it over his head for you to get a good sight of his bare, well-shaped chest. His muscles were clearly visible, even in the infiltrating moonlight. The way he looked down at your face made you feel uneasy in your pants. For a moment, he stopped, admiring the sight in front of him. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered,

“Is it still okay?” he asked while his fingers traced patterns into your inner thighs. 

You slipped your fingers through his messy hair and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. “Go on.” you whispered to his lips in a lustful tone. His fingers moved closer and closer to your crotch. He groaned into your mouth when he finally touched your needy cunt through your panties. You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back your moans. 

Tetchou made his way down to your chest with his lips, gently sucking and nibbling on your soft skin. He moved lower until he reached your hips, while his fingers were still swirling around your hole with the already wet fabric caging it. You could feel the heat building between your legs, urging him to remove the barrier and satisfy the ache that had been growing. “Please!” you moaned and lifted your hips up in pleasure. Tetchou looked up at you, seeming pleased with himself, then pulled your panties down painfully slowly. As he discarded the damp fabric, his eyes locked with yours, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own desire. He groaned into your mouth when he finally touched your needy cunt. You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back your moans. 

“Good girl” he hummed, and slipped one lithe finger inside your cunt. You’ve seen stars from the relieving feeling as he swirled around your soft walls. Soon another finger accompanied the first one, while his lips lingered on your wet folds. As his finger slid deeper, a wave of pleasure washed over you, causing your hips to involuntarily buck against his hand. The sensation intensified as he skillfully curled his finger, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for more.  “Do you want me to eat you out like you’ve never been before?” he asked, moving your skirt away to look you in the eyes. Your breath hitched at his question, your desire evident in your gaze. The anticipation of his skilled tongue on your most sensitive area sent shivers down your spine.

“Please…” you moaned and grabbed him by his hair, holding him closer to your aching clit. His lips curled into a mischievous smile as he obliged.

“What a lewd sight.” he glared at your face, and without breaking eye contact, licked your clit slightly. He savored your sweet taste for a mere moment before he needily started lapping at your cunt, his tongue eagerly exploring every inch of your throbbing core. You whined out when his tongue and fingers started moving in sync, your arousal growing more and more intense. Each flick and stroke intensified the sensations coursing through your pulsating core, pushing you closer to the edge of release.

Tetchous fingers pumped in and out of your pussy, hitting your sweet spot perfectly with each movement. Your moans became louder, filling the room with the symphony of your pleasure. Suddenly he slipped his tongue inside along with his fingers, sucking on your bud hungrily. Every flick of his tongue and gentle suckle made you lose yourself in a whirlwind of ecstasy, driving you to the brink of madness.Your body arched and writhed in response to his expert touch.

Before you could reach your climax, he pulled out his digits of your cunt. A grievous whine escaped your mouth and lifted yourself up a bit. But before you could complain about it, he leaned over you and slipped his slender fingers in your mouth, gently rubbing them against your palate, making you taste your own juices. You sucked on them, begging him with your eyes to continue. With a lustful smile, he withdrew his fingers from your mouth and trailed them down your body, teasingly grazing over sensitive areas.

With one determined movement, you switched positions with him. You lowered yourself down to his throbbing cock, licking it through the fabric. Your tongue danced along the contours, tracing every inch of his hardness, as he moaned in pleasure. You grabbed the waistband of his boxers and with one swift movement, you pulled it off of him. Your eyes widened at the size of him. 

“Oh my-” you gasped and positioned yourself above him. He grabbed your thighs harshly, his fingers digging into your flesh. 

You rubbed the tip of his cock against your wet entrance before you lowered yourself to take him in slowly, inch by inch. As you sank down onto him, a wave of intense pleasure washed over you. The feeling of fullness, combined with the friction, sent shivers down your spine. His hands tightened on your thighs, urging you to take him in fully. His deep groans filled the room.  

“F-fuck baby, you’re so tight-” he arched his back, and thrusted up into you at a slow pace. He tried to hold himself back, but it was no use. You steadied yourself with your palms on his chest, riding him slowly, with thighs pressed against his sides. The slapping of both of your skins echoed with your loud moans in the room. All Tetchou could think of was how good you felt wrapped around him and how badly he wanted to make you feel good. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you in sync with his own thrusts. 

“More!” you whined as you bounced up and down on his thick cock. Tetchou forcefully lifted you up from his member, and with one harsh movement, he folded you under himself. You gasped from the sudden switch in positions, but before you could complain about it, he thrusted in you with a vigorous pace. “T-tetchou!” 

As your moans became louder, Tetchou’s desire to please you intensified. He totally shifted his focus to your pleasure, with his hands worshiping your body and his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. His movements became more intense, hitting all the right spots that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The intensity of his thrusts matched the fervor of his kisses, creating a symphony of pleasure that left you breathless.

“Say my name again!” he commanded, biting into your lower lips as he fastened his pace. You gasped again and tangled your hands in his messy locks. Your legs wrapped around his frame, pulling him in deeper as he continued to fuck your cunt at an ungodly pace.

“Tetchou!” you clenched around him as his name left your lips. His cock twitched inside, filling up every inch of your hole. You bucked your hips up in his direction as you started to reach your climax, and oh, how much he liked that. With one finger, he added pressure to your aching clit which made your whole body shiver from pleasure. The cries of his name filled the room completely, mixing with his loud moans. 

“Cum together with me” he whispered in a husky tone. He buried himself once again deep inside you before your walls clamped down on his cock with so much force. You reached your high together, the mixture of your juices dripping out of your pulsing pussy. After a few moments, he stilled his movements, gently lowering himself on top of you. “This was incredible.” you whispered while playing with his messed up hair. 

“You are incredible.” Tetchou looked up at your face, his eyes filled with adoration, before he planted a kiss on your forehead. 

The cute dividers are from @cafekitsune ♡

Special tag: @iovetecchou 👀♡

[little-pondhead]

Fenton Family on Vacation (part 1)

Original Post⬅️

"You know, when you revealed yourself as Phantom, I thought it would be much harder to adjust." Madeline Fenton, ghost-hunting extraordinaire and mother of two, stared at the swirling green portal in her basement. Despite building the darn thing herself, with its glowing wires and simple design, Maddie felt like she was seeing the whole thing for the first time.

It was late afternoon on a Saturday. At least, Maddie assumed so. She hadn't stepped foot outside their lab for a while now. Too busy modifying all their ghost-hunting equipment. The blinking red numbers of the digital clock on their desk said it was almost six in the evening. Then again, it has been six in the evening for the past several months. The clock was very much broken, and no one had bothered to fix it. 

It was summer, so the time spent in the Fenton lab drastically increased. And with the reveal of their son Danny, Maddie practically breathed ectoplasm with the amount of time she was spending in the basement. Danny said it was no big deal, but both Fenton parents were determined to re-evaluate their research and inventions completely. Basically, starting from scratch. 

So imagine her surprise when, two days ago, both Jazz and Danny sat them down to propose a memorable family vacation. 

And for some reason, she couldn't say no. Was it her guilt? They were prepared to shell out the money for any dream destination the kids proposed. But no, Danny had invited them to a different dimension via the Ghost Zone. This was tremendous progress, not just in her relationship with her kids but also for their new research. (Let's not mention the headache she got from learning parallel dimensions exist.)

Apparently, the kids had been planning this for a while because now everyone was packed and armed to the teeth, two days later. Jazz had taken care of the logistics-when to leave, how to get there, what to bring. Danny was the one to choose the location since he was the most familiar with the Ghost Zone. Maddie learned much later that he had just thrown a dart at a lineup of names on a corkboard.  

"Are you sure it's okay for us to enter?" Maddie looked concerned.

"Yeah! It'll be fun, mom!" Danny reassured. "It's just a week off-I've always wanted to show you the cool parts of the Ghost Zone without the immediate threat of horrible death." Maddie gave her son the stink eye. He was grinning a bit too innocently for her liking.

"Well, I think it'll be a great bonding experience!" Jack announced, winking at Danny. Badly. "Someone was being a little paranoid about the mall trip yesterday; I hardly got a chance to spoil our new little princess."

Ah, yes, their new granddaughter. Danielle. Maddie had been furious to discover how horrible Vlad had been to her family. Attempting to murder her husband, trying to recruit Danny as a weird evil son/apprentice, outright disrespecting and dismissing Jazz's existence, and wanting to marry her?? "Furious" was putting it lightly. The man slept with a doll version of herself, for heaven's sake! And then Danny just offendedly mentions that Vlad had cloned him. Several times. Only one clone survived; a little girl with no identity of her own. And here was her son sheepishly asking if they might consider letting the clone stay? Even for a little? She was traveling around right now but didn't really have a place to call home-

Maddie and Jack immediately offered to adopt the girl into the family as their youngest. 

(Jazz giggled. "Danny already beat you to it. They tried being cousins at first, but he acts like a total dad around her—the fastest case of ghost adoption that I've ever seen. Instead of a new child, Elle's more like a new grandchild.")

Danny blushed, hunching his shoulders in. "I don't know if Elle wants to be a grandkid-we haven't talked about it, really."

"YOU CAN BET YOUR SWEET BISCUITS I WANNA BE A GRANDKID."

The trio startled and turned, watching the last two of the Fenton family work their way down the stairs into the lab. Jazz was gripping her backpack in one hand and Elle's arm in the other, using her superhuman strength to keep Elle in line. Probably so Elle wouldn't run down the stairs and permanently kill herself. Jack quietly chuckled at the sight of Elle's ghost-themed backpack, so painstakingly picked out the day before. It was a tad too big and looked just adorable on her. A few tiny blob ghosts floating around her head whizzed in excitement, sometimes using the backpack as a place to hide. Maddie, personally, loved the pink light-up sneakers that Elle showed off as much as possible. Her husband had done well shopping by himself. 

It was evident Elle was excited about the trip. Despite all her travels abroad, satisfying her wanderlust, she'd never been to another dimension. When they had reached the bottom, Elle phased out of Jazz's grip, bolting to collide with Jack in a hug. "Yesterday was loads of fun." She exclaimed. "I loved shopping around for new stuff. And if being Danny's kid means I get two new grandparents in the deal, then I'm taking it."

Danny made a face. "But isn't it weird to have a dad so close in age to you? What if people look at you weird?"

Jazz snorted at her brother's words, picking her way around the lab mess. "Danny, you'd be the one they would look at funny. A fifteen-year-old-"

"I'm almost sixteen!"

"A fifteen-year-old who has a physically thirteen-year-old daughter? People will be ready to call CPS."

"And besides!" Elle detangled herself from Jack's grip and stomped over to Maddie with a shit-eating grin as she looked at her dad. "Technically, I'm only a year old. You're not going to leave your poor, unstable clone daughter alone in the world to fend for herself, right?" Danny just grumbled. Something about not even being old enough to drive. 

Maddie cooed a bit and enjoyed the hug from her new granddaughter. It was cold but in a good way. Elle's response was a low hum that vibrated through her body. It reminded Maddie of a cat's purr.

"I've been meaning to ask," Maddie said. Elle clung tighter as she adjusted her grip. "What is ghost adoption?? You mentioned that before when explaining your relationship with Elle."

Their son shuffled his feet a little. "Uh, it basically means my core has connected to hers in a parental way, I guess." He was obviously nervous. "When we first met, even before I knew Elle was a clone, my core recognized her as a "baby ghost," so to speak. There was enough of a connection that I kind of adopted her subconsciously."

"But it doesn't happen with between all ghosts." Jazz cut in. It felt like their eldest was giving them a lecture on this and that every week. "Frostbite explained it a while ago, something about similar cores and ambient ectoplasm. Kind of like pack bonding?"

Maddie nodded, barely following. "And Frostbite...you said we were visiting this person?"

Danny perked up, actually floating a few feet off the ground in excitement. "Frostbite is the best! He's the leader of the Far Frozen and looks like a giant yeti. He helped me figure a bunch of things out and makes the best cocoa."

"Well, I'm excited to meet him."

And they were. Going through the portal was an experience and a half. It wasn't the first time they'd done this, but it was still memorable. Danny and Elle had gone ghost and chased each other around the Specter Speeder while Jazz piloted, hunched over the steering wheel. The Ghost Zone was a wonderful mix of greens and purples; Jack lamented his lack of a camera.

("We don't want to give Technus something to use." Tucker explained. Danny's friends had come by to help them all pack properly. "The Fenton Cameras haven't been ghost-proofed all the way, and Technus is an insufferable b-uh, idiot when he manages to get his hands on new tech. I'll never hear the end of it.")

It was just so much colder than they expected. The "Far Frozen" certainly lived up to its name. So did Frostbite and his legendary cocoa. The giant yeti (did he count as a ghost??) also took the opportunity to give each Fenton a checkup (ghosts have doctors???) to make sure everyone was healthy enough for inter-dimensional travel. They were, and Frostbite even handed over a few extra vials of pure ectoplasm to tide the kids over in case they didn't land near a natural source in the new dimension. Jack and Maddie took a few vials each, one for each of their ghost kids, and Jazz just tucked hers away in her luggage with a little pat.

Then they were off sightseeing. Understandably, most of Danny's allies were a bit wary around the (mostly former) ghost hunters but did their best to hide it. Jack and Maddie got to meet Princess Dorathea, who could turn into a freaking dragon how cool was that, Jack-

There was Pandora, a towering woman with blue skin and four arms. She took a liking to Maddie and gifted her an engraved xiphos. "To match her fighting spirit." The woman explained. She did not tell anyone what the engraving meant. At some point, they saw a towering castle in the distance. It was hard to see, but the towers looked like spiraling ice. Jack asked about it.

"Oh, that's nothing special." Danny waved them off. "Don't worry about it. We DO need to worry about Walker's prison, so duck down for a bit. He doesn't like it when the living are in his territory." Maddie didn't bother pushing the subject, so they moved on.

Then there was Wulf, a werewolf who could make portals and was the kids' teacher on that subject. Jazz was especially excited, greeting Wulf with a bear hug. (Maddie vaguely remembered something about her daughter being a werewolf now, but she very rarely changed while in the living world. Maddie had almost forgotten.) Jack was pleasantly surprised to learn Wulf spoke Esperanto. In fact, that was the only thing he could speak. It turns out Esperanto was something Jack had learned during their college days. The two hit it off, and Jack had to be dragged away from whatever conversation they were having.

Time moved a bit sluggishly, but eventually, they got around to "the least annoying ones." Elle had a blast messing with someone named Fright Knight, who just kept calling her 'my lady' for some reason. Danny got a few potshots in when one of his rouges (was that a robot?) got too close to the Speeder. They met Ghost Writer, Amorpho, Lunch Lady, Nocturne, Technus, Ember, Cujo, and a few others. Their final stop was Clockwork's.

The flight there was exceptionally long. It felt like forever, yet the clock in the Speeder only moved forward five minutes. Jazz explained that this was Clockwork's influence. He was the Master of Time, and the closer they got to his lair, the weirder time was. Eventually, the Fenton family arrived. Clockwork's lair was, well, a clock tower.

("Really, I don't know what we expected, Maddie.")

It was dark and green, sitting on a tiny island they could barely land on. Ectoplasm was thick in the air; Maddie was sure that if she weren't already ecto-contaminated, it would have been increasingly difficult to breathe. Multiple ticking sounds filled the air as if the tower was filled with nothing but clocks. Maddie took a wild guess and thought it probably was. A glowing green sticky note drew their attention as they approached the door.

Danny scowled as he read the note. "Daniel, something has come up with the Observants. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't make the Watchtower your new haunt. A natural portal will open next to the Speeder. Enjoy your vacation, Clockwork. Drat, I was hoping he'd be home. I really wanted you to meet him."

Maddie pats his shoulder. "It's okay. I'm sure we'll find time later." Elle giggled at the pun.

"I know." He sighed. "It's just, he can be so cryptic. Why would I make a watchtower my new haunt? I've never even been to a real watchtower! But the note says a natural portal will spawn next to the Speeder so that we can wait for that."

"You mean this portal?"

Jazz was closely examining a small tear in reality that had popped into existence next to her foot. It was small and low to the ground. Small enough that the Specter Speeder definitely couldn't get through. Maddie doubted they'd be going in all at once.

Elle peered over her shoulder. "That's it! Come on, old man, I'll race you!" She dove in without waiting for a reply.

"DANIELLE MADELINE FENTON!" Danny immediately chased after, disappearing into a swirl of green.

"Oh yeah, she's definitely related." Jazz said. "Come on. I'll follow behind once you two go through." Maddie looked at Jack, and Jack looked at Maddie. Fine with them.

Jack went first, knuckles tight from gripping his bag straps, doing his best to suck in his gut before dropping out of existence. Maddie went next, standing on tiptoes and still having Jazz bend down to press a kiss to her cheek before she left. "Make sure to lock up the Speeder."

Jazz smiled, her eyes glowing with the barest hint of green. She had a hand on the Fenton thermos clipped to her belt and if Maddie squinted, she could see the barest outline of a crown on her head. "See you on the other side, mom."

Maddie stepped into the portal, feeling nothing but open air, and fell through.

---

Edit: OH GOD I FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT DETAIL ABOUT JAZZ I FIXED IT I AM SO SORRY

(the fix was kind of rushed but there is an extra line or two now that actually mentions it)

[oceans-goddess]

Tyler Galpin x Reader Series Pt. 1-- The Weathervane

A/N: I hope to have part 2 up soon! We will see how my homework treats me, haha

Summary: y/n is a Nevermore student who has the power to grow plants, but hasn’t fully harnessed them yet, making for quite the interesting first encounter with Tyler Galpin at the Weathervane.

______________________________________________________________

You usually kept to yourself at Nevermore, spending most of your time in your room or in the greenhouse with your beloved plants. You’d been sent to Nevermore because, despite all of your parents’ attempts to control your abilities, they’d spun wildly out of control, leaving a massive tree growing through your house. But it had been months since you started at Nevermore, and your teachers were slightly concerned about your lack of socialization.

“Why not spend some time in Jericho? You could get some fresh air!” They’d suggested, and though you didn’t really have a reason to be in town where you knew everyone would stare at you and call you a freak in huddled whispers, you liked walks, so you decided to try it out.

It took a while to get your bearings, having only driven through the town a few times, but you soon found a cute coffee shop called the Weathervane. In sharp contrast from the chilly winter air of Vermont, the cozy coffee shop was warm and welcoming. The croissants and other pastries on the counter smelled incredible. There was nobody in line, so you stepped up to the counter. 

Behind one of the coffee machines was a boy your age in a Weathervane uniform and an apron. He was quite cute, you noticed, with his brown hair curled above his ears and over his forehead, and his pink lips pressed together in concentration. You followed his gaze to see that he was working on a detailed bit of latte art-- a swan. It was intriguing to watch him, to watch his piece of work come together. But suddenly, it was ruined, one of the swan wings mixing into the coffee below and disappearing. The barista huffed in frustration, setting the cup down and looking up, only to yelp in surprise at your presence.

“I am- I’m so so sorry to have kept you waiting,” he spluttered, and you blushed at his sudden attention, feeling as though you had been caught in the act of staring at the beautiful boy in front of you. You didn’t notice the small daisy begin to blossom between your fingers on the counter when you introduced yourself shyly.

“No, it’s no problem! I was just watching you, um, make that swan. It was beautiful. I, um, I’m y/n”

He smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck before replying: “Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Tyler. What can I get for you today?” You blushed when you realized that the entire time you’d been standing there, you hadn’t even thought to read the menu. Buttercups sprung up in your hair, and Tyler’s eyes grew wide at the sight of them, but you took his expression as impatience and said, “I’ll just have a hot chocolate and a croissant.”

He rang you up and began making your hot chocolate straight away, and you moved down the counter to wait at the pick-up sign. It wasn’t hard to begin staring again, noticing the way the lights above Tyler’s head glinted in his hair, the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones when he looked down, the way one side of his mouth naturally quirked up into a half-smile, the way he-

“Here you go,” he said, and you were shaken out of your daydreams, ferns unfurling at your feet. You grabbed your order quickly and said thank you with an awkward smile before he asked, “Are you a Nevermore student?”

Seriously? Not even five minutes into talking with Tyler, and he’d already come to the conclusion that you were a freak, just as everyone else had. The ferns were as tall as your knee now, but you were too embarrassed to notice.

“Uh, yeah, I am. It’s that obvious?” you asked, refusing to look at anything other than your cup of cocoa. He chuckled, but answered in plain upon seeing your eyes widen in concern.

“Well, uh, you’ve kinda got...” he pointed to his head, “flowers, y’know, growing out of your hair.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth in horror, but he only chuckled again.

“Don’t worry, it’s cool. Very pretty, actually,” he reassured, but you couldn’t help internally cringing at your inability to control your power.

“Thanks,” you said anyway, and looked down at your shoes in dismay, only to realize ferns as tall as the countertop brushing against your skirt.

“Um, I’m sorry-- thank you-- I have to go now,” you said, spinning on your heels and hurrying away from the mess you’d just caused. You were sure it would only make things worse if you tried to help clean it up.

Little did you know, you’d left Tyler Galpin staring at your receding figure in wonder, and he was surprisingly delighted to find your ferns across the counter soon after your departure.

_______________________________________________________________________

Link to Pt. 2

[workofthediesel]

The End of the Line

Read also on AO3!

Summary: CB's been acting… off ever since he was called into Control's office. CB's also been doing his best to hide it, but nothing slips by Rusty where CB is concerned. Rusty's determined to get to the bottom of it, but once he does, can he fix it?

Word Count: 23,313

“Red Caboose to the Assets and Operations Office," Control's voice called over the loudspeaker. "Red Caboose to the Assets and Operations Office."

The freight line Rusty was pulling screeched to an abrupt and unpleasant stop as CB laid on the brakes. No one had been prepared to be pulled up so jarringly short and the cars were sent stumbling into each other before crashing to the ground in a disgruntled heap. A chorus of grumbles rose up from the pile as the freight tried to disentangle themselves, throwing a few glares CB's way as they did.

Rusty took a glance back at CB as well. He was the only one who'd managed to stay on his feet, no doubt because he'd let go of Dustin's couplers before the moment of disaster. Despite his irritation at the bad stop, Rusty couldn't help but be a little relieved that CB had avoided being caught up in the worst of it—CB was a good bit more fragile than the rest of the freight, and Rusty could easily imagine how hurt he would have gotten if he'd ended up on the bottom of the pile. 

The rest of the freight didn't seem to share his concerns. "What was that for?" Flat-Top griped, wriggling his way out from under Rocky Three.

“Yeah,” Rocky Two chimed in as he tugged his leg out from under his brother, “at least warn us if you’re going to stop short.”

CB was uncharacteristically quiet. It was mildly disconcerting, though it seemed like everyone was too annoyed to see it like that. 

“Hmph. Real nice apology,” Rocky Three said, trying to buff the scratches he’d received off of his arm. “Really feeling the love here. Thanks.”

Still, CB said nothing. No one had actually been expecting an apology from him, but the total lack of any response was strange, and as more and more seconds ticked by, the oddity of it was getting harder to ignore.

“What, nothing to say for yourself?” Rocky One snorted. “Real mature.”

On any other occasion, that sort of jab would be sure to get a rise out of CB, but now there was nothing. He just stood, still as a statue looking up at the speaker, like he didn’t even hear them.

Flat-Top scowled. “Hey! We’re talking to you!”

CB didn’t even flinch. 

Rusty couldn’t help but frown at that. “CB?” he prompted after another few seconds of silence.

Still no reaction from CB. Rusty’s frown grew deeper—CB never ignored him. 

Determined to get to the bottom of it, Rusty pushed himself back up onto his feet and rolled over to CB. His approach wasn’t subtle, nor was he trying to be, but with his focus still solely on the speaker, CB didn’t notice.

The gentle hand that Rusty laid on his arm was what finally got CB’s attention. The caboose started, eyes snapping down to meet Rusty’s as Rusty asked, “CB, what’s this about?”

For a moment, CB’s eyes were wide and unsettled. He quickly schooled his features into a blank mask. Too late—Rusty had already seen what he was really feeling, and perhaps because he knew to be listening, he caught the note of fear in CB’s voice. “I don’t—” 

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Apparently, nothing was happening fast enough for Control’s liking, and the speaker crackled back to life. “Red Caboose to the Asset and Operations Office,” Control called again, emphasizing his words to showcase his irritation.

“Ooh, CB’s in trouble,” one of the Rockies taunted quietly under his breath.

The glare CB sent his way was cold enough to have frozen a lesser car in their tracks, but the Rockies, used to things like this by now, simply brushed it off, tittering amongst themselves at the thought of CB being told off.

An uncomfortable twisting started up in Rusty’s stomach. He hated the thought of CB being in trouble. He spent a good amount of time trying to prevent just that. Of course, he wasn’t successful one hundred percent of the time, and despite their relationship, Rusty was a large proponent of CB actually facing the consequences of his actions. It was only right, after all.

That didn’t mean he liked it, though.

Still, it was a bit odd. CB didn't usually try to hide when he’d done something wrong anymore. If he were expecting some form of punishment to come his way, he’d at least give Rusty a heads-up. To have heard nothing about it before the consequences came crashing down was far enough out of the ordinary that it pushed Rusty more towards giving CB the benefit of the doubt.

“No one’s in trouble,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster. “Right, CB?”

CB shook his head. “I didn’t do anything,” he said quietly.

Rocky Two scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t,” CB insisted, growing firmer. 

“Then why are you in trouble?”

“We don’t know he’s in trouble,” Dustin said.

“Oh, please,” Flat-Top countered. “When was the last time you heard Control looking for him for anything else?”

The answer to that one was silence. Although, Rusty thought, it wasn’t really a fair question. Control didn’t normally call for any of the freight. He was relatively hands-off in the yard, especially where individual cars were concerned. While he might occasionally have a demand for a particular engine or for the yard as a whole, he mostly left the management of any singular car up to their yard’s head. That meant that, since Rusty was taking over from Poppa as the head of the freight yard, he was responsible for handling the majority of any work-related discussions with CB. If Control needed to say anything about his job performance, he usually passed it along through Rusty. 

With that in mind, it made sense that, more often than not, if Control was calling someone into the office, it wasn’t for anything good. And, as one of the yard’s more troublesome cars, CB saw more than his fair share of chastisement from the boss. But just because it wasn’t common for Control to want to speak with CB for non-disciplinary reasons didn’t mean it never happened. CB was highly specialized in his radio work, something that Rusty knew next to nothing about. If Control needed to talk about anything regarding the yard’s communications systems, he would go straight to CB about it. 

It was likely that’s all this was, Rusty told himself, although he couldn’t quite get himself to fully believe it. After all, there was no reason for CB to be scared about Control checking in on his radios, and no matter how cool he was playing it now, Rusty had seen the fear in his eyes when he first got called for.

He didn’t have time to question it, because the speaker was ringing out again. “Red Caboose to the Assets and Operations Office!”

CB winced, not that Rusty could blame him. It was never a good idea to make Control mad, and he was starting to sound like he was running out of patience. Rusty got the feeling that, if CB wasn’t in trouble already, he was going to be soon if he didn’t start making his way to the office. 

“Go ahead,” Rusty told him. “You don’t want to keep Control waiting much longer.”

“Are you sure?” CB asked. There was something desperate in his voice, like he wanted Rusty to give him an excuse, like he wanted to be told that he couldn’t be spared, that Control could wait because CB needed to stay on the line.

As much as Rusty would have liked to give him that comfort, he couldn't. Control was the boss; if he wanted CB in the office badly enough to call him in in the middle of the workday, then no amount of work CB had to do would be taken as a justifiable reason for him not going.

Rusty gave CB the most reassuring smile he could manage. “It’s fine.”

Hesitantly, CB took a step back. “Okay. I’ll be back whenever Control’s done with me, I guess.”

“I’ll be around if you need to be put on a line.”

CB hung around for a moment more, but he couldn’t find another excuse to keep stalling. Dragging his feet, he slowly rolled off in the direction of Control’s office.

“Wonder what he did this time,” Rocky Two said to no one in particular.

A part of Rusty wanted to snap at him that CB hadn’t done anything, that Control was only calling him in to talk about upgrading his radio systems or loaning him out to another yard for a bit, but was that really the case? As much as he wanted to believe that, Rusty himself had his doubts. CB was known to get himself into trouble with alarming frequency. It seemed to just be a part of his personality—his penchant for mischief and inability to actually conceptualize any consequences had given Rusty more heart attacks than he could count.

Still, he didn’t entirely believe that CB had done something bad, either. He knew that CB knew how much he worried, and ever since they’d gotten together, CB had been making a commendable effort at keeping out of trouble. Not to mention, if CB had done something, surely someone in the yard would have known about it. Even if CB didn’t tell Rusty about it himself, word would have gotten back to him from somewhere to brace for the consequences. 

Regardless, Rusty didn’t like this sort of speculation. “Back to work,” he said firmly, taking off again.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Rusty kept waiting for CB to come back, but he never did. In the first hour, it was easy enough to explain: Control had called CB in for a meeting, after all—they probably just had a lot to talk about. The second hour was still believable enough, assuming the meeting had just run long. It was in the hours after that, when CB still hadn’t returned, that Rusty really started getting nervous.

He couldn’t think of a single thing Control would need to talk to CB about that would take this long. Control leaned towards brevity; if it were just a regular sort of work-related meeting, CB should have been in and out.

On the other hand, if CB were in enough trouble that he was going to be taken off the track, Control would have told Rusty. As the head of the freight yard, Control was supposed to notify him of anything going on that would interrupt their day’s operations. With that in mind, Rusty tried to reassure himself that whatever was going on couldn’t be that bad.

But now that he thought about it, CB had been acting a little cagey the past few days. He couldn’t quite put a finger on when it had started, but he seemed to be almost always a little on edge, carrying around a nervous energy he couldn’t quite work out. Rusty hadn’t brought it up to him before because, realistically, the oddities were small. The only reason Rusty noticed them was because of how close they were. He couldn’t imagine that anyone else had picked up on it, and if the problem was small enough that CB was able to keep it that complete of a secret, then it was also small enough that he wouldn’t bother to talk about it, even if he was directly asked. It wasn't the way he acted when he knew he’d been caught and was waiting to hear about it, but it wasn't normal either 

Still, Rusty had to wonder. It didn't make sense for that to have been CB expecting a punishment, but when Control had called for him, he didn’t seem surprised. Scared, perhaps. But not surprised. 

Something was definitely going on, and Rusty was going to get to the bottom of it. He hurried straight home at the end of the day, not sparing a second to stay and chat like he normally would, intent on finding CB and working out exactly what was going on.

CB was waiting for him when he got home. Well, waiting might have been a stretch. He was sitting at the kitchen table like he sometimes did on the days when he got home before Rusty and was waiting on him to start dinner, but tonight, there were no plates on the table, and although there was nothing particularly distracting going on, CB didn’t seem to notice Rusty coming in. He was just sitting there, chin propped up on one hand, eyes vacant as he stared off into space.

Rusty cleared his throat, trying to get CB’s attention without startling him. “Hey,” he said softly.

CB still seemed a bit dazed as he came back to himself. He turned his head to Rusty a little too slowly, blinking owlishly at him. “Oh, hey.”

Rusty waited a moment for him to say more, to explain why he’d been sitting at the table staring off into space or even just to welcome Rusty home, but that second and the next passed in silence.

It threatened to get awkward for a moment, so Rusty plowed on. “Have you been home long?”

CB tipped his head to the side. “I guess. Why?”

Rusty pressed his lips together, choosing his words carefully. “You never came back to work,” he said, swallowing down the, And that made me really worried, that he wanted to finish with.

“Oh. No, I guess I just let myself off early for the day. Sorry.”

He didn't sound remotely sorry, but Rusty wasn't going to call him out on it. “That’s fine,” he said instead, trying to keep his voice light. “Did you eat already? I can make dinner.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m not hungry.”

“Not hungry?” Rusty frowned. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” CB said absently, “fine.”

Rusty watched him for a moment. The lie was so obvious it wasn’t even worth pointing out. It was, however, concerning. The lack of appetite was bad enough, but for him to be lying about it? Especially to Rusty. It didn't bode well.

Genuine expressions of concern, especially when there really was something to be concerned about, had a tendency to make CB irritated, so Rusty forced himself to remain nonchalant as he reached into the fridge to find something for dinner. He didn’t pay too much attention to what he was grabbing, opening up the first tupperware he saw and dumping its contents into a pan on the stove to reheat.  “So, what did Control want?” he asked over his shoulder.

It took CB a second too long to answer. “Nothing special,” he said after a beat. “Just work stuff.”

Rusty was far from convinced, turning a bit to try to catch CB’s eye. “That was an awfully long meeting for just ‘work stuff.’”

CB shrugged, but he didn't elaborate. Rusty wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but he decided not to press the matter any further. CB was capricious—chances were he’d be over this funk before the night was out. Rusty could pry the details out of him later.

Since all he was doing was reheating, dinner didn’t take long. He piled a single plate much higher than he needed to, grabbed two forks, and made his way over to the table to sit down next to CB. “Here,” he said, handing him a fork as he set the plate down between them. “I made enough for both of us.”

CB eyed the fork with a look bordering on disgust, making no move to take it. “I told you: I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.” Rusty let a little sincere concern creep into his tone, careful not to overdo it. CB didn’t look particularly swayed, so Rusty risked laying it on a little thicker. “Just a few bites. Please? For me?”

CB held out for a few more seconds, but Rusty always was his one weakness. With a sigh, he reached out and took the fork from Rusty.

Rusty rewarded him with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” CB mumbled.

He spent the rest of the meal pushing the food around his half of the plate while Rusty ate, never once taking a single bite for himself, but Rusty forced himself not to mention it. 

***

Rusty was woken up by his alarm the next morning. That was a bit of a rare occurrence for him—a naturally early riser, Rusty typically woke up on his own a good twenty minutes before the alarm was set. The only times he slept right up until it went off were when he’d been up later than usual the night before.

In retrospect, Rusty supposed he had been kept up for quite some time with his thoughts. CB had been acting off all last night, and no matter how many times he denied that there was anything wrong, Rusty knew something was. The hard part was, as long as CB was refusing to say what was bothering him, Rusty didn’t know how to help. 

It was more of a struggle than usual to push himself out of bed. CB was sleeping through the alarm next to him, which wasn’t uncommon. Normally, Rusty would try to get him up almost immediately—CB’s morning routine was a lot more involved than his, so it took him a long time to get ready—but today, he left him to rest a little longer. After all, if Rusty had been kept up worrying about him, he could only imagine how much worse CB’s own night’s sleep had been.

Rusty took his time washing up, trying to give CB as much time to sleep as he could, but he couldn’t delay the inevitable forever. By the time he was dressed and ready for the day, CB hadn’t moved a muscle. It was cute to see him bundled up so cozily, and Rusty couldn’t help but feel a little bad at having to disturb him. Still, if he didn’t get up now, he was going to be late. “CB,” he called, shaking his shoulder gently. “It’s time to get up.”

CB didn’t budge. “I don’t feel good,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the blankets he was burrowed in. “I’m staying home.”

A spike of concern shot through Rusty at those words. “Are you sick?” he asked as he moved his hand up to rest on CB’s forehead.

“Not sick,” CB said with a sigh, pushing Rusty’s hand away. “Just, not… good.”

Rusty frowned. In the few moments he’d managed to keep his hand on CB’s forehead, he hadn’t felt any warmer than usual, and while it was a relief to know that CB wasn’t coming down with something, it did spark a new worry of what would be causing him to act like this.

This wasn’t the first time CB had tried to get out of work for the morning; far from it. But playing hooky was never how he’d done it before. Perhaps ages ago, when he and CB were little more than casual work buddies, CB had faked illness in order to skip his duties for the day, but that habit died once they got together. CB knew how much Rusty worried, and Rusty knew that, although he’d never admit it, CB would feel guilty for making him fret over nothing. So nowadays, when CB didn’t feel like doing anything, he’d simply tell Rusty as much—it wasn’t uncommon for their morning alarm to be met with a grumbled “I’m coming in late today,” from CB as he rolled over and went back to sleep.

There were times, of course, when CB actually had a reason to stay home. His injuries from the crash in the championship hadn’t healed as well as anyone would have liked, and they still bothered him from time to time. But whenever that happened, CB would tell Rusty what was going on—that his back hurt or his leg hurt or what have you—and Rusty would get him settled with painkillers and warm compresses and check in on him throughout the day until he felt better. This sullen vagueness, little more than an unarticulated complaint, was entirely new, and Rusty didn’t like it one bit.

Undoubtedly, it was all to do with whatever had been bothering CB last night. Knowing that didn’t help all that much, though, because CB had never let on as to what was wrong. Rusty had a hunch that it had something to do with that meeting with Control, but that didn’t get him very far. “Do you want to talk about it?” Rusty asked softly.

CB hesitated, and for a second Rusty thought he might have made some progress, but after a moment he said, “Nothing to talk about. I just don’t feel good.”

Rusty sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure it’s nothing a little more sleep won’t fix? You could come in late.”

CB sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes as he rolled onto his back. “Why bother?”

“What do you mean, ‘why bother’?” Rusty asked, a frown tugging at his lips.

“There’s no point in me coming in,” CB said in the most defeated tone Rusty had ever heard from him. It made Rusty’s heart clench to hear him sound like that. “I’m replaceable.”

“No, you aren’t,” Rusty told him. 

“Come on, Rusty. You don’t really need me there.”

“Of course we do.” 

“No, you don’t. You can get by just fine without me.”

Technically, it was true: they could operate without CB if they needed to. It meant that everyone had to pick up a few extra responsibilities to make sure that everything was functioning as it should be, but it wasn’t impossible. But even though they could do it didn’t mean they wanted to. Having CB there meant everything ran so much more smoothly. 

“That doesn’t mean you’re replaceable,” Rusty told him. “The yard can get by without me for a day, too, but that doesn’t mean I’m not needed at all.”

“It’s not the same,” CB mumbled.

“Why not?”

CB opened and closed his mouth wordlessly a few times before giving up on whatever he was going to say. Instead, he sighed. “It just isn’t.”

Again, it was technically true. Rusty was an engine, and CB was a caboose. It would be dangerous for them to run a line with no one monitoring from the back, but it was possible. But they couldn’t run a line with no engine to pull it no matter how hard they tried. But that argument was more so that Rusty’s class was necessary, not Rusty himself. After all, any of the other engines could sub in for him if he couldn't make it in, the same way everyone could pitch in to sub for CB.

Something about the whole conversation was rubbing Rusty the wrong way. Well, everything about it was, really, but the thing that was sticking in his mind was how out of nowhere it was. CB had never been ashamed of being a caboose before. If anything, he took pride in it. To hear him suddenly devaluing himself because of it was odd and very upsetting.

Rusty wanted to keep arguing, but he knew it would get him nowhere; CB was just going to keep stubbornly rejecting Rusty’s points without consideration. On this line of thinking, anyway. “Alright, we may not strictly need you to come in today,” Rusty allowed, carefully throwing in “today” at the end to differentiate between not being needed for a bit and not being needed at all, even if he was sure CB wasn’t listening to that part. “I’d still like you to. It takes a lot of stress off me knowing that you’re watching the end of the line. Besides, I’d get lonely if you weren’t there.”

CB dragged his arm down at that, finally meeting Rusty’s gaze. There was an unpleasant cocktail of emotion swirling in his eyes—pain and sorrow and anger and guilt. Rusty couldn’t come up with a reason why any of them would be there, but he held CB’s gaze steadily, trusting that he would pick up on the full weight of Rusty’s words.

CB wasn’t replaceable. Not in the slightest, and especially not to Rusty. He was making a little light of it, but he truly loved CB with all his heart; he enjoyed just about everything more when CB was with him, work included, and he missed him even when they were only separated for a day. CB had to at least know that.

CB held the look for a few seconds before he had to break it. He was pouting as he drew his eyes away, staring instead at Rusty’s hand where it rested on top of the covers.

Rusty didn’t really want to leave it there, but a fight wasn’t what CB needed right now. As much as he wanted to keep pushing until CB accepted how loved and appreciated he was, he couldn’t ignore the concern twisting at his heart. “Okay,” he relented softly, “you can stay in today. I’ll see you when I get home.”

That was meant to be the end of the conversation, except for maybe a quick goodbye from CB as he tugged the blankets over his head and went back to sleep. But as Rusty was getting up to leave, CB stopped him with a weak plea. “You can’t stay, can you?”

Rusty froze, turning his head back to look at CB. CB hadn’t moved a muscle, still staring at where Rusty’s hand had been with that sad little pout firmly in place. “Do you want me to?”

“Would you? If I asked?”

Rusty bit his lip. He knew the yard could find some way to function if he couldn’t come in, but it would definitely be a scramble for them to have to replace him on such short notice. It would be a lot of stress on them, and it would undoubtedly make the day’s operations a lot rougher than they had to be, especially if everyone was already picking up extra duties to make up for CB’s absence. Rusty hated the idea of putting the yard through that willingly.

At the same time, though, he hated the thought of having to pull himself away from CB now. He looked so upset, curled up pathetically in bed, hands clenched around the blankets but only because he couldn’t wrap them around Rusty’s. He might not have been sick, but something was clearly very wrong, and Rusty would do anything to not have to leave him alone like that.

Torn between the two, Rusty settled on a compromise. “I’ll take a half day, okay? I’ll be home after lunch.”

If CB’s continued pouting was anything to go by, that wasn’t an ideal offer. But in the moment, it was the best Rusty could do, and CB seemed to understand that. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Rusty watched him for a moment before sighing. “Try to get some rest,” he said, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on CB’s temple. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay,” CB said again.

Rusty knew that the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to pull himself away. Still, he couldn’t help himself from pulling the blankets up over CB’s shoulders and running a soothing hand over the top of his head. His eyes were still open when Rusty finally forced himself to leave, so he could only hope he’d manage to fall back asleep until he came back.

***

Despite Rusty’s best efforts over the next few days, CB’s mood never lifted. And he really did try.

For the first day, Rusty gave him space. CB hadn’t opened up right away, and usually that meant that pushing him would be a bad idea. He was still in bed when Rusty got home that afternoon, so Rusty had settled down next to him. He didn’t try to ask CB anything about what was bothering him, instead waiting for CB to be ready to tell him what was wrong on his own. As soon as Rusty was next to him on the bed, CB curled into his side, his fingers grasping at Rusty like his life depended on it. But he didn’t say anything. It was hard for Rusty to swallow down his concern and be patient, but he managed.

It hadn’t gotten him anywhere.

The next day, CB had also stayed home. This time, Rusty was a bit more prepared. When he’d told the yard that he was taking the afternoon off, he’d also warned them that he’d likely be taking the next day as well. It wasn't a guarantee at that point, but it did give them some extra time to have a back-up plan in place in case he did call out. Which, of course, he did.

That day was spent doing comforting things. Rusty had pulled CB out of bed and deposited him on the couch. He bundled him up in a fuzzy blanket and made sure to line up all of CB’s favorite things. They watched his favorite movies, played his favorite games, made all his favorite comfort foods. Rusty read his favorite book to him while CB rested with his head on Rusty’s shoulder. By the end of the evening, CB was able to force a smile, but it was clear that that was only for Rusty’s sake.

Still, he said nothing about what was wrong.

Over the next week, CB got a little better at pretending. He pushed himself out of bed on his own and showed up to work without anyone needing to drag him there—late, always, but present. At least, physically present. His mind seemed to be somewhere very far away. He swung back and forth between being lost in thought and being hyper-focused on the task at hand like he was trying to distract himself. Either way, he never had enough attention to spare for the other cars he was working with. Rusty had to shake his shoulder whenever he needed to speak with him.

He was smiling again, too, but it was obvious that it wasn’t genuine. It looked stiff, almost painful, and it never reached his eyes. And whenever CB thought no one was looking, it dropped away completely, leaving him with a lost and terrified expression that twisted at Rusty’s heart.

Something was very, very wrong.

Rusty had tried asking him about it, but CB never gave an inch. Everything was fine, he insisted, even as he ate less and less and the sleepless shadows under his eyes grew deeper. 

Rusty was stumped. And worried. The problem was, he didn’t know what to do about it. He’d been forcing more food onto CB and pulling him to bed at night, determined to at least take care of him physically even if it wasn’t solving the root of the problem. 

But that root was vexing him. Rusty liked being able to fix things, to solve problems and make things right. The fact that he couldn’t do that now—and for one of his favorite cars, no less—was eating at him.

He tried not to let it show. CB was doing bad enough already; he didn’t need any extra guilt lumped on from how upset it was making Rusty. Even if, Rusty thought a bit selfishly, a healthy dose of it might convince him to open up and actually let Rusty help.

With all his attempts so far getting him nowhere, Rusty was now making a conscious effort not to smother CB. It was hard keeping away from him, even for just an afternoon, when Rusty knew he was so upset, but if CB started to feel too penned in, it was liable to make him snap at Rusty, and that was the one thing that might manage to make the whole situation worse.

Knowing that didn’t make it any easier, though. Rusty threw himself into his work as he often did when he was trying to distract himself. In all honesty, it wasn’t really working—his every thought always spun back to CB, even in the best of times. 

Losing himself in his work may not have had the desired effect of taking his mind off the situation at hand, but it was apparently distracting him from the world around him, because he didn't notice Joule charging up to him until she was practically right in front of him.

“What’s wrong with CB?” she asked without preamble.

Those weren’t the words he had been anticipating as a greeting, and it threw him off-guard. “Huh?”

“What’s wrong with CB?” Joule repeated, slower this time, making a point to emphasize each word like she was trying to trap Rusty into answering.

“I don’t—”

“He’s been acting weird, and I know you’ve noticed.”

Of course, Rusty had noticed, and he supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised that Joule had as well. He knew she and CB were friends, so it was only natural that she would pick up on the fact that CB was acting strange lately, but he wouldn’t have expected her to come to him to ask about it.

“I mean, yes, I’ve noticed, but he won’t—”

“So?” she cut him off. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know.”

Joule’s expression turned incredulous. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“Just that,” Rusty said a little helplessly. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Rusty had said it with as much honesty as he could, but it didn’t look like Joule believed him. “He’s been acting weird,” she repeated herself.

“Yes, but—”

“He’s all quiet and sad and spacey.”

“I know, but—”

“And you’ve noticed.”

“Yes, but—”

“And you don’t know what’s wrong?”

“Yes! I mean, no. I mean… ugh, you know what I mean.”

Joule’s eyes narrowed. “Well, why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?”

“Why don’t you know what’s wrong? Didn’t you ask?”

Rusty bristled. “Of course I’ve asked.”

“And? Didn’t he tell you anything?”

Rusty shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve really tried. But he insists that nothing’s wrong, and you know how stubborn he is.”

That finally seemed to convince her. Joule sighed, her tough front slipping away to reveal the concern it was trying to mask. “Damn. I was hoping you knew something.”

“I wish I did,” Rusty said. “I hate seeing him like this as much as you do. But he’s not talking about it—not to anyone, apparently—so I’m not sure what else to do.”

For a long moment, Joule was quiet. “Do you think it’s bad?”

Rusty fought down a wince. “I hate to say it, but probably. CB’s not the type to get upset over nothing.” Especially not this upset.

Joule chewed her lip for a moment, thinking it all over. “Wrench has been acting weird lately, too.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “CB went to see her a few days ago. Like, office hours went to see her.” The clarification wasn’t particularly necessary—Wrench wasn’t someone CB would go to for a social visit. Although, him going to her for any sort of medical reason was unusual as well. Normally, someone had to physically drag CB in for a check-up. “She hasn’t really been herself since.”

“And you think it's related?”

“I don't know. Maybe.” 

It would be a strange coincidence if the two things weren't related, but it would also be a strange circumstance if they were. CB wasn’t the type to get upset over nothing, and neither was Wrench. She was a medical professional, and she knew how to set aside her personal feelings on the job. For something to have come up in an appointment that was so bad it was still affecting her after she left the office was unlikely. Although, Rusty supposed, not impossible. Yes, Wrench was their technician, but she was also their friend. If anyone in the yard ended up with a particularly grave diagnosis, he would hope that she’d be at least a little upset.

The implications of that thought were far from reassuring. In an effort to keep his head level, Rusty ran through the situation in his mind, trying to determine how likely it was to be true. CB wasn’t exactly weak or whiny when it came to pain or illness, but he did like to lay it on thick if he thought it would get Rusty to fawn over him while he wasn’t feeling well. There was none of that now, which meant that either CB was feeling fine, or that he was feeling so poorly that he was pulling away to lick his wounds in privacy.

Rusty desperately hoped it was the former. 

“I can try asking him about it again,” Rusty offered, “but I don’t think he’ll answer.”

Joule seemed to consider it for a moment, weighing the idea before giving up on it. “He wouldn’t, would he?”

Rusty could only shrug. He didn’t want to seem pessimistic, but he was sure his face was giving away his doubts.

Joule sighed. “Damn,” she hissed. “This sucks.”

“You’re telling me.”

Joule eyed him for a moment, the barest hint of desperation in her gaze. “Isn’t there anything we can do? There’s gotta be something, right?”

It was the same question Rusty had been pondering for the past few days, but he still didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying, but…” 

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Joule was already nodding, understanding exactly what he hadn’t said. “Well, if you come up with any new ideas, let me know.”

Rusty gave her as genuine a smile as he could manage. “Will do.”

Joule hung there for a second more, but it seemed CB was all she had come to talk about, and now that conversation was done. She gave Rusty a simple wave goodbye and she turned on her heel, disappearing back the way she came. 

***

Over the next couple of days, his conversation with Joule stuck in Rusty's head. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was already odd enough that CB had been to see Wrench, and odder than that was the fact that Rusty had had no idea about it. He hadn’t noticed CB being absent for any significant amount of time, nor could he think of any reason why CB would want to keep a technician’s visit a secret in the first place. Add all of that on top of the fact that there was already something going on with him and it was starting to paint a picture that, while Rusty wasn’t entirely sure what it was, he had a very bad feeling about. 

He supposed he could still try bringing it up to CB. He’d shot down all of Rusty’s questions so far, but this was a new angle to press. Not to mention, it was one that Rusty wasn’t supposed to know about. He had the thought that he might be able to use the shock of him knowing to trap CB into answering, although he quickly abandoned that plan. It felt far too mean.

He briefly entertained the idea of asking Wrench what was wrong with CB, just in case it did have something to do with his appointment like Joule thought. Wrench, of course, wouldn’t have told Joule anything about what had happened, even if she’d asked—doctor-patient confidentiality was a strong protection—but as CB’s healthcare proxy, she might tell Rusty.

As tempting as the idea was, he held himself back. Even as CB’s boyfriend, it felt like a huge overstepping of boundaries. If CB wanted Rusty to know what was going on, he would have told him. Rusty could hate the fact that CB was lying to him about nothing being wrong all he wanted, but that didn’t mean CB wasn’t entitled to his privacy. Rusty had no right to pry into matters CB wanted to keep to himself, no matter how good he thought it would be for him in the long run.

That decision was harder to stand behind as more and more days went by. CB was getting better, if only slightly, but he wasn’t back to his normal self, and the worry that was eating away at Rusty was driving him insane.

He wasn’t sure if it was this level of distraction that made it seem so out of the blue when the message from Control appeared in the freight office’s mailbox or if it would have caught him off-guard regardless. In all honesty, it filled him with some trepidation. With everything else that had been going on, his mind immediately jumped to the worst. Notices like this could always be disciplinary, after all; maybe CB really was in trouble.

Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. Once Rusty was able to shake himself out of his confused stupor and open the envelope, he was met with a marketing pamphlet and a brief hand-written note attached to a more official memo, instructing him that the contents of the memo—which was little more than a notification about some new equipment Control would be ordering for the yard—were to be disseminated to all of the freight cars ASAP.

They were just returning from their lunch break, so Rusty figured that meant he should do it now. 

It took a few minutes for everyone to trickle back to the track, but once they were all there, Rusty called them over for the announcement. 

“It’s called an end-of-train device,” Rusty read out, skimming over the paper. “The last car in the line is supposed to carry it. Apparently, it’s going to help monitor the brake lines and things like that.” He read a little further and frowned. “Control wants everyone trained on it.”

Everyone’s heads shot up at that. Well, everyone’s except CB’s. When Rusty looked over to him, the caboose was staring at the ground, feigning disinterest. 

Rocky Three was quick to protest. “What? Why?”

Rusty skimmed over the text again, trying to see if there was any reasoning included that he’d missed the first time but coming up empty. “It’s just what the memo says.”

Confusion quickly spread amongst the cars, but Dustin was the first to say anything about it. “Aren’t you always the end of the line?” he asked, turning to CB. CB only shrugged in response.

“Yeah,” Flat-Top chimed in. “He’s the only one that’s going to be using that junk. Why do the rest of us have to learn?”

“I’m not sure,” Rusty admitted, “but I don’t think it’s all that bad of an idea. You’ve all covered for CB before; it’d be good for you to know how to use his new equipment, too.”

Flat-Top hmphed, but he didn’t voice any further objection. Neither did anyone else. There was sense in what Rusty was saying, after all, even if they weren’t particularly enthused about it.

Included with Control’s memo was a small pamphlet about the ETDs. Rusty flipped through it quickly, noting headers for sections explaining what the devices were, what they were used for, and a brief overview of how they worked. There weren’t any detailed instructions, but he was sure those would come with the devices themselves.

He handed the pamphlet over to the rest of the freight after that. Everyone huddled around, reading over each others’ shoulders to get their first introduction to the new technology.

Everyone except CB, that was. He was hanging back a few steps away from the rest of the group, a tight expression on his face. 

It was strange. Normally, CB was insatiably curious. Rusty would have expected him to be the first one grabbing for the pamphlet, especially since he was the one who would be using the ETDs the most. “Don’t you want to look, too?”

CB shook his head. “Nah,” he said airily. “I’m good. Doubt it’s that complicated anyway.”

Based on what he’d read so far, Rusty was inclined to disagree, but he knew CB was a lot smarter than he usually let on. Rusty was sure he’d catch on quickly to how the ETDs worked when it came time to use them, especially because he was already an expert on everything they were supposed to help with.

The rest of the freight were less familiar with what was essentially CB’s domain. It took them a few minutes to parse through all the technical jargon, but what they eventually discovered was that, underneath all the complex language, the ETDs were quite simple. They monitored the line for the brake pressure and to make sure everyone was still connected and automatically reported it to the head-of-train device being carried by the line’s engine. In that way, most of the learning really had to be done by the engines. In theory, all the cars would have to do was carry the ETD.

“Oh, man. This stuff is easy! Is this all your job is?” Flat-Top turned back to CB, a teasing glint in his eye. “What do we keep you around for?”

Rusty fought down a wince. Flat-Top was only joking, he was sure, but he was accidentally poking into a sore spot for CB. It wasn’t all that long ago he’d stayed in bed for days, convinced he was replaceable to his friends. What rotten timing for some new technology to come in that could essentially do his job for him.

Rusty’s own thoughts gave him pause. What rotten timing, indeed. Too rotten for it to have been a coincidence.

CB hadn't gotten upset until after his meeting with Control, and he'd never expressed any doubt as to his importance in the yard before it. Had Control told him about the new devices before the rest of them? Is that what had been bothering him all this time?

The details were starting to add up, but not fully. Rusty would have thought that, if anything, CB would have been excited about the new devices. He wasn't exactly the hardest worker, so anything that made his job easier should have been welcomed with open arms. There’d be no reason for him to get upset about it taking over some of his responsibilities. Unless…

An icy pit opened up in Rusty’s chest. No. No, it couldn't be. Control couldn't have…

But Flat-Top had made a good point. If these little devices could do CB’s job for him, then why would Control need to keep him around?

It was no secret that CB wasn’t Control’s favorite car in the yard. He was too much of a troublemaker, too hard to control. But even so, it seemed like too much to try to just get rid of him at the first opportunity. Control wasn’t that heartless, was he?

Rusty looked over to CB, desperately searching for reassurance that he was overreacting. 

CB wouldn't meet his eyes. That solidified it. Rusty was right: this is what had been upsetting him. This is what he’d been hiding.

Tears pricked at the corners of Rusty’s eyes. His legs felt weak, and if he were any more present he would have been worried about them collapsing underneath him. He opened his mouth to say something, to ask, to beg CB to tell him it wasn't true, but his throat was too tight for even an exhale to come out.

CB finally glanced up at him then, and then back to the freight. Without a word he pushed himself forward, grabbing Rusty by his couplers and turning him, propelling them both towards home.

Not here, he was saying with his actions. We can't talk about it here. 

Rusty didn't have it in him to fight it. He let CB push him along, in too much of a daze to even think to start pulling. “CB…” he said weakly, trailing off with no idea of how he was even going to finish that sentence.

It wasn't a long trip home, but it passed in a blur. Rusty blinked and found himself standing in the front hall. CB’s hands were no longer around his couplers; he must have let go at some point.

The spell didn't break completely until he heard the click of the door closing behind him. He turned to look over his shoulder, trying to find CB for a little reassurance. CB was standing still facing the door, his back to Rusty.

Dread pooled in Rusty's stomach. His mouth was dry. There was a knot in his throat so big he thought he might choke on it. “CB…”

CB wouldn't look at him. “Rusty.”

“CB, please.”

“Please what?” CB’s voice was bright, playing dumb as he pushed himself away from the door and down the hall. He brushed past Rusty, still refusing to meet his eyes.

Rusty's heart was hammering in his chest. “Tell me this situation isn't what I think it is.”

“Okay. It isn't what you think it is.”

“CB, I'm serious,” Rusty said, following him into the living room.

“You always are,” CB lamented with a sigh. “Would it kill you to lighten up every once and a while?”

Rusty frowned. “This isn’t a time to be joking around.”

“It’s always a time to be joking around. Life’s more fun that way.”

All of CB’s evasions weren’t boding well, and Rusty’s heart climbed impossibly higher into his throat. “Please, just answer the question.”

“You didn’t ask me one.” CB’s nonchalance was fading fast, leaving him sounding increasingly bitter.

“CB, what’s going on?”

“I thought you said you knew. Or at least had an idea. You can probably go with that. You’re smart. You’re usually right about these things.”

Rusty’s stomach sank down to his feet. “CB, please.”

“What do you want me to say, Rusty?” CB said, frustration and defeat coloring his words in equal measure. “I’m being replaced. Control doesn't need me anymore.”

“That… that can’t be right.”

“Can’t it? It makes enough sense to me. Control doesn’t need me, so he’s getting rid of me.” He gave a sardonic shrug. “Simple.”

Rusty’s mouth went dry. “And you know that for sure?”

“Of course I do!” CB spat, sounding almost offended, like Rusty was implying that CB was letting his imagination run away with the situation, or that he was making a big deal out of nothing. “He told me himself.”

“Did he say it in those words exactly?” he asked, scrambling for any explanation other than the one that was staring him in the face. “You could have just misunderstood.”

“Rusty!”

Immediately, Rusty backpedaled. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

CB scoffed. “How did you mean it, then?”

The truth was that Rusty was grasping at straws, and although he knew it, he didn’t want to admit it. “It’s just… Control learns about one new piece of technology and his first idea is to, what, fire you? It doesn’t make any sense. There has to be another explanation.”

“I’m not getting fired,” CB grumbled bitterly. 

“Retiring you makes even less sense. You’re way too young for that.”

CB scoffed. “You think we’d be having this conversation if I was being retired?”

“So is it some kind of demotion? Are you being dropped down to part-time or something?”

“Come on, Rusty, you know that’s not what’s going on here.”

“Well, what’s he going to do with you, then?”

CB went quiet, and somehow, Rusty felt impossibly worse. “What’s going to happen to you?”

CB was quiet for a long moment, and Rusty could tell that he desperately didn't want to answer. “Decommissioned,” he eventually admitted, and that single word hit Rusty like a punch to the gut. “Control’s in talks with a scrapper.”

Suddenly, everything fell into place. “That's why Joule said Wrench has been acting off,” Rusty said quietly. “She did an appraisal.”

CB’s silence was all the confirmation he needed.

The reality of the situation crashed over him like a tidal wave and he staggered, unable to keep himself on his feet against the enormity of it. He ended up having to brace himself against the wall, bowing his head to try to ward off the dizziness as he reminded himself to breathe, just breathe.

CB watched him. Rusty could feel his eyes on him, even without looking. “I asked her not to tell you.”

Rusty couldn't be mad at Wrench for keeping it a secret. Not really. She took patient confidentiality seriously; yes, Rusty was listed as CB’s healthcare proxy, but that didn’t mean that she would volunteer CB’s information without a reason, or at least being asked.

But even so. “Why?” he asked. “Why not tell me?” 

CB sighed. “How could I have?”

“CB, we promised we wouldn't keep things from each other.”

“I know, it’s just… What was I supposed to say?”

“Anything.”

CB shook his head. “I couldn’t hurt you like that.”

“And what did you have in mind for the alternative? To just keep it a secret up until the scrappers came and took you away? To have me wake up one morning with you gone forever and no idea why?”

“I would have figured something out,” he said uncertainly, like even he was doubting that.

The fight drained out of Rusty abruptly, the anger leaving him as fast as it had come on. It left him feeling tired. Empty. 

He collapsed onto the sofa next to CB, slumped forward to rest his arms on his knees. For a long moment, he stared at the floor in front of him. Neither of them spoke.

It was Rusty who finally broke the silence. “When?”

“I don’t know,” CB said. “Whenever the ETDs come in, I guess.”

Rusty’s stomach sank so fast it made him nauseous. He looked up at CB, pain shining in his eyes. That soon?

CB shrugged, seeming to read his thoughts. “Control might keep me around for a bit as back-up to make sure the transition goes smoothly, but he’s not going to need me after that.”

Rusty’s stomach twisted. “No. No, there has to be something we can do.”

“Doubt it,” CB said. “Seemed to me like his mind was made up.”

“He can’t just get rid of you!” Rusty cried. “What… what about the radios? The ETDs aren’t replacing those.”

“I already tried that. Control said he’ll just train someone else. You, probably. You already know at least some of it.”

Rusty immediately felt twice as sick at the thought of personally replacing CB. “I won’t,” he said. “I refuse.”

CB fixed him with a sad look. “That’s a nice stand, but I don’t think it will make a difference. If you won’t do it, someone else will.”

“What if they don’t? What if we all refuse?” The freight yard was a family. Once they learned of Control's plans, none of them would cooperate. 

“I don't know,” CB said tiredly. “I’m sure Control’s already planned for something like that.”

In the days before the championship, unquestioning obedience was expected from all the cars. Control was the boss, his word was law, and that was how everyone treated it. But that spell had since been broken. Resistance hadn't exactly become common, but it also wasn't as unheard of as it had been before.

As a result, Control had to put in the work to figure out how to reign in the yard, and over the time that had passed since the championship, he'd gotten good at it. Of course, he would have some combination of threats, bribes, and coercion up his sleeve that would have at least one car in the yard caving, and that was all he needed. 

Rusty opened his mouth, wanting to keep protesting, but no arguments came to mind. There had to be something they could do, some way to stop this, if only he could think of it. But he was still reeling from the shock of the news, and his head was spinning too fast for any of his thoughts to stick.

CB was still watching him sadly, and Rusty must have looked as bad as he felt because CB sighed. “I’m calling us out for the rest of the day,” he said, getting up from the couch and making his way over to the phone. 

Those words finally connected something in Rusty’s brain. Work. They’d left without a word in the middle of the day. Rusty’s head shot up as a flash of anxiety coursed through him. Why hadn’t anyone stopped them? How long had they been gone?

CB was already at the phone, dialing. “It’s fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

The other freight must have been expecting something like this because CB was able to get someone on the phone very quickly despite the fact that, at this point in the day, the freight were supposed to be on the tracks, not hanging around the office. Rusty was only half-listening as CB lied his way through the call—Rusty wasn’t feeling well so they weren’t coming back; no, it wasn’t contagious, just a headache, and of course CB was staying home to take care of him, how dare whoever was on the other end of the call imply there was any funny business going on—feeling more and more lost by the minute.

Rusty spent the rest of the afternoon in a state of mild shock. The initial rush of emotion had long since died and had left him almost numb. The only thing he was able to feel was the yawning cavern in his chest. Later, he was sure, the anger and despair and anguish and fear would come swirling up again, but for now he felt nothing, and maybe that was a mercy. 

Few words were shared between them that evening. Rusty spent about half of it lost in thought and the other half staring at CB like he needed to make sure that he was still there. 

When they went to bed for the night, Rusty held CB close. CB let him, burying his face in Rusty’s chest. In the dark and the quiet of the night, the words that had been stuck in Rusty's throat all afternoon came a lot easier. “You need to start telling people.”

“No, I don't.”

“Yes, you do,” Rusty insisted. “You can't keep this to yourself forever.”

“Well, what if I want to? What if I think it's nobody’s business but mine?” There was a subtle challenge in his words, a defiance against being told what to do, even if it was for the best.

“They’re our friends, CB. They deserve to know.”

CB huffed. “If it's so easy, then you do it.”

Rusty paused at that. It was the same excuse he had for not telling Rusty, and Rusty didn't think it held much weight. At the same time, he couldn't deny that it would be a difficult conversation. It would make sense that CB—who avoided serious, emotional discussions like the plague—would be so averse to having a talk like that. That didn’t mean that Rusty would let him get away with not doing it, though. “You at least have to tell Dinah.”

CB sighed, but he didn’t try to fight it anymore. Deep down, Rusty knew he knew Rusty was right, even though he didn’t like it. “Do you have any idea of how hard that’s going to be?”

“She needs to know.” Everyone did.

For a long moment, CB was quiet. “Later,” he said eventually.

“CB…”

“I’ll tell her. I will. Just… later.”

CB didn’t quite sound like he was lying, but he also lacked the conviction of making any sort of promise. 

Rusty was too tired to keep pushing. He let his eyes slip closed, the weight of the day pressing down on him. Despite his bone-deep exhaustion, he knew his thoughts were too heavy for him to be falling asleep any time soon. His one comfort was the fact that, at least for now, CB was safe in his arms.

They could work on telling people tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. CB could probably use some time to recoup after today. But they couldn't put it off forever, and when he thought about that, Rusty wanted to burrow down into the blankets and never come back out.

***

The compromise they came to was that CB would tell the cars he was closest to—namely Dinah, Greaseball, Electra, and Joule—and Rusty would handle telling the rest of the yard. Despite the brave face he'd put on while trying to convince CB to break the news to everyone, Rusty was dreading having to have those conversations himself. It was never easy to be the bearer of bad news, but this was the first time he ever needed to say anything quite this bad. 

At the same time, he was holding firm on his stance that everyone else deserved to know. No matter how hard it was, someone needed to tell them what was going on, and if that someone has to be Rusty, then so be it.

The conversations were just about as bad as he had imagined.

Pearl was the first one he told—she was his best friend, and he needed her support now more than ever. She’d been stunned silent at first, watching him with wide and pained eyes as he’d stumbled over his words, choking out an explanation of how once the ETDs arrived, Control was going to have CB decommissioned and sold for scrap. It took her a moment to unfreeze herself from the spot, and the moment she did, she wrapped Rusty up in the tightest hug she could manage. For several minutes, they stayed just like that, clinging to each other desperately.

“What can I do?” she asked once she’d finally found her words.

Rusty could only shake his head. “I don’t know.”

Of course, there was nothing she could do to remedy the situation itself, but she did become invaluable to Rusty for her moral support, especially when he had to break the news to the rest of the yard. CB refused to join him for those conversations, not that Rusty could blame him—he’d seen what CB went through when he told Dinah, and that amount of tears would make anyone resistant to risking a repeat scenario. Still, it wasn't something that he wanted to do on his own.

He started with the freight. He’d debated for a while if he should tell them as a group or individually. Telling them as a group would be much easier: Rusty would only have to go through the explanation once, he wouldn’t have to worry about a delay in spreading the news and having to ask them to keep it to themselves until he was able to tell everyone, and the freight would have each other there for support. On the other hand, this was the sort of news that deserved personal attention when it was being given, especially for anyone CB was particularly close with.

He ended up telling the Rockies one at a time, in as quick succession as he could manage. Dustin and Flat-Top he told together. Dustinn would benefit from having another friend there to lean on, and despite his tough-guy front, he knew Flat-Top would appreciate it, too.

Pearl was there with him for all of those conversations. It was an immense relief to have her at his side, to have an arm around his shoulders or a hand in his when he had to break the news.

She had even taken the lead in telling the coaches. That made it a little easier. It still hurt to hear the news delivered, and to have to answer all of the questions that came after, but at least he wasn't the one who had to say the worst of it, and the coaches looked more towards her for comfort than to Rusty when the words started to sink in.

Telling the electrics really only amounted to telling Wrench that she had permission to discuss what she knew with her fellow components. It was easier and probably kinder that way—Rusty had never been all that close with the group, and they deserved to have the news broken to them by someone who could do it in a way they found gentle.

The only conversation CB had joined him for was when they told Poppa. That was one talk that Rusty absolutely refused to have without him. CB wasn’t particularly happy with that stance, but he did seem to understand, because he agreed to come with only minimal complaining.

Once a week, Poppa invited them over for the afternoon. It was something he did with all of the freight. The idea was to give them some one-on-one time to check in and catch up and make sure everyone had a moment to feel appreciated. Although Poppa’s intention was to have all of the meet-ups be a time for some individual attention, the Rockies switched back and forth between going solo and going as a unit, and after CB and Rusty started getting serious, they started going together as well.

Normally, Rusty loved these weekly visits. Today, however, there was a pit in his stomach thinking about the news he would have to give. 

Poppa would be heartbroken. He loved all of the freight like his own children, and while Rusty was beyond gutted at the thought of losing his partner, he couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to be told you were going to lose a son. 

They were seated at Poppa’s kitchen table, chatting lightly. Poppa was doing most of the talking with occasional input from CB. On any other visit, Rusty would have been much more involved in the conversation, but right now, his heart just wasn’t in it. 

He was only half-listening to the story Poppa was telling, trying to prepare himself by taking deep, steadying breaths, his hands wrapped around the mug in front of him to hide how they were shaking. The first thing Poppa had done when Rusty and CB arrived was pour everyone a hot drink—tea for the two steamers, coffee for CB. Winter had long-since thawed into a beautiful spring, so the added heat wasn’t exactly needed, but the warmth radiating out from the mug was soothing nonetheless. 

Poppa let him have his silence for half-an-hour or so before he tried to broach the subject.  “Rusty.” Poppa’s voice was soft as he called to him but Rusty still jumped, startled as he was called back into himself. He looked up and found Poppa watching him with a touch of concern. “What’s on your mind, son?”

Rusty’s heart pounded. He would have liked at least a few more minutes to prepare himself, but if Poppa was the one bringing it up, it might not be a bad segue. He glanced over at CB, silently asking, Is now the time? CB met his gaze steadily. 

Rusty took a deep breath, shifting nervously in his chair. His throat was closing up on him and he swallowed thickly before clearing it, trying to loosen it up enough to speak. “There, um… there’s actually something we need to talk to you about.”

Poppa’s brows pinched together, his concern mounting at the gravity in Rusty’s voice. His eyes flicked over to CB, trying to glean what was going on, but CB was looking away now, refusing to meet his gaze. “Is everything okay?”

“Um…” Rusty bit his lip. No matter how many times he had this conversation, it never got any easier. And this time might have actually been worse than all the others. He’d thought it was bad enough when he’d had to break the news to poor Dustin, but that couldn’t hold a candle to this. He glanced back at CB, looking for a little help, but CB wasn’t looking at him either. He was on his own.

It didn’t matter. He had to do this. “It’s, um…” he cleared his throat again. “It’s Control.”

“What about Control?”

“You know that new equipment he ordered?”

Poppa nodded. “It’s monitoring equipment, right?” He turned to CB. “To help you?”

CB scowled. 

Rusty reached over and laid a hand on CB’s knee under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. It was as much to comfort CB as it was to comfort himself. “It’s not exactly to help.”

Poppa frowned. “Then what—?”

“He’s…” Rusty cut him off before needing to pause himself. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. This was the hard part, and he knew by now that there was no easy way to say it. He was just going to have to rip the bandaid off. “He’s getting them as a replacement. Once they come in, he’s going to have CB decommissioned.”

After all of the other times he’d done this, Rusty was used to the pattern that people’s reactions fell into when he told them: the initial moment it took for the words to sink in; the brief confusion when, for a second, they were sure they’d misheard; the dawning horror when they realized that they’d heard correctly, and it began to hit them what exactly that meant.

Poppa opened and closed his mouth a few times but no words came out. His eyes flicked back and forth between CB and Rusty like he couldn’t decide which one needed his attention more. The pain in his eyes was almost unbearable, but Rusty tried to meet his gaze as much as he could. He figured he owed him at least that much, especially since CB was still glaring at the table. 

After another couple of seconds, Poppa gave up on whatever it was he was trying to say, settling instead on, “Oh, boys.” He got up and quickly rounded the table, coming over and gathering Rusty and CB up in a hug.

Tears pricked at the corners of Rusty’s eyes, and he blinked them away. As safe as he would feel breaking down and sobbing in Poppa’s arms, right now, it wasn’t about him. He twisted around as much as he was able to in Poppa’s hold so he could hug the older steamer back.

CB, on the other hand, was as rigid as a statue. Rusty couldn’t tell if it was an act to keep up appearances, actual irritation at the coddling, or a desperate need to keep anyone from seeing him get genuinely emotional that had him tearing out of Poppa’s hold so roughly, but he suspected it was some mixture of all three. Seconds later, CB was all but running out of the house without so much as a goodbye.

Poppa watched him go, staring down the hall long after CB was gone. The air that hung over them was thick and tense. Poppa and Rusty stayed frozen where they were, neither of them knowing quite what to do next.

“Sorry,” Poppa said after a few moments, his voice tight with choked-back tears, “I didn’t mean to make him so upset.”

“It’s fine,” Rusty told him. “It’s just a lot right now.”

When another minute passed and Rusty hadn't moved, Poppa’s eyes shifted onto him. “Aren’t you going to go after him?”

Rusty shook his head. “I think he needs to be alone for a bit. He hasn’t had any time to himself since we started telling people.” 

Poppa hummed thoughtfully. “I would’ve thought he’d like the attention.”

“This is different.”

The conversation lapsed after that. What else was there to say? They settled back down at the table and sipped their tea together in silence. The atmosphere was too heavy to call it nice, but it was companionable at least.

When he went to leave, Poppa stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. “If either of you boys need anything, anything at all…”

Rusty forced a tight smile for him. “Thanks.” It was the same offer he’d received from just about everyone else he’d told, and as well-meaning as it was, it always felt a little empty. It wasn't that he doubted that they wanted to help, but what could they do?

Poppa gave him one last hug before he left, which Rusty accepted gratefully. He could tell Poppa was reluctant to let him go, but after a minute Rusty had to pull away. After all, CB needed comfort right now, too, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Rusty had given him as much breathing room as he could stand this afternoon; it was time he went and found CB to give him a hug of his own.

***

The days had settled down back into a routine.

After the news had been spread, once everyone got over the initial shock, there was an immediate movement to figure out some way to save CB. It had caused quite the stir, sweeping over the yard in all its parts. Everyone had gotten involved. 

It started with a near-endless stream of pleas for mercy, which Dinah had put on her best waterworks for, but their cries fell on deaf ears. Control was playing it too pragmatically—the yard wasn't making as much as it used to; they couldn't afford keeping on any superfluous cars. At that, the Rockies suggested the idea of taking a pay cut. If it was money Control was worried about, he could take CB’s salary out of the budget and allocate a percentage of theirs to the caboose instead. The rest of the freight and then the coaches had all volunteered for the cut, but Control didn't go for it. It was too much math, he said. Too complicated.

The electrics had made an attempt as well. As soon as CB had gone to her for the appraisal, Wrench had started drawing up plans for converting him into Electra’s communications truck, an idea Electra had quickly gotten on board with, offering to personally fund the conversion as well as all of CB’s living and maintenance costs from then on. But Electra’s team was already too big for just a personal team, Control had said; he didn’t need it getting any bigger.

Greaseball had even put forth the idea of rejoining the racing circuit and taking CB on as his permanent partner. They could bring not only more money to the yard, but prestige as well. Control was seeming almost spiteful with how deadset he was on getting rid of CB, but maybe if CB was able to make Control look good, it might be enough for him to change his mind.

But no. Control didn't trust CB in any races, and he didn't want CB to tarnish the yard’s name with more cheating.

Rusty had begged Control for days on end to just fire CB. He didn't have to scrap him. He could just let him go, nice and simple. Control wouldn't have to pay him, the yard would still get smaller, and if Control really wanted him gone, there was a small shed just outside of the yard he and Rusty could move into. It would be tight, the two of them living on just Rusty’s paycheck, but they could do it, and CB wouldn't bother Control again.

Control hadn’t gone for that idea, either. He needed the money from scrapping CB to pay for the new ETDs. 

Rusty wasn’t a violent engine by any means, but hearing Control throw that out so casually made him want to throttle him. 

Privately, Rusty had also suggested to CB that he run away. It would kill Rusty to see him go, but it would be better knowing that he was still out there somewhere than having him be scrapped. Sadly, that plan wasn't feasible, either. There wouldn't be any other yards willing to hire a new caboose, and CB didn't have the kind of money it would take to pay for his own conversion. If he couldn't get a job and join a new yard, he wouldn't be able to make it on his own for very long. And if Rusty came with him? Control may or may not have cared enough to spend the resources to go after just CB if he was planning on getting rid of him anyway, but losing an engine would be a different story. He would have a search team out in a heartbeat, and CB would be caught right beside Rusty.

There was nothing they could do.

That was a fact that the rest of the yard had, to varying degrees, begrudgingly accepted. But not Rusty. There was no way he could just roll over and accept it. There was no way he could just let CB go.

Still, for all his conviction, he couldn’t deny that he was losing hope. It was hard to stay positive when your every idea was so brutally shot down.

But as much as Rusty hated it, life went on. He still went over for his visits with Poppa, increasing them from just once a week to two or three times if he could manage it. Sometimes, CB joined him for them, but more often he didn’t. He’d never been quite as fond of the visits as Rusty was, and now that everyone knew about his limited time left, he only went if he really felt like it. After all, no one could blame him for skipping it in favor of something he found more fun.

Rusty didn’t mind. Poppa’s house was a port in a storm for him, and he appreciated having a time to get away from it all and just breathe.

He also, a bit selfishly, liked having someone be concerned about him. Everything was about CB nowadays, and rightfully so, but Rusty couldn’t help but feel like his own struggles with everything that was going on were being somewhat overlooked. 

With Poppa, it was different. “How’re you holding up, Rusty?” was the first thing he asked every visit, and it was a genuine question. He wouldn’t leave it alone until he got an honest answer.

It was nice to be able to get some of his actual emotions off of his chest. Rusty was spending a lot of time swallowing back his feelings for CB’s sake—he didn’t like it when Rusty was upset, and he hated it when Rusty pointed out anything having to do with his decommissioning—and he knew it wasn’t healthy. He needed to talk to someone about it, but every time he thought about bringing it up, he worried that he would be detracting attention from CB or piling more negativity onto an already awful situation.

But Poppa was always there for him, a steady rock for Rusty to lean on. He let Rusty vent until his heart was clear, never judging him if the things he said turned terrible and going so far as to offer some fatherly advice when he could. Of course, it didn’t remedy the situation they were in, but Rusty always left feeling at least a little better.

He was over Poppa’s again today. CB hadn’t joined him, opting instead to spend the afternoon with Dinah and Greaseball. Rusty hadn’t been invited, but he didn’t mind. As much as he wanted to spend every second possible with CB from here on out, he knew how important it was for them to still have their space. He knew CB wanted to be with him as much as possible, too, but he also knew CB wanted to spend time with his other friends as well.

Besides, Dinah might actually kill him if he tried to restrict her access to CB.

With those thoughts in mind, Rusty had happily waved CB off when he left that morning before making his own way over to Poppa’s.

Poppa’s house was the same as it ever was, and within minutes of Rusty showing up, they were both seated at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. Poppa listened quietly as Rusty rambled about how disheartening it was to see everyone else giving up on trying to find a way to save CB. After all their previous failures he couldn’t blame them for that—the fact that they’d ever tried at all meant more than he could say—but at the same time, it still hurt. Poppa nodded along, and the understanding was enough to make Rusty feel at least a little better, even if they couldn’t come up with any solutions for the situation. 

When it came time for Rusty to leave, Poppa offered him an old photo album he’d kept. Most of it was pictures from when Rusty was younger, but there were a few towards the end of him and CB that Poppa thought he might like to have. Rusty waited for him in the front hall while he went to get it, looking at the collection of photographs and the like that Poppa had hung up on the wall to pass the time. Rusty had seen them all often enough that they mostly faded into the background whenever he came over, but today, one of them was catching his eye: a small plaque inscribed with Poppa’s name and the year he was built over the signature of the Railway Historical Society. 

Outwardly, it appeared to be a very unassuming piece of memorabilia. Rusty must have seen it hundreds of times before but he had never given it too much thought. It wasn’t that the meaning of the plaque was lost on him; he knew Poppa was a member of the RHS. He had been for almost as long as Rusty could remember. But Rusty had never viewed the membership as anything overly-special. It was an honor, to be sure, but mostly it was just another facet of Poppa’s life. 

Now, Rusty was beginning to see it in a different light. 

As a historic engine, Poppa was preserved. Even as steamers fell by the wayside and Poppa took on fewer and fewer responsibilities in the yard, he was protected by the Railway Historical Society. Control couldn't touch him.

The gears started turning in Rusty’s head. CB wasn't old enough to be considered historic. Nor, quite frankly, was he important enough. At least, not yet.

Cabooses were disappearing at an alarming rate. From how CB made it sound, Control had been a little slow to pick up the current trend. Already, he said, at least half of the cabooses at other yards he spoke to had been decommissioned. The rest, like him, had been handed their paperwork and were just waiting for their last day.

The entire class was going extinct. Chances were, there would be none left before the year was out. That was important, then, wasn't it? To preserve at least a few of its members before they were all gone for good?

It was worth a shot. Anything was worth a shot.

***

The more Rusty looked into the application process for the RHS, the more overwhelmed he began to feel. It wasn’t necessarily hard, per se, but it was daunting, and made even more so by the fact that Rusty knew he had to get it perfect. 

The application had three parts: a simple form to gather personal information, like name, age, and class; a few long-form responses to explain why the applicant should be considered for membership; and an integrity inspection. 

The personal introduction was easy, and Rusty breezed through it without a second thought. The essays were a different story. How was he supposed to write a compelling argument for why CB should be accepted to a historical society when the only two reasons he had swirling around his head were I love him and he’ll be scrapped if you don’t? How could he come up with an objective list of reasons that CB deserved to live? 

Still, as hard as they were, the essays were at least doable. The integrity inspection was a different beast entirely. It was the only part of the application that Rusty couldn’t take care of himself. 

In theory, it wouldn’t be too hard for CB to get an inspection done. Most repair trucks were authorized to give them, and if an applicant wasn’t able to make it to a repair center, the RHS offered a long list of trucks who were able to make house calls. The problem was, Rusty didn’t want CB to have an inspection done. He didn’t want him to know about the application at all. 

Admittedly, he didn't feel the best about that particular decision. Keeping secrets from CB had never worked out well for him in the past, and besides, for a decision as life-changing as this, CB should absolutely be involved.

That being said, he couldn't quite bring himself to tell CB about it. Truthfully, he was scared. All of their ideas so far had been brutally shot down—what if this was the same? He didn't necessarily want to expect the worst, but after so many rejections it was hard to envision anything else, and he wasn’t sure he could handle the guilt if he got CB’s hopes up only to have them crushed again.

But what else could he do? He couldn’t just fabricate a whole inspection report.

Rusty had chewed on the dilemma for a few days before an idea struck him. CB had gotten appraised. That report was likely to be a bit morbid, but when it boiled down to it, how different was it from an integrity inspection? Both were top-to-bottom inspections, listing out in excruciating detail not only the subject’s current physical condition, but that of all of their parts. The appraisal, of course, would be far more focused on the resale value of everything, but it would still note which parts were original and which had been replaced, which were damaged and the strength of any repairs. Wasn’t that what an integrity inspection would be looking for?

On top of all that, since CB had gotten appraised in the yard, Wrench had been the one to do it. Not only would she already have a copy of the report already in CB’s file, knowing Wrench, she probably had one or two spares on hand as well. And she might be willing to give Rusty one.

He snuck over to Wrench’s workroom early in the morning before work. CB was still asleep when he left, but by this point, Rusty was used to him coming in late. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be that mad about it. Now, it was actually coming in handy, because it let him slip away to Wrench’s without even worrying about being noticed.

Despite the early hour, the workroom door was already open. Wrench liked to make herself available as much as possible, especially at times when no one was on the track and actually had time to come see her. Still, seven in the morning must not have been a very common time for her to get a visit, because she looked vaguely surprised when Rusty poked his head through the door. 

“Hi, Wrench,” he called. He cast a quick glance around the room to make sure that they were truly alone. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted anyone overhearing. “Are you busy?”

“Not at the moment. Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m fine,” Rusty said, rolling into the room and shutting the door behind him. “I just need a favor.”

It wasn’t the sort of thing Rusty usually asked her for, but Wrench managed to keep any further surprise she may have had off her face. She didn’t say anything in response, but she raised a brow and gave him a subtle nod as a silent invitation to continue.

“Do you still have the appraisal paperwork you did for Control?”

That clearly hadn’t been what Wrench had been expecting, and for a moment, she looked taken aback. “I do,” she said carefully.

“Can I have a copy?”

Wrench scrutinized him, calculating eyes studying all the details of his face to try to work out what it was he was playing at. As CB’s healthcare proxy, Rusty could access his medical records, so that part of his request wasn’t too odd. But it was far from a normal thing to be asking for, and Wrench was clearly suspicious. “Rusty, what is this about?”

“It’s… Well, I…” Rusty hesitated. He hadn’t told anyone about the application yet, and for a moment, he was scared to, like talking about it might jinx it, or if word got out about what he was doing that it would be doomed to fail like all their other plans.

He quickly shook that thought off. He’d never been one for superstitions. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to Wrench to get her involved—even if it was only tangentially—without telling her what she was really helping with. “I’m working on an application to the Railway Historical Society. For CB. I figured, if what he says is true, if all the yards are getting rid of their cabooses, then maybe… Maybe they’d take him.”

A spark of hope lit up in Wrench’s eyes. “Do you think so?”

Rusty shrugged. “It’s a possibility,” he said. “At the very least, it can't hurt to try.”

Wrench nodded in agreement. Honestly, it was a bit of a relief to have her on board with the application. Wrench was smart—one of the smartest in the yard. If she thought it was a good idea, then maybe they really did have a chance of it working out.

Despite her enthusiasm, it seemed like Wrench was still hung up on the details. “But why the appraisal?”

“It’s a part of the application,” Rusty told her. “Well, an integrity inspection is. I figure we can probably just use the appraisal.”

The answer, unfortunately, wasn’t satisfactory. “Why?” Wrench asked almost incredulously.

This wasn’t a line of questioning Rusty had been prepared to go down, and he scrambled to come up with an answer. “Well, it’s already done, right? We already have it. We might as well just use that instead of getting a whole new inspection done.”

Wrench didn’t look convinced. “They're not really interchangeable.”

“No, I know,” Rusty said, “but I’m sure it’s close enough. I can work something out.”

“But why not just do another inspection? It shouldn’t be that hard. I’m sure the RHS has a team for that sort of thing.”

“They do, but…”

“... but?” Wrench prompted after a few seconds passed without Rusty finishing his sentence.

Rusty hesitated. He didn't exactly want to say that he was doing the application without CB’s approval, even though it was the truth. At the same time, it was impossible to lie to Wrench, and trying would likely get him into more trouble than just coming clean. 

There was no getting out of it. “CB doesn't know about the application,” he admitted. “And I don't want him to. So, he's not getting another inspection. We’ll just have to make do with the appraisal.”

“You're trying to get him preserved without telling him?” The disapproval in Wrench’s voice was high.

“I know how it sounds,” Rusty said. And he did, really. Applying for preservation was a massive decision, and he was making it for CB, giving him no say in his own future. “It’s just… what if they reject him? You saw how much it hurt him every time Control said no to our ideas. Can you imagine how painful it would be for the RHS to turn him down, too? To know an entire committee decided you weren’t good enough to be saved?”

Wrench pursed her lips. “That’s still the sort of decision he should be making for himself.”

“I know,” Rusty said quietly, “and he can hate me for it if he wants. At least, if it works, he’ll still be around to hate me.”

A few moments passed in silence. Eventually, Wrench sighed. “I can have the report over to you by this evening.”

Rusty’s shoulders sagged as the relief hit him. “Thank you,” he breathed out. 

Since the appraisal was all that he had come to ask for, Rusty turned to leave. Wrench caught his shoulder as he did. “Keep me updated. Please.”

“Of course.”

“And if you need any help…”

“I’ll let you know.”

Wrench held his gaze for a moment, then gave his shoulder a grateful squeeze before letting him go. Rusty gave her a smile in return—as genuine as he could manage these days—and slipped out the door to the tracks.

***

It was another late night for Rusty. Buried in his work as he was, he barely noticed the hours ticking by, even though it was long past the time he used to be asleep by. He was still trying to keep the RHS application from CB, and since CB made it a habit to be involved in everyone’s business—especially Rusty’s—the only time he really had to work on it was after CB had gone to bed.  

He sat at his desk in the office, sifting through the swamp of papers that had built up over the past hour. He always started these sessions trying his best to keep everything in order, but there were so many reports and references and notes and questionnaires that it ended up a mess within minutes. 

The light of his desk lamp was dim but warm. That combined with the silence and the stillness of the house around him made for a very soothing environment, even if what he was working on was anything but.

Rusty was running out of time for the application. There were only a few weeks left until the ETDs were projected to arrive, and during that time, he had to not only finish the application, but mail it, have it be reviewed, and have the RHS’s decision mailed back. Even if he was able to mail in the application for overnight delivery like he was planning, that didn't leave a lot of time for the rest of it. As it was, he wasn't even halfway done with the application, and the stress of needing to finish it sooner rather than later was starting to wear on him.

Rusty rubbed his eyes, fighting back a yawn as he tried to get himself to focus. He probably had it in him to stay up for another hour or so, which was little enough time as it was. He had too much to get done to be able to afford slowing down. He just needed to power through, and—

“You should’ve come to bed by now.”

Rusty jumped. He turned to look over his shoulder and there was CB, leaning in the doorway, watching him with an inscrutable expression. “Sorry. I’ll be right there.”

CB wasn’t placated by that, not that Rusty had really expected him to be. He pushed himself into the room, eyeing the desk over Rusty’s shoulder. “What are you working on?”

“Oh. Um…” Rusty glanced down at the paper in front of him. It was the copy of CB’s appraisal he’d gotten from Wrench. He’d been poring over it, trying to pull out the information the RHS was looking for in the integrity inspection. It wasn't the easiest of tasks—Wrench hadn't been lying when she said the two inspections served very different purposes—but he was making do. He was still able to track through CB’s upgrades and maintenance work, and once Wrench sent over a copy of CB’s last physical, that should be everything he needed. The next step would be synthesizing it into a proper report to attach to the application, but that wouldn't be for a while. Rusty had been at this for three days by now, and he was only on page four out of seven in the appraisal.

CB had draped himself over Rusty's shoulders, giving him the perfect vantage point to survey the papers for himself. When he saw what it was that had Rusty up so late into the night, he sighed. “I told you to let it go.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

CB shook his head. “Look. I appreciate how hard you’re trying to save me. Really, I do. But Control isn’t going to change his mind. All this”—he gestured at the desk—“is going to do is drive you mad.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Rusty…”

“No. We haven’t tried everything yet; I know we haven’t. So Control won't back down on this. So what? There are other paths out there. One of them has to work!”

CB was watching him sadly. “Just because you want that to be true doesn’t mean that it is.”

“It can't hurt to at least try.”

“It can and it will,” CB told him. “You’re going to put all this time and effort into this last-ditch attempt to turn things around, and you’re going to convince yourself that it’s going to work to make it all seem worth it. And then it’s going to blow up in your face and you’ll be crushed.” He wasn’t saying it harshly, but rather matter-of-factly, as if he’d looked into the future and already seen how this would end. 

Rusty shook his head. “I can’t just accept that there’s nothing we can do.”

“You’re going to have to.”

“CB…”

“No. Rusty, listen to me, please.” Please wasn’t a word CB said often, and he seldom ever sounded so serious. The shock of it made Rusty’s jaw snap shut as CB swung around to face him. “You want to help; you want to fix this. You don’t think this is fair, and you’ve never been one to take that sort of thing lying down. That’s admirable. But this can’t be fixed. There’s no amount of work you can do, no secret formula you can work out, that’s going to stop this from happening. And the more you try, the more it’s going to hurt in the end, because I’ll still be gone, but this way you’ll be blaming yourself because you’ll think you could have done something about it.

“I’m not going to be around much longer.” He said it so simply, so matter-of-factly. Just hearing it made Rusty want to cry. “I want to spend the time I have left happily. With you. Not kicked to the side while you drive yourself crazy over plans that won't work.”

A protest rose in Rusty’s throat, an objection that this was different because it would work if Rusty did it right, that Control’s pig-headedness wouldn’t even matter here because they were going over his head . He swallowed it back. That wasn't what CB wanted to hear right now. That wasn't really even his point.

For the first time, Rusty took a moment to really consider what it would mean if the RHS rejected his application. Of course, he knew what it would mean for CB—that was why he was trying so hard to make it perfect. But he hadn’t quite considered what it would mean in a broader sense.

It would mean that all of his work was for nothing. It would mean that he had sacrificed what little time he had left with CB over a fruitless endeavor. It would mean that he would spend the rest of his life regretting not spending more time enjoying just having CB with him while he still had him.

And, he realized, it would mean that CB would be decommissioned feeling like he, too, had lost time he could have spent with Rusty. Because he’d been doing this while CB was asleep, he hadn’t thought of it like he was giving up any of the time they had left together. The fact of the matter was, though, he had. Even if all he had missed out on was a few extra hours of getting to hold CB while they slept, it was a very real possibility that that was something he wouldn’t be able to do for much longer. He should be cherishing it while he still could.

Regret turned into a frantic need pounding in his chest, a need to be touching CB in some way, to be holding him like he should have been all along. He reached out, pulling CB into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” CB told him. “I just want you to be here.”

“I am. I promise.”

CB pressed a kiss to the top of Rusty’s head. “Thank you.”

They spent several minutes like that, wrapped in each other’s arms and content in the comfortable silence that had settled over them. As the seconds ticked by, more and more of the tension seeped out of Rusty’s frame. 

It was another few moments before CB pulled back. “Come to bed?”

Rusty nodded. “Just let me clean all of this up, first.”

CB studied his face for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. He must have ruled Rusty to be telling the truth, because he returned the nod, pulling the rest of the way away. He took a glance at the mess on the desk before saying, “Don't take too long.”

“I won't,” Rusty assured him. “I’ll be right there.”

“You’d better be,” CB said. Then, he placed a gentle kiss on Rusty’s forehead before heading out of the office. 

Rusty watched him go, already feeling the urge to be following. He really did need to do something about the mess on his desk, though, and he swept up an armful of papers to start putting them away.

As he dropped the appraisal paperwork back into the drawer, he paused. He wasn't giving up on this. He couldn't. They had a legitimate chance here, and it wasn't just because he was desperate that Rusty believed that.

Maybe if he told CB about the application he would change his mind. The potential it offered was undeniable, and if he got CB on board with it, it would solve both of Rusty’s problems at once: he could spend more time with CB and get the application done even quicker.

There were too many downsides that kept Rusty from pursuing that plan any further. Even beyond how painful it would be to get CB’s hopes up in case the application got rejected, it felt wrong to make him do any extra work right now. He should be enjoying his life, especially if the RHS did end up turning him away—if this really was all the time he had left, Rusty wanted him to spend it doing nothing but whatever made him happiest.

It was also entirely possible that CB wouldn’t be as enthused about the application as Rusty. He’d turned into a bit of a pessimist recently, and Rusty wouldn’t put it past him to give up on the idea without even trying it. If Rusty told CB what he was doing, and CB told him to stop, would he feel like he had to? Or was this important enough that he would keep going, even though he knew it was directly against CB’s wishes? And would CB ever forgive him if he did?

It was too risky, Rusty decided. Besides, he was close enough to being done anyway. He could find some way to finish without sacrificing any of the time he had left with CB. 

In the morning, though, he told himself, stifling a yawn. For tonight, he had a bed and a boyfriend calling his name.

***

In the end, Rusty reached out to a select few cars for some extra help.

Wrench was the first one he went to. She already knew what he was doing, after all, and she probably should have been the one to handle the integrity stuff anyway. When Rusty handed her the work he’d done so far, she’d skimmed over it and nodded approvingly, then immediately got to work picking up where he’d left off.

He’d also gone to Poppa. Having been through the application process once before and having been accepted, Rusty figured he might have at least some insight on what sort of things might make for a strong application. The essays were already mostly finished, they just needed some polishing and final touches. Or so Rusty hoped, at least.

Poppa was excited about the idea, despite Rusty’s best attempts to temper his expectations. They had no guarantee that this would work, and getting Poppa’s hopes up only to have them crushed by a rejection would be almost as bad as doing it to CB.

Rusty himself was doing his best to stay positive—he had to believe that they actually had a chance here—but it was hard to be enthusiastic with all the stress. It would be the RHS’s decision whether or not they accepted CB, but it was Rusty’s job to convince them that they should. CB’s future depended on Rusty crafting the perfect application, and that was all he could think about.

Poppa coming on board for the project ended up being a blessing for multiple reasons. Not only was he helping with the essays and ensuring they were up to the RHS’s standards, he was also reassuring Rusty every step of the way that they were on the right track, that Rusty’s work was more than good enough, that he just had to have faith.

Rusty wasn’t sure how much he believed him, but it was good to hear nonetheless. 

It only took them a single afternoon to finish up the essays. It was, Rusty worried, suspiciously quick. He stayed up late again that night, combing through the essays for any potential flaw, and was back at Poppa’s first thing the next morning for a second pair of eyes. 

He lost track of how many times they reread their work over the next few days. Rusty had gone so far as to rewrite everything, though Poppa had tried to talk him out of it. Poppa’s argument had been that the essays were fine as they were, but Rusty couldn’t settle for just fine. The RHS wouldn’t accept the application if it was just fine. It had to be amazing. It had to be unignorable.

He felt better about the second drafts. Still, he and Poppa pored over the essays four more times after that, tweaking them as they went. Rusty was sure Poppa hadn’t put this much effort into his own application. He hadn’t complained once, but Rusty could tell Poppa thought he was getting a bit obsessive. But he couldn’t help it; there was too much riding on the application for it to be anything less than perfect.

They needed to get it right. 

It took another two passes before Rusty was confident enough to call the essays done. Or, more accurately, before Poppa was able to convince Rusty that they were as good as they were ever going to get. During that time, Wrench had finished converting CB’s medical records into an acceptable integrity inspection report.

Rusty had accepted the finished report from her with no small amount of gratitude. It would have taken him another week at least to have done it on his own, and even then, it wouldn’t have ended up being anywhere near as professional.

With the finished application put together in his hands, Rusty should have felt relieved. Instead, a sinking feeling of doubt was creeping up on him, not about the quality of their work, but about the reasonability of the plan itself. The application was nothing more than a stack of paper. It seemed so small and insignificant. Was this really enough to stop CB from being decommissioned? Was this really the best they could do?

It could work, he told himself, forcing down the negative thoughts clawing at the back of his mind. It would work. It had to work.

And then, all that was left to do was mail it in. Rusty’s heart was in his throat as he stood in front of the mailbox, the application in a deathgrip in his hand. He was putting CB’s life into someone else’s hands when he sent out the application, and he hated it. A million what-ifs plagued his mind. What if the RHS said no? What if the application wasn’t good enough? What if they lost CB because Rusty had failed him?

Rusty swallowed thickly and took a deep breath to try to quell his nerves. This was their one shot, he reminded himself. He had to do it. 

It took a great deal of mental effort to force his hand open, to uncurl his fingers and let go of the envelope. He could hear it land with a quiet rustle amongst the other letters in the bin.

He stood there frozen for a moment, not sure what to do with himself now that the application was out of his hands.

Poppa laid a hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring rub. “It’s up to the RHS, now.”

Rusty’s stomach clenched at the thought. 

But Poppa was right. This was a necessary part of the plan, and Rusty had known it from the start. Everything he’d been doing was to make the best application possible, so the RHS had no choice but to accept CB. Now was the time for them to make that decision, so there was nothing left for Rusty to do but go home and start counting the days it took for the RHS to reply.

***

The ETDs arrived two days later. A single, small, unassuming box was delivered directly to Control, much to the kid’s delight. Immediately, he could be heard excitedly discussing all his big plans for the future of the yard. The ETDs were just the first step in his plan for modernization—big changes, he promised, were certainly on their way.

Rusty was called to the office not much later to pick up the devices. He was shaking as Control handed the box to him. He didn’t want these; he didn’t want any of this. He wanted to shove the box back at Control, or to throw it in the incinerator. 

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he hated it, he knew he had no choice but to take the ETDs. So he did, fighting down revulsion the whole time. 

Once he left Conrol’s office, he promptly shoved the box into the back of the store room and tried to forget about it, but it was no use—everyone in the freight yard heard him get called into the office, everyone saw him leaving with the box. They all knew what that meant. Thankfully, they were all also on the same page in acting like they hadn't seen anything, but Rusty’s every thought still spun back to that damn box no matter how hard he tried.

Of course, pretending like it didn’t exist was a tactic that could only last for so long. After three days, Control was questioning why the ETDs weren’t being used yet, and after another two he was demanding to see them on the track. Rusty tried to stall for a little bit longer—arguing that, since they’d already planned out the work schedule for the next two weeks, they would have to wait until at least then to have any time to figure out how to work with the ETDS, and then insisting that he’d forgotten where he put them—but it was no use. That same afternoon, he was dragging the box back out of storage, feeling like he was going to be sick the entire time.

Inside the box, the new technology sat innocently. There were eight devices in total: one head-of-train device for each engine, a matching end-of-train device to be carried by the last car in their line, and a spare of each. When Rusty went to distribute them, Electra admitted that he already had an HTD built into his main computer, but he accepted a set anyway just to take it off of Rusty's hands.

The next step was to figure out how to actually use them. Rusty had pored over the manuals, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of them. Admittedly, his heart wasn’t really in figuring it all out. If he could have called all the new technology a wash because it was too complex to use, he would have. Sadly, that wasn’t an option.

CB had ended up explaining it to him, sitting down next to him one night and showing him how to check the brake pressure and activate the emergency brake and make sure everyone in the line was still connected. Rusty was hanging on every word he said, not out of any interest in learning how the ETDs worked but because there was a very real possibility that he wouldn’t get to listen to CB much longer. He put all his focus into trying to enjoy it while he still could, committing the sound of CB’s voice to memory. The fact that he ended up picking up how to use the ETDs that evening faster than he’d learned anything before was just an unfortunate consequence.

For a few days after that, CB’s theory that Control might keep him around while the yard got used to the ETDs proved right. As with any new technology, there was a learning curve to them, and while everyone was working out just how to use them, CB hung around as backup. Mostly, he sat on the side of the track, keeping an expert eye on how the line was moving, but sometimes he would jump on the end if something looked wrong or if they were having trouble seeing behind them as they backed up.

It wasn’t sustainable, Rusty knew, but it was nice. Every second he got to spend with CB at this point was a blessing, and as long as Control hadn’t announced a date for his decommission yet, Rusty could pretend like it was going to be put off for the foreseeable future. It was blissful, blatant denial, but he’d live in it while he could.

Then CB got called into Control’s office.

The afternoon had started out like any other. The yard had breaked for lunch and was lounging outside, enjoying the sun and the beautiful weather. Rusty, of course, was sitting with CB, basking in his company while he still could. 

Of course, the peace couldn't last. “Red Caboose to the Assets and Operations Office,” crackled the loudspeaker.

Everyone froze. Silence descended over the yard, tense and thick and suffocating. Rusty’s hand tightened into vice around CB’s, a wash of dread flooding over him. 

CB gave his hand a reassuring squeeze in return. “It's fine,” he told him softly. 

It wasn't fine, but there was also nothing to be done about it. This was the call that they’d both known was coming, but despite the fact that they'd been waiting for it on tenterhooks for the better part of a month, it still felt like it had come too soon.

Rusty was hit with the sudden urge to run. The fear that had been slowly creeping up on him for the past few weeks was finally close enough to feel like an immediate threat, and his fight or flight reflex was kicking in. He wanted to take CB and flee, escape the yard before Control could get his hands on them. 

He couldn’t do it. He knew he couldn’t, but that knowledge didn’t make the idea any less tempting. 

He was sure his desperation was plain on his face, but CB met his eyes steadily, stoically, just a touch of sadness in his gaze. He knew what Rusty was thinking. He knew as well as Rusty it wasn’t feasible.

A sob was building in Rusty’s throat and he swallowed it back thickly. “Can I at least pull you over?” he asked weakly.

CB took a deep breath in, quivering at the end as he fought to keep his composure. “Please.”

Rusty nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Wordlessly, he stood up, turning slightly so CB could hitch on.

The feeling of CB’s hands on his couplers was a familiar comfort. Normally, Rusty loved the feeling of pulling CB—the reassuring tightness of his grip, the quiet whir of his wheels behind him, the way he would always leave his brakes on just enough that Rusty couldn’t ignore him if he wanted to.

Now, however, all he could think about was where they were going and what was waiting for them when they got there. Every step he took dropped another stone in the pit in his stomach but he kept going. He didn’t really have any other choice

All eyes were on them as they made their way to Control’s office. He must have made the call over all the speakers they had, because even outside the freight yard, they were being watched. The coaches, the electrics, and even the diesel gang stopped and stared as they passed.

Even without turning back to look at him, Rusty could feel how uncomfortable it was making CB. Normally, he loved being the center of attention. But there was something different about being the center of pity. Everyone knew why Control was looking for him, what sort of news he was going to hear. 

Rusty was dragging his feet, but even so, he couldn’t make the trip last forever. All too soon, he caught sight of Control’s office rising up before them. 

Rusty wanted to be sick.

At the door to the office, they stopped. For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The air was tense and brittle with an icy apprehension. 

Rusty was the one that broke the silence. “Do you think I can come in with you?”

“Probably not,” CB said, even as his grip tightened on Rusty’s couplers.

The thought of sending CB in to face the situation on his own was repellant, but Rusty knew it wasn’t up to either of them. If Control wanted the meeting to be just him and CB, then that was exactly how it would be. “I’ll wait out here for you, then.”

CB nodded. He wasn't looking at Rusty, eyes stuck on the office door like he was transfixed. “Thanks.”

It was another minute before CB shook himself out of his reverie. Rusty felt him flex his grip around his couplers like he was trying to ground himself before letting go. “This… probably won’t take long.”

Rusty swallowed thickly. “I’ll be here.”

CB nodded. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders before straightening his back, pushing open the door, and rolling into Control’s office with his head held high.

The door swung closed behind him with a definitive click.

For several long minutes, Rusty waited in front of the office, his stomach tying itself in knots. A jittery feeling had started up in his legs, and he was once more hit with the desire to run. At the same time, he felt rooted to the spot, unable to do anything until CB came back out. He took up pacing as an unhappy medium between the two.

His head snapped up so fast it almost gave him whiplash when he heard the door open. CB was standing in the doorway with a stack of what could have only been decommission paperwork held loosely at his side, his face carefully—intentionally—blank.

Rusty froze, icy dread turning his muscles to stone. Tense silence settled over them, so thick Rusty was practically choking on it. He wanted to ask, but he didn’t dare. Maybe, an irrational part of him thought, if he didn’t know, then it wouldn’t happen. If CB didn’t say it, if neither of them acknowledged it, they could pretend like nothing was wrong. And maybe, if they pretended well enough, it might become true. 

The larger part of him recognized how ridiculous that was. This was happening, whether Rusty knew the exact details or not. Wouldn’t it be better, then, to have all the information? To make sure he could make the most of the time they had left?

Even so, he couldn’t shake the part of him that didn’t want to know, that was crying that knowing would make it real and begging for the protection of ignorance. 

He was about two seconds away from starting to shake when CB broke their stalemate with a heavy exhale. 

“Two weeks,” he said, holding the stack out for Rusty.

It was a struggle for Rusty to keep his hand steady as he reached out to take the papers, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them once he did. He stared down at them blankly, not even reading them. All he could think was that this was it. This was what he’d been dreading. The end of everything boiled down to a few sheets of papers and two signatures at the bottom.

His eyes fixed on those signatures, on CB’s in particular. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Control was having him sold for scrap, he had to add the ultimate insult to injury and force CB to literally sign his life away.

It wasn’t fair. It was cruel and degrading and heartless. CB shouldn’t have had to go through that. No one should.

The situation was too awful to put into words, but still Rusty tried, summing it up with a very quiet, “Fuck.”

CB said nothing. There was nothing else to say.

For a long moment, they stood in silence. Rusty stared down at the papers, reading over phrases like “to maintain condition” and “cash on pickup” without really taking them in. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

When CB finally spoke, his voice was weak and shaky. “Can we go home?”

Tears had welled up in Rusty’s eyes, and he blinked quickly to clear them away. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or sob, but whatever the sound was that was building in his throat, he swallowed it back. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft and tight and sounding every bit as defeated as he felt. “Let’s go home.”

***

Even with CB’s last day now set in stone, Rusty was still near religious about checking the mail every morning. Part of it was habit, but part of it was some shred of hope that refused to die. Despite everything, he was still on the lookout for the decision letter from the RHS. The whole world didn’t stop just because Rusty’s was ending; even though CB was officially scheduled for decommission, the application had already been sent. The mail trucks would still deliver it to the RHS; there was no way to stop it, no way to tell the RHS it was too late. At some point, they would get the application and review it and send their decision back. It had to get there eventually.

And today was that day.

Rusty was frozen, staring down at the envelope in his hands, sick with anxiety. The logo for the Railway Historical Society sat innocently in the corner. Rusty was sure it had never looked so terrifying to anyone before.

The rest of the mail already lay forgotten on the counter. Rusty only had eyes for this, this one envelope that held the determination of not just his future but, more importantly, CB’s. 

It could be good news, he told himself, trying to quell the nervous twisting of his stomach. He and Poppa and Wrench had put so much into the application, had given it their all to make it perfect. It could have been enough. The RHS could have accepted it, and this could be the letter that told him so.

But just as easily, his mind spun back, it could be a rejection. All of their other attempts to stop CB’s decommission had failed, so why should this one be any different? 

Minutes ticked by as Rusty stood there, unable to move. As long as the envelope remained closed, it could contain anything. It almost felt safer to leave it like that, to hang onto the possibility of it containing an acceptance rather than run the risk of confirming a denial.

But no. Whatever the letter said, good or bad, he needed to know. 

There was only one way to find out.

Rusty slid a finger under the flap of the envelope, feeling so weak that it was a struggle to rip the paper open. He held his breath as he drew the letter out, hardly daring to look at it. But he had to read it. He had to know. 

Biting his lip, Rusty carefully unfolded the letter and read:

On behalf of the Railway Historical Society, we are pleased to announce the acceptance of The Red Caboose into our

Rusty stopped reading after that. A wave of relief crashed over him, so strong that it sent his legs weak enough to give out from under him. He collapsed into a chair, hardly even noticing his own change in position.

Accepted. Accepted. They'd done it. CB was going to be preserved. He was going to be saved.

Suddenly boneless, Rusty dropped the letter. It fluttered down to land on the table in front of him. Rusty sagged to follow.

Quietly at first, then quickly growing louder, laughter bubbled up around him. It sounded almost unhinged. Manic. It took Rusty a few moments to realize it was coming from him.

He pushed himself up from the table, leaning his weight instead against the back of the chair. He was still too weak with relief to support himself and he sagged back, his neck losing the fight against gravity until his head tipped back and he found himself looking up at the ceiling. His wild laughter increased in volume until he was practically shouting with it.

They’d done it. He wanted to tear out of the house and scream it at the top of his lungs. He wanted to run from car to car and spread the good news as fast and as far as he could, to make sure everyone knew.

Control would be angry. Rusty couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when they told him. He was already relishing the mental image of the rage in his eyes when he realized that his plans were ruined and there was nothing he could do about it, how he would have to hold himself back from a tantrum when he realized he’d been bested. He might try to take it out on Rusty, but that was fine. He wouldn’t be able to do anything to CB, and that was what mattered. 

CB was safe. Rusty could still hardly believe it. This was it, this was everything he’d been working for these past few weeks. This was the resolution he’d been praying for.

CB was still here. He was going to stay here. Rusty wasn’t going to lose him.

“You're being loud,” CB said from behind him. He was standing in the entryway to the kitchen, clearly having just rolled out of bed. Rusty must have woken him up. He couldn't find it in himself to care.

For a brief moment, the sight of him took Rusty’s breath away. He was beautiful. Even with his bleary eyes and his hair a mess and lines from the pillow still pressed into his cheek, he was the most gorgeous thing Rusty had seen, and all he wanted to do was keep staring at him, forever if he could. Because he was here. He was alive and vibrant and beautiful and here.

He needed to be over there, next to CB. He needed to touch him, to hold him.

Rusty rocketed up out of his chair and over to CB, closing the distance between them. He reached out, cradling CB’s face in his hands and pulling him into a deep kiss. CB, he could tell, was surprised and confused, but he came willingly, kissing Rusty back eagerly even though he didn’t know what the occasion was that called for it. 

The longer the kiss went on, the lighter Rusty felt. The love that was overflowing out of his heart was so much and so strong he was almost dizzy with it. Happy tears sprung to his eyes and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to sob or laugh or scream or just keep kissing CB.

Eventually, the feeling of being lightheaded with joy morphed into being lightheaded from lack of oxygen and Rusty had to pull back. He didn’t go far, leaning his forehead against CB’s while he tried to catch his breath. He took a few extra seconds before he opened his eyes, blinking away the teary blurriness so that he could really take in and appreciate the vision in front of him.

CB, for his part, was watching him with a high degree of suspicion. “Why are you so happy?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “Did something happen that I don't know about?”

Rusty could only laugh. At a loss for words, he twisted around and grabbed the letter from where it had landed on the table so he could shove it at CB.

CB took it from him, though he looked far from impressed that a single piece of paper was causing all this stir. That was, until he started reading it. 

The first pass was just a quick glance, skimming it over to try to glean what had Rusty so excited without putting too much effort into it. Even moving quickly, his eyes caught on enough of the important words to make him pause and go back to reread. And then reread once more, bringing the letter up close to his face like he wanted to make sure he was reading it correctly. “Rusty, what… What is this?”

“We got you in,” Rusty told him. “To the RHS. So they can have you preserved.”

“Preserved,” CB echoed, barely above a murmur.

Rusty nodded. “And Control can’t do a thing to stop it, no matter how hard he tries. Even if he wants to try to go against the RHS, there’s not a scrapper in the country who would take on the job.”

CB stood there frozen for a few long moments. Then, so fast Rusty almost missed it, his head snapped up and he landed a half-hearted punch to Rusty’s arm.

“Hey! Don’t hit.”

“You give me grief about not telling you things, and then you go and do this”—he gave the letter an emphatic shake—“behind my back?”

“Yeah, well, now you know how I feel,” Rusty said. He couldn't deny that it was hypocritical, but he also didn't really care. After all, this was a good thing, and it felt much more akin to planning a surprise than keeping a secret. Besides, it wasn't like CB was never hypocritical, and he always learned best when he was given a taste of his own medicine.

He doubted CB saw it that way, otherwise he would have either conceded or snarked back. Now, though, he was staring down at the letter again, rereading it like its contents could have changed. “You’d stopped,” he said plaintively. “I thought you’d gotten better about it.”

“There was nothing to get better about,” Rusty objected. “Control wanted to have you scrapped and I couldn’t let that happen. None of us could.”

CB’s eyes locked onto his, steely and intense. “What do you mean, none of you?”

Belatedly, Rusty realized that probably wasn’t the best thing to say, but there was no denying it now. “Poppa helped with the application,” he admitted. “So did Wrench.”

“Rusty.” CB’s voice was sharp and tight, and Rusty strained to pick apart the emotion behind it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, because CB wasn’t exactly sounding happy, and an apology was probably in order anyway. They did submit the application without his consent, regardless of how good their intentions were. “But what else were we supposed to do? You were being taken away from us.”

“I told you to let it go!”

“And I told you I couldn't!” After how many times he had said it, it was the one thing CB really should have known. “I was going to lose you,” he said, his voice breaking at the end despite his fight to keep it steady. ‘How could you think that was something I'd ever be okay with? Imagine how you would have felt if I’d been scheduled for decommission?”

CB wasn't listening. “There was a contract.”

Right. The contract. That did give Rusty some pause. CB, he knew, didn’t care about the legalities, but since signatures were involved, Control could certainly make a case for having the scrapping agreement upheld.

At this point, Rusty couldn’t have cared less about what Control did next. “Whatever. He can take it to court if he wants to fight it. I’m sure the RHS has better lawyers. Besides, that letter is dated. You were already accepted when Control had you sign that nonsense. Pretty sure this takes precedence.”

“But…” 

“No more buts,” Rusty told him. “Control was going to have you scrapped, and now you can’t be. This is saving you. Isn’t that a good thing?”

Tears were brimming in CB’s eyes. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to express something but at a loss for words.

Rusty watched him for a second, confusion and alarm tight in his chest. He could understand why CB would be upset about Rusty not running the application by him before sending it in, but CB was acting like his acceptance was the problem, like he was having an issue with being preserved.

It didn't make sense. At least, not until Rusty forced himself to take a step back and look at it from CB’s perspective. 

He didn’t think CB necessarily wanted to be decommissioned, but he seemed to have made his peace with it. He’s known it was a possibility—hell, maybe even a probability—for a lot longer than Rusty had. He’d accepted it. He’d expected it. 

Rusty would have thought that the preservation would have been a relief. It was saving him, after all. How could that be anything other than a miracle? But now that he stopped to think about it, it became blatantly obvious that CB had been going through a lot more than just his own decommission. 

CB had been friends with cabooses all across the country, and everyone was in the same boat as he was. As far as Rusty knew, CB was the first one to be able to get out of it. He might even end up being the only one. How many friends had he seen get taken away? How many more did he know he was going to lose? He still had everyone at the Apollo Victoria, but of course there was no replacing everyone he’d lost. There was no replacing the other cabooses.

Rusty was somewhat surprised that the thought hadn’t occurred to him before, but then again, he didn’t know any cabooses other than CB. Of course he knew that the whole class was disappearing, but the impact to him personally was limited to whether or not CB made it out.

For CB, it had to be different. His main social circle was here at the yard, and they were all still here, so it was easy to think that once his own decommission was stopped, he wouldn’t be impacted by the take-over of the ETDs anymore. But his connection to the situation was so much more than that. This was his class that was being wiped out, his friends and family, regardless of how close they were. He hadn’t just been facing his own end, but the end of everyone who ever was or ever would be like him.

It really hit Rusty then that CB could end up as the last of his kind. What must that feel like? CB hated letting people see him when he was upset, so whatever his true feelings on this extinction were, Rusty knew he’d kept them hidden. But how isolating must that feel? How lonely? And now, to know that he would be the only one left? Forever?

How much of his salvation actually felt like a condemnation?

Still, Rusty couldn’t bring himself to regret the application. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he’d much rather have CB here and sad than scrapped. If it came down to a choice between losing CB and keeping him at a price… well, that really wasn’t a choice at all. 

That didn’t mean Rusty didn’t feel bad about it, though. Especially when CB was so clearly struggling.

He reached out to take CB gently by the shoulders. He was staring down at the acceptance letter in his hands, so Rusty ducked a bit, trying to catch his eye. “Are you okay?”

No response.

“I'm sorry, okay? I know I should have asked. But I was going to lose you. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if that happened.”

CB shook his head, though what he was denying Rusty had no idea. He seemed to have given up on trying to say something, albeit unhappily, and he made a frustrated little sound in the back of his throat.

It broke Rusty’s heart to hear that, and he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. CB only got like this when he was extremely overwhelmed. “Hey, it's okay,” Rusty said softly, giving his arms another rub. “Do you want to sit down?”

CB shook his head again.

Rusty searched his face, trying to find a clue as to what CB might need in that moment, but came up unfortunately blank. “Do you want some space?” he asked carefully. “I can go if you want to be alone.”

Another shake.

A drop of tension eased out of Rusty’s frame at the answer. He would have left if CB had requested it, but he felt so much better staying with him when he was this upset.

Reassured that he was still wanted here, Rusty wracked his brain for anything else that could help. “It’s still early; do you maybe want to go back to bed? We can talk about this more once you—oh!”

Without any warning, CB surged forward, snaking his arms around Rusty’s waist and attaching himself to him in a tight hug. He tucked his head under Rusty’s chin, a favorite position of his when he was looking for comfort.

It took Rusty a second to get over his surprise, but once he did, he wrapped his arms around CB and pulled him in even closer. Even now, it was an immense relief to be able to hold CB like this, and Rusty felt himself relaxing more and more the longer CB was in his arms.

Slowly but surely, CB was relaxing, too. The vice-like tightness of his arms loosened into something more comfortable and his head dropped down slightly so that it was more-so resting against Rusty's neck rather than jamming his jaw shut. 

They stayed like that for several minutes, basking in each other’s comfort. Rusty would have been happy to stay like that forever. So, it seemed, would CB, as he made no moves to pull away either.

Rusty didn't know how long they stood there, nor did he particularly care. Eventually, what could have been minutes or hours later, CB sighed. “Thank you,” he whispered, the emotion behind it unmistakable despite the softness of his voice.

“Anything for you,” Rusty told him. “Always.”

[allmightskitten]

From the Abandoned WIP Graveyard:

"nutritious and good for your bones" a.k.a the Shuggy Omegaverse AU

tags: post-Marineford, this segment is SFW, alpha shanks/omega buggy

☆

If Shanks was to believe what everyone on his crew kept telling him, Buggy actually wanted him here.

It was approaching their fifth day sailing side by side since their chance encounter on these seas. The navigators of both crews had advised on the same exact path and pace– despite Buggy's relentless efforts to convince his own navigator otherwise– which had lead to some helpful collaboration during the spotty storms that hit them. The storms came and went at random, sometimes twice a day, but everyone was growing used to it, following what was by now a true and tested procedure to handle one as soon as it hit.

When it wasn't stormy, the seas were deceptively calm.

These periods provided the best excuse for good alcohol-fueled parties and feasts, an irresistible draw for any pirate. Having two crews present meant even more food and booze, so no matter how feared the Red-Haired pirates were, Buggy's crew didn't hesitate to accept their invitations.

These periods also provided the best excuse for Shanks to go seeking his oldest friend.

It started with business, because he knew how cagey the clown could be, and when Shanks started to run out of captain-to-captain discussions he could frame as 'business', he grasped at every chance he got. Buggy sometimes let his guard down and laughed at things he said or got along with him too well until he noticed and went cold again. Unlike Shanks, Buggy didn't exactly act like he was thrilled to be in this situation.

"No, no," Beck grumbled at Shanks's half-hearted offer to help repair some damages sustained to the mast from the last storm. "I know you're itching to go see him. Get out of here."

Shanks scratched the back of his head, having the good grace to feel sheepish.

"It wouldn't be right if I didn't help around the ship..."

Beck stopped what he doing to turn around and look at him dryly, with no appreciation or amusement.

"I think you would be doing both our crews a huge favour if you just slept with him already. The pheromones from both of you are absolutely insufferable to those of us who can detect them, so. You can help by..." He made a vague gesture with his free hand. "...sorting out whatever the hell it is you've got going on with Buggy."

Shanks was briefly dumbfounded, before his shock turned to embarrassment and he sputtered.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Buggy doesn't even want me here."

Beck raised an eyebrow so high up it touched his hairline.

"Oh, he wants you here, alright. You probably can't smell it because that's what he always smells like around you. Do us all a solid and fuck that clown, will you?"

Shanks choked on his spit, indignant, but before he could start an argument, his first mate left his post and headed with a bunch of planks in the direction of some other repair works, leaving Shanks uselessly staring after him.

Beck was not even the first person to tell him that these past few days.

The original plan had anyway been to go looking for Buggy, this time with a peace offering of some good sake he'd coveted in his cabin for a while, so that was what he did following this interaction. Beck's words echoed in his head.

Could he really not detect what everyone else was apparently catching in Buggy's scent?

☆

A/N; I apologise profusely for abandoning this one, but if it makes things better it was just gonna be pure filthy smut (the title is a reference to the, um, lactation kink that's supposed to happen–) with no other substance, so!