#it is my personal choice not to do anything besides occasional drinking and i guess caffeine is a drug that i am very much addicted to

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

ppl who do mushrooms and weed bc they are "natural" (many things are Natural and doesn't mean they are good for you) will literally say shit like actually is has been PROVEN mushrooms are much less dangerous than alcohol!!!! alcohol is the DEVIL!!!!

gurl a glass of wine will never do to you what mushrooms can do to you. i've had a friend almost die bc she took "very safe" mushrooms that were legal and guaranteed by a certified shop owner that they were okay. she took a small, recommended amount. and she had a trip so bad she couldn't drink water bc she couldn't remember how and then she couldn't sober up, or eat chocolate which usually helps, etc. and she needed to be supervised bc she almost died. and other ppl in the group weren't doing so great either.

[strwbmei]

Matchup Event

Matchup for: @dukemira

Matchups: Fu Hua, Firefly, March 7th

Contains: fluff, nsfw, creampie, mentions of bondage, mentions of choking, mentions of temperature play, soft sex, public sex, mentions of nipple play

A/N: Sorry for taking so long! Honestly, with Firefly's section, I have no idea how to bake so I apologize if anything is incorrect!

Ask: Long time no see I guess? Haha, anyway it's been a while and you look good, also congratulations for your 1000 followers! Okay I'll start. I will use Mira as the name, my mbti is INFJ, and my zodiac is Virgo. I'm a listener type person, I'm not speaking that much, unless the topic is interesting (or I like the topic) for me, I'll ramble so much. Many people see me as a stoic person, like I don't really care what happened later, or right now Even if it gets me in trouble. You could say I'm a hardworking person, I'll try everything to achieve what I want. If you don't mind, I would like to choose both. My first date scenario? Maybe we watch stars and aurora while drinking hot coffee and some snack (I like quiet place, irl I always go out at night like pm and go home at 3 in the morning lmao) it's just, so refreshing y'know? I'm indeed a dominant, and more into vanilla sex, soft, gentle. (Sometimes I wanna tie them up, and close their vision) (pls don't match me with male characters) The fandom Im in, honkai impact and honkai star rail.

Fu Hua

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Like you, Fu Hua often takes late-night walks to clear her mind. The day she decided to take a different route for a change of scenery, she had no idea that this choice would end up affecting the rest of her life.

: ̗̀➛ It all starts off as the both of you passing each other on a quiet, isolated street; things like you glancing at the woman the first time you saw her because of how rare it is to see someone else around these hours. The most you'd get were stray animals and the occasional taxis, and you liked it that way.

: ̗̀➛ Your overly carefree attitude towards life and Fu Hua's overly cautious and apprehensive nature perfectly balance each other out like yin and yang. Not one is greater or worse than the other; both are inseparable as are the sorrows and joys of living that you'd gladly experience with each other.

: ̗̀➛ Change is a fearsome thing. All of the insignificant differences come together until eventually, you realize that your surroundings have already changed beyond recognition. Fu Hua firmly believes in this, and yet, it was the same change that brought her to meet you. As such, you're also the one to introduce her to new things. It takes her a bit of coaxing, but she's willing to try anything as long you're with her.

: ̗̀➛ Generally speaking, the two of you have so many similarities and just as many differences. Somehow, though, you make it work. Not because you just happen to be the right person for each other, but because you want to make it right.

"Fu Hua?" Your voice breaks Fu Hua's train of thought. She'd been gazing up at the sky for a while now, reminiscing about the past as she does so. It's not something she particularly chooses to do the first dusk of every new year, but she always ends up doing it nonetheless.

"Ah, you're awake. Did I wake you when I got up from bed?" She turns to you with a somber yet warm smile on her face. Her gaze goes down to the two cups of hot chocolate in your hands and mutters a small "thank you" as she takes one of them. You shake your head in response to her question. "Mm. I just got a bit worried when I woke up and you weren't beside me."

"What are you thinking about?" You ask before taking a quick sip of your drink. The dark and rich taste is perfect for calm, quiet mornings like this. Last night was filled with celebrations and festivities, and now that they're done, the city has fallen asleep. The sun peeks out through the horizon to greet the start of the new year.

"It's nothing important. It always amazes me how quickly time can pass and bring change." Her gaze falls down onto the jewelry shop at the corner of the road. It used to be a small diner run by a nice elderly couple. They had a dog; a small Australian terrier named Winter. Ironically enough, Winter did not like the cold. She wonders where they are now and how they're doing.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, the sunlight illuminating the unlit city. Fu Hua smiles at the sound of the dogs barking; it's the one thing that has stayed constant throughout all these years. She hopes spending mornings with you like this will become one of those things as well. "Happy New Year, my love."

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Very vanilla and traditional so Fu Hua thinks she should always be submissive, at least at first. She's open to trying out new things in bed. We all know that she'd be submissive regardless of her old fashioned mindset, though.

: ̗̀➛ Fu Hua is open-minded when it comes to kinks, so she's willing to try anything at least once as long as it isn't anything too extreme or unhygienic.

: ̗̀➛ She's really big on safe sex. Fu Hua is actually very educated on sex despite having little to no personal experience with it/things related to it, mostly because she's had to give her disciples "the talk" before.

: ̗̀➛ During sex is when Fu Hua is the most emotionally vulnerable. She accidentally slips out words that she'd be way too prideful to say in any other situation, says "I love you" a lot more than usual, and reaches out to hold your hands subconsciously.

: ̗̀➛ She can go for a lot of rounds, but afterwards, she's immediately falling asleep. She'll try to give you the best aftercare she can (even if you were the one on top,) with the energy she has left, but the most she can probably do is get you a glass of water and a towel.

"My love..." She sighs, desperate and needy. Her legs rest at either of your sides as your hips rut slowly and softly against hers. Slender, calloused hands rest on your back, clawing ever so slightly whenever you hit a certain spot inside of her.

The room is dimly lit with scented candles, your clothes scattered on the floor while sensual music plays in the background. A scene telling of the romance and passion between two lovers.

You adjust yourself to hit deeper inside of her, and Fu Hua sings. She sings your name like an angel gently comforting you with her embrace; soft, and loving.

Feeling yourself nearing climax, you groan her name and bury your face into the side of her pale neck. As if in unspoken understanding, her fingers reach out to intertwine with yours, and her legs wrap around your waist.

Your hips stutter, and you fill her deep with your cum. Her chest rises up and down as she catches her breath, and she looks ethereal. You're set on spending the rest of your life with her.

March 7th

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ You and March 7th are the epitome of the saying "opposites attract." Or so, people say. While that might seem true on the surface, you actually have a lot of similarities like two stars in different galaxies, shining with unique brilliance yet connected by the vastness of the universe.

: ̗̀➛ For example, the two of you like quiet places; only for different reasons. You like quiet places because you like being able to be at peace and be alone with your thoughts. March likes quiet places because she can often find you in them. She loves bustling atmospheres and the blinding city lights, but she loves you more.

: ̗̀➛ Her troubles affect her more than they seem to, and when she can't silence the negative thoughts in her head, it's you that she comes to for respite.

: ̗̀➛ There's something about you that makes March feel so... safe and secure. She feels comfortable telling you about things that she'd normally repress herself. You keep her grounded. You help her get through the bad times and replace them with good ones.

: ̗̀➛ You care for her and try to comfort her the best you can, but you don't really care about things like "who she used to be" and "what she even is." Human, alien, or even as an emanator, you'd love her all the same. What matters to you isn't her past, but the future that you can have together.

"Hehe..." March looks up at the new ring you bought for her. The cold, silver metal shines when the moonlight hits it just the right way. To her, its glint symbolizes your love and the future to come. "Do you really like the ring that much?" You ask since she's been staring at it intently ever since you first got it for her. Of course, you're flattered since you also chose it, but you know March can be a bit overdramatic sometimes.

March turns to you as soon as the question leaves your lips. "Of course! You bought it for me, after all." She smiles with pride. You chuckle at her reaction and pat her head. "I'm glad you like it, but don't dote on it too much. I can always buy you a new one, y'know?" You weren't exactly rich, but that ring wasn't exactly expensive either. It was just something you bought because it seemed to be her style.

"Sure, but every gift from you is special to me. Even if you get me an extravagant wedding ring one day, I'll still treasure all of the handwritten notes you leave me sometimes." You blush at the implications of marriage. Of course it's been on your mind too, but to hear March mention it so casually has you feeling a bit bashful.

"When that time comes, let's get a big house and a whole army of pets! Ah, but that might make it difficult for the express... What about 5? Or if Pompom allows us, 10?" You chuckle at her ambition. You can already imagine Pompom going crazy with cleaning all of the fur. Still, a future like that with her sounds quite nice.

"We'll get as many as you want, March."

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ She's not a stranger to the concept of sex, but there are a lot of things that she doesn't know about it. Despite that, or maybe because of that, she's always wanted to try.

: ̗̀➛ March 7th mostly bottoms--she counts on you to take the lead since you're more knowledgeable. She can definitely be the dominant one if asked, though. Top or bottom, her main goal is for both of you to feel good.

: ̗̀➛ Getting tied up and wearing nice lingerie are her favorite things! The intricate designs make March feel prettier, so she sometimes wears them underneath her clothes just for that confidence boost.

: ̗̀➛ She's up for it anytime anywhere mostly, but she's a bit hesitant to have sex in busier places. She likes it when there's a chance of someone spotting the two of you in the act, but she doesn't want to actually get caught. That would scar her for life.

: ̗̀➛ Loves it when you get more assertive. She loves how gentle and caring you are with her, so seeing a side of you that's so different gives her whiplash in the best ways possible.

: ̗̀➛ Her nipples are the most sensitive part of her body. She could have an orgasm just from you playing with them. A close second is her neck, though. Whether you leave kisses all over it or choke it ever so slightly, you're sure to get her gushing in her panties.

"I swear to Akivili, I'm going to kill you once all this is over!" March whisper shouts, turning to face you with an angry red all over her cheeks. Whether it's from embarrassment or arousal you're not sure.

The Astral Express had been invited to a fancy dinner, and as a result, you're spending the night mingling with the other guests; mostly the bigwigs of the planet you had just arrived on.

Or so, that's how March expected the evening would go. Now she's sat on your lap, legs spread as she gets fingered by you under the table. To others, you'd merely look like a young, naive couple in love, unaware of how her cunt drips slick and clamps down on your fingers.

Everyone turns their heads towards both of you when March whimpers in the middle of her sentence. She's quick to dismiss their concerns, and you chuckle at their cluelessness, saying March is just feeling a bit nervous.

You hold her gently by her chin and press a seemingly chaste kiss on her lips, swallowing her moans as she cums all over your hand. The rest of them are left none the wiser to the filthy acts the two of you are committing behind the scenes.

March hates how good you can make her feel.

Firefly

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship is one full of secrets, but neither of you really mind. You understand that everyone has things that they wouldn't want anyone else to know, and that being their partner doesn't make you an exception.

: ̗̀➛ She doesn't question you when you come home at ungodly hours of the day. You don't question her when she comes home smelling like smoke and motor oil. You rush into each other's embrace regardless of the day you had beforehand. It gives you comfort and warmth and makes you feel like nothing else matters other than being in your lover's arms and the steady beating of their heart.

: ̗̀➛ Her favorite activity to do with you is baking! Neither of you is particularly skilled at it, but she finds the experience therapeutic and wants to share it with you. Firefly also has fun experimenting with the recipe to see what works the best.

: ̗̀➛ Firefly is a very kind and gentle partner, but only when she's awake. When the two of you are in bed together, (which is very rare considering how different your schedules are,) she becomes a heartless monster who hogs literally all of the blankets and pillows. Yes, blankets with an s. You've tried to solve this problem by getting your own, but to no avail.

: ̗̀➛ Honestly, it'd be pretty easy to take the blankets away from Firefly since she isn't very physically strong, but you can't. She just looks so peaceful asleep like this (despite leaving you vulnerable to the cold) and you know that she's tired. Hell, it's probably been a week or two since she's slept this well. You just don't have the heart.

"See, all you have to do is place the icing into the bag and..." Firefly rambles on about the techniques she uses when decorating pastries, even going as far as to give you a live example on the cake rolls the two of you were currently baking.

You cherish every second of these comfortable, domestic moments with her given how rare it is for the two of you to have the whole day to spend with each other like this.

However, there is one problem.

Earlier, you noticed that she accidentally put salt instead of sugar when making the batter. Should you tell her, or let her taste the consequences of her actions?

As you're faced with this life-threatening dilemma, Firefly looks up at you with a concerned expression and asks, "Are you okay, Mira...? We can always do this another time if you want."

For a moment, you almost take pity on her. Thinking of all the nights she took all the blankets and pillows (albeit unconsciously) and left you without protection against the cold, you make your decision. This blanket hogger must be brought to justice.

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ It's good that you're more into soft sex because that's quite literally all that Firefly can handle. Seriously. Don't go rough on her unless you want her to get sent to the hospital.

: ̗̀➛ She can get a bit insecure about this and think that you deserve someone that you won't have to restrain yourself for during sex, but you reassure her that isn't the case and that intimacy isn't the most important part of your relationship with her.

: ̗̀➛ Due to how frail she is, it takes a lot of trust for her to engage in intimacy with someone. Chances are, you're probably her first time. She trusts you to not only make her feel good, but she also trusts that you'll be gentle and respect her boundaries.

: ̗̀➛ She's more on the vanilla side, but being physically weak doesn't stop her from having a few kinks of her own. For the most part, she'd be into getting blindfolded and temperature play.

: ̗̀➛ Whether Firefly is on top or not, she's way too gentle to ever hurt you, even accidentally. She's definitely the type to ask for consent/ask if you're feeling good every 5 minutes, regardless of how horny and desperate she might be.

When Firefly walked through the door with a sense of restlessness in her footsteps, rushing to take off her coat and straddle your hips as you sat on the couch, you already knew what she wanted.

Every time she's away at work (if you can even call it that) for a long time, she comes back all tense and desperate to please you. It's her favorite way to destress, she says. Still, you can never get used to your sweet and gentle Firefly being so... lustful.

Of course, you don't mind and you'd gladly help her take her mind off work, but the contrast in her behavior never fails to catch you off guard.

She buries her face into your neck, breathing heavily as her hands fumble for the waistband of your pants. "Pants, please?" You snap out of your inner monologue and help her.

Once she looks up at you, you can't help but notice the glint in her eyes. It's... different, and hungry. You can't help but be glad that you don't have to wake up early the next morning.

[freddie-weaselbee]

Someone Blue//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: Slight language, angst, a lot of confusion, fluffy ending

Summary: Fred spots a familiar face at his brother’s wedding, and has a sinking suspicion about why she’s acting so upset during this time of celebration. 

Prompts: Enemies to Lovers (kind of) and Weddings with the dialogue prompts “you look like you need a hug” and “did you need something?”

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Day 1 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge 

Angelina looked absolutely ethereal, skin glowing in the shimmering lights as she glided across the grass as if it was a ballroom floor. Her white dress was slightly stained, mostly from when her now husband tackled her to the ground after their first kiss as a married couple, and yet it only made her seem all the more angelic. 

George’s feet seemed to never touch the ground. He was moving at record speeds, prancing and hopping and skipping around the dance floor, dragging his wife along with him. It was the most joyful Fred had ever seen him. 

Not when they left Hogwarts, not when they opened their shop, not even when Angelina said yes to the proposal could have compared to the happiness on George’s face. Nor Angelina’s. They were in a pure state of bliss. 

The rest of the wedding-goers seemed to match their energy. Fred couldn’t go anywhere without being bombarded with drunken laughs and horrid dancing, and the occasional congratulations or two from some tipsy guests who didn’t know that the man they were talking to wasn’t the groom. 

All in all, it was an amazing night. The field behind the burrow had become a traditional wedding venue for the growing Weasley children, so far hosting Bill, Percy, Ron, and now George’s days to remember. The tents and lights were all set up as they were with Bill and Fleur’s wedding, except this time there was no risk of Death Eaters ruining the event. Hopefully. 

However, while making his way around to talk to (and flirt with) the guests, Fred happened to notice one person who did not fit the overzealous tone. Well, he didn’t really happen to notice. Rather he’d been staring at her throughout the entire night, watching her somber mood break through her happy façade. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. 

You were standing by yourself, but you weren’t secluded from the action. Rather, you were right in the middle of things, on the very edge of the dance floor, staring out at the masses of bodies swinging their partners around. Your arms were crossed over your chest, a defensive position that Fred had seen so many times in you before. 

He turned away and tried to ignore it. It wasn’t any of his business if you were upset. The two of you were barely even friends anymore. You had cut him out of your life so many years ago and never looked back. To this day, Fred still didn’t know why, and it killed him. 

He wanted to walk away. To go the other direction toward a beautiful guest wearing a flowing red dress, hair done up perfectly. The stranger would be the smart choice. A fun way to spend the evening, dancing around and snogging under moonlit trees. But, against his better judgement, Fred’s heart wouldn't let him leave. 

Sighing, Fred lifted his feet and made his way in the other direction, to the girl who couldn’t care less about him. 

You stood unmoving, except for a subtle sway to the music. People brushed by you, but you paid them no mind. You were too focused on something else. As Fred drew nearer, he was able to follow your line of sight to the people in question. The newlyweds. 

Fred bristled before softening slightly. Of course. This must be about George. Back at Hogwarts, Fred was positive you had the biggest crush on his brother. You were always tagging along with their jokes, even when they got you into huge trouble. You definitely spent more time alone with George than Fred, sharing whispers and stares at the expense of the older twin. He could never get George to break and tell him what you two talked about. George even took you to the Yule Ball in your 6th year. You had never looked as radiant as you did that night, except for maybe this moment. Fred wished he had asked you to dance at the ball, but he never worked up the courage to. He didn’t want you to internally grimace at the thought of dancing with the “lesser” Weasley twin when George was right there. 

In his recollection of memories, Fred hadn’t noticed how close he had gotten to you, and how you were no longer gazing at the couple dancing. You were now staring at him. 

“Did you need something?”

Fred was shaken out of his imagination, met with an annoyed glare but soft smile coming from you. His surprise was immediately replaced with his signature cocky grin, leaning his hand onto one of the wedding tables while keeping his gaze on you. Unfortunately, his hand accidentally dipped into a wine glass, but he quickly pulled it out and hoped you didn’t notice. You did. 

“Well, that’s not a very nice way to greet one of your oldest friends, now is it?” Fred wiped his wine-covered hand on his suit pants and slipped it into his pocket, pretending to be unbothered by his previous mistake. 

You turned your eyes away from him, once again gluing them to the dance floor. “I think it’s fitting, seeing as how you were creepily staring at me for about 5 minutes before I said something.”

Fred’s ears grew pink at the accusation. “I, umm, I didn’t realize it was that long. Or that you noticed. Sorry.” He bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to glance around at other guests who might interest him more. 

“You still haven’t answered me.”

Fred cocked his head to the side in question. 

“Why’d you come over here? Was there something you needed?”

“Ah, yes well,” Fred began smoothly, “I saw this darling beauty from across the tent and I just could not take my eyes off of her--”

“Fred,” you interrupted. You were looking at him again, your gaze piercing through him, forcing him to tell you the truth, to tell you everything about him. His fears, his hopes and dreams, what he had for breakfast this morning. He wanted to tell you it all. 

“The truth, please.”

Clearing his throat, and his mind of whatever thoughts just plagued him, Fred decided to be honest. You deserved that much. 

“You look like you need a hug,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. 

Evidently, those were not the words you were expecting to hear. You were prepared with about a dozen quips to say in response to whatever cocky joke Fred was about to make. But he didn’t, and nothing could have prepared you for what he did say. 

“I--I need a what?”

“Sorry, have you lost your hearing or was I not loud enough? It’s definitely not the second; you’ve told me on numerous occasions that I have the biggest mouth of anyone you know.”

There it was. But it still made you giggle, relaxing and gravitating closer to your companion. 

“I heard you,” you said, “just wasn’t expecting that from you, I guess.”

Fred took a half step closer, visibly glad when you didn’t move away. “Wasn’t expecting me to have noticed your behavior, or wasn’t expecting me to care if I did?”

It took you a few seconds to respond. “Both.”

He let out a sound of understanding before you both averted your eyes, looking straight ahead. Occasionally, Fred would try to look at you using his peripheral vision, and you would do the same. It became a kind of game--just an awkward back and forth between two people who used to be so close, and were now so far apart.

You game ended when one of the wedding guests decided to clink their glass, beginning a chorus of high pitched chimes to echo throughout the room. You watched as George turned to find Angelina, running to her to give her a kiss so full of love and passion that it took everything Fred had not to shout out a joke and ruin the moment. He could do that next time. 

He noticed you stiffen at the kiss, presumably because it was just another reminder of what you couldn’t have. George. 

“You know, I always wanted to be a Weasley.”

Fred was surprised that you had spoken to him, and even more surprised about the turn the conversation had taken. 

“I grew up with you guys,” you continued, not waiting for Fred to respond. “Molly was like my second mother, even though she always liked Hermione and Harry a bit more than me.”

“Join the club,” said Fred, causing you to laugh loudly, a sound he hadn’t heard from you in ages. Godric, how he had missed it.

“It’s just…” you trailed off, not knowing if you wanted to be open with Fred, someone you hadn’t spoken to in years. Chances were, you wouldn’t keep in touch much after the wedding, so you might as well. What was there to lose? “It’s just...seeing Angelina, one of my best friends, dance around, wearing that ring, getting to be an actual Weasley. It’s...it’s making me a wee bit jealous.”

Fred watched you fidget with a bracelet on your wrist and decided to push his luck just a bit more. “And you’re wishing that it could be you wearing the ring, married to a certain Weasley gentleman?”

The shock was evident in your expression. “No, no, it’s not--I mean I never…” Sighing, you decided to come clean. “Yeah, I’ve maybe been harboring feelings for a certain twin for, oh I don’t know, my entire life. No biggie though, it’s totally fine that he never asked me out.”

The ginger beside you threw an arm around your shoulder, handing you a glass of wine in the process. “Drink. It makes everything better.”

You glared at him, but took the glass anyways, chugging it down in a few large gulps. “Another, please,” you demanded, and Fred obliged. 

You started to ease into Fred’s side, as soft and comforting as you remembered it to be, before realizing exactly what it was you were doing. “Fred, can I ask you something?”

“‘Course. You can ask me anything.” The absolute last thing Fred wanted to be doing at the moment was talking about your undying love for his twin brother, at his wedding no less, but he didn’t want to leave you alone. Not seeing you for so long had had a harsher effect on him than he thought, and he didn’t want to leave your side. 

Taking a deep breath and gathering your courage, you asked him the question that had been plaguing your mind for years. The one that ate you from the inside out and kept you tossing and turning at night. The reason you had to separate yourself from your love in the first place. “Why am I not good enough?”

Your voice broke a tiny bit, but a lot less than you had been expecting. A tear did happen to slip out, and Fred quickly wiped it away, his fingertip resting on your cheek for a moment too long. 

“Y/N, love, come here.” Fred pulled you into that hug he had talked about earlier, holding you closely to his chest. If he thought you were going to appreciate the gesture, he was wrong. You pushed him away softly, refusing to let any more tears fall. 

“I’m serious, Fred. W-Why am I not good enough? I’ve made it clear for years and yet...nothing. And not even a simple rejection. I could’ve handled that, y’know. If I got a simple no, I could’ve handled it and moved on. But I never did, and it’s killing me. Why am I not good enough?”

It killed Fred to see you this upset, and it hurt him even more to see that the anger was directed at him and not at George. It was his brother that broke your heart after all, not him. “You are good enough!” Fred said, with enough truth and force that a little part of you believed it. “You’re, you’re too good! You’ve been by our side from the beginning and haven’t left it since. Well, we haven’t seen you in years, but that’s probably because of--”

You nodded, confirming what he thought. Your heartbreak had driven you away. 

“But other than that,” he continued, “you’ve been like my third arm. Any guy would be crazy to give you up, you know that?”

 A tiny smile grew on your face, but was gone as soon as it had arrived. “The timing...the timing was just all wrong, wasn’t it?” you asked. 

Fred nodded, watching his brother and his wife greet guests and take pictures that were sure to be on the mantle in the burrow as soon as the wedding was over. “Yeah, I guess so. The prick should’ve asked you out sooner.”

“Oh I agree wholeheartedly, he is a prick,” you said, poking his arm, a gesture that slightly confused him. “So, I’m guessing there’s no chance of anything happening now? No sliver of hope that maybe this could work out?”

He hated that he would be the one to crush your dreams, but he couldn’t let you keep living in false hope. “Well,” he said, “the wedding bands are on and they both said ‘I do.’ Kind of hard to come back from that. I’m sorry.”

You froze, now more befuddled than you had been all night. “I...what?”

Before Fred could say anything you reached to grab his left hand, checking his ring finger for something you knew wasn’t there, but you had to be sure. 

“Wedding bands? What in the world do you--” Realization hit you like a brick, and you wanted to slap yourself. Or Fred. Either one. But preferably the latter. 

“Frederick, my dear love, who do you think we have been talking about this whole time?” you asked, voice genuine but also teasing. 

Fred didn’t know what you all of a sudden found so amusing, but he was already doubting himself and he didn’t want you to make fun of him for whatever he had done wrong. 

“Umm, well you said a Weasley, and then you said a Weasley twin. So I thought the answer was obvious.”

“Say it,” you demanded. “Who have we been talking about? Who am I in love with after years of unrequited feelings?”

He felt like he was walking into a trap, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He hesitated for a few seconds before your searing gaze forced him to answer. “George. We’re talking about my brother George.”

No sooner had his words left his mouth than your hand came up to slap his head. “You idiot! Are you serious right now?”

Fred stood flabbergasted, racking his brain for who else you could have been talking about. George was a Weasley twin. You said you were in love with a Weasley twin. Who else was there?

“It’s you, you big oaf!”

Oh. OH! There were two Weasley twins, and he was one of them. Which meant…

“You’re in love with me?!”

By this point, heads were turned to watch the scene and people were not-so-subtly whispering to their partners. 

You dragged a still surprised Fred through the crowd and out of the tents, finding a secluded enough area where you could talk. 

Fred’s brain had still not been caught up. “It’s me? You’re in love with me? But, but what about George?”

You furrowed your brow, wondering how Fred could have so easily mistaken your feelings for him as those for another. “What about George?”

“You’re in love with him!”

“I most definitely am not!”

“The Yule Ball!” he spat out. “You went to the Yule Ball with him when we were 16!”

“Yes,” you said calmly, “and you went with Angelina, but I don’t see you two getting married. We went as friends and I talked to him about you the entire night. In fact, most of the time when we hung out I was talking about you. Made him swear not to tell though. I was never good about expressing my feelings.”

Fred put a hand to his head, a growing throb threatening to overtake his senses. “But why were you so sad tonight? You wanted to marry George!”

“No,” you said patiently. “I was sad because Angelina and George’s relationship worked out the way I was wishing one between you and I had. They fell in love during school, dated a few years later, and now she’s a part of your family. I wasn’t wishing it was just me out there with your brother. I was wishing that it was our wedding.”

You blushed heavily and buried your face in your hands, embarrassed by your bluntness about your feelings. “Oh, Godric, I shouldn’t have said that, now it’s more awkward. I, umm, I should probably get going.”

Fred grabbed your wrist before you could leave, pulling you into his chest. His eyes were wide, mouth hanging slightly ajar as he gazed down at your muddled expression. 

“It’s me. I’m the one you love.”

He said it as more of a declaration rather than a question, but you could tell that he needed confirmation. 

“Of course, Freddie,” you said. “It’s always been you.”

His hand wasted no time in going to the back of your head, pulling your face into his and melding your lips together in your first kiss with Fred Weasley. After the shock wore off, you were hastily kissing him back, hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t pull back and proclaim what a stupid mistake this all was. But he never did. You kissed and kissed and kissed until you were the one who had to pull back in order to catch your breath. 

It took you both a few seconds to realize what had just happened, and for the first time you both were at a loss for words. “That was, umm…” you mumbled, trying to think of what to say. 

“I love you too.”

Fred’s words were rushed out of his mouth, voice deep ragged. “I mean, when you said it was me, not George, that you loved. I, well, I love you too. Always have. Guess I just thought that you had a thing for George and I had no chance. Pretty silly of me, huh?”

“Downright stupid of you,” you replied, giggling as he pushed you away with a bashful smile gracing his lips. 

“So,” he said quietly, inching closer to you once again, “is there a chance of anything happening now?” Fred repeated the words you had said earlier, making you smile wider than you had all night. 

“Depends,” you said. “Are you gonna get the courage to ask me out?”

Fred waited for a moment before answering. “How about,” he said, offering his arm out for you to link with yours, “we have that dance we never got at the Yule Ball. And then that date we never got after, and then that relationship we never got as well. Oh! And then that wedding, and then a dog, maybe a few kids, a big house in the country--”

“Woahhh, slow down buddy, you haven’t ever properly asked me!”

You took his arm and made your way back to where the music continued to blare and festivities raged on. 

“Y/N, love, may I have this dance?”

You pushed a strand of hair from his face, ruffling it up a little to give it that signature Fred Weasley style. 

“Of course, Freddie. And every dance after that.”

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

[study-coffee-chicago]

Drunk Face (A Halstead brothers + Halstead sister! Imagine)

"Bye Y/N," Jay started as he grabbed his last duffle bag from beside the kitchen table. "Make good choices. Don't do anything stupid. Will's on shift tonight, but best believe I will find service if I get a call from him saying you got brought into Med or from a fellow cop saying that you got picked up."

"Jay, relax. I'll be fine. This isn't my first weekend staying home alone by myself," you said.

"Yes, but it's the first time you'll be home alone for the weekend when you're 21. That's what I worry about."

"Who says I didn't drink when I was home alone before I was 21?"

"Excuse me?" Jay asked, setting his duffle back down on the floor.

"I'm kidding. I wouldn't try that with you as my brother. If it was just Will, maybe."

"Nice to know I'm the stricter one."

"Jay, babe," Hailey asked as she walked back into the apartment, "you ready?"

"Yeah, just telling Y/N to make good choices," he replied as he picked up his bag once more.

"No, he just doesn't trust me, that's what this is, Hailey," you said.

"Jay, be nice to Y/N. She's a good kid. She'll be fine," Hailey said and brushed her arm up against Jay.

"She's 21."

"Pretty sure she only drinks seltzers. It's hard to get drunk super fast off of those unless you shotgun them."

"What's that?"

"Nothing!" they both exclaimed.

"Okay, okay. I'll just google it." Jay opened the door and let Hailey out first and then followed her out. "Have fun! Use protection!" you yelled before you closed the door.

"My God," Jay laughed. "You've been spending way too much time with Adam."

"Leave! Make smart choices!" Then, you closed the door behind them for a weekend by yourself.

A few hours later you got home from the liquor store with your premade mango Jose Cuervo margarita. First, you grabbed a lemon-y kind of beer from the mini-fridge where Jay kept all the alcohol. You drank that with your dinner. Then, you turned on your favorite tv show and poured yourself a glass of that mango margarita.

***

God, you didn't even feel that drunk. You had drank a can of that beer and two and a half glasses of that mango margarita...which was about 1/2-2/3 of the bottle...and it was a big bottle.

You walked upstairs to go to the bathroom. You were a little buzzed, but not as bad as one time when you drank a margarita and three white claws. And, you drank those fast and you just fell asleep with a dopey, drunk smile on your face. You were hungover the next day, but you were just tired; you'd never thrown up from drinking before. You just kept your buzz going for a bit.

But, when you sat on the toilet and started going to the bathroom, you felt sweat start to bead on your face. "Aw, shit," you muttered.

You took a deep breath and stood up to wash your hands. As you were standing up, you started to get hot and your stomach started to hurt. The world seemed to spin a bit, too. So, after you washed your hands, you just laid down on the fluffy, light blue rug of the bathroom, breathing in and out slowly and occasionally groaning in pain.

Eventually, you decided to stand up, grab some water, and made your way to your room. Since you were already in your pajamas, you just went right to bed, after all, it was after midnight.

You laid in bed and tried to get the pain in your stomach to stop by changing positions and jamming your knee into your stomach.

Bad plan.

You felt the familiar feeling of a lump rising in your throat. But, you were so tired and buzzed that you hoped this wouldn't happen.

But, then it did, all the alcohol came up and out of your mouth, leaving you with the stale taste of margarita in your mouth and vomit all over your shirt and bedsheets.

God, you thought of just falling asleep right there. But, that was disgusting.

So, you grabbed your phone and made your way to the bathroom. You were still sweating, practically panting at this point while you leaned over the toilet, just trying to keep it down.

This was hell.

This had never happened before...and you had drank the same amount before.

Something was wrong.

Maybe it was the fact you just started a new acne medication a week ago. Yeah, that was probably it. It had to be that, it just had to be.

You heaved and then puked again.

Once you were finished, you grabbed your phone from the bathroom counter. You couldn't call Will. He was on shift and if he had to come, he'd most definitely tell Jay and then he'd never let you stay home alone overnight again.

So, you chose a different number: Kim Burgess.

"C'mon...pick up..." you muttered.

"Hello?"

Shit, that wasn't Kim. It was Adam. Had you called the wrong number? Were they sleeping together? You knew they were basically together, but to find out in this kind of way was kind of weird. Were they--

"Y/N? Hello?" Adam asked again.

"Y/N's calling?" you heard Kim say in the background.

You felt the familiar lump in your throat and puked again.

"Y/N! Are you okay? Are you there?" Adam asked frantically.

"Put it on speaker," you heard Kim say.

"Y/N, you're on speaker. What's going on?"

You wiped your mouth. "I- I drank too much and I'm on a new acne medication and I'm throwing up and I can't call Will because he's working and I don't know what to do," you rushed out before you could puke again. "Can you come over?"

"We'll be right there. Hang tight, kid," Adam said. "Me and Kim are on our way."

"You need us to stay on the phone, Y/N?" Kim asked.

"No, I- I should be fine until you get here."

"Okay, we'll be there soon."

One of the two hung up the phone and you started to feel hot again, but your stomach didn't hurt. And, even though laying on the rug of your bathroom with alcohol-smelling vomit on your shirt wasn't the best idea, you did it anyway because you were so tired.

***

"He's gotta be the stupidest person alive to put his spare key above his door. That's where everyone puts it. Dumbass," Adam said to Kim as they stood outside your apartment door.

"Adam, just open the damn door," Kim told him.

Adam reached the key and unlocked the door. "Alexa, play Drunk Face by Machine Gun Kelly," Adam joked.

"Adam! Not the time!"

Kim started walking around the apartment, trying to find you. "Y/N, where are you? It's Kim and Adam, no one's broken in. It's just us. We're here to help."

"Kim," Adam whispered. He nodded his head towards the bathroom door.

Kim threw herself to the floor and looked through the tiny crack. "She's in there. She's laying down."

Adam immediately went to open the door.

"Shit," he said when he saw you lying there with your eyes closed, vomit all on your shirt.

"Mhm, don't tell Will and Jay," you groaned.

"Oh thank God, she's conscious," Adam said.

"Y/N, can you stand up so we can get you out of these clothes? Maybe take a shower?" Kim suggested.

"Tired," you told her.

"I know, I know you're tired. But we have to get you out of these clothes before you can go to bed," Kim said. You groaned again. "How about Adam goes and grabs you a new shirt and then I help you into the shower. How does that sound?"

"Okay."

"Adam?"

"On it."

When Adam went to your room, he was immediately hit by the smell of vomit. You had planned on washing your sheets once you had cleaned yourself up, but you felt so bad, that you had just left it and figured you'd get to it when you finally got yourself up and out of the bathroom.

He quickly rifled through your dresser and found a t-shirt. Then, he went back upstairs to find the door closed, so he quickly knocked on it.

Kim had helped you take your shirt off and had thrown it in the sink. You were currently standing up, back facing her, as you waited for Adam to come back with your clean t-shirt.

"Babe, I grabbed the shirt. She okay in there?" Adam asked.

"Just about to take a shower," Kim answered. "Hand it to me when I open the door."

Kim opened the door and Adam handed her the shirt and then she handed it to you.

"Am I good to leave here, Y/N? Or do you need help?" Kim asked.

"I'll be fine," you told her. "But please don't tell Jay or Will."

"Y/N, you got drunk and went over your limits everyone does it. It's—"

"Please," you begged.

"Just, take a shower. We'll figure this out later."

"Okay."

Then, Kim left the bathroom and you took a shower.

"She puked on her bed," Adam said.

"She doesn't want us to tell Jay or Will," Kim said at the same time.

"Okay, wait," Adam started, "say yours again."

"She doesn't want us to tell Jay or Will," Kim said.

"Why not? Everyone does it at least once when they first start out drinking."

"I don't know. Maybe she didn't want to disappoint them?"

"Could be. So, do we tell them or not?"

"I mean, she asked us not to, and I don't think we should. She trusts us enough to call us, so I think we shouldn't break that trust."

"I guess you're right. But, we have another problem."

"And what's that?" Kim asked.

"She tossed her cookies on her sheets."

"Shit, okay," Kim sighed.

"Hey, thanks for coming," you said as you walked out of the bathroom five minutes later in clean pajamas. It's not like you had to wash your hair or anything, just your body.

"You're welcome," Kim said. She pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table and sat down. "Honey, Adam saw your sheets when he walked into your room to grab you a shirt. Do you need any help with that?"

"No, I was gonna clean it up and then I puked and I got hot and then I took a shower and—"

"Y/N, it's okay. We know you're exhausted because you just got all sick. So, how about you strip your bed and throw your sheets in the washer and me and Adam will make your bed. How's that sound?"

You nodded. "Thank you guys so much. And, you guys can take the margarita mix if you want. I never wanna taste that stuff again."

"Don't mind if we do."

"Adam!" Kim smacked him on the chest.

"What? Free alcohol."

"God, you're a college kid in a thirty-year-old's body."

"That's right. Now, let's get this college kid to bed."

***

"Ruz, where'd you get this?" Kevin asked when he saw the leftover margarita on Adam's desk that he brought to share with the unit.

"Oh, Y/N gave it to us when me and Kim went over to help her Friday night when she got shitfaced and puked all over," Adam answered casually.

Kim smacked his chest. "Adam!" She glanced over at Jay who was making his way over to them, an angry expression on his face.

"Y/N got shitfaced this weekend?" Jay asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave Adam a stern look.

"Well, it wasn't really shitfaced because she was still fully conscious and lucid. She was a bit buzzed, and she puked."

"And you know this how?"

"Jay," Kim started, "she did the right thing. She didn't know what to do, so she called an adult."

"She called both of you?" Jay asked.

"Well, uh, she called me but Adam picked up since we were at my apartment..." Kim trailed off.

"Gotcha," Jay said. "Well, I'm glad you helped her. Thanks for that. But me and Will will definitely be having a conversation with her tonight."

***

"So, how was Wisconsin?" you asked as you, Jay, and Will sat down to eat some paninis you and Jay had cooked up later that night.

"It was great," Jay answered.

"What'd you do?"

"Went on the boat, slept in, jumped off in the lake, Hailey made cinnamon rolls, the usual," Jay answered.

"Do you two remember when you guys had me jump off in the middle of the lake without a life jacket?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah," Will laughed. "We had our asses handed to us by Mom after that."

"We gonna jump off, Will?" Eight-year-old you asked your oldest brother who had just come home from college for summer break.

"Duh," Jay replied. "That's the best part, silly!"

"Yes! That's so much fun!" You grabbed your little life jacket and Jay helped you into the boat because sometimes you'd get scared you'd fall into the water in the space between the boat and the dock.

"When can I drive the boat?" you asked as you sat down next to Jay and Will sat in the captain's chair and started backing the boat out.

"When you're eighteen," Will answered.

"But that's ten years!" you protested. "That's too long!"

"It'll go by fast," Jay promised.

"No, it won't." Jay just laughed at your remark.

Ten minutes later, you were out in the middle of the lake and Will was dropping anchor while Jay set up the ladder.

Once that was all set, Jay jumped off the boat without a life jacket. You followed him, but with a life jacket of course. After a few jumps, you took your life jacket off while you took a sip of your red kool-aid. You didn't have to wear your life jacket unless you were in the water. The boys were currently standing on the boat about to jump off again, but they started whispering amongst the two of them.

"Hey, Y/N," Jay started, "What do you think about jumping off the boat without a life jacket?"

"So, like you Will? Like big kids?" you asked, cocking your head to the side.

"Exactly. Will would be in the water and I'd be up here and you'd just jump to him."

"I dunno. Mom and Dad always told me to wear my life jacket when I jump off. I don't wanna get in trouble."

"You won't."

Will jumped in the water and swam a bit further away than usual so you had room to jump in. "C'mon, Y/N! You've taken swimming lessons, you can do it!" he encouraged.

"I- I dunno, Will. How deep is it?"

"Um," he faltered. "Maybe ten of me?"

There's no way you'd be able to touch that!

"You'll be fine," Jay reassured. "Will will be right there. But, you gotta swim to him."

"He won't catch me? But, what if the water monsters get me and pull me under?"

"There's no water monsters," Jay told you.

But, if the water was as deep as Jay said it was, then how does he know?

"I changed my mind," you said quickly. "I want my life jacket back."

"Y/N, you'll be fine," Jay told you.

"No!" you wailed and reached for your life jacket, but Jay grabbed it and threw it in the water to Will.

"If you want it, you have to get it from Will," he told you."

"No!" your lip started to tremble and tears started to form in your eyes. "You get it!"

"Nope, it's yours. You get it."

"But you threw it!"

"And I'm gonna throw you in!"

You tried to run away, but it was too late. And, where would you go? You were on a boat after all.

"J--" You tried to yell, but you were already flying through the air and into the lake without a life jacket.

You hated the feeling of falling into the water without getting pulled back up immediately because of your life jacket. You had swallowed water, too so that wasn't helpful. You kicked your little legs as hard as you could to get back above the water, and when you did, you coughed and sputtered, trying to get the water out of your mouth and take in some much-needed air.

"Shit, Jay!" you heard Will yell as he quickly swam over to you with your life jacket and grabbed you by the waist. "Why'd you do that?" Then, he turned his attention to you. "It's okay, you're okay. Just breathe. I've got you. I've got you."

He set one hand on your back as you started climbing the ladder and then climbed up after you. Then, he shoved Jay in the water.

"What the hell, man?" Jay exclaimed when he broke the surface.

"Dude, I didn't know you were gonna throw her in! Mom's gonna kill you!"

"No, she's gonna kill us! You just swam there and let it happen!"

"You didn't jump off the boat without a parent there for a long time after that," Jay stated.

"And for good reason! I could've drowned!" you argued.

"Will was there. He would've gotten you."

"That's not the point! And I'm pretty sure that's the same logic Mom used when she took your car keys away from you for the rest of the summer and didn't let Will's girlfriend stay over when she was visiting him."

You ate your food for a bit and then Jay turned to you. "So, Y/N, we need to talk."

You gulped. There's no way Adam and Kim told him what happened! They promised!

"About what?" you asked.

"About you getting drunk on Friday night and calling Kim and Adam because you got sick," Jay explained.

"I don't know what you're--"

"Cut the bullshit. Adam told us in the bullpen today. So, I suggest you explain what happened."

So, you explained because you knew not to argue with Jay when he used that tone.

"Y/N, do you know about proofs on alcohol?" Jay asked.

"No, what are those?"

"It's the amount of alcohol in a drink. For example, seltzers typically have 3-5% alcohol in them, but margaritas like the one you apparently bought that Adam has now, has about 19% alcohol."

You widened your eyes. "So, I can't just go on how many glasses I'm drinking?"

"No way. Why do you think shots come in tiny glasses? Because they have lots of alcohol in a small volume."

"Oh, oops. Sorry."

"Y/N," Will started, "This isn't an oops thing. You could've seriously died from that if you kept drinking." You furrowed your eyebrows. "There's this thing called alcohol poisoning. It's when you drink too much alcohol in a short amount of time, so your body can't filter it in your liver fast enough. And, you just got on a new acne medication, so that's also filtered in your liver. Because of this, your liver's working overtime, which could be why you didn't feel super drunk but still threw up."

"Oh, okay." You knew you sounded dismissive, but you were embarrassed about what you'd done.

"Don't you get that this was dangerous?" Jay asked. "You could've died if you kept going!"

"Jay--"

"No, she needs to know this, Will. If you kept drinking, then you could've gotten seriously sick and had to go to the hospital! That's why bartenders cut people off: so they don't get sick because people can die from alcohol poisoning!"

"I'm sorry, okay! I'm embarrassed because I didn't think I even had that much and I didn't even know what a proof was!"

Jay's eyes softened. "Y/N, we're just trying to protect you. Why do you think we told you all that stuff about not leaving your drink unattended at a bar or watching the bartender make your drink and not just taking it from someone? It's because we're trying to keep you safe, Short Stack."

You nodded. "You're right. I really am sorry. And, you don't have to worry about me drinking a lot until I'm off that medication...or ever really."

Will chuckled. "Yeah, we figured as much."

A/N: I threw a few requests together and this is what I came up with. I wrote this in a day btw. (Also, I did get drunk like this once and I'm pretty sure it was because of the combination of the acne medication and the alcohol. Always drink responsibly and only drink if you're of the legal drinking age.) Anyway, thanks for reading and please reblog/like and comment and tell me what you think! As, always, just tell me if you want to be added to my taglist and I'll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies@brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch

[whumpmatsus]

So. Todomatsu always ACTS like he hates that Karamatsu is so eccentric, but we all know he actually doesn't mind that much. If anyone else made fun of him for that stuff, I can't help but think he wouldn't let it fly. So what about a situation where Karamatsu gets made fun of/bullied/put down by someone OUTSIDE the family for being the way he be and Todomatsu gets an opportunity to go into full protective mode over him??

OH SHIT the youngest of them goes feral

dare I say... RELEASE THE BABY!!!!!

God I love Zaimoku, it’s so good <3

-

If Totty is being completely, utterly, unfailingly honest with himself, his brothers need his help if one of them is going to be going on a date.

Really, he’s the only one who has any clue about how to act on a date! He could hit his big brothers over the head with a Clue-by-four with that shit and they still wouldn’t really get it.

Even so… part of him thinks he shouldn’t really be following Karamatsu to a date. Karamatsu is the one Totty knows is never going to come running to him for advice or assistance, especially with girls; he’s got the undeserved ego of an avocado toast sandwich. Totty isn’t sure he’d be pleased to know his baby brother tagged along not because he has to sort out a schedule thing at work, but because he wants to keep an eye on Karamatsu.

What else is he supposed to do, though? Just let Karamatsu go alone and totally blow it? His usual behavior aside, Totty really wants his big brothers to be happy and have fulfilling relationships. He thinks if he can be there to keep an eye on things, well, maybe it won’t go so bad. Maybe Karamatsu will have a shot with this woman. Maybe he’ll get a girlfriend!

The very idea was enough to make him feel a little better about lying so that his brother will take him along. It eases his conscience, imagining that if he manages to help Karamatsu out to the point that the second eldest ends up in a loving, joyful relationship, (obviously as opposed to the past few horrible ones he’s had), then a little fib isn’t so bad, is it?

After all, if he were the one in need of something like this, he’d be grateful for his brothers’ help however they did it.

Of course, when he sees the look this girl gives Karamatsu, a look like the kind a baby gives after licking a lemon for the first time, Totty can’t help but wince. This isn’t off to a great start. He lingers by the counter, greeting Sacchi and Aida, trying not to look as if he’s watching his big brother’s date.

“Aren’t you off today, Totty?” Sacchi hums as she turns to start making a drink.

He nods. “Yeah, well, I can’t stay away, I guess, haha.”

Aida jerks her head toward the table where Karamatsu and his date are. “That’s one of your brothers, right? Still as painful as ever,” she teases. “Is he… oh, my God, he’s on a date??”

“Shhhh, shh!” Totty waves his hands a little, hoping to get his friends to quiet down a little. The last thing Karamatsu needs is to be drawing attention. “He thinks I tagged along to talk to you guys about my schedule. But, yes, he’s here on a date.”

Sacchi finishes serving her customer, one of the few in the shop at the moment, and then leans against the counter to look over. “Aw, good for him. He’s not either of our types, but he deserves a shot with someone who’s interested.”

He lets out a soft sigh. “Agreed there. I kind of just wanna keep an eye on him, you know? To make sure he doesn’t mess it up too much. He should have let me pick his outfit, ugh… that aside, he’s doing okay so far, though, I think.”

Aida frowns as she slides a cup of coffee toward her coworker. “Um, I hate to burst your bubble, but he’s got his work cut out for him. I’ve been to some mixers with that girl, and she always finds something wrong with every guy she hangs out with.”

“She’s right,” Sacchi adds. “Good thing you came along so you can carry him home, ‘cause that girl’s gonna tear him to pieces. I mean, she went out with Atsushi and the next day he was in here crying and telling me she made him feel two inches tall. Nobody’s good enough for her.”

Aida clicks her tongue. “Your big brother’s in big trouble, Totty.”

It’s Totty’s turn to frown as he looks toward Karamatsu. Unfortunately, Sutabaa is so small and he’s close enough that he doesn’t have to strain too much to hear what’s being said.

The woman is laughing. However… Karamatsu hasn’t even really opened his mouth yet. “Oh, my God! You’re my date, huh? Last time I let my sister set me up. That bitch, haha. Ah, well… wow, your jacket is hurting my eyes. Could you take it off?”

Karamatsu seems to be trying his best to smile. “O-oh, yes, of course.” He moves to tug it off, folding it over the back of his chair. “Please forgive me. Anyway, my name is Karamatsu. And you, my angel?”

“Ahaha, WHAT?” The woman raises an eyebrow at him. “C’mon, dude. Don’t call me that. I’m nobody’s angel.”

Totty feels himself starting to steam. You’ve got that right.

“A-ah… right, my apologies.” Karamatsu just keeps smiling. The expression on his face reads almost like he’s in pain. “Well, should we order?”

She gives a cursory glance toward the menu, then suddenly her eyes are drawn to Karamatsu again. “Oh, my God, hold on… is… is that your face on your shirt?! Holy shit! Are you really that full of yourself?”

Totty’s heart sinks as his brother’s cheeks flush bright red. This is not going well. And while, yes, Karamatsu probably should have picked a different shirt, what’s really wrong with what he’s wearing? Even though he’s a little over-the-top and dramatic, this woman can’t know whether or not he’s ‘full of himself’ when she’s barely letting him get a word in.

Totty is the most socially intelligent of his brothers, and even he doesn’t think Karamatsu’s actually doing anything wrong. He hasn’t drawn anyone else’s attention like he usually does, he hasn’t gone overboard with any poses, and he’s… kind of just being himself, slightly toned down. It’s not like he’s bragging or being a jerk. Hell, it’s just a strange fashion choice; how the hell does she think it has any bearing on what he’s like as a person?

“Damn,” Sacchi cringes. “She’s not wasting any time, is she?”

Aida gives a pout toward her friends. “He didn’t even do anything wrong yet. He’s been a perfect gentleman.”

“Yeah, he’s just a little odd and, like, a tiny bit painful. But he’s acting really nice and polite.” Sacchi sighs as she props her head up on her hand. “There’s no pleasing some people. Aida, why don’t you go take their order? Maybe you can accidentally spill it on that pretentious top of hers when you bring it to them.”

“Pfff, if only. I’m on it, though.”

Totty continues to fume as he watches his poor brother try to impress this girl, pretty much in vain. He gets the feeling that nothing Karamatsu says or does is going to be good enough. For some reason, that really pisses him off. Despite the fact that Karamatsu can be a bit much, that he’s overcompensating for being insecure on the inside, that everyone rolls their eyes at him… Karamatsu isn’t a bad guy. He tries hard to make other people happy and treats them with respect. Even his brothers who don’t always return the favor.

By the point Sacchi and Aida are finished making their order, the youngest is ready to explode at this woman. She never even told Karamatsu her name, but she’s spent the whole time talking him down. When she asked what he did ‘besides be super excruciating’, and he told her he didn’t really have a job, she laughed at him. He tried to save it by saying he occasionally played guitar at coffee shops, and she responded something along the lines of, “What kind of hipster loser does that these days??”

Listening to it just makes him so angry. She doesn’t think Karamatsu is attractive, she’s called him embarrassing more than once, and no matter what he does or says, she’s not happy with it. Why the fuck did she even bother going out with him, then?

Totty was worried that Karamatsu was going to screw this up; so far he’s actually managed to be a decent date. He wasn’t prepared for his brother’s date to be the shitty one.

Sacchi brings him a simple iced coffee while Aida returns with the serving tray, a fake smile on her face from laughing uncomfortably at one of the woman’s comments. “God, she’s exhausting.”

“I don’t even know her and I can’t stand her,” Totty mutterrs before taking a sip of his drink. “Why the hell is she treating him like that? He’s just… being himself!”

Being himself. Karamatsu’s really not doing anything wrong. He’s trying to talk himself up when this woman gives him a chance to, but who doesn’t talk themself up on a first date? He just wants to impress her.

It makes Totty feel a little guilty to realize that, honestly, all Karamatsu really wants is to impress everyone because he wants people to like him… including his brothers. If Karamatsu feels the need to seek love and acceptance from strangers like this girl, to the point that he’s willing to put up with the horrible way she’s treating him, what does that say about his brothers? It’s not the first time he’s sucked it up and dealt with something he shouldn’t have from someone just because he wants that person to love him.

His attention is drawn by the woman giggling a little too loudly. “Fuck, you wanna go out with me again? I mean, how do you think this is going? I’m two seconds away from sneaking out the bathroom window. You’re so obnoxious, you dress like an edgy middle schooler, and who wears sunglasses inside, especially when it’s raining outside? You’re, like, cringe incarnate.”

Completely contradicting every statement she made, she slid her hand across the table to take his, if only for a brief moment. The wicked look in her eyes, more sadistic than even Ichimatsu, made Totty’s stomach twist in anger. “I might keep you around, though. You seem like a guy who’d keep me laughing for a while. Maybe next time I’ll take you out with my friends so everyone can laugh at you.”

Oh, that’s it.

He doesn’t know if Karamatsu is oblivious to what she means because he’s blinded and deafened by the promise of another date, or if he knows exactly what she means but perhaps thinks it’s worth it. His eyes light up… and behind that hopeful spark is the pain she’s already put him through.

Baby of the bunch though he is, Totty isn’t going to sit around and twiddle his thumbs while some bitch takes advantage of his big brother.

“Oh, that is sooooo not happening!” he calls as he approaches the table. Although he feels a little bad about just stepping in like this, he’s not gonna let her get away with treating Karamatsu like that. Laughing at him herself was bad enough; parading him in front of her friends for all of them to laugh at him when there’s nothing wrong with Karamatsu isn’t gonna happen if Totty has something to say about it.

The woman gives him an unimpressed look. “Who the fuck are you?”

“T-Totty!!” Karamatsu,  on the other hand, looks immediately panicked. “I can handle this… please, go back and fix your schedule, and I’ll meet you at home.”

“Wait, you work here?” She tilts her head at him. “Oh, shit, hold up. You’re the asshole who messed up my drink last time I was here.” Her gaze flits between the two of them, and she laughs again.

“― Oh, my God! You had to bring your twin brother along to come on a date? You’re pathetic!” Her hand pulls away from Karamatsu’s. “Oh, you’re definitely coming out with me and my friends.”

Totty hisses and pushes her hand away from Karamatsu’s. He steps in front of his big brother to physically block this woman from him. “Keep your hands off him! You’re not taking him anywhere. He’s never seeing you again, because you treated him like… like, fuck, I wouldn’t treat a rock the way you treated him!”

He hears Karamatsu make a noise of almost-protest behind him; he can just imagine the other man sinking down in his seat and trying to hide his face. “Totty, please…”

“No! No, she doesn’t get to just treat you like dirt, Karamatsu-nii-san! You think my brother’s just some kind of dumbass you can show off to your friends and laugh at and treat him like crap?!” he snarls. “Well, guess what? He may be sort of a dumbass sometimes, and maybe he’s a little painful, and maybe he’s not the perfect guy you’re looking for! But he’s a whole hell of a better person than you are!”

Although Totty could kick himself for not saying anything to Karamatsu before, it might be best it’s coming out now. He doesn’t have a lot of time to really think about it or pretend or rehearse. What he’s saying isn’t practiced, it’s real. “Karamatsu is the kindest person I know, and you wish you had at least half the passion he does for the things he likes! Who cares that he wears a shirt with his own face on it? He was bending over backwards to make you happy, even though everything out of your mouth was word barf about how embarrassing he is! And, by the way, you’re wrong!”

It only takes half a step for him to reach over to grab his coffee from the counter, assisted by Aida who’s smirking as she holds it out for him. “If my choice was between you or him, I’d be way less embarrassed to be seen in public with him than with you! He’s not perfect, but he cares about people, and he’s always there when you need him, and ― and all this stuff you think is embarrassing, who the hell gives a shit?! It’s what he wants to do and it’s not hurting anyone! I’d break my phone before I let my big brother go out with someone like you again! Maybe he keeps striking out with dates, but he’s never going to be that desperate!”

He feels a little bad about what he’s about to do. That feeling is mitigated by the fact that at least his coffee isn’t hot.

“And, you know, I actually am sorry about messing up your drink last time. So here, you can have mine!” Almost before he’s finished speaking, he’s dumped his entire cup over her head.

He doesn’t stick around to deal with the aftermath aside from seeing the look of abject horror on the woman’s face as the coffee makes her bad mascara drip. And even though there’s a little bit of guilt over the fact that he’s leaving his coworkers to deal with her, the fact that Sacchi and Aida are cackling while they gather up napkins eases his mind.

He grabs Karamatsu by the hand and leads him out, tossing his coffee cup on the way. There’s not much choice on Karamatsu’s part, except he doesn’t particularly look as if he minds that.

“You didn’t… have to do that, Totty,” Karamatsu mumbles. When Totty glances over, the second eldest looks more tired than anything. He knows that look; the exhaustion of something not working out, of thinking you had a chance only for it to all go up in smoke.

Totty huffs, marching the two of them in the direction that leads back home. “Of course I did! You weren’t going to do it, so someone had to. God… you’ve gotta stop letting people walk all over you, Karamatsu-nii-chan.”

The shift to the more affectionate honorific suggests to Karamatsu that this is really, truly something Totty cares about. He squeezes his baby brother’s hand with a thoughtful hum. “… If that’s the case, perhaps a romance for me just isn’t in the cards. I… really thought it was going to go somewhere this time.”

At last Totty slows slightly, from an aggressive pace to something a little calmer. He’s still pissed off that someone treated Karamatsu like that, and although he’s a bit upset that Karamatsu sit there and let it happen, he knows what it’s like to want people to like you so much that you’ll put up with nearly anything.

However, that’s also the reason he doesn’t want Karamatsu just putting up with it. He deserves so much better than to have people treat him like dirt. It’s not right to do that to anybody, but… especially not to Totty’s big brother.

“I’m sorry I kind of… tapped into Murder Totty in there,” he sighs. “Did I go overboard?”

Karamatsu shrugs. “Maybe a little. But I wasn’t truly enjoying myself and I didn’t want to go on another date with her. I just… didn’t know how to tell her no. I suppose I really am lucky you were there, too.”

Silence falls between them while they walk, then after a moment, Karamatsu clears his throat. “Totty… did you… mean all those things?”

“Huh? All what things?”

“Those things, you know… you said I was… kind and passionate and reliable.” He lets out a soft laugh. “You… you said you’d rather break your phone than let me go out with her again.”

… Oh. He. Did say that, didn’t he?

He pouts a bit, then squeezes Karamatsu’s hand. “Yeah, I meant it. Of course I meant it.”

Beat.

“But as much as I love you, I’m just glad I don’t have to do that.”

[kimageddon]

Star Wars Fics - Part 2

Wow I got a lot of love for that first part. I didn't even have a solid plan for it, it just sort of happened. But as requested, there is indeed a part 2 so here you go!

Tech x f!Reader

Part 1

The Reception

So far so good. The wedding ceremony was done and all you had to do was keep an eye out during the reception. You and the boys… all dolled up and looking for bad guys. Yep… that’s all it was. Just work. Just… work. You were handed a glass of bubbling clear liquid and from the first sip you knew there was alcohol in it. Now… on the job was not for drinking. But even as you tried to pretend, one sip became two. Became three… became half a glass… and then you had a second glass. It was just part of the act of course. No other reason. You took another sip.

“Might want to slow down on those, Feisty.” Echo muttered beside you, making you jump slightly.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You replied as you cleared your throat. “If I didn’t have a sip occasionally people might get suspicious.”

“Occasional sip huh? Is that your fourth glass?” He smirked, scanning the guests carefully. Currently Hunter was by the bar, Crosshair had claimed a particularly comfortable spot of wall to lean on, Wrecker and Omega were walking around the outside perimeter… and Tech… you were painfully aware of the presence of the last member of your crew. He was behind you. You were thankful for that at least, that way you didn’t have to make more awkward eye contact.

“It’s only my second.” You huff in reply. “I’m… not a fan of weddings.” No need to explain everything, in all honesty the boys didn’t know much about you, your past, your choices.

“Could have fooled me.” Echo let out a deep chuckle, leaning a little closer. You slowly turned to look at him, your brow twitching slightly.

“And what do you mean by that?” You ask quietly.

“Oh I don't know… you just seemed a little distracted earlier…” You can feel him smirking without looking at him.

“You’re as bad as Hunter. There is nothing wrong with me, I am not distracted. Let’s just get this mission done and go home. Then I can drink as much as I want without you judging me.” You huff and Echo just laughs.

“If you say so, Feisty.” He pets your shoulder as he turns away. You bristle, you know Echo is looking out for you but… oh what does he know? Gathering as much grace as you can muster, you sweep past the dancefloor and out onto the balcony. Its growing late, and you are itching to head back to Ord Mantell, grab some Mantell Mix with Wrecker and Omega maybe, they’d allowed you to join them the last few times so you hoped they’d let you tag along again. You leant on the railing overlooking a wide garden, the place was stunning of course, but that didn’t mean the danger was gone. It was hard to feel battle ready in a dress like this, the entire back to the waist was transparent mesh, a line of buttons up your spine. A jewelled detail in the centre between your breasts and sweeping purple fabric trailed down to your toes. Your hair was curled and hung over one shoulder, a far cry from the usual updo you kept when you had to hide it under your helm. The sun was setting in the distance, and while you paid it little attention, the man now standing behind you was drinking in the way the golden light reflected off your hair.

“I--” He began but got nowhere before you turned. Your eyes widen suddenly. You’d recognised the voice even before you moved but instinct had taken hold. There was Tech, a few feet from you, looking ever so dashing in his suit and eyes that felt like they looked right through you.

“Oh… is-is there an update?” You stammer pathetically, you hadn’t been expecting to talk to him so soon. He blinked before seeming to snap back to attention.

“Erm… oh, yes.” He nodded and looked back to the comm device in his hand. He’d kept it in his coat this whole time, you guessed and came out to check without anyone noticing. “The signals have been rather steady through the evening, I am not picking up any disturbances along the outer perimeter.” He stepped over, now focused on the screen. Of course, there was no way that he wasn’t totally focused on the mission. As you ought to be as well. He had just been surprised you were out here. Your eyes were drawn to the screen as he pointed out the signal and a fluctuation he had been worried about, though it turned out to be a false alarm. You chuckled lightly and you saw him look up at you out of the corner of your eye.

“You always have everything under control, don’t you?” You murmur. How did he always seem so calm, so unaffected by everything? You tried to be like that, but your emotions slipped out too often.

“Not… everything.” He confessed. You looked up and instantly regretted it. You hadn’t realised how close you’d gotten when looking at the screen and now Tech and his stunning eyes the colour of warm leather were right there. Inches away from your face.

“Wha-what do you mean?” You ask. Your eyes wander his face, he looks flushed, and his lip is trembling. Your concern grows and you stand up fully, stepping in front of him with a slight frown, both hands come up to cup his cheeks. “Tech, are you okay?” You ask, mostly concerned for him, you hadn’t seen him like this before.

“Of-of course-of course I am.” You leaned in closer, your eyes full of concern.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Feisty…” Now he sounded out of breath.

“You know I would be terribly upset if something happened to you.” There was a slight pause as he raised his free hand to yours against his face, a little bashful smile on his lips as he avoided eye contact.

“And I, you.” He replied. Your heart ached. He was so sweet. Your eyes lingered on him, the way he nervously flicked his gaze over you, the way his lip twitched slightly as though trying to suppress a smile. His skin was warm and though he was still flushed, he didn’t seem like he was in any pain or anything. Maybe he’d had a sip of the wine too?

Before you knew what was happening, the gap between the two of you grew smaller, your lashes fluttered against his cheek as your eyes closed, and your lips pressed to his slowly, gently. A kiss full of admiration and affection. His hand gripped yours a little firmer and you felt your stomach tighten. Heat bloomed in the touch and it was like there was some music playing that only you could hear as his mouth moved against yours. You’d heard about fireworks when lovers kissed but you’d never felt it before… until now.

Suddenly a loud cheer from inside the ballroom startled the two of you apart. Apparently the wedding guests were partaking in another toast. Thats right. The wedding. The mission. You were meant to be paying attention. Not out here kissing one of your squadmates. Wait. Oh no. You kissed Tech. You kissed Tech! No no no! This was unprofessional! This was wrong! You weren’t supposed to do this with colleagues, it was dangerous to get involved. Not only that, Tech never asked for this, probably didn’t want this. He stood there with wide eyes, looking as horrified as you felt. All these thoughts slammed through your mind in a second before you tore yourself away.

“I’m sorry…!” You gasped, it was a weak apology. You felt a little dirty, there was no way he would have wanted that, not really. You just surprised him. No no no! This was not how things were supposed to happen!

A quick stop to the refresher to make sure you didn’t look dishevelled or out of place and you were back to work. You buried the awkward encounter and decided to pretend it never happened. This was going to be a long night.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just a quick question, dou you guys prefer 'reader' interactions or OC's? I am not used to writing in the second person, and I am more used to chreating a character and the backstory etc. I can easily write it as 'she' and 'her' and give her an appearance etc. Anyway let me know your thoughts on that.

If you want more or want to be tagged in this series or my other works, lmk in comments.

Tag list: @eyecandyeoz @fallenrepublick @ashotofspotchka @sunipostsstuff @shuttlelauncher81 @1fineslytherin @cosmicsierra

[angrylizardjacket]

it's in the blood // this is tradition

Summary: Children inherit all sorts of traits from their parents. Not all these traits are good.

"My reputation preceded me before I was born."

[ charlotte & lola au ]

A/N: 2292 words. Halsey's new album killed me on the spot. i talk a lot about the next gen being mirrors of their parents, but i'd like to go into detail about that not necessarily being a positive. @misscharlottelee this made me feel things. i love these kids.

Warnings: overdose mention, addiction discussion, mentions of drug abuse.

Penelope Dingley-Lee

Tommy can count the amount of times he'd seen Razzle truly angry on one hand, and here and now he can see it again, written all over his neice's face. He'd thought she would look like Charlie when she's angry, and occasionally she does, the way her lip curls derisively, dismissively, that's very reminiscent of his cousin, but here and now, her blue eyes are hazy, cloudy, and her lips twist with an irate arrogance that is worryingly familiar.

Angry and high and wearing clothes that don't quite match, in this moment she's exactly her father's daughter.

She's been in the papers again. Her tits have been in magazines again. Tommy bites down on his instinctual desire to repremand her; she'd call him a hypocrite, call him an old man, tell him to keep his opinions to himself while she could still buy his sex tape out of a shady car boot down the street.

Charlie was like that too, on occasion, wit too quick for him to keep up with. When she got into a mood like this, Tommy didn't have to worry so much; usually Razzle would egg her on, but knew when to pull her back.

"It's my god given, motherfucking right to go feral -" he'd heard Charlie back in the eighties holler at three in the morning, high on amphetamines and waving a gossip rag above her head. Razzle would be on the sofa, equally fucked up, but gazing at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

"Lola gets photographed at least once a month stark naked along the strip like it's a sport, why is my Playboy shoot a national crisis?! My tits are fantastic!"

"They are, my love," Razzle nods seriously, and Tommy pulls his pillow from beneath his head, trying to either block out their voices through the thin walls, or maybe smother himself. The girl beside him, the groupie whose name he doesn't know, asks blearily why there's so much yelling. Tommy doesn't answer.

A week later, Tommy is the one to bail out Charlie and Razzle for public indecency, and they're both beaming from ear to ear.

Here in the present, Penny is draped out on the sofa, laughing low and pleased as she watches TV.

"TMZ blurred out my tits," she snorts, "cowards."

"Penny..." he can't help the faintly disappointed notes in his voice when he says her name.

"Thomas, I've read The Dirt," Penny fires back venemously. Hypocrite he hears in her tone, you have no power over me.

There's something hollow in her eyes in the photos he sees of her in the papers. She wears her father's inflluence and her heart on her crushed velvet sleeve, on the arm of a shallow, pretty, band boy who plays badly and loudly. But she laughs louder, though tthe sound is low and unconvincing if anyone bothered to listen hard enough, and Tommy wonders if he has enough dark hair dye left for when that boy breaks her heart.

Jupiter Lee

Tommy is proud to watch Jupiter on stage, but he is afraid.

Their anger is something he remembers from Lola, the way they cling to the past with vitriol echoes their mother, but on stage, they drink up the attention, get high off the love the audience gives, and he sees himself in those moments.

A child of addicts, Jupiter had drawn lines in the sand for themselves that they refused to cross; no alcohol, no drugs, and they'd stayed loyal to that. But highs come in all forms; they simply picked a different kind of poison without realising.

On stage, halfway between the gutter and a god complex, Tommy knows the smile they wear all too well.

Rebellion from Jupiter didn't shock the world like it did when it was Penny's name in the papers. Jupiter's trajectory was spot on in the eyes of the public, but rebellion wouldn't be the thing that broke them.

Once, so long ago that it's a miracle the memory survived, Tommy remembers asking Lola what she would be doing if she wasn't with the band. Lola gave him an easy, bleary smile, laughing sweetly when she told him that one way or another, she'd be here. In the moment it overwhelms him with love. In hindsight it breaks his heart.

"Come on, I think this is inevitable," Jupiter smiles on television as an interviewer asks them the same question; if they weren't making music what they'd be doing, "as if I'd do anything other than this."

'Don't you know where I come from?' is left unspoken, but Tommy still hears it.

He tries to picture himself in a life without the world at his feet the way he has now. No image comes to mind. Nothing else makes sense. Even if he wanted to do something else, wanted to grow up to be something else, he couldn't even begin to picture it for himself, tragedy and all.

They play their parts. They let history repeat itself. Jupiter makes mistakes Tommy and Lola had already learned from. Penny plays Jupiter's conciousness until the role grates on her nerves, diving head first into chaos, taking Jupiter with her with little convincing.

Tommy remembers this too.

When the world looks at Penny and Jupiter, they like to remember how Lola was seen as a bad influence on Charlotte, but forget that Tommy would have followed Charlotte in to Hell without hesitation.

Leo "Seo" Sixx

Lola has google alerts set up for her son, Seo, because he disappears for months without warning. Tommy asks how he is, and Lola looks to her phone with a tight smile, telling him that he's competeing in a skateboarding competition in Prague. She learned that from Twitter.

Seo comes and goes without warning, and talks to his siblings more than his parents. He loves them, but he hasn't allowed himself to stop for years. He doesn't know how. Then again, neither did Lola or Nikki.

"Jupiter thinks a lot about legacy, don't they?" He's in Tommy's kitchen, eating a poptart, when Tommy returns home one friday evening. He's waiting for Penny and Jupiter to finish getting ready, the three of them going out.

"Do your parents know you're in town?" Tommy asks with faint amusement, though there's a twinge of guilt in his gut when Leo considers that he should probably let them know. Says he forgot. Tommy's not sure if he believes him; like his parents before him, he tends to leave a lot unsaid. It's part of his charm, the world seems to think, but Tommy knows all to well how deliberate of an act it can be.

"Jup's got all this stuff in their head about legacy and who they should be," he continues his earlier thought, "which I guess makes sense, they tie a lot of themselves up in their identity," he shrugs, then, "I don't know Leo."

Tommy's not sure if he's talking about the grandfather he's named after, or himself.

"You've given this a lot of thought," Tommy says quietly, humouring him.

"I think a lot," Seo responds, "I've been thinking about going back on my meds, its weird being off of them." Of course this concerns Tommy, who knows objectively that Seo isn't his kid, but he's close enough that Tommy feels like he's allowed to be concerned. "I'm worried a doctor's note isn't going to be enough to let me compete at the Olympics on speed," falls too casually from Seo's lips, alarming Tommy in an instant. Though it must clearly show on his face, as Seo breaks out into an apologetic grin, "dextroamphetamine, for my ADHD. I've been trying to wean off it for the Olympics, it's been hard -" but his next words, said so blithe, so casual, have Tommy's heart stopping in his chest as he's thrown back thirty years, "I've been on them since I was like eleven years old; it was great, I could think, like the right amount, but now I... I think everything. I feel everything. Its a lot." He shrugs, like he didn't just become an echo of his father.

Seo's parents both died twice from overdoses, and now their son feels like he can't function without amphetamines.

Objectively Tommy knows that they work for Seo, that he's not abusing them he simply uses them to help him function, but the irony is not lost on him. It's a lot to unpack. He doesn't think to ask about the Olympics; it slips his mind until he sees Seo and a silver medal on his Twitter feed.

Lola calls Tommy in tears. She's proud, but she wishes she'd known, wishes she'd been able to watch it live, or go over and support him in person.

No-one in Seo's life seems to fully know or understand his intentions or actions, no-one can predict his next move. He puts up a bright facade, but like his parents before him, he does not trust the world to know him.

They don't know where he goes in the few months after the Olympics, all they know is that he doesn't come home.

Cerie "CerieThree" Sixx

Since she'd turned sixteen, Tommy has never seen Cerie Sixx without a smile. That is a very deliberate choice that she's made.

She's made a choice to rise above the percieved grime of her origins. She's halfway across the country, smiling for a camera she can control, editing her image before she lets it out into the world. Cerie Three - even the name the world knows reflects this; she's picked apart the context she was born into, disecting it, deciding which was useful to show the world, disposing of the rest.

She speaks warmly to her family, from what Tommy can gather, but the people on the peripheries of their life seem more like associates in the coldest sense of the world. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes half the time when she sees Tommy, and she shakes his hand when her brothers will hug him. The internet is closer to her than he is.

Cerie looks the most like her mother of all her siblings; she's 21, the exact same age Lola was when she met Tommy, but half the time he can barely see the resemblence. Lola had let the world see a villain at that age; Cerie had learned from that, had rejected that, rejected the cold, hard humanity of her mother's fronting. Cerie wanted to be perfect. Cerie had to be perfect, hyper aware of her own image, like her siblings seem to be, but the way she'd so effectively shaped her public identity was kind of terrifying.

Perhaps this was what it was like for people who didn't know Lola, only allowed to know the image she put out into the world, or people who only knew Nikki for his stage presence.

But the more Tommy thinks about it, the more he remembers just how effectively Lola had wrapped the band around her little finger when she set her mind to it, how she talked her way around exectives despite being dressed like she'd woken up in the gutter and fucked up on any number of drugs. Lola understood people, and it seemed Cerie did too.

Cerie Sixx, twenty one, doesn't stop creating content, doesn't stop studying, and doesn't stop smiling. Two of those three things are inhereted traits, inhereted determination, and the third is a choice.

Cyrus Sixx

Though Cyrus had inhereted much of his parent's musical talent, the same way Jupiter had, Cyrus had also inhereted a love of the high life. Even so, he's so full of love, kissing his mother on both cheeks before he goes out to get shitfaced in the bars she was decades before he was even born.

He works hard, at his job, on his music, but his partying matches it just as well. He knows exactly how far he has to fall before he meets the depths his parents' had sunk to, and though he doesn't voice this, his arrogance comes across in his actions.

There'd always be someone to pull him away from swan diving to rock bottom. He takes that for granted, and keeps getting closer and closer.

The only one of Nikki and Lola's children who still lives at home, he's the only one like them in the way they'd feared.

"He's going to have more success than he will ever be able to comprehend," Nikki had told Tommy, the day after Cyrus had been admitted to hospital after staying up for four days while high and obsessing over a song he had been working on. Nikki had found him having a fit after having fallen from his desk chair. Now, sitting on Tommy's patio in the sunset, he looks tired, he looks afraid, "if he doesn't end up killing himself first."

A month ago, the fire department and the police had to pull him, kicking and screaming and bareass naked from a tree in the middle of town. His parents had bailed him out, had felt a familiar sting of guilt as they find themselves reminded of their own youthful exploits. They repremand him, of course, but they both know the only reason they stopped climbing trees was because there had been no-one to pick them up after.

Nikki sees himself in his sons mistakes, but he'd had to learn concequences the hard way.

Tommy loves his family and all it's strange branches, as well as their raucous youth, but his closest friends were some of the most volatile people he'd known, and somehow he'd forgotten that as time as taken people and memories from him.

But these children were made in their image.

[serenasoutherlyns]

Not a Summer Crush Part Five

a/n: i haven't been doing this on purpose, but i keep alternating, long chapter followed by short chapter. i think the longest is 6k words and this one is 2.5k-ish, my apologies for its shortness. but!! this one has everyone's favorite Rita Calhoun, jealousy, Serena Southerlyn's meddling tactics, middle school, and even graduate school. enjoy, and remember any feedback is appreciated more than you all could ever know.

Part Five

When Alex got home from work that evening, she finally had a moment to process that day’s moment on the courthouse steps. She texted Serena, trying to fit all the pieces together in her head.

Alex: What the hell?

Serena: ?

Alex: Serena!

Serena: Yes?

She gave up on coherent texting and decided to call her friend instead.

---

Casey was confusing herself again. Having second thoughts was not how she would put it. No, she was still sure of what she wanted (as sure as she was going to be, doing something very new and all), it was the methods that were bothering her. Namely, that she felt like she had none.

Alex had been difficult early on. The beginning was, in most respects, the most difficult time of their relationship. They had both been in rough patches, trying to be different people than they’d been before, and Casey thought, hoped, they’d both been successful. Alex had found a sense of balance and justice that guided her to powerful places. And Casey could look around her life and point lots of little things out: the tennis racquet beside her softball bat, their well-stocked kitchen, the literary journals lined up in a row on her bookshelf, little markers of stability and self-assuredness that reminded her how she’d changed and stayed the same over the years. She hadn’t felt this untethered since she kissed Alex for the first time.

“Casey, it’s called having a crush,” Rita said after she explained herself over a scotch.

---

“What’s going on, Alex?” Serena’s voice came over the speakerphone as Alex set it down on the countertop.

“Do you want to tell me why you asked my second chair out on the courthouse steps in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday?”

Serena laughed at her. “I don’t think I did,” she said.

“Hey, Caroline,” Alex mocked Serena’s slightly husky voice, “Won’t you please reserve me a spot on your dance card this weekend?” She said as she popped the cork out of a bottle of wine with an angry pop as punctuation.

“I don’t talk like that,” Serena said. “And all I did was tell her I wanted to dance, I don’t think I asked her for anything, in fact.”

“I don’t remember it like that.”

“So it’s on your mind, huh.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my god.” Alex thought of what to say as she sipped.

“I mean,” Serena filled the silence, “If you aren’t going to, I will, you know?”

“Serena!” Alex all but yelled into the phone.

“Uh-huh,” she replied, “that’s what I thought.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I wasn’t

asking her out, I was giving you a reason to go dancing with her again.

“I don’t follow.”

“Sure you don’t. Look, I’ll make a groupchat with you, Casey, me and Caroline, and make plans in there, thus implying that all of us are going. It’s simple.”

“What?” Alex asked, actually not following her friend at this point.

“Just let it happen, Lex. Where is Casey, anyway?”

Alex swirled her wine around. “Rita absconded with her after work today. She said it was something about a case.”

“I don’t think they’re opposing one another on anything right now,” Serena said.

“I’ve learned not to ask questions,” Alex said, referencing the schemes Rita and her wife liked to pull occasionally. Then, realizing what she might be implying, she said, “Remember Sophie’s birthday last year?” and was answered with Serena’s light laugh from the other end of the call.

---

Casey’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I guess so.” Rita was surprised that Casey didn’t fight her on it. She decided to push.

“So, when are you going to ask her out?” Casey looked at her.

“We haven’t like, set a date,” she said. “Do people usually set dates for that kind of thing?

“They usually have a plan of some kind, I think. I mean, I do.”

Rita’s phone buzzed three times, two texts and a photo from Pippa. She didn’t hide her nerves fast enough for Casey to miss it. She shot her friend a look over her glass, saying, “you have a plan, right?”

Rita rolled her eyes. “Stop deflecting.” This time it was Casey’s turn to get the notifications.

New Groupchat (4)

Serena: So, Saturday night, right? Where?

Caroline: Why don’t you meet me at my apartment? The place is kind of hard to find.

Serena: Works for me. Alex? Casey?

Casey had no idea what the texts were about, suspected Serena of some kind of scheme.

Casey: Sure? But what are we doing?

Serena: Dancing!

Caroline: Dancing. Ashley’s on the road so I needed another partner.

Alex: We’re going dancing on Saturday.

Casey looked up from her phone to find an expectant Rita looking at her. “Apparently, I’m going dancing on Saturday.

“With Caroline?”

“And Alex. And Serena.”

Rita smiled wryly. “Good luck.”

---

“Okay, okay, order, order,” you said quieting the room of middle schoolers at the end of practice. “Remember, I can’t be there with you this weekend at the competition, and I have to leave early tonight,” you said, to a chorus of sighs, “I know, I know, I’m sorry. But you’ll all do great, I know it. Listen to your teachers, stick to your plans, and do your best.” The adoring eyes of the team were all on you. “And, if you win, I’ll buy you pizza. Deal?”

Nothing motivates tweens like a pizza party, but you weren’t worried about their performance. If nothing else, you knew Ophélie was a zealous team captain, putting it delicately. She had learned to be persistent from you, which was great at a competition, more annoying when she had chores. You gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek as you said goodbye to the team, despite her “no affection in public rule” (because the nature of the adolescent is to be embarrassed), and sent a text to Casey letting her know you’d be out soon.

When you saw her waiting for you outside the school building, your heart skipped a beat. It was that same feeling that you’d felt when Alex was in your apartment-- an intimacy that should’ve felt unusual, out of place, instead felt perfectly natural and comfortable. You hugged in greeting, grateful that you’d all decided that would be acceptable affection for colleagues.

“You know,” you said, “You really didn’t have to come meet me here.” Casey shrugged.

“I wanted to. Nice sweater,” she said, teasing you. It was one of those summer evenings where the sunset had brought a cool breeze with it, and you’d stolen one of Ophélie’s uniform cardigans. It was simple and navy blue, but the school logo embroidered on the breast gave it away. The two of you walked together towards the nearest subway station.

“Thanks,” you said, in an unserious tone. “Where’s Alex?”

“She’s already at the bar,” Casey replied, “I was told to retrieve you before the announcement.”

“It can’t be any big surprise,” you said, wondering. “She’s been agonizing over these applications forever.”

“She’s Gillian. She agonizes.” You looked up at the buildings, lights beginning to come on in the apartment buildings and off in the offices. Casey looked at your lifted head and the way it created a line, sloping and elegant, jawline to neck to collarbone. She pushed one palm with the opposite thumb and bit her lip, thinking about her conversation with Rita. She was right, they needed a plan, or one of these days she was going to kiss you without thinking.

Your voice snapped her out of it, but she didn’t hear what you said. “Casey?”

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you were excited to come dancing again this weekend.” The two of you walked down the stairs to the subway station, you in front, looking over your shoulder as Casey answered you.

“Oh! Yes, I definitely am. I didn’t know that Serena could dance, Alex told me it was her idea.”

“Apparently she studied abroad. I’m glad she asked, though.” That gave the knot of jealousy in Casey’s stomach a tug. She had no right to be jealous, but she couldn’t help but feel it. Serena is beautiful, and single, she doesn’t work with them, she’s super smart and funny, and apparently she knows how to dance.

“I’m glad we’ll have enough people to switch up partners a couple times,” Casey said, assuaging the jealousy.

“That’s the best part,” you agreed.

---

You made it to the table just in time to hear the announcement.

The third announcement. It would appear that Rita had somehow gotten ahold on all of Gillian’s acceptance letters and was withholding them from the rest of the group (except, of course, for the honoree herself, who was happy to go along with the plan, not that she had much of a choice). Glasses were raised and congratulations expressed as Rita said, “the third acceptance is… Yale!”

Polite applause came around the table. Gillian smiled bashfully as everyone told her how proud they were. Of all of you, she was the only person smart enough (or crazy enough) to go back to school after navigating the complex legal world of New York City.

“Which ones did we miss?” Casey said as the two of you slid into the two open seats.

“She got into Columbia,” Serena said, “which means she could stay in Manhattan. A few glasses around the table were raised again, encouraging her to stay close.

“And Stanford,” Alex added. You shot Gillian an excited look, happy at the mention of your alma mater.

“How many more letters are there?” You asked. Rita checked the pile of envelopes in her hand.

“Two.”

As soon as Sophie noticed that neither you nor Casey yet had a drink, there were whiskeys in your hands. As soon as Serena remembered that you were returning from coaching a mock trial team, and remembering what she knew of Casey’s feelings about kids, she began to ask you questions. How was the team, what case are they presenting, do they love you, (truly who wouldn’t). She was almost tiring you out.

“Is she always this persistent?” you asked Alex, smiling at Serena as you did so. You had to know if your eyes were deceiving you, your wishful thinking getting the best of your powers of observation yesterday when you saw her jealous look.

You were correct.

Almost faster than could be perceived, Alex’s eyes narrowed, looking into Serena’s, not yours; as if to say what the hell are you doing. Raised shoulders, her fingers pressing slightly into the table, her tongue in the back of her throat: you’d seen enough jealous boyfriends (of women you were about to dance with, if you’re honest) in clubs to know what it looked like.

Well. That was going to be good information to have at your disposal. If nothing else, for

confirmation: that you weren’t crazy, that there was something there to notice, from both of them.

---

You would’ve considered your offer of your apartment more thoroughly had you initially understood that there would be four of you going out that Saturday night. You weren’t sure, at first, if Serena had been asking you out. Honestly, you would probably not turn her down if she did. It would certainly be a simpler path to take, and there was no denying that Serena was beautiful and smart. Of course, your affections were otherwise engaged.

But, since she had invited Casey and Alex along, you considered it more likely that she was “creating some amount of opportunity,” (a real thing you’d really heard her say once) than making a double date. It would make sense, you thought, if Alex had told her how she was feeling; and the more days that went by, the more little tender interactions, the more often you noticed her resting her eyes in your direction, the more confident you were that you weren’t making up the chemistry.

Casey was a little harder to read, but you had noticed she’d seemed slightly… preoccupied the last few times you’d been alone together. One thing you knew: their marriage was rock solid. Neither of them would do something without the others’ approval. You could only hope they had a plan. You didn’t-- unless trying to seem as desirable yet appropriate as possible could be considered a plan.

There were four people in your apartment. You couldn’t remember the last time you had people over to your place rather than Ashley and Ramin’s, so it felt especially cramped. You were each drinking a glass of wine (from Ramin’s fancy stash, you were not going to let them know just yet that the only wine you bought was two buck chuck), you and Serena were sitting on the barstools at your counter while Alex and Casey sat on the couch. You had your music collection on shuffle, which led to a few laughs at the funny combinations.

It was your turn to feel jealous, or maybe to yearn. You hoped that one of them would see the new collection of books sitting on your table: Marriage and Other Alternatives, More Than Two, and What Love Is (and what it could be). A quiet buzz of anticipation (or was it the wine?) pleasantly lodged itself in your mind as the four of you slung your bags over your shoulders and headed out for the night.

---

Pippa Cox touched her lipstick up in the mirror before returning to the table she was (finally) sharing with Rita Calhoun. For such a smart woman, Pippa had often thought, Rita was prone to running from her feelings. Having gotten her on this date was a feat indeed, even though she knew (the glances, the blushing, the way she would drift into her space, natural as anything) that they shared feelings. As Pippa sat down, Rita smiled.

Unfortunately, as Rita reached for her glass, her phone buzzed in her purse. She shrugged-- what was the point of texting when she was on a date? If it was a client, they would call her secretary who would call her. No need to fret.

“It’s nothing, I’m sure,” she said, reaching across the table to take Pippa’s hand in her own. She knew how difficult it had been for her to get back into dating, to trust anyone with her heart, which was part of why she had been so apprehensive to pursue her even though the attraction was there. She’d pinched herself when Pippa had been the one to ask, happy to be the pursued for once.

“Good,” Pippa said, “because I want you to myself tonight.” Rita nodded, bit her lip, and smiled. There was another buzz, then another, then another. Three in a row? The only people she knew who texted like that were Casey and Serena, both of whom had plans tonight.

Plans together, with Alex. Involving Caroline. She sighed, hoping that she wasn’t about to do something to hurt Pippa’s feelings. Pippa, to her credit, looked curiously at Rita’s bag as she opened it.

Notifications: 4 new messages.

Serena: This experience is simultaneously adorable and infuriating.

Serena sent a photo.

Serena sent a video.

Serena: I’m tempted to leave and let them figure it out.

Rita laughed to herself. The picture was a selfie of you four sitting at a booth, you and Alex on one side and Casey and Serena on the other. Serena had her head leaned on Casey’s shoulder, who looking across the table, while you were pressing a kiss to Alex’s cheek. Alex had a contented smile, and your table had evidence of more than a couple drinks for each of you. The video was one of you and Alex. You were holding one of her hands with the other wrapped around her waist. Alex looked terrified, poor thing, every body part was flying in the opposite direction. The sounds of Casey and Serena encouraging you both mixed with the horns and drums coming from the stage. Rita agreed with Serena, it was adorable and infuriating.

Rita: Well, that’s cute and maddening for sure.

Serena: I’ll send updates.

Rita: Tomorrow. Please don’t interrupt *my* date again, thank you.

Serena: OMG did she finally ask you out!?!??

Rita: TOMORROW.

Rita put her phone down, answering Pippa’s curious look with a wave of her hand. “Serena drama,” she said, and Pippa gave an understanding nod. “I made her promise to leave me alone for a while.” Pippa leant across the table and pecked Rita’s lips.

“Good.”

---

tags: @addictedtodinosaurs @nocreditinthestraightworld @cmmndrwidw @hi-i-1 @lesbianologist

[bybdolan]

ANYTHING THEY WANT TO HEAR [based on cowboy like me by Taylor Swift and this edit] Word Count: 4225 ; Rating: T+ ; TW: slight mention of corruption of minors ; AO3 PLAYLIST

“I'm trying to save my money when it comes to small things like that, you know.” She pushes her sunglasses up. “This thing has an expiration date for me.” “What do you mean?” “I'm getting older, Jack. My beauty and my youth are my currency, and they won't be mine forever.” He looks at her for a very long time. “I don't think you'll ever not be beautiful,” he says after a while, and Isis knows he actually means it. His voice is almost plain when he's being honest, it's so different from his usual act.

read below the cut.

“May I have this dance?”

His voice is dark and low in all the right ways and for a moment Isis is almost lured into his sweet web, but then she remembers how he talked to the old lady with the sapphire ring earlier and she knows that he wants something from her she isn't willing to give him. So instead of answering, she lazily stretches her back like a cat in the sun and takes another sip of her champagne.

“Dancing is a dangerous game,” she replies after a while, and it's almost a bored sigh.

He laughs and exposes a perfect row of white teeth. “Cynical, aren't we?”

“Takes one to know one.”

Her eyes scan the crowd and she catches the eye of a man who is looking at her over the shoulder of the woman Isis assumes is his wife. Isis looks away. This is only her second day here. She has to give the men time to take her in first, let them see her exit the pool in her wet swimsuit and cross her long legs while waiting at the bar; so when they finally get to undress her, it feels like a relief, like unwrapping a gift you have been waiting for. It makes them feel special, to think that they of all people charmed her. Isis knows that men like that.

“You know that he's a married man?”

Isis smiles. “Hasn't stopped me before. It's their choice, not mine.”

She turns back to the man beside her. He's very handsome, all dark skin and dark hair and dark eyes. There's something rugged about him, as if he was a statue somebody had left unfinished, and Isis has the sudden urge to put her hand on his cheek and feel the roughness of his beard against her palm.

He reaches out his hand and Isis takes it. His long slender fingers wrap tightly around hers.

“Jack. Nice to meet you.”

“Isis.”

“Did your parents give you that name?”, he asks, and she laughs and shakes her head.

“No. I did.”

“What's your real name, then?” He lowers his voice and Isis has to smile because she knows what he is trying to do. There's a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes when she doesn't lean in to hear him better.

“It was a church name. A good church name for a good church girl.” She enjoys the sight of Jack's white-teethed grin for a quick second before she turns away.

“I'm sure that's what you are,” Jack says, his voice still low and dark, and it sends shivers down her spine. He's good. If she talks to him for too long, he might get her where he wants her, but Isis isn't willing to give him that satisfaction. So she puts her now empty champagne flute on a tray a waiter carries past, rolls her shoulders in a way she knows makes her shoulder blades look good, and gives him an apologetic smile that he will know is fake.

“Well, Jack, it was nice meeting you, but good girls like me shouldn't talk to young men for too long. It gives them ideas.”

Her high heels are softly clicking on the tennis court floor as she is walking away and she can tell that Jack is looking at the silky skin of her back, exposed by her sequined gown, and for once she actually feels good about it.

The gentle wind that blows across the town square tugs at Isis' napkin and her blouse, but she doesn't mind it because the breeze is making the heavy heat slightly more bearable. Jack is sitting across from her, Aviator sunglasses up in his dark curls, head thrown back as he enjoys the cool air.

“Had I known how awful this heat would be, I would have gone to England,” he groans, and Isis smiles.

“I personally prefer sunshine over constant rain, but that might just be me.”

“Of course you do.” He grins. “It allows you to wear the skimpy bathing suits you love so much.”

Isis rolls her eyes at him over the rim of her sunglasses, but she doesn't actually mean it. “If you don't like me doing that, you have done a very bad job at showing it.”

Jack chuckles and looks up into the blue sky again.

They have been spending some time together these past weeks. It's beneficial to both of them to be seen together occasionally, in situations that suggest they are romantically involved. When Isis goes out with an older man later in the day, his ego is soothed by the impression that somehow, Isis chose him over Jack, and it's the same with the ladies that Jack dines with. Isis is aware of the way they look at her. Most with jealousy, some with desire. Isis feels sorry for the latter.

Of course they sleep together sometimes, secretly, and Jack always sneaks out of Isis' room when they are done, leaving her alone in the big, cold bed. She enjoys the arrangement, it is nice to do something just for her own pleasure, without submitting to others' wishes or expecting monetary gain from it. As much as they publicly exploit their sympathy for one another, their friendship – though Isis wouldn't necessarily call it that – is genuine.

“Do you think that store over there is selling an English newspaper?” Jack asks and Isis follows his eyes to the small shop across the square. She shakes her head.

“I doubt it. But why don't you just wait until we get new ones at the hotel?”

Jack shrugs.

Every week or so, there is a fresh stack of newspapers on the receptionist's desk, and Jack is always the first to buy one. He spends the entire morning standing around somewhere, hair dishevelled, completely engulfed in whatever news he's reading, and Isis knows he actually cares about the articles because there is a spark in his eyes that isn't there when he is reading Albert Camus by the pool.

“Why does it interest you so much?” She cocks her head to the side and drinks her Espresso.

“Because I care about what's going on in the world,” he replies, “I actually wanted to be a journalist when I was younger.”

It surprises Isis. For some reason, she automatically assumed Jack was like her, with no aspirations besides getting the most out of what they were doing.

“Is that why you started doing this?” She makes a vague gesture with her hand. “To get money for college?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I wouldn't sit here with you if that was the case.”

“Then what was the reason?” She doesn't know why it suddenly interests her so much.

“I didn't want to go to war.” There's a moment of silence. “All my friends got their drafting letters and none of their weird tricks to get out of it worked, so I figured the only way to not get shipped to Vietnam if my number was pulled was bribing the officers. And since I didn't have the money myself, I had to find somebody to pay for me.” He picks up his coffee cup, but instead of drinking he just stares at the dark liquid. “I borrowed a suit and snuck into the fanciest bar in town and somehow managed to get this widow – her name was Rebekah – wrapped around my finger. When my letter came, she gave the officer a thousand bucks to let me off the hook. I couldn't fuck her while being dead in the jungle, after all.”

The silence between them suddenly feels as heavy as the heat. Jack finally drinks his coffee, then his eyes go to Isis.

“What about you?” he asks. She looks away, gaze fixed on the child playing with a stray cat by the fountain in the middle of the square.

“I just wanted pretty dresses,” she says plainly. “My parents were very religious in an almost puritan way, my sisters and I weren't allowed to do anything that was deemed a distraction from our faith. I hated it. I wanted to be like the other girls in school. So whenever I could, I would take the bus into town and look at the dresses in the shop windows or flip through every fashion magazine I saw. And one day this guy came up to me in the streets and told me he'd buy me the dress I was looking at if I did a little favor for him.” Isis looks back at Jack, eyes all cold and icy through her tinted glasses. She puts her chin up, even after all those years. “I wore that dress like an armor. I felt like fucking Joan Of Arc. It was a fuck you to my parents and my church and my teachers and everybody else who thought they could control what I wanted in life.”

The wind blows her hair into her face. It sticks to her cheeks and her lipstick and Isis combs it back into place with her fingers angrily. It's an unusually rough motion for her.

“And then I just went with it, I guess. Always on the lookout for men who were willing to pay for my attention. It's so easy, you just look pretty and tell them anything they want to hear and that's it.”

Jack nods slowly, fingers toying with the white paper napkin tucked under his cup. “That's one of the reasons I didn't go to college with the money I made. I was scared of not being any good.”

Isis looks at him and her features soften. “That's a stupid reason for not trying.”

Jack gives her a crooked grin. “I guess.”

He looks at his hands and then at his wristwatch and makes a face. “Fuck, I've got to get going.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Her choice of words makes him laugh. “Yes. The blonde lady who always carries those expensive leather handbags, I'm sure you know her.”

Isis nods. “She looked at me this morning when I sat with you during breakfast and I'm surprised I didn't drop dead right then and there.”

Jack laughs again and runs his fingers through his hair. “She's the jealous type. I'm sure she'll be willing to do me a lot of favors if it only means I won't look at you for a few days.”

“You won't manage that.”

“Maybe.”

They both grin.

“If you are planning on ignoring me,” she says, “You should at least pay for my coffee.”

He shrugs. “I guess it would be the nice thing to do. But let it be known that I always pay for your food.”

“I'm trying to save my money when it comes to small things like that, you know.” She pushes her sunglasses up. “This thing has an expiration date for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm getting older, Jack. My beauty and my youth are my currency, and they won't be mine forever.”

He looks at her for a very long time. “I don't think you'll ever not be beautiful,” he says after a while, and Isis knows he actually means it. His voice is almost plain when he's being honest, it's so different from his usual act.

“A lot of people don't think like that.” She looks back at the child near the fountain. The stray cat is gone. She feels a tightness in her throat. “So it would be nice if you could pay for my coffee.” Her voice is a little shaky and she hates it.

Jack silently pulls his wallet from his pocket and puts a bill on the table.

“Thank you,” she says, without looking at him.

He stands up and nods his head as a good-bye.

Isis feels terribly embarrassed and uncomfortably close to him for reasons she can't quite explain, and when she watches him walk to the brown Chrysler he parked in one of the neatly marked spots on the other side of the town square, she has the urge to say something that will make him forget about how unusual this conversation was for them.

“You're really just in this for the fancy cars, aren't you?”

It's a stupid thing to say, now that she knows how untrue it is, but she hopes it's shallow enough to erase what they just shared and make them go back to the sly back-and-forth they've gotten so used to, always vague enough to be fun.

There is relief in his laugh that warmly bounces off the buildings and echoes over the piazza. He throws up his hands in an almost triumphant gesture.

“Damn right I am!"

And that's how Isis knows everything is fine between them. The smile eases its way onto her face without her noticing at first, but when she feels the warmth in her cheeks and in her gut, she bites her lip to make it stop.

Five weeks after his arrival in Italy, Jack gets sick. Isis blames it on a bad oyster, which makes him laugh because she says it in a way that allows no discussion and reminds him of his mother. There are flowers in his hotel room with Get Well Soon!-cards written in fancy ink, but it's Isis who goes to the pharmacy to buy him medicine using her broken Italian, it's Isis who comes to air out his room when he's too tired to leave the bed, and it's Isis who wipes the sweat off his forehead and reassuringly runs her fingers through his greasy hair.

She knows she has better things to do than sitting by his bed and conversing about the topics they only educated themselves about to appeal to the rich folk. The man she has slept with for the past two weeks has flown back to England (not without declaring his love for her in the form of a letter and a diamond necklace), and there are new visitors at the hotel who look at Isis the way she wants them to look at her, and she should be by the pool with her head thrown back and legs curved, or at the bar, touching their shoulders while laughing at the stories they tell. Instead, she is sitting on the cushioned chair in Jack's room with her legs comfortably stretched out, arguing about whether or not Andy Warhol is any good. Sometimes it scares her how much she enjoys his company. She'd rather spend the days with him than alone in her room, she doesn't remember the last time she felt like that about another person.

Her visits get rarer and shorter once Jack gets better and Isis finds a man that takes her to fancy restaurants and buys her flowy dresses in the shops in town, but she makes sure to see Jack at least every other day. One time, as she is about to leave, he tells her to wait and rummages through his bedside table until he pulls out the sapphire ring she had seen on the hand of the lady at the tennis court dance, all those weeks ago.

“For you,” he says, “As a thank you for your time and care.”

When Isis hesitates he cocks his head to the side. "I won't miss it. Blue is more of your color anyway."

Isis lets him slide the ring on her pointer finger and looks at how the blue stone catches the light.

“I'm surprised you actually scored that lady,” she says softly, “I would have bet she wasn't interested in you.”

It's not what she actually wanted to say and they both know it, but they let it slide, and Isis manages to hide how fast her heart is beating until she is alone in the hallway and presses her palm to her chest.

“Do you want me to light that cigarette for you, sweetheart?”

Isis nods and leans over so James can reach the tip of her cigarette with his lighter. She knows that her pose allows him a good look down her dress, and she can tell that he enjoys it.

“Thank you,” she says after her first exhale. The smoke drifts away over the town. The restaurant they are at has a nice view, but maybe she just thinks that because when she looks at the city, she doesn't have to look at James.

It's not that he is ugly – he still has a lot of thick brown hair and some of the bluest eyes Isis has ever seen – but she can't look at him without thinking about his wife, Elizabeth, who had left the hotel last week because she missed their children back home.

Usually, Isis doesn't care about the casualties of her actions, but guilt has slipped into her mind over the course of the past few days. When she told Jack about it, he just shrugged and said he doesn't care, he knows how these people would treat him if he wasn't staying at their hotel but working in his father's garage, and while Isis understands him, her skin is still the same color as theirs and so it’s not her anger to share. Besides, she doesn't feel bad for the men she lies to about her feelings, she feels bad for their wives.

She has never thought much about what it must feel like for them, to be betrayed by the ones they've sworn to dedicate their lives to, be hurt and discarded by the ones they love. Love had been a commodity to Isis, as long as she can remember, and it worries her that the term has started to feel more and more like the vague idea of ‘sacrifice’ she has read about in countless romance novels. It had always seemed so foreign to her, but she kind of understands it now.

“Is there something wrong?” asks James and Isis smiles sweetly and shakes her head. Her mind is trying to replicate how it had felt when Jack kissed her temple last week, when she asked him to stay after they had slept together. Of course he left anyway, but the tenderness of his goodbye kiss made Isis so happy that it frightened her.

“I'm just admiring the view.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and tilts her head in a way that shows off her long, pale neck.

James looks at her and grins. “So am I.”

It takes everything in Isis not to roll her eyes. Instead, she throws her head back with a laugh that bubbles like champagne, covers her mouth with her one hand and puts the other one on James'.

“Oh, stop it, Jac– James!”

The C is a full stop in her throat and she can tell by the look on James' face that he heard it. She intertwines her fingers with his and strokes his thumb to make him forget.

“I’m going back to San Francisco.”

“When?”

“In two days.”

“Why?”

Jack shrugs. “I’m bored of this place. These people. And the heat.”

Isis nods. She knows she would feel the same if it wasn’t for him, but it still feels like he punched her in the gut. She’s not reason enough to stay.

“I just felt like you should know,” he says when Isis doesn’t respond, and she nods again.

“Thank you for telling me.”

There is an uncomfortable silence. Isis doesn’t know what else to tell him, except for the truth: “I’m going to miss you, you know.”

“I’m going to miss you, too.” She can tell that this isn’t all that he wants to say, but he stays silent after finishing his sentence and she wants to grab him by the collar of his stupid yellow shirt and call him a fucking coward. But she doesn’t. Instead, she grabs her book from the table next to her and tells Jack that she has to get ready for dinner.

When he knocks on her door hours later and asks her why she wasn’t at the dining hall, she tells him a lie.

“Come to L.A. with me.” The words fall from her lips carelessly. She had a plan on how to ask him, but then the sunlight made his skin glow even more than usual and suddenly, her words were stronger than her self-control.

“What?” Jack turns around, the look in his eyes somewhere between bewildered surprise and a deep sadness Isis wasn't expecting.

“I'm serious,” she says, voice shaking, “Come to L.A. with me. Or I come to San Francisco with you. I don't care.” She presses her hands into the wall behind her back. “We can live together and sell the other apartment so you can pay for college and finally become a journalist, and I'm sure that I'd find something to do, too, and –”

“Isis,” he interrupts her, and his voice is so gentle that it breaks her heart, “I... Why?”

She shrugs and looks at the shiny tiles on the floor. “I like being around you. And I want you to like me, even though there's nothing in it for me. I've never felt that way about anybody before I met you. And I don't want it to go away.” Her back is pressed against the wall so tightly by now that she feels like the wallpaper is going to swallow her. She doesn't dare to look at Jack.

There is a long moment of silence. Jack looks at his suitcase and sighs. His left thumb is pressed into the palm of his right hand, as if to distract him from pain somewhere else in his body.

“Do you think we can do this?”

It's not a no. Isis feels like she could cry.

“Maybe. I don't know.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“But what if we fail?” He turns to her and his eyes are filled with worry. “We both haven't done anything besides this in our lives. Do you really think we can just stop?”

“That's a stupid reason for not trying.” She puts her chin up. “The fear of failure. I've told you that before.”

He exhales and his shoulders drop.

“My god, Jack, look at us. Have we ever failed before?”

“This is different.”

“But it's still us.” Her hands are numb by now from being trapped between her back and the wall, but she doesn't care. She feels the same way she felt as a young girl, standing in front of the storefront windows, so determined to get what she wanted.

Jack looks very lost in the middle of his room. It's the first time Isis notices how big it is. “I'm just scared of hurting you,” he says softly.

“The fact that you care is enough for me.”

There's a short moment where neither of them move, as if they were frozen in time. Jack looks past Isis through the window, out into the sky, then back at her. She holds his gaze. She wants this. She wants him. So much that it’s clawing at her from the inside. He should know that.

Finally, slowly, he closes the space between them, wraps his arms around her waist and puts his head on her shoulder. He pulls her away from the wall and Isis feels the blood rush back into her hands. She buries her fingers in his hair. Jack softly rocks her from side to side as if she was a child.

“You know, I've always wanted to go to L.A.,” he murmurs into her neck and his words are echoing in her bones, “The palm trees look very pretty.”

“They are,” she whispers, “They are.”

“I’ve forgotten how uncomfortable these seats are.”

Jack chuckles beside her. “You've been in Italy for too long.”

Isis sighs. “Yes.”

She feels her body vibrate as the plane starts to drive. It will take them to Rome, from there, they will go to Los Angeles. Her stomach starts to twitch, like it always does during takeoff, but there is more to her anxiety today. The rattling of the tires on the concrete and the roaring of the engines drown out her thoughts. She closes her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Jack's voice is as soft as ever and yet she understands him just fine.

“I'm nervous,” she replies.

“Is it because of the plane?”

Isis opens her eyes and smiles at him. It's an unsure smile, flickering somewhere between excitement and fear. She can tell from the look in his eyes that he understands what she is trying to tell him.

He reaches for her hand and starts drawing small circles on her skin with his thumb. The plane lifts off and suddenly everything feels very still and quiet, despite the engines’ constant roar.

Jack's thumb rests on the sapphire ring on her pointer finger.

“I can't believe you're actually wearing it,” he murmurs, “Considering how it came into my possession.”

Isis puts her head on his shoulder. “It was the first gift you ever gave me. It's mine now. It doesn't matter how you got it.”

Jack laces their fingers together and kisses her forehead. Then he turns his head back to the window and they both watch as the plane breaks through the clouds, into the bright sky.

[beanie-beebo]

Call for Action

Series Summary: You finally get your dream job, but it comes with a cost.

Warnings: Description of panic attack

Masterlist

Chapter 4

Over the next few days at work, Jared tailed you and Jensen like a schoolgirl. Asking you both for details of the date and how things were moving for the both of you. Not that you minded of course, at least at first. After a while though, it was a little annoying.

When he approached you on the fourth day in between sets, you couldn't hold back your annoyance.

"I just can't seem to get rid of you, can I?" You asked.

"Nope! As long as you're with Jensen, you're stuck with me." Jared said with a knowing smile.

"Awesome." You said, causing Jared to burst out laughing.

"Thought I heard your annoying voice over here." Jensen teased. "What's up guys?"

"Do you even have to ask that one?" You asked.

"You're right, I probably don't." Jensen said. "So, are we all game for hanging out in my trailer later on?"

"What for?" You asked.

"Just to hang and watch the show. Sometimes Jared and I will surprise the fans and livetweet, it's kinda fun!" Jensen said.

"Uh yeah sure." You said.

"Definitely count me in!" Jared said, elbowing Jensen.

"Dude shut up already!" Jensen said.

The exchange caused you to giggle; it wasn't hard to tell that the two of them had been close for a while. They reminded you of one of your few friends back home, Sue. She would always tease you every chance you got, and you loved her dearly. You occasionally talked with her now and again, but had grown more distant due to your deteriorating mental state. You wondered if you should try calling her up this week, just to shoot the breeze.

---------

Around 10 o'clock that evening before your late night shoot, you had made your way to Jensen's trailer. You took in the cool night air with a deep breath, feeling small jitters all over again. Somehow, you were more nervous to hang out with both guys alone, than you were with just Jensen. It could have been the fact that Jared's essence was slightly intimidating, despite how outgoing he was.

Despite how he was acting around you and Jensen, you were growing to like having him around. Even though at times he intimidated you, he was mostly like a giant moose. He was always flopping his giant legs everywhere, and he tended to be the life of the party. You guessed his nickname on the show had something to do with that, although you had no idea.

You knocked on Jensen's trailer door and waited until he opened it up. He smiled and let you right in, the light pouring in from inside. The TV filled a moderate hum throughout the decently sized space; Jared was sitting on the long L-shaped couch on his phone. He looked up when he saw you walk in and grinned genuinely.

"'Bout time you showed up!" He said.

"Sorry, had to wrap up the last scene. It's not like I have a job or anything." You said with a light smile.

Jared stuck out his tongue at you and glanced back at Jensen, who was making his way to sit on the couch.

"He really likes you, you know." He whispered.

"Oh wow Jared, I couldn't tell." You responded snarkily.

You paused for a moment and reflected on what he said. You figured he liked you, or he wouldn't have asked you on a date. But Jensen liked you, maybe even more than you knew.

"Alright fellers, let's settle down and watch some Supernatural. Huh?" Jensen asked, rubbing his hands together.

You smiled at his dorky Southern drawl and nodded, still awkwardly standing by the couch. You were unsure if you were allowed to sit on the couch, seeing it was all white and definitely not cheap.

"Here, sit." Jensen said, ushering a hand to the couch.

You quietly followed his request, sitting right next to Jared. Jensen sat down next to you, sandwiching you in between them. It made you feel pressured and slightly awkward for some reason, so you took a deep breath. You were instantly hit with both of their colognes, which was oddly comforting. Just as you were thinking of another distraction, the program began.

"You know, I don't even think I was working here yet when this episode was being made." You commented.

"Makes sense. Usually post production takes a few months." Jared said, sipping lightly on his alcoholic drink.

Even though you had practically watched at least an episode unfold already, it was all together different watching it on screen. It made you realize how truly special your job was.

Throughout the episode you watched as the two of them live tweeted certain scenes, teasing each other and poking fun at the episode in general. You followed along with both what was on the TV and your phone in amusement. It was like a live commentary, only better. The fans are what made it even more fun with their own comments. There was so much freaking out and animosity between everyone. There were even a few times when you commented with your personal twitter, just to add to the chaos.

No one knew you yet, but it was just how you had wanted it to be. Sitting in between two friends and watching everything unfold from the comfort of your own little bubble.

By the time the episode had ended, you had begun to grow tired from sitting for too long. You let out a quiet yawn and leaned further into the couch, letting it swaddle you.

Jensen looked over at you upon hearing you yawn.

"You look beat, want to take a nap?" He asked.

You looked at him like he had grown a second head. "Jensen, we have to work in a few hours."

"Doesn't mean you can't catch some shut eye before then." He said with a shrug.

You hummed. "Good point. I'll go back to my car then, so you two can finish doing what you have to."

Just as you made a move to get up Jensen caught your arm, sending tingles up to your shoulders.

"No, stay. More time to sleep instead of walking back and forth, right?" Jensen said, smiling sheepishly.

Jared looked between the two of you and made a scene of getting up from his position on the couch.

"I'll take this as my cue to leave." He said, groaning as he got up. "Have fun you two."

"Shut up." Both you and Jensen chimed.

On his way out from the front hallway, you heard Jared cackle causing you to roll your eyes playfully. You looked over to Jensen and instantly began to blush upon realizing the two of you were finally alone together. Jensen had apparently caught on as the blood rushed to the tips of his ears.

"Your choice, do you want to lay here or in my bed?" Jensen asked.

Your stomach flipped at the thought of being in his room. With a surge of confidence, you decided to take the second option. You had needed some quality rest, after all.

Jensen led you to the trailer's decently sized bedroom before heading briefly to the bathroom to change. While he was in there, you sat down on the bed and took a glance around the room.

The bedroom was mostly bare except for a few pictures staggered on the nightstand. They seemed to be of his family, all with smiling faces. You smiled; a family man, how perfect.

Not even a few moments later, Jensen emerged from the bathroom clad in pajamas. You couldn't help your lingering eyes from the bulge in his boxers; you gulped hungrily. Jensen noticed your reaction and smirked.

"Like what you see sweetheart?" He teased.

"Um." You paused, trying to recollect your thoughts. "Sorry, just tired. Guess it's time to hit the hay."

Jensen chuckled. "Sure..”

He pulled up the comforter and got underneath beside you. You blushed and looked away for a second, not used to the close contact.

“This is okay, right?” Jensen asked, not fully settling himself in just yet.

“Oh, uh.. Yeah. We’re dating, right? So.. yeah.” You stumbled.

He smiled and pecked your cheek, taking you by surprise.

“See you in a few hours, sweetheart.” He said before turning away from you.

You knew it was too soon, but you had just realized how much you had craved human contact. You just wanted to be in his arms, held until you fell asleep. But you had just met, and you didn’t want to scare him off by being too needy. You resisted the urge to ask him for the favor and turned away from him; it wasn’t long before you succumbed to a well needed rest.

-------

Your eyes slowly opened to unfamiliar surroundings, causing you to stiffen in fear. You had no idea where you were or how you had got there, and your inner system was slowly boiling into panic. You were just about to get out of whose bed you were in before you turned your head to a familiar face, Jensen. Everything slowly came back and you exhaled. Thankfully, Jensen had slept through your mini freakout and remained undisturbed. While he slept, you took a moment to observe his features.

For once Jensen had looked relaxed, cute even. His few wrinkles were smoothed out, especially around his eyes. His freckles and dark circles were more prominent since he had removed his makeup. If you had the time, you would count and kiss every one of them.

Speaking of time.. You turned over and flipped your phone rightside up, almost gasping when you saw it was close to when you had to be called onto location. Without too much consideration, you nudged Jensen probably a little too roughly until he began to wake up. He deeply inhaled and rubbed at his likely crusty eyes.

“Ugh, what time is it?” He asked, combing through his hair absently.

“Time to get up and head to set, that’s what time it is.” You said, smiling at Jensen’s adorable ‘I just woke up’ face. “Sorry I had to wake you.”

You barely held back a chuckle and made your way over to the standing mirror in his room. After fixing a few strands of hair and deciding you looked good enough, you turned around to Jensen looking at you dopily.

“What? You just gonna sit there or are you gonna get ready?” You asked, smiling widely.

“You’re beautiful.” Jensen said breathily.

“Huh?”

“I said,” Jensen paused and made his way over to you. “You’re beautiful.”

Here the two of you were again, inches apart with a magnetic force seemingly pulling you together. He looked down at your lips, you stared at his. The force was even stronger now, neither of you being able to resist it. Slowly you were closer and closer until your lips softly locked as one.

It had been a while since you had kissed anyone, so you were playing on unsure grounds. But Jensen held and guided you throughout the whole process. It was like learning to walk again, only more exciting and rewarding. He was gentle; a whisper in your ear. Your insides lit up like the fourth of july; you had missed feeling so alive.

After a few moments he broke the kiss and gazed into your (y/ec) eyes, not once looking away. Staring into his eyes, all you could see was love. You smiled warmly and pecked his lips before grabbing your phone off the nightstand.

“As much as I would love to continue more of.. this, we are needed on set in about twenty minutes.” You said, collecting your things.

Jensen seemed completely dumbstruck for a moment before visibly shaking it off. “Good point. Later?”

“Definitely.”

[shyneanon]

Here's a prompt: Your Mafia Sans and the MC somehow end up under some mistletoe. Does he manage to get a kiss? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Heheh, this was really fun. Thank you for this request. Consider this an unofficial, non-canon chapter of The Boss’ Daughter.

---

You didn’t mind Christmas parties too much.

Those present weren’t always from the mafia. They just thought your father… wasn’t. So it meant that not everyone was walking around with a gun tucked underneath their coat. You felt safer. And you got a taste of what normal life was like, at least for the wealthy. People always said normal life was boring. Which was too bad, you guessed. But you would relish it while you had the chance.

Mindy wasn’t here. She wanted to be, but her parents had taken her to a different party. So you occasionally engaged in small talk with other guests; it wasn’t very interesting, but you were used to it. And at least it was with normal people who worked honest jobs. It was what you liked to hear the most about. People’s boring, pencil-pushing jobs, where there was mundane gossip and coworkers who were mildly annoying.

Eventually, though, you wanted to be alone with your thoughts. This wasn’t your house, so you couldn’t go upstairs, but you did want to explore. It was a big and beautiful estate, certainly.

The owners must’ve really loved Christmas, because the mansion wasn’t just decorated where the party took place. There were decorations everywhere. But you were more interested in the old painted portraits and the intricate designs on the walls. Hm.

“Hey, doll.”

…

Oh my fucking God.

No. Not here. Surely he wasn’t here. It was like… some cruel and powerful force just wanted you to be nagged by him constantly. You turned around, desperately hoping you were mistaken, but Sans’ voice was deep and smooth in a way most people couldn’t match.

Sure enough, it was him. As usual, you had to look up to meet his gaze.

“What?” you immediately snapped, although you actually hadn’t meant to sound that hostile.

He blinked. “Good to see you too.”

For some reason, you said, “Sorry,” then made to backtrack… but changed your mind. Your tone had been more rude than intended. Well, you were at a party, so hopefully you could just remain cordial and he wouldn’t try anything funny.

… Oh who were you kidding, of course he was going to try something funny. But you could try to delay it.

So you smiled politely. “Sorry, you scared me. How are you?”

“I’m good,” he said, though he had a brow raised.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, yer doin’ that thing.”

You blinked. “Doing what thing?”

“Th’ thing where you pretend tah like me.”

Your polite smile faltered. How were you supposed to respond to something like that?

He shrugged. “You don’t gotta put on the cute fake smile, sweetheart. It’s just us. I like when yer honest.” He winked. “Even if it’s mean.”

Well, fine then.

“My father’s here,” you said. “You do know that, right?”

“Dammit, doll, always with your dad. Jus’ forget about him.”

“He’s in charge of my whole life,” you said. “Forgetting about him isn’t really an option.”

“When he’s not around he ain’t in control of anything. Ya can make yer own choices.”

You avoided eye contact. That was technically true, and you wanted to do whatever you pleased, but if he found out, who knew what he would—

“Wanna try it right now?”

You looked back up at Sans with a wary expression. “What are you talking about?”

He pointed up, and you looked up at the very, very high ceiling, hanging from which was a very small cluster… of mistletoe.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you muttered.

“Papa ain’t around,” said Sans, his arms folded behind his back. He rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment. He would’ve looked like a shy schoolboy were it not for the grin on his face. “Ya can do whatever ya want.”

“And if he comes around the corner right now?” you said. Why were you even bothering? You just needed to say no and head back to the party.

“Ya just tell him it wasn’t consensual.”

You could feel the horror on your face. “He would shoot you right here, and no one would go to your funeral besides your brother.”

“I mean,” he said, “that second bit’s gonna happen regardless.”

He said it casually, but that was actually… rather sad.

His smile softened. You were unused to seeing it like this.

“Jus’ one kiss?” he asked.

You just stared. You opened your mouth to tell him to fuck off but for some reason you couldn’t form the words.

“Jus’ cuz you hafta,” he said. “Not cuz you wanna.”

He gave you a knowing wink. Was he implying that you wanted to kiss him? As if. You looked him up and down.

“It’s tradition,” he said.

Well… it is tradition.

“J… just because I have to,” you told him. That was stupid and you knew it. Anyone could come around the corner right now, and if anyone saw your father would know about it pretty quickly.

But… it was custom….

“Mmkay,” said Sans. It was oddly quiet.

He reached up and cupped your cheek. You were surprised that he wasn’t just grabbing you and kissing you. You weren’t sure which would be better worse.

His hand was so big. He was so big.

So why weren’t you scared?

He tilted your chin up and leaned down without hesitation. For some reason your heart was picking up. You suddenly started to worry. You had never kissed anyone before. When were you supposed to close your eyes? Before or after contact? Was it possible to miss the person’s face entirely? How long were you supposed to kiss for? At what point did it begin to—

His teeth touched your lips and you froze for a second, your body feeling several sharp jolts of energy. This would be strange if you didn’t kiss back, right? It would be uncomfortable. So you did.

To your surprise, he was gentle. His thumb stroked your cheek and you found yourself leaning up towards him more. You felt… warm, inside. Did he always kiss girls like this? Of course he did. That was what you were to him, right? Just another…

You felt a pair of hands on your waist and some sharp teeth gently biting down on your lip. Your heart leapt in your chest. You made a soft sound of surprise and he chuckled.

What a stupid laugh.

Your back was pressed against something and two large arms wrapped around you, holding you in a firm and steady but gentle grip. You immediately melted into it, your heart going a thousand miles a minute. As your hands reached up and ran themselves along the soft fabric of a suit, eventually wrapping themselves around a neck, you let out a soft sigh that Sans returned, although his was far deeper. Those teeth gently bit down again and your hands clutched fistfuls of his suit, and you realized you hadn’t run out of air yet. How long had you been kissing for? Had you kissed more than once?

Wait a second, you were… you were kissing-- What the hell are you doing?! Your eyes opened and you saw that his face was red. You were both up against the wall and in his arms.

Your lips broke contact with his teeth, and Sans spoke.

“Baby, I… I think I—“

You shoved him off and he let go, looking confused. Your face was burning. You looked down the hallway, terror replacing… whatever it was you’d been feeling two seconds ago. Fuck! Someone could have seen you! What the hell was wrong with you?

A large hand fell on your shoulder. “Sweetheart, it’s OK—“

“No,” you said, pulling away from him. “No it’s not.”

You fixed your hair, trying not to look at him, and rubbed your cheeks as if you could wipe the blush off. You straightened your dress.

“Doll, I… I want to tell you—“

“I don’t want to hear,” you said, your voice wavering. “Goodbye. Merry Christmas.”

You made your way back to the party, but you made the mistake of taking a glance back. Sans was just watching you leave. Was the usual twinkle in his eyelights missing?

No. In fact, that had never happened. You would just… pretend it had never happened.

You grabbed a glass of champagne and started to drink, trying not to look too eager about it.

[pluto-art]

Softly - PatB Fan Fiction

Type: Hurt/Comfort Rating: PG Summary: Baby Brain has known little but pain and misery in an unloving world, but when he gets paired up with a new lab student things change in a way he didn’t expect.

This started out as a mini story in a Discord server and got... a little out of hand. What you see here is how much I typed out in the server.

He hadn't been there long. Two... maybe three weeks? The cold metal had finally become familiar beneath his feet, and the strange blocks, though generally tasteless, kept him alive. There wasn't much that made his new living quarters interesting; there was only so much one could do in a pile of aspen shavings day after day. Occasionally, they would hook up to his cage some sort of liquid that wasn't his usual watery fair. He could never decipher or make heads or tails of the words on the sides of the bottles, saying things like D-D-T or S-N-I-P-P-L-E. The only distinguishing feature to him was that sometimes they tasted terrible, sometimes quite flavorful, and sometimes they tasted like nothing at all. Almost all of them turned his stomach. Driven to thirst, however, he'd play their cruel game. Choice was not something that existed in this crisp, sterile world; at least, not from a personal standpoint. When it did exist it meant the difference between a shock and a treat; a yellow light or a red light; a warm room or a cold one. Choice was manufactured.

He still cried almost every night. He tried to quiet the tears, but they didn't always listen. The others heard him. One or two laughed cynically. Most said nothing; they'd shed their own fair share and would again sooner than later. A single kind soul, a mother rat some doors down from him, occasionally whispered to him a lullaby or two when everyone else but them were asleep. They were songs she sang to her own children to quiet their tears, and she had no less compassion for this unfortunate soul, who was even worse off than her own brood -- he didn't even have any parents to nuzzle up to. Had she her way, she would have mutilated every last living human being in the facility. It was bad enough that they were tested on mercilessly as adults. To do so to children was simply insidious. Alas, she was simply a rat, and so could only dream of days when she wasn't.

Not that BR-41N (that's what they called him; no one had real names here) hadn't tried to be friendly with his captures. Aside from a particularly nasty poke from some long, thin, prickly object inserted into his thigh the first day (it had stung; oh, it had stung...) the proceeding couple of days had consisted of simple maze runs and treadmill exercises. Nothing too elaborate. As a child, he'd been used to running around a lot in the field, and sifting through the labyrinths reminded him of the long grass he'd play hide-and-seek in back home, except at the end of them was a tasty prize: a piece of cheese. He liked cheese. In the wild, it was hard to come by, but here they gave it to him generously, provided he finished the courses, which he always did. The fourth day followed in much the same way, but the fifth day brought something different: a sudden shock and a broken tail. That had changed his view of things. Perhaps the harsh awakening wouldn't have been so terrible had it not been followed by other unspeakable things -- poisoned food; friends made that, the next day, would never be seen again; more shocks given as punishment for choosing an incorrect panel; injections that made him see things he'd never seen, monsters and strange colors and other scary things that kept him awake at night; loud noises that came out of nowhere; and often, quite often, the terrifying echo of squeaks, barks, and meows that made up the daily music of Acme Laboratories. He hated it. He hated all of it. More than anything, he wanted to go home. He missed the warmth; the love; the soft whisper of the wind that traveled through his ivory fur. He wanted all of it back. But life? She was a harsh mistress. And no amount of crying, screaming, or pleading, seemed to ever make her turn an ear.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks... months, more than just a tail was broken. Trust was broken. Hope was broken. Spirit... was broken. If there was any love, if there was any future, it wasn't here. Kindness had proved unfruitful, and patience had run its course. He didn't find reason to be willing, nor show charity, towards those who made his life a living hell. What reason was there? What profit was in it? Time had told him, quite bluntly, there wasn't. It had taken him a full month to admit defeat, but admit it he did, and cynical he became, 'til every hand that reached in to grab him was ripe to be bitten, every shot that punctured his stomach was the unwelcome norm, and every newcomer that tried to strike up a friendship was easily ignored. The latter-most was simply wasting their time. He could read the colors on the cages now. He knew that a red mark meant "death". He only wondered why he, as of yet, had never been given one himself. It was as if life itself was laughing at him -- keeping him as witness to the horrors that went on inside the dragon's cave, yet never giving him the satisfaction of death.

And so the third month dawned, chilly and barren, or so the scientists said. Autumn had come. Not that any of the residents within the thick, cemented walls could see it. But the laboratory personnel spoke of it -- gold and crimson leaves, hot chocolate, dried wheat fields. He could almost smell the corn; could almost feel the breeze.... Days passed. For the first time, they gave him a cage mate. E8-WN, they called him. He was kind, but BR-41N had little love left to give. Besides, he had the red tag. It seemed they had only placed him here temporarily due to a lack of space. The next day he was taken to the back. The tiniest shred of pity nipped at BR-41N as he watched the little peach-furred mouse be carried into the surgical room, a curious look on his face. Another emotion was also present within him: jealousy. On the 17th day of September, a new thing happened -- a thing that, for the first time in a while, made the little mouse turn his head.

The school year had started, and, as such, fresh meat was welcomed into the laboratory in the form of fourteen college students looking to continue pursuits in medical science. They were all very quiet during the tour, one or two of them occasionally lifting a hand to ask a question about course materials or contact information. They were each, it seemed, to be given a subject: an animal from the laboratory to study, train, and conduct experiments on. Rats, mice, and hamsters had already been picked out for them, and each was given a black-coated subject or a brown-furred captive to take charge of. Each student's rodent was to be kept in the lab at all times, and specific instructions were given them as to the proper handling of the creatures. At least two experiments were to be conducted on them daily, three if possible. They could spend as much time with their charge as they wished, so long as they got their homework done. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents. Four months to finish their work. Simple.

As it stood, however, there had been a miscalculation. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents.... No. Not fourteen. Only thirteen. There'd been an error. They'd forgotten to set aside an extra subject. The unfortunate student without a charge was a college girl named Rachel. All other rodents were going through tests conducted by various personnel in the lab, set aside specifically for said conductions that couldn't currently be tampered with. All except one....

"So, um, Rachel," their teacher said, checking his student list. "You may have to share with... Peterson.... You know what? We might... actually have an extra for you. Hold on. Let me ask...."

And he departed into another room, calling for a "Jackson".

"Jackson! Can she use BR-41N? I don't think he's going through any rigorous testing.... Yeah? Okay. Yeah, that would work out perfectly. Thanks."

He turned back to his brood, many of whom looked quite eager to jump in to these intriguing studies, others looking downright bored.

"Okay. We have one for you. His code name is BR-41N. He's not going through any major testing, and he's generally given the usual works -- labyrinths, shock treatment, all that. But, um... he bites. Really bad. So... you'll have to watch it, all right?"

"Okay," Rachel nodded, looking a little nervous.

"All right. Umm.... Good. Yes. So, let's head back to the main campus, and... we'll start your work tomorrow."

And they left.

BR-41N had only heard part of all this, and had understood none of it. He shivered in his cage, taking a moment to drink some water out of the bottle that hung there. While the arrival of such a large group intrigued him, especially since it consisted of a much younger set than normal, it also made him nervous. Was it a sign of good things to come... or bad? Or just more of the usual fair? One could only wonder. For now, he was simply grateful that the cheese they'd given him today was, for once, not laced with drugs.

She came by on a Tuesday.

It was an hour after a cosmetics test that he heard a knock on the table. His skin still burned. He was cowering in a far corner, and looked back over his shoulder hesitantly.

Rachel stood there, smiling at him.

"Hello, little one." He stared at her, nonplussed. "I guess you're my charge. You gonna say hello?"

And she opened up the door of his cage.

He shuffled back further. He knew all too well by this point that the opening of a door meant one of two things: food or torture. Considering the fact that she didn't smell of food, he had to assume it was the latter.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. Well, hopefully not...."

Although he didn't understand a word of what she said, her tone was calm; soothing. No one in the lab ever talked to him like this. He couldn't help but stare curiously.

She held her hand up to the entrance and made a soft, squeak-like sound with her mouth. He frowned at her. As if that was going to convince him. He turned away.

"No? I don't blame you," she replied, taking a look at his clipboard. "BR-41N. What kind of a freak name is that? Mind if I call you Brain? Or Brian?"

No response.

"We'll go with Brian. Brain sounds kinda weird."

Brian it was.

She kept the door open, and he braced himself. Any moment now, gloved hands would be protruding into his enclosure to wrap themselves firmly about him, not tight enough to choke him, but secure enough that he couldn't escape. But the hand didn't come. If anything, she pulled up a chair, sat down, and rested her arms upon the table on which his cage sat. She was... giving him a choice? He stared at her, unsure how to react.

"Come on, sweet heart," she cooed, rubbing her fingers together encouragingly.

But he wouldn't budge. If this was some new trick, it wasn't going to work. He wished she'd just grab him and get it over with. Sooner or later, she'd have to. It was only a matter of time. And so he waited....

She sat there for a full twenty minutes, trying her best to get him to come over, but he refused to budge, and so she gave up. As expected, she still ran him through a maze, but instead of reaching in to grab him, she found a clear tube and scooped him up in it, covering both ends before depositing him into the run as such. It was... odd, but less invasive than what he was used to. He rather wished the others would do it that way.

Via the same method she returned him to his cage at the end of the test. As usual, he took to the corner, assuming his usual cowardly pose, but he turned to look at her as she spoke.

"Sorry about that. Nice job, though. See you tomorrow."

And so went the next day... and the next, always with the same introduction: She'd open his door, pull up a chair, and offer her hand to him. After twenty minutes of nothing, she'd scoop him up in the tube, deposit him in the maze or whatever other test he was to perform that day, and return him in the same manner. This went on for four whole weeks, always with a kind word, never coupled with a harsh prod or poking of his skin. He came to somewhat look forward to her almost daily visits, not because he trusted her (the one time she had tried touching him [with gloves on, of course], he'd given her a fair warning in the form of a bite), but because it was the only two hours during the day in which he knew he wouldn't be fed poison, given a shot, or made to inhale cigarette smoke. The other students joked with her. By far, she had the unfriendliest mouse out of all of them, and they found her kind advances a waste of time.

"Just pick him up!" a tall boy said.

Most of them had no problem with handling their subjects by the tail; at least, the boys generally didn't. The girls were kinder, but even they didn't take the time to get to know their animals intimately. They also were given the harder tests to conduct on their critters and so tried not to get attached.

Whereas most of the rats, mice, and hamsters given to the students would eventually be killed in some way or other at the end of the semester, via through vivisection, gassing, cancer, or some other method, BR-41N, or... Brian, as Rachel now called him, was not scheduled to be offed anytime soon and so could not undergo such rigorous experiments. As such, she got both the easy job of conducting very simple tests on him, and also the hard job of trying to work with the most hostile mouse in the entire facility.

"He's never gonna warm up to you," one of the other students said.

Rachel took it as a challenge.

"Watch me," she said.

But Brian was proving to be a much tougher can than expected. By the sixth week, he still hadn't even bothered to venture near the cage entrance when she sat near it, even with tasty treats in hand. He simply didn't trust anyone. Not anymore....

October came and went, to be replaced with a frosty November. Whenever Brian saw Rachel now she had a cup of tea in hand, the better to ward off the coming winter chill. Still she tried; still he refused to relent. Until the 9th....

It was late. She hadn't been able to get to the lab until 8:00 PM due to unfortunate series of events that involved a fender bender, two appointments, and a last minute essay. When she got to the lab she was tired... and not at all in the mood to deal with Brian's B.S., and he knew it.

"'Sup?" she asked him wearily, setting down her things in a huff. Only a handful of other people were still in the facility at this hour, none of them students. Fine by her. She preferred the quiet anyway. "We're gonna do something a little different today, bud."

Indeed.... He perked his ears up at her exhausted tone and the fact that, for once, she didn't open the cage door. But she did still slide the chair up to his table.

On the opposite side of the room was a television on a rolling stand. Normally, this was used for surgeries and other experiments. Once in a blue moon, however, someone would use it for recreational purposes -- to watch the local news when there was time to kill. Most fortunately for Rachel, it also came with a VHS player. Into it she popped a tape, before sitting down in the chair and grabbing her hot cup of peppermint tea. Despite himself, Brian took a whiff of the tea, whose scent had wafted into his cage and tickled his nose. It smelled good.

The film began to play. Brian didn't know the name of it, but whatever it was it was made up of very pretty pictures and featured a lot of dogs... and snow (at least at the beginning). It was rather soothing. Still, he didn't move from his spot, save to grab a lab block at one point to munch on, more to pass the time than anything. His stomach was still a little unsettled from earlier. Privately, he was a bit ticked off at the girl. Had she been a bit earlier he might have avoided the shock treatments. Not that they would have withheld them regardless.

It wasn't until the second song that his attention was at last caught.

"La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...."

Sweetly did the animated woman sing her little song, and Brian, captivated, perked his ears. He looked up at the television. She was still singing. He stepped forward, bit by bit, until he was right up to the closed door, two little paws coming up to grasp at the bars of his cage as he stared, entranced, at the screen.

"La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper, La la lu, La la lu, La la luuuuu."

And so it ended, all within the span of a minute, if that, but something had stirred with him -- a remembrance of home, and warmth, and what it was like to be loved.

He was still clutching at the bars when he noticed that Rachel was smiling at him, and he promptly sped back to his corner, embarrassed.

"Atta boy," she whispered, still grinning softly at him.

He refused to look at her. He wasn't touched by it or anything. He wasn't....

"It's okay. Don't be embarrassed," said the girl. "I like that song, too."

Brian stayed in his corner the rest of the movie, but the song never left his mind. 

---

The next day proceeded as normal. Once again, Rachel sat by his cage. Once again, she had brought a treat, albeit one he'd never seen before, nor smelled, for that matter. It was small... and white... and fluffy, and it smelled sugary and sweet. He wanted it. Oh, he wanted it so very badly. But nothing that ever came from the fingers of a scientist, even a soft-spoken one, was innocent. And so he refused, his back turned to her.

"Stubborn butt," said Rachel, and by her tone alone Brian could tell that it was a snide comment. He ignored her.

"Here."

As had occurred many times before, she left the treat in his cage near the entrance, closed the door, and sat to watch him. His eyes shifted towards the treat. It sat there, staring at him, mocking him. Eat me, it said. No, he thought. Oh, but it smelled so good....

Rachel sighed. So did Brian. She rested her head in her arms, exasperated. Maybe it really wasn't worth it....

Brian licked his lips. Perhaps....

He took a step forward. Rachel remained where she was, head in her arms, not looking at him. He moved another step. She was still as a stone. Patter patter patter patter patter... GRAB. He swooped back to his corner as fast as possible, marshmallow in his mouth. Rachel looked up... and chuckled. Brian dug into the treat, enjoying every second of it as teeth sunk into the savory delight. He'd never tasted anything this good before. It was better than mother's milk; much better than lab pellets; better than cheese....

"Silly little thing," Rachel giggled, smiling as he filled his cheeks with pleasantness. "Wait 'til you see what I bring you tomorrow."

Tomorrow, he was to find out, brought a piece of a doughnut, and the day after that a waffle. He'd never been this darn spoiled before. On the fourth occasion, he was, for once, already at the door, waiting to see what she'd bring. Lady and the Tramp and sugar, it turned out, were the keys to his heart, although he still wouldn't let her touch him. If her hand so much as brushed his fur he was back to his corner in a rush, although, this time, he didn't try to bite her first.

Rachel laughed when she saw the two little paws clutching at the gated entrance.

"You like 'em that much, huh? Here ya' go."

He stepped back to allow her access to the gate, and watched carefully as she placed something savory and smelling of salt inside. He sniffed, investigating as she closed the door. He took a tentative bite. Mmmmm. Yes, this was acceptable. Grabbing it, he rushed back to his usual corner and chowed down.

"Good. A fellow bacon appreciator," Rachel nodded, satisfied.

He ate the entire piece, licking his lips and proceeding to clean himself afterwards. That had been a bit messy. Good, but messy. If there was something he still valued, it was cleanliness. He could at least retain some form of dignity. The state of his fur was one of the few things he still had control over. Unlike some of the other unfortunate chaps, he'd never had to endure surgery or a shaved stomach.

Two little pink ears perked up as his cage door was opened yet again. More treats? No. Just Rachel, hand offered to him once more. Brian sighed. She just wouldn't give up, would she?

A second glance made him aware that she did, in fact, have something in her hand -- another marshmallow. Hmph. Sneaky. And yet, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want it....

"It's okay, little one," Rachel cooed, hand still outstretched, that plump marshmallow beckoning ever so tantalizingly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."

Brian sighed. He looked down at the floor, then over at her hand.

Rachel's eyes widened a touch, but she otherwise didn't reveal her surprise as Brian moved forward, inch by inch, step by step, towards her hand....

He stopped at the entrance, debating. Dare he...? It was a risk. He'd never willing done this, not since he'd been captured. It was a stupid decision. Stupid. And yet....

Her hand shifted a touch, and Brian shifted nervously with it. Rachel waited with bated breath.

He stepped forward....

In a flash, he'd grabbed the 'mallow from her hand and retreated to the back of his cage, not daring to even think about what he'd just done. It was foolish. It was dangerous. And yet, she hadn't tried to grab him, or even pet him. She'd just... given him a choice. And he'd taken it. Somehow, for some reason, he'd taken it.

Rachel smiled.

"Atta boy."

---

Perhaps it was the mere fact, the tantalizing realization, that he had a choice in the first place, that drew him back, but over the course of the next few weeks, things changed.

It had started slow at first. A light brush of the whiskers here; a sniff of the hand there. But, eventually, Brian, of his own accord, stepped into her hand. And she didn't close her fingers about him harshly, or strangle him, or pick him up by the tail. She simply... let him be. It was kind. It was unobtrusive. It was respectful. And he appreciated it.

No longer did the other students make fun, or joke that she'd never gain his trust. If anything, they questioned her.

"How the heck did you do it?" they'd ask, curious.

Even more confused were the scientists themselves. Not that anyone had tried very hard to gain the little mouse's trust. He was, in their opinion, not worth the time.

But he was to Rachel.

December came, and with it a complete turn-around in Brian's behavior, albeit towards one particular individual.

He eagerly rushed into her hand now. No need for the transportation tube. She could carry him on her shoulder to the maze area and pick him up with her bare hands as she placed him in the labyrinth, although she still made sure to let him take the first step and would, more often than not, simply offer a hand instead of plucking him from her shoulder. He still appreciated this.

Every weekday was now a day to look forward to. Sure, he was still tormented by the main personnel, but for two or three hours, two or three sweet hours, he didn't have to worry about anything. On the days he suffered from a stomach-ache, she'd hold him close to her chest and do her best to rub the pain away, offering him tea to ease his suffering, and if he fell asleep on her shoulder and woke up, shaking, from a bad dream, she'd rock him back and forth, singing "La La Lu" to him until the nightmares went away. On those rare nights, when she could only work late and no one was around, she'd bottle feed him. He'd been hesitant (and a little embarrassed) at first, but any reminder of home was difficult to ignore, and so he ended up embracing each form of love and affection with open paws, clutching tightly to her chest some days, as if this hug would be his last. For all he knew, it could be. He'd gotten used to her visits, but what if she left and never came back? He didn't want that love to leave....

December 14th.

The end of the semester was approaching. Rachel had told him, time and again, that she was leaving soon; that she would miss him; that she'd try to come back for the next semester. Brian understood none of this. He was a mouse, after all. Human language was foreign to him. The most he could understand was the occasional word -- his name, Brian, and various names of foods and tests -- and basic inflections that he knew signified concern, happiness, or contentment. But he didn't understand "leave", or "semester", or "miss". He could tell something was wrong, that she was sad, but as to why, he did not know.

A week from the last day of the semester, she brought a surprise: a movie. It had something to do with a rat, and food. He liked it for those things. He wished he could understand the words. It seemed interesting. He sat on Rachel's shoulder the entire time, at least until the end of the film, during which Rachel offered her hand to him. He accepted. She brought him up to her chest, nuzzling him close.

"I'm going away for a while, but... I'll try to be back next semester."

She petted him gently. He stared up at her, curious and concerned. Why was she so sad?

"I'm going to miss you...," she whispered. And, for the first time, she kissed him on his fuzzy white head. "I love you...."

He didn't understand the words, but he understood what they meant; how they felt.

Slowly, gently, he nuzzled close to her... and licked her fingers. It was the first time he'd shown genuine affection outside of nuzzling since he'd been captured. I love you, too....

He didn't understand it, but... there was something in the air that told him something big was coming. Something new. Something was going to be different....

December 18th came just like any other day. The semester was coming to a close. Many students had already finished their courses and gone home for the holidays. The occasional class still lingered on, including the medical science class. Most all had completed training and experimentation on their subjects for the season and were simply spending the next few days filing reports and filling out last minute essays. Some of the rodents wouldn't live to see the new year. Others had already been subjected to vivisection by their handlers and were far from the lab by this point. Subject BR-41N was one of the few who'd been given the same sheet on their clipboard day after day, week after week: a run of the mill of the usual, simple, non-invasive tests, along with an injection or two. But today was different.

As Rachel stepped up to Brian's cage, sipping at a hot cup of tea and smiling as her charge ran up to the bars to greet her, she frowned as she pulled up the clip board. His tag was yellow. Not the usual blue, but... yellow. She set down her cup, ignoring Brian's squeaky pleas to be let out as she looked over the sheet carefully.

Subject Reserved for Project B.R.A.I.N. // Invasive Study -- Cognitive Psychology, Neuroscience Psychology // 4:00 PM - Dec. 20

There was a pause, in which the dip in Rachel's brow furrowed ever deeper, her eyes roaming about the page scrutinizingly, before she slipped the paper out of its holder and headed back out the way she'd came, Brian looking curiously after her.

She marched all the way to a back office, in which sat one of the laboratory heads: Jackson. He looked up over his square-rimmed glasses as she knocked upon the exposed inner door frame.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding bored.

"Hey. Um.... I think you gave my subject the wrong paper."

"BR-41N?"

"Yeah. He got a yellow."

She stretched out her arm, offering the paper as proof, but he didn't take it. Instead, he looked up at her, fingers meeting at their tips, and said:

"No, I gave you the right paper. That's for BR-41N. His procedure is in two days."

His tone was flat and laced with a thin layer of poison, as if her daring to question him was a challenge.

"But... I thought he was just doing mainly labyrinth tests."

"Ms. Field, I thought you were told...?"

"Told what...?"

"He's been scheduled for this procedure for months. We wanted him fresh and so have eschewed more invasive tests until now. Frankly, you've been spending a little too much time with that mouse. He's gotten too friendly. We're not in the business of developing attachment here."

He said all this with a straight face, completely emotionless. Rachel swallowed thickly.

"Sir, I've... been going over this test. It's... very dangerous."

"Yes."

"It could kill him...."

"Yes?"

Rachel simply stared at him, uncertain of what to say next. He wasn't working with her here....

"Look.... What did you expect? You're studying medical science, correct?"

She nodded.

"Okay, well," he continued, a small chuckle of sarcasm escaping his lips as he said it. "Y-You have to realize that... this is a laboratory. We can't keep every subject. And these tests come with a lot of risks."

"Could you possibly do the test on another subject...?" Rachel asked, choosing her words carefully. "Brian is still kind of young, and..."

"Brian?"

Shoot.

"Sorry, I mean... BR-41N."

"You can't start... naming them, Miss Field. That's when you start getting attached. Understand?"

"I know...," Rachel mumbled, cheeks reddening as she looked down at her shoes.

"And the whole point of using him at this age is because his mind is younger. He's fresh."

"But he's just a baby..."

"Yes? And? A lot of the other students are working with infants."

"This one is...," Rachel began, than stopped. Already she'd said too much.

"Miss Field, if you don't prepare him for the procedure, someone else will. Now, you can either do your assignment or lose your credits. It's your choice."

Rachel sighed. Still holding the paper, she let her arm fall dramatically to her side.

"Fine...."

And she turned to walk off. But...

"Miss Field?"

She looked at him.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, Sir," Rachel replied, after a hefty pause, and headed back to her charge.

---

Brian didn't understand why Rachel was so quiet that day, nor why she cuddled him so much. She whispered to him something about "breaking out" and "night", but he didn't understand what those things meant, although he heard the urgency in her voice. As a result, he was a little more uptight the rest of the afternoon.

Before leaving, Rachel kissed the top of his head again, before setting him back down in the cage and hooking the door. Her good-byes were all but gibberish to him, although he recognized the word "tomorrow". So he'd be seeing her tomorrow. That was good. At least he had a time frame. He was naive to the rest....

---

December 19th 9:15 PM

BR-41N cleaned his whiskers, pondering.

She hadn't shown up today. Strange. "Tomorrow". She's said "tomorrow". Today was tomorrow. Why hadn't she come?

To his left, in a far corner of the room, someone sneezed in their cage. Brian frowned sadly. It was that hamster again. Whatever they'd given him had put him into a sneezing fit for an hour. Now and then he relapsed.

He yawned, stretched, and made for the food dispenser, when he suddenly heard a sharp click of a door being opened and abruptly snapped shut. He turned in the direction of the door. A light flicked on. Brian smiled.

Rachel's feet slid across the floor in haste. Instead of her usual student lab coat, she was decked out in her normal clothes, complete with backpack. Her hoodie was up, obscuring her hair, save for a few strands that stuck out here and there, as well as part of her face. She moved with purpose, albeit a little covertly, looking over her shoulder every now and then, as if expecting someone to grab her at any minute.

Set in a wall above the entrance to the room, a camera followed her. Rachel's eyes shifted at the sound as she moved towards Brian's cage. She knew she only had five, maybe ten, minutes at best.

Opening the cage door, she held her hand out for Brian to step onto. He hesitated. Something didn't smell right....

"Come on. We're busting you out of here, dude," Rachel whispered.

Brian cocked his head at her questioningly.

"Listen, they're going to put your through that splicer if we don't get you out of here, so come on."

There was an urgency in her voice that, despite his misgivings, compelled him to move forward. He trusted her too much by this point.

"Atta boy," she praised him, tucking him in her shirt pocket.

He peeked out, paws clutching at the edges of the pocket interestedly.

"Let's go," Rachel whispered, turning back to the door and stopping as she realized that someone was already standing there....

Framed in the metal doorway was a woman, thirty-five... maybe forty-something in age. Her arms were crossed, and the expression on her face seemed as taught and firm as the scrunchie tightening her poofy auburn hair. Her long lab coat was still settling; she must have only just gotten there. Rachel recognized this woman. Lana, her name was -- she was one of the head managers at the facility. Jackson had obviously tipped her off.

"Fancied a night stroll?" she asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Rachel remained frozen in place, a hand subconsciously cupping her shirt pocket. The gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"You know you're risking a lot for this. That's all your credits down the drain."

"He's worth it," Rachel answered, resolute.

"He's not. You take him and they'll just get another subject."

"At least I'll have saved this one."

"We'd still rather you not take an asset that's been reserved for months for this procedure," Lana nipped, taking a step forward.

Rachel took a step back. Her eyes shifted to a door to her left. It led to several other testing rooms and then back out into the main hallway. Some of the doors had security locks. It was the long way around, but if she was fast enough....

"Rachel...," Lana spoke, tone threatening as she advanced. "Put him down."

With each step Lana took towards her, Rachel moved two back. She could feel herself starting to perspire. Gosh, this was a stupid idea....

"Rachel...."

With a hand cupped over her shirt pocket, Rachel darted in the direction of the door, opening it up in a flash and slamming it shut behind her. Already she was racing for the opposite end of the room, where another door stood.

Brian jumped as an alarm went off, followed by red lights that flashed all throughout the facility. Rachel was already in the next room, her heart racing. She could hear the panicked footsteps behind her, mimicking her own, and hoped upon hope that she was faster than her pursuer.

Rachel picked up her pace as she entered the next room. This one, she knew, required an employee badge to open. All of the students had been given security badges, of course, primarily for general access to the entrance and main rooms. They worked on some doors in the facility. Some, but not all. She'd never been in these rooms. Privately, she prayed that they'd open for her.

Slamming her badge up against a wall panel, she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet nervously.

"Come on. Come oooon! Take it!!"

It did. The door unlocked, and she swung it open in haste to make for the next locked door, which also granted her entrance.

She was faster than Lana, but it didn't mean the woman wasn't hot on her heels. Brian shut his eyes tightly, huddling against Rachel's chest on the inside of her pocket as she darted about, her hand still cupping him securely. He knew, somehow, that this was about him. His ears rotated this way and that at the duo of clicking feet racing down the linoleum flooring. Who would win? Who was he most valuable to?

It wasn't until the fourth room that Rachel started to panic. Yet again, she'd reached a door asking for proof of access, except this time... her badge was not accepted. She shook the door handle feebly, knowing it wouldn't open; knowing this was the end of the line. Despite himself, Brian peeked out of the shirt pocket, just in time to see Lana as Rachel swiftly turned around to face the woman, who stood at the opposite end of the room, hair askew and chest heaving as she glared at Rachel and her tiny charge.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Lana huffed.

"Why do you need him?! Just let me take him and get another subject!" Rachel bit.

"We let you get away with it and you'll set a precedent! You know that!" Lana snapped right back. "And we don't want to waste any more time. We've spent too much money on this project."

"He's just a baby!"

"All of them are meant to be expendable! Hand him over!"

"No!"

Brian's ears flicked. Rachel held her breath. Was it just them, or did they hear... more footsteps?

"You won't have a choice," Lana said flatly, expressionless as she was joined by not one, not two, but five other lab hands, one of the them Jackson, all of them full-time personnel.

"Rachel.... Hand him over," Jackson said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Rachel glared daggers at him, even though she was fully aware of the impossibility of the situation. Like the mouse she was trying so hard to protect, she was trapped, her back against the wall, literally. They were going to take him. They were going to take him and there was nothing she could do about it....

"I told you not to do anything stupid," Jackson continued.

"Please...," Rachel pleaded, breathing heavily. "Please, let me take care of him. I'll train another in his place as compensation, I swear. Just... don't hurt him."

"And then you'll grow attached to that one and try and kidnap it. We've seen it before. You're not the first," Jackson reprimanded.

"Good," said Rachel. "I'm glad I'm not."

Privately, she wondered why she'd ever signed up for this in the first place. She wanted the degree. She wanted it badly. She also loved animals, and knew that following her passion came with sacrifices. What she hadn't counted on was how difficult it would be to accept that. It wasn't feasible, she realized. In fact, it was darn near impossible.

She looked down at the infant trembling in her pocket -- at this little creature that had captured her heart and locked it away, far away from any hopes and dreams of graduating in the medical field of her choosing. "He's not worth it," Lana had said. Was he not? Brian looked up at her, those glossy little eyes staring at her expectantly, trustingly. She smiled sadly at him and, for the last time, cuddled him close, before looking up at the troop across from her.

"If you want him, come and get him," she challenged. They weren't getting him without a fight.

And they rushed at her.

She tried to escape. Oh, she tried... and failed. They grabbed her by the arms as she wrestled against them, cheering Brian on as he somehow managed to escape from her pocket and slip underneath one of the shelving units in the room. But Lana caught him, Brian squeaking as his tail snagged between the beaker and the small metal panel she'd captured him with. He stared at Rachel, his desperate, panicked expression the last thing she saw before being knocked out.

-------

- Two Years Later -

The plan had failed. Rather spectacularly, he might add....

It was the first time in Brain's memory he could ever recall being caught red-handed by any of the personnel at Acme Labs. It was a miracle he and Pinky had managed to escape, but, despite his best attempts, they'd been separated in the process.

He made for a facility some yards away from the main laboratory, sweating as he squeezed under its front door and immediately hid under a cabinet to his right. Lights flashed now and again beyond the windows, desperate voices accompanying them as the scientists searched here and their for the escapees. Brain silently prayed that Pinky had somehow found a suitable hiding spot.

In his position under the cabinet, he backed up against the wall and slid down it, a paw clutching at his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. After a few seconds, he gulped, sniffed, and buried his face in his knees. Stupid. Stupid.... He'd jeopardized their whole mission. What if they'd captured Pinky? What would they do to him? And even if they did escape, where would they go? He'd ruined everything. Everything....

In his haste to remain undetected, he'd neglected to realize that this room... was not entirely devoid of life. It was a small area -- a security office, to be exact. Numerous monitors took up space on a desk, at which someone sat. They slid out of their chair and stepped over to Brain's hiding place. He noticed... and shivered.

Whatever, whomever, it was got down on their knees to peer at him from just outside the dresser.

"Hello...," they said.

It was a woman. Her voice was soft, and kind, but Brain turned his head away from her prying eyes. Typical. In an effort to not get caught he'd inevitably been ratted out. He immediately considered making a run for it, but, for some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't.

"Hey.... Shh. Shh. It's okay, little one. It's okay," cooed the woman. "You wanna come on out...?"

And she held out a hand to him. She didn't try to grab him, or scare him out. She simply... gave him a choice.

But it had been too long. He didn't recognize her, neither she him... until she noticed the tail. Then she knew.

"Brian...?" she breathed, eyes growing wide.

He stared at her, nonplussed, still shivering.

"Brian, it's me. Rachel," she beckoned, her hand still in place. But he didn't move. If anything, he frowned at her. "Brian"?

And she tried everything -- talking to him soothingly; offering him a treat from her pocket. Nothing worked. Brain simply hid his face once more, willing her to go away; to leave him be; to, hopefully, not report him to the authorities if they came to call.

Rachel sighed. She sat up for a moment, thinking, and blinked. Struck with a sudden idea, she rested her hands on her lap... and began to sing....

“La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...“

Brain blinked... and lifted his head, ever so slowly....

“La la lu, La la lu, Little soft fluffy sleeper, Here comes a pink cloud for you...“

He stood up... and walked forward, right to the edge of the cabinet. She was still singing.

“La la lu, La la lu, Little wandering angel, Fold up your wings, Close your eyes...”

His mouth was fully open now, his round eyes glossy and getting ever shinier. He couldn't pull his gaze away from her face.

“La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper...

La la lu, La la lu, La la lu....”

Rachel stared at him, smiling. He had completely stepped out from under the cabinet by now, his little body trembling slightly.

"Hello, little star sweeper," Rachel whispered to him.

Breath hitching, Brain ran onto her lap, up her shirt, and clutched tightly to her chest, only a second or two going by before he felt those familiar hands hold him gently, securely.

"Oh, Brian...," she choked, kissing his head. He didn't even flinch.

"Why didn't you come back?" he asked, unable to hold back his tears.

"I couldn't," she answered honestly. "But I was able to keep an eye on you from here."

He sniffed and pulled back a little to look around the room. It was, indeed, a security office, and a fairly high end one at that, decked out with all the works.

"I'm an artist now, but in my part time I take the night shift. They at least let me come back for that, probably 'cause Jackson and Lana are gone now," she chuckled softly. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you this time...."

Brain looked up at her, suddenly understanding. All that time they'd never been caught; never been reported. All those months and years that the camera had simply turned a blind eye to their antics. He thought it was simply negligence. Now he knew why.

"Thank you...," Brain whispered. "And it's... Brain now."

"I know," she smiled. “I still watch tv, ya' know. I just still remember you as my 'Brian'. I'm sorry, Brain."

He couldn't help but smile. All this time....

"Come with me?" Rachel asked him.

"Where?"

"Back to my place. I'll hide you. You can have the guest room, if you'd like."

A sharp knock at the door startled them both, and she quickly ran to her desk, Brain in her hands. She lifted him up and under the desk.

"There's a hidden panel in the roof! Get in it!" she whispered to him urgently.

He found it, albeit with a little difficulty. He pushed at a little area that looked as if it had been cut into... and down shifted a small cubby in which she kept an assortment of odd bits and bobs that were probably not supposed to be in her possession -- special looking keys and badges, among other things. He slipped into it, and Rachel pushed it closed before walking over to answer the door....

Another barrage of bangs thundered at the entrance as Rachel opened it, a hand on her hip as she held the door ajar, doing her best to look as ticked off as possible.

"Sheesh! Gimme a minute to finish pouring my tea! Gosh...."

Outside stood two gentlemen, both in lab coats, looking frantic.

"Have you seen a mouse?" one of them said. He was taller and appeared to be the leader. "White. Large cranium. He was with a companion."

Rachel shrugged.

"Is that what you guys have been looking for?"

"You haven't seen them on your cameras?" the second man asked, panting a little.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, I haven't seen anything."

The men exchanged glances.

"We'd better search the place, just to make sure," the leader said, and without further ado they barged in and began searching every nook, cranny, drawer, and trash can they could. They failed to find the hidden cubby, however. "Can we ask you to roll back the footage?"

"Sure, but you're not gonna find anything," Rachel shrugged again.

They did as permitted, scrutinizing every bit of film captured within the last ten minutes. Although they managed to catch one or two glimpses of the mice leaving the lab, as expected, they couldn't find hair no hide of them on any other roll. Behind their backs, Rachel smirked. Smart little guy. Even on the run, he'd purposely made sure not to walk in the path of the cameras.

After several more minutes of scrutiny, they finally gave up, heading for the door in a huff.

"Sorry for your time. Report to us if you find anything," said the leader.

"No problem," Rachel said, shutting the door with a snap behind them and sighing deeply. Yeah, right..., she thought.

Going back to her desk, she pushed open the hidden cubby. It lowered down and Brain immediately jumped into her hand, breathing rather heavily.

"Sorry, little one," Rachel apologized. I can imagine it's pretty stuffy in there...."

He gave her a look, albeit not a very harsh one. He had no reason to complain.

She raised her hand, allowing him to jump up onto her shoulder.

"They'll be back later to go over more footage," Rachel warned, sitting down at her desk and leaning back in her chair.

"I know," Brain said, licking at his paws and smoothing out his frazzled fur.

Rachel jumped a little and stared at him.

"Heh. I forgot you guys talk now...."

"Is that a problem...?" Brain asked, a little nervously.

Rachel smiled.

"Not at all."

She reached out a hand to scratch at a spot behind his ears.

"What are you...? Ohhhh-ho-ho-ho...," Brain melted, reeling a little at first before giving way to a goofy smile and a thumping foot as he pressed into the touch.

"Still got that little sensitive spot, huh?" Rachel chuckled, her scratches evolving into a head massage.

Brain practically fell off her shoulder, Rachel catching him in her hands and raising him up to eye level, the better to get a good look at him. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. How demoralizing.... But Rachel simply beamed at him.

"You know... I really missed you."

"I... wish I could say the same...," Brain confessed, shuffling a foot. He imagined he had thought of her often, as an infant, but over time the memories simply... faded.

Rachel didn't look upset, though.

"I understand. It's okay. I still love you."

"I...," Brain began, then stopped. No. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Even with Pinky he couldn't ever admit such a thing, and he loved Pinky most of all.

"You don't have to say it. I know you do in your heart," Rachel said, and she kissed him tenderly on the top of his head.

His ears flattened as she did it, and he almost immediately smoothed out the area where she'd kissed him, but he couldn't hide the blush tickling his cheeks and ears. Her behavior was cheesy as all get out, but privately he knew she was right. He did care, even if he'd never admit it.

Just then, something, or... someone, slipped underneath the door. A white-furred, lanky somebody.

"Pinky!!" Brain yelped.

Brain leapt off of Rachel in a flash, landing hard on the floor and limping a little as he ran into Pinky's outstretched arms.

"Brain!!" Pinky shouted right back. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again!!"

He twirled him around in a circle or two before Brain became aware of what he was doing and promptly pushed himself out of Pinky's grasp, clearing his throat, once again embarrassed.

"Y-Yes, well.... I'm... glad you're safe, Pinky," Brain replied awkwardly, patting his companion on the head.

"Ohhh! Who's this, Brain?" Pinky asked, pointing up at Rachel, who still sat in her computer chair, smiling down at them both.

"Umm.... Pinky, this is Rachel. She's... an old friend."

"Nice to meet you, Pinky! I've heard a lot about you. Well, maybe not heard, but... I've seen you guys on the tv a lot!" Rachel said, beaming.

"You have?!" Pinky gasped, clasping two paws to his face in surprise. "Did you hear that, Brain? We're famous!!"

"Pinky, we've been famous many times, all of them never lasting as long as I'd like...," Brain recollected.

"Well, yes, Brain, but never to a friend!"

Rachel smiled and leaned forward a little.

"I have a proposition for you guys."

"For both of us? Is that legal, Brain?" Pinky whispered to his cage mate, looking concerned, to which Brain facepalmed.

"Proposition, Pinky, not proposal."

"Ohhhhhhhhh. Well, that's different then, isn't it?" Pinky said, nodding eagerly to Rachel.

"How would you guys like to come room at my place? Just for as long as you need until you can get off your feet."

Once again, Pinky gasped excitedly.

"Can we, Brain?!"

"Well...," Brain pondered, hesitating. The offer, though generous, made him feel rather... helpless and awkward, as if he was intruding.

"You're welcome to any of the food and stuff. I've got havarti," she smirked.

Pinky gasped again.

"Oh, please, please, please, please, pleeeeaaaaase, Brain?!?" Pinky pleaded again.

"You're... sure you wouldn't mind?" Brain asked. "I'd hate to intrude...."

"My house is yours," Rachel said genuinely. "And it comes with a pool table," she added, winking at Pinky.

Pinky was doing his utmost to contain a squeal, biting his lip and practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Brain rolled his eyes.

"Oh, all right...," he relented.

"YAAAAAY!!" exclaimed Pinky, jumping into Rachel's outstretched hand, followed by Brain, as she lifted them up onto her shoulder.

"You'll have to hide in my backpack on the way to the car," she said. "The next guy is about to swap out with me."

And she pulled her backpack up from off the floor and plopped it onto the desk, opening it up. Pinky sprung off her shoulder as if it was a diving board, plunging into the depths of the backpack, which, by all accounts, wasn't very deep. Pinky didn't seem to mind, though. He had fun "swimming" around amongst the snacks, car keys, pencils, wallet, and little sketchpad all the same. Brain simply shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face. What an idiot.

Rachel was as good as her word. They were given the guest bedroom, along with access to the rest of the house, food included. Provided they didn't draw too much attention to themselves, they were allowed to tinker and plan all they liked within the safety of the back room, and lie low they did, for Acme Labs was on the hunt for a good number of weeks before they gave up on finding them entirely.

Pinky was quite fond of the seemingly unlimited amount of cheese available in the fridge, along with the plethora of movies Rachel had at her disposal. He was often to be found in front of the television, and if he wasn't there he was by Brain's side almost constantly. Brain was most grateful for the space in which to concoct experiments and conjure up plans for world domination, although he had to improvise more often than not, seeing as he didn't have all of the lab's equipment at his beck and call anymore. It was something he sorely missed, but he couldn't say he minded the warm bed and good food that came with their new living quarters either. It was... nice.

Once in a blue moon (which ended up being once a month), Pinky would request Lady and the Tramp for movie night, not just because he liked it, but because of Brain's unusual reaction to it. He liked to watch him subconsciously lean up against Rachel as they sat next to her, eventually breaking down into a fit of silent tears as "La La Lu" danced around the room. Sometimes Rachel would pick him up, holding him close and massaging his head as he calmed against her chest. Oftentimes, Pinky would join them, cuddling up next to Brain as they nuzzled together in Rachel's warm hands.

"I love you, Brain," Pinky would mumble sweetly, giving him an extra squeeze.

"I love you, little one," whispered Rachel, petting him softly.

I love you, too, said Brain in his own little way, holding them both just a tiny bit tighter, a smile creeping its way up onto his face. It was nice, being loved....

~ I love you, too. ~

The End

-------------

The ending of this is meant to be sort of an alternate to Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain. What if they'd ended up there after running away from Acme instead of at Elmyra's?

I didn’t realize until after writing this that it makes no sense for Rachel to be cool with Brain talking one minute, only to be surprised by it the next. It’s a glaring error on my part, but I left it in as a reminder to myself that I need to be more careful. Lol.

Technically, this whole thing is a self-insert, although the name of the girl is not my real name. It’s actually the cognomen of my very first rat. Ha-ha. But the personality of the character is me -- how I talk; act around animals; and most likely what I’d do if put into this situation. The exception is the chase scene. I don’t think I’d act that... panicked? Who knows, though....

This is kind of a way I show compassion for Brain, seeing as I cannot, of course, give him an actual hug. I love Brain more than any other fictional character I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching on screen. It’s not a romantic love or anything. Certainly not. It’s more... maternal. The desire to love and protect is strong. That combination of: individual with a tragic backstory + laboratory setting + main character who happens to be a mouse = the perfect concoction to turn my heart to mush. I owned rats for many years and have a great love for animals, and tend to get attached to certain fictional characters, so here you have the result. He’d be as averse as ever to physical affection, but if I could hold Brain in my hands, plant a kiss on his head, and tell him he’s loved. I would. Thank God for Pinky.

[moving-wright-along]

bury me in your mind

this started as a sort of high school AU but it just turned into a whole nother beast. its a little over 4k words. i apologize in advance. Ticci Toby x a gender neutral reader warnings: mentions of violence and a fuckload of cursing. kinda angsy? but only towards the end

Toby hates high school and he hates every stupid fucker in the whole damn building.

The only exception to his burning hatred is you.

His English class is the only class that keeps Toby sane throughout the day, because it’s the class he gets to sit next to you. People naturally steer away from him once they notice the occasional twitches and jerks of his body, like their tiny brains have an alarm that goes off whenever they see anything that might not be ‘normal’. Toby decided a long time ago that it was probably for the best, and started to avoid everyone else as much as they avoided him. Yet on the first day, you sat beside him without being forced, and with plenty of other seats available.

At first he thinks you’re weird, but you don’t try to talk to him and you don’t flinch or lean away from him when he twitches, so you’re cool in his book.

Toby starts admiring you after about a week into the semester. He’s sitting in his seat, minding his own fucking business because he’s apparently one of the only people in this whole town that can, when some dumbass jock comes up and starts throwing out insults disguised as ‘friendly’ questions about his conditions. Toby immediately has to shove down the urge to sucker punch the idiot in the nose, but he promised his mom to try not to get into fights this year. And hell, he’s a mama's boy at heart still so he’s trying to indulge her. But goddamn is it hard.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” It takes a moment for Toby to register that you were the one that just spoke up.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than insult people over things they can’t control and be fucking annoying? Get a hobby.”

And- Wow, Toby really hopes he’s not as slack jawed as the other guy is, cause he looks like an idiot with his mouth open like that. The guy tries stuttering something out but it's drowned out by several people laughing and a few of the guy's so-called friends jeering him because 'damn dude, the quiet kid just owned your ass’. The teacher steps in and everyone quiets down, their attention thankfully taken off your corner of the room. 

Toby has the decency to stutter out a quiet 'thanks’ that you just shrug off. You instantly became way more than just 'cool’ in Toby’s book.

He wants to say so much more than thanks, like how you’re the first person to stand up for him besides his sister in a long time, and how pretty he thinks you are, but he keeps his stupid mouth shut and his head down. The two of you don’t talk again until a few days later. 

There’s a substitute teacher that day, but they’re clearly not very good at their job considering the class is way louder than usual. Toby grits his teeth and just tries to focus on his worksheet, resisting the urge to clap his hands over his ears. Every noise- every high pitched laugh, every pencil thrown across the room, every scrapping of chair legs on the floor- seems to send him further towards a total breakdown, every one of his senses completely overloaded. He jumps when he feels a soft poke on his arm. You hold out your other earbud to him. 

“Wanna listen?” You ask. He stares blankly for a moment, and he guesses that he waits too long to reply because after a moment you roll your eyes and hold out your hand a little further. 

“Come on man, I don’t bite unless I have to.” You smile a little, and it takes him a second to realize you’re joking. He’s quick to react after that. 

His heart pounds hard as he takes the earbud from you and jams it into his ear, trying not to think about your fingers brushing together for a split second. He spends the rest of class silently noting the titles and lyrics of songs on your playlist as they pass. He ends up listening to those same songs when he gets home, his mind replaying the encounter over and over. 

The two of you could almost be considered friends after that. You share your earbuds with him frequently, you lower your voice and whisper comments or jokes to him occasionally and he always has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from snickering too loud. At first you only talk about assignments and whatever book your class is reading but soon you’re talking about all kinds of things.

Toby notices a lot of little things about you around this time. You sit a little closer to him than before since your earbuds don’t reach that far, and you spend more time zoning out and doodling in class than you do paying attention. You say you hate english but he’s starting to think you just say that to have something to complain about, because you’re not nearly as bad at it as you claim to be. 

Unbeknownst to Toby, you notice things about him too. He shies away when you get a little to close and his breath hitches when you poke at him or whisper to get his attention. Everyone seems weary or even scared of him but you quickly find out that he’s… kind of a dork. He likes to read and loves sci-fi and adventure stories and he blushes when you discover that he likes the occasional romance as well. He talks a lot when you get him going about a topic he enjoys and then gets bashful when he realizes just how long he was talking. He lives close to the woods and he loves being outside and has a strange amount of knowledge about the local flora and fauna. He apologizes too much and keeps his mouth shut tight when other people are around and his voice is naturally kind of soft even though he has a tendency to be louder than he thinks he is. 

You like him. He’s sweet. 

Toby still struggles with people in other classes and in the halls every-fucking-where else, but at the very least he has English with you. 

The year passes quickly. Toby gets you a Christmas gift after the holiday break is over- a pair of new earbuds because you had texted him complaining about your current ones giving out and you feel bad because you didn’t think to get him anything. You buy some random candy since you don’t know what he likes and give it to him the next day and even though you feel like an asshole for not giving him a real gift he smiles at you like it’s the best thing he’s ever received and you silently vow to get him something better for his birthday.. 

You buy him a box of Valentine's chocolates but chicken out before giving them to him so you just lie and say that you got them from your mom and you share the kind of gross candies in the back of class and try not to let the shame show on your face. He gives you a pink frog plushie with a messed up eye and claims he got it because he thought it would make you laugh and it does. You really wish you’d just given him the stupid box. 

You’re getting ready for bed a few days later when you get a text from him. You raise an eyebrow as you cross the room to your phone and look it over. 

‘Need to get out of the house for a while. I was gonna wander around in the woods like a dumb teenager, wanna come?’

You roll your eyes. You imagine that if you looked out the window right now you’d spot Toby outside your house already. Your friend knew you had a hard time saying no to him and abused his power to no end. 

'its a school night dummy.’

'and almost midnight’

‘Yeah… Anyway, how’s that science project that’s due tomorrow coming along for you?’

Shit. You totally forgot about that. 

'asshole’

‘Haha. You could always skip and finish it tomorrow.’

'ugh’ ‘you let me forget on purpose’

‘You have no proof of that.’ ‘I’ll buy you an energy drink and snacks?’

'open with that next time. omw’

At least you were right about him already waiting for you. Toby grins at you a little and you punch him in the arm lightly once you’ve successfully climbed out of your window. True to his word, Toby buys you a Monster and teases you about your flavor choices. 

“The original monster is fucking gross-” You say, scrunching your nose up at the very thought of it. 

“It’s- It’s not that bad! You’re j-just a baby.” Toby argues back as he wanders down the aisles, grabbing whatever snacks and candies catch his or your attention. 

“You’re not even supposed to drink Monster, loser.”

Toby shrugs, ducking his head and hiding his smile behind his hood. You wish he’d smile a bit more openly. 

Toby pays the gas station attendant for your haul and the two of you start walking in the same direction as his house, wandering past it and into the nearby woods. You’re a little freaked out walking around the dark woods at night, but Toby seems totally at home. Although, he practically grew up in these woods, so you suppose it’s only fair. 

“Why the fuck is it so cold? It’s spring.” You complain. You thought it’d be warmer and you’re practically freezing in your long sleeve shirt. 

“It’s barely March.” Toby retorts. 

“Whatever.”

“Wanna wear my jacket?” Toby offers, although he pales when you look up at him and he turns his gaze away. The dark hides his expression, but it’s pretty easy to tell that he’s embarrassed. 

“Sure.” You answer, trying to sound casual. Before you know it you’re wrapped up in his jacket. It’s already a bit too big on him cause he’s way skinnier than he should be so it hangs off your frame and covers your hands. It’s nice, though you try not to think too hard about how much you enjoy wearing it, or how it smells like that awful body spray he uses that you can’t seem to complain about.  

“You sure you’re not cold, though?” You ask.

“Eh. C-CIPA stuff makes feeling temperature we-weird anyway.” He shrugs. You forget sometimes that he doesn’t feel pain. The following silence is awkward and you’re still trying not to focus too much on the fact that giving someone your jacket is an inherently romantic gesture, so you decide to bully him a bit to take your mind off it.

“Where’d you even get this thing anyway? Who in the right mind sells a brown jacket with striped sleeves and a blue hood?” You ask and he snorts. You’ve made it clear before through teasing just how silly you find his jacket’s design to be. Toby rolls his eyes.

“W-Wasn’t always a blue hood. I fell out of a tree once and ripped the original h-hood on the w-way down. Lyra just took the hood off-off one of her old jackets and s-sewed it on.”

You roll your eyes and chuckle. He’s the only person you know that would have a story like that. 

The two of you wander around together and talk, and as you walk you wonder what his reaction would be if you just reached out and held his hand. Too bad you’re too much of a coward to try. 

As if on cue, Toby pauses in his tracks and reaches out to grab your sleeve. He tugs you gently in a different direction. 

“Come on. T-This way.” 

“Where’re we going?” You ask. 

Toby glances over his shoulder at you, and you notice a hint of a smile across his face. 

“There’s this o-old tower th-thing close by. I like hanging out there sometimes.” 

Toby leads you into a clearing, and you find yourself in front of a tall red tower. 

“What is this thing?” 

“D-Dunno. I guess it use-used to be a climbing wall or something.” 

You stare at some of the graffiti on the outer walls as Toby walks around to the other side. 

“Come on!” He calls. You follow him around to the back of the tower and find that one side is open, allowing access to the inside. Caution tape and trash litters the ground inside and Toby is halfway up a ladder to the top. 

“We’re climbing up…? This looks rickety as hell, man.” 

“It’s fine,” Toby assures, pausing at the top to turn and look down at you. “I’ve climbed this thing pl-plenty of times.” 

“I dunno…” 

“Come on. D-don’t be a baby, it’s fine.” He teases and makes himself comfortable on the top of the wall. 

“That’s exactly what the guy says to the girl before something really bad happens in a horror movie.” You argue, though you can’t fight back a smile as you climb up anyway. 

“We’re not in a ho-horror movie though.” Toby says, taking your hand and helping you sit beside him. You sit close to him and your sides press together. You feel a surge of pride when you remember that he used to shy away from you a lot when you first met, but now you can casually touch like this with no issue.

You open and share snacks together, and you let Toby take a sip of your drink to see if he likes the flavor or not. You watch him raise it to his mouth and your brain screams something at you about an indirect kiss and you quickly shove that thought aside and stomp on it.

Sure, Toby is cute and he’s a good friend, but you don’t like him like that. Definitely not. Would you kiss the crap out of his stupid adorable face if you knew it wouldn’t scare him off? Of course. But that doesn’t mean you have some kind of lame crush on him.

“Ca-Can I… tell you something?” He starts, seeming a bit bashful all of the sudden. Your heart kicks into overdrive. Oh fuck, okay, maybe you we’re lying about not having a little bit of a crush.

“Of course.” You say, trying not to let your voice waver. He hesitates.

“U-Uh. N-Nevermind, actually! Heh.”

You raise a brow.

“Oh come on, what was it?” You ask.

“Ju-just!” Toby looks a bit panicked as he fumbles. “Um. Just thinking about th-that book I’m reading. I think I already told you about it though. D-Did I tell you about the main character and his friend’s fight?”

Even if you didn’t know Toby that well, you’d still know he was lying. He’s a pretty bad liar. Your heart sinks a bit but you don’t push the subject.

“Oh, yeah you did.” You say, a little disappointed. Toby rambles for a few minutes about his book and conversation continues easily enough.

“Oh!” Toby jumps, and suddenly turns to you with a big smile. “M-My sister is coming over this weekend!”

“Lyra, right?”

“Y-Yeah. She’s coming to visit f-from college.” He says, and he looks really happy. “Y-you should come over and meet her. She’d l-love you.”

That sentiment makes you feel warm inside. Toby speaks very highly of his sister, so you really hope she likes you.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You say and Toby beams at you.

“You seem excited.” You smile and nudge him with your elbow.

“Y-yeah. She goes to school kind of far away, so it’s been a while sin-since I’ve seen her.” Toby looks away, his tone becoming a bit more serious. “F-for a long time I felt like Lyra w-was the only per-person who really cared about me… W-well. Until I met you.”

Your heart melts a little and you can’t resist letting your head thunk onto his shoulder. Toby stiffens, but makes no move to stop you.

“She sounds great, I can’t wait to meet her.”

Toby hums, and you sit together for a while longer until you realize it’s almost 3 am. You carefully climb back down the ladder, Toby following and you watch as he jumps down the last foot of ladder and lands on his feet with a soft thunk. You’re about to walk off before he catches your attention again. 

“Oh! I-I almost forgot,” He says, then starts examining the walls, as if looking for something. “H-Here it is.” 

You approach to see what he’s talking about, and you find a low section of wall with Toby’s name messily carved into it. 

“Wanna carve something too?” He asks. You hum an affirmative and Toby withdraws a small pocket knife from his jean pocket and hands it to you. 

“I’m not gonna question why you have a knife.” You say, chuckling tiredly as you knelt and began carefully carving. 

“F-For protection, obviously.” Toby says, his tone teasing. “One of u-us has to keep us safe. Since we’re in a horror movie now.” 

You roll your eyes and finish up your carving, moving aside so Toby could see it. You carved your own name underneath his, adding a plus sign between them. You watch him flush slightly, trying not to blush yourself. 

“Now everyone will know we were here together.” You say, justifying yourself as you passed his knife back. 

He walks you home and you reluctantly give his jacket back once you’re in your driveway. You’re about to climb back through your window when Toby speaks up.

“U-um…” He starts. You look back to see him rocking on his feet. He steps forward, and hesitates for a second before pulling you into a quick hug.

“T-thanks for hanging out with me. A-And-and for being my friend. Bye!”

Toby lets go and runs off before you can say anything back. You find yourself grinning from ear to ear as you slip into bed, quickly unlocking your phone and opening his contact.

'you’re welcome, loser <3’

You skip school the next day like Toby suggested, convincing your mom of a killer headache when she comes in to see why you’re not up. You imagine the eyebags from your lack of sleep help your case pretty well since she doesn’t make a fuss about it. You finish up some neglected work and waste the day away. It’s Friday, and you know Lyra is supposed to come into town today. You figure Toby will message you later about plans to meet up.

So you find it strange when you don’t hear from Toby at all that weekend. You feel a little down about it, but maybe Lyra just didn’t feel like hanging out, and he was probably busy with family stuff, so you don’t question it.

When he doesn’t show up to class on Monday, you figure he’s just spending more time with his family. Then, when two more days go by without seeing him or getting a text back, you worry that he got into a fight and got suspended or something. You’re properly freaking out by the time the week is up.

You’d only been to Toby’s house once before and that was only when all of his family was out of the house for the night. Other than that he was always kind of weird about you coming over. If you hung out outside of school it either had to be at your place or somewhere else. And now here you were, marching over to get an answer. 

You notice a car in the driveway and hesitate. You didn’t want to risk interacting with his dad. Toby never told you any specifics, but he seriously hated that guy. You look up at Toby’s window and notice a shadow move across the curtains. He’s in there. 

You don’t want to recreate a shitty teen movie and throw rocks at his window, and if texting him worked then you would’ve gotten an answer days ago. Using the railing of the porch, you haul yourself as quietly onto the roof outside his window as possible. Fuck, you really hope it’s him in there and not one of his parents or something. Gently, you knock on the glass. There’s no response for a minute, and you’re about to knock again when the curtains yank back and scare the shit out of you. You’re met with Toby’s shocked face on the other side, as if you both were equally startled by one another. 

“Uhh… Hi?” You say weakly. Toby struggles to yank the window up and drags you inside. You stumble into his bedroom and his hands grip your biceps hard. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hisses. 

“I was worried about you!” You snap, keeping your voice as low as his. “You’ve been out all week and you never- replied…” 

Your anger completely melts away when you finally get a good look at the state he’s in. His arms and hands are bandaged up and his face is marred with little scratches and a nasty bruise beneath his eye. He raises an eyebrow like he has no idea why you’re looking at him like that. His breath hitches when you absentmindedly reach out and place a hand on his cheek, just below the bruise and rub a bit with your thumb. 

“What happened to you?” You ask, softly. Toby suddenly jumps back, like your touch burnt him. His arms wrap tight around his chest and he avoids your gaze and you try not to be hurt by that. 

“C-Car accident.” 

“You were in a fucking car accident?!” You whisper-scream. 

“I’m fine.” He insists. He doesn’t look fine to you at all. “S-Sorry I did-didn’t tell you. Ph-Phone’s been turned off for a few days…” 

He glances at his nightstand and you follow his gaze to his phone, connected to the charger but the front is completely shattered. He probably just didn’t want to look at it. 

Toby stays silent for a moment before speaking up again. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? No- God no, Tobes, I was just worried. It’s okay, really. I’m sorry I freaked out and climbed onto your roof and knocked on your window.” 

Toby finally grins a little at your remark, but it drops off his face quickly. 

“…You should go. I don’t want my parents to know you’re here.” Toby herds you towards the window, and you go without any struggle. All you wanted was to see that he was okay, and you supposed you got your answer. 

“Alright, alright, but you better text me later, okay?” 

Toby smiles a little again, but it looks forced. 

“Y-Yeah. I’ll try.” 

You head back home, and you don’t get any texts. You spend the next few days in silent frustration while you’re still ignored by your friend. Maybe something else happened that he’s not telling you about? Sure, a car accident is traumatizing, but he seemed more or less okay? There has to be some other reason he’s avoiding you. 

All it takes is a quick scroll through your local news site to find the obituary. Lyra Rogers. Your hands freeze on your laptop’s mouse in silent horror. Holy shit, his sister died in that crash. You’re suddenly overcome with sadness. Toby talked about Lyra a lot- about his cool older sister in college a few towns away who always looked out for him. You never got to meet her. Fuck, no wonder he’s been so distant. 

Every ounce of frustration leaves your body and you slump over. You just accept that you’re probably not going to see your friend anytime soon. You consider giving him your condolences, but you don’t want to risk bringing it up and hurting him more. Besides, Toby’s never been one to want people’s sympathy or pity. You suppose he’ll reach out when he’s ready.

The next few days are sporadic. You get an apology text from Toby and he updates you about his condition, though he’s vague and only mentions that he’s going to see a doctor. You don’t get much else. English class is boring without him. Toby goes completely silent again. 

You figure he just needs time to himself to heal, but you’re constantly worried about him in the back of your mind. One morning you’re passing through the living room while getting ready for school and you pause in front of the TV, your mother having left it on the news. Your heart stops mid beat in your chest. 

Brutally murdered… fire… missing…

You feel bile rise in your throat and you slap a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from being sick, backing away from the TV. Tears flow down your cheeks. There’s no way this is real, right? Toby wouldn’t do that. Your Toby wouldn’t do that. 

You quickly retreat to your room, ignoring your mother's shout from downstairs. You whip out your phone, foregoing your text messages and going straight to calling him. You need to hear from him, you need him to tell you that it was all a lie and that he was innocent. 

Your first call goes unanswered, but the second goes through after two rings. You gasp a little and listen hard for a moment. You think you can hear breathing, the distant crunching of leaves. 

“Toby?” You ask. The call ends immediately. The rest of your calls are unanswered. You resort to texts after a few minutes, hoping that he was at least reading them. 

You skip school the next few days- you don’t want to hear what anyone else has to say on the situation, no one knew Toby like you knew him, and you can’t guarantee that you won’t lunge at someone for bad mouthing him. Although, you never thought Toby would kill someone either, so maybe you didn’t know him that well after all. 

Your life feels like it's falling apart. You’re like a carnival ride violently swinging back and forth between the five stages of grief, jumping around like it’s fucking hopscotch. 

You push yourself out of bed that weekend in a strange rush of determination. You were just making yourself more miserable by sitting around and wallowing in bed all day, you’re driving yourself crazy like that. Pushing past the want to just lay down again, you get dressed and decide to go on a walk. Maybe fresh air will make you feel better. 

Without even trying, you somehow end up close to Toby’s house. For a second, you consider going up to the door and knocking, maybe talk to his mom a bit. You’ve never met her before, but Toby seemed fond of her. Maybe she’d let you, you don’t know, take one of his jackets to remember him by? Or was that way too weird? 

You realize with a sinking feeling that Connie Rogers lost her daughter, son, and husband within the short span of a few weeks. She most certainly has more important things to deal with than some kid showing up on her door and asking to rifle through her son’s stuff. Maybe you could talk to her sometime, but not now. You push past and walk into the woods behind their house, wandering around until you somehow end up at the tower you visited with him only a few days ago. 

You collapse into a heap and slump against the wall. The floodgates swing open and all your emotions come rushing out, and you let them. 

You scream and cry without having to worry about anyone hearing you. You sob uncontrollably for a few minutes, then you curse Toby’s name and yell at him for tricking you into being his friend- then your brain makes you imagine what his face would look like if you had said that to his face and then you’re just sad again. You shrink in on yourself, crying and saying that you didn’t mean it. You don’t know why you bother saying anything to him out loud anyway, it’s not like he can hear you. 

You wish he was dead, that they’d found a body after he escaped. At least then you’d know where he was. Then you could go to his grave and punch his headstone, or you could just sit there and talk as if everything was normal. But there’s no body, so there’s no grave. Knowing that he was likely alive out there somewhere is somehow more painful. 

“You stupid jerk.” You say between disgusting, hiccupping sobs. You wipe at your face with your sleeve, trying to calm yourself.

If only you knew he was hiding up in a tree, a measly few feet away at the edge of the clearing, clutching at his chest as if it would keep his heart from clawing its way out.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 33

First

Previous

Next

Updating today instead of tomorrow so I can spend the whole day on the work I procrastinated :/

~~~

How did she end up staying at Wayne Manor for a week and a half? Deception. She’d never felt more betrayed than she did in that moment. And to think, she and Tim had been friends. 

She’d rolled her eyes when Wayne Manor came into view.

“I can go home, you know.”

“Says the person who got kidnapped on her way there,” responded Tim with a sigh. He paused at the gate as they waited for it to open. “Besides, your ankle’s messed up. You shouldn’t be walking.”

She groaned and tipped her head back against his arm so she could glare at him. “I’m fine.”

He had looked away for a moment, using the gate opening as an excuse, then he started walking. After a while, he hesitantly looked at her. “But I’m not! You got hurt because of me. Please, just... let me take care of you for a little bit.”

Her face burned. “Fine. I’ll stay until Halloween. Happy?”

He seemed to consider this, then shook his head. “But, bean, that’s tomorrow! At least stay here for proper treatment, then you can go.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I could get proper treatment without you.”

He had only sighed in response.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stay until I’m healed.”

“Really?” He asked, his face full of hope.

She nodded.

And then, much to her horror, a smug smile stretched across his face. “No take backs! Sucker!”

Truly horrible. She’d never trust again.

~

Still, she'd be lying if she said she didn’t have a good time.

After ‘convincing’ (begging) them to go to her apartment and get her supplies she’d started working on the outfits for the steadily approaching Gala. She’d intended to do most of her embroidery while she was there, because it was calming and repetitive and she’d be able to relax with Tim... but then Dick had seen what she was doing and had nerded out with her about outfits and design. It turned out one person in their family did have a little bit of style, and she was ecstatic. Now she lazed on his way-too-comfortable bed and worked while babbling on about her designs. And he actually understood what she was saying. It was great.

And, when she wasn’t designing, she’d often be found drinking coffee with Tim (the Waynes had bought another machine for her after the first day’s... ‘incident’). They would lean against each other and drink in comfortable silence, which is exactly what everyone wants in the early morning. Who cares if it was three in the afternoon? With their sleep schedules it was practically like being awake at five in the morning anyways.

At other times she and Jason could be found together. This was less fun, because he was the one most pressed about her ankle. While everyone knew that her foot would probably be fine in a week’s time, he was the one to practically carry her everywhere like a damsel in distress. He’d learned to stop when she kicked him in the shin (with her bad leg, it was not a good time for either of them), but he was still extremely worried for her and not at all concerned with hiding it. Still, he made it up to her by sneaking her extra coffees (Dick had set a limit when he’d seen the way Tim and her binge-drank when with each other).

The only bad part was...

Her and Damian locked eyes across the table and they sent each other a glare. She didn’t even know why his presence irritated her to no end, didn’t know why her veins buzzed whenever he got too close; she only knew that she didn’t like it.

She didn’t act on it that much, surprisingly. She had no real reason to be angry with him, the slight rudeness he’d presented the day they’d met was perfectly justified. Marinette settled for the occasional snide comment at the table.

This only seemed to upset him more and more as time went on.

Finally, when her leg was healed (Jason had managed to convince her to stay an extra day to be sure), he’d grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away from Tim before either of them could really react.

“What’s your problem?” She hissed as he pulled her along, struggling to not spill her coffee due to their brisk pace.

He dragged her into the dojo and crossed his arms over his chest. “Me? You’re the one who’s been rude the whole time you’ve been staying here!”

She couldn’t respond. He had a bit of a point. She settled for sending him a glare over the rim of her cup.

“What do you have against me?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Maybe I just don’t like people.”

“You made friends with the Rogues!”

Oh. So that’s what this was about. She lowered her drink slightly. “Maybe I just don’t like you,” she corrected herself.

Damian scoffed and shook his head. “Whatever. You don’t want to answer? Fine. Fight me.”

Marinette felt like she had whiplash. He’d gone from being annoyed that she wasn’t being nice to him to wanting to fight in approximately half a second. Still, she had to admit, fighting him would probably be nice. Not only did she miss the adrenaline of a fight, but a tiny part of her hoped that her anger would dissipate if she gave him a punch or two.

She set down her drink. “Sure. Whatever.”

He looked a bit smug. They walked along the walls and pulled off equipment that they deemed necessary. Basically they both pulled on some grappling gloves and she added an ankle brace to make sure she didn’t instantly mess up her leg again.

After a few minutes of stretching they squared up to each other on the mat.

She grinned and raised her hands to her face. She didn’t actually know how good he was, but she wasn’t all that intent on going easy on him. They had a dojo, he had to have some kind of fighting expertise, that only made --.

Marinette was pulled from her thoughts as a punch came at her face. She dodged with ease and backed up a few steps, raising her guard properly. All she needed was to take her time to learn his fighting style.

She smiled as she dodged his attacks. He was getting angrier, sloppier, with every miss. His style was getting more and more obvious. Just a few more attacks and she would be completely sure --.

His fist came for her throat.

She had to do a backflip to avoid the blow.

His eyes widened.

She cursed mentally. She’d given up her one possible advantage: the high chances of him underestimating her.

Her element of surprise gone, she forced herself to go on the offense. She threw a short jab at him and raised her eyebrows at the almost practiced nature of his block, like he’d done this exact motion a million times.

Her lips twitched. Amateurs are usually the ones who choreograph their moves like that --.

Realization struck her just as his fist did, sending her back a few steps.

Her body moved on autopilot, sending a kick at his chest to get him away so she could recover. His hand locked on her foot and one of his legs swept hers out from under her. A curse slipped from between her lips as her back hit the mat, but it was nothing compared to her reaction when he dropped a bit of weight on the leg he held. Pain pulled a strangled sob from her throat and she thought her leg would shatter.

Her hand slammed the ground twice.

Damian stopped instantly at the motion a worried expression flickering across his features. Red Hood wasn’t lying, the reaction had been instantaneous in both of them. They’d both been drilled, both had the same cues. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

And, unfortunately, Damian wasn’t completely stupid. She saw confusion find its way across his face. And then shock. Denial. Understanding. Anger. And then acceptance.

He dropped onto the mat beside her and covered his face with his hands. “You’re Ladybug.”

“And you’re Robin,” she agreed, pulling her still throbbing leg to her chest. “You suck with and without the outfit. It makes sense,” she muttered.

And, sadly, it really did make sense. The buzzing under her skin she’d interpreted as anger was just the cat miraculous calling out to her, to its guardian, waving its arms and screaming at her to just let him use it. And, now that she thought about it, it could only have been him. She’d probably recognized the feeling she had around Damian as the one she had around Robin subconsciously and transferred that anger onto him.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she warned.

He scoffed. “Why would I hide it? They already suspect you. Besides, it’s not like the rest of my family would care, they love you with and without the costume.”

She sat up and sent him a glare. “It’s not about that. I keep my identity secret because I want to. It’s my privacy, my secret, and you don’t get to a choice in this.”

Damian -- no, Robin -- no -- He opened his fingers to peek at her serious face and she caught an eye roll.

“And, if you don’t...” She added, her voice sickly sweet. “I’m sure your family would love to know exactly how I found out who you all were.”

It was a guess, really. She assumed that, because they were pretty open about being family as vigilantes, they all had to be in on it when they told someone about their identities. But it was still a guess. She gave him her most confident look so he wouldn’t think she was bluffing.

His eyes narrowed and he sat up as well. She scrutinized his face; she looked for fear or annoyance or something, but he’d managed to put together a perfect mask.

And then...

He sighed and stuck his hand out. “Fine. I don’t tell them anything, you don’t tell them anything. Deal?”

They shook on it.

“Deal.”

~

She spent the next three days (because Jason had thrown a fit when he’d realized she had messed up her ankle more) observing the family. It would be beneficial to learn which bat corresponded to which Wayne, it made it easier to keep her lies consistent.

She could go off of ages, of course. It was the easy way to guess, but she’d never been one to take the easy way.

Besides, the ‘hard way’ wasn’t actually all that hard.

Bruce Wayne was a reclusive billionaire known to adopt kids faster than they could say ‘hi’. Batman was a reclusive billionaire known to take vigilantes under his wing just as quickly.

Dick Grayson-Wayne was an ex-acrobat who was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person. Nightwing incorporated acrobat-like flexibility and technique in fighting and was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person.

Jason Todd-Wayne was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to joke about committing murder. Red Hood was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to actually commit murder.

Timothy Drake-Wayne was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to become CEO of a company at a young age. Red Robin was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to figure out Batman and Robin’s identities at a young age.

Honestly, she felt like banging her head on a wall for not realizing it sooner. Sure, she’d suspected it, but she’d been so determined for ‘proper’ proof that she didn’t realize that there was some pretty good proof right in front of her.

Well, at least she’d figured it out at some point, she supposed.

~

She sent Jason a glare as she scooped some coffee pods into her bag. “I am fine.”

“But --.”

“I am fine.”

He huffed. “You’re still limping.”

“I. Am. Fine.”

He opened his mouth one last time, but was cut off by Tim pushing past him to wrap her in a hug. “Beeeeaaaaan, please let me --.”

She rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to push him off, only detaching an arm so she could drink from her mug. “Not working a second time.”

He groaned and buried his face in her hair. She sighed and glanced at Jason. “Help.”

“Only if you promise to stay a bit longer,” he said without missing a beat, his lips curved into a Cheshire grin.

Marinette sent him a look before leaning into Tim. “You’re all allowed to come to my house at any point.”

“Yeah, but your house is boring,” complained Dick.

She threw a cup of coffee creamer at him and he dodged it without even sparing it a glance.

“It’s true, bean, it’s pretty empty in there.”

Marinette laughed quietly. “Fine. If you guys don’t like it then you’re not allowed back.”

Jason gasped and joined the hug. “How dare you?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to trap me here?”

“Whaaaaat? Us? No,” said Dick as he, too, walked over and wrapped his arms around her.

Marinette decided she’d give them a few minutes. She could still reach her coffee, and that’s all that really mattered.

At least, until she saw Damian in the hallway. Her shoulders tensed slightly at the sight of him. Ever since their agreement they’d come to a kind of truce. After all, if they really wanted they could spill the secret. Sure, there was incentive to keep quiet, but if one of their tempers got the better of them...

“Help?” She tried.

He looked away and continued walking, leaving her to suffer.

She sighed and went to work prying arms off of her. There was a lot of whining, but none of them resisted.

Outside of Tim.

Dick broke into a grin and pulled Jason out, yelling that they were going to help pack her stuff over his shoulder. She didn’t believe that was quite it. For some reason.

“Tim,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Come back for Thanksgiving?” He asked.

She blinked. A little over a month beforehand he’d been desperate to keep her away from this place. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Fine. I’ll stay for Thanksgiving. But only if you let go.”

“Fine.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows when he didn’t let go immediately.

“Um...?”

He smirked. “I said I’d let go, I never said when.”

She groaned and pushed him off. This time he let her. “You’re so annoying.”

“You love me.”

“Mmm,” she said, determined to not say yes or no.

He didn’t seem to notice, giving her a wide grin. “Right, ready to go?”

She smiled. “Yep!”

~~~

Taglist

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<3

[softboywriting]

Fight For You | Part 1

Summary: Your whole adult life you’ve dated mixed martial arts fighters, it comes naturally with working and living in and around the fighting circuits. After a fallout with your now ex-boyfriend you find a new place to start a new life where you find someone who is willing to fight for you as much as you are for him. Will you be able to build something beautiful or will your past come back to haunt you? [fighting] [asshole ex]

Word Count: 13k

Authors Note:  None of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics on any platform.

|Masterlist In Bio|

Moving to a new town in a new state is a fresh start for you. After a rough year dealing with an asshole boyfriend, leaving said boyfriend and losing your job, you have to find a new place in life. The world is a clean slate for you and Red Lake is where you’re ready to put down some roots and start over. Your best friend Jodi and her wife live there and they’re the closest thing to a real family you have left so choosing Red Lake was a no brainer.

"So, how's the apartment?" Jodi asks as she unlocks the back door of the gym where she works. Her wife Harlow is the owner and a former female MMA fighter. "It's not too shitty I hope."

"Oh I didn't get the apartment. I got the house on Garden Plaza. The one Harlow said her friend was renting out."

"Oh yeah! Fuck, I totally forgot." Jodi holds the door open for you and you wander into the back storage room. It's full of old mats and various pieces of equipment in need of repair. "When does the truck arrive with your stuff?"

"This week. The drivers said tomorrow but I'm not counting on it."

Jodi pushes open the door to the main hallway to the gym floor and nearly smacks into someone. "Holy shit!" She leans on the door and you step forward to see who she hit or just got scared by.

"Are you okay?" A voice says from beyond the door and a head pops out. "Sorry Jodi."

"God! Why are you here so early!" Jodi asks, ushering you out into the hall. She closes the door and you see a guy in a fitted black shirt and a pair of grey sweats standing behind the door. He's oddly familiar.

"Harlow asked me to come in and...wipe down the mats." The guy stares at you and you stare back. You know him. Those chocolate curls, soft eyes, and sharp jawline are unmistakably familiar. You just can't put your finger on it.

Jodi waves her hand in front of his face. "Shawn? Earth to Shawnie boy!"

Shawn Pierce. Shit, yeah it's coming back to you. Tate trained with him about a year ago when he was trying to get into the western region MMA championship circuit. You were never properly introduced but you did talk a few times. Tate didn't bring you by the gym a lot, he claimed you distracted him.

"You're Tate Greyson's girlfriend right?"

"Ex." Jodi snorts and you shove her shoulder. Shawn raises his eyebrows.

"I was, yes. We're not together anymore." You chuckle and shake your head. "Not that we were ever that together in the first place."

Shawn narrows his eyes at you and you shift uncomfortably. "Did he hit you?"

"What?" Your eyes go wide.

"The bruise on your collarbone."

Jodi leans in and pulls your shirt aside a little bit. "Oh shit, what happened?"

Suddenly you remember the bruise in question. You had fallen off the step ladder in your apartment back home while taking down your plant hangers. "I fell while packing up my apartment." You pull your shirt back to show Jodi more of the yellowing bruise. "I swear Tate never hit me. It's been months since I've seen him."

"Oh thank God." Jodi sighs and pulls out her keys. "I'd kill him myself if he touched you."

Shawn steps back and rubs his neck awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed anything."

You lean against the wall as Jodi walks up the stairs to her office door. "No, it's fine. Tate is a bit of a loose cannon, but he never hit me."

"Yeah, he was a tough one." Shawn folds his arms, stretching the tee across his chest and you can't help but stare. He shakes his head. "He never did like to listen, always just wanted to swing hard and fast, no finesse."

"Should have seen him in bed. Same tactic."

Shawn's eyes widen and you realize you didn't really need to tell him that. You flush and he just laughs. "Man he must have pissed you off if you're out here dragging him like this."

"Yeah he did." You roll your eyes at the thought of Tate. Everything he did pissed you off. Silence falls between the two of you and you push off the wall. "I'll see you around?"

"I'm here just about every day." He puts his hand out for you awkwardly and you take it, giving an oddly formal shake. "Are you going to be here a lot?"

"Dunno. I got a job at Dixie's down the street but I work nights. So I might come around a bit."

Shawn drops your hand and runs his hand over his hair. "A waitress?"

"Bartender." You smirk and he grins. "You can stop by, I make a good gin and tonic. I'm allowed discounts for family and friends."

"I'm a friend then, eh?"

"Oh I'm sure you'll be a friend." You look him over and bite your lip. "Maybe more."

Shawn grins and you can't miss the pink that spreads across his cheeks. "You're bold. I like that." He steps back and turns to go out to the main floor. "I should get back to those mats now."

"Mmmhmm." You wave him off. "See ya."

Jodi clicks her tongue and you steps out of her office. "You are so predictable." She says from the top of the stairs.

You jog up to meet her and give her a look. "What? Because I think he's hot?"

"No, because he's a fighter." Jodi rolls her eyes and sinks into her chair as you follow her into the large room. "You only date fighters."

"Says the woman who married one!"

"Hey, I don't count. Harlow is the only fighter I ever dated and I didn't even know she was a fighter when we started going out."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. So I got a type. Whoopty do."

"At least Shawn's a good one."

"You saying I have poor taste?"

Jodi picks up a few large envelopes and stares at you over them. "You're joking right? Tate? Remember that hot garbage of a few months ago?"

"Yeah but Chase before him wasn't garbage."

"Chase was a two month fling while you worked the circuit with me. Was he ever anything?"

You flop down onto the couch under the window that overlooks the gym. "I guess not. So what, Shawn's a fighter and I like fighters. Maybe he'll be a keeper."

"Ex fighter."

"Hmm?"

"Shawn's an ex fighter." Jodi types aways at her computer and you wait for her to continue. "He doesn't fight anymore. What?"

"He doesn't? Why? He looked healthy."

"Personal choice. Harlow has been trying to book him on the circuit for years. He keeps in shape and trains other fighters for Harlow but he's not getting in that ring for anything. It's a shame, he was a two time champion."

You look out the window to where Shawn is running along the mats on the far side of the gym with a towel. You wonder what made him stop competing. A guy like him could take out anyone his weight. No doubt. You'd seen him spare with Tate once when he trained with him. Shawn has the skill, what would drive him to waste it?

_____________________

Dixie's is a hole in the wall kind of place. Definitely a local spot and everyone in town goes there. It's a bar and restaurant that serves your classic American staples, burgers, fries, steak and sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but the food is good and homemade. The day time crowd at Dixie's is mostly families, regular customers on their lunch breaks or afternoon meetups, occasionally a truck driver or two since it's on the edge of the town. The night time crowd at Dixie's is much different, very adult orientated. They didn't let kids in after eight since that's when most of the drunks and party goers start showing up. Most people know to avoid Dixie's for a late dinner lest you be caught up in a fight or have to listen to some guy babble on about the good ole days for four hours.

You work the night shift at the bar. You don't mind, you tended places much worse. Hell, you lived in Vegas for a year after graduation and that's where you learned to bartend. When you're raised in hell, the rest of the world doesn't seem so bad.

"Hey! You made it!" Carrie says from the door to the kitchen. "I was worried you wouldn't come back after last week."

"What? Greg? Please, I've dealt with a lot worse then having a drink thrown at me and being called a raging bitch." You place your purse under the counter behind the bar in a little safe. Carrie didn't fuck around when it came to safety and personal belongings in her bar.

"Oh thank God. Greg is an asshole but if you made it through the night with him I think you'll be alright."

"I worked in Vegas, Carrie." You grab your apron off the wall beside her. "I've seen shit. Greg, ain't shit."

Carrie looks incredibly relieved. "I've had four bartenders walk out because of him."

"Yeah, well, they weren't me." You wave to one of the waitresses, Sammy, coming in for her shift. The two of you hit it off really well last week so you're excited to work with her tonight."Besides, I'd like to stick around."

Carrie pushes open the kitchen door and you follow her in. "Oh yeah? Find a love interest?"

"I don't think I'd call him that yet. But I'm definitely interested." You grab a few plates off the warming table to help Carrie serve them. "We've met before."

"Oh wow, coincidence huh? You just moved here right?"

"Yeah. It's so weird, but he's a fighter who trained with my ex boyfriend a year ago. I guess I'm bound to meet people from the same circuit."

Carrie chuckles and leads the way with her arms full of plates. "You like those fighters huh? We got a lot of those type around here."

"I do." You fall silent as you help Carrie serve the large group of middle aged people at the front of the seating area. As soon as you're done Carrie walks with you to the bar.

"Anyway, those fighters are always coming in here. I don't mind the business of course, they eat a lot. But some of them also drink alot and bar fights between fighters is a nightmare."

"Don't worry, I can handle them." You wipe out some glasses on the drying station and Carrie starts going through the liquor stock to see what she needs to bring out of the back for the night. "I swear, I'm sticking around."

Carrie pauses and looks over at you. "You seem pretty set on it."

"Yeah, I am. Things are good here. I have my own place, I'm near my best friend, there's a hot fighter who I wanna get to know. It's good. A fresh start."

"I'm happy for you dear." Her hand comes down on your shoulder and you look over at her. She's smiling, her big round glasses sitting too low on her nose. She blows a stray curl out of her face and pats your shoulder a few times. "You're a good kid."

"I try to be." You chuckle. "Anyway, looks like it's kicking off early tonight." You point at a group of guys who have just walked in, some fighters by the looks of them. Out of circuit fighters, the kind who drink too much and let their bodies get weakened by alcohol. You scoff to yourself. Frat boys with too many muscles and big dreams but no dedication. A bunch of Tate Greysons'. It's gonna be a long night.

___________________

"Pierce! Focus!" Harlow yells from the office doorway at the top of the stairs. Shawn is standing in the ring with his client for the day but he keeps looking over at you where you're talking to Jodi near the bathrooms.

You look over and bite your lip, knowing you got him in trouble. "Anyways, as I was saying," you turn back to Jodi and she's grinning. "What?"

"Harlow is gonna kick his ass if he doesn't stop gawking at you." She looks up at her wife through the window and she's pacing the office, watching Shawn like a hawk. "You're quite a distraction."

"I don't mean to be. I'm just standing here for fucks sake." You gesture to your jeans and plain tee shirt. "I'm not even dressed up!"

Jodi laughs. "Shawn's just soft, he's got your attention and he doesn't want to lose it. I don't know the last time he had a girlfriend."

"Really?" You look back. "A guy like him has been single for-" Shawn gets clocked in the head. "Oh shit."

Jodi sighs. "Moron."

You jog over to the ring and hold onto the cage, staring at Shawn on the ground. "Are you okay?!"

"Dude, you went down like a sack of bricks." The other fighter says, kneeling on one knee beside Shawn. "Dude?"

"Is he knocked out?" You ask, walking along the ring to climb the stairs at the open entryway. "Shawn?"

"I haven't been hit that hard in years." Shawn groans, eyes closed. "Good left hook, Connor."

"Thanks, but for real are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Shawn sits up and holds his head. "Y'know no matter how many fights you're in, and how much training you do, getting hit hurts worse when you're not expecting it."

"Getting hit hurts in general." You laugh and help him up on his feet. "And you would have expected it if you weren't staring at me."  

Connor snickers.

"I was not staring." Shawn stretches his arms and shakes off the hit.

"Yeah? Why'd you get hit then?"

"We're sparing."

"Uh huh." You look to Connor. "Did he seem distracted?"

"Very."

"Mmm thought so." You turn and walk out of the cage with a glance back with a small smile.

Shawn calls out to you as you cross the gym floor. "Wait, what's that supposed to mean?!"

"Stop staring at me and actually talk to me is what it means!" You laugh and meet up with Jodi outside the office. "God he's ridiculous."

"He hasn't asked you out yet?"

"No! It's been a week since we met. He just stares at me when I'm here and occasionally says no more than four words to me." You glance over and Shawn and Connor have changed positions so Shawn is with his back to you. "I think he's shy."

"Shawn? Nah. He's sweet, always has been. I think he's just cautious because he knows you just got out of a relationship, and one with a former trainee of his too. I'd be cautious."

"Well light a fire under his ass for me will you?"

Jodi gives you a thumbs up. "I'll get right on that boss. Matchmaker Jodi Price is on the case!"

"Oh shut up. Just talk to him?"

"I will." Jodi grabs her keys from Harlow as she steps out of the office. "We'll be back later honey."

"I'll pick up dinner." Harlow looks out at Connor and Shawn. "If I'm late it's because I've got two man-children to deal with."

"Easy on him. He's got feelings for our girl here."

Harlow rolls her eyes. "I don't pay him to have feelings."

"You're such a hardass, Harlow." You laugh and she smirks. "I promise I'll try not to stop in too much when he's training Connor."

"Yeah yeah." Harlow waves you off. "Get out of here, go have fun."

"Picking up furniture at Ikea isn't fun." Jodi says in annoyance.

"Mmhmm. Sure its not. Bye bye." Harlow walks toward the window to the gym floor and you wave goodbye.

"Come on." You put your arm around Jodi's shoulders. "Let's go build some skeptical furniture and relive the good ole days."

Jodi laughs. "Yeah, the good ole days of duct taped chair legs and book balanced tables. God I hope these Ikea things will be better than our crap back then."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

_____________________

Building furniture is a nightmare. You and Jodi spend an hour putting together a dresser that you end up abandoning in favor of Chinese take out and a rerun of Chopped you hadn't seen before while sitting on the boxes for your nightstand and kitchen cart. You still have both of those items plus your bed frame to build. You'll get to it eventually.

Eventually leads to three days later and you still have the boxes propped against the wall of your living room where you and Jodi abandoned them after dinner. Every day you walk past them and think, maybe that day, but then you keep going. It's not until today, Friday, your day off, that you might actually get them built.

"Hey, what're you doing tonight?" Shawn asks as he steps down out of the cage. You've been watching him spar with one of the other trainers for an hour now after stopping by to help Jodi read over some paperwork for the gyms lease.

"Me?"

He grins. "Yeah, you."

"Building furniture for my house."

He chuckles and sinks into the chair next to you, observing two fighters now sparing on the mats nearby. "Sounds like a wild time."

"Oh it will be. I'll probably decide to get drunk halfway through and just say fuck it again." You laugh to yourself. "Drunk lonely furniture building on a Friday night. I've reached my peak at age twenty four."

"Need some help?" Shawn looks over and you raise your eyebrows. He is really making a move. Finally.

"You sure you don't have some floors to clean or something?" You ask, referencing the last time he tried to get out of your attempt to instigate a date. He is a weird one, definitely interested but hesitant for some reason. You get what Jodi said, about him being cautious because of your past with Tate but it's been almost five months. You're ready to move the fuck on. You gotta make it clear to this man you're ready.

Shawn smiles and looks away. "Okay, fair enough. Just call me out why don't you?"

"Yeah? You realize you've been dragging this out?"

"Yeah yeah. So can I come over?"

You grin and cross your arms. "I guess. What do you drink?"

"Tequila?" He says with a smirk as he starts unwrapping his hands.

"I'm not buying tequila. I don't know about you but tequila fucks me up and I will make some bad decisions."

"Me too, maybe we should go for it then."

"Absolutely not." You reach over and grab Shawn's hand as he picks at a piece of the fabric that's tucked too tightly under another. "How about we just start with some hard lemonade or something?"

Shawn smiles and closes his big hand over yours. "It's a date then?"

"Is it a date?"

"Could be."

"Let's just call it hanging out for now." You place the coiled up wad of wrapping fabric in Shawn's hand. "Now, I'm going to get lunch at Dixie's. You want something?"

"Nah, I brought lunch." Shawn looks over at the sitting area where Harlow has set up a refrigerator, a stand with a microwave and a few little tables with chairs. "Leftover chicken and rice."

You stand and Shawn stands with you. He flexes his hand a few times to work out the stiffness of it being bound too tight in the wrapping. You head for the office stairs to see if the ladies want lunch too. "I'll let you know when I'm heading home so you can follow me."

"Works for me."

"Oh, and don't wrap your hand so tight next time." You point at his hand. "You should know better."

Shawn grins sheepishly. "Maybe someone else should wrap it for me?"

"Maybe." You smile and he just grins.

_____________________

"Hey Jodi have you seen- oh." Shawn leans against the door as he looks between you and Jodi on the couch in the office. It's almost seven and you had completely lost track of time.

"Yeah?"

"Whatcha doing?"

Jodi holds her half wrapped hand up to show Shawn. "Teaching her to wrap."

Shawn smirks. "Your ex never taught you?"

"Tate didn't like having me around too much when he was fighting. He said I distracted him. So I didn't get to wrap his hands but once or twice."

"What a dick. Well I'm done cleaning up for the day, are you ready to go?"

Jodi raises her eyebrows. "Y'all have a date? And you didn't tell me?"

"It's not a date." You roll your eyes. "He's just going to help me with the furniture."

"So he's gonna be at your house with you alone?"

"Yes." You stand and Jodi unwinds her hand. "Now don't say another word missy." Jodi just snickers and you grab your purse. "Let's go Shawn."

An hour into furniture building and you're sure you're going to combust. Shawn is so big and thick, and close. He's in a pair of tight black jeans and a black tank top, having forgone his shirt almost as soon as you started working. He is just...he's too much. You thought Tate was big, you thought Tate was ripped and he was but not like Shawn. The way Shawn is built and the way he moves so fluidly is just...it's enough to stop your heart.

"Hey, hello?" He waves his hand in your face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah?"

Shawn chuckles and leans back on his forearms. "What'd I say?"

"Hello?"

"Nope. I asked you if you wanted to get dinner."

"Oh." You push your hair back out of your face and look up at the clock over your kitchen table. "It's almost eight. Shit."

"So? Do you work tomorrow?"

"Yeah in the evening, but I didn't mean to keep you this late."

"It's not late?" Shawn laughs. "It's no big deal. I'm off tomorrow. I'll order something and we'll keep putting together this bed frame, sleeping on a mattress on the floor is bad for your back."

"Mmmhmm. Sure you don't just want to stay late to get me on this bed after we put it together?"

Shawn sits up, leans forward onto his hands and knees, face close to yours as he pushes himself up off the floor. "Oh I'll be much more upfront when I wanna do that." He pulls out his phone and you flush hot. "What sounds good? Pizza? Wings? Chinese?"

"Don't you need to eat healthy?"

"I do." He smiles over at you. "It's alright to indulge now and then."

"Oh."

"None of this is going away because I eat some pizza now and then." He gestures up and down himself. "I know that sounds incredibly pretentious but I worked hard for this strength. I'm having pizza." He puts the phone up to his ear and walks around the room aimlessly as it rings.

"Tate never wanted to get dinner. He said it'd ruin his diet." You stand and look around at the scattered pieces of the bed frame and your stomach rumbles loudly.

"Yeah because he was an idiot." Shawn says softly before answering the phone and placing an order for a medium taco pizza.

You raise your eyebrows and he grins. How did he happen to know your favorite pizza? There was no way he could have known or guessed. Taco pizza was not an every day order.

"Thank you bye." He pockets his phone. "Anyway Tate was obsessed with his eating habits. I remember sitting him down and explaining that he actually needs to eat real food and not protein shakes and supplements for every meal. He didn't ever listen though."

"Yeah he was an idiot, okay, but how did you know I like taco pizza?"

"Wild guess."

"Uh uh. Who told you?"

Shawn holds his hands up. "Honest to God, you want the truth?"

"Yeah. Who was it?"

"No one. Seriously, it was a wild guess. I like taco pizza and I noticed you have little taco magnets on the fridge and a taco pillow on your couch so I figured maybe you like them too. Seriously, it was a shot in the dark."

You stare at him slack jawed. He had been in your house for an hour and he noticed your taco magnets? That was...just so...weird? What else did he notice? You look around your room suddenly very self conscious of everything you have sitting on the dresser and nightstand. "I...I don't know what to say about that."

"About what?"

"About how observant you are."

"Oh. Should I not be?"

"N-no, I mean, it's fine? I've just never had someone pay attention to my stuff I guess."

Shawn chuckles and gets down on his knees to start taking the rest of the bed frame pieces from the box. You definitely don't miss how his ass is perfectly accentuated by the dip of his jeans. "Well, I like your place, it's interesting and cozy. Sorry if that's weird, I don't mean it to be."

"It's fine." You get down next to him, eyes still on his butt and he hands you a bag of screws. "It's just different. You're different." He leans forward to grab a bar from the frame and the way his back curves makes you want to grab his ass so bad. It's perfectly round and you just want to feel it so badly.

He glances over with a smile as he sits back on his knees. "Is that good?"

"W-what?" You feel a flush on your cheeks. Was he talking about your staring? Was he good? Because yes, a thousand times yes he was.

"Is it good that I'm different?"

"Oh! Yeah, very good." You smile and look down with a chuckle as you dump the bag of screws into a little Tupperware bowl he hands you that you've been using for small parts so nothing gets lost. "I like different."

"Me too." He grins and you meet his eyes. "Let's get this bed together so we can relax when the pizza gets here."

"Sounds like a plan."

_____________________

"Busy night?"

You look up from the back of the bar and see Shawn sitting a few seats down from you. He's smiling, hair pushed back looking like a damn angel in his white tee. The bar has been crowded for two hours now, a huge bachelor party of some sort taking up most of the space in the building. You and Sammy have been working double time to get food and drinks out as quick as possible. Big parties of guys meant big tips, keep them happy, keep that tip growing.

"Yeah." You glance over to the loud crowd nearby. "Bachelor party."

"I see. Must be fun?"

"For me or them?"

"Both?"

You chuckle and walk down to stand in front of him. "Is it fun making drinks? Yes. Is it fun watching a bunch of twenty some year olds get hammered while getting hit on by every one of them? Not so much."

Shawn waves off a drink offer as you gesture to the bar behind you. "I just came by to see how you were doing. You haven't been by the gym in a few days."

"Oh, you noticed." You lean back and smile. "I've been working doubles. Carrie has had a cold and I didn't want her to push herself. I'm a lot younger, I can't handle a few days of work."

Shawn cracks open a peanut from the bucket on the counter for customers. "You're a sweetheart." He grins and pops the peanut in his mouth. "Glad you're alright though."

"Did you think I was avoiding you?"

"Nah. Well, a little?" He chuckles and hangs his head. "Honestly I thought I fucked up the night we put together your bed."

You step forward and fold your arms on the counter in front of him. "I'd tell you if you fucked up. Trust me, you haven't done anything to put me off."

"Good. What do you say to lunch Wednesday?"

"I'd say I hope you like Dixie's pulled pork special because that's where I'll be."

"You work dayshift again?" He shakes his head.

"Yep. My last double."

"Okay, alright. I'll stop by?"

"I'd love it."

Shawn looks over at the party of guys getting loud again. "I'm gonna head out before that gets too wild. Stay safe honey."

"Bye Shawn." You roll your eyes at his ridiculous pet name and he waves as he heads out.

____________________

"How's Connor doing?" You ask as you watch the young fighter spar with one of the other guys while Shawn is taking a break in the office.  

"The kid is insane. He's fast, strong, smart too. He reminds me of myself when I was nineteen."

You look over and Shawn is tossing a stress ball up at the ceiling casually. "Connor is nineteen?"

"Yeah." He looks over with a grin. "Why? Thought he was cute?"

"Shawn! God, no. I'm just surprised Harlow took on a guy that young."

"I was too. I remember when Connor walked into this gym. He was a short little sixteen year old with no intention of doing anything but bulking up a bit."

"He didn't wanna be a fighter?"

"Nope." Shawn chuckles. "He came to take some HIIT classes and some CrossFit bullshit Harlow had let a trainer do for a few months. I think once he saw me and Mike in the ring he caught the bug."

You watch as Connor takes down his opponent, pinning him to the mat. Shawn's right, he is fast and strong for his size. His practice opponent is easily twenty pounds heavier than him and he is taking him down like it's nothing. "You think he's gonna make it to championship finals?"

"He going to make it to nationals if I have any say in it. He has what it takes, he's got the heart and soul of a fighter. You don't see that everyday. I've trained a lot of guys in the last few years and they just don't have what Connor has."

"Has any of your trainees made it to the championship circuit?"

"No. Not yet." Shawn looks over and you chuckle. "What? You think I'm not good at training?"

"Not that. I'm just laughing because your last trainee was Tate right?"

"Yeah."

"He definitely didn't have what it takes."

"He didn't. He couldn't listen, just wanted to do what he thought was right. You'd think when a two time western champion and two time national finalist takes the time to train you, you might try and give a fuck." Shawn sits up and squeezes the shit out of his stress ball. "Tate honest to God pissed me off like no other."

You raise your eyebrows and giggle. How funny it was that the two of you shared the same distaste for Tate. "He was something."

"No. He's nothing and he's never going to be until he gets his head out of his ass."

"Harsh."

"You think so? I'm sure you've thought the same thing."

You smirk. "I've definitely thought worse."

"And I'm harsh?"

"I haven't said it out loud." You scoff and lean back in Jodi's chair. "But someone should."

Shawn stands and walks over to the desk. He leans forward and smirks. "I'd tell that sorry piece of shit every single thing you wish you could say to him. I'd hand deliver it to him right in his smug fuckin jaw."

"Easy tiger." You run your hand up his arm, fingers curling against bicep and he drops his head. "No need for the violence. Fighting is an art not a brawl."

"You-"

"I'm using your own words against you?" You smirk and stand up, checking a message on your phone from Sammy about stopping by for tips from last night.

Shawn straightens up with a grin and shakes his head. "You remember me telling Tate that?"

"It's the first thing I ever heard you say to him."

"Tate is a dumbass for losing a woman like you, y'know?"

"Yeah." You walk around and past Shawn toward the door. "But if he wasn't, I wouldn't have ever found a man worth fighting for."

_____________________

Wednesday afternoon is a shit show. For some reason there are a couple day drinkers in at the bar and they won't stop bugging Sammy. She's covering a shift for one of the other waitresses, Megan, since it's her birthday and she's seriously regretting it. Day shift is supposed to be easy. The worst part being an occasional kid throwing food around. Poor girl.

"I just can't do it," Sammy hisses as she stands beside you at the end of the bar at the wash station. "That guy over there has been harassing me non stop. I've tried everything to get him to fuck off."

You take a look over at the end of the bar and you know exactly which guy it is. He's in his thirties, probably an insurance broker or real estate agent by the looks of his tailored suit and gray temples. He looks older than he should. There's a glass of whiskey in his hand that you served him about ten minutes ago. He's the one you were about to cut off and send packing anyways.

"Want me to make him leave?"

"Do you have a bouncer?" Sammy glances over your shoulder. "Because I don't think he's going to leave so easily."

"Well, how about we make him realize you're not into him?"

"By doing what?"

You smirk and set down your dirty glasses into the sink. "I can stage kiss you. I used to do it all the time with my friends back in Vegas." You look down at the guy. He'd definitely fall for it, he was too drunk to see straight. "We'll make a show of it."

"I don't know." Sammy twists her hands in her apron. "Maybe he'll just leave?"

"Sammy. He's not gonna leave if he thinks he has even an inkling of a chance." You pull Sammy down the bar closer to where the creep is sitting. "It's up to you. He's watching us right now."

"Okay, okay." She shakes her hands out and puts her hand on your shoulder, going up to your neck. You can see her glance over at the guy. "It's working he's watching intently."

"Good." You cup her cheek and bring your other hand up to here jaw and cover her mouth with the side or your palm as you pretend to kiss her. "Is he looking?"

"Mmhyeah."

You pull back and give Sammy a hug before going down the bar to the creep. "Do you need a refill on that?" You ask, pointing to his nearly empty glass. You weren't really going to give him a refill, he'd had more than enough.

"No." He grumbles and stands up. "I'm going home." He passes you his credit card and you settle his tab. "Thanks."

Sammy beams from her spot by the liquor shelves. "I can't believe that worked!"

"Almost every time." You walk over and hand her the ones the creep had left as a tip under his cup. "For you dear."

"Thanks." Sammy pockets the bills and smiles. "I wish I had you years ago."

"Well I'm here now." You ruffle her hair and she ducks away. "Do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Keep an eye out for Shawn? He is supposed to be coming in for lunch."

"Ohhh." Sammy smirks. "You got a little crush on the big boy?"

"Obviously." You toss your bar rag over your shoulder and head for a lady who's just walked up at the end of the bar. "How couldn't I?"

"He's a good one!" Sammy laughs and heads off to check on her tables while you get back to bartending.

_____________________

Shawn never showed up for lunch. You can't say you weren't a little disappointed since you had made plans, but you understand that he may have gotten busy at the gym. Things happen. It isn't a big deal.

You stop by the gym the next day to help Jodi with registration for the fall championship circuit for the western region. She had to have all of the fighters from Harlow's registered and ready to go by Monday. It is a ton of paperwork and you know what to do, so you volunteer to help out before work.

"Can you go get Jack for me? I need to talk to him about getting me a copy of his physical."

"Yep." You push away from her desk and head out the door. The locker rooms are to the right of the main floor of the gym and you head there first.

"Dude, I saw her kissing Sammy."

You freeze and listen to the conversation you've walked up on. It's clearly Shawn.

"So? What's the big deal?" It's Connor.

"I thought she was into me. We've been flirting and stuff and then I walk into Dixie's for lunch and she's kissing the waitress! I thought she was into guys!"

Connor laughs and sighs. "I dunno dude."

"I can be into both." You say, stepping into view and getting a good look at Shawn in nothing but a towel. He's dripping wet and it's so hard to focus on the conversation at hand, you have to look away. "Maybe if you wanted to know what was going on, you should ask me?"

Connor's eyes go wide and he looks between the two of you before ducking his head and squeezing around Shawn to make himself scarce.

"I know you can like whoever you want...I just thought..."

"Shawn." You walk over to him and lay your hand on his chest. He's warm and damp and oh Lord when he shifts you can feel the muscle flex. "Relax. I pretended to kiss Sammy so a guy at the bar would stop harassing her."

"Oh."

"Is that why you didn't show up for lunch?"

"Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck. "I walked in and saw that kiss and I didn't know what to think. I'm sorry, I should have asked you."

"It's fine. I probably would have been really confused too." You look him over and he smirks. "I swear I'm still very much into you."

"Yeah? Enough to go on a real date?"

"Mmm I think it's time we did. Any plans?"

Shawn grins. "I have a few. How's this Saturday night sound?"

"I'm off. What time?"

"Six? I'll pick you up. Wear something comfortable and not too fancy."

You raise your eyebrows and he just keeps smiling. "Alright. I'll see you then. In the meantime, have you seen Jack? We need a copy of his latest physical for the registration."

"He's probably out on the floor. If you didn't see him, check the backroom because he might be resting on the spare mats."

"In the storage area?"

"Yeah." He chuckles. "He likes to meditate and listen to his audio books back there to relax."

"Oh. Well thanks." You pat Shawn's chest and he traps your hand under his, curling his fingers around yours. "Yes?"

He bites his lip and shakes his head before releasing your hand. "Nothing. Go on."

"See you in a bit."

_____________________

"Do you still do photography?" Harlow asks you Friday day while you, her and Jodi sit in their living room while going over travel plans for the out of state fights in this year's competition.

"A little bit. I don't do anything professionally anymore."

"But you have your camera?"

"Yeah of course and my lenses. Why?"

Harlow grins. "If I hire you, will you do the photography for the website? I need pictures of all the guys for the brackets this year."

"Sure I can do that. I think I have a my backdrop stuff still as well."

"You'll probably get to photograph Shawn too." Jodi pipes up from where she's typing away at the laptop. "You could take a few just for yourself."

"Jodi!"

"What?"

Harlow groans and shoves her wife's shoulder. "I'm hiring her for a professional shoot, quit teasing her."

"Yeah yeah."

"What time do you want me to stop by? I'm free this weekend and next Thursday all day. Otherwise I work after six."

"Stop by whenever you want. I'm sure it'll take a few days to get all the fighters done and we have a few weeks before fights start. We'll start with Connor when you do get set up. He's my headliner. I'm banking on him hard so I want his photos to be really good."

"Yes ma'am."

_____________________

"So you're doing photos for Harlow?"

You look over at Shawn from the passenger side of his truck. He'd picked you up at a little after six and still wouldn't tell you where you're going. He did make you change into an old pair of jeans instead of the black skinnies you had on and promised you wouldn't regret it. You're almost convinced he's taking you mudding outside of town because you've been driving for twenty minutes and you're still not sure where the hell you are.

"Yeah, I'm doing photos for her? Why?"

"No reason, I was curious."

"You want me to take pictures of you too?"

"I'm not a fighter in the circuit."

"So?"

Shawn looks over and raises his eyebrows. "So why would you take pictures of me?"

"Because you're gorgeous." You look out the window away from him, heart racing at your admission. "I'd die to photograph you in action. You're a rarity, perfect from every angle. It'd be a treat."

"I had no idea you were so into photography. That's awesome." He bumps your leg and you look over. "I'd love to see what kind of photos you take at matches."

"I've taken some good ones. But like I said, I really want to photograph you."

He chuckles. "Sorry sweetheart. I'm retired." He turns the truck down a dirt road toward a big sign that says Pierce Ranch.

"You have a farm?"

"No, my uncle does."

"Why are we going to your uncle's farm?"

"Because I'm taking you horseback riding."

"What? You're serious?"

Shawn turns the truck into a long driveway in front of a big sprawling house. "Dead serious. My uncle is out of town for a few days and he said we could come out and spend some time out here."

You sit stunned in silence. Horseback riding as a first date. Who thought of that? It's so off the wall and incredibly romantic.

"Should we go back?"

You snap out of your thoughts and look over at Shawn as he kills the engine in front of a set of garages. He looks worried. "No, why?"

"You're really quiet. If you don't want to do this we can just go to dinner or something. I know it's kind of different and-"

"I want to go horseback riding."

"Oh." He smiles big and you can see the relief on his face. "Okay good. I'm really looking forward to having you meet my favorite horse."

You put your hand on the door to get out. "I can't wait."

An hour later and you're set up on a horse named Butters, his favorite, and you're strolling along side Shawn on a well worn path around some trees behind the barns. You were nervous at first, needing Shawn's help to stay on the horse but eventually you got the hang of it.

"So, you must really like horses then?" You giggle, looking over at Shawn during a lull in conversation.

"Yeah. I used to spend every summer here with my Uncle Carlos. I still come out here pretty often when I need to relax and get away from it all."

"Ahh, I can see why. It's nice." You bite your lip and glance over. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?" He chuckles. "Usually that's how dates go."

"Why don't you fight anymore?"

Shawn is quiet. You know it's a sore subject, seeing as no one really wanted to get too in depth when they talked about Shawn's past. You're curious though. A man like him with his skills and experience could still be in the ring.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

"No, I-I knew you'd ask eventually." He sighs and guides the horses to a clearing in the trees. He slides off and hitches his horse and then yours to a tree before helping you down.

"Seriously, you seem uncomfortable to talk about it. We don't have to."

Shawn stuffs his hands into his pockets as the two of you head for a bunch of rocks. There's a stream nearby and you can hear the water trickling along the rocks you're walking toward. This place is incredibly serene and you feel bad for bringing up such a tense subject when the date has been going so well.

"So, three years ago I won my second championship." Shawn drops down onto a large flat boulder. "But, the fight was so intense I almost killed my opponent. Now I know, fights get rough and tension runs high in the ring when there's a lot of money and a title at stake. It wasn't about that though. I kicked my opponent so hard he dropped, he just went down, lights out. It wasn't until after everything was said and done I found out he had serious brain trauma from the fight, particularly from my kick."

You sit down next to Shawn and grab his hand. He rubs his thumbs over your fingers gently before continuing.

"I found out he had a newborn baby. I accidentally almost killed this man and took him away from his child because of a sport. I had to stop after that. I couldn't do it anymore."

"Oh Shawn." You squeeze his hand and he looks at you. "You didn't kill him though. He's fine, he's alive and with his child. It is part of the risks you take as fighters."

"I know. I just couldn't deal with that sort of thing happening again. I've made my peace with it and with fighting."

"I understand." You scoot a little closer and he runs his free hand over his hair. "You're a great trainer. Maybe being a fighter isn't for you anymore, but your skills aren't wasted this way. Do you want to fight?"

"To be completely honest, yes. I want to fight every single day, I itch to compete and I think that's why I push Connor so hard. I'm living vicariously."

"Maybe you could do some small time stuff? Not such high stakes?"

"I can't." He shakes his head. "When I'm in the ring I don't stop, I fight hard until I'm out or I win. It's all or nothing."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But anyways, I'm happy training." He smiles, soft and small but genuine nonetheless. "I'm proud to be training a fighter like Connor."

"Good. That's what matters." You bite your lip and giggle to yourself. "I much rather see you like this then all beat up anyway."

"Oh yeah? Not into the black eye and busted lip look?"

"Not on you." You reach out and tenderly turn his face to you. "You're too gorgeous to see damaged."

"I'm gorgeous?" Shawn smirks and runs his hand over your hair. "I think you're mistaken. You're the gorgeous one here." He cradles your face in his hand and just stares at you lovingly.

"No, definitely not." There's a moment where you're both staring at each other's lips and you both know that you want to make a move but it's too soon. Or is it?

Shawn's hand slides away from your face and he stands, offering to help you up. "Let's go back. I've got stuff to make dinner."

"You're making me dinner?"

He hauls you up against him. "Mmhmm. You can help if you'd like." He holds you steady by your hips. "How does spaghetti and meatballs sound?"

"Really good."

"Good." He puts his arm around your shoulders and starts walking back to the horses. "Because when we both have garlic breath the rest of the night won't matter."

You laugh and he just beams at you. "You're something else." You run your hand over his back and he leans his head on yours. "I like it, I like you."

"I like you too."

_____________________

Wednesday night comes around again quicker than ever and Dixie's is crawling with people. All the fighters from Harlow's have showed up to celebrate the announcement of the western circuit championship bracket. Shawn shows up a little after nine and you can't help the smile that spreads across your face. He smiles back and makes your heart beat faster. Things have been going incredibly well with him since the date at the ranch. You're falling hard and fast and you don't really want to stop.

"Hey darling," Shawn says over the loudness as he leans against an empty spot at the bar. "How's it going?"

"Packed! Harlow brought all the guys and their friends and families in! It's crazy."

"Good for business though."

"Very. Carrie is moving faster than I've ever seen her go. We've had to pull Dave from the kitchen twice to help me catch up with drinks. We're gonna need to restock." You laugh and point back at the bar. "My tips are racking up fast too."

Shawn looks you over in your required black tee and apron. It's nothing special, but you know it looks good on you and so does he. "You deserve every dollar you get tonight. You're working hard."

"I am. Can I get you something?"

"Just a diet coke is fine. I'm taking it easy in case anyone needs a ride home tonight."

You turn around and fill a glass from the soda guns attached to the counter. "Enjoy yourself, you got most of these guys to this competition after all."

Shawn raises his drink to that and smiles. "I'm going to go hang out with Connor and Jack. I'll check in later?"

"I'll be here."

Two hours later and you are pushing through the kitchen doors to find Carrie. There's a guy who's harassing you and he's way more wasted then he should be, you've only served him three drinks and they weren't that strong. You suspect he may be taking something along with his drinks and Carrie won't have that sort of activity in her establishment.

"We've got a problem." You state angrily, gripping the doorway to the walk in cooler. "It's that asshole who's been trying to get my number since he sat down."

"Yeah?" Carrie turns to look at you as she hauls out a box of burger patties for the cooks. "Is he tweaked out?"

"I think so. He just grabbed my chest when I leaned over to hand some drinks to a guy beside him."

Carrie is livid, her eyes look like she could kill a man with her bare hands and possible has before. "Oh he's gone, I'm gonna-"

A loud crash from beyond the kitchen stuns you both and not a second later Dave, the line prep cook, throws open the door to the backroom and says there's a fight in the front area. Carrie drops the box of burgers in the cooler and closes the door as she hightails it to the front with you on her heels.

The scene before you is not pretty and immediately you think that it's one of the fighters involved. You're right. It's a fighter. But not a current one. It's Shawn and he is standing in front of the bar squared up with the drunk grabby handed guy. There is an overturned table and chairs and you think Shawn's already knocked the asshole down once, or he stumbled into the table and fell.

"Shawn!" You try to yell over the crowd but it's way too loud.

Carrie pushes past you and shoves her tiny frame through the crowd. You decide to go around to get behind the bar and as soon as you do you see a mess of shattered glass and ice on the floor.

"Shawn!" You shout, hands cupped around your mouth. "Shawn stop!"

He isn't listening or he can't hear you. Either way he's swinging at the drunk guy again in defense and before anything can get worse, the cops show up. You watch as the crowd separates and drunk grabby hands gets cuffed while Shawn tries to talk to the cops. It's no use and you watch them walk Shawn out of the bar as well.

You lean on the counter with your back to the door as the two guys get escorted out. Great. You can't help but feel like this is your fault. Shawn must have seen the move grabby hands pulled and approached him. You run your hand over your hair and look to Carrie as she steps behind the bar.

"God damn fighters. This is such a mess!"

"Yeah it is." You chuckle dryly to yourself. "It sure is."

______________________

You didn't think you'd ever be waiting in the lobby of a police station at three in the morning but here you are. Harlow was going to come with, in fact she was going to go alone and bail Shawn out but Jodi was absolutely trashed and you know she needed to take care of her over Shawn, so you said you would go. Besides, you wanted to talk with him one on one about the fight and why it happened.

You hear Shawn before you see him. He's coming down the hall behind the check in desk. "What do you mean my girlfriend came and-"

"Hey," you wave and he walks over to you quickly and hugs you tight.

"Thank God you're okay."

"Of course I'm okay. What would have happened to me?"

Shawn pulls you back and holds your face. "I couldn't find you after that guy put his hands on you. I was worried you left Dixie's or he did something."

"Shawn, he was wasted. What was he going to do to me? He could hardly stand."

"I don't know. I approached him after I saw what happened and he was talking all this shit like what he wanted to do to you. God it was disgusting, and then I didn't see you around and I panicked."

You cup his face and he has a bruise blossoming on his left jaw. "So your instinct was to fight him?"

"He came at me. I was just going to get some of the guys to help me escort him out but he started swinging as soon as I said he needed to go."

"Well it's done and over with now." You turn and head for the doors. "I'll take you to get your truck at the bar."

The ride to Dixie's is quiet. The dark streets are empty, illuminated only by the soft yellow street lights that have been there for far longer than they should be. Seriously the light is so dim it hardly lights up the road. You turn down the street you live on to take a shortcut to Dixie's and as you pass your house you glance at it instinctively.

You slam on the breaks just past your driveway. "What the fuck?" You put the car in park and squint at your darkened front door, or lack thereof. The door is open, gone by the looks of it.

"Don't get out of the car." Shawn warns, flipping the lock button. "Someone could still be in there. Call the cops and back up out of sight."

You fumble with your phone and put it up to your ear. You report the break in and your street name. As soon as you're done you reverse down the street until you're a few houses away.

Shawn reaches over and lays his hand on your shoulder. "Do you know anyone who might have done this?"

"No. I have no idea. I don't even have anything worth stealing!" You lean your head on the steering wheel. "I don't understand. Could this night get any worse?"

"Don't say that." Shawn rubs up and down your back. "It's not the end of the world. We'll find out what's going on."

"What if I had gone home from Dixie's? What if I didn't come pick you up?" You look at the darkened house. "What if I was there?"

"You weren't. That's what matters. Look," he points to a police car coming down the street. "Here comes the cops."

"Will you go in with me?"

"Of course. You think I'm gonna just stay in the car?" Shawn grabs your hand and kisses it gently. "Come on, let's go talk to the cops."

An hour later and you've filed a full report with Officer Jones. There was nothing stolen as far as you can see. The house is fine, completely in order except for your room. Your dresser had been torn through and your closet emptied out, bed sheets and blankets torn apart too. You have absolutely no idea what someone was looking for and Officer Jones kept asking if you were completely sure you didn't know who could have done this.

It's nearly five in the morning and you are exhausted. The sun is coming up and the sky outside is getting brighter by the minute. You need to sleep and you don't feel safe in your house with the door broken and your bedroom torn apart.

"Grab some clothes, I'm gonna take you to my place." Shawn says, walking around your mess of a bedroom. "We'll take care of the broken door frame and stuff later."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Come on. I know we're both exhausted so I'll drive and we'll pick up my truck tomorrow. We need to rest, it's been a long night."

You grab a tote bag from your closet and throw a few shirts and jeans in it with some underwear. "I could stay with Jodi."

"I really would feel better if you stayed with me." Shawn takes the bag from you as you grab a pair of shoes and socks by the dresser. "Are you okay with it?"

"Of course Shawn." You join him by the door and lay your hand on his shoulder. "I trust you. We'll go to your place. If you want to take that stuff to the car I'm going to grab my camera gear. I told Harlow I'd start doing photos tomo- today." You sigh. "Well, I'll try and get everything set up after we get a few hours of sleep."

"I'm sure she'll understand." He rubs your back and you lean your head on his shoulder. You're absolutely at your limit, body ready to collapse on the next available soft surface. "I'll be in the car. Don't take too long."

"I won't."

_____________________

When you wake up you have no idea what time it is. Shawn's room is bright and you look around for some hint that he is there. He had insisted you take his bed and he'd sleep on the couch. His bed smells so good, like fresh laundry and his cologne. Warm and spicy, it is absolutely perfect. You reach for your phone on the nightstand and see it's just after noon. There are three missed texts.

Harlow: are you coming by to do the shoot today?

Shawn: I'll be at the gym, take it easy and help yourself to the fridge.

Harlow: nvm please rest I talked to Shawn

You close your eyes and flop back onto the pillows. You promised Harlow you'd be by to take some photos, at least some of the ones for the gym website. You turn over and curl up with Shawn's spare pillow, pressing your face into while opening Shawn's text to reply.

You: is Harlow mad I didn't make it?

Shawn: no. I explained the situation and she's more worried about you than anything

You: tell her I can still make it in to set up at least

Shawn: okay. If u are coming by bring me an extra shirt? I forgot to bring one for post workout.

You: okay no prob.

You glance over at his dresser and then back to the window opposite you that over looks the tree line behind his house. It looks like a nice day, it'd be a shame to waste it but you aren't feeling like going out. You just want to stay curled up in his bed forever. Yesterday was so draining with everything that happened and you don't know how much you can handle without snapping at someone. Rest had definitely helped but you still feel uneasy about the break in. It just seemed so targeted like Officer Jones said, but you can't imagine what someone would want from you.

Eventually you get up and make your way down stairs to the kitchen. Shawn's place is beautiful, it truly is. It's very much like a modern cabin and you're not surprised since it's just outside of town in the woods. He's got a few neighbors but it's not like a usual neighborhood setting.

You grab a protein bar from what you assume was once a fruit basket. It looks good enough and you grab your purse from the living room, stuffing one of Shawn's tees into it before you head out. You pause, looking down at the white shirt hanging out of your purse. You go back into the bedroom and take a blue shirt from Shawn's dresser before stripping off your top and pulling the white tee on over your head. It's a little big but it fits well enough and you smile to yourself in his mirror. You grab your purse and head for the front door.

The drive into town is quiet, a little long, but it's nice. It's one long road that winds around the woods in a circle and then turns out on to Main St that you take all the way into town. It's basically a cul-de-sac but in the woods. The whole time you wonder if you should stop by the house and check on it, or if you should call Officer Jones and see if they have anything to go off of. You're really banking on one of your neighbor's having a security camera or something that spotted the intruder. Though your street is so dark at night it's hard to see anything anywhere.

You turn into the lot behind Harlow's and park beside Jodi's Jeep. You unload your backdrops and stands, carrying everything in the back door. You're met with Connor whos grabbing some tape for a mat from the storage room and he offers to help.

"Look who I found," Connor announces as you walk out onto the gym floor with all your stuff in hand.

Shawn walks over from boxing with a stand up bag. "Hey darling," he takes your camera bag and stand case. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes." You smile softly. "Your bed is very comfortable."

"I'm glad." He rests his hand on your lower back. "Is this my shirt?"

"Maybe."

He grins and kisses your cheek. "It's all yours now. Looks good on you anyway. Any word from Officer Jones?"

"Not yet. I'm sure he'll call tonight or tomorrow."

"You can stay at my place as long as you need to."

You stand up on your toes a bit and kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

"Alright love birds break it up." Jodi says loudly, clapping at the two of you. "Before you start getting set up I wanna talk to you about what happened, I need to know who I'm going to skin alive."

"We don't know anything yet Jodi." Shawn says with an eye roll. "I told you that."

Jodi snorts. "I'm still going to kick someone's ass."

"I promise I'll let you know who to hunt when we hear back from the police." You say softly and Shawn gives you another kiss on the head before heading back over to the cage with Connor. Jodi puts her arm around you and the two of you head to the backroom that isn't full of old equipment to set up your camera.

_____________________

Photos go well, you manage to get all the guys done in a few hours. You'll go home later and look them over to decide if you need to reshoot anything. But for now you are finished and starting to pack up.

"Hey, you forgot one."

You turn and look at Shawn standing in the doorway to the backroom where you're set up. "I did?"  

"Yeah. Me." He grins and steps in, closing the door behind him. "I thought you couldn't wait to get photos of me."

"Well, I figured I could get them any time."

"Oh? You think I'll pose for you whenever you like?"

You smirk. "You might, but I want to take candids of you."

Shawn wraps his arms around you and you lean back into his chest. "Candids huh?" He noses against your ear, hand going over your stomach. "Like private candids of me in my bed, laid out on the sheets holding my-"

"Shawn!"

He chuckles deeply and you can feel your body get warm, heat pooling between your legs. "Is that not what you want?"

You turn around in his hold and run a hand over his hair. "I want so much more from you then a couple of photos."

"Yeah? Tell me what you want."

"Oh you know...all the good stuff."

"The good stuff?" He walks you back against the backdrop and you bring his head down, foreheads rolling together. "This kind of good stuff?" He asks lowly before he kisses you softly.

"I know why you came in here." You whisper between kisses, hands going up and down his back. "You're jealous."

He lets out a growl as he kisses along your jaw. "You think I'm jealous of my fighters?"

"Your fighters hmm?"

"Mmm. I'm partnered with Harlow." He pulls back to look down at you. "I own the gym with her. I thought you knew?"

"No, I had no idea. She seems so bossy and it's called Harlow's so..."

Shawn plays with the ends of your hair, twisting his finger around bits of it. "She already had the place, I just bought in with championship winnings to keep it open. She runs the business side with Jodi and I run the gym floor as you can tell."

"Wow. So Connor and the other guys in the circuit this season is a huge deal for you."

"Yeah. A win from one of them could mean we expand Harlow's, new equipment, more fighters. With four guys going this year we have a good chance, and with Connor, we have the odds in our favor, I think."

You grin and shake your head. "Our first kiss and here we are talking business. Y'know if you were anyone else I'd have left by now."

"But I'm not anyone else." He leans in and bumps his nose to yours. "I'm special huh?"

"Oh you're special alright."

Shawn gives you one more kiss before he laughs and pulls back. "Let me make it up to you. I told Connor I'd go to dinner with him at Dixie's to talk about his first fight and what to expect. We can go a little early and have some time to ourselves first. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a date."

"Oh it's not necessarily a date, but it could be."

You smile and he just holds your hips looking down at you. "Come on, enough staring like weirdos. I'm hungry."

____________________

Dixie's is packed when you arrive but you manage to get a table near the bar that's a small two seater. You see Carrie running around like a mad woman and two of the day time waitresses are running around behind her. The place is popular this time of year with fighters and their crews moving into town and nearby during the first part of the western circuit. That's what Carrie told you anyway during her briefing on what to expect and how she deals with the increased number of fights during this time of year.  

"Is that Connor?" Shawn asks, pointing to a table behind you. "What's he doing here so- oh I see."

You turn and look over at where Shawn is pointing to a corner table where Connor is and leaning on the table in her work clothes is Sammy. You smirk, it's about time they talked. Sammy has been eyeing Connor for weeks but she's hesitant because he's a fighter and she knows what the lifestyle entails.

“They’re kids, leave 'em be.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sammy is a good girl. I’m not worried about it.”

“She is. She also knows what it’s like to live with fighters. She told me her brother was a fighter.” You shake your head. “I think she said he went north to try for the canadian championship but he didn't win and ended up settling down up there”

“I knew her brother Devin, we fought a few times.” Shawn smiles over his drink. “The guy was really good, he gave me a run for my money.”

“Oh yeah? Did he train at Harlow’s?”

“No, no it was way before then. When I was nineteen he was twenty one, we went a few rounds in my first championship entry. I didn’t win that year, I got too cocky and big headed. He was a tough dude though, if Sammy is anything like him she’ll keep Connor in his place.”

You chuckle. “Sammy is very shy, I’m not sure she’s like her brother at all.”

“The shy ones are the ones you gotta watch out for.” Shawn smirks and you roll your eyes.

"Anyways, you said I could stay at your place again?"

"Mmhmm." Shawn smiles and chews on his straw. "I definitely don't mind."

"Good. I'm nervous about going home until we find out more from the police. It's feels like such a personal attack since they went through just my bedroom and didn't even take anything." You shake your head and lean you chin on your hand on the table. "They didn't even take jewelry. Someone wanted something from me."

"Maybe they thought it was someone else who lived there?"

"I don't know. I hope there is video footage from one of the neighbors that shows us something."

"They're gonna check with the neighbors for you?"

"Yeah, Officer Jones called while I was photographing Gauge. He said they're gonna canvas the area, ask for surveillance from anyone nearby and see if they can't get a suspect or even a car or something."

Shawn leans back and crosses his arms. "Y'know I was actually thinking, do you think it could be Tate? I didn't want to say something about him to the cops but is there something you have of his?"

You raise your eyebrows. You hadn't thought of Tate being a suspect. Hell, you were two states away from him now and it's been months since the break up. "I don't think I have anything. I gave him everything back, all his clothes and anything he ever bought me. I left it all in a box in our apartment."

"It was just a thought."

"No, it's a good one. He is crazy enough to do something like that." You roll your eyes and flag down Carrie to pay for your drinks. "Maybe I can call him, or I could try his sister Maggie."

"I'd try Maggie if you have a good relationship with her. If it was him he probably won't want to talk to you."

Carrie stops by the table and hands you your bill. "Have you seen Sammy?"

"She's over there with..." You look around for her and Connor but neither are at the table in the corner anymore. "Well she was here. Is she working tonight?"

"Yeah. Her shift starts in five minutes." Carrie takes your cash and you wave her off for change. "You say you seen her?"

Shawn chuckles. "She was with Connor."

"The fighter?"

"Yeah, my champ." Shawn stands and gives you a look and you nod, letting him know you don't mind if he goes looking for the two of them. "I think I know where they are."

Carrie raises her eyebrows. "Well if you find her, tell her to get her ass to work."

"Yes ma'am." Shawn smiles. "See you at the house." He squeezes your shoulder and heads for the front door.

A minute later Sammy comes walking in very flushed and you can't help but smile to yourself. She's got a flower tucked into her hair and you think her and Connor must have been sitting out on the patio since the flower is definitely from the pots out there.  

____________________

You get to Shawn's place a little after eight. His truck is in the driveway so you know he's there. The sun is starting to go down and you are tired from working on photos and stress from the break in. Your brain is absolutely taxed. All you want is some dinner and a soft bed. You turn the handle to the door and walk into music blasting from the kitchen. It's some eighties hair band and you chuckle to yourself as you walk across the living room to find Shawn around the corner shadow boxing at the stove shirtless.

"What's for dinner?" You laughs and he looks back around with a grin. "Smells good!"

Shawn turns and shuts off the music on his phone. "It's chili. I figured it's pretty easy to throw together since I got home just a few minutes ago."

"Why not order something?"

"Eh, I like homemade." He stirs the pot around. "I haven't had it in a while, I thought it'd be nice."

You walk around the island and take a look into the pot. It's not chili. Well, it is, but it's not what you were expecting. "What kind of chili is this?"

"Chili Verde. My dad's recipe. Wanna taste?" He spoons some out to cool in a little bowl on the counter.  "I promise it's good."

You smile. "I'm sure it's very good. What's in it?"

"Pork, onions, green chilies. I cheated and used a bottle of premade chili verde salsa for a starter since I don't have time to stew tomatillos and green chilies for hours." He spoons some up for you and you take a bite. "Good yeah?"

"Hot." You cover your mouth. "It's kinda spicy but I like it. It's good."

Shawn beams and scoops out two bowls to cool. "I'll finish getting dinner ready, go change and relax."

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for making me dinner."

"Of course." He kisses your nose and your heart skips. "Go on."

Post dinner you're sitting on the couch with Shawn watching some ghost hunter show. He's got his arm around your shoulders and you're tucked into his side snugly. It's comfortable, being with Shawn feels incredibly natural. He's warm and safe.

"What're you doing next Sunday?" Shawn asks as he tucks his feet against yours where your legs are outstretched on the ottoman. "I was thinking if you're available we could go out."

"I work the late shift but I can see if one of the guys can cover for me."

"I don't want you to miss work. We can go another day."

"No, I want to go. It'll be a nice escape from the stress around here." You run your hand down his forearm and slide your hand into his. "Are we going to go horseback riding again?"

Shawn squeezes your hand. "Nope. I have another idea."

"What is it?"

"I'm not telling." He grins at you and you narrow your eyes at him. "I can surprise you again can't I? It's more fun that way."

"I'd like to see what tops horseback riding."

"I have a few ideas. Don't worry." He glances at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. "I should go to bed, I have a seven o'clock session with Jack tomorrow." He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. "Do you mind if I take the bed?"

"Nope. I don't mind sharing."

"Sharing? You're ready for that?"

You push off of him and stand up, putting your hand out to him. "I'm ready for anything with you."

He takes your hand and stands, pulling you against him. "Anything huh?" He runs a hand over your hair. "Falling a little fast aren't we?"

"I don't mind." You wrap your arms around his middle. "We work well together. I've never felt this comfortable and free around someone before."

He hums. "It feels natural. I completely understand."

You scratch at his back gently and he smiles down at you. "Let's go to bed. You need to be up early."

"Mmm I could always reschedule if we wanted to stay up late." He runs his hand down your back and over your butt. "I'm sure Jack won't mind."

You shake your head and laugh. "No, you're not cancelling work because of me. We can sleep together any time."

"Well don't make it sound like we're an old married couple, jeez."

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him quickly. "Maybe it's good practice for the future."

"Wh- oh." He grins. "First kiss and you're planning our future all in one day? Damn."

"Oh shut up." You pull away and head to his bedroom. "Come on, chop chop. The bed awaits."

_____________________

You wake up in the middle of the night and you're freezing. It doesn't even feel like there is a heater on in the house. You roll towards Shawn and slide your arm around his middle, spooning him from behind. He shifts. A soft grunt followed by a mumble of incoherent sleep laden words. He's like a furnace, body radiating into yours.

"You okay?"

"Mmhmm." You press a kiss to his hair. "All good now."

"I missed this." He places his hand over yours on his chest. His heart beats in time with yours, a cadence of comfort in the night. "I missed being held."

"It's been a while?" 

"A long while. I didn't like to date when I fought. I only wanted to focus on my work." He chuffs. "I'd deprive myself to be the best. Stupid huh?" 

"No. You thought it'd help. It must have, you did win." You flex your fingers against his skin, blunt nails scratching him lightly. "Do you like being the little spoon?" 

"Love it. There's something about having someone smaller than you curled up and wrapped around you that I just love. I do like being the big spoon too, but I really enjoy being held sometimes." 

"I'll hold you any time." You give him a squeeze and he tangles his legs with yours. "You're like a big teddy bear."

He chuckles and that's the last thing you hear before you fall asleep to the sound of his soft breathing and the beating of his heart under your fingertips. 

-------------------------

End Part 1

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Thank you for reading! Part 2 will be out sometime in the future as I have to write the ending still, but it’ll be another 13k at least. Thank you all again.  - A

[ressyfaerie]

Fic request; (sorry if this isn't a personal headcanon of yours) Kai comes out as nonbinary & the team are largely accepting. Tyson takes longer than the rest to understand and pesters Kai with all his questions & general Tyson-ness. Doesn't have to be shippy but would be a nice bonus!

Oh I love this! I’ve read about someone's headcanon being Kai as nonbinary! As someone who also struggles with their gender identity this will be fun to write! I’m excited! But I understand this can be a sensitive topic for some people, so I’ll throw it into a readmore. It’s not my personal headcanon but writing this will be interesting and fun! I’m adding some Ressyfaerie flare so I apologize if it’s not exactly what you imagined! <3

The team had noticed Kai’s subtle attempts to experiment lately.

Wearing clothes that weren’t his normal style, the most surprising was the almost crop top Tyson immediately pointed out. Ray noticed the extra makeup he occasionally wore under his blue shark fins. His dark coloured clothes would occasionally be more pastel. He went to a school across town, so they didn’t see him most of the day; regardless they still noticed a change in his attitude. With each passing day, he became more comfortable with himself.

Today started off as any ordinary training day in the dojo. The team showed up after school and huddled waiting for Tyson who generally showed up late. Kenny opened his laptop in the corner, Hilary showed up with snacks attempting to bribe the team into showing her new blading techniques. Max and Ray stayed close, talking strategy or gossiping about what happened at school. Today Max wore a frilly green skirt overtop of white leggings.

“Hey! I was wondering where that went!” Hilary gasped when she saw it.

“Sorry Hil!” Max shrugged with a smirk.

“When I said you could borrow my clothes I didn’t mean keep them in your closet for a rainy day!”

“Hehe, sorry. I’ll buy my own, I’ll give your stuff back.” She glared at Max, “promise…”

They heard the door open. As good teammates they had all memorized the way their friends did everyday things, opening doors, walking, you name it.

“Here comes grouch of the year.” Max groaned.

“He’s been a lot better lately, give him a break…” Ray patted Max’s shoulder.

The door to the dojo slid open, Kenny looked up from his computer for a moment, “hey Kai!”

“Hey Kenny.”

Kai gave him a look that might have been a smile… or a judging glare… Who could tell at this point.

“Oh! Kenny smiled while pointing at Kai’s hand, “pretty colours!”

“Kai, I love them!” Max bounced over and grasped one of his hands inspecting the nailpolish. “Did you do them yourself?”

“Y—yeah… thanks.” Kai gulped.

Ray looked at them over Max’s shoulder. “Blue and red, good choice, any special occasion?”

“No. I just like doing them sometimes. It… makes me feel good.”

“Hey that happens to me too!” Max’s eyes shimmered.

“I haven’t worn nailpolish in public yet…” Kai looked to the ceiling and looked back down to the group. “I know it’s not normal.”

Ray chuckled, “it’s normal Kai.”

“What is normal anyways?” Max let go of his hand.

“You make a good point.” Kai nodded his head in response while looking at his hand.

The door to the house flung open, they could hear someone kick their shoes off and groan.

Tyson…

They all knew it was Tyson, but Kai worried about him. He was painfully aware that Tyson would have something to say about his new look, even though Tyson enjoyed doing much the same things, he always had to point it out!

The door to the dojo was thrown open, Tyson burst through, “hey guys!” Tyson grew a huge smile while looking at his friends. Then he looked at Kai and his mouth grew into a gasp.

Kai rolled his eyes.

“Look at you, Kai! Someone has been working way too hard to be a pretty boy lately!”

Kai sighed, and Max knit his eyebrows.

Max whispered in Ray’s direction, “I think I get it...”

After a while they drifted into their work. Kenny and Tyson analyzed something on his computer. Hilary badgered Tyson to show her a new move. Kai fiddled with Dranzer in the corner, Max nudged Ray, and they made their way to Kai.

The two of them sat in front of Kai, the hardwood creaked under them. Kai knew they wanted something, but remembered he was trying to be… nicer lately.

“What’s up?” Kai lowered the tiny screwdriver he was working with.

Max smiled at him.

“What is it?” Kai asked again, this time with a bit more attitude.

“You know you can tell us anything right, Kai?” Ray was pressuring him.

“Ray!” Max swatted his shoulder gently.

“Look, I’ve been uh…” Max folded their hands together fiddling with individual fingers. “For lack of better words, gender hopping for a while now. So I guess… What I’m trying to say is… I get what you're laying down.”

Kai blinked a few times, surprised Max picked it up so fast. He wasn’t sure if he was ready… but he knew his friends, he could trust them.

“I uh.” Kai started, then laughed a bit, “wow.” He fiddled with the small screwdriver on the floor, “you just… right on the money, Max.”

Max dropped his hand on Kai’s thigh. Kai wasn’t huge on touching yet, but Max wanted to give him some form of comfort.

“I’ve been thinking for… quite some time.” Kai started, he rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. “About my um… gender identity.”

The room grew quieter. Both Kai, Max, and Ray were aware the rest of the room picked up on the serious vibe and were listening in.

Max went to say something, but Kai continued.

“I know it’s more than what I want to wear, or makeup or nailpolish. Anyone can do that stuff... It’s more than that. That’s why I’ve been thinking so much.”

Max put both hands on Kai’s leg. Kai grinned.

“I think… I might be non-binary—” the room was quiet, “I’m not one-hundred percent sure but—”

Max cut him off, “it’s fine Kai.” Their face practically glowed from how proud Max was of Kai. “You don’t need to give us a list of reasons, we trust you.”

“Thanks.” Kai let a grin slip out.

“Wait, Kai, you’re gay!?” Kenny gasped.

“No...” Kai now worried that it was too soon.

“Kenny! Non-bnary is a gender thing not a sexuality thing!” Max educated his friend as best as possible in the short timeframe.

“Ooohhh , sorry.” Kenny blushed. “I’m not quite… on the gender train yet, but I’m trying.”

Kai gave Kenny a soft expression, “Thanks, Kenny. I appreciate it.”

Tyson turned around, Kai’s heart fell in his chest, “wait… So you’re not a boy, Kai?”

“What are your pronouns!” Max squealed over Tyson’s remark.

“Um.” Kai hadn’t really thought much about it, “like, anything really. He or them? I know you like them Max but I guess…”

“You don’t mind if we call you a boy?”

Kai shrugged, “I don’t feel like… dysphoric about it. Just that you guys know how I feel when you think about me… I think… that’s all I want.”

The room grew quiet for a moment. Max didn’t want to press the situation, but everyone had more questions.

“Do you experience a lot of gender dysphoria?” Max felt the sweat form in their palms, and relieved some of the pressure from Kai’s leg.

“Sometimes.” When Kai admitted it, he felt his shoulders become light. “But I think it really lines up with my trauma. That’s why… I’m still unsure. But I wanted you guys to know.”

“Thanks for telling us.” Ray patted his shoulder.

“I’m glad I did.”

Kai’s words rang through the dojo.

It was Tyson who got up first.

“Anyone want anything to drink? I’m going to go get a soda. Kai, you want anything?”

Kai was unsure what to think, he stared at Tyson, lost for an answer to a basic question.

“It’s not complicated. I’m not asking you to pick a gender or anything, just what to drink.” Tyson’s words seemed almost... angry.

Max ripped their hands away from Kai and spat towards Kai’s rival, “Tyson!”

“Whatever. I’ll get water I guess.” Tyson threw his hands in the air and left through the door outside.

“What is his fucking problem?” Max grimaced.

“He was never this upset when you came out.” Ray side eyed Max.

Ray and Max pushed themselves off the floor ready to go confront him. Kai got up, placing his arm in front of them.

“No, I think I should talk to him.”

Are you sure, Kai?” Ray wore a worried look.

“Yeah. It’s about time we talked.” Kai made his way to the door, opening it and sliding it shut behind him gently.

Outside the sun had just set. The backyard was veiled in twilight. The other side of the wooden deck across the gravel Tyson shut a door behind him, carrying a can and a bottle of water. Kai hopped off the dojo’s floorboards and felt the gravel crunch under his feet. He made his way to Tyson.

Tyson saw him, and sat on the edge. Letting his feet dangle while he looked over the yard as Kai approached him.

“What’s up?” Tyson raised his eyebrows and smiled sarcastically, then went back to a neutral expression.

“Are you okay?” Kai looked him up and down trying to find out what the problem was.

Tyson handed him the bottle of water with a friendly gesture. Kai took it, and unscrewed the cap, he chugged it.

Tyson opened the can, the only noise other than bugs and the slight splashing of fish in the pond.

“You know…” Tyson took a sip, “I like makeup, dresses, and nailpolish as much as the next guy. But I’m not like you guys.”

“That’s okay.” Kai sat beside him a few feet away. He leaned against one of the wooden beams, “we never said you had to be.”

Tyson scoffed slightly, “I get Max, I do. But you’re such a manly guy. Why?”

“It’s hard to explain if you haven’t felt it yourself but… It’s not just about wearing more… feminine things. There’s a mental aspect to it. And besides…”

Kai used his water bottle to gently bash it against Tyson’s leg, “I’m not that manly.”

“I’ve seen you in a suit…” Tyson shook his head while grinning.

Kai took a breath, “why does this upset you so much? You never had a problem when Max announced his gender reveal—”

“A thousand times.” Tyson finished his sentence.

They both laughed.

A few insects jumped off the pond and reflected the setting sun in their fluttering wings.

“Why does this upset you so much?”

“First of all, I’m not upset. You can do anything you need to do, Kai.”

“If you’re not upset, then what are you?”

Tyson gave him his full attention, the eye contact made Kai’s hair stand on end.

Tyson wasn’t answering, so Kai continued, “I’m still the same person I’ve always been. Nothing has changed, but now I can be more comfortable, and true to who I am.”

“I know that, and I’m proud of you.” Tyson shook the can in circles with one hand.

Kai was starting to lose patience now, “so what the hell is up?!”

“Nothing.” Tyson avoided the question while staring into the distance.

“There’s got to be something if you’re acting like this—so what the hell?”

“It’s fine, Kai. Let’s just forget about it—”

“No.”

Kai was stern, making sure to stay true to his emotional truth.

“Excuse me?” Tyson layed down the can with a loud thud.

Kai threw the water bottle beside him, still holding on to it, his whole body stood still in a white anger.

“You’ve been picking on everything I’ve been doing lately, pointing out every change, in my personality or appearance. You’ve been hypersensitive to me changing, now you have to tell me why!”

Kai’s intense words made Tyson raise his voice louder.

“Because! It’s so annoying! I was so confident in my sexuality but now—if you’re not a boy then I guess that doesn’t make me fully gay like I thought and now I have more soul searching to do! And that pisses me off!”

They challenged each other for a moment, until… Tyson noticed what he said, he could feel his face going red, and he drank out of the can while turning away trying to hide his expression.

Kai wasn’t sure if he heard him right, but what else could he have meant?

“Tyson…”

“Shut up.”

Kai let go of the bottle, it fell and rolled away from them, ignoring it he pulled himself closer to Tyson.

Tyson leaned away, his body felt like it was on fire out of embarrassment, he just wanted to turn and run.

“You don’t have to put yourself in a box. Just live. Figure it out as you go. That’s what I’m doing.”

Kai’s voice was—as always, honey to Tyson’s ears. Tyson shivered, unsure what to do or say.

“It’s alright, Tyson.” Kai wore no expression, but Tyson knew everything he wanted to express.

Tyson stared down at his blue and red nails, smiling at the colour choice.

“I’m proud of you for telling us about your gender Kai… and I’ll support you anyway I can.”

“Thanks, Tyson. That means everything to me.”