#saying you don’t care that women are going to die though like. Jesus fucking christ

[dykesynthezoid]

Obviously the majority of trans men sound totally normal in how they discuss cis women perpetuating transphobia and being transphobic to them and how that affects how they relate to cis women and all of that is really important for us to be discussing as a community etc

But then there’s like. A minority that will straight up say things like “I don’t give a shit about cis women dying from lack of access to safe abortion since we trans men have it worse anyway” and it’s like hey uh what the fuck. What the fuck

[bobtheacorn]

Film RED bullet review below the cut bc of spoilers but also it’s living in my mind rent-free and i gotta holler for a min (though I should preface this with saying i haven’t read wano yet bc I keep procrastinating but If I Don’t See EVERY one piece film in Theaters I WILL Die! Waited 32 years of my life for this and I’ll get my spoilers via the big screen if i have to!)

THAT BEING SAID lmao

the only reason i went to see this film is bc of JINBE it was BABY’S FIRST FILM and he had 8 entire minutes of screentime rip

the COWARDS didn’t dub the songs for some reason???? but Uta’s english VA AmaLee did her own version of Genesis and it’s a FUCKIN BANGER give it a big big listen she deserved to drop the entire album on the big screen!!!!!!!!!!

in spite of that, me and my friend are huge Jpop nerds so this movie felt tailor made for us and we were alone in the theater thank God so we got to be absolute assholes and jam 100/10 

Uta’s EXCELLENT Cult Vibes my girl swung so far to the left she curved right back around A for effort

Every song being a little more deranged than the last as her mental health plummeted bc of sleep deprivation / stress MWA we love to see it we love a girl saying Fuck the Government AND the Pirates and streaming her absolute break down live on global television and taking EVERYBODY DOWN WITH HER only bc it is SO FAR REMOVED from Oda’s typical villain trope of Bitter Old Man who wants to destroy the world bc he is Sad Z i am looking you in the face

the Things I Care About and the Things This Film Wanted Me to Care About Divergence was... Incredible! Uta being Shank’s daughter got crickets from me bc ask me why i should care but it was immediately followed by “Strawhat is The 5th Emperor” which received uproarious applause and that was a spoiler for me lmao

Oda/etc Stop Cramming 48 Random and Unnecessary Characters into every Film Just Because They’re High On The Popularity Poll Challenge

We have a full entire cast of STRAWHATS. There are TEN STRAW HAT PIRATES. Would have loved to see a little bit of oh i don’t know Interaction and Shenanigans that lasted longer than a few seconds, i mean jesus christ I remember the older movies always having lots of fun banter and moments with the strawhats and that’s what made them fun to watch, i remember when there were Character Driven plots give me some of that back I come here for the StrawHat Pirates!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Did i enjoy Trafalguy turning up to babysit his queer platonic BF? Yes!

Did this movie in particular benefit from him being there? NO.

Fleeting Lullaby (song/scene) is Unhinged, Uta i love u

Luffy who recognizes No One Ever spotting that girl he saw like twice when he was 7 from 40 yards away and being like Hey Stop The Show I Think Know Her sklfsjfasd;lk KING

He said he was gonna go take a nap and Uta had a meltdown abt it, say you have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria without saying it

ALSO Uta sitting in the rain stroking Luffy’s precious sleeping face and crying got me cryin in the club fr

That very quick flashback of shanks thinking abt Roger and Rayleigh also punched me in the chest but I went into the film not caring abt shanks and his daughter and I left the film still not caring i’m sorry lmao

Usopp’s observation haki connecting him to his dad and them both working to coordinate their respective crews was GODTIER OH WE LOVE TO SEE IT. USOPP THANK U FOR SHINING SO BRIGHTLY

the very quiet scene where Uta gives Luffy his hat back and she’s trying to be silly with him but you Don’t See His Face At All that entire scene so you KNOW he’s upset and something is wrong made me fucking feral I love Luffy’s growth I love his character development I LOVE HIM SFM

Coby was the REAL MVP of the Film

Jinbe deserved more screentime

Rob Lucci struggling to trouble-shoot the Elders TV sent me right into the stratosphere HOW fucking embarrassing sdfljslfksl

Uta fuckin died????????????/ Unconfirmed but implied

Oda Stop Martyring Women Challenge

this movie is GREAT but it’s not Film Gold

[sochilll]

October 25 - Sweater

Day 24 Day 26 All Days (Prompt list)

Jared was straight. Jared was soooooooo straight. Jared loved women. He’d never even seen a man before.

The manifestations weren’t working. He was still gay. And Evan was wearing a sweater that was just a little too big on him and his collar bones were exposed and he kept having to push the sleeves up and Jesus Christ Jared was going to go insane.

“Why do you even have that?” Jared said, with way too much accusation in his voice.

“Huh?” Evan frowned.

“The sweater. It’s like eight sizes too big on you.”

“Oh.” Evan looked down. “It’s warm. And comfy.” He eyed Jared. “Why do you care?”

Jared shrugged and stared at his phone. “It’s just really baggy.”

“You wear baggy sweaters all the time.” Evan pointed out, pushing his sleeves up.

“Yeah well.” Jared said.

They fell into silence again. Evan was on his phone. He leaned his cheek on his hand which had disappeared inside his sweater sleeve.

Cute was not a word Jared used very often. But there was really no other word he could use to describe Evan currently. He was cute. Jared wanted to die.

“Why are you glaring at me?” Evan asked.

Jared blinked. He hadn’t realized he had been staring at all. “Sorry. Zoning out.”

“You looked very angry.”

“Maybe I am.” Jared grumbled.

“Mhm.” Evan leaned back on his hands. “You seem like you’re having… a not good day. I can go if you want.”

Now that was an offer. Freedom from this unique torture of looking at a cute boy.

“You don’t have to.” Jared heard himself saying.

“Okay.” Evan tilted his head. A few of his curls flopped over. “Are you like… okay though?”

No. Very much not. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

Absolutely not. “Yes.”

“Okay you just seem-“

“It’s you and that stupid fucking sweater!” Jared blurted.

Evan frowned. “It’s… what?” He was utterly confused. Fair. “Why is my sweater making you that angry?”

“I’m not angry. I’m just-it’s just-“ No. No. No. No. He was not going to say it. “It’s just that-you just look cute in it!”

Fuck.

Evan stared at him.

Jared wished he’d taken Evan up on his offer to leave.

“Did you just call me cute?”

“No.” Jared lied. If Evan was going to ask stupid questions, Jared was going to tell stupid lies.

“I’m pretty sure you did.”

Jared was staring at his phone but he could feel Evan’s eyes on him. “I think you misheard me.”

“You don’t have to get all weird about it.” Evan said, smile clear in his voice. “It’s not a big deal. I know you’re gay. So it’s like normal-like I get it. If sometimes you think I look good.”

Evan was being surprisingly calm about this. Actually, like, concerningly calm. Jared looked up. Ah, there it was. Evan was furiously picking at his hands under the table.

Jared stretched his leg out under the coffee table and kicked Evan’s his foot. “You don’t be weird about it.”

“I’m not.” Evan mumbled, still picking.

Jared slouched against the couch. “I’m not gonna like… do anything.”

“What?”

“I know you’re straight. I’m not trying to like-like I’m not gonna-“

“It’s not that.” Evan said quickly. “That’s not-I wouldn’t ever think-I wasn’t worried about that.” The picking returned. “I just… no one’s ever called me cute straight to my face before.” He smiled a little. “Or yelled it at me.”

“Oh.”

“It’s stressful. Especially when it’s someone,” The rest of Evan’s sentence was mumbled too bad to comprehend.

“Someone what?”

Evan let out a breath. “When it’s someone I also think… is cute.”

Jared tried to respond to that but he couldn’t think of a single god damn thing to say. He started about ten sentences in his head before ending up with, “You’re straight though.”

Evan looked up, smiling a tiny bit. “I’m not.”

“What?” Jared slapped his hand on the table. “Since-for how long?”

Evan snorted. “Since for about a year.” He shrugged. “That’s how long I’ve known anyway.”

“So you’re…”

“Bi. I think.”

“So you’re bi and you think I’m cute. And I’m gay and I think you’re cute.”

Evan nodded. “Guess so.”

“Okay. So why are we not making out?”

Evan flushed violently. “Because you don’t like me as a person the way I like you as a person.”

“That’s not-wait what?” Jared frowned. “I’m sorry did you just admit you like me? And then say the only reason we’re not dating is because you think I don’t like you?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“You’re so stupid holy shit.” Jared laughed. “Bring your stupid sweater over here.”

“What? Why?”

“Oh my god.” Jared crawled around the table. “You’re the only person who can completely derail my brain just by wearing a stupid god damn sweater.” He said and then he kissed Evan.

Evan was smiling when Jared finally released him. His face was red and he hid it with his sweater paws.

Jared tugged his hands down. “Cute.” He said and the pulled Evan in again.

[pixieungerstories]

Quarantine - 2

There was no sign the house had any other occupants for days.  I hadn’t been able to drag the mattress out of the room where he had put it.  It was heavy and I couldn’t compress it enough to get it through the door.

I went back to working from home.  The conference calls helped me feel sane.  After a while it was easy to pretend the whole thing was some fever dream.  I was pretending, though.  I still hadn’t tried to open the closet.  Grocery delivery was set on a rotation so that once a week they arrived at the gate.  My neighbours had theirs brought right up to the house.  Mine were always left at the gate of the picket fence that surrounded the front yard.

I used the hedge trimmers to shape the lilac bushes that the neighbours on each side had planted to obscure their view of my house.  I weeded and mowed the lawn wishing for grass seed before just giving up and calling it a meadow.  Some of the flowers were even pretty.  I chuckled with my friends about how much drywall I was going to need when this was over.  We laughed about how it was lucky I was alone instead of having a roommate watching me through the holes in the walls.

Well, they laughed.  I sort of more chuckled nervously.

I kept an eye on my laptop battery and there weren’t any unexplained power outages.  Everything seemed normal.

Until I was cleaning out the basement and found the wine room.  I don’t know wine, but there was a lot of it and the newest bottle that I could find was pre world war two.

I wasn’t expecting it to still be good.  It was.  It felt ridiculous drinking a hundred year old bottle of red wine with a frozen dinner. I did it anyway.

“Are you still here?” I demanded as I was getting ready for bed.

There was no answer.

I found the box that had my vibrator in it and fell asleep in a sweaty puddle.

I woke up a little hung over and found my vibe squeaky clean on the bathroom sink when I went to brush my teeth.  My stomach dropped.

“Were you watching me?” I hissed.  I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting, but I didn’t get one.

Once again, I tried to move the mattress to another room.  Once again, I failed.  I spent the night wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor in the other bedroom, with my laptop plugged in and netflix running to keep me company.

I screamed and stood up when he said from the doorway, “I get lonely too.”

“Jesus Christ!”

He chuckled, “Not even close.”  There was a moment of silence as I strained my eyes to see something, anything, in the dark.  “I can’t leave either,” he whispered.  I stood there shaking in the light from my laptop screen. “Sleep in the bed.  I will not bother you.”

I didn’t move.  He had just sounded sad when he said it.  

“Why can’t I ever see you?”  I asked.

“I live in the shadows, you can only see me in darkness.”

I blinked at that.  “But you are always here.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject.  “What do you want from me?”

“When you first arrived, you slept in the garden.  If you had started by sleeping in the house, I would have run you off.  But you were fixing things, so I let you stay.  I got used to you being around.  Then you got sick and it would have been so easy to just let you die.  I would have gone back to being on my own.  I no longer want to be on my own but I hadn’t considered the weight of you being unable to leave.  I do not like the idea of you being scared of me and trapped here.”

“But I am,” I mumbled.

“Yes.  So take care of yourself.  Sleep in the bed.  Care for the house.  I will stay out of your way.”

I licked my lips.  I didn’t want to ask but I had to know.  “What were you doing with my vibrator?”

There was no answer.  I waited for what felt like an eternity before I continued.  “Look, it isn’t a good idea to share sex toys, so depending on where it’s been, I might need to throw it out.  I can’t exactly get a new one just now.  Please just tell me.”

It was the barest whisper, “I wanted to taste you.”

I froze feeling like a deer in the headlights, completely unsure how to respond to that.

“I have not touched you since you asked me not to,” he argued.  

Except for when I almost fell, I thought.  You caught me then.  And my laptop.  I wouldn’t have been able to get a new one of those either.  I wondered if soap and water would do it or if I was going to end up with some shadow monster disease.  How do you even ask that?

“Ok,” I mumbled.  I stood there in the dark and silence.  The house was silent.  I realized I hadn’t heard rattles or banging or hissing since I learned he was here.  “Nyctophobia,” I blurted out.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

I shifted awkwardly.  “Can I call you Nick?”

The silence continued.  Then, “Why?”

“Nameless things are more scary.  It isn’t as bad having a roommate named Nick.”

He never did answer.  Eventually, I sat back down on the floor and wrapped the blanket more tightly around myself.  I wasn’t brave enough to walk through a pitch dark house, past a staircase, to get to the room where there was a monster in the closet.  

----

There was coffee waiting for me when I got up, and the smell of cinnamon buns baking in the oven.   The oven timer said there was 10 minutes left.  I peeked inside to find the tiniest pan of monkey bread baking.  I recognized the recipe and pulled out the cookbook it came from.  Sure enough, in Nick’s careful handwriting was notations about scaling the recipe down to one sixth of how it had been published.

He had used pencil.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

I didn’t get a response, but he did the dishes while I had my bath that morning.

When my groceries were delivered, popcorn had been added to my order.

I didn’t see him.  Well, I mean, I never see him, but the only signs of him were things being done and left obviously done while I was bathing or getting dressed.  Aside from how nice it was to not do the dishes I appreciated the signs that he was not watching me.

It came as a surprise when I went to put the popcorn in the microwave and the power went out.  

“Nick?  What are you doing?”

“This isn’t me,” he hissed.

I was lifted and carried squirming through the dark before being pushed into a space and having the door locked behind me.  I panicked as I thought I might be in his closet before I realized I was in the wine cellar.  Flashes of Edgar Allen Poe stories ran through my mind.

I have no idea how long I was in there, in the dark with my heart pounding as I tried to get the door to open.  Eventually, it did.

“All better now,” he assured me, breathing down the back of my neck.

There were a lot of cop cars outside on the street.

“What happened?” I asked.  There wasn’t any answer.

A uniformed officer rang my bell, then politely stepped back from my door the requisite six feet.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night, Ma’am?” he asked after identifying himself.

Yeah, all the time, I thought.  There was still no way to say that and sound sane.  I went with a modified version of the truth.  “The power went out around 10pm and I ended up stuck in the basement since I couldn’t see the stairs.”

He frowned at me.  “Have you noticed anything missing?  Any signs of a break in?”

“No?  Should I have?”

He appeared to consider this, then stepped further back to look at the state of my house.  “There were break-ins all down this street last night.  This place might not have been a target.”

“Is everyone OK?” I asked.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” replied walking towards me again.  “I can not disclose anything further, ma’am.”

I swallowed, “That sounds like a no.”

“Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?”

I considered this, “Do you generally advise that women living alone let strange men into their houses?  If you are coming to search, I want my lawyer here as a witness.”

He was already peering in around me.  The house isn’t that big and the walls were all gone.  He could see the whole main floor whether he came in or not.

“Doing some renovations I see.”

No shit Sherlock.  “My building permit is posted in my window.  I haven’t been able to get trades people out in months but-”

“I'm sure everything is in order with that.  Good day.”   Then he left.  Standing on the porch I could hear him telling the other officers what a shit hole my house was.  He thought it should be condemned.

I mean, he was right, still you never like to hear that.  And it didn’t need to be condemned.  I had the structural engineer’s report to prove it.

I went to work while keeping an eye on the news sites.

It wasn’t break ins.  It was looters.  The house next to me and the four next to it, all the way to the corner, had been hit.  The owners had been found tied up at best and dead at worst with a variety of options in between.

It has escalated all the way down the street.

Then stopped before my house.

“Nick?  What did you do?”

He wasn’t talking to me yet.

----

I sat on my bed and waited for the sun to go down.  My laptop was in the kitchen.  My phone was next to me but set to do not disturb.   I waited, straining my ears for any noise.

“Are you there?”

Nothing was said but I was sure I could feel him watching me.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“No one comes into my house,” he snarled.

I swallowed and fought down my fear.  “I did.”

“You are different.  You are helping.”

I considered that.  He had walls before I got here, now he didn’t.

“Am I safe from you?”

“Yes.”  It would have been more comforting if he hadn’t growled it.

That was the point where I started to cry.  I had made it through everything life had thrown at me without turning into a weepy woman, but that did it.  I’m going to blame it on a night of panicking in the wine cellar combined with news reports detailing what had happened to my neighbours.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

I sniffled.  “Fuck.  Why don’t I have kleenex?”

A roll of toilet paper was pressed into my hands.  I ripped off a length and blew my nose in a way that women in the movies never do, then I jumped as he stroked my cheek with a cool finger, catching my tears.  His hand was gone an instant later.

“What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly.  I don’t think he was talking about the ongoing police presence on the street. 

“What did you do?” I sniffled.

“I defended my home.  That includes you now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that.  I wasn’t sure that I couldn’t catch glimpses of him as the lights on the street kept flashing.  Red, blue, huge black shadow.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I whispered.

The bed dipped but when I reached my arm out in that direction all I could find was a long fingered hand to hold mine.  “You won’t be.”

I felt him tug at the blankets underneath me and I slid over so he could turn them back.  Even in the dark I could find my sleep shirt under my pillow.  I stood up next to the bed, stripped and pulled it over my head.  Under the covers looking at the ceiling.  Red, blue, shadow, red, blue shadow.

“Are you .. human shaped?”

“I can be.”

I snorted, “What kind of answer is that?” 

“An honest one.”

I rolled on to my side so that my back was to him, or at least to where I thought he was.

“I can go.”

“Can you stay?”

The weight on the bed changed.  “Don’t try to look at me, you will only give yourself nightmares.”

“You said you’ve read Blue Beard?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read Cupid and Psyche?”

He just snickered.

“I’ll take that as a yes.  Does any of that apply here?”

“Are you going to try to burn me with an oil lamp?” he teased.

“Are you going to get me pregnant then cast me out into the wilds?”  I countered.

He hissed at that, “Never.”

“Never get me pregnant or -”

“I’m not human.  We can’t procreate.  I can’t make you sick.  You can’t make me sick.  We can drive each other insane and you will be able to escape someday.  I can not leave.”

“Why not?”

“You need to rest.  Don’t ask questions with scary answers.”

“How am I supposed to know they are scary?”

“Because you are asking a monster.  Now, go to sleep.”

That was the most ridiculous thing but I wasn’t up to arguing about it.  Not while there was still an active crime scene next door.

I fell asleep to the feeling of him stroking my back.

----

The only furniture in the bed room was the bed and a few boxes of random stuff I had moved in.  I woke to find one of them had been used as a table and was holding breakfast for me.  Or at least a travel mug of coffee and a plate of toast.  I sat in bed, drank my coffee, ate my toast and read the thirty seven emails from everyone I knew asking what the fuck happened next door.

I ended up posting a blanket statement on facebook that I was fine.  I was still in my house.  I had no idea what had happened other than what I had seen on the news.  Then I posted a picture of the three squad cars I could still see out my bedroom window.  

My boss emailed me to ask when he could expect the report I had been assigned, so that took up the rest of my day.  It was getting dark when I realized I hadn’t eaten all day.  Another freezer meal, some salad and I was raiding the wine cellar again, god damn it!

As I was pouring wine into a coffee mug, he asked me, “Are you drinking alone?”

I got up, took another mug out of the cupboard, poured a second drink and turned off the kitchen light.  “Nope.  I’m not alone.  You’re here.”

He didn’t answer, as I ate my dinner by the light of the street lights outside.  The porch light was outside the kitchen window, so I turned it on to wash the dishes then turned it off to go upstairs.  It would have been better if I hadn’t stubbed my toe on the bottom step.  I swore.  Nick picked me up and carried me up the stairs.

“I didn’t have that much to drink!” I protested.

“No, but you can’t see in the dark.”  He tucked me safely into bed.

“Did you change the sheets?”  I asked.  He didn’t answer.  “You did, didn’t you?”

My laptop opened and his body blocked the screen for a few moments.  Then Brooklyn 99 came on and it was set next to me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We need a distraction.  Call Penny.”

“We need a distraction?  We?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated.  “Do you need me to move out and camp in the backyard for a few days?”

His reply was a nonverbal roar that rattled the windows and set off a car alarm outside.  

There was a commotion then the cops were knocking on my door.  I sighed and turned on the lights.  I decided to be proactive this time.  I flung open the door and demanded “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The cops on my porch blinked.  

“I’m trying to sleep!  Can you keep the noise down?  Please?  I know whatever you are doing is important but can you just do it a little quieter?”

“That wasn’t us!” the youngest protested.

“Then can you find out who it was and make them stop?”

To my delight, they left.

I closed the door, smiled to myself and bounced off a wall of darkness that caught me before I rebounded against the door.

“I do not want you sleeping outside!” he growled in my ear.

There were one set of arms around my shoulders and another holding my hips and back.  I tried to think of a ‘what big arms you have Mr Wolf’ quip but it died on my lips and the touch was gone in an instant.

“Nick?  Can you help me not trip on things on my way to the stairs?”

Hands on my hips, pushing me gently forward and steering me around boxes. Another hand guiding mine to the banister.  Then nothing.  I carefully inched my way upstairs.  I did that awkward thing at the top where you think there is still one more step but there isn’t so your leg falls through nothing and you stumble.  To my right was the bedroom, still lit by the flickering screen of my computer.

I climbed into bed and closed it.

Then I opened it, stared at the browser for a moment, then closed it again.

“What’s wrong?”

I considered this.  I really had no secrets from him anymore.  “I’m anxious and keyed up.  I need … some ‘alone time’ but it’s weird if you are watching.”

“Would it be better if I was helping?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.  “I don’t know what you are working with.  But I feel lonely.”

Gentle fingers took my hand and raised it.  The lips that kissed and the tongue that laved were not human.  I turned my hand to stroke his face but he leaned away.

That stung.  I let my hand fall to the bed.  “It isn’t fair that you get to touch me but I can’t touch you.”

He didn’t say anything to that.  A car drove past and the headlights lit the room for an instant.  Long enough for me to see four glittering eyes watching me, two forward facing and two further to the sides.  Not human, I reminded myself.  In the darkness, a hand cupped my face, thick lips caught mine and as I kissed him a tentacle like tongue licked at my lips before darting briefly down my throat.

“I can do better than that toy,” he promised, “but you can not see me.”

I nodded.  Four hands stroking me over my clothes.  A mouth kissing and licking at my neck. I was expecting him to peel me out of my clothes, instead his touch was so feathery gentle.  Hands cupped my face as he nuzzled my hair.  I strained my eyes trying to see him, but I could catch only the faintest outline.  Any time I reached out for him he pulled away.  Finally, he got frustrated with that and pinned my hands over my head.

I panicked and pulled my hands away and just like that he was gone.

“Nick?”

I don’t know why I was expecting an answer.  I groaned and pressed both palms to my face covering my eyes.  I jumped when he caressed my calf, but I didn’t move my hands.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“Damned if I know,” I admitted.  “It’s been … I don’t even know anymore… how long have I been stuck in this house?  Weeks?  Months?  None of this seems real anymore.  Sometimes I don’t know if I’m real anymore either.  I just need …  something.”

“Someone,” he whispered.

“Yeah.  Someone to make me feel like I’m real.  Just to make me feel.”

“Humans need other humans to be human,” he muttered. “You should have just called your friend.”

My eyes prickled again and tears splashed against my hands.  “How long have you been here?”

“There was an accident shortly after the house was built.  I came because of that.”

That raised a lot of questions, but my immediate one was, “How long have you been here alone?”

“On and off since then.  Most people don’t last much more than a month or two.  Normally, construction crews are the advance party before they move in.  It’s easy enough to get rid of the new owners.  You were just too stupid to leave.”

I snorted, “Were you really trying to make me go?  Because living here was creepy but not anywhere close to the scariest place I’ve ever lived.”

“My heart wasn’t in it.  I need you to finish fixing the place first.  Sooner or later someone would have built one of those ridiculous houses on the lot.”  He started to massage my calf as he spoke.

“The house is more than a hundred years old.  That’s a long time to be alone,” I pointed out.

“Enough time to get good at it,” he countered.

I moved my hands then and sat up to look at him.  I thought I could see a pool of shifting darkness.  “What are you?  Are you a ghost?  Did someone die here and -”

“Many people have died here. I am not one of them.”

I thought about that for a moment.  “Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I some dead woman who is all alone here making excuses for why I can’t leave?”

He laughed at me then, not a jolly laugh, an odd howling laugh.  “How did you come up with that ridiculous idea?”

It stung a little, “It’s a popular plot point in a number of movies.  And I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer the question.”

He stopped laughing when he realized I was serious and said flatly, “You aren’t dead.”

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | track nine

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Eden arrived in New York in the biggest coat she could find in a store in Los Angeles, which came equipped with a furry hood and enough stuffing in it to make her resemble the michelin man when she climbed into the car. 

She leaned back against the headrest of the seat with a sigh, an iced coffee in each hand. Her eyes closed for a minute, like she was trying to find her inner peace, and then she sat up and passed a cup to Indy in the driver’s seat.

“Vanilla, oatmilk right?”

“Always,” Indy laughed, taking a sip before putting it in the cupholder. “So uh, I love you and all, but are you finally gonna tell me why you changed your flight and made it so much earlier?”

“Drive to your place, and I’ll explain.”

Eden waited until she got out of the majority of the traffic.

“So, I had my original ticket and I was just gonna rent a car and show up, you know this, we planned it. But then I had the brilliant idea to come early and kidnap you,” she grinned, sipping her coffee.

“You’re kidnapping me?”

“Kinda. Well, reverse kidnapping I guess cause I’m forcing you to host me. You told the boys you were Christmas shopping like I said right? So you’re clear for a few hours?”

“Yeah.”

“Well good, cause we’re having a girls moment, because you need me.”

“I need you?” Indy laughed. She could never imagine possessing the confidence that Eden manifested every day, but she hoped one day she could have a fraction of it. 

“Yeah, because you’re surrounded by Dolan twins, not Dolan twins girlfriends. And I’m sure neither of them have shut the fuck up about everything going on, right?”

Indy sighed, which Eden took as a yes. The two had been talking more and more, but especially since the absolute blow up on social media. Eden had been the first one to text her that day with a simple message.

Been there, I know how much it sucks but it’ll pass. Call me later when you’re up for it

Indy hadn’t called. She didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want Eden to think she was weak. Instead she’d gone onto Eden’s instagram, tried to see how she handled things, and from the first few scrolls on her feed it was blatantly obvious that she didn’t give a shit. Just a few weeks prior she’d posted a picture of her and Ethan in the mirror dressed up for a date, his hand fully grabbing her ass with the caption miss you bby. Indy scrolled the comments, blood boiling at some of the shit people said to her. She wondered if she’d ever get to the point where she could even stand to reopen her own instagram, much less post with reckless abandon. 

“We love men who think they know what it’s like to be a woman,” she teased, shaking her head as they continued down the road. “They’ve got such a protection complex, both of them, but Gray especially. Don’t get me wrong, I love it most of the time. Actually, it’s kinda hot. But holy shit does it get annoying when they underestimate you.”

Indy had experienced it first hand in the last week, and she couldn’t disagree. It was like she was on lockdown. Gone were the days of Grayson meeting her in the lobby of the building, or waiting for her outside of Jets. When he came to her apartment he was in sunglasses and a beanie, sometimes even a scarf pulled up over his mouth in an attempt to hide from any cameras he couldn’t see. He relaxed marginally when he got inside, but the only time he really seemed to catch his breath was when the sun set and they were tangled in each other’s arms, or when they were off the interstate on the back roads to Jersey. His shoulders would sink a bit, and his grip on her hand would relax when they took the exit. Something about the trees, still coated in snow, made him feel safer, made him feel like he could protect her somehow. 

It felt like a breath of fresh air to walk into her lobby with someone by her side. There were no cameras, but Eden wouldn’t have cared even if there was. She held her hand and walked in as if she’d done it a thousand times, though she had to wait for Indy to hit the right elevator button. 

When they got inside the apartment, Eden plopped herself down on the couch with a smile and patted the cushion beside her. 

“Alright, spill. Give me all the details, how’s it been going?”

Indy started to talk, and then she couldn’t stop. It spilled out of her like water, every single thing that had happened since her graduation date. Eden listened intently to each detail, from the way they’d changed their walking path to the hospital to the fact that he was looking into a new paint job for the truck to make it less recognizable. 

“And he’s just so paranoid, and I mean I guess I am too in a way, cause I like my privacy too. But it’s like he thinks I’ll die if a picture of me gets out or something, like damn, I’m a little sensitive sometimes but I’m not that fucking fragile.”

“You should have seen Ethan when the pregnancy rumors started for me. One big lunch at Monty’s later and all of a sudden I’m 3 months pregnant and I don’t know which twin’s it is,” she rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee through her straw with a smile.

“No fucking way.”

“I thought he was going to actually murder the dude from Hollywood Fix for that one. We burned through two Relax candles that week. Wild.”

“Jesus christ.”

“But hey, you already got the engagement rumor out of the way, so pregnancy is probably next. To be safe though, never even look in the window of a wedding dress store, and definitely don’t go to the baby section anywhere.”

Eden said it all so casually, as if making sure to avert your eyes from a wedding dress in a window was a totally normal thing to do. Indiana’s breathing picked up at her words, afraid that somehow she’d accidentally start a rumor about herself that would come back to bite Grayson.

“Isn’t that exhausting though? Being worried about that shit all the time?”

“You get used to it, and you adapt. Like the topaz ring for Lisa. That’s from Ethan and Grayson together, but they decided to send Gray in because if Ethan got spotted in a ring shop there would be an article about our secret wedding on DailyMail next week. Of course, that plan didn’t work out for Gray so well either, as we now know. Why the fuck he didn’t think about that is beyond me, but whatever,” she laughed. 

“No one was supposed to know about me,” Indy said, and her words didn’t resonate until they hung in the air. Was that what it was? The sudden shift in him being so damn worried about someone possibly seeing them together? It made her palms sweaty and she rubbed them on her pants before she spoke again.

“When did Ethan get over it?”

Eden scoffed. “He’s not over it. Still makes him want to lose his mind when someone says some shit about me. He broke a knuckle last year punching a wall cause a news outlet got pictures of me in a bikini while we were in Hawaii and said I’d gained weight.”

“That’s… absolutely fucked Eden, I’m fucking sorry.”

“I put it on my instagram story and laughed it off.” She shrugged her shoulders, as most women do when they have to accept unsolicited opinions from strangers. But something about the confidence she exuded when she said it made Indy believe that, somehow, she really had just brushed it off for the most part. 

“Is it hard to do that? Laugh it off?”

“Sometimes.” She sat up, getting more serious as she looked at Indiana. “But here’s the thing babes. Someone is sitting in an office somewhere, probably in their little house, with a bunch of clutter on their desk writing shitty articles about me. Meanwhile, I’m living in a nice ass house in LA with my hot ass boyfriend who bought me that bikini and took me to Hawaii. So who's actually winning?

“People talk shit about you when they wish they were you, that’s just how the world works. It’s shit, but once you accept that it changes your perspective on a lot of things. I mean honestly Indy, who gives a fuck what dolantea with 7 a’s the end has to say on instagram when you have Grayson fucking Dolan in your bed every night?” She raised her eyebrows, happy to see the smile she got out of Indy. “And if you ever tell him I said that I’ll put Nair in your shampoo.”

“My lips are sealed,” Indy teased, suddenly filled with a boost of confidence. “You have a very interesting perspective on the world Eden, I like it.”

“Coming from the college grad, I take that as a major compliment.”

“Believe me, there’s plenty of dumb people with college degrees. Doesn’t mean much at the end of the day.”

“But it gets you into a career that means something,” she mused. “I mean, being a doctor is a big deal, you’ll help a lot of people.”

Indy chewed on her lip. Every intrusive thought she’d had in the last few days that didn’t revolve around Twitter had to do with her imagining herself as a doctor, but it always faded into something else. It was her at a patient’s bedside, her helping them get to their feet, her sending them home with their family. Things that nurses did, not doctors. 

“Yeah. I hope so,” was all she could say. 

“That wasn’t very Indy of you.”

She quirked an eyebrow at Eden and waited for an explanation.

“You always keep a convo going, and you let that one drop, which means you probably don’t want to talk about it. But I’ll listen if you want to get it off your chest.”

“I don’t know… it’s just. The more I think about it, the more I realize that maybe being a doctor isn’t exactly what I thought it would be.”

“Oh. Well, then don’t be a doctor.”

It was Indy’s turn to scoff. “It’s not that simple Eden.”

“Isn’t it though?”

Indiana couldn’t come up with an answer. So instead, after the silence became too much, she deflected, making Eden walk her through the plans for the day.

A few hours later, once they’d gotten ready, they headed out to Jersey for the early birthday surprise, which Lisa was in on. She had ordered a massive vegan cake from one of the bakeries in New York that Indy picked up on the way, making Eden hold it for the majority of the ride. But when they got to the start of the driveway, she pulled over and had her counterpart climb into the trunk of the SUV, sticking a shiny blue gift bow on top of her head while she held one hand on the cake box to keep it steady.

Grayson appeared on the porch at the sound of the gravel crunching, cocking his head to the side when he noticed that Indy was backing in. He jogged up to the window when she put it in park, waiting for her to roll it down so he could lean in to kiss her. She hummed and smiled at him.

“Happy Birthday.”

“It’d be happier if you were out here,” he mused, leaning back to pull on the door handle, frowning when he realized it was still locked. 

“Go get Ethan for me, tell him I need help getting the cake out of the trunk.”

Grayson turned to do as she asked before he did a double-take at the very cake shaped box in the passenger seat.

“But…”

Indy repeated her sentence with a tight smile, but he still just frowned.

“Is that not the cake? Mom let it slip that she ordered one, I can just get it, cause Ethan is grumpy.”

“BITCH JUST GO GET HIM.”

Eden’s yell was so loud that Grayson jumped, putting a protective hand on Indy’s shoulder, though he didn’t know what he was protecting her from until he peeked into the car.

“Oh thank god,” he laughed at the sight of her, half hidden by the back row of seats. “He’s been moping for like three days!”

“Oh believe me, I know. Now go get him, I’m getting a fucking leg cramp back here.” 

Gray grinned, already feeling his brother’s happiness somehow as he bounded into the house, yelling incessantly until Ethan finally came trudging down the stairs, muttering profanities as he stepped out into the New Jersey cold.

“Bro, be nice, Indy worked really hard to make this birthday nice for both of us, even if Eden couldn’t be here. Just help me carry the cake,” Grayson said, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

Ethan took a deep breath and nodded.

“Dee, open the trunk babe!” Gray called, having to turn away to hide his grin. But he looked back quickly, not wanting to miss his brother’s face when the door lifted and revealed his girlfriend, sitting adorably with a bow on her head. 

Ethan just stared for a moment, mouth hanging open so wide that it made Indy laugh as she watched in the rear view mirror.

“You little shit!” He finally said, closing the distance and pulling her into his arms and out of the car, spinning her around for a moment before peppering kisses all over her face. It was like he couldn’t let go. Every time he went to pull back he caught sight of her face again and pulled her back against him until they were both shivering out in the cold, wind whipping at their exposed hands and ankles.

Grayson helped Indy out of the car, warming her lips with a welcoming kiss before they moved to unpack the car, letting the lovebirds have their moment. Lisa greeted her as soon as she made it in the door and sat the gifts down, her hair smelling like she’d just put on hairspray. Eden and Ethan trailed in moments later hand in hand, with Ethan yelling about how Li had been in on it the whole time.

In terms of birthdays, it was a chilled out evening. The twins birthday used to be a huge event, full of laughter and excitement. Now, there was a blanket over the scene, a silent understanding that one person was missing from the table - one who should have been a year older just a few days prior. But they made the most of their time together, eating the cake first gathered around the table before moving into the living room and starting on presents. 

Grayson kept a hand on Indy’s knee unless he was unwrapping, looking over at her with a warm smile any time that he could. Lisa’s gifts were first - new sweaters, Ethan’s red and Grayson’s green, a bottle of shampoo each, specific to their hair texture. They gave each other such an incredulous look that Eden and Indy couldn’t help but laugh, only growing louder when Lisa leaned over to smack their heads lightly. They got individual gifts too - a new helmet for Ethan for his longboarding trips and a nice drill that Grayson had asked for. They both stood up to kiss her cheek in thanks before they settled back down to open gifts.

Indy was let in on the tradition that Ethan always opened first because he was older, and she was more than happy to lean on Grayson and watch his brother open his gifts. He started with Eden’s, eyebrows shooting up when he pulled out an odd arrangement of things. A bottle of sparkling cider, sunscreen and a pair of swim trunks that were adorned with a pattern made of a picture of Gizmo. He checked the bag for anything else before looking back at Eden and waiting.

“Read the bottle.”

He held it up to his face, reading aloud. “Passionfruit Cider. Made and bottled on Maui. Oh shit. Oh SHIT! Are we going back to Maui?”

“We’re going in March cause that’s the only time when I could put two weeks together where we both don’t have work.”

Indy sunk down even further despite already being on the floor while they celebrated. She looked at the tiny box she’d brought for him, wanting to reach out and hide it behind her back.  

She didn’t get the chance to, because Ethan had already grabbed it, reading the tag. 

“Indiana you didn’t need to get me anything,” he said, and his sincerity made her feel a fraction better.

“Well, it’s no trip to Hawaii, so don’t get too excited. And your mom helped.”

He unwrapped the box carefully, opening the lid and staring down for a moment. 

“It’s a key,” he murmured, reaching in and pulling out the necklace, a silver key which sat on a matching chain horizontally.

“It’s a copy of the key to your house here, but as a necklace. I know you really miss home while you’re gone, and you wear necklaces sometimes, so I thought I could make you a little reminder.”

“You made this?” He looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah! It’s not much, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it's perfect Inds. Seriously, I love it, thank you so much.” 

Indy blushed anyways, not really believing his words but trying to accept them as he leaned over to hug her, grateful for the change of subject when it was announced that it was Grayson’s turn. 

He started with Eden’s, smiling wide at the tool belt that he pulled out, yelling when he realized it was customized with his name on the side.

“You can use that to build that side table you keep telling me you’re gonna make me,” Eden teased, which devolved into a moment of playful bickering. Indy used the time to line up the boxes in the right order, biting her lip when she handed him the first one.

“That’s way too many gifts,” Grayson said, frowning at her a bit.

“It’s really just one, it’s like a - well they go together - just, just open it.”

He did as she asked, pulling the paper off and unboxing the first one.

“A fucking nutcracker! Fuck yes!” He yelled, starting to look at it a bit closer. “Wait. WAIT. Is this Cudi?” 

“What!?” Ethan piped up before Indy could even answer.

“Bro it looks like Man On The Moon End of The Day cover, look at the fucking colors, and the moon.” He pointed to specific parts on the body of the doll, showing his brother who leaned over his shoulder.

“Open the next one,” Indy laughed, passing him the box.

He was quicker with that one, yelling so loud that Gizmo started to yell in the kitchen as he recognized the album art from Man On The Moon II, all tans, blacks and stars. 

“Holy fucking shit these are so fucking cool! Give me the next one, holy fuck.”

Indy passed them along, laughing when each reaction was just as dramatic as the first. The Indicudi was Indy’s favorite, with the mixture of reds and oranges. The collection started to take shape as he sat them out next to one another, adding the simplistic Satellite Flight nutcracker next, followed by the neutrals of Speedin’ Bullet 2 Heaven. Passion Pain and Demon Slayin’ matched well with the bright colors of Man On The Moon III, and Grayson was so excited by the end of the six that he had to stand up and run a lap before he came back and pulled Indy to her feet. 

“You like them?”

“You got me Cudi’s discography in fucking nutcracker form. I fucking love it, and I fucking love you.” He kissed her like no one was in the room, her heartbeat so loud in her ears that she didn’t even hear Lisa’s ‘awe’ from behind them.  

“I love you too,” she murmured against him, letting him hold her for a minute before he dropped back down to his knees to look at the collection, dissecting every detail like a six year old with a brand new toy. 

Ethan was just as enthralled, and she wished she could be as chilled out as Eden seemed as she sat and watched them. But instead, she was running numbers in her head, trying to calculate how much a trip to Maui for two would cost with airfare and lodging put together. 

She’d thought she’d gone overboard with the $300 collection of nutcrackers. For her, it was anyways - she’d timed her showers for two weeks and left them lukewarm in an attempt to save some money on her utility bill to justify it. Her mind spun for a moment as she thought about the little stack of Christmas presents hidden under her bed. A sweater for Lisa, a roll of film for Charlie to go with the new camera Dev was buying her. Fuzzy socks and a candle each for Eden and Cam that she’d found on a good sale. The thought of them sitting next to big extravagant gifts she was sure would arrive on the 25th made her deflate, so much that Grayson sensed it enough to pull himself away from his new toys.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

“I’m here,” she said, giving him a smile that didn’t make it to her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was have him worried about her on a day that was supposed to be about him. He returned one in hopes it would lighten her mood, but he knew not to push it. In fact, he didn’t bring it up until they were back at Indy’s apartment, in their pajamas after eating extra cake that Lisa had sent home with them. 

“Did you have a good birthday?” Indy asked, tracing H-A-P-P-Y-B-D-A-Y on his chest.

“I did. Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah! Yeah, it was good. But today was for you, it doesn’t really matter what kind of day I had.”

“It always matters what kind of day you had,” he countered. “You seemed kinda upset when we were giving presents.” 

“Oh, yeah, it was no big deal. I just didn’t feel like I got you guys enough stuff. 21 is a big birthday.”

He leaned back enough so he could see her face, frowning down at her. 

“First off, it’s only a big birthday because you can drink, which doesn’t matter to me. Second, you gave us both more than enough, I have no idea why you think that.”

“Eden got Ethan a trip to fucking Maui.”

“And?”

“I got him a key. On a chain.” 

“Which is probably the most thoughtful gift he’s gotten in a really long time.” 

“It cost $20.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you can buy people whatever you want.”

“We’re just in different life stages,” he said. “You’ll be making bank once you’re out of school, you just have to get to that point. And even then, it doesn’t matter what you buy people for gifts. They only care that you’re there with them.”

Indy resisted the urge to repeat her words back to him again. She didn’t really expect him to understand where she was coming from.

“Yeah, I hope so.” She ran her hands down over his ribs under the covers, smiling when she felt him sigh under her. “By the time I pay off my loans Ethan and Eden will probably have three kids, you’ll have to spot us for all the baby shower presents.”

It was Grayson’s turn to fall quiet. He could see it - see Indy in a little pink sundress out in their LA backyard, celebrating a new baby on the way, talking with Eden and Lisa, helping Adele organize tables. And he wanted it. But he held her in his arms and thought about all that would come for her before that time came, and his heart tightened in his chest when he realized that he wouldn’t be there to see it.

“Tell me about school.”

She sat up a bit, running her hands through his hair.

“That’s what you wanna do with the last hour of your birthday? Hear about school?” 

“Yeah. Just wanna hear you talking to me,” he said, ignoring the tightness in his throat. 

She did as he asked, talked about the classes she had left and what order she’d have to take them in, the application process, the in’s and out’s of medical school as he tried to memorize every inflection of her voice, her laugh, and the feeling of her pressed up against him. 

When they woke up, it seemed that the holiday season had fully taken hold overnight. Suddenly, the days were flying by in blurs of Christmas lights and shopping. The pair were together 24/7, attached at the hip every moment that they could get away with. When Grayson was recording the podcast, Indy was just out of sight on the floor listening. While Indy was clearing out her laptop from the semester, Grayson was sitting behind her on the bed braiding her hair. Before they knew it they were trying to fit Bekah’s presents, and the cookies they made for the nurses into an already packed backseat of the truck on Christmas Eve.

A blanket of snow still rested in the city, muffling the city sounds it seemed as they drove. They were bundled up enough that Grayson wasn’t worried about them being recognized in the short walk to the hospital, and they shed their layers once they were inside the warm walls. They took the elevator, not minding the slow climb up to Bekah’s floor. But when they got to the desk to sign in, the nurses looked weary. Indy chucked it up to having to work the holiday and hoped that the cookies would lift their spirits when she left them on the counter. 

Bekah’s room had a small tree in the corner, covered in colorful lights and generic silver and red ornaments that were identical to those in every other room of the hospital. Bekah hardly reacted when she saw the duo enter in, though she tried. She sat up as much as she could but ended up back flat on her bed. 

“Hey Beks, hold on, let me help.” Indy rushed over to her side, fumbling for the buttons to raise the back of her bed up so she could sit up and see the room. Grayson held up her stack of presents with his biggest smile, the one Indy loved where he would clench his teeth. Bekah lit up, grinning wide at the two of them. Her skin was pale, and they could tell that she’d lost weight, but her smile was just the same. 

“Earrings, you double as Santa on the weekends or something? They already give the sick kids pity presents, you didn’t have to go so hard.” 

“These are from Indy actually,” Grayson said. Indy bit her tongue. She’d picked them out, but Grayson had footed the bill.

“They’re from both of us,” she corrected. “You feel good enough to open them now?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” 

And she was good. But she wasn’t great. Just unwrapping the boxes seemed to zap out the small energy store she had left. Indy wished she’d had the foresight to package them in bags instead of boxes, make it a bit easier for her to open. But the excitement was enough for her to make it through opening the new Christmas blanket, which was covered in cats and dogs in festive sweaters, a Harry Styles crewneck and new fuzzy socks. The last box was an Among Us shirt, with a little purple crewmate peeking out of the pocket - Bekah was notorious for how many hours she spent playing (Gray and Indy would sometimes hop on and play a few games with her when they weren’t there). 

“You guys are the best,” she said, letting the pile of presents rest on her bed. She yawned, so hard she leaned back and her beanie slipped off her smooth head. Grayson watched as she reached for it and winced, and suddenly he was watching his dad there in the bed, trying to get to his phone on the bedside table, wincing in pain. His breath caught in his chest and he blinked hard, trying to come back to reality.

And then Bekah closed her eyes, and laid perfectly still. It was quiet in the room for a moment, and a wave of nausea rose in Grayson, so strong that he raised his hand up to his mouth.

“Beks?” He choked out.

“She’s okay, she’s okay.” Indy rushed to reassurances. “Look, look at her monitor.”

The blips on the heart monitor line meant much more to Indy than they did to Grayson, but he recognized them enough to catch his breath.

“Sometimes, when someone is exhausted like that, they lapse in consciousness for a little while. It’s a defense mechanism, she’s okay.”

“For a second I thought - fuck,” he huffed, running his hand over his face. Indy moved beside him, taking his hand in hers and kissing his knuckles one by one.

“What the fuck.”

They both turned to the bed, where Bekah’s eyes were open again. But they were unfamiliar somehow, none of that usual Bekah charm that warmed the dark pools of brown in sight. 

“Bekah-” Indy tried, but she was cut off.

“You two are dating? Seriously? What is this, community service date night?”

“Beks-” Grayson spoke up.

“I never ask for much, but fuck you two. Fuck you.”

“Bekah, hey.” Indy took a step towards her bed, and Bekah recoiled.

“I try. I try really fucking hard not to think about how fucked up and shitty my life is. I’m 15, and I’m dying. I’m never gonna go back to school. No prom, no graduation, no wedding. Not even a fucking boyfriend before I die and everyone forgets me. The least you could do is not rub it in my fucking face.” 

“Bekah, you can’t think like that. You’re gonna get better, you’re gonna get all those things,” Grayson said, blinking through the tears that had formed without warning in his eyes. They fell down his cheeks in uneven droplets, hot and unfamiliar. 

“Yeah? Just like Emma was gonna get better right? Well, her funeral was last week. She’s never going to play hide and seek again, much less anything else. What about Damion from my last radiation rotation hmm? God was gonna come down and heal him too right? Then why is he dead, huh? Where’s God in all this? Where’s my fucking happy ending? I’m gonna get the inside of a box, that’s what I’m gonna get, and no one will fucking admit it because I’m a kid, and I’m supposed to be here longer than this! I’m supposed to have more time! I’m supposed to get to do stupid shit in college, and grow up, and find my person but no. I’m never going to get those things, so fuck you both for throwing it in my face.”

“Bekah-” Indy’s voice broke on the word.

“Get out. Both of you, out.”

“Bekah please.”

“OUT!”

Her yell was loud enough to alert a passing nurse in the hallway, and she stepped inside.

“You two need to step out of the room please.”

The sobs didn’t take hold until they were in the hallway. They ripped out of Indy without warning or grace, and Grayson did all he could to hold her pieces together as she started to shatter. 

“Shhh, Dee, hey, it’s okay, let’s go outside,” Grayson tried to comfort her through his own tears, leading her towards the doors.

A hand caught his shoulder and he turned his head to see Jessica in her scrubs, coming out of another patient’s room.

“What did she say?”

Indy perked up from where her face had been buried. 

“What did Bekah say?” She asked again

“She’s agitated, talking about how her life is being cut short, how she’s dying. She told us to leave.”

Jessica sighed, looking down at her shoes. 

“We’re on our last resort. A final round of chemo and radiation. If this doesn’t work, we’re out of options. And it’s going to be brutal, it’s spread to her brain. You’ll have to be patient with her, she’s probably going to go through some personality shifts. She’ll be more emotional, more irritable. Sometimes she might be disoriented. This type of cancer, when it’s in the brain, it’s unpredictable. One minute she could be fine, the next she could be completely unrecognizable. Give her a few days, wait until after the holidays when everything is back to routine, and give it another try okay? Hopefully it’s better when things are a bit more normal.”

“Yeah,” Indy sniffled. Jessica put a hand on her shoulder.

“Indiana her face lights up when you two walk in that room. She talks about you guys non stop when you aren’t here. She’ll come around from whatever it was, okay? Just give her some time. We’ll be here to take care of her, don’t you worry.”

Indy wasn’t sure why, but she pulled Jessica into a hug. The woman was surprised, but she reciprocated anyways with a squeeze. 

“Sweet girl. It’ll be okay,” she murmured, which only made the tears flow even more when she let go. 

Indiana transferred from one set of arms to the other, back into Grayson’s strong grip which only loosened when he pressed the button for the doors. When they made it to the ocean hallway, it all hit at once, and her legs gave out. She caught herself on the support bars as Grayson lowered her to the ground. They came in waves that she couldn’t control, not for want of trying. 

“I’m s-s-sorry,” she stuttered, trying to force air into her lungs. Someone down the hall pulled a door closed quietly. 

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay. Breathe baby, just breathe,” Grayson murmured, running his thumbs under her eyes to try and wipe her mascara, which was running down her red cheeks in dark streaks. He waited until she was able to take a few solid breaths before he spoke again. 

“C’mon, let’s go to Jersey. I’ll take you to Jersey.” 

She put most of her weight on him while they took the stairs out into the cold streets. It had begun to snow again, and the cold only added to the stinging in her eyes as he led her to the truck. She wondered in that moment how many times he’d had to hold her together, and her stomach twisted in guilt for a moment at the thought. Even still, she huddled into Grayson until he opened her door for her, immediately moving over as close to him as she could, pushing the middle console up to make it a bench seat and scooting to the middle when he climbed in.

His Dad had once told him it was important to be a confident one handed driver - you never knew what you’d have to hold in your passenger seat, he’d said. At the time, he was referring to the four large pizzas that ended up leaving a permanent grease mark in his jeep seat. But Grayson was thankful for the advice as he maneuvered the car out of the spot and out of the parking garage with an arm still around his girl.

The roads were quiet, and he questioned it until he remembered that it was in fact Christmas Eve. He slowed down when they got to the Jersey neighborhoods, looked at all the lights, all the families he could see in the windows, huddled around their bright trees. He could remember those nights like they were yesterday, him and Ethan sneaking to the top of the stairs to try to catch a glimpse at the big man with the red sack. When they were five they’d seen him and ran to wake their sister. They’d all watched in amazement as he placed presents under the tree and ate the cookies they’d left.

He’d found the santa suit in a box in his dad’s closet when they went through his things after his funeral. 

“Does your family have any Christmas traditions?” He asked quietly, running his arm quickly over Indiana’s arm in a bid to keep her warm as he drove. The cool wind that was whipping the snow around seemed to be outrunning the heater in the truck. 

“We did. We would watch Elf the night before, cause it was mom’s favorite. We did the cookies, the stockings, all that stuff too. But we always had grilled cheese and soup for dinner too.”

“Grilled cheese and soup?”

“Yeah. That was mom’s idea too. She always said we could leave extra room for a good Christmas morning breakfast if we ate grilled cheese and soup. So we always ended up in the living room with our plates and bowls and Christmas PJs watching elf. Turns out, warm soup was always her trick to get us to go to sleep early. Made me and Charlie tired I guess. She told me it worked like a charm every time. What do the Dolan’s do?”

“Ours is more Christmas morning. We do the whole giant breakfast thing. We open stockings first, and Santa presents, then we do breakfast and then we do the rest of the presents. Used to drive us crazy when we were little, cause all the presents would just be waiting for us. But Mom said it was so we were grateful for our food too, cause it was a gift that we had it on our table at all.” 

“Li is a good mom,” Indy sighed, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Her eyes were tired, the kind where your eyelids feel like they weigh ten pounds a piece, but she fought with them and won, still awake when they made it to the house. She hopped out and moved to the backseat, but Grayson caught her.

“I’ll carry the stuff in. Go get cleaned up, take a hot shower and relax. Mom will be worried, she always knows when someone has been crying, it’s like a sixth fucking sense.” 

For once, Indy didn’t argue. Instead, she went in the house as quietly as she could, grateful that even Gizmo didn’t seem to note her arrival. She snuck up the stairs to Grayson’s closet, grabbing an old thick flannel and a sports bra that she’d left, plus some sweatpants, considering she’d left her bag in the truck.

She had never been so thankful for a shower. She lost track of how long she let the warm water wash over her head, closing her eyes and focusing on the feeling of the stream against her skin. It was peaceful, but surreal in a way. She thought about where she’d imagined herself on Christmas Eve night at the beginning of the year, and it looked so vastly different than where she was, on the cold tiles of a New Jersey shower with her boyfriend carrying in gifts downstairs. The thought of him waiting for her gave her enough motivation to get cleaned up, though she had to resort to using Grayson’s shampoo and bodywash, which was an unlabeled Wakeheart sample he’d been testing out it seemed. It smelled fresh, with a vanilla mixture that was reminiscent of Jet’s.

Indiana was in higher spirits when she sauntered down the stairs, and her heart swelled a few sizes when she heard a familiar song in the background - the title screen of Elf, waiting on the TV in the living room. She checked rooms until she found Grayson, standing in front of the stove with two pots and a skillet going. She didn’t have to ask. Instead, she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. 

He spun around, spatula in hand until they were chest to chest as he watched the stove over her head, holding her close to make sure she didn’t get burnt. He nuzzled into her wet hair, and then sniffed harder.

“You smell like me,” he noted.

“Had to use your stuff. I like that body wash though, which one is that?”

“Can’t remember. Let me see.” He reached around and caught her arm, smelling her skin.

“Ah. That’s Polis.” 

She looked up at him. 

“Polis? Like… Poland?”

He chuckled against her, flipping over a grilled cheese.

“Polis as in the end of Indianapolis. A smell that makes you seem put together and professional with a sweet note at the end. Vanilla. Like your lattes.”

As he often seemed to, he rendered her speechless enough that all she could do was press a kiss to his chest and wrap her arms around him, under his sweatshirt to trace on his back.

L-O-V-E-Y-O-U

He kissed the top of her head and stirred the soup. 

Ten minutes later and they were cozied up on a makeshift palette on the floor under a few blankets, with soup and sandwiches in hand. Grayson had made himself three vegan grilled cheese and tomato soup, and caved and given Indy the last can of chicken noodle in the cabinet because he knew it was her favorite even if it wasn’t vegan, though her grilled cheese was vegan as well. They watched Elf play, laughing and noting all the familiar NY scenery. Indy swore the man in the red jumpsuit had come into Jet’s before. They sipped their soup out of the bowl, and Indy listened to Grayson talk about the cinematography, trying to follow all that he was saying. 

Once the bowls and plates were sat aside, they found themselves wrapped in each other’s arms, and Nicole’s old trick seemed to work, considering Indy was asleep before the end credits. Grayson carried her upstairs and put her to bed before going back down to clean up.

Though he tried to get into bed without waking her up again, he didn’t quite manage it, his weight moving the mattress just enough for her to stir and open her eyes. 

“Sorry baby, it’s just me. You fell asleep.”

“Hmmm. C’mere,” she murmured, opening up her arms. He laughed, knowing that if he laid on her the way she was asking that he’d press all the air out of her lungs. Instead, he pulled her on top of him and slotted their legs together, revealing in the feeling of their skin pressed together. She was warm for once since she’d been under the covers, and he hoped his fingers weren’t cold as he began to trace patterns against her back. 

“I love you,” she hummed, tracing a swirl over his ribs lazily.

“I love you too.”

“Forever.”

“Hmm?” He asked.

“I’m going to love you forever. I can feel it. I’m yours forever Grayson Dolan, and don’t you forget it.”

He pressed a kiss to her head and felt her finger against his ribs. F-O-R-E-V-E-R.

“I’ll love you forever too Indy. Forever.”

The tears returned.

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

Grayson was the first up the next morning, after a restless night of sleep - or so he thought. Lisa was in the kitchen, watching the snow continue to fall outside. It coated the trees outside and muffled the woods in a blanket of white. Lisa turned to greet her son, and frowned. 

“Have you been crying?”

He hadn’t shed a tear since the night before, but he should have known she would know. A mother always does.

“Just some stuff with Bekah. She’s not doing well, and I feel bad cause I won’t see her again until next time we come visit after we leave.”

“You can always call, and she’ll have Indy. She’ll be okay love.” She stood and ruffled his hair as she passed, headed to pour him a cup of coffee.

“It’s not as good as Indy’s, but it’ll do,” she smiled, rubbing her hand over his shoulder. They sipped in silence for a moment as the world woke up.

“Do you remember the year Dad dressed up for Christmas? When we were five?”

“Oh yeah. That was your Poppy John’s idea, he did it for Sean when he was little. Said it made him believe in Santa for a few more years. Your dad wanted to keep you guys kids as long as he could, and he knew Cameron was going to figure it out sooner than later. He also knew you two would be spying. You tried it when you were four, but you both fell asleep on the stairs before you could see any action. He told you Santa must have carried you to bed when you woke up that morning.” 

“Holy shit, I remember that.” He paused for a moment, reflecting. “You all always went all out for us on the holidays, I never really thought about it. Thanks.”

Lisa smiled the warm smile that only mom’s could really give, and patted his hand on the table. “I just hope you’ll do the same for your kids one day. I know you will.” She paused for a moment, and then she smiled. “You remember what he told us, on that last Christmas? About what he was gonna do?”

Grayson could hear his father’s voice in his head for a moment, and it made his throat tight.

“Yeah. Said he’d give us white Christmases for the rest of our lives if he could.”

Lisa lifted her mug towards the windows.

“Merry Christmas Sean.” Her words hung in the air, and Grayson swallowed the lump in his throat, watching the snow fall. 

Eventually he went back to bed to coax Indy awake about an hour later, smiling at her bedhead when she rolled over.

“Merry Christmas Dee,” he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. Her eyes widened a bit quicker than normal.

“It’s Christmas!”

“Yep,” Grayson laughed, brushing her hair out of her face. She caught his hand and pulled him down over top of her, the covers wedged between them as she kissed him.

“Merry Christmas,” she said against his lips, and he melted into her. He couldn’t think of how many Christmas morning’s he’d woke up wishing to have someone there with him. It brought a new kind of excitement that quieted his mind for the time being, and he happily scooped her up and sat her on her feet so they could go wake up the other duo of the house. 

By the time they convinced E squared to arise - which took jumping on the bed, a promise of lattes and the threat of cold water - Lisa was already halfway done with breakfast.

Grayson hadn’t exaggerated - there was a huge assortment of fruit, pastries and coffee to get everyone started. 

“Stockings first! Well, coffee, then stockings!” Lisa clapped her hands and passed out mugs. Indy channeled her Jet’s days to make the lattes quickly, funneling in behind everyone as they headed to the fireplace to grab their stockings.

She melted when she noticed the I. 

“Lisa, you didn’t need to do that.”

“Oh hush. Okay red E is Ethan, white E is Eden…” she trailed off as she passed them out, slightly confused when she watched Ethan reach underneath the tree to pull out a stocking for his mom that the boys had filled. 

Indy was let in on the stocking tradition when she opened it. Everyone got essentials - a new toothbrush, socks, chapstick, lotion. She also threw in each person’s favorite candy and a giftcard to a local ice cream shop in town with vegan options. Lisa’s stocking was more extravagant, with some of her favorite high-end hair products, a certificate for a free massage, and lots of bath bombs that were Wakeheart testers. She hugged her boys necks when they all stood up, up on her tiptoes so she could reach. Everyone funneled into the kitchen after that, the boys in charge of the vegan meat options while Indy and Eden helped with the biscuits and cinnamon rolls. They ate around a full table, laughing and telling stories of Christmas. Eden won the most interesting story with one about her holiday with her extended family back in the Philippines, in which they’d spent Christmas using buckets to get water out of the house from a monsoon that had made landfall, a rarity for that late in the year. 

Time seemed to fast forward as they moved to open presents. The boys spoiled Lisa, as they always did. A new iPhone, expensive tennis shoes to help her back while she worked. New signs for the garden beds that Grayson built and Ethan painted, a canvas print of the picture Charlie had taken from Thanksgiving. They saved the topaz ring for last, knowing it would make her cry. Her tears were enough to get Ethan’s eyes prickling - forever the mama’s boy, who just hugged her while she let it out, Grayson joining in a few moments later. She opened her sweater from Indy, complimenting the color, and a new set of Airpods from Eden, seeing that she’d lost her first set. 

They moved on to Eden next. She also got a new phone from Ethan, which she smacked his arm for buying considering she knew how expensive they were, ignoring the fact that her phone barely held 20 minutes of battery anymore. Grayson got her a new sketchbook with a set of top line pencils and markers for her to sketch out her work designs, and Indy bought her a pair of Nike’s that she’d had her eyes on. Lisa got her a gift card to her favorite restaurant in LA - a non vegan one that she proposed could be used on a girls date when Lisa came to visit.

Indy was next. She had always hated opening gifts in front of people but she swallowed her un-comfort and proceeded through the boxes. Lisa bought her a nice blow dryer, remembering that she’d complained about hers once and raved about the one that she let Indy borrow. Eden bought her a new outfit - it was a bit out of Indy’s comfort zone, with the patterned pants and bright top, but she hoped she’d be able to pull it off. Both Eden and Gray assured her that she could. Ethan bought her a print of the state of Indiana, laughing at the way she tried to pretend that she loved it. 

“Read the back.” 

She flipped it over, squinting to try to read his messy handwriting that told her to check behind the tree. Sure enough, she found a box with a stethoscope in it. Top of the line, one of the more expensive brands.

“Every doctor needs one of those things, at least that’s what google told me. It’s got your initials on it too, cause apparently people try to steal them.” 

He dismissed her claims that it was too much, and instead urged her to open Graysons gifts. The first was a speaker, because ‘Cudi needs to be played loud and well’, followed by a bag full of clothes. She pulled the first piece out and gasped.

“You bought me scrubs?”

“Yeah. I know you were stressed out about them being expensive, and I knew you’d use them. I bought five sets, I hope that’s enough. And I asked the nurses at Frazier what the best brand was, but if you don’t like those I have the receipt.” 

“I’m sure they’re perfect. Thank you bub, I love them.”

She knew that Grayson had held back, and she was appreciative, especially as they got closer to his gifts. Luckily, Ethan was born first and therefore got first dibs. He got a custom longboard from Eden that she’d designed with all his favorite things, including a thermal painting of a very scandalous picture of her on the bottom that she’s covered with a piece of paper so Lisa didn’t see. Grayson got him an envelope with three tattoo appointments that he’d managed to get with their favorite artist in LA, who was usually booked up for months in advance. Lisa bought him a new jacket and boots, while Indy bought him a pair of headphones designed for the inside of a helmet, so he could listen to music while he skated. 

Grayson was the last to go. Eden got him new sweatshirts since he ‘wore the same ones all the time’, while Lisa bought him a sweater and jacket. Ethan bought him extra organizers for his closet and a minimalistic nutcracker, though he admitted it didn’t stand a chance of taking the spot of one of the Cudi nutcrackers, which stood tall on the mantle. Finally, he opened his bag from Indy, smiling when he pulled out a few things. The first was a journal, made of recycled paper and bound in a dark green cover with his name on the front in gold. The next was a Jet’s gift card, a small inside joke between the two of them. The final one was a picture frame. It was simple, black with flecks of gold along the edges. Within it, the first picture they’d ever taken together, in the mirror of Indy’s room where half his body was covered in her writing, labeled muscles. 

“Can’t lie, I spent most of my budget on your birthday. But I have a matching picture to put on my shelf, so I figured you might like it.”

“I love it,” he reassured her, kissing her cheek quickly, a sweet moment before the bustle of clean up began. The afternoon flew by with movies playing in the background and the snow continuing to fall outside. The boys cleaned off the cars, and after sunset, they appeared with a duffle bag each and a mischievous look on their faces.

“C’mon, we’ve got one more gift to show you guys.” 

Lisa waved goodbye from the front porch as both couples climbed into the truck, the girls in the back.

“Do you know what this is about?” Eden whispered.

“No idea.”

So they waited patiently until they finally put the pieces together - it only clicked when Ethan got out and opened the gate.

The trail looked different from the seat of the truck. Partially because it had been cleared out, but mainly because they weren’t on the back of a quad, with the wind whipping in their faces.

Hidden away in the snow covered clearing, the tiny homes were covered in snow. The lights inside were glowing a warm yellow, inviting them in from the cold. Grayson parked halfway between the two, coming around to get the duffle bag before turning around, a sign for Indy to climb on his back.

She didn’t argue, considering he had the advantage of snow boots over her, and climbed on, hugging onto him tight as he trudged through the snow to the front door. He kicked the snow off his boots on the small front porch and then opened the door, the draft of warm air already enticing. 

The inside was more beautiful than Indy could have imagined it would have been. She remembered trying to visualize it when Grayson had explained where everything would be - it felt like years ago, that warm fall day. But the kitchen was exactly as he had said it would be, minimalistic with dark wood that looked black in the dim light and white cabinets. The stairs were beautifully done, and Indy found herself climbing to the loft to find the queen size bed that awaited them, with the triangular window that looked out over the trees. 

“This is incredible,” she mused, looking down over the balcony at him. He beamed up at her, taking her in. Her skin glowed in the warm light, her hair washed yellow in a beautiful tone as it hung around her shoulders. He found himself kicking off his shoes and climbing the stairs to meet her, abandoning his plan of giving her a full tour in favor of exploring her instead. 

She followed his movement like water in an ancient stream, cut out and formed just for her to flow along, and they ended up on the bed with her back against the soft mattress.

“Are we christening the house?” Her words were muffled by his lips, which were eager and hungry against hers, a feeble attempt to drown out his thoughts. He kissed her incessantly instead of answering, pressing all her buttons to make her melt for him. The heater was small and nestled downstairs, goosebumps rising in the cold air as they lost layer after layer, chasing the heat of each other.

He held her as close to him as he possibly could, blocked out the cold and the doubt as he bit onto her shoulder and rocked her in sync with his hips, watched her head fall back and his name sing from her lips as she came undone over and over again until she was putty in his hands. He came so hard he saw stars, slowing down with her still in his arms.

She was in such a daze that it took her a moment to come to her senses and remember that she needed to go downstairs to pee and get cleaned up. As soon as she was out of his sight, the realization of what he’d just done came crashing down on Grayson. The guilt crushed his lungs as he finally admitted to himself that he knew he was hurting Indy. He knew she deserved to know where his mind was at, where it had been ever since Ethan had brought it up. He’d been selfish, and cruel, and as he sat there naked he’d never felt more ashamed in his life. He scrambled to get his clothes back on before Indy came back up. 

She was still blissful, her legs a bit wobbly as she tried to navigate the unfamiliar stairs. But she frowned when she saw his winter coat. 

“Those aren’t pajamas.”

Grayson jumped at the sound of her voice.

“Yeah, uh, Ethan texted me, he said their heater isn’t working, asked me to come look at it.” 

“Oh. That sucks, you want me to come help? I can hold a flashlight or something,” she offered.

“No, no it’s cold, you just stay here and relax, I’ll be back. Might take a while, but I’ll be back.”

“No promises that I won’t be asleep,” she teased, climbing under the covers. “This bed is better than mine I think.”

“Get some rest, I’ll be back soon.” 

“Okay. I’ll save a spot for you. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He headed down the stairs, slipping his boots on as quickly as he could and choking back his sobs until he was out of the door. He trudged blindly across the yard, only guided by the lights from the windows, and he knocked on the door.

He couldn’t imagine what he looked like when Eden opened the door. But it was bad enough that she didn’t say a word. Instead, she simply turned and called for Ethan, who took one look at him and pulled on his coat, following him out into the snow towards the truck. 

Safe inside the cab and in the presence of his brother, Grayson fell to pieces. Ethan could only remember a handful of times that his brother had cried so hard, and he held him tight in his arms as best be could, shaking with him as the sobs ripped their way out of him. 

Ethan didn’t even attempt to talk, only to console as best he could until Grayson could finally breathe. He pulled the extra inhaler out of the glove box and made his brother take a few puffs when he started to wheeze, holding the canister up to his lips.

“Breathe Gray, c’mon, you’ve gotta breathe so you can talk to me. You gotta tell me what’s wrong so I can help. Hey, I’m right here, it’s me. You can tell me, it’s okay.” 

Grayson finally caught his breath enough to calm down, with his hands gripping onto Ethan’s jacket collar like his life depended on it.

“I’m gonna break her E. I’m gonna destroy her and it’s all my fault. I love her, fuck, I love her. What am I supposed to do?”

Ethan sucked in a long breath through his nose, looking over at Grayson’s house.

“You haven’t told her.” It wasn’t a question.

“I wanted to, I fucking can’t. Every time I think I can tell her I just think about what it’s gonna do to her. What it’s gonna do to me. I don’t know what the right thing is here E, you gotta tell me.”

“You know I can’t do that.” 

“Fuck that, you’re me, we’re each other, you know me better than I know me. Tell me what to do.” 

Ethan could barely see his brother’s face, but the little bit of light from the moon showed enough pain in his eyes to have Ethan’s stomach twisting. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed.

“You know what I’m gonna say.” 

Grayson’s breath hitched once, and then a new wave of sobs took over. He shook so hard that Ethan was convinced the entire cab was shaking with him. Ethan held him, willed himself to absorb some of the pain, as much as he could, anything to help. 

“If it’s the right thing why does it hurt this bad?”

“I don’t know Gray. I don’t know.” 

“I love her.”

“I know.”

“She loves me.”

“I know.”

“Then how is this the right thing?”

Ethan paused for a moment, holding steady on Grayson’s shoulders.

“What would dad say? If he was here with us, right now, what would he say?”

Grayson pressed into his eyes with the heel of his palms and sniffled.

“He’d say that it wasn’t fair. He’d be mad that I hadn’t told her yet, and he’d say that she’s a good person who shouldn’t have to give up on her dreams for mine. He’d tell me to do what’s best for her, I know that. God, FUCK!” He smacked the dashboard so hard that Ethan heard something crack. He wished there was a way that he could protect his brother in that moment more than anything. Usually, he could step up, take the heat, take the attention off him if he needed. It was one of the few times that he felt truly helpless.

“You don’t have to do it tonight. You still have a few days. Just think about what you want to say, and bring it up whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m never gonna be ready, Ethan. That’s the love of my life, and I’m just supposed to walk away? And what’s she gonna say, when she finds out I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, and I haven’t said shit, huh? She’s not gonna want anything to do with me. She’s not gonna love me anymore, Ethan, and I can’t live with that. I can’t.” His voice cracked, and Ethan’s heart cracked with it.

“If it’s meant to work out, it will somehow. We’ve always believed that.”

“How?” It was a plea more than a question.

“I don’t know Gray. I don’t know.” 

Grayson didn’t know how long they sat in silence. They didn’t need words, just the comfort of each other’s presence as he ran through line after line of what he was going to say. He had to do it then, there was no other option. He had to tell her as soon as he got back, or he was afraid that he never would. But every time he closed his eyes to think, his mind was flooded with her, a kaleidoscope of memories and moments that he couldn’t imagine not making more of. He thought of the way his soul ached every time she cried, and he couldn’t fathom how much worse it would be when he was the cause of it. 

He threw the door open without warning, stepping back out into the snow. It took Ethan a few steps to catch him, but when he did he pulled him into a hug, a real one, and pressed his face into his shoulder. 

“I love you bro. We’ll get through it. You’ll be okay.” 

Grayson always knew when his twin was lying, but he tried his best to believe it. The cold wind stung on his wet cheeks as he went back to the house, kicking off his boots. He took the stairs one at a time as slowly as he could, his panic growing with each one. 

When his foot cleared the final step, he saw her.

She was asleep, curled up under the covers in her New York sweatshirt, hands folded underneath her face. He just stared at her, tried to memorize every feature on her face.

He could have stood there for hours, but she stirred only a moment later. Her eyes peered open just enough for him to see the blue, and then they closed again, a small smile stretching across her lips.

“Come to bed baby. S’warm.” 

Every cell in his body screamed at him, tried to pull him back as he slid out of his coat, out of his flannel, stepped out of his pants. His brain called him every name in the book, told him he was pathetic, weak, manipulative.

But his heart beat just a bit slower at the thought of being in her arms, even if it was just for a moment, the familiar home he’d made for himself comforting enough to let him drown the rest out and climb under the covers and over to her, pulling her into his arms as he pressed his lips together and let his eyes fall closed.

[c0rpsedemon]

hnoc's crimes, a non-comprehensive list:

- not enough palomydes (i like him, he's very polite and i think he should get to hold hands with tristan and isolde (the irish one), he wasn't mentioned once)

- killing off both tristan and bedivere in one sentence (the two original variants of tristan's death were sooo sexy. and this? this wasn't. also bedevere usually lives and there's a narrative significance to bedevere being the last survivor of camelot. plus the like,,, one story i know of where he does die, there's a patroclus parallel there, they could have at least given me that)

- the two isoldes aren't even mentioned (they hate to see girlbosses winning)

- spelled ywain "uwain", kei "kay", and gawaine "gawain" (self explanatory)

- only had one ywain (there are over ten)

- old galahad (he's supposed to be a 15 year old who thinks he's better than everyone morally and kins jesus christ and has an eyestrain carrd filled with religious imagery and may or may not bite people)

- lancelot x arthur bad (alright this is a more serious one but lancelot couldn't be paid to care about arthur, like at all, his feelings range from disinterest to dislike, but more importantly arthur was like,,, 30,,, when lancelot was born and it was even said in the vulgate that arthur viewed him as a son)

- lancelot x guinnevere bad (alright this is bc medieval authors hated women and shouldn't be carried over to modern works but she was SO bad to him)

- arthur x guinnevere bad (HE TRIED TO KILL HER!!! REPEATEDLY!!!)

- the mechs don't know what a broadside ballad is (pellinore and the beast is described as one. it isn't)

- gawain (self explanatory)

- how DARE you separate mordred's betrayal from the deaths of his brothers, how DARE you make him betray anyone before gawain dies, how dare you make him oppose gawain, how DARE you portray mordred as the sympathetic and rational brother (demonstrates clear misunderstanding of mordred's character)

- where the fuck are the other orkneys, you don't understand gawaine or mordred's motivations, fuck you (namedropping gaheriet doesn't count, he's two separate characters by the end of the tradition)

- no galehaut (the most canon queer character in the tradition who?)

- story beats Bad (the grail quest had nothing to do with the fall of camelot it was elayne of astolat's death that caused it!!!! this is elayne of astolat erasure!!!)

- clearly based on pop culture a.rthuriana (pop culture a.rthuriana sucks)

- has clear th wh*te influence (seen in the existence of pendragon polycule and use of the phrase "once and future king", th wh*te was,,, very shitty to put it mildly and i don't want to trigger tag this post)

- has clear m*deline z*mmer br*dley influence (morgan as mordred's mother, once again i don't want to trigger tag this post but she's genuinely a monster and i hope she's rotting in hell)

- fridged morgan (what the fuck dude, she doesn't even die in ANY of the original texts)

- morgan as mordred's mother (i'm pretty sure they only speak to each other in like,,, one text, and even then they're part of a bigger group)

- ygraine as mordred's mother/arthur's lover (what the fuck dude THAT'S ARTHUR'S MOM)

- i hate pellinore's ass don't give him his own song (i don't want to trigger tag this, you could've given the song to palomydes and it'd have the same effect AND make the slightest bit more sense)

- guinnevere doesn't even vaguely resemble medieval guinnevere (she's a political genius ready to step in as regent at a moment's notice!! her role is strategist not gunslinger and she dhouldn't have to be able to fight to be seen as strong!! if you wanted a woman strong in the fighting sense there was morgan!! or sebile!! or even lynnette!!)

- arthur was a dick in the original (arthur was a dick in the original)

- villainized ladies of the lake (nimue/ninniane's only crime was what? sealing away merlin when he tried to [redacted bc i don't want to trigger tag this], she was obviously in the right!! vivviane/ninniane's only crime was kidnapping baby lancelot but she didn't know any better and he was fine with it!! (ninniane was proto-vivviane/nimue from the vulgate))

- merlin was a [redacted bc trigger tagging] in the original (you didn't have to have brian be him... you could have had brian be nimue and it still would've worked...)

- i've said it before and i'll say it again, if you wanted love-triangle-turned-polyamory, tristan, isolde and palomydes were right there!!! (this is pop culture arthuriana though so i'm willing to bet money the mechs saw that isolde was married to tristan's uncle and that was it when mark didn't even like her and he married her to piss of tristan and it was palomydes who was in love with her the whole time and i'm cutting myself off here bc i was writing this whole thing about why i thought tristan, palomydes and isolde were definitely in love and it was getting long)

- the conspicuous lack of palomydes, old galahad, and the whole perceval getting mentioned once thing means we don't get to think about palomydes having to babysit catholic children in the woods while they bully him into taking them with him to hunt the fucked up giraffe he's dedicated years of his life to (i like that scene)

.

alright this is all i can think of off the top of my head but like. yeah. i'm definitely going to rb this.

no this isn't in the place of that hnoc Bad essay i was writing. no i didn't forget about it for a month, what makes you think that? i'll post it Eventually. until then, follow my sideblog where i post about actually good a.rthuriana and also gothic lit, shakespeare, and classics sometimes (but mostly a.rthuriana), @acegalahads,

also if you want a) further explanation for any of these, b) to know what i refused to type, c) actually good arthurian recs, d) an explanation why i think palomydes, isolde and tristan are in love, or e) just know about anything arthurian, feels free to ask me, this may become not just a hyperfixation but a special interest and i love infodumping

[laufire]

Supernatural s3

It’s so unfair that the season that has Ruby AND Bela is so short :(((. I was done with it waaaay too quickly, and now I’m speed running through s4 xD (which, like the first time around, is Strong Mixed Feelings territory).

-My girl Ruby!!!! I was so happy to have her back, I kept grinning like a loon every time she was on screen. It’s quite interesting watching the 1.0 and 2.0 versions so close to each other, instead of as they air. I have... Thoughts, on whether Ruby as a double agent was something planned or that they decided as they went, but that’s for the s4 post. s3!Ruby really doesn’t come across as one (“I don’t believe in the devil” oh I wish sometimes xD, I love my nonbelievers), imo, but the beauty of such a device is that you can rationalize anything she does as devious if you want to xD

And it goes without saying that I love her interactions with Sam. THIS SHIP ISTG. I love how immediately ~attuned to her he is lol, his present and instinctive concern for her even if he tries to mask his interest as “practical”. And all the repeated times Sam’s conflicted between her and Dean -like when he deviates Dean shot (wasting one of the Colt’s bullets lmfao) or during the argument about the virgin sacrifice xD. And the “that’s my boy”/ “little fallen angel on your shoulder” quotes!!! Ruby 1.0 deserved to be railed by Sam too, smh.

My favourite episode of hers is “Jus in Bello” (which would be my fave of the season just by virtue of having both Bela and Ruby in the same episode lol. Not interacting, of course, the world as we know it wouldn’t have survived). I just love that she gets that final moment of I TOLD YOU SO to the brothers xD. I really like how she expands on the demonic lore of the show- I love, LOVE the detail about how all demons used to be humans, how they’re souls corrupted in hell. And that in her past life she was a witch (there was this really good fic in Spanish fandom about it... I need to hunt it down).

BTW, though I think her interactions with Dean in that episode are interesting, it really hammers home how much I hate him sometimes xD. Can you stop saying misogynistic slurs for TWO GODDAMN MINUTES, DEAN (and as we know from as early as this season, only HE can have demon/monster friends!! What a fucking hypocrite xD). I freaking love the moment in the finale when she viciously yells him about how she wishes she could see him in hell lmao (and how it foreshadows that when she shows sympathy later, it’s actually Lilith in disguise lmfao). I hate Dean gets the last word in their dynamic, tbqh. Until the s15 cameo, at least xDD

One thing that’s been bothering me xD: the French fries. Demons are vulnerable to salt, like other spirits, right? (and hey, look what a nice piece of foreshadowing that was). How does that translate to food lol. Because Ruby adores French fries, and they obviously contain salt. It’s like spicy food for humans? Or like pineapple? Inquiring minds etc. xD

-I still cannot believe Bela Talbot was only on the show for six episodes lmao. Her presence still lingers in the watchers’ heads so much?? Which is understandable because she’s Lead Girl Material if there was ever any lol. The care with which they styled her even?? You don’t do that for just any character lmao (I mean, just look at most of SPN’s female characters for comparison xD).

Her ship with Dean could’ve really been something, too -even if I hate Dean in it, I can’t deny it packs a punch, narrative-wise. I mean, the Batcat undertones alone!! The fake married undercover shenanigans!! And I think it’s really interesting that she’s such a blind spot for him; Dean’s unusually intuitive about people, but with Bela he takes everything at face value and she can fool him like no other (while, OTOH, is Sam who questions her facade and wants to see more). If he hadn’t been such an idiot (and such an asshole) he could’ve had a really powerful ship. Sucks to be him lol.

Anyway. Man, I love her. So much. I love how Gordon’s threats to kill her don’t work on her, and I love that the show basically said “Bela killing her abusive parents is good, actually” (I’m so tired of forgiveness narratives, you guys. This entire show is founded on revenge, so let me get my revenge fantasies in peace!!) xDD. And I love, LOVE that she withheld that truth from Dean, that she decided he wasn’t worth it. OTOH, you know, fuck the fans that got her written out, definitely; but on the other, I do love how her story ended (and that it was a clear "fuck you" to shitty fans). Doesn’t stop me for wanting to read and re-read (and maybe write!) even more “Bela escapes hell” fix-its, but still.

Also, very important question: what happened to her cat?? It’s the cat alright?? I’m going to headcanon that she left them with that cougar friend of hers lol.

-So. THE DEAL. Okay. Oof. I love this storyline, a lot. A loooot. I love the conflict it creates between the brothers (as long as there’s still conflict and Sam hasn’t yet started taking everything lying down I can enjoy that part of their narrative lol). I love Dean’s initial forced giddiness about “making the most out of his last year” and I love the moment Dean decides he does want to try to live because it makes the last few episodes all the most desperate and cruel (and hey, I’ve heard he only went to hell because the season was cut short due to a writers’ strike... if that’s true that’s so funny lmao).

My absolutely favourite part however? That you can FEEL Dean’s unvoiced resentment towards Sam. For Dean having to die for him, even if Sam never asked him to. He lashes out to Sam repeatedly through the season, but it really came to ahead in the dreamspace episode, where Dean confronts another version of himself that talks about how Sam was “dotted on” (the revisionism asldfkaf). This show is absolutely ruthless when it comes to showing you its characters’ ugly, unfair reactions to things and it’s my favourite thing evah.

Speaking of the dreamspace episode, OMFG. I loved both brothers there. Dean’s hallucination, seeing himself as a demon? And how he let out his anger about John?? Beautiful, truly (regarding John, I also loved their different reactions when it looked like his spirit had contacted them: Dean jumping on it and Sam detached skepticism). But my favourite part has to be when Sam uses the villain’s abusive father against him. Like. Damn. That was cold-blooded o.0

The second-to-last episode, when Sam tracked down that Frankenstein doctor to try and make Dean immortal was ABSOLUTELY HORRIFYING OMG. I loved that. I love that Sam wanted to use it for both them. It was some scary shit. I also love the scene where the crossroads demon questions whether Sam really wants to break the deal, I’m gathering it’s going to be nice foreshadowing later on in the show lol.

Anyway. I also found Dean’s death scene more impactful than Sam’s. Partially because of the horror of it, but mostly because I think at this type of scenes, Padalecki is better. Sam’s grief felt more real, Dean’s got me out of the scene (it’s the voice, I think. Sometimes Ackles’ voice takes me out of scenes, it sounds... forced).

I also really enjoyed how the time loop episode wrapped around this subplot. It managed to be both heartbreaking and mind-numbly hilarious lmfao. Like?? All the deaths?? Were so pathetic?? I tip my hat to Ackles because I don’t think most actors could carry plots like this half as well lmfao.

Sidenote, it’s always a trip to see The Trickster God knowing that fucker is Gabriel. Archangel “hey Mary do you accept God knocking you up” Gabriel. Which I guess isn’t exactly a thing in this show?? Since according to the wikia SPN Jesus was “just a man” (and let me tell you, I’m tickled pink by the fact that out of ALL mythological figures, specifically all CHRISTIAN mythological figures, the show decided to go “nah” on Jesus Christ. I mean, I guess he’d take away from Dean’s, Sam’s and Castiel’s resurrection narratives, but still. It’s so funny!!).

-Gordon Walker remains a superbly acted and fascinating character with extra racist nonsense alsdkfjasdf. But I can’t deny I loved seeing him as a vampire. He was terrifying. And I’m definitely shipping him with Kubrick, ouch xD

-The Ghostfacers episode is... something. As in, incredibly exploitative and homophobic and with an egregious case of BYG (and the first where I’d say it’s incontestable to claim the trope was used. s1 and s2 are muddy territory given the circumstances, IMO, but this one is 300% BYG), but so successfully manipulative my heart hurt for Corbett and Corbett x Ed still. Fuck them for that ngl. I do still enjoy how anti-Winchesters they all are though xD

-3x01 introduces the one nice marriage of hunters so far, between a black couple. The man dies in a gross, horrifying way within the episode ofc (because he was Mean to the the brothers duh). She makes it out alive, and since she doesn’t reappear in the show she gets to live. So for now black women have a sliiiiiightly better track record in SPN than track guys there: they get to appear in a few more episodes and be more fleshed out (Victor, Gordon), but as long as they’re only in one episode they get to live!! (Cassie, Tamara).

-Rufus and Bobby are exes, right? Right?? Probably still married in some state? You know that post about how when gay marriage was legalized across the USA there were a lot of issues because some couples had split and never bothered to divorce, since it was only legal in one place? That post was made for them. Pity Rufus is a black man, and as such has a limited number of allowed appearances before he’s killed off ¬¬

-I would’ve enjoyed Dean’s moments with Lisa and Ben more (it’s just so RIGHT that in this moment he’d want Ben to be his) if my knowledge of future spoilers didn’t perpetually have me in a state of “pls keep this guy away from kids” lol.

-They had Harmony’s actress (BTVS) and they made her a vampire!! The show’s hard on for the Buffyverse is a bit of a hit and miss but I can’t say I don’t relate xDD.

-I know Jensen Ackles can sing (in fact thanks to youtube I know a few of the actors can... is there a musical episode. Does this show have its own OMWF. I need to know). So why. WHY. Does he sound like that during “Dead or Alive”??? I actually like the scene but he sounds so off-key lmao.

-BTW, I found out that apparently Katie Cassidy and Lauren Cohan originally auditioned for each other’s roles añslkdfjasf. I can’t picture it. Ruby 1.0 is Ruby 1.0 and Bela is Bela xD. Although I’ve seen each playing roles that could meld with the other, just. Nope. Good choice on the casting there lol.

[phoebehalliwell]

Piper/Kyle, except it's an AU where Kyle's parents were never killed by demons, so he lived a perfectly normal, happy childhood and grew up to follow their footsteps into teaching and Kyle's a normal, maybe even a little boring archaeology professor who secretly dreams of having his very own Indiana Jones moment - up until the day he opens some dusty old chest and unleashes a demon that tries to kill him, and he barely gets away only to run into this petite brunette woman who proceeds to blow the demon the fuck up, and Kyle's never believed in love at first sight before, but he's pretty sure he can make an exception for Piper

wait omg mentally stable kyle au okay wait i gotta wrap my head around this kyle but not absofuckinlutely insane whatta picture omg. okay. i feel like he’s still gotta have this belief in the supernatural i feel like that’s a large part of the charm in literally any kyle dynamic with the sisters is Witch Who Gets It and Man Who’s Only Got Raw Data. there’s an appeal to that. seeing things from different angles all that. so we can say kyle ever good at puzzles has taken his parents notes and everything he knows and various texts and kinda pieced together okay magic does exist. but in this au he’s a professor and not an fbi agent so he can’t just walk around saying Magic Is Real because um he needs this job. also he’s never seen it. but like. the data does not like. like. like it’s real man like are you kidding me. and we’ll say he has one normal friend because he’s normal in this au and he’s like okay here me out tho magic is real and his friend is like ......okay. because like. it could be, i guess? i’m not gonna fight you on this. and kyle also definitely read a lot as a kid he reads a lot now and he’s always kinda like. like you know wondered what it might be like to be a man of action not someone stuck behind a desk all day seeing the world through books. so when he starts to see markers of the gathering storm,,, well. these are the times that make a man. he can either be a pussy about it and keep living his life through paper and ink, or he can follow his intuition. blah blah blah this leads him to get kidnapped by pirates which like. excuse me??? and kyle’s kinda kicking himself because he Wanted to be like a character in an adventure book and well like bada bing bada boom you get what you ask for. which. all due respect on his part. is smart enough to outwit them and escape. he might have dropped his wallet there tho. but when he goes back the same route wandering through the thick fog, all he finds is a solid wall of rock. so i guess he’s fucked in that regard. whoops. but!! magic is real. so that’s a dub. digs a little bit more into the blackjack cutting lore, maybe finds the x marks the spot on where their main hideout was, road trip to. seattle? i guess? port city that isn’t san francisco but is more reasonable to drive to that like. nola or boston. and lo and behold he finds it and find their documentation of the gathering storm accidentally trips a booby trap and jesus fucking christ pirate skeletons with sword which - respectfully - kyle is holding his own for the most part, not getting immediately worried, but there’s no way that would have lasted had the three skeletons not been blown to pieces. and he looks over and sees three brunettes and the one in the center is like who the hell are you? to which kyle really feels like He should be the one asking that question but after stammering out some kind of response about how he’s a professor and he was just looking for some soil samples something generic archaeological because hey. he doesn’t trust these women. he doesn’t know what side they’re on. and he’s not just gonna sacrifice the information he has on the gathering storm. and it’s obvious they don’t believe him, but they don’t kill him either. instead, the one in the center just says be more careful where you leave your stuff and tosses his wallet back to him.

and later at the manor paige is like we just let him go?? and phoebe’s like yeah how to we know he’s not a demon? he wouldn’t be the first to pose as a mortal in the mortal world (because phoebe went to the university to return kyle’s wallet because like it has is ID in it employee id all that under the guise of like. giving a lecture to some of the student’s there as the bay’s leading advice columnist oh hey is there a kyle brody here yeah haha he’s a friend of a friend anyone seen him no he’s on vacation right now? left real abruptly? and then immediately went into his office and touched every surface trying to get a premonition (au in which phoebe didn’t get her powers stripped) and concluded that he’s just Some Guy. like he like has friends and a nine to five and an apartment. so a guy). but piper’s like we don’t know. but we also don’t know what he’s up to or what his connection to the pirates was, which is why i cast a tracking spell on the wallet. and both phoebe and paige approve and in this au again phoebe didn’t get her powers stripped so in styx feet under it’s her and paige on mission and as paige is the one who cast the protection spell and as paige is also very stubborn and also refuses to let innocents die she is the one who gets to become death. she also has a very compelling relationship with death because like. she watched her parents die. and she’s prue’s replacement. the replacement for the dead girl. also fun paige/prue parallel! meanwhile right Should state in any piper/kyle au we just extend pleo’s divorce era by having him remain an elder and keeping that early s6 vibe. so piper’s definitely like a bit more neurotic than normal because you know things haven’t gone great for her and those pirates were warning about the gathering storm and honestly that better not be something that’s gonna hurt her boys because she really could not bear to lose another family member so she’s doing some digging which begins to imply that kyle knows more that he let on so where is he now? the university? great.

and kyle’s you know minding his own business in his office when the same woman practically kicks down his door and is like alright i’m gonna ask again who the hell are you and this time you better answer me honestly. to which: wow. like wow. she’s. she’s a force to be reckoned with and also kinda immediately gains points in kyle’s book for like a) kinda confronting him about knowing more because he’s pretty good at covering his tracks all that so if he’s been Found Out it’s by someone good and b) she also disintegrated evil pirate skeletons so like. 👍. But. he does not trust her for shit. no. absolutely not. he has no reason to. but piper’s not yielding blasts a hole in the wall near his head like quickly now or next time i won’t miss but kyle’s so fuckin stubborn he’s like 🤐 and piper’s. i mean, she can’t kill an innocent. she doesn’t know if that’s who he is, but she can’t run that risk. and kyle’s not saying shit, so she leaves.

then it’s the guardian angel episode where the charmed ones are there on instruction (though they don’t know what they’re looking for. maybe they were just scrying for information) and kyle’s there on a hunch and piper and kyle see each other and it’s um. mac charlie see each other from across the room reaction image. both like. what the fuck are you doing here? and in this one paige is still the one to get her guardian angel stolen and piper’s immediately on high alert because you know big sister/mom mode activated. but they don’t know what they’re looking for and kyle’s like it’s her guardian angel. and piper once again snaps to him firey look in her eyes but kyle’s really just trying to place nice here so he’s like guardian angels. they’ve been going missing being stolen whatever. he’s got the research on it. and piper doesn’t want to trust him but paige is really in grave danger. so, as the sister with the offensive power, she’s going with kyle, and phoebe has to make sure paige doesn’t like. pull a grams. (which for the record i do not accept prewitched as canon but like the elders definitely killed grams <3)

so blah blah blah piper’s now and kyle’s place which is ten times worse than his office because this is where he does his real work and he’s got all the guardian angel shit up and out and is explaining it to piper and it’s making sense but what catches her eye is something on the gathering storm that kyle left out now they’re talking about that they’re starting to realize they’re on the same side. blah blah blah save paige. next episodes what werewolf episode. skip. then!! idk paige still runs magic school right so she’s in the library and she calls piper and she’s like hey remember when you told me to keep an eye out on the gathering storm? and piper’s like yes yeah what is it? and she’s like well we’re inventorying the library and we have books on them and piper’s like that’s good news ! ? and paige is like yeah but we’re missing one. book five. in this something something series. and piper knows Exactly where that book is because she fucking saw it on kyle’s kitchen counter. so now she’s barging into kyle’s place which is getting to be a common occurrence at this point and kyle kinda wants to complain but this is by far the most interesting his life’s been ever and honestly? he’d be kinda bummed if piper stopped kicking down his door. wait actually scratch that you want my book no fuck you changed my mind. to which piper’s like look we’re looking for the same goal here right so give me the book because i have the rest of the series and this could be the missing puzzle piece and kyle’s like okay fine i’ve read the book cover to cover give me the rest of the series and i’ll get you your answers and piper’s like okay let’s get things straight here i’m the witch you’re some two bit archeology professor so when it comes to the handling of sacred magical tomes i’ll be taking the reigns here and kyle’s like fine then you won’t be taking the book. and piper’s like wanna bet and the next think kyle knows he’s hearing the door slam his book’s gone and he’s hearing tires peel out onto the street and he has no idea how she did it. 

back at the manor piper’s got her reading glasses on an volume one open and god this fucking sucks. so she makes phoebe take a stab at it and she hates reading it too. paige also starts it and is like respectfully no. piper’s the only one who did the reading in high school. this is her turf. but my god she cannot make it through all eight of these fucking books. So. she calls kyle. he has to come to the manor because there’s no way she’s giving him the books and there’s no way she’s letting him in magic school so. hi. welcome to the house. but!! by a contrived plot device!!!! a gnome has been shot in magic school this book was the only thing at the scene and paige wants to investigate further but she can’t just leave it out there so she brings it back to the manor she’s gonna cast some spell to find out if there are already spells on the book how to reverse it she just needs to find the spell first and like. there’s no way in hell paige ever wears an outfit with big enough pockets to keep the book on her. so she leaves it on the table. to which kyle asks how this is relevant to the collection. to which piper says don’t open that!! whoops. see, this is why i said we don’t let two bit archeology professors near magical books! piper/kyle charmed noir..............

[choruscas]

suptober day 16: switch it up!

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

-

During every single hunt, whether it was tulpas in Topeka, or shapeshifters in Sacramento, Dean had always tried to team up with Castiel.

Why?

Well, it was a long and complicated story. But to sum it down, Dean probably had the biggest crush on the damn angel and his feelings haven’t gone away.

Pray the gay away? Nah man. It was pray to the gay. Be bi or die.

In all honesty, Dean was very open about his bisexuality. After it sort of slipped out to Sam and his younger brother had no reaction (and it may or may not have been that his deadbeat dad was gone) and so he didn’t care who knew.

He could stand on a stage, wearing a bi flag on his back, having his dick out for any men or women who wanted a taste, and he wouldn’t give a flipping fuck.

However, he hasn’t had sex in two years. Why? Oh yeah, cause of the crush. Heads over heals crush that no man or woman could take away. He had tried to pretend the kisses and love were the angel, but none if it worked. It wasn’t what he imagined of, dreamed of.

If a djinn got his hands on him again, then who the fuck knows if Dean would stay or not. At least the djinn would give Dean what he wanted.

Often times he got angry at Castiel for not doing anything. But he couldn’t blame him.

Dean would never tell anybody this, but there was often times he cried himself to sleep because of how unfair life was in general. How unfair it was that Dean could never just get what he wanted, what he always craved.

At that moment, he was ticked. Just sitting there as Sam and Castiel rambled on about the hunt that he wasn’t paying attention to. However, that ass sitting on that chair though.

Jesus Christ.

“What about you, Dean?” Sam asked, his arms folded, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah. I mean, this rugaru seems pretty badass.”

“We’re hunting an Ōkami, Dean.” Sam pealed his attention away from Jack, who was bouncing on the bed sitting down.

“That’s what I said.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something but Dean got up from the motel’s table and slammed the chair against the edge of it.

Castiel looked up at him fearfully, as he knew Dean’s angry face. “D—“

“I need a drink. I’ll be back.” Dean snapped and left the motel, almost slamming the door.

God he was so fucking angry. Sam that day had been a little bitch boy and Jack was annoying and Castiel was oblivious to Dean’s obvious flirting and nothing was going his way.

Baby’s engine has sputtered and barely came to life, so he had to fix that before they went back to Kansas. So they were probably all stuck in deadbeat Wyoming for a few extra days.

He had stepped in a puddle and ruined his favorite pair of socks. They had good grip and were fairly new, but the muddy water from the puddle made them unwearable for the time being.

The stupid hunt wasn’t going anywhere. They were lost on just one hint on where the octopus or oak tree, or whatever the fuck it was called was.

He just needed to beat the shut out of something. Or someone. Anything.

He walked a little while away from the motel and found a junkyard that he noticed they had passed by when he was driving yesterday. There were tens or hundreds of old cars that nobody was using anymore. Perfect.

He found a bent crowbar and just as he was about to smash an old, rusted ‘69 Camarillo, a vibration and ringing sound went off in his pocket.

Fuck you, Sam.

“Hello?” Dean sighed, showing irritation in his voice more than he should’ve.

“Hey, so Cas and Jack are going downtown and I’m doing more research.”

“Wait— why did Jack and Cas go?

“I dunno. You weren’t there, so...”

“Yeah but— you know... my rule.”

The rule was a little complicated. Dean paired up with Castiel because ‘one angel and one human are better than two humans and two angels because the angel can protect the human on one team and the same for the second team.’

Which was bullshit. Dean just wanted to see his ass in tight pants and hear his whiskey and leather-like voice interrogate people.

Okay, it’s probably annoying that Dean keeps thinking about his ass. But it was a pretty nice ass. Can’t blame him.

“Alright. Well, sorry.”

“I always go with Cas.”

“I know. I guess I just thought of switching it up this hunt.”

“But you’re ugly as hell.”

“And Cas isn’t?”

Dean could hear his stupid shit-eating grin behind the fucking phone.

Instead of answering to his dumbass comment, Dean had hung up.

In all honesty, the day just wasn’t going his way.

Walking back to the motel, seeing his Baby from a distance, he quickened his pace to grab some things from the trunk.

But as he was walking, a piece of thread on his plaid jacket caught in a nail inside of a telephone pole. Not realizing it to start with, he continued walking, his hands in his pockets, squinting at the sun like he wanted to explode it.

He turned a corner and his plaid jacket had ripped with a loud sound. Beneath his right armpit, there was a giant hole revealing his undershirt.

Great.

He opened the motel door and quickly shut it as fast, then bee-lined straight to his suitcase and shrugged off his plaid shirt.

“Dean, you alright.”

“Hell no!” he barked, probably an octave higher than he normally spoke.

Sam, sitting down with his books and laptop, stood up to walk over to Dean. He didn’t treat him like some rabid animal, but normally.

“You know you can talk about it. I know about your feelings your C—“

“DON’T... finish that.”

“Dean. Please,” he continued. “It’s really hard to love somebody when you don’t think they love you back. But Cas really does. I know he does.”

“How do you know Sam!? Come on. It’s not like you’re an astrologist with some fuckin’ tarot cards or something.” Dean pathetically threw his hands up in the air, causing a loud smacking sound when he put them back down.

“Because he told me he does.”

Hold on.

What?

“You’re kidding.” Dean laughed.

“Dean, I’ve been in between this feud with you and Cas for about twelve years now. Do you really think Cas hasn’t told me? He told me post-purgatory. That’s when you don’t me too.” Sam paused, taking in a breath. “He said he’s so madly in love with you that it hurts, Dean. Hurts.”

It was like all of the sudden the world stopped. Dean’s heart rattled in his ribs and it felt as if vines were growing all around, permeating his lungs in such a way that he couldn’t breathe.

Cas loved him.

Later, Dean finally saw that ass in action.

And he loved him too. They both did.

(tags below)

@potato-painter @samhainsam

[stunt-lads]

Sex on a counter/table/desk. But make it a pool table and mmmmmm trashstack? 👀

“Jesus Ben, how much money do you have?” 

Ben laughs but Richie is genuinely in awe. He’s been traveling since they reconnected, not the level Mike’s been doing it (Mike flew out to fucking Bill’s house, there’s no way Richie’s gonna do that...yet) but he’s been driving to the nearest Loser he can. He’s already overstayed his welcome with Stan and Patty (not really but Richie knows Stan’s patience is finite.) And Eddie’s been dealing with his own nonsense (his divorce has been hell and Richie’s a nuisance but not an asshole.) And, well, maybe Richie’s been playing favorites. Maybe he’s been visiting the Losers he’s attracted to so he can get the stupid feelings out of his system. 

Sue him.

Except not really because he’s well off but not that well off. 

And not as well off as Ben either apparently. 

“It’s just a basement Richie.”

“Benjamin. Don’t be modest.” He lets his eyes linger on Ben’s ass when he walks by before snapping them up to look around again, “You have a fucking theater in your basement.”

It’s not a home theater like Richie’s seen in pictures from his movie star friends, but there’s a surround sound system and a flatscreen set deep into the wall with a counter on one wall with snacks and a microwave and a couch big enough to fit all the losers and then some. 

“And a pool table.” Richie’s mind does a record scratch when Ben slides open a door that he hadn’t even seen, the basement nearly doubling in size. There’s not only a pool table, but there’s a bar and a couch and Richie immediately thinks of some fun activities he could get up to in a setup like this. 

He licks his lips and swallows to himself as he follows Ben into the second part of his basement. 

“Want a drink?” Ben offers and Richie accepts eagerly. He’ll take any reason to not be sober when he’s around people he’s attracted to. 

He wonders, leaning against the pool table and watching as Ben pours them both some cognac (the absolute bastard of course it’s cognac), if Ben would be down to fuck. He chokes on his own spit at the thought and clears his throat when Ben looks up at him curiously. 

“You ever play?” Richie asks, choosing not to comment on his own thoughts. 

“No one to play with.” Ben says, shrugging and gently handing Richie his drink. 

“Shit Haystack, let’s play!” Richie barely, barely, refrains from downing his whole drink in one, but he’s not that stupid, this shit’s expensive and he’s gonna savor it. 

Ben laughs, sipping from his own glass, “Yeah, alright, let’s do it!”

Richie didn’t think it through, not really. Because yes, he wanted to play pool with Ben because it’s fun. It’s a fun game. But he did not take into account that he, Richie Tozier, is a horny bastard. 

More than once he caught himself staring at the way Ben would lean over the table, imagining how easy it would be to just slide his hands up Ben’s sides and bury his dick in his ass. 

Richie is grateful for the crack of the cue ball hitting the others when it happens because it draws him from his thoughts. 

He isn’t sure how it happens, just that he’s taking his turn and Ben’s gone real quiet, so he looks over and Ben is staring at him the way he’s been staring all fucking night and oh boy, does that make him feel hot. 

Richie can work with this. He stands up, putting on a bit of a show and stretching his back as he does so, walking around to the other side to continue his turn. 

“So,” He hopes he sounds casual, “You been seein’ anyone?” 

His face heats in embarrassment and Richie revels in it. 

“Just,” He clears his throat, downing the last of his drink before he answers, “Just Bev sometimes.” 

“‘Sometimes’? What does ‘sometimes’ mean Benny boy?” 

“She’ll come over and we’ll...y’know, and then she goes home again.” 

“So is it like, an open relationship or friends with benefits?” 

“Why’s it matter?” 

“It doesn’t, I’m just curious.” The game is forgotten, Richie doesn’t care about it because all he hears right now is that Ben is available to fuck. 

“Yeah, well, what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Are you, y’know.” 

“Ben, we’re both adults here, you can ask me if I’m having sex on the reg.” Richie is delighted by the way Ben’s face turns red and he barely stops himself from marching over to the bar, he laughs a little before pretending to be interested in the game again, “But, no. Haven’t really been interested in anyone lately, and I’ve never been one to do the whole ‘romance’ thing.” 

“I’ve been told I’m ‘too much’.” He punctuates the sentence with his turn, letting the crack of the balls make sound so he doesn’t have to deal with how badly that phrase has always hurt him. 

He doesn’t miss the way Ben’s face looks sad for a moment as he comes back around to stand next to him, and he wonders if he should play the sympathy card to get some sex. But, nah, if it were Stan or Bill, yea sure, but Ben is too nice for that. 

“Anyway, what I’m hearing is you’re available,” Richie says, downing the rest of his drink, “You wanna fuck?” 

Ben’s eyes widen to near comical proportions and Richie laughs. He can’t help it, it’s just so funny to see Ben so embarrassed. 

“I—I’m straight?” 

“Ben, sweetie,” Richie says it slowly, like he’s trying to explain to a child, “straight men don’t stare at their male friends asses when they bend over a pool table.” 

He sees the hesitation and he smiles, a little more forced than before, he can play this off, even if he did want Ben’s dick so far in him he tastes it, or his dick so deep in Ben he’ll feel it for days after. He opens his mouth to joke it off, tell him he’s just kidding, but Ben speaks first. 

“No. I mean, I’ve only ever slept with women. I don’t—I wouldn’t know what to do.” 

Oh. Oh. Yeah, Richie can definitely work with this. 

“Lucky for you I know exactly what I’m doing.” He digs in his pocket, pulling out a small travel sized bottle of lube and Ben scoffs. Richie looks up, suddenly apprehensive but then he sees the fond smile on Ben’s face and he grins to match it. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you planned this Tozier.” 

“It never hurts to be prepared Benny boy.” 

“Where...where are we gonna—?”

“Right here.” Richie says cheerfully as he hops up on the edge of the pool table. He tugs Ben close by his shirt collar and grins like a shark, “First, I need to know if kissing is okay, sometimes people don’t like it for hookups. Bill’s not a real fan of it but Bill’s not a fan of much anything if it’s not Mike’s dick—”

“Richie.”

“Right! Sorry! Second, have you ever done anal with a girl?” 

“First,” Ben whispers, his voice low, and this feels wayy more intimate suddenly, “Kissing is nice and I don’t mind it. Second, no. I’ve only ever done uh, y’know...”

“P in V, got it.” Richie laughs, why does he sound so breathless? It’s just Ben for Christ’s sake.

“I was gonna say missionary.” Ben mumbles and Richie wants to laugh, to tease him about it, but then Ben’s kissing him and wow, Ben is absolutely the best kisser of all of the Losers. Richie thinks even Bill would be down to kiss Ben. He feels his cock get hard in his pants, pressing eagerly against the zipper. He’d be embarrassed by how easy he is but he can’t because Ben’s sliding closer as he deepens the kiss and Richie can feel his cock hardening too. 

Maybe they’re both a little touch starved. 

Richie eases Ben back, breaking the kiss even though he doesn’t want to. He wants to kiss him again when he hears the soft broken sound that comes from Ben’s throat. 

“Fuck Ben, we haven’t even started yet.” Richie teases gently, he pulls his jeans down, hissing softly as the fabric rubs against the sensitive head of his dick. 

“Richie,” He thinks Ben wants to sound incredulous, like he can’t believe Richie went fucking commando, but all it sounds like is desperation. 

“Hold your horses, I gotta—” There’s no lead up before he’s sliding two lube covered fingers into his body. He doesn’t usually like bottoming, strangers are always too rough and messy, but with his friends? Sure. Besides, Ben wouldn’t be ready for a dick right away anyways. This is easier. 

He’s careful as he prepares himself and he gets a little lost in it, head tipping back and moans escaping occasionally. He’s snapped back to the present when Ben presses a kiss to his throat, open mouthed and full of teeth. Richie lets out a whine he would deny ever came from him as Ben slides him down on his back. The edge of the pool table digs into the small of his back and he’s pretty sure he’ll feel it later, assuming he doesn’t see it in the bruises this will likely leave on his body. 

He doesn’t realize Ben’s sliding his hand away from his ass until his hand is replacing his fingers and oh his fingers can go deeper. Richie keens, arching his back as Ben’s fingers scissor him open. 

“For never having done this before,” Richie pants out, toes curling as Ben brushes a knuckle past his prostate, “You s-sure know what you’re doing.”

“I’ve fingered girls to get them ready before Richie. Can’t be much different than that.” Richie wants to snark back but then if he does that he might not get a dick in him and he kinda needs that now or he feels like he’ll die. 

“Oh good. Wouldn’t want those ladies to ever have to be torn in half by your, assumedly, massive dick.” 

“I wouldn’t say massive but it’s not small if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ben, fucking, just—!” Richie’s getting impatient, there’s four fingers in him now and Ben keeps accidentally, brushing his prostate, like he’s avoiding it on purpose. 

“Bossy.” Ben huffs in the kiss Richie initiates, but then his fingers are being removed and Richie feels so empty he could cry, “Do you have a con—”

“Don’t need one, I like to be filled, hurry up.” Richie whines and Ben laughs at him, “You’re laughing. I’m dying without a dick in me and you’re fucking laughing, how could you Ben.” 

But then Ben’s sliding into him and Richie forgets how to breathe. Which he’s only aware of because of the way Ben reminds him to. And then he gasps, panting softly into the air of the basement that Richie was making fun of Ben for not even an hour ago. 

“B-Ben I—”

“I know,” He doesn’t even sound smug which makes the whole thing worse somehow. He moves his legs shakily, sliding them around Ben’s waist and locking him in. 

“Lets go big guy,” He hopes he sounds demanding but judging by the expression Ben makes he just sounds whiny, “Fuck me up.” 

Fucking on a pool table is an experience. It’s too heavy to move across the floor with the thrusts Ben makes into him, but damn if he isn’t trying, each thrust so deep Richie’s sure at any moment he’s gonna taste his dick all the way up in his mouth. Plus the creaking of the wood is a little scary, but the way the pool balls end up rolling into the pockets makes them laugh a little. 

Overall it’s not a bad experience, just different. 

And then Ben does it. He gets this grin on his face as he leans back to stand up straight, pulling Richie to him, making him hiss softly in pain as the felt of the table rubs up his back, bunching up his shirt and it’s not comfortable but he forgets it all as Ben shifts just enough to slide hard against his prostate with every thrust into him. He cries out so loud that he’s sure people in the neighboring states can hear him. His eyes cross and every exhale has him whimpering and whining, clawing at the felt on the table under him. 

His whines become louder as Ben reaches between them, grabbing his cock confidently, “C’mon Richie, come for me.” He whispers it and it’s so filthy, so unlike Ben that Richie can’t fucking help it, he comes hard, painting his own stomach and Ben’s hand with his come, his vision is still blurry and doubled even as he tenses and shakes while Ben continues, groaning softly as he comes shortly after. He leans down and presses a kiss to the side of Richie’s face. 

“Feel better?” Ben whispers and Richie nods. He smiles like an idiot. There’s a soft throat clearing and Ben’s eyes glance up towards the doorway. Richie tilts his head back and sees Bev and Eddie there, both looking bored. 

“Couldn’t wait?” Bev asks, sipping at her Starbucks.

“He’s needy.” Ben shrugs, and Richie hates him for being so nonchalant about it when he feels like he’s boneless on this table. 

Bev sighs and rolls her eyes. “The others are gonna be here soon, hurry it up. Patty doesn’t need to know we’re all fucking sex fiends.” 

“Richie more than any of us.” Eddie comments idly, averting his eyes as Richie moans, toes curling and back arching just for effect as Ben pulls out, laughing. He can play that game. 

“Fu-uhh-ck off.” Richie draws it out, trying to keep the appearance up but he really is fucked out now. 

“Can’t believe you let him top.” Bev says, walking past them to get to the bar, “He’s insufferable when he tops, thinks he’s so cool.” 

It takes a moment for Richie’s brain to catch up. “What?”  “...Oh my god, Ben, did you lie to this poor man?” Ben has the audacity to laugh. 

“He’s been staring at my ass since we came down into the basement, I figured if I was the one who had to initiate it and be obvious then I could top.” 

“My ass hurts and I’m leaking come and you’re telling me I could have fucked you?” Richie finally asks as he sits up on his elbows.

“Maybe next time you’ll be more obvious.” Ben says calmly, pointedly looking at the theater area where Eddie is actively trying not to listen as he gets snacks ready. 

“...That’s different fuck off.” Bev and Ben laugh at him and he smiles, “You’re all such Losers.” He mumbles as he tries to get dressed. Maybe he’ll talk to Eddie about it. Maybe next time they can all get together or maybe Eddie will wanna just hold hands. He thinks he could do that, for Eddie. 

[pixieungerstories]

The Captive - 11

George wasn’t used to being surrounded by humans who were smart.  No, that was unkind.  He wasn’t used to humans who were knowledgeable.  He didn’t have any trouble guessing what the augur was doing or what it was they were looking for.  There were a lot of stories about dragon blood having life giving properties.  George sighed, being careful not to steam his tunnel any more than he had to.

The stories were all false, of course.  Or maybe not.  He took care of his treasures and for hundreds of years they had all lived significantly longer than was usual.  He could see how the uneducated could reach that understanding.  This new one, though.  She was not uneducated.  He would need some time to get to know her.

All the more reason he should be keeping her close.  He would have to decide what to do about the boy.  The lad wasn’t one of George’s treasures, but he was starting to feel like it.

That night, after Ben left, George followed Elly upstairs to her apartment.  She glared at him for a moment, but didn’t actually tell him no.  This was progress.

“Do you care for the - for Ben?”

She hesitated on her way to the kitchen.  “Yeah, I mean I guess.”

“Do you desire him?”

“Whoa!  That’s inappropriate.  Ben works for me!  Well, at least with me.  Um, dating would be messy when we broke up and he was still in my space everyday.”

George hummed for a moment, thinking that over.  “You didn’t actually answer the question, treasure.”

Elly turned and snarled at him.  “It doesn’t matter!  Whether I feel nothing or I spend six hours a day with a vibrator between my legs, it doesn’t matter.  I’m going to live here the rest of my life and die another old maid sacrificed to you.”

George stared at her in shock.  Elly felt the anger drain away.  “I’m -” she started to apologize.

“What’s a vibrator?” George asked, curious.

“You have got to be kidding me!”

George tilted his head slightly, eyes still watching her.

“Really?”

“I honestly don’t understand, Elly.  There are many things I don’t want to tell you that I have nonetheless explained so that you can understand.”

Elly muttered to herself. George watched as she gave herself a pep talk under her breath.  “A vibrator is a machine designed to give sexual pleasure.  Usually for women, but sex toys have equal opportunity designers these days.”

“Huh.  Does it hum?  I couldn’t figure out where the humming was coming from up here but -”

“Can we stop talking about this?  Please!”

George shrugged.  “I don’t think Ina had -” he looked at Elly’s face and stopped.  “This is really very uncomfortable for you, isn’t it?”

Groaning Elly, flopped onto one of the sofas.  Then snorted as she realized it was a conveniently placed fainting couch.  “I’m not a virgin.  I had been dating a guy for three years when Ina died. I like sex.  He was good at sex.  He didn’t want to marry me and now I have here.  Discussing my lack of sex life with a dragon.  How is that my life?”

George was frowning at her.  “I am condemned to live out my days hiding in a basement.  How is that my life?”  

Elly stopped to stare at him again.  “I didn’t ever ... But dragons … I don’t know a tactful way to say this but we are way past that now.  What’s your sex life like, George?”

“Nonexistent.  The idea behind this arrangement was that the women I was sent would keep me company.  Ina was content to lock me in the basement.  You are having sex with a machine and have Ben as a back up -”

“Hey!  I didn’t say -”

“And I am facing another fifty years alone hoping that the next one of you who turns up will be able to spend more than a few hours with me before she has to leave.”

“Wait.  You are being hunted by an augur.  How did we end up talking about our lack of sex lives?”

George sat back on his hind legs, and watched her for a while.  “Because I desire you.  And I don’t hate Ben.  It would be safer for him to stay here, but I’m not happy dividing your attention even further.  I am trying not to be completely selfish here, but I am not happy being celibate.  Except that if you desire him, then I don’t have a chance to win your affection.”

“Jesus Christ, you are serious!”

George narrowed his eyes and growled, “Yes.”

“How would that even work?”

Now he smirked, “Would you like me to demonstrate?  I too am very good at sex.”

Elly narrowed her eyes and glared at him.  “Lizard sex is very different from mammal sex.”

George was still watching her.  “I’m not a lizard, and I can do things with my tongue,” he said, flicking it at her.  He was pleased when that made her blush.  “You have nothing to fear from me, treasure.  I am not going to do anything to hurt you.  I learned better than that a thousand years ago.”

----

Elly was dreaming about Jeremey.  He had her knees up to her chest and was thrusting hard and deep in the way that was going to make her legs start shaking at any moment.

Then the pressure on her chest started to purr and she woke up to realize it was the cat.

“Fuck.”  Elly moved the cat off the bed and leaned over to open the drawer on her night stand.  She froze as she remembered George could hear her.  The kitten jumped up on the nightstand to strop against her outstretched hand.  Elly flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

She could feel the presence in the room.

Then something George had said came back to her.  She jumped out of bed and stormed down the stairs, kitten trailing after her.  She threw open the door to the cellar and shouted, “What do you mean he would be safer here?”

She could see George’s eyes glowing faintly in the dark.  She would have turned back but the kitten half ran, half tumbled down the stairs.

“You smell delicious, Elly.”

“Just answer the question, damn it!”

George yawned, and lit the tiny lamp on the table.  “If someone is trying to get to me, the only people close enough to me are you and the boy.  Easiest way to me, is through you.”

“Oh.”

“Off to play with your toys now?  It’s a shame, I am certainly better at post coital cuddles that a machine.”

“George?  It feels like there is someone watching me when I’m alone in my apartment.”

“Don’t worry about that.  This house may not be old, but the property is.  It has more than a few ghosts.  None of them are malicious, merely curious.”

Elly stared into the basement at the dragon who was watching her.  She didn’t believe in ghosts, but most people didn’t believe in dragons so she had to admit there was a chance she could be wrong.

Nyx had climbed onto George’s shoulder and was purring madly.  It was hard to look at that and see him as threatening.

“Tell me about the women who lived here before Ina.”

“Come downstairs and listen.”

Elly curled up in the leather armchair and listened as George told her about his first love, Silene. 

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH07

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

WC: 4405

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean floors the Impala, somehow wishing that he had let Cas taken another car, a fucking fast SUV for example, but he’s stuck with his Baby now. He swears loudly at all the other cars on the highway, why are there so many cars at this time anyway? And why are they all in his fucking way?

    *

The lights are out at the front of the Roadhouse but when Dean parks his car, he sees a flicker of light on the inside. Glancing back through the lot, he could spot her car, his heart is still racing. 

Technically, she could be here. He fucking hopes she is.

He hurries out of his car and goes straight for the door. He can be glad that it’s unlocked when he bursts right in; wouldn’t actually have cared if it was locked at all because he was ready to kick that damn door down.

Dean exhales the breath he feels like he’s been holding since he embarked on the drive out here. Was worried sick of where she was, hoped that she didn’t go somewhere with Crowley, fucking prayed that Lucifer didn’t get to her. He doesn’t even know if Lucifer knows about her, wouldn’t surprise him if Lucifer did, because that dude is always ahead of him, and Dean still hasn’t figured out the rat in his own goddamn organization.

Y/N’s here. Had been here probably for a while already by the looks of it. 

She’s standing behind the bar and knocks back the remains of a drink from a tumbler upon seeing him. The bottle next to her looks awfully familiar to his brand of whiskey. The very Glengoyne 30 years single malt whiskey that costs about $700 a bottle, and she just knocks it back like it’s some fucking dollar store liquor. 

Dean chuckles to himself at that, knowing that he would be fucking mad if it was someone else but right about now, the joy of seeing her unharmed and well — and a bit drunk, as she knocks back shots after shots of expensive booze — is a sight for his sore fucking eyes.

“There you are,” He breathes out and there’s a shy smile from the chuckle that tugs away at the corner of his lips. 

He can’t lie, he’s relieved but also he desperately tries to will his heart to fucking calm itself down — the drumming in his ear is getting annoying — which is irony on its own, he reckons, because his heart can never still down when he’s around her.

Y/N makes a snorting sound as she refills her drink, “Well, here I fucking am, aren’t I?” 

Dean eyes widens at the remark and he blinks. She’s feisty, how could he forget.

“How did you get here?”

“Took an Uber,” She shrugs and puts her hand that’s holding the glass up, takes an aim at him and Dean ducks in time to hear it smash against the door behind him, droplets of liquid spill onto his head.

“What the fuck was that for?” Dean snarls in bewilderment, wonders if she did miss him deliberately because he actually thinks that if she really wanted to, she could have hit him square in the face with it, and maybe, it's even what he would deserve.

She takes another glass and pours herself a shot while she chuckles, “Oopsie, it slipped. My bad,” She shrugs and grins darkly before she knocks back another mouthful of drink and then she swallows and pauses to think, placing her index finger to her temple to emphasize it before she speaks, “You invited me to a party, Dean. And, and, and— and then, you left me alone!”

Y/N takes the glass and holds it up, aims it at Dean. He has no problem ducking one more time. Her movements are slowed under the influence but again, he thinks that she doesn’t really want to hit him.

“Hey!” He shouts, taking a step closer. “What happened?” 

He knows that she’s right. He did leave her alone and he’s still fucking sorry, but there must have been something else going on because it can’t be that she’s so upset about him not being by her side for the evening. It can’t be. He refuses to believe it. She had Sam and Jess, and even Cas as company, which, he knows, was still a dick move of him but there was business to be talked through and he hates it as much as she probably did. 

Nonetheless, yeah, he should have been straight with her about the evening. But what could he have told her? 

Sorry, I will be mainly talking business with my illegal business partners because we’re a bunch of gangsters? 

I really want you there but you gotta let me go and take care and discuss about how I gonna fucking move 20 tonnes of narcotics and illegal firearms across country? 

Because that would have gone down fucking great, wouldn’t it?

“What happened? Oh, nothing,” She drinks straight from the bottle now and brushes away the alcohol from her upper lip with the back of her hand, smearing the little lipstick that’s still left on it around her mouth. It’s pink and swollen and he would love to have a taste.

Dean knows that he can’t say it loud, because she’s distraught enough as it is, but she looks fucking cute when she’s upset. Instead of saying anything, because he doesn’t want to anger her more, he sits on the stool and takes the bottle from her and rests the bottle head to his own lip to take a large swig himself. He feels the liquid burn down his throat, warming his stomach, and he squints at how good it feels. He had missed that the whole fucking night. 

“So, you wanna tell me what got you so mad, sweetheart?”

“Don’t sweetheart me,” She hisses and Dean’s trying hard not to laugh, instead he just stares at her, raising his eyebrow in question and waits for her to talk.

She rolls her eyes after a while and sighs audibly, “Oh… I don’t know, maybe just fucking people putting me down all night? And one of them wanted to get in my pants is what happened!” 

Y/N reclaims the bottle and almost drains it in one go.

“Hey, sweetheart, easy on the booze,” Dean pulls the bottle from her hands, spills a little of the brown liquid. She fucking pouts, and it distracts him but he has no time to dwell on that. Not yet. He walks around the bar to stand next to her, “Who did put you down?” 

“Oh, you know, your girlfriend,” She starts and stops when she sees Dean frowning at her, “The tall one? Long beautiful hair, kissable red lips? Tight fucking dress, long legs to die for, come on, don’t tell me you forgot how your girlfriend looks like?” 

He doesn’t answer, instead he keeps on staring, the frown lines getting deeper as he does.

Y/N looks down to her hands that are picking at something invisible on the counter, “Anyway, she said I shouldn’t try so hard because you're way out of my league anyway,” 

Dean reaches out a hand to brush at the loose strand of hair that falls around her face, tucking it back behind her ear before he leaves his hand at the base of her neck. He lowers himself a little, to be able to look her in the eye. Can’t stop staring at her quivering lips, at the pink of her cheeks. 

He smiles a little before he says something, “First of all, she’s not my girlfriend. And second of all, you actually believed her?” 

Her eyes shoot up to meet his, as if she’s challenging him, “So, your girlfriend is the other one then? The one who said that I’m nothing special?” 

Dean is taken aback and frowns some more, for good fucking measure.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. You believed them?” The pressure of Dean’s hand on her neck gets slightly harder.

“Why shouldn’t I?” She takes a step back, walks back out of his grip, “All I know is that I don’t fucking know you.”

“So? You don’t know them either!” He tries to counter but he knows deep inside that she’s right. But also, there’s the fact that he doesn’t know her either. He knows though, that he wants to fucking change that if she gave him one fucking chance.

“I just don’t get it, Dean.”

“What are you not getting into that pretty head of yours?” 

“You have two, stunningly beautiful women swarming around you, who would — and I have no doubt about that — do anything you tell them to, without fucking question. So, tell me. Tell me why did you want me around when you know that you won’t have time for me anyway?” 

He smirks, wonders a little if he reads her right. He thinks he does. 

“Sweetheart, are you jealous by any chance?” 

“No?” It comes out faster than he expects but then she looks away. He chuckles as she squints her eyes and lets out a frustrating throaty shriek to admit defeat, “Yeah, maybe? I don’t know!” Y/N folds her arms over her chest and pouts again.

That damn fucking pout!

Fucking adorable.  

Dean can’t stop grinning. Thinks that he’s not the only idiot here after all. Is relieved that she might be feeling all the things he feels, too. Kind of hopes that she does.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” He chuckles at all the cuteness and takes a step closer, grins some more when she stays rooted and doesn’t back away.

“I don’t get what?” She mumbles angrily and adds, “And I mean, if anything, I am out of your league, it’s not the other way around!” Y/N’s slurring her speech a little too, and Dean thinks it’s damn fucking adorable, wants to actually launch forward, kiss her stupid, and make her stop talking, make her feel what he really thinks of her but —

—he doesn’t. 

Not yet. 

He doesn’t want her to think he’s only interested in one thing. He’s not that shallow, at least not anymore. Even though he wants nothing more than to feel her. Feel her skin on his skin, feel her heartbeat underneath him. Wants to hear her moan his name, wants to see the pleasure in her eyes, the glow on her face, wants to hear her beg for more.

He throws his head back upon hearing what she said and laughs loudly, making her punch him in his chest and Y/N’s giggling, too, “Yeah, you are.” He agrees with the biggest of smiles. 

“And who wanted to get in your pants?” He raises an eyebrow, because that’s the real question here, hopes it’s not one of his men because he’d rather not kill one of his own. 

His heart is thumping in his chest as he watches her frown and bite down on her bottom lip. Someone clearly has an expiration date coming up. Fucking hell, Dean’s hands balls into fists at the suspense.

“The mayor,” 

Well, he can’t kill that one either, sadly, even though he fucking wants to.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Dean feels agitated. He’s not surprised by the revelation, because Crowley is known to hit on anything on heels, “How?” He can’t help but ask, even though he’d rather not know the answer to his question.

“He said he thinks that I’m very cute and he’d like to offer me a job. Asked if I wanted to go to his mansion upstate with him tonight, he’d like to show me how good a real man could make me feel.”

That sneaky little motherfucker , Dean thinks, and he feels the urge to leave, to drive back and give Crowley an earful for hitting on—

—on what ? 

His girl? She’s not even his. Dean would love to call her that one day though, there’s no denying. Can’t possibly deny that he would like to claim her, mark her as his, so that everyone fucking knows and nobody wouldn’t dare to try to mess around with what’s his .

“Wow,” Dean huffs out, takes a step back from her as a precaution because suddenly, he very much wants to punch something, or shoot someone, “Straight down to business that man, huh? And what did you say?”

He closes his eyes, kind of fears the answer, but he knows that she’s here now so she didn’t go back with that dick. Still, it upsets him very much.

“Said that I liked my job and that I have STD. He backed off right away. I could literally see him walking backwards.”

Dean snorts out a laugh. He laughs louder than normal, probably. But he doesn’t really care because he’s so fucking relieved. Y/N laughs with him. The sound of it is sweet and warm, smooth like honey, something he’d love to hear more often.

They both need some time to calm down after.

“So, can I ask you something?” He’s standing right in front of her again and waits for her to look up to him. His heart is doing somersaults and it’s a weird thing to be feeling, “How much did you eat tonight?” 

“Ugh,” She squints her eyes to think and Dean’s having a hard time not to laugh at the drunk girl in front of him, “I don’t think I did eat anything.”

“Not even the little bits and pieces that've been served tonight?”

“Nope,” Y/N shakes her head, “Too busy drinking my frustrations away,”

“Ah,” He grins, “Understandable. So, let’s go get something into your belly to soak up all of that booze you drank, shall we?” He takes her hand and pulls her along with him. He looks back to see her puzzled face, laughs because she’s wobbly on her feet, “I know the best burger place in town.” Dean winks and smiles brightly before he pushes the door open into the night.

“But, I gotta clean up the mess!” She exclaims, pulling at his hand and already wants to run to the back to probably get the broom and shovel, Dean assumes.

He let out a hearty laugh, holding her hand a little tighter not letting her go, “Y/N, let it go, take the stick out of your ass. You don’t always have to be good, alright?”

She blushes at that.

*

Dean parks his car when they arrive and walks over to her side to help her out. The night’s chilly and she didn’t have the time to get a coat as he practically dragged her out of the bar. He notices her shivering, so he takes off his jacket, drapes it over her shoulder, which earned him the sweetest of smiles from her. One that makes his heart flutter in his chest.

It’s weird but he slowly gets used to it, gets used to the constant fluttering and beating of his heart. He still doesn’t like it, though.

“Come on,” He says, offering her a hand and holds on to her when she places her hand in his.

He threads his fingers through hers, his thumb brushing over her wrist, painting figure eights on her skin as they walk towards the little shop.

“Wow,” She lets out when she sees the queue of people. “It’s way past 2am and they are still queueing?”

“Don’t worry, I get special treatment,” Dean winks with a cocky smile.

Y/N rolls her eyes and he huffs out a laugh. 

He holds her tighter when he pushes a way through all the people queuing and waiting, “The best burger in town,” He turns his head back to tell her and wiggle his eyebrows and she raises hers, as if she wants to say that the jury’s still out on that one. 

Dean ignores the shouts from the others who told them to get in line, as they walk past that said line, and he only glances back to shoot them a mean look. Sure enough, nobody said another word to him after. 

He pushes his way into the small burger shop. The interior is lined up by only a couple of seats in the front next to the counter and a long bar to stand and eat your burgers. Dean looks around before he sees a big bulky man in a baseball cap coming towards them.

“Dean!” The man pulls Dean into a hug. Dean’s hand is still holding Y/N’s and it makes the hug super awkward but Dean takes it, relishes himself in the familiar feeling.

“Hey Bobby, you got a table for us?” 

“Of course, I do. For you always!” Bobby’s as cheerful as ever. 

He takes them to the back where there are a couple more tables set up that are not occupied. Dean knows that Bobby keeps this space especially for Dean’s people and the people Bobby trusts. 

It’s simple, easy and, in Dean’s opinion, that’s the charm of the whole place. Dean likes being here. It always feels like coming home.

Bobby finishes cleaning the table for them and braces his hands on his hips, his belly standing out a little. “And who is this lovely young lady?”

“Bobby, that’s Y/N,” Dean introduces her, “Y/N, meet Bobby. He used to feed me when I was younger.” Dean says and he actually wanted to warn her, wanted to tell her that Bobby’s a big hugger but it’s too late. Bobby scoops her up in a big bear embrace and she squeals a little while Dean couldn’t hold back, throwing his head back as he holds his belly laughing.

“So lovely to meet you!” Bobby almost shouts, “You know, Dean here, all you see, that’s my doing. He was so thin the first time he walked in here.” Then he turns to Dean, “You should have told me you’re bringing a lady around. You never bring ladies! I would have cleaned up a little more!” Bobby’s eyes trail to the empty boxes and cartons that are standing around the empty tables.

“Bobby, it’s fine, you’re doing good,” Dean pats Bobby’s shoulder and the older guy nods.

Dean waits for Y/N to sit down before he takes a seat himself. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Can I get you the usual?” Bobby asks and Dean opens his mouth to say something but Bobby doesn’t even wait for Dean to answer, already knows that whatever he brings would be alright for him. So Dean closes his mouth again, fully aware that Bobby just made a goddamn fool out of him. Dean raises his eyebrows and laughs it off.

“I’m sorry, I should have warned you.” He’s still grinning and she’s still out of breath from Bobby. He can see, even in the dimly lit space, that her cheeks are flushed and she’s clutching at her chest. 

“It’s okay. What does he mean he fed you?” She asks and Dean knows that the part didn’t slip her mind. She’s attentive, even when she’s slightly drunk. 

Dean’s mind races, wondering how much he can tell her. How much he should tell her.

“Bobby’s been like a father to me,” He explains, “My dad died some years ago, before I went to Afghanistan. Long story short, I didn’t really take care of myself because I had new responsibilities and was engrossed in my new position at a job I didn’t really want in the first place and frankly just went for days without eating properly because there was simply no time.” Dean could see the frown on her face and pauses before he tries to smile, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, look at me, I did alright, didn’t I? Bobby delivered food every day after he saw me at dad’s funeral, the old man wanted to make sure that I didn’t waste away.”

Her face falls, creases are showing between her brows and dammit, he wants to ease them away, preferably with a kiss. 

He stares at her, watches as her face softens, “Y/N, I didn’t tell you tonight when I saw you, but you look lovely.”

She blushes visibly, mumbles a thank you without looking him in the eye as a small smile tugs at her lips. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and Dean can’t stop staring at her, she’s definitely the prettiest thing he ever did see. 

Bobby arrives with burgers and fries, interrupting them and Dean laughs, telling her to dig in. 

What Dean learns during the meal is that she doesn’t share fries. Well, she doesn’t share hers but she wants him to share his . He laughs when he tells her that it’s not fair until Bobby overhears them and brings another big tray of fries, she grins brightly at Bobby and thanked him.

Bobby also keeps beer and drinks flowing, which Dean thinks, is counter productive, since he actually brought her here to sober up, not to get her more wasted, but he can’t find it in his heart to tell the old man off, so he kind of tries to get as much food into her as possible.

“Why did Sam introduce you as a war hero?” She asks and he looks up to see her taking a bite out of her now second burger.

He swallows down the bite he just took and licks his lips, “I came back unharmed.” 

Y/N raises an eyebrow, knowing that there’s more to it and Dean doesn’t really know if he should tell, or rather, what he should tell her.

He inhales and exhales audibly before he talks, “I wasn’t on duty that day, meaning that if you’re not on active duty, you’re supposed to help supply the battle positions with ammunition. It was before 6.00AM when it all started,” Dean tries to keep his voice low and calm because his heart is picking up speed again when he thinks back, “We were attacked by around 300 enemy fighters, which is not really a lot but considering that we were only a little more than 50, that’s quite a fucking lot,”

Dean closes his eyes just briefly, the image is right behind his eyelids. It’s like a fucking bad movie that keeps on playing on replay.

“I ran, or sometimes, crawled from one battle position to the other supplying them with what they needed to keep on firing and defend our position. Ran yards across open ground, and it rained fucking bullets, until I got into the Humvee for shelter. We’ve been shot at though.”

He can see the frown on her face but she doesn’t say anything and she stops eating to listen to him, so he goes on.

“They went out to look for the others and that’s where Milligan got shot. I couldn’t leave him there so I ran to him, brought him back to the Humvee and somehow, I managed to get him to the aid station where the doctors were working on the other injured already.”

He reaches out for his beer and takes a large gulp, his throat feels awfully dry all of a sudden. 

“They started to work on Milligan right away,” Dean chuckles but it’s not a happy kind of chuckle, “All he did was ask me over and over again if I had a cigarette, which of course I didn’t. I went right out there again though, and started to supply the gunners with more ammo. Somehow, we managed to push them back and there were choppers flying in to bomb the enemies after a long and loud day. They also flew Milligan right out as soon as they could.”

Dean takes a break to drink again, swallowing the tears in the process.

“I came home and received a Medal of Honor, still didn’t think I deserved it though. And for Milligan, he didn’t make it,” Dean’s voice is small, “Can you believe that the last thing he asked for was a goddamn cigarette and I couldn’t even give him that.”

Y/N reaches over, covering his big hand with her small one, drawing lazy circles on his skin with her thumb and Dean likes that. Likes how it soothes him. “It’s not your fault, Dean.”

“I know,” He nods. 

“You did the best you could. And you deserved it. You’re a hero, Dean,” She squeezes his hand and he can see in her eyes that she really means it.

Dean changes the subject pretty fast after that, not really wanting to tell her about what came after. Doesn’t want to tell her about the nightmares, and the depression that followed.

But still. 

Still, he hasn’t felt so relaxed and free in a long time. Has never felt like himself more than tonight. He wasn’t Dean Winchester, the mob boss. He doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to play a role. It’s easy, talking to her, watching her, getting to know more about her, even if she does not reveal a whole damn lot.

It’s so easy being around her that he begins to think of what could be. And it’s a dangerous thought that he shouldn’t be thinking, he knows, because honestly, he doesn’t want to drag her into this life. Into his life. It’s not exactly a nice one.

He likes how she listens to him, how she’s taking everything in and gives him honest thoughts and opinions. How she doesn’t try to impress him at all (she wouldn’t have to anyway). 

The easiness, the laughter…  that’s good, isn’t it?

It is. Dean decides. 

But also it is kind of terrifying, he can’t lie about that. The real question here is, Dean thinks, can he afford to let himself fall in love? Is he willing to risk everything for a woman?

 *

 “‘M not druuunk,” Y/N giggles and almost stumbles over her own two feet as they are getting up to leave.

Dean lets out a soft chuckle, “Who would dare to think that?!”

“I’m—”

She trips, and Dean’s there to take the fall, placing his hand around her waist and holds her upright.

“Just toptipsy,” She laughs and leans in, buries her face into his chest and closes her eyes.

“Yes, you are,” Dean grins, strokes her head with one of his free hands, “Let’s get you home, sweetheart.”

CH08

[pengychan]

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 20

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: Being a sticker for the rules is all well and good until someone uses said rules against you. Also, thanks to @lunaescribe​ for her help brainstorming for this chapter - she came up with a lot of what Sofía says in it! Art by @swanpit​ and @lunaescribe​!

***

“Well. It seems you are well and truly fucked.”

“That is not helpful.”

“I mean, I may be wrong. In case I’m not, I want you to know it was nice knowing you. Biblically and otherwi--”

“I beg you to spare me more nonsense,” Imelda groaned, still rubbing her temples. She had started almost as soon as Ernesto had opened his mouth to explain the situation, and had yet to stop. Either she was being dramatic, or there was a colossal headache on the way. “Last thing we need right now is for word to get out that we sheltered a deserter.”

Beside her, Héctor swallowed. “Well, if we say we didn’t know--”

“And you think Federales would care?” Imelda asked, her voice barely cracking a moment, giving a briefest glimpse to how scared she truly was at the prospect. Ernesto crossed his arm, the thing gnawing at the pit of his stomach - terror, and something that felt a lot like guilt - becoming almost painful.

The men lined up in plazas for the firing squad to execute. The hangings of those we did not shoot. The wailing children, the screaming women. Some were shot too, soldaderas, aiders like Imelda and Sofía. And even the holy cloth will not be enough to save them if they find out. 

“They won’t care,” he said, looking away. “I would know.”

A few moments of silence, and Ernesto barely dared to breathe; he wasn’t so naive not to know that spontaneously surrendering him before the gringo had a chance to speak would be their best chance at avoiding all that. If they gave any indication of planning to do that, then he’d have no choice but to make a run for it. If only he still had his horse--

“Well. It seems we must make sure the gringo never speaks, then.”

Imelda’s voice was firm, cold. Ernesto blinked, looking back at her. “What?”

“... Is it not what you have been trying to do? If he unmasks you, he will be calling down the wolves on every one of us. Whether he means to or not.”

“I…”

“Wait, wait!” Héctor spoke up, lifting his arms. His eyes were wide, his face ashen pale. “Let’s not-- there is no need to hurt him. He did tell Ernesto to leave, no? So say that we hide him, and we let the gringo think he did leave--”

Ernesto scoffed. “He’ll still denounce me, at this point. He only conceded me a head start before he does. It won’t help you when the Federales come asking questions.”

“Ah.” Héctor faltered a moment, then he shook his head. “No, it’s not right. We don’t need to harm him--”

Sofía raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think we’d be so lucky to have him just drop dead of a spontaneous heart attack within the next twenty-four hours.”

“No, look. He... doesn’t need to die. We only have to win him over.”

Ernesto opened his mouth. Héctor gave him an exasperated look. “Not that way.”

Ernesto closed his mouth. 

“What I mean, is-- he is a man of God. If we tell him what the Federales do to deserters… surely he’d know what is the charitable thing to do, saving someone’s life. That's the point of the Church - giving shelter to the helpless and... and he's helpless and needs shelter, right?”

“A helpless broad-shouldered ox?” Imelda muttered. 

“Broad shoulders won’t save me from hanging,” Ernesto snapped, pacing back and forth, dread growing in his chest. “This isn’t about my shoulders, anyway. This is-- this is--”

“This could work.”

“Huh?” 

Three pairs of eyes turned suddenly towards Sofía, who in turn gave them all the sweetest smile to ever grace a nun’s face. Well, as long as one ignored the glint in the eye that was more reminiscing of a fox approaching a wounded mouse. “Look at it this way - what is it the gringo loves more than anything?”

Ernesto opened his mouth. 

“Aside from that.”

Ernesto closed his mouth. 

“... God?” Héctor suggested tentatively. 

“Hah, as if. Imelda?”

“Being obeyed?” she said drily, and Sofía’s smile widened. 

“Close, but no. He loves being right. Being in the right. Or rather, believing he is. The holier than thou teacher, doing everything by the Book.”

Ernesto quickly glanced around, and was somewhat relieved to see the expressions on Imelda and Héctor’s faces were about as blank as his mind felt. In the end, he cleared his throat. “Can you speak in plain Spanish?”

The smile on Sofía’s face turned into a grin. “What I am saying is that one of us, whoever can act the best, needs to go to our dear leader Father John, and ask for him to confess them. And anything we say in confession…”

“He cannot say to others,” Imelda spoke, her expression brightening. “The seal of confession.”

“Exactly! Now, in the confession, we express our distress over something we learned by listening in to a prayer - where we heard Padre Ernesto say to God he was an escaped soldier terrified to die  - and oh no, Padre John, what do we do?” Sofía sighed, bringing a hand over his heart. “It's a crime, but what would Jesus Christ do, Father John? Surely he’d offer shelter?”

Ernesto blinked. “But he… already knows.”

This time, Héctor seemed to have caught on and grinned, showing off his brand new golden tooth. “But he cannot admit that, because it would make him look bad,” he said. “Either he admits to knowing of the crime for days before confession and keeping quiet, or he admits to being guilty of breaking the sacramental seal. Neither would make him look good. Neither would make him feel like he’s in the right. Plus, Jesus would frown upon sending a man to his death.”

Ah. Ernesto hadn’t thought about it that way at all. “And-- you think that would work?”

“It just might,” Imelda said. “Might be worth a try before other solutions are considered.”

More permanent solutions, her tone made it clear enough. Ernesto swallowed and nodded. 

“All right. Then, who…?”

“Héctor could do it,” Sofía said. “Though a woman’s tears might work better. Make him feel like the protective Padre. In that case, I could do it.”

That gained her a slightly dubious look from Imelda. “You can cry on command?”

Sofía burst sobbing, so suddenly it caused Ernesto to nearly jump. It was a little terrifying how quickly it happened, really: she was full-on wailing, face streaked with tears. Imelda raised both eyebrows, clearly impressed, while Héctor stood so quickly he caused the chair to fall back with a bang. 

“Hey are you all right-- please don’t, I’m sure Imelda didn’t mean to--”

Sofía’s crying stopped, as quickly as it had begun, and she gave a stunned Héctor a very, very wide grin. 

“Yes,” she said, voice sweet as honey. “I think it should be me.”

***

John’s walk back to the parish was slow, and full of dark thoughts. 

Part of him worried that he had been seen, because he was almost certain he’d heard at least a voice, but it was hard to muster the willpower to focus too much on it. What did it matter if someone saw him weep, saw him with the lit cigarette in his hand? His greatest weaknesses and vices were already laid bare before the Almighty. 

I will not remain for long. I cannot bear it. Once I have informed the Archdiocese of that man’s deception, I will ask to be reassigned.

Of course he knew there was a chance he may find himself defrocked, if he grew spiteful enough, desperate enough to drag him down with him, to tell. If he did, John would not attempt to lie. He would admit his sin, accept the punishment-- but God, oh God, he had worked so hard to the cloth he wore. Too hard to allow that sinner to… to ruin everything. 

I deserted and ran, he had said. If the Federal army finds me, I’ll hang.

God willing, that will happen before he can talk. 

It was a horrible thought, far beneath a servant of God - but it had still come unbidden to his mind, and shamed filled him the next moment. Look how low he’d sunk, how much he had sullied him. He truly was ruined. 

He would never be a true man of God. 

John’s eyes stung once more, but he refused to shed more tears that day. He stopped in the middle of the orchard he was going through to approach the church unseen, leaned against a tree, and drew in a few deep breaths. Nature walks used to bring him such peace, and now he was desperately grasping for scraps of it. He tried to focus on the rustling leaves, the wind, the birds, a dog whining…

… A child sobbing?

John recoiled, opening his eyes and turning to glance around. He couldn’t see anyone, but sobbing it was, and clearly a child’s. Was someone hurt? He frowned, and followed the noise. “Who’s there?”

A small gasp, a hiccuping sound, and there was the source of it - Miguel, sitting beneath a large tree and hugging the hairless stray dog who’d follow him anywhere, apparently unaware of the copious amounts of drool dripping on his shoulder as the beast let him hold onto it. What… had happened?

“Miguel?” John stepped closer, only to pause when he realized Miguel was looking at him the way a child only looks at you when expecting a scolding, some sort of punishment.

“It’s nothing,” Miguel said quickly, standing up and wiping his face with his sleeve. He was clearly in a rush to get away from him. It stung, truly, to see the boy mistrust him so. Only days ago, he’d liked him. He’d smiled at him. It had taken so little for that to change again.

I’m meant to be their shepherd, but they once again look at me like I’m the wolf.  

But they didn’t understand, he was trying to do things right by God - he was guarding their souls, he was trying to save his own, he… he…

“Miguel,” he called out, reaching out tentatively to rest a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I am here to help. Whatever is bothering you, you can tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“You may tell me as a confession, and it will be under sacramental seal. You can trust--”

“No,” Miguel snapped suddenly, jerking away from him. He looked up, scowling, but he failed to come across as angry. He only seemed so very sad. “I can’t. Any of you.”

Normally, John wouldn’t have let such behavior stand - he would have at least demanded to know the reason for such an outburst, lectured him on how to properly address his elders and most of all a man of God. The implication he may not take the sacramental seal seriously was nothing short of an insult, but he was so drained, with so much on his mind and such as weight on his soul. In the end, he simply nodded and folded his hands. 

“All right. Do you mind if I sit with you?”

A long, suspicious look - both from the boy and his dog. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. It simply feels as though we may both use some company,” John replied, and sat beneath the tree. Miguel stared at him, his expression softening a little, causing John to wonder if perhaps he’d failed to conceal signs of his earlier breakdown as well as he’d hoped.

Bit late to worry about it.

He averted his gaze, saying nothing, and heard Miguel sitting down by his side. The dog wandered around, nosing at leaves, probably looking for something edible. After a brief silence, it was Miguel to speak. “... Is something wrong? You’ve been-- weird.”

John swallowed, trying to ignore how his heart seemed to be beating in his throat. No, he had to stay calm. Surely, there was no way a mere child may know of his sin. “Have I?”

“Sí. I mean, you act--” a pause, probably looking for a polite way to put it. “Different.”

“Well--” John began, about to explain how he only had the salvation of their souls at heart, but Miguel spoke before he could.

“Kinda scary.”

Ah.

I’m meant to be their shepherd. They should not be afraid to seek me out.

“I… suppose I have not been in the best of moods.”

“Did something happen?”

“My faith is being tested. It is not for you to concern yourself about,” John replied, his voice soft. “You are a child.”

A scoff. “I’m not dumb.”

“Ah, that is not what I mean. You are one of the innocent. Yours is the Kingdom of God.”

“Ah.” Miguel paused, clearly unsure how to respond to that. In the end, he shrugged. “Well, I’m not going to be a kid for long. I’ll get older, they’ll kick me from the orphanage, and that’ll be it.”

Oh, John thought, so that was what was bothering him. The memory of the night he’d stumbled out of his home into the night, his clothing torn and blood seeping through the fabric, terror in his chest and despair in his mind, tried to make a comeback. He forced it away.

No such thing will happen to him. He is a good child. He is home here.

“But no one will be forcing you out of Santa Cecilia, no?” John asked, smiling. “Your friends will still be all here.”

A snort. “Some friends,” he muttered, hugging his knees. “I don’t need them. Someone told me he was gonna take me out of here, but he won’t either. Fine. I don’t need anyone.”

“Whatever gave you such thoughts?”

Miguel shrugged, looking away. John supposed it was a clear enough cue that he still had no intention to talk about it. He decided to remain quiet, and wait. It didn’t take too long for Miguel to speak again; he was, after all, a child in need of comfort. 

“He didn’t even come after me when I ran off.”

“This... person you’re angry at?”

“Yes. He would have come after me, before. But now he doesn’t care anymore.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t excessively difficult for John to figure out who Miguel may be referring to. He and Brother Hector were usually joined at the hip. “Well, perhaps he has concerns--”

“Oh, I know what concerns he has,” the boy muttered, his voice dripping sarcasm. John raised both eyebrows. He certainly did not approve of Brother Hector harboring… affection towards a woman while a novice, and he’d rather he made up his mind soon instead of keeping up that mockery, but none of it was something to burden a young mind with. 

So he drew in a deep breath, and tried to be as accommodating as he could. “If it is who I am thinking, he is… a young man himself. And possibly struggling with faith, and-- these are difficult times. I’m certain he cares about you deeply.”

Miguel seemed to hesitate a moment, then he glanced up at him. “... How would you know?”

Father John Johnson gave a small, pained smile. “I was the oldest of four siblings, and I loved my sisters and brother dearly. I had duties, as the oldest - I won’t bore you with the details - but from time to time, both Sarah and Michael complained I wasn’t paying any attention to them. Perhaps they were right to say so, and I do regret it to this day.” I’ll never see them again. Ruth won’t even remember me. “I cared about them, as much as I always had. But I was trying to be the best example I could be, and did not realize they felt left out.”

“Oh,” Miguel said. He seemed to mull on his words for a few moments before he sighed. “It’s not the same thing. He-- I told him something, and he promised me not to tell, but he told and now… someone else is mad at me. Why would he do that?”

John didn’t know what he precisely was referring to - probably something like having stolen an apple from the market stand, or eaten the last candy, what other secrets could a child have? - and he hummed. “You know, my sister Sarah once showed me she could jump from her window on the tree branch right before it, and climb down to the ground.”

A faint chuckle. “That sounds cool.”

“She made me promise not to tell our Father.” John smiled faintly. “I told him that evening.”

“Ugh.” Miguel rolled his eyes. “Why were you such a spoilsport?”

“I worried she may hurt herself. I had her best interest at heart, even if she didn’t see it that way. Not that day, but-- no. No, she really never forgave me for that.” He smiled, the memory bittersweet in his chest. “But I can promise you, my intentions were good. Sometimes we may be misguided, but… don’t you think that, perhaps, it was the same for Br-- your friend?”

“Well…” Miguel paused a moment, and seemed to be musing on that. He bit his lower lip, feet shuffling a little in the dirt, and finally sighed. “Yes. Maybe. I mean, I was also not supposed to say something, but I told because I thought it was-- the best thing to do.”

“There you go. I am sure he feels the same.”

He nodded and finally looked up at him, tears gone from his eyes. “... Why aren’t you always like this? You know, not a cab-- I mean, nice?”

Ah. “I… understand I may come across as harsh, but I only wish to keep your souls from harm.”

“Yes, but if you just scare everyone…” Miguel made a vague gesture with his hand. “You said people can mean well but be misguided. So, uh… maybe… you know?”

No. Not now. I was misguided before, when I was too soft. Now I’m doing the right thing. I am.

“... I will give the matter some thought,” John found himself saying instead. Miguel smiled, and he smiled back - knowing full well that, once he revealed the truth about the man they believed their beloved parish priest, the boy may never smile at him again.

***

Looking back later on Sofía would think that maybe, just maybe, she had exaggerated a little bit.

Perhaps it would have been best to approach him looking anxious, letting her voice crack a little as she began speaking, and then letting the waterworks start as she got to the meat of it. However, as much as she liked to mock Ernesto over his dramatic flair, sometimes she simply couldn’t resist… and the gringo’s face as he opened the door to the room he had elected as his office to see a nun bawling her eyes out was well worth it. Priceless. 

If not for the fact it was a literal matter of life or death, Sofía probably wouldn’t have stopped laughing until Día de los Muertos. Instead, she turned the snicker threatening to leave her in yet another sob and grasped Padre Juan’s cassock, faintly wondering if she could get away with blowing her nose in it. Maybe she would, he seemed stunned enough not to question it.

No, not the moment for that. Focus. 

“For the love of-- Sister, what in the-- what has happened-- are you hurt…?” the gringo stammered, and immediately moved aside to let her in, a hand on her upper back - a gesture he certainly wouldn’t have even contemplated under normal circumstances. “Here, here. Please, sit. Dry your tears - what is it, Sister?”

Ah, Sofía thought, men. Mexican, gringo, maricón or not, there really were few who wouldn’t immediately feel obliged to do their utmost to comfort a sobbing woman. She’d had some doubts over the gringo, considering how harsh he had been to Fernanda when she had come to his confessional months ago, but it was working now. Maybe being a bride of Christ helped her there, or maybe the hard work Ernesto had put into mellowing him hadn’t gone entirely wasted.

That, and he was finally getting the chance to act like the saviour he thought he was; of course he wouldn’t let it pass by. It wasn’t often people willingly turned to him for confession.

“Gracias, Padre,” she choked out, sitting down and taking the handkerchief he was handing her. She dabbed her eyes as delicately as she could, holding back from noisily blowing her nose and letting her shoulders shake. The gringo hurried to pour her a glass of water from a pitcher. 

“Here, drink. Tell me what’s troubling you,” he said, sitting before her. 

He looked pale - well, paler - himself, with dark shadows under his eyes. If he hadn’t been such a cabrón, Sofía might have felt bad for him. She drank half the glass in one gulp before she spoke. “I… I need confession, Padre. What I tell you cannot leave this room.”

The gringo’s forehead scrunched up some, and Sofía could very easily imagine the sins he was mentally accusing her of. He was probably right on several accounts, really, but he needed not know that. In the end, he breathed out and nodded, sitting before her, hands folded. 

“Of course. Anything you tell me will be under the seal of confession. God hears you, sister.”

Well, it was time. Sofía drew in a shaky breath and straightened her back just a little, mindful to keep her gaze low, fixed on the handkerchief in her hand. It looked expensive but old, with his initials exquisitely embroidered in a corner; she wondered, in the back of her mind, if it was a memento of his life from before being found out, before being disowned.

“Forgive me, Padre, for I have sinned,” she began, her voice trembling. “I have… I have listened in to something I never ought to have and… and I don’t know what to do.” Another sob. “I don’t want anyone to be harmed on my account.”

“No one will come to any harm,” Padre Juan said, his voice soft. “Tell me what has happened.”

“It… it’s about Padre Ernesto,” Sofía said, and she didn’t need to look up to know the gringo had stiffened: the glimpse at his folded hand suddenly clenching was enough of a clue.

She had expected that. What she did not expect were his next words, quiet, cold as ice. 

“... Has he harmed you, Sister?”

“What!” Sofía looked up, stunned at the notion he really believed Ernesto could do something so utterly stupid. Juan blinked, taken aback by her sudden exclamation, and she was quick to lower her gaze again, shaking her head. “No, good Lord, no, he-- he never!”

“Ah.” The gringo cleared his throat, rather embarrassed for jumping to the wrong conclusion for seemingly no reason. “Well, that is-- good. It’s good. Then what has happened?” he asked, sounding… just a touch hesitant. It wasn’t hard to guess he now expected her to confess she had fallen in love with the parish priest or something equally saccharine. It took all of Sofía’s willpower not to roll her eyes. Instead, she swallowed. 

“I was in the chapel, it was my turn to clean the pews, and… and I was running late, I was not meant to be there at that time-- I heard Padre Ernesto praying. He didn’t hear me coming in and… and I… listened.” She looked up, eyes huge and brimming with tears. His expression was stony now, but it was clearly not her his anger was directed at. “Oh, Padre, he wasn’t quiet - he was shaking, and weeping, and begging for forgiveness.”

Padre Juan stared at her, the stony expression turning into obvious astonishment. She may as well told him she had witnessed Ernesto flying over the parish.  “He-- what?”

She sobbed again, covering her face with her hands. “He said-- he said-- oh, Padre, he is not who he says he is. What I heard, I… I think he escaped from the Federal Army.” A pause, just enough for a shake breath, taking note of the fact that Padre Juan was… not speaking just yet. “He's terrified they might find him-- they will kill him, Padre!” Sofía tore her hands off her face with perfect dramatic flair, looking up at him in what she hoped was a look of utter despair. 

Padre Juan… stared at her, his expression blank. And then he stared. And stared some more. 

… A little unnerving, that. “Padre?”

“Ah,” he finally said, recoiling as though snapped back to reality. He then proceeded to make the poorest attempt at feigning surprise Sofía had ever seen, and she had seen Imelda trying to pretend she was unaware of Héctor’s obvious pining. “Yes, I… my apologies. You just said-- what you said--” he trailed off, a look of alarm on his face. “Did he admit to-- anything else?”

Sofía fought with all her might to keep herself from cocking an eyebrow at him. “No, only that,” she said, her voice a little more dry than it should have been to keep up the Distraught Damsel Act, but he seemed far too relieved to notice the slip. He cleared his throat. 

“Ah, yes. That is. That is indeed. Concerning,” the gringo muttered, his voice rather forced. He wasn’t even trying to go down the ‘you must have misheard’ route. God, he was such an awful liar. “If he indeed is a… an imposter, and a deserter, the appropriate authorities should--”

Sofía gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth in sheer horror. “No! Padre, you said this would be covered by the sacramental seal! The holy secret of confession!”

“I…” Padre Juan opened and closed his mouth for a few moments like a fish out of water, his pale skin suddenly flushing red. Last she’d seen a face like that, the man in question had been trying to pass a kidney stone. “Yes, I… of course… the secret of confession is sacred,” he repeated. Every single word seemed to be causing him pain. Much like kidney stones.

“I heard the things Federales do to deserters, it doesn’t bear to think about!”

“Regardless he-- er-- the Church is not to be mocked, he blasphemed and something ought to--”

“He must be so scared, Padre. Desperate men do desperate things.”

“Of course, but… but…” he stammered, too taken aback by the turn the situation had taken to be his usual sanctimonious self. Sofía had no intention to let him recollect his thoughts.

"I have seen men hang and left to feed the crows for trying to avoid service - we must help him, Padre, por favor, I cannot bear-- the Church cannot stand by and let a man be killed...” a fresh round of tears, hands over her face, but she kept her fingers spaced out just enough to catch a glimpse of him. He looked stunned, frustrated, angered and concerned at the same time. 

He knew exactly the position her confession had just left him and oh, he clearly did not like it, but neither would he willingly break something as sacred as the secret of confession. Just as expected. Sofía highly doubted Pope Innocent III was anywhere near innocent and therefore anywhere near Heaven at the moment, but right there and then she could have kissed him with plenty of tongue for enshrining the sacramental seal in canonical law.

In the end, his tense expression melted into a long sigh. He reached over to put a hand on her shoulder. "Cease your crying, Sister. I can tell this has disturbed you greatly, and that you...you care deeply for Fath-- for Ernest."

… Well. That sounded suspiciously like he’d just gotten the wrong idea about her pleas to protect the man she had supposedly believed to be their beloved parish priest up to that afternoon, but if it helped her, so be it. Sofía grasped his free hand with both of hers, looking up with a sniffle. “Please, help him,” she choked out. “He was so distraught.”

His expression hardened one moment in anger, pain, and God knew what else; he clenched his jaw a moment before, finally, his expression turned blank again. “Of course,” he said, his voice a little distant. “I suppose desperation explains such… intense deception.” 

And he did deceive you for a good while, Sofía thought. Longer than you’d like. You were in the best position to see all the things that didn’t add up. But you just didn’t expect a Mexican to be that good a priest in the first place, did you? You’d have clocked a gringo imposter much earlier.

“Sí, Padre,” she said instead. “And the way he prayed, oh, he repents. I am certain that if we have mercy, he will repay the Church for what he did.”

Another pause, a clench of his jaw. It was easy to see he didn’t quite buy Ernesto repenting, and yet he seemed to hesitate. “Are you certain he didn’t hear you coming?”

“Sí, Padre. He had no idea I was there.”

A long breath. “I see. We must… keep this a secret for time being, Sister Sophie.”

She ignored the butchering of her name, as always, and nodded fervently. “I will tell no one.”

“... Very well. I will confron-- talk to him, and… figure out the best way forward,” the gringo said, and let out a long breath. “Is there… anything else you wish to confess?”

“No, Padre,” she replied. He nodded, gaze a little unfocused, and gave her absolution, and his  blessing. Sofía thanked him time and time again, mentally patting herself on the back; she had a foot already out of the door when he spoke again, suddenly. 

“Sister. He has confessed you in these past months, I am sure, as he did many others. Does it not concern you, to know those absolutions were worth nothing?”

Ah. Sofía turned, her expression somber. The gringo was looking back at her, and he looked haunted. It was easy to guess what that was all about - it concerned him, and a great deal. Her next lie wasn’t for her own benefit, not really. It was for his own. “... Not terribly, Padre. I was sincerely regretful, confessed in good faith, and I am certain God knows as much.”

“I see,” John Johnson murmured, thumbing at the golden crucifix at his neck. “You say he prayed for forgiveness and truly repents. In that case, I’ll talk to him and… see for myself.”

Sofía nodded. “Thank you, Padre,” she said, her expression as grateful as she could make it.

The gringo just nodded back, looking away, and closed the door behind her without a word.

***

“And he actually-- believed all of that?”

Héctor hadn’t meant to sound that stunned - he’d seen first hand how good an act Sofía could put on - but it really sounded… a bit of a stretch. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine Ernesto sobbing out of guilt in the chapel of all things. 

Sofía shrugged, finishing her glass of wine. “At the very least, he didn’t reject the possibility. Getting him to entirely believe it is up to him now,” she said, and turned to look at Ernesto, who had been quiet throughout her account of the meeting. Almost eerily quiet, really. “And you better not mess up. Remember, you are extremely repentant and prayed for forgiveness, wish you could undo what you did in your desperation to save yourself and all that.”

Ernesto made a face. He was learning back on his chair, arms folded over his chest. “If I throw this sob story on his lap when he asks, he won’t buy it.”

“Then find a way to sell it. I did,” Sofía replied, rolling her eyes. “Where’s Imelda, by the way?”

“Covering up for your duties while you are ‘indisposed’,” Héctor replied. “She figured this would come across more believable if she told everyone that you told her you were not feeling well.”

“Ah, fair point. I was so terribly upset,” Sofía chuckled, and stood. “We’ll, I should retire and rest, then. If he asks, tell the gringo that I told you I was feeling terribly tired and did not come out since afternoon.” She paused a moment, and reached to put a hand on Ernesto’s shoulder. “Look. I think he is willing to hear you out. So please, don’t mess this up. I don’t hate him quite enough to want to move on to plan B and plan out his murder.”

Ernesto looked up at her, let out a long sigh, and nodded. “I won’t mess up,” he muttered, and looked away. “Thank you.”

Héctor turned to follow Sofía with his gaze as she left, then he bit his lower lip and looked back at Ernesto. His gaze was oddly distant, arms still tightly folded. “... You can do this, all right?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well…” a sigh, and Héctor decided to drop the matter. He finished his wine glass and stood. “I guess I’ll go looking for Miguel. He was really mad at me when I saw him, for letting you know that he told me about you. What did you even say to him?”

A grunt. “He caught me in a bad moment, is all.”

“Well, you owe the chamaco an apology.”

“Chingate.”

“That was not a request, Ernesto,” Héctor snapped. “Miguel kept the secret longer than most  kids his age would have. He’s eight, por Dios. You can’t blame him for caving in.”

“He wouldn’t have had to if he weren’t the only one with the brains to find me out right away!”

Héctor - who did not know, and would never know, how seriously Ernesto had considered silencing Miguel permanently that day - scoffed. “What, now you’re mad because I didn’t find you out? You shouldn’t be. If we had before we got to know you, I… I’m not sure what we would have done.” His voice grew a little weaker as he finished, because it was true and the thought had kept him awake a couple of nights. It caused Ernesto to fall silent, too, before he sighed.

“... Well. I guess I lucked out, the--”

“Father Ernest.” Father John’s voice caused the both to recoil and turn to see him standing in the doorway, hands tightly clasped together. His voice was firm, and rather chilly. “A word, if you please,” he spoke again before either could respond, and then he was walking off again, clearly expecting Ernesto to follow. And, with a long breath, he did, leaving Héctor to anxiously wait. 

After all, as he’d put it earlier, what choice did he have?

***

“Sit.”

It was an order, delivered in a rather cold tone, but at least this time around he wasn’t screaming or sobbing. Ernesto found it easier to deal with, however little he liked being ordered around. He did sit, and heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. 

Until not too long ago, having a locked door between them and the rest of the world meant Ernesto was about to enjoy what was to come. He suspected it wouldn’t be the case now, unless Juan had changed his mind rather dramatically, which he doubted. 

He was dashingly handsome, but not that dashingly handsome. 

“I gave you a chance to leave with your life.” Juan spoke up, and went to sit behind the desk. He looked at him, hands folded and eyes narrowed, remarkably in control. It made Ernesto nervous, but at the same time it was a relief. He had no wish to see him as shattered as he’d been. “You claim you’ll hang if the army gets to you, and yet you did not take that chance.”

“There is no place in Mexico that is safe,” Ernesto spoke, his voice just as firm. “I’m done for the moment you speak.”

A long silence as Juan kept staring at him, expression unreadable. “... Do you repent at all?”

Well, that was it. What Ernesto had told Sofía was true - there was no way he could immediately throw a sob story at him and expect to be believable, because Juan knew him far better than he knew her - so he had to be careful with his reaction. He paused a moment, and then turned away. “I did what I had to do to survive.”

“Even if it meant you’d soil me.” The hurt in Juan’s voice was plain, and it struck a chord Ernesto didn’t even know was there. He clenched his jaw a moment before he spoke again. 

“I hadn’t-- thought it would get so far,” he muttered. “All I knew was that I couldn’t let them find me. If you left Santa Cecilia, and mentioned me to anyone who’d know the name of the priest who was supposed--”

“That’s your justification, then. You were afraid of death.”

“What sane man isn’t?”

A long breath. “Answer my question. Do you repent, Ernest?”

“Not leaving the army, never,” Ernesto crossed his arms, forgetting he was supposed to act. But, up to that moment, he did mean every word. “I couldn’t spend one more night in the barracks, or march one more day under the sun, gun down one more civilian or risk my neck for Huerta, or--”

The firing squad. The hangings. The wailing. The battles and the bullets and the death, it all came back at night and we tried not to think, me and the others, and in the dark a body is a body and we only wanted to feel alive again. 

Ernesto’s voice died in his throat. The pause that followed was not planned, nor the breath he forced in and out of his lungs, or the words he managed to choke out afterwards. “I only ever wanted to be a musician.”

Another silent, long look. Juan’s expression showed nothing; if not for the dark shadows under his eyes, he’d have looked everything like the insufferable gringo who’s first walked in the parish to immediately criticize everything he did or said. “It has come to my attention that you’ve been praying in the chapel.”

Ernesto looked away. “And…?”

“Praying for forgiveness. Expressing remorse.”

“Nonsense,” Ernesto snapped, both because it was and because it was the only believable answer. “I don’t regret leaving the army, or taking advantage of some gullible parishioners. I--”

“You were seen and heard.”

Now.

Ernesto reared back as if slapped, letting his jaw go slack as though in shock. It was a reaction the gringo had been expecting, clearly, because he could see some of the hardness in his gaze fading. If he’d suspected Sofía’s confession had not been entirely truthful, that ought to have taken care of it. “What--” Ernesto stammered, his bravado gone. “Who…?”

“It is not for you to know.” Juan leaned forward, just a little, eyes searching Ernesto’s. “If not leaving the army, if not deceiving the Church and these people, what is it you regret?”

“I…” Words died in Ernesto’s throat, and it was not an act. Suddenly, holding Juan’s gaze was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Something was there that hadn’t been before, an odd sort of hope that could be snuffed out with mere words. Words Ernesto couldn’t utter either way, because his tongue felt heavy as lead in his mouth. He lowered his gaze, saying nothing. 

“... Ernest. I am owed an answer. I am no longer pure on your account, a sinner, unworthy of the cloth I wear. I chose this path in hope to redeem myself, to…” his voice faltered. “To perhaps be worthy of seeing my family again, and you took it from me. Everything I toiled and hoped for may be nothing but ashes now, and--”

“Lo siento,” Ernesto blurted out, and Juan fell silent. Gaze lowered, a weight on his chest-- “No choice! How did you have no choice but to defile me! You ruined me!” -- Ernesto did not look up to see his expression. He heard a sharp intake of breath, then a long sigh, and the sound of a chair being pushed back on wooden boards, followed by steps. He dared look up to see John walking up to the window, giving him his back. 

Ernesto opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what he’d even say, but the gringo spoke first. “God has spoken to me,” he declared. Ernesto closed his mouth. 

Oh, por Dios. He’s lost it.

“If you were a test put before me, I have failed - but I see now that in His mercy, the Lord is giving me a second chance. I will be an instrument of His will, redeem myself not by being the one to throw the first stone - but by being the shepherd who brings the lost sheep back to the flock.” He turned, reaching up to thumb at the golden crucifix at his neck. “As my mentor did for me when I arrived at his parish as a runaway. I was lost, too, and I was found.”

“Huh,” Ernesto muttered. Not his cleverest ever retort, but-- what else was he meant to say? He wasn’t sure what turn he had expected that conversation to take, but that was not it. 

“Now. Of course, it is regrettable that the good people of Santa Cecilia are to be deceived any longer than they already have been, but given the situation, I am certain God will be forgiving. It goes without saying that I am to take on the most important duties,” Juan continued. “Sunday Mass, confessions, blessings and such. It is paramount that a real priest performs them.”

Ernesto suspected the parishioners would be less than thrilled by the change, but he knew he had no grounds to argue. “I-- of course. But what am I supposed to do--”

“... And of course, it is also paramount that you spread the true word of God for however long this has to keep up,” Juan cut him off, and dropped something on the table - an old, heavy-looking Bible. Where had he been keeping-- no, wait. He didn’t want to know. “You will study the scriptures, and better yourself through them. We shall be both redeemed.”

“It’s… in Latin,” Ernesto said, looking up. The gringo gave him the slightly manic smile that could only possibly be seen on the face of a missionary with… well. With a mission. 

“You’ll learn, Ernest,” he said, and Ernesto suddenly wished he had, after all, taken the chance to run off when he could.

***

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Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold - Pt.10

The Reveal (final)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 3970

Summary: Avenger!reader AU, love triangle. After Natasha provided you some supporting evidince, you take up courage and go talk to Steve. It goes about as well as expected... okay, maybe it’ not that bad.

Warnings: some awkwardness, swearing, fluffiest fluff to ever fluff

Story Mastelist

────── ·❆· ──────

You were standing in front of the door, staring at it blankly. Once again, you were replaying something in your mind, unable to leave the loop.

Natasha had given you a recording. A recording of her conversation with Steve. An impossible recording.

“When— when did-- this happen?” you had asked her shakily, absolutely stunned and carefully guarding your heart so you wouldn’t let the hope in. This can’t be real.

“Can’t you tell? You were there in the beginning. It was the night you talked to Matt.”

“You— how-?”

“Honestly, you are both so pathetically oblivious it hurts. You really need to finally make out. I’m sure it will feel better than with Matt.”

You had had no words that could reply to that comment satisfactorily, so you had aimed for a different issue.

“He said that being with a teammate-“

“And you heard what I said back. Just take a fucking shower, brush your teeth and go talk to him, Frosty. And try to keep it quiet,” she had mumbled and you had looked at her, honestly clueless.

“Keep it— you think we’ll fight?”

“I think you’ll fuck, sestra.”

You were still blushing when standing in front of Steve’s door almost an hour later. You were a nervous wreck, still not quite accepting the possibility of the recording not being fake. Then again, there was this annoying hope sprouting in your heart and you totally blamed the sneaky Russian spy for that.

“Captain Rogers, I would like to inform you that your teammate known as Frostbite, or Snowflake as you like to call her, is standing in front of your door for exactly five minutes now,” a well-known voice with British accent announced in Steve’s room, loud enough for you to hear it.

Oh, JARVIS, you sly AI.

“Frosty? Wanna come in?” he called out lightly and you released the breath you had been holding and knocked on the door uselessly. Steve humoured you, inviting you in once more.

You hesitantly opened the door, all your mental bravado flying out of the window. Not that there had been much to begin with in the first place, but it had been something.

You peeked into the room, finding Steve cosy on his bed, resting his back against the headboard, his knees bended. He switched to sitting cross-legged when you entered.

“Hey,” he greeted you softly, putting his sketchbook aside and you managed a half-hearted smile.

“Hi, Steve. Haven’t seen this baby for a while,” you noted, beckoning to the notebook. He smiled shyly, closing it.

“Yeah. I thought it needed revisiting so it wouldn’t feel neglected. Haven’t seen you for a while.”

You closed the door, pressing your lips together at the strike. ”Fair. I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t want to ignore you. I… I just needed some time for myself.”

His baby-blues searched your face with a hint of worry.

“You look tired. Come sit?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the care. Yes, of course, Steve cared. Steve loved you even, but… but.

“Thanks.”

You approached the bed slowly; seating yourself on the bed felt like sealing a deal, as if there was no way out now. It was time to talk and possibly embarrass yourself for a lifetime. He moved a little closer, coy, but with a goal. He lightly caressed your bare arm, his honest eyes locked with yours. Shit you really could drown in that sea of blue.

“Feel better now? No need for more alone time?”

You closed your eyes, taking in his gentle touch. This was a great opportunity – he literally offered you a way to say it.

“I… I think I was alone for long enough,” you whispered, his soothing motion faltering. You opened your eyes slowly, worried about his reaction.

“Is it about the date? Did something happen?”

You observed his face wearing a strange expression you always interpreted as worry – this time, you couldn’t help feeling like there was something else, something you couldn’t put your finger on. His brow furrowed with anger too.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” he asked warily, his anger making sense to you now. But there was still something… “Snowflake? Did he-“

“No! No, Steve, Matt didn’t hurt me. He was… he was really nice to me, actually.”

“Oh. Good.”

Despite his words, something in his eyes darkened. It was such a tiny change, you wouldn’t have noticed it, but you were fascinated by his hypnotic gaze until he wasn’t looking into your eyes anymore. His hand fell too and his fingers started crumbling his sheets as if they couldn’t stay still. His lips formed a smile, but you didn’t believe it. You knew him too well.

“Where did you go? What was it like? Was he a gentleman?”

You licked you lips. His interest seemed genuine, but once again, there was hint of something venomous. You couldn’t help feeling like you weren’t Gerda but Kai, suddenly poisoned by the Devil, seeing flaws everywhere. It was so ironic you barely held back a snort.

“Nice Italian restaurant, not too crowded. The food was really good. Uhm… and yes, he was a gentleman, but… I didn’t come here to talk about my date, Steve,” you said, your stupid brain finally making the connection – or you hoped so.

It was jealously. Steve was jealous. Forget Bible, this was a goddamned revelation.

“Oh. Sorry,” he smiled hastily, nervous. “I didn’t mean to pry-“

You had no idea where the bravado came from, but you took his hand he kept closed in a fist in his lap to yours. It worked greatly; he shut up.

“Steve, I— okay, maybe I need to say it, because I feel like I’m always telling you everything and it would be weird if I suddenly didn’t, so-- uhm. Okay.”

He tilted his head curiously, looking utterly confused. But his body relaxed, the stiffness you could see ever since you had started talking about the date resolving. Well. You would both have to suffer through it once more. You cleared your throat.

“I had a great time with Matt. He… he walked me home and kissed me-“

Steve gave you a tiny smile, obviously trying very hard to be supportive friend slash brother and squeezing your hand gently.

“-and there was nothing. Just… nothing. It was… weird. Really weird. Not that he wasn’t a good kis-“

You covered your mouth with your fist to shut yourself up before more verbal vomit would come out. This was going terribly. Yet, Steve patiently sat opposite to you, listening to your non-sense, because he was a sweetheart.

Your sweetheart.

“Well. Let’s say we didn’t click. I— I’m not going out with him again. It was… embarrassing for both of us. But… what I’m trying to say is, that… that I’m really glad I went out with him, because… because it helped me realize something,” you explained slowly, finally getting on the right track.

For some reason, Steve looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Steve?” you addressed him, worried.

Seriously, he looked so spooked for a moment that it sent your heart racing; until he shook his head and moved a little closer to you, his free hand coming to caress your shoulder. You were utterly baffled by that development. Did he… did he do the math? Were you that obvious? Because so far you sounded to yourself like talking lots of crap.

“It’s okay, Snowflake,” he whispered with a reassuring smile. “You know you can tell me anything, right? You know I love you, nothing will change that.”

Your mouth fell open and you just stared at him wide-eyed and endlessly relieved. “Oh thank god,” you breathed, “I love you too, Steve.”

His smile looked a little broken now, but perhaps it was the weight of the confession. His palm cupped your cheek and your eyelashes fluttered at the sensation, just like your heart.

“I know I’m from the times that were less tolerant, but I would never look at you differently, Snowflake.”

His words made you freeze. Hold on a sec. “Steve-“

“It’s okay. So you… like women, that’s not-“

You slipped from his gentle hands, burying your face in your own, whining miserably. “Oh my god, this isn’t happening.”

You felt like you got punched to your stomach by Iron Man. Or by Steve’s shield to make it more ironic. Oh, this was not happening. Steve just told you he loved you, loved you despite being gay, while you finally admitted you loved him and you fucking thought he had confessed to loving you too.

“Someone just kill me, please,” you muttered, your hands immediately ripped away with not much grace.

“Don’t even think about it, this is not end of the-“

“Jesus Christ, Steve!” you snapped, startling him. His hands immediately went away, raised in a harmless gesture. “I’m not telling you I’m gay! I’m not trying to come out to you or tell you that I want to— to kill myself over it!”

Though now it seems to be a likeable option.

He blinked in shock; his lips parted. He looked so fucking cute you just wanted to kiss the confusion away – which would be pretty self-explanatory, but maybe a bit harsh.

“So… what are you saying?”

“I’m pretty comfortable with my heterosexuality, thank you very much, but it’s good to know you’re tolerant, not that it’s surprising.”

“…okay?”

You took a deep breath, shaking your head with your eyes closed. You were going to say it. Right now. Everything. You didn’t have to look into his eyes while doing it, right? Instead, you played with your fingers in your lap, watching the digits meeting and parting again.

“What I’m saying is that when I thought you were gonna die, it was the scariest thing I ever felt,” you whispered, his sharp inhale too loud in the room. “That every time you show up in that uniform of yours, my heart is going crazy and it’s not just because I’m afraid of what will happen on the mission – I’m positive, because my pulse is doing the exactly same thing when you just walk around in one of your stupid blue shirts or white t-shirts, because seriously, I’m pretty sure that you wearing those should be illegal.”

You checked his expression quickly, but he seemed absolutely stunned. Well, at least he wasn’t running away yet; though this was his room, he had nowhere to run.  You lowered your gaze again.

“I’m saying that every time I’m falling asleep in your arms during a movie night, all I want is to wake up in them too. When we’re training and you… somehow end up on top of me, I wish for you to stay there a little longer. Every time you look at me with those ridiculously pretty eyes of yours, I’m not sure whether I should snuggle you or… or…” Shit, I am such a coward. “I-“

His fingers found a way to your cheek once more, sliding under your chin, light pressure making you look up. You heart was pounding in your ears – you couldn’t remember being scared like this, ever. This was a different kind of fear, the deep kind you hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.

“When I thought you wouldn’t make it…” he whispered, his gaze flickering across your face, looking as amazed as if he just found a relic. “It was the worst feeling I lived through since I crashed the plane into an icy ocean.”

Your breath hitched. Please, please, tell me you’re saying what I think you’re saying.

“Every time you show up, I wish you were wearing your smile, because it’s like sunshine.”

His thumb traced your lips slowly, cautious, and you pressed a little daring kiss on the finger, praying you weren’t crossing a line. His own lips spread in the softest smile you’d ever seen and honestly, all you wanted to do was to taste that smile, your abdomen heating up at the idea.

“Whenever you’re falling asleep during a movie night… I wish I wouldn’t have to carry you to your room, but to mine instead, to keep you all night. When you happen to end up under me… I have to get up fast, because if I would stay a little longer…”

Alright, you were very distracted by where that thought would go, but holy sweet Jesus, Steve was really making a love confession and you couldn’t believe this was happening. It physically hurt you not to pinch yourself or to touch the adorable blush that appeared on his cheeks at the last exclaim.

“And when you look at me – the way only you do, I can’t even describe it, it’s like I matter, me, my bare soul, just-- all I want is to kiss you.”

You were positive you just changed into a puddle of love-sick jello. Definitely. You were absolutely putty and it took too much effort to ask him one simple question that burned on your tongue. You made sure to look into his eyes when asking it, the unknown feeling rushing through your veins, plucking up your courage,

“Then why don’t you?” you whispered, rewarded by his orbits lighting up, his smile widening. His gaze flickered to your lips and back.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll just try.”

The distance of the few inches seemed infinite with how slowly he crossed it. But you were willing to wait for it, your eyes falling shut when his own got unbearably close and then finally his lips were there too.

For a fraction of second, your messy mind returned several nights back to a completely different kiss, the reason why it hadn’t felt right finally clicking into place. Because this was right. Steve’s lips gently pecking yours and retreating a little at instant, just to trace the texture with his thumb once more and drive the butterflies in your stomach crazier.

You met his gaze, drunk and a bit baffled. Why did he stop so soon? Was it bad?

“I wanted to do that for a very long time,” he breathed, his eyes burning with honesty and delight.

“Just that?”

“Considering that a slap could have come at this point-“

You raised your hand to his cheek and he must have seen it peripherally, because for the shortest moment, his eyes widened with horror. But you just laid your palm on his jaw, pulling him into another kiss, this time making sure it would last. Steve’s lips sunk into yours with more confidence, apparently not afraid of you slapping him anymore.

You let your fingers wander up his arm, heat coiling in your abdomen at the idea of that arm holding you down, drawing you close. It had happened before, but now you knew the meaning would be completely different and your toes curled at the thought. You sighed when he took your lower lip between his, sucking on it tenderly. Oh god, you couldn’t feel your own limbs now and the same arm you had caressed just a moment ago wrapped around your waist, indeed pulling you close, basically making you sit in his lap. Which was a little uncomfortable and straddling him wouldn’t, so you shifted in your position.

He sighed in appreciation at your thinking, the tip his tongue gently asking for a permission to go on. You let him in, the pool of warmth inside your body spreading just everywhere, always coming back to your lap.

You felt his fingers tighten in the fabric of your top, his lips leaving, his forehead resting against yours so you could both catch your breath. You massaged the back of his neck, unaware your hand had got there along the way.

“Can you open your beautiful eyes for me, Snowflake?” he pleaded lowly, his voice rougher than usual. With desire, you realized.

Your heart possibly stopped – had he always been saying the nickname with so much affection and you hadn’t noticed or did he finally let his feelings bubble into his voice now?

Your legs squeezed his hips tighter on instinct, drawing something between a chuckle and a whine from his lips. You obediently opened your eyes to meet his – this up close, you could see the subtle threads of green in the sea of blue.

Putting some distance between your faces, you couldn’t help but feast your eyes on him. His pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed, his mouth almost bloodily red. Yet, his expression was one of awed, astonished even, and indescribably tender.

“I love you,” he said softly, his eyes locked with yours to add severity to his declaration, the words finally meaning what you always wanted them to mean.

“And I love you, Steve.”

His lips parted, his gaze suddenly hesitant. “You said I was family.”

“So did you,” you noted and he gave you a lopsided smile which was something you wanted to kiss away. But no, your stupid mouth needed to say something else. “And technically, husband and wife are family too-“

His pupils went comically wide and you realized what you just implied.

“Not that I’m thinking about marriage already! I meant— I just-- I wanted to-“ you stuttered and the beautiful creature that had you in its arms pressed its lips together before smiling brilliantly and shutting you up with another kiss. You were all for returning it before you could say something even more stupid like wanting to have his kids that would inherit his blond hair and his beautiful eyes.

You wriggled in his lap instead, earning a startled and very pleased sound from him, granting you access to his mouth, your tongues meeting. He pressed you against his broad chest in response, his hand moving a bit lower, running down your lower back and heading sideways; you were sure you were about to have a heart attack when he cupped your lower left cheek and you couldn’t think of a better way to go from this world.

“Steve,” you breathed to his mouth, rewarded by his grip tightening, his fingers digging into your flesh. Oh Jesus.

There was no better response than slipping your daring hand under his t-shirt on his back, feeling the muscles shifting as he kept pressing you closer. God, this man might have been an artist, but he himself was a work of art.

“Miss Anderson, Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff is asking me about how your conversation went,” JARVIS announced smoothly, sending you into a cardiac arrest and causing you to bit into Steve’s lips at the fright. “What shall I tell her?”

Steve shot you a puzzled look, licking on his wounded lip and you whimpered miserably, letting your forehead fall on his shoulder.

“Thanks, J. You can tell her that if she keeps interrupting like that, we definitely will keep it quiet tonight,” you whined and JARVIS, the friend he was, just said he would tell her exactly that.

You honestly didn’t know whether you should laugh or cry. What if Steve got mad now?

“Natasha?” he asked quietly and you just whined louder before facing him.

“Yes. She might have convinced me to crawl from the hole of my room and misery and admit how I feel about you.”

“Really? That’s… oh. She actually tried to convince me too,” he admitted tentatively and you shrieked, having a pretty accurate idea of how that had gone. “What is it?”

“She might have… used some… pretty solid evidence to… encourage me.” Steve’s eyebrows shot up in silent question, worry darkening his features. “A recording… of your conversation few nights back from the kitchen and-”

“Son of a-“

You looked at him, shocked, but he stopped himself before the actual curse left his mouth. His face was… priceless. Also, his lip seemed just fine, so you hadn’t hurt him that bad. Good.

“I honestly don’t know if I want to kill her or hug her,” he noted, making you grin. He wasn’t mad. Just… taken back, which was an appropriate reaction.

“Well. We are here, right? Together?” Steve’s arm tightened around you on instinct. “So maybe we should rather send her a fruit basket or something?”

Steve’s face lighted up with a mischievous smile, a spark of something appearing in his eyes. Ah-oh. His lips moved to your ear, the touch and his low voice making you shiver.

“Or maybe we should buy her some earplugs… for when we won’t keep it quiet.”

You dug your fingers into the skin of his back, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. Now that was a whole new side of the mischievous Steve you just glimpsed. Jesus. You did not see that coming and you sure as hell didn’t expect the heat pooling in your lower abdomen at that note being set on fire.

His hands framed your face, forcing you to look at him. He suddenly seemed anxious.

“Too much? I didn’t mean tonight! I don’t want to rush it, I’m perfectly fine with just keeping you for tonight, or— or not-“

You couldn’t believe that this guy honestly loved you, but somehow, it made sense. His sudden fright of crossing a line was adorable and the honesty in his words was something to cherish. He truly didn’t want to rush, willing to wait for you. He had a practice in that, after all. And so did you.

A little more waiting was fine with you, but you weren’t about to leave him thinking he spooked you or something. Oh no. You hoped he would live up to that suggestion. Possibly soon.

“Steve? Shut up and kiss me.”

A beautiful grin spread on his lips. “Yes, madam.”

────── ·❆· ──────  

Daredevil was on his nightly patrol, listening in for any disturbance of the relatively calm night when the air shifted, the temperature dropping suddenly. He couldn’t tell the precise figure, but it was close to freezing point now.

He thought of you immediately. Did something-

A snowflake fell on his lips, melting the very same moment it made contact. His breath caught in his throat. Almost soundlessly, other snowflakes fell, one after another, a symphony, the softest lullaby. It didn’t sound like crying; it sounded like happiness, the sounds lighting up the city, making his heart melt as well.

He smiled melancholically. Something did happen; you finally found love.

────── ·❆· ──────  

Natasha poured herself another glass of wine, sitting down on the couch, which was where Clint found her few minutes later.

“Ladies’ night?” he teased and the Russian just grinned at him.

“You’re paying up, brat moy.”

Clint’s eyes widened when he realized what she was implying. “You’re joking.”

“JARVIS, replay what our special snowflake asked you to tell me.”

Your voice filled the common room, while Natasha just extended her hand in Barton’s direction. He pressed a twenty into her hand with no further protest.

“What’s the gathering here? Oh, money? I’m interested,” Tony hummed, stopping in his tracks and taking several steps backwards to the couch to find out what that was about.

“Nah, Barton’s just paying up for a bet we made ages ago.”

“Really? About?”

“JARVIS? Could you-“ Natasha just started and the record played again.

“Son of a bitch, I think the hell just froze over – which would actually explain the early snow. How did that finally happen?” Tony asked, astonished.

“I’m afraid Agent Romanoff is quite a matchmaker, sir.”

Tony eyed the spy warily. “Dangerous woman. But you know it’s on you to buy us all earplugs now, right?”

“You think she’s a screamer? Or he is?”

“Ugh, I’m leaving,” Natasha exclaimed at Clint’s question, quickly jumping to her feet. She so didn’t need to be here for that. She still heard them as she was leaving.

“Dunno. I have a better question. How long until Rogers breaks a bed?”

She rolled her eyes and turned her glass bottoms up.

In the end, Stark won with his guess of five days, while Barton lost with his fifteen and Bruce with his guess of twenty, both losers naively hoping Steve would be more old-fashioned.

It took them six days to sleep together judging by the thin white frost with beautiful ornaments covering all windows of the Tower the seventh morning. The eighth night they broke a bed; and it happened at three a.m. Natasha swore she was never playing matchmaker again.

────── ·❆· ──────

Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​, @murdermornings​, @elisaa-shelby​ @ask-hellbent-tweek

────── ·❆· ──────

Steve Rogers masterlist

────── ·❆· ──────

There we go! It’s done! Thank you for reading :)

If you’re interested in further story, stay tuned for Heart Too Cold, but Friends of Gold... and if you want to stay tagged for it/get tagged, shoot me an ask or something :-*

[grlfriends]

revolutionary girl utena review

ep 1-5

the plot is actually kinda different from what I thought ?? in my mind the plot was: utena was a girl in a princess school who each and every princess would be "conquered" (for a lack of better words rn) in a ceremonial duel by a prince who fancied them, maybe she didnt wanna wanna marry anyone or she liked Anthy already but anyway in my mind utena showed up in the ceremony with duel clothing and then, in a very brave tm like-scene, she would openly declare she refused to be conquered by anyone and tbh I'm not even sure how Anthy would come into the plot... but back into what actually happened in the episodes everything so far is very introductory and just showing what mechanics will be explored further down the line I think?? the op is really good too

also every boy so far reminds me so much of knights of the zodiac?? maybe it's just the design I guess...) and nanami can get these hands, jealousy is a disease and she's the sickest person on earth for all I know

dont ask me why bit I just feel like room of mirrors - gfriend has a very well fitting vibe for it but I'm not exactly sure why hm.... 🤔🤔

ep 6-12

ok so why does this school just have random animals around 😐 I could understand the horse but a bull and a kangaroo?? what ...

touga just says the most random dramatic things and then just casually says anyone who believes in friendship is a fool ?? the guy wouldnt last a day in the naruto universe tbh, he kinda irks me in some way but I'm not sure why so I'll live with this strange feeling for a while I guess

↳ okay so watching ep 10 made me especially kinda creeped out, I know I've watched only 10 eps so far but like can he fall downstairs and break a neck or something already ...

also haha what if I watched that bet on it fmv and gave myself a bunch of spoilers would that be funny or what 😍 this is why i cant have nice things yall.... hope my memory goes to shit when sleep so I dont remember about it this week while I finish it

I feel like the main thing on the episodes are parallels, one way or another I always feel like they're setting up parallels and giving me clues for a bigger picture and a deeper plot arc that is still to come and the bet on it fmv just made this impression stronger, also I wanna say it's done in a good way, one that is both mysterious (??) and "honey you've got a big storm coming" at the same time 🤔🤔 much to think about honestly

↳ just saw ep 11 and even though I already knew this was coming sooner or later it still felt like crap seeing utena lose to dick head, at the end of the episode when he says anthy was always just reflecting utena's own wishes for himemiya (in another way bc I dont remenber the exact words) it felt like 😐 bc yes I knew that (the way she was working her thoughts was simply a copy and paste of what utena was saying) at all time I kept those essays about anthy in my head, I dont think theyll be truly relatable to what I'm seeing rn but yeah anthy rights (even though I know you betray/cheat on utena down the line bc of the bet on it fmv but I'm sure you had your own motivation)

↳ saw ep 12 bc I just couldnt handle being in a cliffhanger and yeah it happened what I absolutely thought it would lmao not that it was that difficult to foresee but yeah, I kinda liked how utena did it for her instead of being like "oh I wanna save anthy from touga" and treating her like a damsel in distress (I know that's kinda her position as the rose bride for what I've been told so far and that this is a subject spoken about in many many essays on tumblr but yeah) bc so far she's been treated as a trophy and a way to get something else, for the green haired guy it was a way to see something eternal, for miki it was a way to hold on into his "shining thing" and for touga it seems (so far) like a way to manipulate (just like he does with nanami) and just mark his position as above everyone else as he seems to view himself?? man I might be saying random stuff rn but it kinda does makes sense in my mind with the information I've had to this point

ep 13-25

honestly 😐😐 through 9 whole episodes I felt like they were trying to make the side characters deeper and show their hidden face and motivations but it felt so shallow...... not even actually shallow, just not deep enough that it would make me care about these characters and the fact there was no actual build to showing us why we're getting to know these characters backgrounds was just kinda meh too, didnt really help that all episodes had all the same formula and the same timing just for the developers made in those episodes be forgotten at the end and also just that pink haired guy could be like "ah failure again", it felt like watching the same episode over and over again, it was really tiring and like?? girl help I do not care about these characters at all, I feel like it could have been done well (like the keiko ep in comparison to the furuba chapter that deals with the yuki appreciation (??) club president graduating.... the way this ep was done and setup didn't really bring me any emotions) overall not to my taste and tbh I feel like I could have skipped all those episodes except for maybe the miki and juri one so 😑

all nanami focused episodes are the worst so far, she's so boring and I cant stand now annoying she is, the diary episode?? the cow episode?? the episode when tsuwabiki fuels with utena?? honestly I know they're trying to show me a better and different side of her but it just doesnt!! work!! bc i feel no sympathy for her, my biggest wish rn is her and touga just disappearing and no more filler episodes🗣🗣

I thought akio was utena's prince?? but apparently he's just anthy's brother and like.. I'm do done with his little talks with utena and yadda yadda, I just wanna see their duel is that too much to ask I'm dying over here (if this lenga lenga continues until ep 25 i will be so mad bc why were so many episodes wasted on such boring and and not necessary side characters backstories?? idc about them at all man aaaaaaaaaa)

↳ ep 25 was good finally we got what we deserve boys 😭😭😭😭😭 can utena just beat up akio already I'm tired of his ass, he exhales both "I'm a feminist I even take women studies classes #herstory" and "if she breathes she's a thot" energy also he has 0 style that mullet is simply horrible I bet there's a hairstylist community who considers him a criminal bc like 😐 it is simply so bad (q bit less when it's tied up but when it's all lose jesus Christ)

also touga thinks he's suuuuch a genius, sooo smart like king, I do not care about you at all can you shut the fuck up please and can we tall about the pink haired guy episode?? wack. honestly thought it would be more emotional or something, I binge watched 12 episodes with his ugly haircut face and did not even feel a thing he can choke I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ANTHY TAKING A SWORD OUT OF UTENA'S CHEST??? OSCAR WORTHY KINGS❗❗❗and then her lame ass brother being like "oh ho ho idk idk" shut up no one cares no one cares I swear to you no one cares shut uuuuup

ep 25-39

first of all, ep 25 was good but kinda reminded me of the nine episodes (13 until 21) where absolutely nothing interesting happened so I hope I'm wrong also can I just say just seeing the preview of the next episode made me roll my eyes so bad I almsot saw my brain?? bc yeah I'm fucking tired of nanami fosuced episodes she's so annoying oh my god nobody cares about a goddamn egg and much less one coming from her let her die or something pls she's so annoying there's nothing I've learned about her that was not against my own will I'm basically rotting over here 🤒

↳ ep 30 has me thinking Akio has a foot fetish or something 😐 bruh leave utena aloooooone I already know your plans and schemes you're not fooling anyone that's embarrassing for u and also... utena you're not very bright are you.... you start seeing every duelist you face with the same exact car and then when you see akio has the same car you didnt even stop to think about it that 1+1 equals 2 ... girl help yourself 😐

↳ yet again another nanami focused ep 😐😐😐😐😐 even though I do understand her better now I still don't find her particularly enjoyable to watch, call me a woman hater but like. idk she's still a bit annoying to me (but touga is straight up evil and is manipulating her so I feel bad for feeling like that tho.....)

↳ ok last 2 eps to go but listen. I thought the akio duel would have happened much sooner, maybe on ep 33 max but well didn't this age well lmao ngl, it did seem a bit too slow paced for my personal taste but also I feel like there's a certain level of drama that comes with slowing the pace down....

↳ aaaaaa yall I'm kinda 😢😭 over the ending omg........... even though it took the best of me to keep going in some parts I still enjoyed the ending aaaaa I thought i wouldnt really like it bc I just usually dont enjoy this type of ending but stil 😢😢😢😢 wait for me utena 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 girl I cried and then anthy walking in the end god utena and anthy holding hands 😭😭😭😭 akio can suck my dick

there's obviously many things I've missed or that I kinda didnt really pay attendance to so please dont take this serious, I was just writing as I watched the episodes so it's more like a thought compilation than anything, still I can see why there's many essays written about it and why it is held as a masterpiece by so many people

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 53

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

“Hey,” Kyle greets his sister, as she steps out onto the back deck. “Sleeping beauty! How you feeling?”

“I'm not sure yet,” she admits, using the hand without the IV in to rub sleep from her eyes. “I've got a hell of a headache. But I'm not nauseous for the first time in forever and the dizziness is gone.”

“Headache's probably from the concussion. That's pretty normal. Sounds like the medication he gave you for the puking and the fainting is working so far.”

“I'm getting tired of this goddamn thing already,” she complains, and nods down at the portable IV device slung over her shoulder.

“Well start drinking and eating and keeping it all down and they'll take it out sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah, well if I could think about food without the nausea coming back, I'd eat.  Maybe that'll be next. Where I can actually think about it or look at it without feeling sick,” she sinks down into the chair beside him.  “What time is it?”

“Almost one in the afternoon. You must have needed the rest. You've been out since last night.”

“Jesus...” she presses the heel of her palm into one eyes, than the other. “...I feel like I could keep sleeping. I was up for a little while this morning but I drifted off again.”

“Tyler get in?”

“Yeah, around eight thirty-ish? He's still sleeping. Where's Nik?”

“Went into town to get us some lunch.”

“Oh really...” she stares at him pointedly.  “...us as in you two or as in you two and her people?”

“Us as in me and her.”

“I see. So what's up? Are you two hooking up or...?”

“We're getting to know each other.  We're not going to pull a 'you and Tyler'.  Although I bet those five days were a lot of fun.”

“You have no idea. Five days with him was enough to make me forget anyone else that ever came before him. So you like her? You think she likes you? Come on, spill the beans. I want details.”

“There are no details to give you. We're still in the getting to know you stage. We stayed up pretty late last night.”

“Just talking or...”

“Yes, Esme. Just talking. Like I said, we aren't pulling a 'you and Tyler'. I do have to admit though, I am kind of jealous. What guy doesn't want a situation like that happening?”

“What guy doesn't want to go and rescue the kidnapped son of a drug lord for another drug lord?”

“That's obviously not what I want. I mean having a woman right there....for five days...that can't keep her hands off of him. I mean, it's gross that my sister was the woman, but that is what I call one lucky sonofabitch. Goes into there to do a job...”

“And gets a job,” she finishes with a smirk. “More than one a day, actually.”

“Okay, that I did not need to know.  If you're hungry, I can text her and get her to pick you something up. Just say the word.”

“Oh, we're onto text messaging now. Kyle, you don't normally give women your cell number. Half the time you don't even get first names. You're more the fuck and duck type. You must be really into her.”

“Yeah,” his smile broadens.  “I guess I am. She's something else. Totally unlike anyone else I've ever met.”

“Well she's not a blond with big boobs for one. Or a bar slut.  So she would be unlike anyone you've ever met. You better make your move before this job is over. She's not going to hang around Colorado forever, you know. Because eventually all this crazy shit is going to end and she's going to back to what she normally does. And you don't want that to happen without making a move, do you?”

“I think you need to worry about your personal life.”

“What personal life? I'm married. I have four kids. I have one in the oven. I don't have a personal life. I have to live vicariously through you. And, if I'm being honest, I think Nik would be good for you. She's beautiful, she's strong, insanely intelligent. She has her own thing going on and doesn't need a man's help so she won't be clingy and suffocating.  She has her own place....a beautiful place, I may add...so she won't constantly be on your doorstep and be wanting to move in. What more could you possibly want?”

“Well, she'd have to want me, so there's that.”

“What's not to want? You're my brother but even I can admit you're a super good looking guy, you work out a lot so you've got the whole big shoulders and big arms thing going on, you're funny, you're compassionate, you're strong. And you're a firefighter. What woman does not like firefighters? I can't think of a single on. You guys would be perfect for each other! You're totally unlike any guy she's been with, I can tell you that much.”

“Yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because I know a couple she's been with and I've heard stories of others. She's either been with much older businessmen or guys she's met on the job.”

“Mercenaries? What would she want with a firefighter, then?”

“What wouldn't she want with a firefighter? They're brave, they're bad ass, they're strong as fuck.  That all makes for a very sexy and appealing man, if I do say so myself. Fuck mercenaries. I mean, not all of them obviously, because I married one. But he's in a league of his own and not like the others, trust me.  Nik is perfect for you. And you're perfect for her.  So quit being a whiny bitch baby and make your move! Get her away from Mark, before he pulls his bullshit with her too.”

“She'd probably kill Mark if he even tried with her.”

“Likely. But don't let it come to that. Make a move. Or I will do it for you. I will ask her out for you.”

His eyes narrow. “You wouldn't.”

“Oh yes, I would. Don't put it past me. I'm not above embarrassing the shit out of you. It's time to get your personal life together. Enough with the bar sluts and the random hook ups.  You need a real woman! Someone who can keep you in line! Who has her shit together.  Whose independent and strong and just kick ass. Do it! What the hell are you waiting for?”

“Isn't she technically here on work? Wouldn't that be unprofessional?”

“Who cares? Do you think what Tyler and I did  while we were 'working' was professional? We didn't give a shit. We did it anyway. We did it a lot, actually.”

“That's a very good point. Maybe I was going to set my standards higher than yours,” he teases.

“Bruh, you have no idea what that five days was like. Do not knock it.  You probably haven't had an entire year that could measure up to that five days. I'm just saying.”

“I do not need to know these things about you guys. I mean, I know you guys have sex. Obviously. You have four kids and one on the way. But I don't need to know what kind of sex you guys have.”

“You sure? Because I've got stories that will make you even you blush. You want some Tyler stories? He'd kill me for telling you them, but I have stories for you. That that man's sexual prowess is second to none and he has crazy good stamina.”

Kyle grimaces. “Okay, that's enough. I do not need to know this stuff about my sister and my brother in law. As far as I'm concerned, you've had sex four times and that's when the kids were conceived. That's all I want to think about, okay? Do not put imagines in my head. I'll never have sex again if I get imagines like that in my head. And I'd like to have sex again.”

“With Nik? Come on. It's with Nik, isn't it.”

“What's with Nik?” the woman in question asks, as she steps out onto the deck.

“My brother's balls,” Esme chirps. “They're in your purse, aren't they.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle mutters, shaking his head.

“Don't be embarrassed,” Nik says. “I'm used to her. That's nothing compared  to some of the things that I've heard come out of that cute little mouth.  And considering what she puts into that mouth...”

“That's a penis reference in case you didn't get that, Kyle,” Esme teases.

“No I got that. And now I have an image of my sister and my brother in law in my head that I will never get out, until the day I die. And then I'll take it my grave and it will haunt me in the afterlife.”

“Kyle is very sensitive when it comes to any thought of me having sex,” Esme explains to Nik. “Even though I'm married. And I have four kids and one is currently baking. He does not like to think about how I got babies in me.”

“No, I don't it,” he grimaces. “Not at all. So if you could stop...”

“Tyler still sleeping?” Nik asks, as she sits two paper bags in the middle of the patio table and begins unpacking Styrofoam containers of take out.

Esme nods. “He'll probably be out for a while. Jet lag sometimes hits him pretty hard. And his body's trying to get used to being back on the Valium and it takes a bit for him to adjust.”

“He still have that weird haircut?” Kyle asks, as he pushes himself up out of the chair and joins Nik at the table, standing alongside of her.

“Excuse you? Weird haircut? That's his best hair cut yet. And sexy as fuck. So you bite your tongue.”

She notices the way her brother and Nik interact; the little smiles they exchange, the way their shoulders are pressed together, how she leans into him and he briefly lays a hand on the small of her back.

“If he's back on the Valium, do you think he'll be okay in New Zealand?” Nik inquires. “Is that enough time for him to adjust?”

“Should he even be going?”  Kyle counters. “I mean, my sister just got out of the hospital.”

“I was not in the hospital,” Esme says. “I was looked at at the hospital. And Tyler and I haven't talked about this yet. About New Zealand. I think that's the first conversation about it I should have. With him.”

“It doesn't matter if you were actually in the hospital or not,” her brother argues, and hands her a plate of food. “I texted her while we were talking,” he explains, when Esme arches an eyebrow. “Try to eat, kid. That little peanut needs you to eat. Or you will get admitted and you'll be in there a while.”

“You're a pain in my ass, K,” she responds, but gives him an appreciative smile.

“Like I was saying,” he continues. “It doesn't matter if you were in there or not. You're having issues and...”

“Fainting is not having issues. And I fainted because I was dehydrated and my blood pressure was high.”

“You have a concussion and seven stitches in your head,” he points out. “And there could be something wrong. With either you or the baby. We need to be realistic here. It's a possibility. Whether you want to admit it or not. So why take the chance? Why should he go back when he's got all these things going on at home?”

“Because he needs to,” Esme reluctantly admits, and Nik nods in agreement as she sits down beside her. “As much as I hate to admit it and my heart is breaking just thinking about him leaving and going there, it's what's best for him.”

“I don't get how that makes any sense,” Kyle says. “What's best for him is staying here. With you. Especially when you're having issues.”

“What's he going to do, K? Other than sit around here and worry about me. He can't stop what's happening. There's nothing he can actually do about it.”

“There's going to be doctors appointments, test results coming in,” Kyle points out, as he sits to Esme's left. “Shouldn't he be here for that stuff? He's going to want to be here. You can't tell me he won't want to be here.”

“He will,” she says. “But what's best for him is to go to New Zealand and get those kids.”

“I'm not understanding how that's  what's best for him. Isn't this going to be dangerous?”

“Very,” Nik confirms.

“So isn't it better he doesn't go? What happens if something goes wrong. And Emse, I know you hate even thinking about it, let alone talking about it, but there's a very real possibly he could get seriously hurt. Or worse. Is that a risk you want to take? Is that a risk he'd want to take it? That something happens and he doesn't get a chance to meet this baby? I don't see him wanting to take that chance. He's not that selfish. You can't tell me he is.”

“At this point, it doesn't matter what Tyler wants,” Nik speaks up. “It's about what we know is best for him. And Esme knows what's best for him. Probably even more than he does.”

She nods. “Believe me, I don't want him to go. Selfishly, I want him to stay. I want him home. For good.  But I know he needs to do this. He needs to get those kids out of there and get them somewhere safe. Because he will ever forgive himself if he doesn't. If he doesn't go, it's always going to be on his mind that he didn't go there and he didn't get them out. Their blood will be on his hands. And that will haunt him for the rest of his life and I don't...” her voice cracks with emotion.  “....I don't want that for him. I don't want that on his conscience. He'd never be the same.  I'm trying to get him healthy. Mentally. And not going for those kids and having that in his brain? That would break him. And I don't want that happening to him.”

“It's okay...” Nik's voice is soft, soothing, as she reaches out to rub her friend's back in comfort.  “...just try and stay calm.”

“Isn't there someone else?” Kyle asks. “That can do this? Instead of someone with so much to lose?”

“It can't be anyone else,” Esme replies. “It can't. It has to be Tyler. He's the one who accepted this job, he's the one whose been working on it, he has to be the one to go and get them. And I know it doesn't make sense to you, Kyle. You're worried about what will happen to me and the kids if he doesn't come back. And I get that. I do. Because I worry about it every time he walks out the door when he takes a job. But this isn't any job, This is the job that will break him if he doesn't get it done. You don't understand what is going on with him. What's going on in his head.  But I do.  I know him a lot better than you do. So I need you to back off and trust me.  I'm doing what's best for him. Whether you understand why or not.”

“I'm just worried about you, kid. And him. This sounds like some serious shit he's getting himself into.  He's got you and he's got his kids...”

“Kyle, please,” Esme begs. “You need to just back off. I've been living this life for five and a half years. I've been with this man through some really bad shit. That you can't even begin to imagine. And he needs to do this.  You have to trust me when I say that.  I know what I'm talking about. You don't live this life. With him. But I do. And this is what has to happen.”

“Okay...” he reluctantly surrenders. “...I'll cave. I'll trust you. But I still think it's a stupid fucking idea. And he probably will too.”

“You really don't know Tyler that well,” Esme gives a small laugh. “He's already thought of all the possible ways to get those kids out. About all the things that could wrong and how he can counteract them. Once he's this deep into a job, it's an obsession. Even more so with there being kids involved. It won't take much convincing to get him to go.”

Her brother sighs. “I really hope you know what you're doing, kid. Because this could go wrong. So very, very wrong. Are you prepared for that? Just in case?”

“I've been ready for the worst for five and a half years,”  she admits. “You don't think we've considered everything? That we don't have things in place if someone does happen to him? He's not a stupid man. He has everything thought out. Everything planned. In case something does happen. Am I ready for the worst? To live my life without him? Of course I'm not. It's the last thing I want. But he's thought of everything, and the kids and I will be fine if it does happen.”

“But we're going to do everything we can so that doesn't happen,” Nik pipes up. “He has great people watching his back.”

“You're really not going to trust Mark with him are you?” Kyle asks. “He's the last person any of you should trust. He'd kill Tyler before he'd help him. No question about it.”

“We've got two other people,” she says. “Two Marines. He has a rapport with Nathan. And he's a good kid and he's loyal to Tyler in the very short period of time they've known each other.  I'll tell Yaz to make sure that is the one that goes in to help. We need two. There's no way Tyler can get two kids and himself out of there safely. Especially if there's resistance.”

“And there will be,” Esme speaks up. “Resistance. No doubt about it. The Buckmans are not going to just let him walk in there and take those kids.”

“You think they already know he's coming?” Nik asks.

“I know they do. They just don't know when he's going to show up. But they know he's on his way. Especially after what he did at McMann's house to some of their people. “

Kyle frowns. “Who are the Buckmans?”

“An organized crime family in New Zealand,” Esme replies. “Don't ask. It's a very long story. But they're vicious and they're violent and they are not going to let him take those kids peacefully. They're going to fight back. And he knows that.”

“This keeps getting worse and worse,” Kyle grumbles. “And you seriously want him to go into this?”

“I don't want him to go,” his sister responds. “But I know he has to.”

***

He feels her climb into bed beside him; eyes closed as he listens to her mutter profanities about the IV stuck in her hand and the medical contraption she's being forced to carry around with her.  She settles down next to him, on her side with her head resting on his collarbone and her hand on his stomach, and he brings his hand up to gently rest on the top of her head.  Careful to mind the stitches and now very prominent bump that accompanies them.

“You're in my spot,” she says.

“Actually, this is my spot. It's been my spot for four years now.”

“When you're not here it becomes my spot.  I always sleep in your spot. I like sleeping in all your little grooves and your indents.”

He grins. “I can't figure out if that's endearing or super creepy.”

“Fuck you, it's endearing. It makes me feel closer to you. Especially when I can smell you on your pillow. You don't do stuff like that? When I'm not around?”

“When are you ever not around? When I'm home, you're home. So...”

“Is that a complaint? That sounds like a complaint.”

“That is definitely not a complaint,” he assures her, and presses a kiss to her forehead. “There was one time....when you were in the hospital after the twins were born...that I slept with your pillow,” he admits.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Things were scary and the twins weren't doing well and I had to stay here with Millie and I felt like shit about it. Made me feel better to sleep with your pillow. I don't know why...” he shrugs. “...it just did.”

“Tyler Rake, you big softie.  Everyone else thinks you're so big and bad all the time and I know all the cute little shit you say and do. I should write a book.”

“No, you shouldn't. There's some things we need to keep just between us. People do not need to know those things.”

“Like how you always cry when the kids are watching The Fox and the Hound?”

“Okay, for the record, that's a very sad fucking movie. And I only cry at the part when the old lady leaves Todd in the woods.”

“You even know his name?” she teases. “Baby, you're so cute. You're not as alpha male as you and other people think you are. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I won't tell anyone that Disney movies make you cry.”

“It's one movie. One. And I never would have known about it if you didn't buy it for the kids and your one son....who shall remain nameless...wouldn't stop watching it for three months. And he'd come bawling to me every time that part came on and make me sit and watch it with him because it said made him feel better if I sat with him. That's not what it was. That little shit just didn't want to be alone in his misery.”

“That's it, throw Junior under the bus.  I told you he's just like you.  He even cries at the same things. Didn't you both cry watching Iron Giant too?”

“I did not cry. I had something in my eyes.”

“Sure you did,” she laughs, and places a kiss on the side of his neck.   “Didn't you cry watching Gladiator?”

“That was a bitch move Commodus pulled on my boy Russell Crowe and you know it.  And you're the one that cries at commercials so you're the last one who should be on me about sad movies. How many times have you had to ask me to change channel because those ASPCA commercials and you get all weepy over the animals? Hundreds. Thousands. Every time one comes on. And then I have to listen to you go into a sob story about your golden retriever when you were growing up.”

She rests her chin on his chest and glares up at him. “Don't you bring Max into this. He was the goodest good boy ever and my mom only got rid of him because Kyle kept bringing home bad report cards and because he was so 'stupid' as she called him, she hit him where it hurt the most and got rid of his dog. He was never the same after that.”

“So that's what's wrong with him.”

“Well there's a lot wrong with him, but that's besides the point. Why would you do that? Bring Max into things. Now look...”  she sniffles, tears sparkling in her eyes, lower lip wobbling.  “...you're a horrible person.”

He can't help but chuckle, and then gives an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to make you cry.”

“Yes you did. I swear you enjoy it. You're a masochist.”

“Wouldn't that make a me a sadist? If I enjoy making you cry?”

“It makes you an asshole is what it makes you,” she huffs, and he bites back a laugh and moves his hand to the back of her head and pushes her face down to his chest.

“I'm sorry.  I do not like making you cry and you know it. And I'm sorry your mom got rid of your dog because your brother's a dumb ass.”

“I told she's psychotic. I told you!”

“If it wouldn't make us brother and sister, I'd say hook her up with my dad. They'd be perfect for each other. They could just make each other miserable and leave everyone else alone.”

“As much as I'd enjoy the two of them torturing each other, I do not want to be related to you. That's a level of Jerry Springer Show red neck shit I do not want to get involved with.”

“There's probably porn about that. Husband and wife who are also step brother and  step sister.”

“You'd know. That's probably the weird shit you look up.”

“I do not watch porn.”

“You're a fucking liar.  We've watched it together.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Oh yeah...I remember that...you were into it way more than I was.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“I am sorry. That I brought the dog into things. And that your mom's a psycho. You won't have to worry about that much longer. Once we get fuck out of here. She's going to lose her shit, you know. When she finds out we're leaving.”

“She just told me that we're all dead to her. She won't give a shit.”

“Babe, tomorrow she's going to call and she's going to try and convince you that she never said those things or try and get you to believe that she didn't mean them the way you took them or that you're overreacting. It's the same bullshit every time she does something like this.”

“I'm starting to think she's the reason why Sarge is the way he is.”

“You're just starting to think that? I've been thinking that since I met her. She's messed up. And you think you have issues.”

“I do. I have one big issue. That's six foot three and two hundred and ten pounds.”

“Two twenty.”

“Is the extra ten pounds your middle aged spread?”

He scowls. “I'm not middle aged. Sixty is middle aged.”

“Tyler, no one lives to be a hundred and twenty.”

“Is that a challenge? That sounds like a challenge.”

“Look, as much as I want you to live to a ripe old age, we both know you're not making it that long. Because you know one day I'm going to snap and I will kill you long before you get there. And it's going to be a lot sooner if you don't stop leaving your dirty laundry in front of the hamper instead of putting them inside. You've been warned. About a hundred times in the past month alone. Is that really the hill you want to die on?”

“Maybe it is. Maybe it's like death by cop.  Put yourself in the line of fire so someone else does the dirty work for you.”

“I can think of other more pressing things to kill you over than dirty laundry,” she says, and snuggles her face into the space between his neck and shoulder. “And I haven't killed you yet so I think it's safe to safe that it's not going to happen. That as much as you drive me batshit insane, I'd rather you be here than do that than not be here at all.”

He smiles at that, then presses his lips to her forehead. “You good? Feeling okay?”

“Well I did eat. Not a lot but I did get some into me and I haven't thrown it up. I think those meds are working. To stop the puking. But I have a killer headache.”

“It's the concussion. It'll go away in a couple of days. Where does it hurt?”

She reaches up to move his hand to her forehead, so his thumb sits between the edge of her eyebrow and the side of her nose.  “Don't press too hard. You don't know your own strength half the time.” And she gives a long, content sigh when his thumb presses into the tender spot and begins massaging in firm, slow circles. “I've been taking care of you and kids for so long, I forgot how nice it is to have someone take care of me.”

“Well, I try. But you don't let me do it, so....”

“I could get used to this,” she gives another sigh.  “You can stick around. You're useful after all.”

He grins and drops a kiss on the top of her head.

“I told Kyle,” she says.

“About?”

“You. About what you do.”

“You mean other than drive you crazy and give you awesome dick?”

She nods. “I told him about you. About what you do for a living. That it isn't private security. That you're actually a mercenary. Don't be mad. I know we agreed to not tell people.”

“We agreed to not tell people five and a half years ago. It doesn't matter who knows now. This is it. The last job. Once I'm done, I'm done. Doesn't matter if anyone knows.”

“You promise? That this is it? That a year from now you're not going to get bored and go back to it?”

“I promise. Once this is over, that guy won't exist anymore.”

“He'll never disappear entirely, Tyler. That's impossible. He'll always be a part of you. And that's not a bad thing. That guy? That Tyler? He's not a horrible person. I mean, he's the guy that I fell in love to begin with, right? That wouldn't have happened if he was a terrible person.”

“Maybe you just have shitty taste in men,” he teases, and she laughs against his neck.

“I don't want him disappearing entirely,” she says. “Because there's parts of him that I really like. That I want to stick around. That I need to stick around.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“He's strong. Fearless. He'd do anything to protect me and the kids.”

“It doesn't need to be the old Tyler to be those things. That's just part of who I am.”

“Then hang onto that part, okay? Because I'm so lucky to have that part. We've had our issues. But there's never been a time where I didn't feel safe with you. I've always trusted that part of you. That nothing would happen to me or the kids.”

“Nothing will,” he assures her. “You're safe with me. You're all safe with me.”

“I know. And I know what you're capable of doing to do people, so I feel sorry for anyone that even tries to hurt me or the kids. It'll be different. When we go back to Australia. We can find a little town to move to. Where no one knows us. Where it's quiet and peaceful and we can just start over. Where no one knows our past and we're just the new family in town.  Where we can have a normal life.”

“Have you met our kids? They are far from normal.  No one will ever think we're normal. Trust me.”

“Especially you with that hair cut,” she teases.

“Excuse me? This hair cut is only here because you insist I keep it this way.”

“I do love it,” she says, and reaches up to push her fingers through the longer strands.  “You need to tidy it up.  Shave the sides and the back. You're starting to look shaggy again.”

“I might shave my beard off though.”

“Do it and I file for divorce. That's the only warning you're getting.”

He chuckles at that.

“Your kids wouldn't even recognize you. You've always had a beard. With all of them. Millie would probably cry. She'd need therapy for sure.”

“Never mind her. You'd probably cry and need therapy.”

“Yeah,” she giggles. “That's not a lie.”

“What did he say? Kyle. When you told him about what I do?”

“Well, he initially wanted to kick your ass. Which would be hilarious to see him try, you have to admit. He's a big boy and he's tough, but he wouldn't last long against you. Maybe you can kick his ass because it's his fault my mom got rid of Max.”

“Not that again. Try to stay on track here, okay? Your ADHD is showing. It's like a dog that can't concentrate because he keeps seeing a squirrel.”

“Why do you keep comparing me to animals? First it's an angry goat and now it's a dog who loves squirrels.”

“Look, I don't have the brain pan you do. I go with what I know. You're the brains of this operation, not me. So, focus. What did your brother say?”

“After he said he wanted to kick your ass?”

He sighs.  As much as he loves her and would readily and willingly die for her, sometimes having what should be a simple conversation turns into a massive test of patience. “Yes.”

“I don't think he really believed me at first. I mean, that's kind of a messed up thing to hear. That your brother in law does that sort of thing. But I told him all about Dhaka and what happened there and it helped him understand things. He's fine with it. Well, as fine with it as someone can be, I guess.  I don't think he wants to kick your ass anymore.”

“He could try. But...”

“Yeah, no killing my brother, okay? He's the only brother I actually like. He okay with it...” she rubs his stomach. “...he knows it's what you do, not who you are. And he trusts me to make the right decisions. For myself and the kids. And this is the right decision. You're the right decision. I wouldn't have stuck around this long if you weren't.”

“Well I'm glad you did. Stick around.”

She draws back and smiles at him. “Yeah?”

Tyler nods. “Even if I am an asshole that makes you cry sometimes.”

“For what's worth, you make me smile and laugh way more than you make me cry. And you make me do other things too.”

“Yeah? What other things?”

“Oh, you know...”she slides her hand over his stomach and abs and then down onto the front of his boxers.

“You need me to leave me alone,” he informs her, and grabbing a hold  of her hand, moves it back up to his stomach.

“That's a first. You saying that. Normally I'm telling you to leave me alone at the most ungodly hours.”

“Yeah...well...” he frowns when her hand slips down again, once more taking hold of it. “...you need to stop...”

“No,” she says, and then her lips and her tongue on the side of his neck.

He momentarily gives it. Grip on her hand releasing, throat tightening, feeling that familiar stirring below the waist. But then he sees that IV line in her hand. “Stop...” he pushes her away.  “...you seriously need to stop and leave me alone...”  he tosses the blankets off of him and reluctantly climbs out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she asks innocently.

“To take a cold shower,” he grumbles, and then disappears into the ensuite bathroom.