#started questioning my own sanity Jesus Christ I started wondering if someone on here had fucking narrated it and it had somehow reached

[tom-bakers-scarf]

Spotted this in a second hand bookshop and the whiplash I felt was so strong that I think I’ve discovered another 12 stages of grief

[aggravatetheaxe]

BO SINCLAIR X READER - Waffle House Pt. 1

You're a server at the south's greatest and best-loved institution: Waffle House. The graveyard shift can be tough, but you can usually find ways to entertain yourself. Turns out tonight's entertainment is named Bo, and he wants to know if you're on the menu.

I wrote this especially for my friend Zin! This title is SAFE FOR WORK. Pt. 2 is NSFW (and in Bo's POV!)

Soundtrack: Diner Ambience ; Rain ; Faint Hard Rock

Words: 3,269

Part 2

Part 3

Masterlist

***

READER POV

It was raining when he came in, a light rain that tapped on the windows and made you want to leave your shift at Waffle House early to crawl into your warm bed. He was just some guy—average, white, brown hair, blue eyes. And yet you felt compelled to watch him as he tapped his dripping boots against the door and shook out his hat.

Wow.

You were new to the overnight shift. It was mostly truckers coming up and down the interstate, guys who just wanted to tuck into a warm meal and leave. They tipped well, too, so you didn't mind. It wasn't like your sleep schedule wasn't fucked anyway. May as well make some money while you were up all night.

This was the first time you'd had a physical reaction to any guy who'd walked in. You completely forgot about the orange juice you were in the process of putting away. You could feel your heart race as he gazed around the restaurant, and when his eyes found yours and he flashed you that grin?

Wow.

He took a seat at the breakfast bar, right in front of you, like he could sense your pulse quickening. "Evenin'."

Right, you were supposed to greet him. "Hi, there. Can I getcha some coffee?"

"That'd be real welcome, [miss / sir]." His crow's feet wrinkled, and he set his hat aside on the counter. His twang sounded so good mixing with the classic rock pouring from the speakers that you had to bite your lip to keep from sighing. "Sure is comin' down out there."

"Yeah," you agreed with a breathless laugh. God, did you sound stupid? You turned quickly, retrieving a mug and the fresh pot you'd just finished brewing. "How do you like it?"

"If you bring me the fixin's, I'll do it up," he said easily. When you turned and handed him the mug, his eyes found your chest, staring at your name tag for an extended moment. Then, his gaze crawled to yours. "Y/N."

Your face was so hot you wondered if he could see you blushing. Rather than say anything stupid, you practically shoved ramekins of creams and sugars at him, then mumbled some excuse or another before disappearing into the kitchen.

Pressed against the wall, you took a few deep breaths. You saw a hundred men every shift, some of them quite handsome, and yet this guy was standing out to you. Why, you had no idea, but you had a table of college kids to wait on and three other people at the counter ... you couldn't be fixated on this one person.

The cook glanced up at you, then did a double take, frowning. "You okay? Look like you're about to pass out."

Worried your Average Man had heard him, you cleared your throat and announced, "I was just getting some straws," before grabbing a handful and exiting.

You shoved the straws in your apron, trying to avoid eye contact with the man ... but as you poured refills and took orders, you found it hard not to glance over at him. He was just sitting, enjoying his coffee, but every so often, you could feel him watching you from the corner of his eye.

You knew you couldn't put off talking to him for long. You had to take his order, after all, and he'd been patient. As you walked back to him, he looked up, smiling brightly. "Welcome back."

"Thanks." Why were you thanking him? Jesus Christ, you sounded like an idiot. "Ready to order?"

He laughed a little, carding a hand through his slightly damp curls. "Once you give me a menu, darlin', I reckon I won't be long."

"Oh, sh— shoot." You scrambled to grab him a menu, slapping it down in front of him. "Sorry. It's been a long night."

"No worries." As he flipped the menu open, he nodded to his coffee cup. "Can I get some more a that, sweetpea?"

"Of course." Man, you were really fucking up this serving thing tonight.

By the time you'd grabbed the pot and refilled him, he'd set the menu down and was ready with two white packets between his fingers. He tore them both open in one motion, then looked at you, smirking. "Extra sugar. Don't tell."

Shit, you can have all the sugar you want. But your mouth was not half as dirty as your mind, and so you just smiled back, trying so hard to keep from giggling. "So, what'll it be?"

"I'll get the, uh ... Texas bacon patty melt with hashbrowns."

"Sure. How you want those hashbrowns?"

"Just plain. Actually, make 'em smothered. Oh, an' a side of biscuits 'n' gravy, please."

"You got it." You jotted the order down quickly and passed it through the kitchen window, readying yourself to move on to the next customer for your own sanity.

But it was the man's voice that drew you back to the counter: "Hey..."

You turned. He was about to ask you a question, you could tell from the tone of his voice. "What's up?"

"I'm not really from around here." His smile was friendly enough, but his shocking blue eyes seemed almost calculating. "S'pretty late, an' I don't feel like sleepin' in the truck again. You know any good motels 'round here?"

It didn't even occur to you in the moment that he could be flirting. "Well, there's a Motel 6 not far from here ... a Red Roof a few miles down the interstate. Those'll probably be your best options in terms of good quality."

His expression shifted a bit, but then his smile widened, crow's feet wrinkling again. "All right. Thanks, sugar."

Sugar. You weren't new to being called that—you lived in the south, after all—but something about the way he said it...

You tried to get him off your mind the rest of the night, but it was kind of difficult. Even after he'd finished his food, he lingered, draining coffees and flipping through a newspaper someone had left on the stool next to him. He got up to go to the restroom a couple times, but besides that, he stayed planted right in front of you, where it was impossible to ignore him.

It was an hour and thirty minutes later that your shift ended. You gathered your things, and as you headed toward the door, you weren't surprised to find him still there.

For some reason, only then did his lingering presence give you pause. Why was he hanging around a Waffle House at 3 a.m., anyway? He'd said he wasn't from around here ... had he gotten kicked out or something? Chosen a direction on the interstate and just started going?

Poor guy. You bit your lip, going back and forth with yourself for a few moments before your pity won out. "Hey, sir."

He looked over his shoulder, forehead wrinkling.

"Um, you take care. Lindsey'll ring you up whenever you're ready."

He cracked a smile and waved. "Take care, darlin'."

You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at those words.

The sky was just beginning to turn the color of dusk, but it was still raining as you exited the restaurant and headed to your car. Your keys jingled as you wrestled them out of the pocket of your jacket. It took you a moment to find the keyhole in the driver's side door, squinting through the rain like you were.

The inside of the car was blissfully dry, and as you slammed the door and blocked out the pounding rain, you closed your eyes and pushed out a long breath. It was time to go home—have some dinner of your own, maybe some tea, then collapse in bed.

That thought finally moved you to put the key in the ignition and turn.

And turn.

...And turn.

Well, you were the only one turning, because the engine certainly fucking wasn't.

Dread crawled up your spine and gripped the back of your neck. What? How could something like this happen? You'd just paid through the nose for a ton of repairs and an inspection. How could your engine just...

Anxiety floated you as you climbed out of the car, braving the rain to look under the hood. But hell, you barely knew which one was the engine, let alone how to fix it if it was broken. Your hands shook as you fumbled for the hood prop, heat climbing your face and stinging your eyes. How were you gonna get this fixed? How would you even afford it? Below minimum wage and tips from truckers wasn't going to cut it.

You turned, leaning against the side of the car and taking your cellphone from your other pocket. The tears finally fell once you realized that you didn't have anyone to call. You slammed the hood of the car and covered your face.

"Hey."

The voice, raised over the downpour, made you jump. You'd been standing in the rain for a few minutes, sobbing your eyes out, and you were completely soaked through. The rain and the heat of your tears fogged your glasses so bad, you couldn't see who was there no matter how you squinted.

"Hey," he said again, much closer now. You recognized the twang.

Quickly, you grabbed your glasses off, wiping them against your shirt before replacing them. You could see the Average Man much more clearly now, watching you but keeping his distance.

"Hi," you managed, sniffling hard.

His face fell. In a few seconds, he was beside you, offering you a hanky from his back pocket. With a little mumble of thanks, you wiped your face and blew your nose. The hanky smelled like motor oil and musk. He was close enough for you to smell him, too, feel the heat coming off his body.

For some reason, that made you cry harder.

He clicked his tongue above you. "Why you cryin', darlin'? It's pourin' out; you're gonna get soaked."

"My ... my car," you managed, gesturing helplessly.

"Oh? Somethin' wrong with your car?"

"Yeah. And I don't know jack shit except the model and year." You vented your frustration in a hard exhale, wringing his hanky. "I just got it inspected, too."

The man paused for a moment. "Well, hey, I'm a mechanic. I could take a look if ya like."

You raised your head, wiping your glasses again. "I— no, it's fine. It's raining out, you don't have to..."

"I don't mind," he said dismissively, opening the hood with one hand and propping it up. "Pretty thing like you shouldn't cry like that."

Again, you found yourself staring at him. This man definitely gave off an ... energy, calling you pretty while fixing your car. For a stranger, he was certainly taking control of a situation he hadn't even been aware of a minute ago. You'd been well aware he was attractive and compelling, but this was a whole new level. You were so taken off guard you couldn't think of a response.

"Go ahead and climb in front," the man said, waving you that way. "Try 'n' start it when I knock on the window."

"Okay." You slid into the front seat again, waiting for his command. He knocked once, and you turned the key.

No luck. You hesitated before knocking back.

Another knock. No luck. After the third, he rapped on the driver's side window instead, and you opened the door for him.

He was soaked. His clothes were drenched to his skin, his hair curling wildly around his ears and forehead. "No luck, darlin'. Think your engine's shot."

You felt your face crumple, any hope you'd had now crushed. It was four-something in the morning. Where were you going to get a ride home let alone a tow truck? And then how were you going to pay for it all?

"You gonna be okay?"

His words shook you out of your reverie. Your chest felt cold and numb ... the beginnings of a panic attack starting to take hold. "I just ... I don't know what I'm gonna..." You clenched your hands, freezing and trembling, and inhaled shakily.

"Listen," he said after a few moments, glancing up at the sky. "It's real shitty out, if you'll pardon my French, an' I don't feel right leavin' you all alone out here..." He sighed, almost grimacing. "You want a ride? I can getcha home, you can rest an' make your phone calls in the mornin'."

Getting into a stranger's car ... it was the most stereotypical thing in the world, but you didn't see any way you could turn down the offer. He seemed nice enough, and if it came down to it, you could run if not defend yourself...

At this point, you'd risk anything to be somewhere warm and cozy instead of in this stupid, freezing parking lot.

"I don't want to ... inconvenience you," you said weakly.

"It's no bother." His smile tightened a bit. "I'd rather you say yes or no so I can get out of this downpour."

You slipped out of your car, shutting and locking it behind you. Hopefully it would be alright for the night. "As long as you don't mind, mister."

The man simply smirked in response, slamming your hood and heading for his truck. It was a beat-up Chevy in dire need of a paint job, but it was running, which was more than you could say for your own vehicle. He opened the passenger side door, then shut it behind you, hurrying himself out of the rain. The pickup's vintage interior smelled faintly of cigarettes as you slid into place, buckling in.

He swore softly as he climbed in beside you and started the truck. Heat blasted through the air vents, and you relaxed a little. It smelled musty and old in here, but the engine sounded good, and whatever problems there were were easily smoothed over by the handsome company and the rock droning from the radio.

"Name's Bo, by the way." He spared you a smile as he backed out of his parking space. "Only fair you know mine since I know yours." When you balked, he laughed. "Your name tag, remember?"

"Oh. Right. Duh."

The man—Bo—took it in stride. "You must be beat as hell, shift like that. Betcha can't wait to get home and curl up in bed."

"Yeah," you replied, giggling awkwardly.

Bo smiled. God, he was so pretty. "Don't blame ya. I'm dog tired myself. Do just about anything for a drink and a soft bed right now." A chuckle. "Guess I'll just have to settle for a beer and a motel mattress."

Again, you giggled awkwardly.

On the other hand, he wasn't awkward at all. In fact, he seemed perfectly comfortable carrying the conversation, as if he'd gotten the script before you and rehearsed his lines a thousand times. "So where'm I headed?"

"Oh, uh, take the next exit..."

You continued to navigate for him, but you were working from memory, your eyes barely on the road. You couldn't help but watch his hands as he maneuvered the truck. They looked strong and warm, with fine hairs near his wrist, and on his right hand, a signet ring glistened in the low light. When he stroked and squeezed the steering wheel, his muscles and skin shifted beautifully over his knuckles.

You kinda wished you were that steering wheel.

Eventually, the truck pulled up to your apartment building, engine purring as it idled. "This the one?"

"Yeah." You clutched your things closer and smiled over at Bo. "Thank you for this. Really, I don't know what..."

You'd been about to say I don't know what I can do to repay you, but the state he was in, it wasn't hard to guess what he needed. Not only was he drenched, but he looked half-dead with exhaustion despite that easy smile of his.

Even as you opened your mouth, you knew this was a crazy idea.

"Do you ... want to come in for a minute? I can at least get you a towel, um, and maybe some cash for taking you out of your way."

Bo paused. He had an expressive face—you could see him weighing his options. "What the hell," he sighed, giving a tight white-guy smile before cutting the engine. "Sure."

Your heart leapt. You had half expected him to turn you down out of politeness, but you supposed you had inconvenienced him. Excitement mixed with terror at the thought of having this man—a stranger—in your apartment. Alone with you.

But it was a little too late to back out now. You slipped out of the truck and led him quickly up the front steps, then the interior stairs to your apartment. As always, your building smelled like Second Floor's cats and First Floor's cheap weed. Bo only stood behind you, hat in his hand, nice and polite as he waited for you to unlock your door.

"Home sweet home," you said, laughing awkwardly as you stepped in.

Bo gave a cursory glance around the place but didn't seem to feel one way or the other about your decor, simply smiling at you. He sure did know how to make people feel at ease. This almost didn't feel like an insanely stupid idea.

"Make yourself at home. I'll go get a towel. Um, and I can get you a drink. What do you like?"

"I'm not fussy, but I'll take whiskey if you have it."

Your place was so small, you were able to carry on the conversation while you hurried to the bathroom and grabbed a fresh towel from the cabinet. "I think one of my friends left some behind the last time she was over. Wild Turkey? It's bourbon?"

"That'll do." When you brought him the towel, he gave you one of those dazzling grins in return. "Much obliged, darlin'."

God, you just wanted to stand there and take him in while he toweled himself off, but you forced yourself not to, instead going into the small kitchen and fetching the whiskey. You weren't much of a drinker yourself, but you'd seen your friends drink plenty, so you poured a couple fingers in a wide glass and brought it out. He had already made himself quite comfortable on your couch, leaned back, legs spread, arm across the back of it.

"I hope it's not irresponsible of me to give you a drink when you're gonna be driving," you said as you handed him the whiskey.

He chuckled. "Don't you worry about me. I've pro'lly driven worse off a thousand times." He threw it back in one go, and you watched his slightly stubbly throat bob as he swallowed smoothly. He practically moaned, "That's it," before wiping his mouth. Looking you up and down, "None for you, sugar?"

It took you a moment to find your voice. "I don't really drink much. Tastes like paint thinner to me."

That drew a laugh from him. "Sacrilege." Then a hum. "You don't have to stand there, y'know. It is your house."

Sitting next to him would mean his arm was practically wrapped around your shoulder. An edge of wariness was beginning to press against your thundering heart. This was such a terrible idea, for so many different reasons.

You approached slowly, lingering before him. The way he looked up at you through his lashes, body sunk into your couch, nearly made your mouth water. He lifted his glass slightly. "Think I'm good for one more ... if ya don't mind."

***

Part 2

Masterlist

[brokenbutnotquiting]

Say My Name

A Nace Oneshot where Nancy *really* loves the way Ace calls her name. (Because Alex Saxon makes it sound so damn enticing that I couldn't help myself)

I had always liked my name. Nancy Drew. Not so much Drew anymore, but it sounds better than Nancy Hudson. Or maybe that was just my habits talking.

In any case, I like my name. Nancy.

With the ever-growing confusion regarding my last name, it suited me better to opt for – what I call – the Ace option. Just casually dropping my last name until and unless it's an official or legal requirement.

For the very common folk of Horseshoe Bay, I am Nancy.

Just Nancy.

It was only after I realized and accepted my intense feelings for my best male friend – my partner-in-investigative-work – Ace, I often found my heart skipping a beat at my own name.

Purely because of the way he called it. Nancy. With that adorable lilt at the second 'n'. He probably never even realized that he did it, which made it all the more enticing.

But I would never tell him that.

__________

I ignored the screaming soles of my feet as I locked up the Claw. It was date night for George and Nick, and despite my best hopes, I was the one left in charge of closing up the seafood restaurant.

How had I ended up here tonight, I wondered sarcastically before a face flashed in my mind.

Ace.

How was it that most of my stupid impulsive decisions nowadays were because of him? 

He had opted to lock up for the night, claiming to be happy to do it only if George allowed Amanda to stay with him.

"We haven't seen each other much since we returned from our road trip, and she has been asking me if we could just talk for a while without either of us running off for something or the other," he had said with a shrug.

Now, normally I am not a goody-two-shoes. Or a masochist. But seeing Ace with that utterly adorable little pout made my heart melt, and I jumped in to sacrifice my sanity to let him leave early. To be with his girlfriend, no less. 

What can I say? Sometimes, I am just that much of an idiot.

Bess had side-eyed me so hard when I chimed in, I wondered how transparent I had become regarding my feelings for Ace. How did no one else notice?

But then, maybe everybody had noticed it at some point in time and had chosen not to comment on it.

Everybody except Ace. A sigh heaved out of me at that particular thought.

Ace was blissfully unaware. And thank God for that. I didn't need him to hate me for ruining his chances with Amanda. As much as I had rolled my eyes at his dopey smile that first time he had accepted his crush on her—almost endangering George in the process—I did want him to be happy, even if it wasn't with me.

Even if watching him fall for her tore my heart out every time, I thought about it.

Even if I was wrecking myself over him. Every. Damn. Day.

I looked around aimlessly. I only had to mop the floors one last time, and then I could leave. So I got the mop and the bucket— put on some music, and let my mind daydream about a life where I wasn't the girl one-sidedly crushing on her best friend as I let my body move on autopilot.

I didn't even realize that I wasn't alone until I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise, pulling me out of the daydream just before I got kissed.

I whirled around towards the door leading to the locker room to find him standing there.

Ace.

He looked angry. Really angry. 

"Ace? What are you doing here? What's wrong?" I asked worriedly. Was someone in danger? Was there an accident or something?

"What's wrong is that I cannot fucking stop thinking about you," he snapped, his soft blue eyes flashing with barely concealed anger.

"What – what are you on about?" I stuttered with surprise.

His nostrils flared delicately. "There I was, with my girlfriend, finally spending some much-needed time together, and my mind kept reminding me that she is not you. That you are you. And that you are here. And I was so distracted by the thought of you being here alone with no one to protect you, should something happen, that I completely missed her telling me that she loved me."

He strode over to where I was standing, grasping onto the mop as if my life depended on it. The weight of his words, the complete and utter disaster of it all hit me at the same time he stopped barely half a foot away.

"Ace— ” I started and stopped. What was I supposed to say? Was there anything I could say that would help? Anything at all? It didn't seem so.

"There she was, looking all hopeful as she told me she loved me, and all I could think of was whether you were safe. Whether I would see you tomorrow." His voice held an undercurrent of fear. And I understood that.

After the Aglaeca and the Wraith and Everett Hudson and the threat of the Road Back still lingering, all of us felt overprotective of each other.

"I am not a marshmallow, Ace. I can take care of myself. At the very least, not drop dead while locking up the Claw," I joked half-heartedly. I admit that I might have intentionally ignored the part where he said he barely paid attention to his girlfriend. Or how my heart skipped several beats at it. I didn't need him more antagonized over my feelings for him.

"That's not the point, and you know it," he snapped. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, before he continued, "my girlfriend told me she loved me, and not only was I distracted enough to miss it, I couldn't even say it back."

He shook his head, eyes still closed, as if he could somehow forget everything that happened. I understood that feeling as well. Sometimes, I wished the same.

"Why?"I asked him softly because I knew that was the part he wanted me to stress on. I knew him well enough to know his cues. I could play along.

He opened his eyes at my question.

"Because, as much as I like Amanda, I don't love her. At least not as she wanted me to. I tried, God knows I tried so damn hard, but I just couldn't," he explained.

I didn't ask him the question on the tip of my tongue again. I merely kept staring at him. Ace knew my cues as well as I did his. If he wanted me to play along, he could as well.

Why? 

"She broke up with me, rightly so. She deserves someone who isn't already in love with someone else," he whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the music, "what kind of a pathetic person does that?"

Even then, my heart beating fast enough to rival that of a marathon runner, I stayed silent.

"Nancy." He whispered almost pleading, for what I didn't know.

"I love the way you say my name, "I whispered back as if in a thrall. Completely inappropriate? Perhaps. But a kernel of truth nonetheless.

He raised his hands, cupping my face so softly as if afraid that I would break under his touch. He touched his forehead to mine, his eyes closed again.

A slight tremble shook me at his touch. His breath ghosted over my face. "Say my name again," I whispered to him.

"Nancy."

He shifted his face a tiny bit and kissed my cheek. I closed my eyes at the onslaught of feelings his adoration elicited.

"Nancy," he whispered before kissing my other cheek.

"Nancy."

A kiss on my chin.

"Nancy."

A kiss on my forehead.

"Nancy." 

A kiss on my brows.

"Nancy."

A kiss on one eye, and then the other.

"Nancy." 

A kiss on my nose.

"Nancy," his voice took on an almost worshipping quality as he whispered my name but didn't lower his mouth to mine.

Tell him, I chided myself. Tell him that he isn't wrong in his feelings for you. Tell him that if he felt condemned about his feelings for you, then you shared the damnation with him.

"I love you, Ace," I said, tears escaping me, my throat raw with emotion, "I have loved you for a while now." 

There was so much I wanted to tell him and couldn't. So much he needed to know. Another day, I reasoned with myself. I would tell him another day when we were both far more clear-headed than we were at the moment.

"I know, Nancy," he said softly, nodding his head, "I love you too."

And then he closed the gap between us.

His lips were soft against mine. Unhurried. Moving with a languid assurance that he knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to claim it any longer. I played along with him, slow and steady, our form of normalcy until the heat growing in my body took over.

The kiss turned frantic as soon as I bit on his lower lip. His tongue was in my mouth, claiming me. He wanted everything, and I wanted to give it all to him. My tongue followed his, teasing him to a sensual dance of their own.

His hands, which were previously cupping my face, slid lower until one of them was grasping onto my neck – positioning my head as he wanted – the other grabbing onto my waist, pulling my body closer to his.

I let go of the mop, and it fell on the floor with a clang. I placed my hands on his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady, if not galloping at a faster pace, under my fingertips. I moved my hands on his body, feeling his muscles flex subtly until one of my hands took a life of its own and decidedly wandered over to his hair, tugging on it as if he could come closer than he already was.

I don't particularly know how long we stayed like that, devouring each other like the last meal, but when we did eventually come up for air, I knew I wouldn't be able to let him go, and I told him as such.

His chuckle was like music to me. I opened my eyes just in time to see his smirk, "after a kiss like that, I should hope not, Nancy."

"Jesus Christ, Ace," I swore, "the way you say my name is my favorite thing."

His used laugh vibrated through me at that, warming my core but you know what? I didn't care.

"That's all?" Ace asked me playfully. No more stoicism. It was almost as if he had pulled back another layer of his surprisingly dazzling personality. I smiled at him in answer.

His answering grin almost knocked me right out. Damn! I really did love this man.

I didn't know what my face showed him, but the grin dropped off his face as he asked, "what's wrong?"

Ah. I must have been emoting the pent-up sadness I had repressed for so long.

I shook my head at him, smiling again. I combed through his hair with my fingers and let all of my affection pour into my voice as I said, "I didn't think I would ever get to do this again."

"Touch my hair?" Ace asked amused, quirking an eyebrow.

"Just be with you. Touch you without having to worry about offending anyone," I explained.

He placed a soft kiss on my forehead, pulling me into a hug, "You never really had any sense of personal space when it came to being near me, Nancy. That was just so you, I never really questioned it further. I was so scared of you putting up defenses against me that I purposefully ignored all the signs. Even when they were glaringly obvious." 

He kissed my cheek and said, "I shouldn't have tried as hard as I did to deny my feelings creeping up on me for over a month. And I definitely shouldn't have chosen the easier way out with Amanda."

I shook my head at that. "You did what you thought was right for you," I said, somewhat sadly, "I remember your smile. You told us that she made you bloom."

"She did. For a while."He said. There was a trace of sadness in his voice. It would take time, I knew, for him to stop blaming himself for everything that happened with her.

"Take your time before you move on, Ace. Both of you deserve that respect," I told him.

"I will," he said, a small smile gracing his lips again, "but not tonight." I nodded my acceptance of his decision. Whatever he needed.

"Nancy," he whispered my name in my ear a heartbeat later.

The groan that escaped me was obscene, and I rightfully snapped, "Stop saying my name like that, Ace, if you want to keep your clothes on."

His answering kiss made my blood heat up and my toes curl in my shoes in an instant. I kissed him back with equal fervor. His hands started roaming, and I gasped into his mouth as he cupped my ass. He chuckled in response. A challenge.

Very well, I thought to myself. I dropped my mouth, kissing his neck softly before biting on it. An obscene groan escaped him. I smirked.

Two can play this game, Ace. And I barely got started.

I licked the spot I had bitten.

"I won't be able to even see straight if you keep doing this," his warning rang. I ignored the moan accompanying the statement.

I took half a step away from him and said playfully, "You need some space, Ace?"

"Nancy," he almost growled before yanking my body flush against his again and dropping a searing kiss on my lips.

Dear God, in the heavens above! I loved the way he said my name.

Nancy.

[justimagineitblog]

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 4

A/N:  Hi loves! Chapter 4 is a longggggg one so strap in and get some rum, whiskey, tea, coffee, water, hot chocolate, whatever works and settle in for this one x 

When I walk into the pub, Tommy freezes in his spot.

He hasn’t seen me yet since Michael’s gracious return this morning. And I guess he assumed I wouldn’t be coming in for this shift.

He feel him watching me nervously as I begin my usual work routine, setting up the bar, straightening out all the chairs, wiping down all the tables. I can’t even bring myself to look at him.

“Izzy I-“

He stops immediately when I shake my head. With tears in my eyes threatening to spill already.

“I can’t, Tommy” I breathe

He nods sullenly, walking over to place a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“We had no idea about Gina… he’s just shown up after 6 fucking months and-“

“Tommy, please” I cut him off “I can’t talk about it-”

“Okay” he steps back, giving me some space “But just listen to me, just for a moment yeah? You’re still our girl. Our family. We’re all on your side, eh. Me, Poll, Arthur”

I nod, closing my eyes.

Of course they are. They’re just as shocked as I am. Up until this morning we were all in the dark about Michael. Where he was. What he was doing. I guess in a way, we all still are.

“I know” I sigh. Hearing him say those words stings, when I know that in 6 hours time I’ll closing up the bar for the last time and handing him my apron.

“Poll got a call this morning, from Michael, saying he was arriving to Birmingham in an hour, with someone for her to meet. First time she’d heard from him since he left. She’s been crying, I saw her. Says she can’t believe her own son would do something like this. Say’s she keeps seeing your face when you first saw him again-“

“Did he say why?” I question, un able to help myself from asking. It’s not like I haven’t been wondering that all day anyway.

Tommy shakes his head “Poll lost her shit. We all did. Told Gina all about you. About you and Michael. But he just fucking stood there… like a fucking ghost”

“Yeah, I know the look” I reply, flashing back to the cold, dead stare in Michael’s eyes.

“You know you don’t have to work tonight you can go home eh, try and rest, I’ll see you tomorrow night”

I clench my jaw, wishing he’d never said that. I can’t avoid it now.

“I won’t be in tomorrow, Tom” I begin, looking up at the ceiling and hoping that some God might just finally strike me down once and for all.

How am I supposed to do this.

I thought I had reached my limits of what I can bare this morning, but life seems to have decided that today is my ultimate test. If my sanity is still remotely in tact tomorrow, it will be a fucking miracle.

“If you need to take a few days Izzy it’s fine, Finn can cover for you. It’s about time he start leaning how to pour beer anyway-“ Tommy replies sympathetically, not understanding what I’m trying to say.

“No, Tom, I won’t be back tomorrow because I’m not coming back” I hold my breath “Today is my last shift”

Every word was harder than the next, as I forced myself to drag them up and out of my mouth.

Part of me wants this. Part of me want’s to run away from any place where I might see Michael. Jesus, I can’t believe I’m even thinking this but maybe this was the silver lining in him having the audacity to ask me to quit to stay out of his and Gina’s way. Because I won’t have to face seeing them together either. But actually say it, doing it, and breaking it to Tommy like this is incredibly painful.

“Oh” he breathes slowly.

Slowly, I begin to undo my apron. I can’t do this. I need to get out of here. I need to go home. Let my bed and whatever alcohol I have swallow me up. I don’t know how long for. And I don’t care.

“I’m sorry” I say in a harsh exhale as I hand him the apron.

He shakes his head, looking down at the floor almost like he’s to ashamed of how his cousin has broken my heart to look at me. He reaches for my hand to squeeze “No, I’m sorry”

Unable to hold back the tears that have been biting at my already red and glassy eyes, I quickly rush past him, my hand slipping out of his grip.

~ 3 DAYS LATER ~

The next 3 days are a drunken stupor. Coming in and out of consciousness. In and out of sleep, to eat a mouthful of something before washing it down with another mouthful of something strong.

It’s not until the 4th day when I’m woken at 7am by the sound of kids laughing and shouting as they play a game of cricket below my window. I try to muffle it by smothering myself with my pillow, but irritation and anger when it doesn’t go away draws me out of bed. I shuffle over to my window and slam it shut, earning looks from the children, before they forget seconds later and go back to playing.

From there I head straight to the kitchen. An Irish coffee constitutes as a nutritional breakfast, right?

As I let the kettle boil, I open my cupboard for my tried and true whiskey. And I find it… but I find it empty. Luckily that is, knowing in the back of my mind that I’m one more drink away from a hospital visit. But in that moment, I could have smashed the bottle over my kitchen counter in a tired, hangover fuelled rage.

Don’t they always say the cure for a hangover is more alcohol? Or have I just been around drunks at the pub too long?

I sigh. The pub. Over the past few days I have racked up a decent amount of memories that I wish to never remember. One of them, was seeing Michael… shortly followed by seeing his new wife Gina… then coming up at a close third is having to tell Tommy that I was quitting without any explanation why. That’s what the alcohol was for. To forget all that.

Now that I don’t have any alcohol left to immediately distract myself, I’m forced to really take in my surroundings. I look at my kitchen painfully as I count the bottles on my counter. Five. Empty. Bottles. I drank all that.

Jesus Christ, maybe I really am a Shelby.

God Michael would die if he saw this. Part of the reason he cherished me was because I wasn’t like his family. I loved them. I fit in with them. But I still had ‘a humanness to me’, as he called it one day. ‘A kindness.’ He said I kept him soft in a world lacking it. He’d only seen me truly drunk once. I was never a big drinker. I guess I’m not that girl anymore. Just like he’s not the Michael I knew anymore. I guess the only commonality we have anymore is our… dissimilarity.

The irony.

Unable to drink now, and sure as hell not leaving my apartment in this state, I spent the rest of the day moving slowly. Picking up whatever pieces of myself that I can. Showering. Changing clothes. Cleaning up what looks like a bomb site.

When night falls, and I realise I haven’t been shopping days and don’t have enough food to make anything decent, I decide it’s time to leave the house. Beside’s, everyone is going to be inside eating with their families and loved ones, and it’s dark enough anyway to hide myself in the shadows to avoid being seen.

With my biggest coat wrapped around me tightly, and an over the phone take away order placed at a restaurant down town, I head out into night. The cool, night air feels nice, like a splash of cold water on my face, and I’m so sure that I won’t have to face anyone that I begin to relax.

But of course I couldn’t really relax, could I. Because sitting inside the restaurant with a friend, is Polly Gray.

I pause in my tracks, almost tripping over from stopping so suddenly. I want to turn around and run the other way, immediately. And nothing is stopping me, besides the fact that I have nothing to goddamn eat.

“Fuck” I hiss to myself as I keep my head down, angling it away from her as I quickly slip into the restaurant doors.

“An order for Isabelle” I say urgently in a hushed voice at the counter as the worker greets me.

“Good evening ma’am” he grins eagerly as I hand him the money.

“I’ll just get your change” he nods joyfully and I grab my food. Daring to turn around, I peak over my shoulder to find that Polly is already looking at me. Once we make eye contact her eyes widen in shock and begins to stand up, making her way to me.

“Shit, shit, shit” I hiss, grabbing the food from the man quickly and beginning to walk out of the restaurant.

“Ma’am your change!” He calls after me

“Keep it!” I call back as I pick up the pace, jogging out the doors and into the street. I hear Polly’s voice call after me, and I hold my food close to me as I keep jogging, praying she will give up.

“Isabelle stop!” She shouts, and I slow to a stop. My head falls back as I sigh in defeat.

She finally catches up to me and I turn around to face her, but avoid eye contact.

“Izzy it’s me, what are you doing?” She asks as she catches her breath, staring at me in bewilderment.

God I can’t do this. I can’t. I’ve missed Polly so much. I’ve missed Tommy. I’ve missed the pub. Arthur. Finn. Michael. But I can’t be around them. Michael asked me to stay out of his and Gina’s way. I can’t do that if I’m still seeing everyone in the family. And it’s breaking my own heart.

“I just can’t talk right now Polly” I shake my head, praying for this to be over. For her to just accept that and go back to her dinner.

“Isabelle I’m worried about you, no one has seen you for day’s. Tommy said you quit the pub… Isabelle did Michael put you up to this-“

“No” I cut her off immediately. I’m lying. I know I am. But what difference does it make if I tell her Michael told me to keep out of everyones way. That will only make her and everyone hate him even more. And I can’t stand to see them all lose Michael the same way I did. I would never wish that upon them.

“Just talk to me darling-“

“No Polly,” I snap. Not out of anger, but out of sadness. Pain. I know what I have to do. What I have to say to make her stay away from me and fulfil Michael’s wish. But it’s going to kill me to do it. I take a deep breath as she waits for me to speak nervously. What’s that saying. Be cruel to be kind? I have to be cruel, I have to pushing them away. It’s easier to push them away. It’s better for everyone. Then Michael can live with Gina, the Shelby’s can be at peace without me around.

“I don’t want anything to do with your son, or your family. Have I not made that clear enough. I am not your family. I am not a Shelby. Now please leave me alone”

Polly stares at me, mouth open but no words following. I fight to keep her eye contact. To not falter. So that she think’s I’m serious about this. But it hurts. Never did I think I would have to be breaking her heart like this. I can see it breaking, I can see it in her eyes.

Is this what I looked like? Is this what Michael saw when he broke mine?

“I have to go” I manage to say before turning on my heels swiftly, leaving her standing in the street alone.

TAGLIST

@shadow-of-wonder

@marvelismylifffe​ 

@saintfootball​

@haphazardhufflepuff​ 

@peaky-things​

@burnitup​

@swweett-insanityyy​

@ganjeolhiddaeng​

@thoughtfulfreakalpaca​ 

[adamdriverwrites]

Carpe Noctem || Part 2

Plot summary: Mob boss’s daughter & bodyguard au ft. Kylo Ren. Based off this plot bunny (x)

Warnings: swearing, mention of death, mention of drugs and addiction.

Word count: 4580

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader

A/N: Here is part 2! Lemme know what you guys think! I’m also thinking about making a character page with everyone on it and maybe some pictures of what i kind of expected the house and car to look like and stuff?

Taglist: @helloimindelaware, @dandydragonz, @musicalcoffeebean, @hazydespair, @driverficarchive. Let me know if you want to be added!

Masterlist here

Most nights lately, sleep had been restless if it was to be had at all. The last week was spent thinking mostly about Mallory, but regardless you found yourself waking up from a full nights rest. The last thing you had expected being back home. The California king bed was massive, with soft feather down comforters and pillows creating the fantasy you were sleeping on a cloud. The split second before your conscious thought's took the wheel, you woke up feeling almost… content. A visceral and unfamiliar feeling, and then you remembered the chain of events that had led up until this point, and reality crashed to the forefront of your mind.

A heavy sigh escaping your lips, you pulled yourself together and exit the bed. Getting ready for Mallory's funeral was easier than you thought. Most of your clothes were black, and you had only brought one dress with you appropriate enough for a funeral. You didn’t feel like wearing it, you only brought it along with you because it was instinct when Mallory was around. Forcing you into dresses and heels. The concept of wearing one hurt too much today. So you decided to wear something a little more casual. Dark high-waisted jeans, a black silk shirt and you topped it off with your leather jacket. After applying some simple makeup, you mustered the courage to leave your room.

Last night was spent outlining some questions, accumulating thought's and reasoning pertaining to Mallory’s untimely demise. You weren't sure if you were still in shock, denial, or on the track to slowly coming to terms with her death. Either way, you knew only one thing would make you feel better.

So you left your bedroom and headed towards your Father’s office.  Nearing midday already, there was far less voices reverberating down the hallway as you approached the recreation room. This you were happy about, unable to deal with unfamiliar eyes casting you over today.

You entered the silent room, though still smokey, you walked further in before realizing you were not alone.

“Well, well, well…” a voice made you still in your tracks. Hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up. Not out of fear, but nervousness. That was a voice you hadn't heard in a while. “What do we have here?”

Your head turned slowly, seeing two familiar faces. Ares and Roman, two of your older brothers. They were sat in a pair of black leather chairs, smoking in a half dark room in what appeared complete silence. Your nerves simmered, realizing that Lyon was nowhere to be seen. It would appear you were safe for now.

A smile covered your lips and you shifted around the pool table to stand in front of them. Ares was already standing, walking forwards to wrap you up in a hug, squeezing you tightly. Your eyes glanced to Roman standing behind him, regarding you with a smile before pushing your brother away and giving you a hug himself. Your nerves lessened at their apparent happiness to see you. Though, it had always been Lyon with which you had the problem.

“Hey, sis,” Roman pulled away to regard you. Both his and Ares’ eyes looking deep into your face, a minuscule sadness and wanting behind their eyes. If you had a dollar for every time someone had done that you would have been able to pay for your own College education.

“Shit. I mean, I know you always looked like Mom but damn-” Ares sighed, and then continued on, “whatever, its just- its good to have you back.”

“I just wish it was under better circumstances.” Roman popped in, and pulled his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Seeing one in the hand of your brothers, there was little resistance in accepting his silent offer. Eager to share your nicotine habit with someone.

“How’s school going?” Ares asked.

“Its going well. One more year and I’ll have my master’s.” You were studying psychology, a subject you were eager to learn after living with such a fucked up family. It was the only thing that tethered your sanity to this reality.

“How’s the kids? And how’s Bella?” You asked Ares. You had seen them once or twice, when they were babies, still latched on to Bella, his wife. Mallory had shown you a photo whenever she could get the chance. Happy and proud of her niece and nephew.

“The twins are good. They’re at school now, growing up so fast. Micah, weirdly, looks a lot like Mallory. Mellie though, she looks so much like Bella. So at least she’ll have an easy run of it.”

You bit back a smile, and inhaled the cigarette your brother had lit for you.

Ares was your oldest brother, 11 years older than you were, since your birth he had always been mature enough to have a good relationship with. Despite what happened, he didn't resent you for anything that happened with your Mother. He never blamed you or your existence for ruining the family. No, that was mostly Lyon's modus operandi.

The only thing Ares seemed to care about was being a good Dad, and trying to be a decent husband. He was intelligent and self aware enough to not make the same mistakes as your Father.

Roman was similar. Interested only in running the one legitimate business your Father had; a club on the outskirts of your family’s territory. He wasn't obsessed with the life of crime, or powers of intimidation. He was softer, than all of you. And had kept his private life to himself, just like you had a knack for doing.

Even though you hardly ever talked over the last few years, you still enjoyed their presence. You understood that they had their own lives, and growing up you had wondered why you hardly spent any time together. It wasn’t until you were an adult you realized they were just busy living their own lives. Ten years older than you were, by the time you were shipped off to boarding school at 13 they had already started their trial into adulthood. And under your Father’s pressing thumb you could understand why you would fall under the radar. You were just a kid, and by the time the three of them and Mallory had grown up and formed relationships, you were practically just born. It was easy to understand why you had spent most of your childhood alone.

Ares opened his mouth to speak once more, when it was interrupted by quiet shouting and raised voices from your Dad’s office. Knowing it had some sort of soundproofing you only had a second to contemplate the possible loudness of what was happening inside before the doors burst open. Andrew stepped out, hand on the shoulder of your other brother; Lyon. They shared a look, obviously discussing something heated, your Father’s gaze conveying word’s he didn’t speak, until they turned to glance at the rest of you.

Lyon's apathetic face turned into something of a small snarl at seeing you standing with Ares and Roman. You felt like you had gone back 10 years in time. Back to the old days when your relationship with each other held nothing but contempt. Once again, treating you like you weren't allowed to be part of the family. You hadn't dealt with this shit since you were 16, and were moderately hoping he was over it by now. Though the look on his face suggested otherwise.

“Well, look who’s come crawling back.” He could barely get the words out of his mouth before your Father’s hand on his shoulder tightened. A small gesture that quietened him immediately.

“Lyon." You spoke the only welcome you were ready to give. Spitting the word like it was poison.

You walked forward, eager to have a conversation with your Dad. The sole reason you had come down here in the first place. Lyon kept his eyes on yours, and they tightened at the corner as you approached, hate not hidden behind his eyes but seemingly on full display as you walked forward.

Your Father turned and disappeared deeper into his office, while Lyon stayed in the entrance, not moving from his position.

“Lyon,” Ares voice was chastising him. “Chill the fuck out, Jesus Christ.”

He didn't move, didn't flinch, only kept his eyes on you. You decided to give him the opposite of what he so obviously sought. Keeping your face devoid of any emotion. Once upon a time his hate for you had affected you greatly, but now? Well, now, all you seemed to give a shit about was Mallory. You stopped at the entrance, standing next to him as you inhaled your cigarette, keeping your eyes locked with his. A show of faith that you weren't scared or affected by his actions or words. A try at letting him know that his opinion of you meant nothing.

You stepped forward, further into the office and turned to close the doors for a semblance of privacy, shutting them on his ass and sending him forward a few steps. You could hear a muffled cuss word or two from the other side. You stared at the wood with a tiny smirk.

A loud sigh escaped your Father’s lips and he looked like he had gotten no sleep. He collapsed on the chair behind his desk, and pointed at something in the corner of the room.

“Get Finn to watch him tonight, I have a feeling that he's going to do something stupid.”

You were about to ask why the fuck should you care? And ‘of course he would’, he was known for doing stupid things in the heat of the moment. Like that time when you were 8 and he was 13 and he had cut your hair with a pair of scissors because you had kicked him in the nuts.

But then you realized your Dad wasn't talking to you. He was talking to Kylo.

“Yes, sir.” He nodded from the corner of the room. Nestled between two large bookshelves he sat relaxed in a leather seat, hands on the sides, ankle over his knee. The perfect vision of relaxed calamity in a dark corner. Simply watching and assessing everything.

“You almost ready to go?” Your Dad’s voice pulled your attention. His chin resting in his hands and he looked over at you, blue eyes holding sadness. He was burying his daughter today after all.

“Yeah.” You continued forward, trying to forget the man who seemed a permanent fixture in your Father‘s office. What? Was he your Dad’s PA or something? “I just wanted to talk to you about some stuff.”

“About what?”

“Well, I was wondering if you had the case file for Mallory. I was hoping I could take a look at it.”

His head raised at those words, a slight look of confusion on his face and you quelled it by filling the silence with an explanation. “I just have so many questions and I want them answered, and... I know it's painful for you to talk about it.”

You weren't completely sure he had it. It was official police documentation after all, but he was a man that appreciated the value of knowledge, and that those who wield it properly can transform it into power. Last you knew, he had a great deal of cops on his payroll, what was one case file regarding his daughter’s death?

He turned to open a drawer, pulling a manila folder from it. It was relatively thin, though the edges of the folder were well worn suggesting he had spent the last couple of days going through it intently.

"There's some things to still be added. Poe's coming around tomorrow to drop off the updated documents."

Your brows raised and your eyes darted back to your Father. "Poe's still around?" You wondered how he was fairing through all this. Once upon a time you remembered he was quite fond of your sister. One of the many that had a crush on her. You resisted the urge to curl your lips in a smile. Your eyes fell back down, and quickly read through the notes. Skimming the words quickly, you thumbed through the pages realizing you would need far more time to comb through all the information. There were a lot of big words, and you hadn’t even had coffee yet. Pulling out your phone, you snapped a quick picture of every page so you could read it later when you had more time.

"She was found in the apartment, coroner says fentanyl overdose, with traces of cocaine in her system. The official ruling they're leaning towards is accidental but...." A longing appeared behind his eyes. "there's another set of DNA at the apartment. They don't know who it belongs to."

"Not to mention she was clean. She had been for months."

Your Father shook his head slightly. "Weeks, maybe. You haven't been here." The words were not said with malice, only sincere truth. Never the less, they made you angry. "We just don’t know."

"I talked to Mallory. A lot."

"More than her Father?"

Your anger spread. With the beat of your heart speeding faster and faster, you felt the adrenaline flow to the tips of your fingers and toes. Though you maintained a perfectly still presence, you wondered how that sentence could anger you so much. If it was to do with the fact that he thought he knew her better than you? Or was it that he made it sound like he talked to her so often, while only talking to you a handful of times a year? 

What was wrong with you so badly that he didn't think of you as worthy?

And then you remembered your Mother. How could you forget? Your father never fucking did.

Jealousy and rage pushed aside to make room for cooler heads, your logic reigned King. This was not the time, or place, for an existential crisis. Not in front of your Father, or the dark gaze you could feel piercing your back, judging every movement and word that spilled from your lips.

"Did you know she had a boyfriend?"

His face stilled. Realization dawning on his face before it was replaced with another emotion. He was about to ask a question before you interrupted. It was petty, and you had swore a promise to Mallory to never tell anything to your Dad. But she was dead, and you wanted to prove a point.

"Did you know she dropped out of school a whole year before she told you she did? Or what about how she crashed the Audi when she was drunk and got a DUI?"

You could see his anger boiling up, not knowing if it was directed at you or her. This was not going the way you thought it would. Not on your second day here anyway.

"I loved her too." You tried to dampen the caustic anger that you and your Father shared. "And all I'm saying is... she was clean." If there was one thing you were sure of it was that. "I just want to help find out what was going on."

You couldn’t tell him why exactly, because that was a promise you were willing to keep. But Mallory had a close call that almost ended her life, scaring her so badly she hadn’t even had the temptation to touch the stuff again. She had been clean for months, this you were sure of.

Your Father stood up, "Whatever happened, I'm working on it." He walked around his desk, coming to grab the folder from your hands. Not with haste or anger, he simply appeared to be done on the subject. "I don't want you involved, your safety is more important."

The folder was thrown on his desk behind him, and he turned back around to face you, straightening the tie on his black suit. "I'm leaving in about half an hour, you want to come in the car with us?"

The change of subject should have been a shock. Though you were reminded that this was your Father’s way of abstaining from anger with his daughter’s when his son's usually got screamed at, or slapped. He was trying not to lose his calm manner, and even offering some form of an olive branch in the form of a ride.

You swallowed. "I kind of feel like driving. Is my car still in the garage?" Another excuse, but you didn't want to ride in the close confined quarters with him as your company.  

"I have the mechanic look at it every couple of months, he assured me it was in pristine condition."

You would have thought that was sweet, doing something nice for you. Though you guessed his ulterior motives lay with the fact that it was your Mother's car before it was yours. Unable or unwilling to sell one of the last things he had of hers, he passed it down to you instead. No one else had wanted it. Not when your Dad was willing to hand out Lamborghini’s and Aston Martin’s as well.

"Thank you." Void of sincerity, though no one would have known it, you stood up and moved towards the doors of the office. One last look in Kylo's direction confirmed his powerful gaze was still trained on you. You quickly looked away, eager to get away from the whole confrontation.

---

The Snoke family mausoleum was constructed from dark marble. The very same that littered the inside of the manor. It stood tall and large nestled amongst the others in Saint Catherine cemetery, proud in its construction and flashy exorbitance.

You guessed there was a reason; if not for the fact your Father did everything with an expensive flourish, then because it was an extremely important plot of land for him personally.

Elizabeth Snoke was your Father’s everything. You had never experienced their relationship first hand, though people had said many things about how he was before her death. She was a vision, renowned for her beauty and grace and kindness - which always confused you greatly. You were often compared to her and those were traits you definitely didn’t fucking possess. She softened the anger and ruthless nature of Andrew Snoke, so much so he decided to have children and raise a family with her while still running the family business.

You gathered it was an natural reaction - your Father building a mausoleum to house his late and dearly beloved, room enough for himself and eventually his children to slumber when they passed. You figured Lyon would have been the one to die first, running his mouth to the wrong person the reason for his premature demise. Maybe even your Dad; you didn’t think it would be Mallory.

The sun shined bright overhead, cloudless blue sky providing little shelter from the warmth of the day. Large, black sunglasses on your face, you listened to the Priest prattle on, reciting a verse from the bible about the dead finding peace in heaven. You stood beside your Father, your three brothers flanking either side. All clad in black, the five of you stood in solemn silence, contemplating on the memory of Mallory.

When you showed up in your car, you had expected to see some of her friends she talked about, anyone other than your family. Finn, or Poe paying their respects, maybe Phasma, even if out of respect for your Father. However, your Dad had assured you it was a private matter, just family, he had said.

Fuck, Mallory would have hated this.

But funerals weren’t for the dead, they were for the people they left behind. If this was his way of grieving, then you would allow him the tiny modicum of space and privacy he needed to do so.

You were ready to put your energy elsewhere, however.

The Priest finished his sermon and offered anyone else to speak any words if they wished. Silence stretched, your family stoically standing still. Everyone's eyes cast down at the shiny black lacquered casket housing your sisters body. You were thankful it remained closed.

You didn't know what anyone would have said. You had no expectations for a speech from your Dad. You understood that the men in your family found strength in silence in times of sadness.

If you were a Snoke, you simply just didn’t talk about it.

The Priest waited, sending a look towards your Father, who simply shook his head and cast his eyes down at the casket. He came over, said his condolences to you and your family, before stepping away, giving you a some privacy.

Your concentration drifted, to spy at the army of slick black vehicles your family had come in, Snoke lackeys towing along. They remained scattered around the perimeter at a distance. Making sure to give your family your privacy and provide a protective barrier. Though from this distance you didn't recognize or know the name of any of them, a part from one.  

Kylo leaned against your Dad's Rolls Royce Phantom, cigarette between his fingers, eyes fixed on what was happening. Completely focused on the service and your family.

Hair tousled slightly from the wind, crisp black suit covering his tall, broad figure. It was too far to tell but you felt like he was staring at you. Noticing his blatant presence suddenly made you cautious of your movements.You didn’t like his piercing gaze.

You weren't completely sure what he did around here. He didn't interact with other people that worked for your Dad, not that you had seen, and he was obviously trusted enough to be privy to most private family matters that happened in your his office. He had served to quickly make you feel vulnerable and self conscious; maybe that was Kylo’s purpose?

Though his broad muscles stretched under the perfectly tailored suit begged to differ. He was large enough to cause some damage it seemed, and the scar that ran down the side of his face suggested he had either seen and or done some violent shit.

Regardless, your interest was piqued.

Pathetic service over, the workers that waited were ushered forward, moving Mallory's casket into the crypt. Preparing to place her within her allotment  before beginning the process to seal the door.

"Dinner tonight?" Your Father’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"I said," he stood next to you, hand resting on Roman's shoulder, and he pulled his children into a little circle. "How about dinner tonight? Family back together again... and we can say goodbye to Mallory with a drink."

You said nothing - sitting down at a dinner table with them seemed like a fucking nightmare. Roman nodded his head, Ares agreeing, Lyon looked like he was about to say something until he saw the look on your Dad's face.

Morose, fighting back whatever turmoil of emotion with a clipped smile. Brave face a complete facade. Lyon eventually agreed. Everyone turned to look at you, and you bit back a sigh.

"Sure."

"Great." He pulled away from his children. "I'll see you back home. I’ll get the good Scotch out."

Lyon pulled off with your Dad, leaving the 3 of you alone. Roman sighed, looking once more at the workers sealing off Mallory's casket in the crypt, then turned to you and Ares. "I'm heading back home. See you there?"

You two nodded, and then turned to one another. Ares smiled and put a hand on your back. Your Father was making his way back, Lyon and Roman following behind. Your eyes scanned the perimeter your Andrew’s men had made, slowly walking back to the fleet of vehicles, following your Father like dogs.

"Fuck this." Ares sighed, "I gotta get out of here." You nodded, and turned to walk back with him, back to where everyone was starting to gather around the cars.

"Are you okay?" you asked him. You figured you knew the response but he always did seem the most emotionally available of the family. Even then, it was a rare sight.

"I'll be okay. How about you?"

"I miss her a lot, especially being back home..." you looked forward at the criminal mess that was your family and your family's business. "But she's dead, and I gotta get used to it."

He bitterly laughed in agreement, "In other news, the car's looking good. I forgot that thing was even in the garage."

You followed his gaze to your car, the very last in the line. Your pristinely clean 1974 Datsun 240z, a shiny, polished beast on dark wheels. You had to admit, your Mother had taste, and with a few adjustments - cosmetic and mechanical -  made after your sixteenth birthday it really had become a magnificent sight.

"Thanks. It was tucked in a corner, cover over it and all. But you know what Dad's like with her shit." The few items left to prove her existence; a car, an oil painted portrait hanging in the library, and a few others, were immaculately kept and preserved.

"I sure do." Ares snickered a little. "You gonna come have a drink at home? Dad'll be pulling out the Macallan." He tried to sway you with extremely good whiskey.

"I will soon, I just got a few errands to run first. Then I’ll be home."

"Errands?" he questioned, his brow furrowing. "The fuck kind of errands you got to do now?"

"I have to go the pharmacy and get a few things, and then buy some new clothes since everything I have is back home. I thought it was going to be in and out sort of trip."

"Alright," he accepted the answer, "See you back home then."

The two of you separated, going to your cars. Your jumped in the drivers seat, rolling down the tinted windows to let some of the stagnant heat out. As you pulled a cigarette from your middle console, your eyes found themselves wandering back to your family. Slowly piling in their respective vehicles, your Father's men following suit. About to head back to the manor to get fucked up for the memory of Mallory.

You were glad you parked at the very end, watching their cars pull off, one by one, all towing in the line and heading for the northern exit of the large cemetery, towards home.  

You had lied.

You didn't need to go to the pharmacy, and you had brought enough clothes to last you a week, you just didn't want him privy to your whereabouts. You weren’t sure what he would do with the information.

You remembered your sister's voice, soft and kind, telling you stories of her friends over the video calls you would share on a regular basis. She had talked about Lacy often; a dancer at a club owned by your Dad. They had met while in College and had been close ever since. You had met her once or twice before you moved away, but weren't close with her like Mallory was.

You figured if anyone was going to know anything about Mallory before she passed - she would be a good place to start.

You turned the ignition, engine roaring to life with a deep rumble. Lighting the cigarette that now dangled from your lips, you shifted into first gear and pulled from the curb. Making your way off to the Supremacy.

[silly-nonny-fics-are-for-fandoms]

Amare Dilictio

Note: This is a gift for @angiezstuff! I wanted to say thank you so very much for always making me laugh with your cute art and comics! I actually started writing one fic, but you posted new things which made me want to write more, and so I have three, including this one! Thank you so, so, so much.

Gift 1/3, this one is Jayphen. 

Summary: Jay loved Stephen more than life itself. He's loved him for years, and he'd gladly protect him from anything. Maybe he was being overprotective, maybe he was insane, but he did not care. He would be there for him. Because the people who glared at them as they walked, perceived them as delinquents, well. They didn't know about the softness behind the frightening edges.  

Read on Ao3 or keep on reading here! 

Jay loved his boyfriend more than life itself. Stephen was absolutely wonderful, a ball of chaotic sarcastic energy that never failed to make him laugh, even if he didn't quite understand his actions. So, of course, whenever Stephen was upset, Jay took it upon himself to make sure the problem was taken care of. The purple-haired man was more of an emotional reaction than Jay, a supernova while he was a black hole. Nothing he could do could compare, that was something he was sure of.

They argued a lot, like any couple. Sometimes it was about silly things, and to the untrained eye, one may think that Stephen took the reins in all aspects of their relationship. While that would likely make Stephen very happy, it simply wasn't true. Jay planned date nights, he did all the cooking between the two of them for the safety of the neighborhood, and he was the one who kept him in line in public. There was a very special corner which he often had to remind Stephen that he belonged in, to the dismay of one of their housemates. 

Hosuh didn't mind so much, but Gavin was a whole other story. Living with one's brother, his boyfriend, and their own boyfriend was a situation that made many people's heads spin in contemplation. Of course, he loved Hosuh, but hearing Jay and Stephen argue about who would be in the bottom corner was something Gavin did not want to listen to on most days.

So they made a chart, no arguments necessary. Day by day, their behaviors were ticked off in a few different boxes, which would decide for them. It saved Gavin's sanity. 

And that made Stephen happy, though he often teased his little brother about it, which made Jay happy. As long as Stephen was kept happy, that was good. No one had to die. There was one rule when it came to that aspect, punishing those who made Stephen cry or upset, and that rule was very simple. Don't touch family or Hosuh. Everyone else was fair game. 

Today, Jay was sure that Stephen was intent on driving him insane. He'd grabbed one of Jay's green hoodies and wore it with tight black ripped jeans, his hair messier than normal. 

"You're so cute," Jay said with a smirk, quickly leaning over and kissing his boyfriend's cheek. Stephen took a step back, hands in the air, and an offended look on his face.

"Woah, woah, woah! I am not cute, Jay!" 

"I mean, have you looked in a mirror?"

"Stephen doesn't need a mirror to know what he looks like."

Jay knew that he wasn't going to get anywhere arguing with him like this. There was absolutely no point to it. So he grabbed his orange marker, heading over to the chart on the fridge, and was about to put a tick mark on one of Stephen's boxes when his hand was grabbed by his partner.

"Oh no, you don't, Jay. Not today." Before Jay could react, Stephen had put a tick mark in the purple marker on the box in Jay's row. "I'm not bottoming today!"

"What? What did I do to get that?" Jay exclaimed, confusion crossing his face, "You're the one acting like a sub!"

"How is he acting like a sandwich?" Hosuh's voice came, still half asleep as he walked into the kitchen. The two of them laughed at him for a short moment, sighing afterward. 

"Oh my god, Hosuh. Go back to bed, or go get Gavin up."

"Gavin's already gone, he has a morning run," Hosuh mumbled, turning on the kettle to make some tea for himself and Stephen, and coffee for Jay. 

"Wait," Stephen said, eyes wide, "That means I can make as many dick jokes as I want! Fuck yeah!" 

"For the next twenty minutes, yeah."

"You're so fucked, asshole."

"That's kind of the point of the chart, baby."

"Don't call me baby! I am not baby! Gavin is a baby!"

"Then what do you want me to call you?"

"My name! Stephen!" 

"Can you not argue until after I get my tea?" Hosuh asked, staring at the couple. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence, "Or just go into the living room?"

"Shut up Hosuh! Don't tell me what to do!"

Stephen grabbed Jay by the front of his shirt, pulling him in close for a kiss. That was his normal way to end an argument, they all knew. Because Jay couldn't be mad at him when they were kissing, showing just how much he loved the man in his arms. But, the problem with such an act, was the fact that Stephen got embarrassed very, very easily. 

They broke the kiss and Stephen's face was bright red. 

"You're so annoying, Jesus Christ." 

"No, you're the annoying one." Jay rolled his eyes, grabbing cups from the cabinet along with his coffee grinds, while Hosuh grabbed the tea, "That's why we're dating, obviously."

"I am not annoying! I am amazing, and you are lucky to date me!"

"Hell yeah, I am." 

Breakfast went by faster than they expected, and the next thing they knew they had to go to school. Jay didn't get a break throughout his entire day until classes ended, while Stephen had an hour free around two before getting to go home. Jay worried about his boyfriend all the time, even though he trusted that he was going to be okay. Stephen could protect himself. He could fight. They both could.

But he wanted to protect him. He wanted to protect him so strongly that it drove him crazy. Sure, Stephen could be a pain, pretending to be upset and then blaming someone else to get him riled up, but it was all in good fun. No one ever died. 

No one ever got too badly injured, to the knowledge of the public. 

Stephen loved Jay. He knew that it was weird to most people, to love someone with such violent tendencies as his partner. They thought he was trapped in his relationship, instead of flourishing in it as was actually true. It wasn't uncommon to hear people he didn't even know mumbling about him behind his back.

But they didn't know Jay as he did. They had never seen him get giddy over video games, watching him design houses on the sims, and they'd definitely never seen how happy he got when Stephen ran his fingers through his hair, laying in bed as they read before falling asleep. None of them knew that Jay got up early so that he could be the one to wake up Stephen with kisses, or that he liked to rub his thumb over the back of his hand when they held hands. 

They just thought he was creepy. How he never opened his eyes unless necessary, and when he did they were such drastically different colors. But he saw the autumn leaves in his eyes, the sunset's shades bleeding into beauty.

Today, it was too much. 

His normal teacher for the last class of the day had been in the hospital for the past month, and her replacement absolutely detested him. She always had to explain things to him slower, embarrassing him in front of the entire class, whenever he had a question. Even if it was something simple, asking for clarification, or just explaining to her why she was wrong. They'd had tests last week and today, they were getting their grades.

A big red F stared him in the face, even though he knew he got at least ninety percent of the questions right. He looked over at the person who always sat next to him, one of the people he'd studied with, did mock tests with, and knew had the same answers as he did.

A plus. One hundred percent. 

Rage boiled in him, glaring at the smirking woman at the head of the class. He knew what she was doing. The head of the department was out for the next week, something he knew because of his outstanding grades made one of his teachers suspicious, so he'd been sent to see them to talk about it. He'd been cleared of any cheating suspicions, but he'd been warned not to cause any trouble until next Monday when he could deal with it.

She'd failed him when he had no out. 

He looked through his answers on the three-page test, but as the paper shifted,  he saw a note fall from between the sheets. 

We can discuss your grade after class, Mr. Ng.

He didn't need to meet with her to know what the reason behind this was, even though he still did. Of course, he was correct. She failed him because of his hair, his attitude, and on her first day there he'd found it prudent to call her out for an incorrect explanation only to be picked up by his boyfriend after class. Now, he knew that Jay had a reputation on campus for being weird even amongst odd people. 

All invalid reasons. All grounds for getting her fired. Except he couldn't go to the head of the department, because of a stupid vacation.

Hosuh and Gavin had a date that night, so when he got home, he was alone. All alone. Normally, the thought of how stupid his grade had been would make him mad, make him want to punch something, but he found himself breathing hastily, tears streaming down his face as he openly cried. 

He didn't expect Jay to get home early, walking into the living room of their flat only to see his boyfriend crying into his hands silently.

"Stephen?" He said softly, "Stephen, what happened?" He asked, rushing over to him and immediately pulling him into a tight embrace, "Who do I need to kill?"

"It's nothing," Stephen whispered, "It's stupid."

"No, it's not. You're crying. Let me help you, I love you too much to see you in so much pain."

Stephen broke. He couldn't stop crying as he explained what happened, dumping all his emotions as fast as he could even if the sentences didn't make sense. He didn't notice Jay texting Hosuh and Gavin, telling them to stay out as long as possible to keep them from seeing Stephen in such a weak state. That was something reserved for him and only him. Jay picked up Stephen as the other dried his tears, not even wobbling as he brought him up the stairs to their room. They had a two-floor, two-bedroom flat, so each couple shared a bedroom to save on space. Stephen was set down on the bed, Jay pausing for a second after putting him down.

"Stay here, I'll be right back." He said, quickly leaving the room and heading over to Gavin and Hosuh's room. He knew that Hosuh had a weighted blanket for his anxiety, used to help him after a panic attack and as a form of therapy, and he would return it after calming down Stephen. Jay desperately wanted to find where that substitute teacher lived and bury her alive, but he had a boyfriend who was infinitely more important, and his sanity was more important.

The blanket was neatly folded in the corner, the soft bunny covered fabric showing on top. He knew there was a pale blue silk satin with clouds on the underside, for some form of texture reason. Not exactly Stephen's ideal, but Jay assumed it would have to do for now. He picked it up, the weight of it a bit more awkward than an actual person. He carried it back to their bedroom, seeing Stephen having curled up in the fetal position near the center of the bed. When he saw the blanket, he sniffled and chuckled softly.

"Is that Hosuh's blanket?" 

"Yeah. I don't think he'll mind, and if he does, oh well." Jay shrugged, unfolding the blanket and placing it atop his boyfriend. Only then did he climb in bed with him, kissing his cheeks. 

"I love you." Stephen whispered, "You know I'll kill you if you tell anyone about this, right?"

"Ha ha, I know. I love you too. Now go to sleep."

"Don't tell me what to do," Stephen grumbled, refusing to follow the order. Instead, he reached over and took Jay's hand in his own, staring up at the ceiling now. As crappy as the world outside was, as dark as it could be, they created their own twisted light to keep the rest of the world safe from the 'monsters' like themselves. Well, if they were monsters, they were the best kind. 

[stevescheekcut]

i. you suck.

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none

summary: robin plants a seed of doubt.

a/n: my first time posting for steve! this is just a little vignette from a whole henderson!reader universe that i have partially written. hope you enjoy!

“No, come on! Come on. I promise I’ll catch it this time. Gimme another chance.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her, Reese’s Pieces of failed throws past scattered around the tile floors. 

“Oh yeah? Why should I?” 

She shook her hands out, loosening up with an exhale before bending her knees slightly, looking determined. 

“I’ll bet you your tips that I catch this one, Harrington.” 

Steve looked down at the handful of candy in his palm, popping one into his mouth and taking his time working on the sugary shell before responding. “And if you lose?”

A smug sort of smile comes over her face, a knowing twist of her lips. “What do you want me to give you?”

The crossing of a thin line, the toying of a boundary-- the start of a game he is not gambling on, not with Robin wiping down the counter right behind them. “Fine— if you win, you take the tips, but if you lose, I get to have all the Reese’s.” 

Her face automatically contorts, her sultry smirk transforming into a grimace. “Off the floor? That’s disgusting, Steve!” 

“Who cares? Free candy!” 

She rolled her eyes, still sitting in her crouch, ready to pounce. “That sweet tooth is gonna be the end of you some day, I swear.” She opened her mouth, tipping her head back and raising a challenging eyebrow. “Now throw.” 

Scoops was dead— as was to be expected at 11:30am on a Monday, summer or not. No one goes to the mall that early— except Y/N, of course. If she wasn’t working at the video store with Keith, she was at Scoops, much to Robin’s very obvious dismay and mall hours’ determined defiance. 

“As fun as it is WATCHING you have fun, the rush is going to hit soon. I might need you, if you don’t mind...you know, working. At work.” 

Steve watched Y/N’s face fall, her stance straightening as she curled into herself, looking sheepishly over Steve’s shoulder. A physical representation of the end of any fun they might’ve been having. He turned to scowl at Robin over his shoulder, picking at her nail polish from behind the cash register, the wet rag she’d been using sat in a soggy pile in front of her. “What rush? It’s noon.”

 Robin blinked, her eyes quickly darting around the dining room for an answer— but, no need, apparently, not with Y/N running up from behind him, passing him and heading through the swinging door to the back room, and coming right back out before it even had the time to close on the image of her hurriedly looking up at the wall clock. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” 

Steve shot another pair of glare-originated daggers Robin’s way before turning back to Y/N, who was scooping her bag off the floor and hastily throwing the sweatshirt around her waist inside, looking at her with his hands on his hips. “You Hendersons and your language, Jesus Christ...” 

She was already halfway across the dining room by the time his sentence was up, spinning around to face them. “I fucking forgot my mom was picking Dustin up today! Jesus, I feel like an ass! He’s gonna be PISSED!”  (Watching her flit around under such stress made it ridiculously hard for Steve to fight the urge to kiss her back to sanity— but the habit of keeping THEM on the downlow somehow stuck even past graduation and slimily crept its way into the haze of summer. Sneaking around was fun, sure, but things like this, like watching her getting upset, were what made it hard for him to not get to be her boyfriend anywhere but her locked bedroom and the backseat of his car.) 

“You’re not even gonna clean up your mess?” 

Y/N huffed, looking right past Steve with knitted brows towards the cash wrap, where Robin inevitably had her smug little arms crossed, that asshole. “I’m sorry Robin, honest, but I’m already running late-- God, my own little BROTHER...Steve?” 

And yeah, he was already wholly annoyed by Robin’s overall shittiness, and yeah, he was, for the millionth time, wondering why exactly the two of them couldn’t just be together, why he couldn’t kiss his own girlfriend goodbye, for God’s sake, but, regardless: it was Y/N, looking at him with those panicked, needy eyes— agreement was practically contractual. He half-heartedly shrugged in a sort of nonverbal agreement, not even bothering to look anywhere but at her, letting the small smile that was fighting its way onto his face find its place painted on his lips. “Yeah, yeah, just get outta here already.”

That beaming smile was what made it all worth it, the nervous tug of the strap of her bag back onto its place on her shoulder, like it’s the first time she feels flattered by his attention and not the millionth. “You’re the best.” She opens the door, steps halfway out before turning back to him: “You’re still coming over tonight, right?” 

Steve blinks, the overtness of the question (and right in front of Robin!) punching the ability to form thoughts right out of him. “Uh-“ 

“I’m sure Dustin misses you.” 

(And there it was, the ever-present ‘Dustin’ excuse that neutralized any cross over the bounds of friendship-acceptable intimacy they met.) 

He nods, gesturing nonsensically before putting his hand back on his hip. “Yeah, no, of course. I miss the little shit too.” 

And there was that smile again. “Cool. I’ll see you at eight, okay?” 

There wasn’t any time to answer before a quick “Bye, Robin!” bounded back into the shop behind her, any last trace of her presence following her squeaky Converse right out the door. 

He swallows the urge to follow her and scoop her up in his arms and love on her until the mall was closed and they got kicked out, pushes it (through all its violent kicking and screaming) down into his gut and turns back to Robin. “You don’t have to be such an asshole to her, you know.” 

Robin just rolls her eyes, grabbing the broom from the corner and holding out to him until he tugs it from her hands. “No reason not to be.” 

(DON’T GET TOO DEFENSIVE, STEVE, STAY COOL...) 

“What did she ever do to you, anyway? You don’t even know her.” 

(GOOD.)

Robin sighs, looking up at the ceiling with a shake of her head. “She’s just so...empty.” 

“Are you kidding? She’s fucking amazing, is what she is! Do you know where she’s headed off to in the fall? She’s amazing, and I’m proud of her. She’s doing way better than slinging ice cream like us losers, that’s for sure.” 

(NOT AS GOOD.)

He clears his throat, rubbing his nose awkwardly and letting the heat of his outburst cool, just for a short, silent moment, before speaking. “She’s not empty, is all I’m saying.” 

Robbin scoffs, hopping up onto the counter. “Wow. You NEED to find a girlfriend, Harrington.”

The very sound of the g-word practically had his heart stopping— he HAS a girlfriend, thank you very much, a beautiful, funny, compassionate girlfriend who was going to college and had a future and was going to do WAY better than working for her dad someday, unlike some people wearing sailor’s uniforms on a Monday morning in July.

Not that he could actually tell Robin any of that.

“You know, actually, I’m good, thanks. More than happy.” 

She rolls her eyes again, crossing her legs on the counter. “Come on, Steve! You were the king of Hawkins High! Maybe not anymore, but, y’know...” She raises her shoulders, opening up her hands in an attempt to find her words. “Listen. I know you think this is the end-all-be-all, but it’s not. Okay? I promise. You can do so much better than Y/N Henderson.” Her eyes fall down to her lap, where she starts picking at her nails disinterestedly before her eyes widen. “SO much better.” 

(Better? Better than Y/N? No way. There was no such thing as better.) 

(Well— maybe not having to be someone’s secret boyfriend is better.) 

(Maybe.) 

“I’m not— we’re not dating.” 

He can’t bring up the same passion from his bleeding heart that he’d felt only moments ago, echoes of “so much better…” dribbling around in his skull, one good free throw away from his breaking point. 

(It stung extra hard that time, for whatever reason, like embarrassed salt in the wound of growing doubt.) 

Robin hops off the counter, unfurling her legs as her sneakers THWAPPED onto the tile flooring before giving Steve a pat on the shoulder. “I know. That’s what makes it sad.” She backs herself into the break room, saluting to him from the base of her stark white hat. “I’m taking a fifteen. Let me know when you’re done cleaning up all those Reese’s, dingus.” 

The door swings back and forth, in and out, matching his slow, steady heartbeat as his gaze falls to the floor. 

The candy didn’t look that sweet anymore. 

[longassr1de]

Stained

Pairing: Doyoung x fem!reader

Genre: smut 🔞

Word count: ~3k

Summary: In which you and Doyoung are self proclaimed mortal enemies, and all your friends are tired of the underlying sexual tension neither of you ever seem to notice.

Warnings: Shit attempt at plot. Slight femdom reader, switch!Doyoung, oral (female receiving), a complete waste of drinks, getting locked in a room, oh and uuhh an otphj.

A/N: I actually hate this and might delete it later but... I just wanted to have some new content on here, I guess..?😞

It had been the most wonderful of days, emphasis on was. The sun was shining, there was an amazing breeze, you’d finally finished your week and were ready to relax at home for the weekend. That was, until he happened. You were making your way across campus to your car, eager to enjoy some of your favorite music and refreshing air conditioning, but sparing a glance at your phone due to an incoming message was all it took. Due to your distractedness, you had managed to bump into someone, spilling the coffee in your other arm all over the innocent bystander. But this was no ordinary bystander, it just so happened that you had the misfortune of running into your self-proclaimed mortal enemy, who was now glaring at you and cursing everything you stood for as the realization and implications sunk in.

“Do you ever look where you’re going, Jesus Christ,” Doyoung begins to complain, seething at the sticky iced substance seeping through his knot sweater and down onto his jeans. He must have assumed you never pay attention to where you’re going due to you always pretending to be very interested in whatever was on your phone when he was around, little did he know that was just so you would avoid having to deal with him and his attitude. When you finally look up at him, having felt like all of this happened in slow-motion despite not even being a minute’s worth of time, you find yourself caring a lot less than you would have if you’d spilled coffee over... well, just about anyone else.

“Oops,” you ooze sarcasm, giving him the fakest of smiles as you fully intend to just keep walking by. Doyoung quickly moves to grab your arm, exasperated by the cold shoulder he was given after something he didn’t even cause.

Was there really any one solid reason you hated Doyoung, you pondered. The way he always seemed to carry himself around your presence had never quite rubbed you the right way, let alone not having gotten off on the right foot to begin with. You’d sat next to him once during a sociology lecture you’d been late to after having overslept, and he made sure it was absolute torture for you, relentlessly teasing everything from your pajama pants to the night before’s smudged mascara. It was the little things about him, you think, that pissed you off the most. How arrogant he was, how much of a know-it-all he was, and how he always bragged about his family’s money, flaunting endlessly. So as you come back to the moment, watching as Doyoung prattles your ear off, you realize he’s expecting an answer to a question you never heard; all of his monologue had sounded to you the way a fish in a bowl would hear anything, truthfully.

“Come again?” you say with clear disdain.

He begins to repeat himself, but not before rolling his eyes to high heaven and dramatically running his hand through his bright blue hair- wait, since when had he had colored hair? You mentally slapped yourself to try and focus, which seemed to be something you were incapable of today. “I asked what you were going to do to remedy the situation?” He arches a brow and crosses his arms expectantly, instantly regretting it and uncrossing his arms as his sweater sticks to his skin in all the wrong ways.

“I was just planning on remedying my mood by walking away from you entirely, Dodo,” you chastise, mocking his sour attitude with a childish nickname. As if he wasn’t already tired from a long day, running into you had been the cherry on top, and he was about ready to tear you and your smart mouth a new one by this point.

“Look here your highness,” he emphasizes the pet name but appears as if it had burned his tongue to even offensively call you such a thing, “listen to me, and listen very well. I, quite frankly, couldn’t give less of a shit what you wanted, much less if you’d rather I dropped dead right now. You fucked up and you spilled your coffee on me. Now you either get it together and fix the situation, or I’ll fix it myself, and it won’t be pretty,” Doyoung spat, turning red in the face by the time he’s done yelling at you in the near desolate parking garage.

“I hate to break it to you, but the situation will never be pretty, not as long as it somehow involves you,” you snort, leaving him to stew in a puddle of blind rage and coffee stains.

It isn’t until about two weeks later that you even see Doyoung again, but you can be sure that he has not forgotten about his revenge for even a minute since. And it was just all too easy now, seeing you at the library studying for your exams, and just his luck that you’d picked today of all days to wear a white t-shirt. To him, god was a woman and her name was Ariana Grande, but to you... karma was a bitch, and you were about to find out his name was Kim Doyoung.

As you’re turning the page to answer one of the final questions of your psychology review, you see someone trip out of the corner of your eye, noticing a second too late to dodge the oncoming downpour of nearly an entire red Gatorade bottle. Once again, in slow motion, you watch what feels like a murder scene of your hard work and innocent shirt, all the meanwhile Doyoung has the audacity to smirk at you before acting the victim. As he gets up to clean off his arm in the bathroom, you grab onto it and glare at his form. If looks could kill, he’d have been burned to a crisp the second your eyes landed on his form.

“Is there something that seems to be the matter, darling?” he grins cheekily down at your shivering form, lips upturning further victoriously when you can’t seem to find an answer. “Or has the cat got your tongue?” He’s gone before you know it, satisfied with having been able to even the score.

And so the childish war began, with either of you attempting to trip one another, or steal a parking spot from the other, or just screw each other over at the campus cafeteria somehow. Both of your groups of friends were honestly sick and tired of the way you two would act when it came to the other, and had decided upon a revenge of their own; a mouse trap of sorts for you both to dispel the underlying tension that had gone unnoticed to everyone but the both of you.

One of your closest friends had invited you to a dorm she’d claimed was having party, and you were more than happy to oblige. (Phase 1 complete.) Meanwhile, Doyoung’s friends had lied through their teeth, managing to convince him that they were bringing over some guests to have a boozy game night. (Phase 2 complete.) It wasn’t until you were being shoved into the bathroom of said dorm upon arriving, hearing the door lock from the outside, that you had noticed Doyoung sitting on the floor, having already been locked inside. He may not have been Einstein, but he was no idiot, and now that he knew what his friends’ plan had been all along, he was absolutely furious.

“Are you kidding me? So what, this was their master plan? Lock us in a room and hope we don’t kill each other?” Doyoung runs his hands through his messy hair for the umpteenth time since being stuck in the small room, feeling as if his roots would be tugged out any minute now.

“Or maybe they were hoping you’d confess your undying love for me, aww how romantic!” you gasp dramatically, cooing before blinking innocently at his deadpan expression, although you were anything but. “Did they at least leave us any food or drinks?” You start to look around the bare room, grateful to at least have kept your phone on you.

“I’d first profess my undying loathing for you,” he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes, standing up to try once again and open the door somehow. You simply watch him struggle, takin a seat on the sink and trying to lie to yourself about totally not checking him out in that tight little tee of his. Perhaps you could loathe someone’s entire being and yet still think that maybe, just maybe, they weren’t completely unattractive in your eyes. (And other lies you told yourself as you absolutely did not imagine scratching up his broad shoulders.)

You hadn’t even realized you were say dream until Doyoung had snapped you out of it. “The hell are you thinking about that you’re biting your lip for?” he muses, wondering how you’ve remained calm instead of trying to fight his head off by now. “You must be real hungry if you’re that spaced out.”

“Yeah, starving.” Lying seems to be all you can do today, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from losing the last grips of your sanity.

“You’re always welcome to eat my ass,” he retorts, smiling sweetly as if he’d offered anything of value.

“First of all, what ass? And second of all, fuck you.” You picked at your nails, starting to feel boredom hit.

“Fuck me? You’re more than welcome to, if that’s how you’d like to kill your time in here,” Doyoung teases back, curious as to how far he could push you, wanting to see you break.

“The nerve! To think I would ever fuck you, in your dreams!” You scoffed at the proposition as if you hadn’t just been wondering what it would feel like to ride him a few moments ago.

“In my dreams or yours, darling? Is that why there are bags under your eyes, are your wet dreams of me leaving you restless?” You felt your jaw drop at his shameless statements, racking your typically witty brain to come up with any sort of retort. Any conscious thought leaves your brain when Doyoung leans in and purrs at your ear. “Why not make your dreams a reality then?”

You’re unsure of just how it happens or why you go for it, but before you know it, you’re pulling Doyoung in by the collar and sucking on his bottom lip, dragging it away with your teeth as you pull back.

“W-What was that for?” he asks, incredulous.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” you say as you lean back in your seated position, almost falling deeper into the sink before he catches you out of reflex. His arms on your waist have you feeling some kind of way, you realize, and it isn’t long before you’re devouring his lips in another kiss. He lets out a little whine as you move down to kiss across the expanse of his throat, pausing to suck at his Adams apple and making his knees buck in the process.

“You’re all talk, aren’t you?” Your eyes sparkle at the realization, watching as Doyoung freezes in fear of being caught. “You act tough but you let yourself get bossed around in bed huh? No, actually, you get off on this, don’t you?” Your newfound confidence seemingly oozes out through your pores, a wicked grin playing upon your lips as your nails scratch lightly along his spine, forcing a shiver from him. “So tell me, are you gonna be a good boy for me, or am I gonna have to punish you like the little bitch you are?” Your eyes don’t falter in registering the way his mouth almost visibly waters.

“N-No, I’ll behave, I swear!” Oh, this will be fun, you thought. You’ve only ever been in charge a handful of times, but you craved the power that this kind of intimacy brought you. Let alone the fact that you’d managed to get the Kim Doyoung, former bane of your existence, on his knees for you. Quite literally.

You remain seated at the edge of the sink, having tugged your dress upwards just enough so that Doyoung could properly eat you out. He wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t his tongue that had impressed you, no, it was his fingers. He had long, slender fingers that curved just right inside of you, making you clutch at the edge of the sink until the color of your knuckles began to shift. As you saw his free hand reach down to coax his length through his pants you reached for his hair and pulled him off of you.

“Did I tell you you could touch yourself?” He murmured a negative, trying to pout as if it would change your mind, because he felt as if he was going insane from ignoring his throbbing length. “You’ll only get to come if you play nice, so if I catch you touching yourself again, you’re gonna regret it,” you scold. Doyoung makes you come around two of his fingers, biting lightly at your clit as your hands can’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away entirely. You end up opting for the latter as it becomes too much, breaking away from him to catch your breath as he pants from exhaustion. “Should I be nice and let you have some fun now?” To which he nods enthusiastically, unconsciously letting out a small moan at just the thought of it all.

You guide him to sit on the floor, straddling his lap as you do so, unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans and briefs down just enough to pull out his length. You slowly take his cock in your hand, just barely grazing at first and luring him into a false sense of security. He closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall behind him, a string of profanities leaving his mouth as your own sucks at his tip. Your thumb runs down his sensitive shaft and you deem him hard enough by now after all your teasing.

“Ah ah, open your eyes, I want you to look at me,” you command as you peel his arms away from your hips, allowing them to settle on your lower thighs instead so he couldn’t control your movements. Weakly, Doyoung opens his eyes to look up at your face, wondering when the little devil in front of him suddenly became the angel on top of him, holding the key to a paradise of pleasure. Your grab his cock as your hips slowly sink downwards, running his length through your wet folds, enjoying his whimper before you lower yourself onto him completely, thighs now in contact with the rough denim of his jeans. Short, jagged breaths escape past his lips, his vision blurring as his glassy eyes try to fathom the pleasure of your tight, wet heat encasing his needy cock.

“P-Please, do something, anything,” he mutters out, too scared to disobey but too horny to stay quiet. You shush him gently before slipping your tongue past his lips, beginning to ascend off his shaft before lowering yourself back down, repeating the process in a tortuously slow manner. You enjoy every single one of Doyoung’s moans that you swallow, a few grunts of your own when your self control begins to slip, grinding against him every time you descend and meet the added friction of denim. Chasing your second orgasm, you remind him that he can’t cum until you give him the ok, rubbing at your clit until you’re seeing white and the coil in your belly hits just right. You’ve just finished coming all over his cock when you pull away of him and climb off his lap, leaving him baffled as to why you were tucking him away and zipping his jeans back up.

“D-Did I do something wrong? What happened?” Doyoung grabs at the hem of your dress like a lost child, eyes wide and mouth gaping in disbelief.

“Sshh, it’s ok baby, you’ll get to cum, we’re just doing something different now.” He’s too wrapped up in finally being allowed to come that he thinks nothing of your strange ways, his brain was mush at this point under your heavenly touch. You stroke his length over his pants, placing open-mouthed kisses across his stomach as you wait to exact the perfect revenge. And you get your wish when moments later, he’s coming hard and fast, a large, dark, wet spot forming across the front of his light blue jeans.

You fix yourself up using the bathroom mirror, making sure you’re presentable when you jangle the doorknob, and sure enough, it finally gives way this time. Looking back at Doyoung who looks like he might pass out on the floor any minute now, you bend down to wish him farewell. “Thanks for the orgasms, baby boy,” he smiles shyly in return. “Oh, and I hope you enjoy walking back to your room covered in cum,” you finally bring up before walking out of the bathroom and out of the empty dorm room. Only once you had left and Doyoung had gotten over his post orgasmic bliss did the meaning of your words sink in... you’d gotten your revenge by leaving him with an even more questionable stain, making it look like he’d just finished jerking off in the bathroom. And as he goes to quietly leave the restroom, he runs into all three of his roommates, eyes widening comically upon their collective laughter. It looked like this war was far from over, but perhaps a truce could be called in the form of the age old system of enemies with benefits.

[snkpolls]

SnK Chapter 99 Poll Results

The chapter 98 poll closed with 1,751 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated.

RATE THE CHAPTER 1,722 Responses

On the “awful” to “awesome” scale of 1-5, nearly 70% of respondents rated “Guilty Shadow” with a “5″, making it the highest rated chapter since we started polling. Well done, Isayama!

On that day, Marley received a grim reminder... this chapter woke up the obsessed snk fan in me, finally JESUS CHRIST

SNK has always been a wild ride, but I don't believe I've ever been this excited and frustrated that I don't have the next chapter in my hands RIGHT NOW- if only to satisfy the itch of knowing which half-hidden face is who from Paradis. And also to figure out what they've done to Porco, Pieck and Zeke to neutralize them while Eren gives Reiner the most uncomfortable tableside chat.

My heart was pounding throughout the entire chapter. The last time that happened was chapter 84 and I gotta say, I finally feel like this whole Marley arc has been worth it. What an adrenaline rush it's become! Now that's now Attack On Titan is supposed to be. I can't wait to see everybody else again and proceed to reach the climax of the story.

The hype for SNK 100 is too real. Everything will explode

I need Ch100 right now immediately. Waiting another month is going to be torture. In the meantime I hope Porco and Pieck enjoy their time in the pit. If it turns out that Helos is Levi I will eat my own platform boots

It was amazing. Really great story.

I'm so glad this chapter is fake and SnK ended last month with everyone having a huge pizza party!

....is it December yet?

  DID THIS CHAPTER SHOOK YOU? 1,711 Responses

To not be excited by this chapter was simply not an option, but I’ll assume that those who voted “Yes”  are slightly more subdued than the majority of us who shouted “AW YISS”.

omfg hype for next chapter!!! How does Eren not have a leg, it really should've grown back, this doesn't make sense. Why is he even there, I feel like I missed something but it's probably just this manga's bizarre structuring. I've been selling my soul the past few months. There is nothing more to sell.

Kill me now The hype is REAL. I had a feeling issue #100 would be THE BANGER. This issue (#99) however set the stage for the next one. We have potentially Connie and Jean going undercover, we have Willy's solution that is just about to be revealed, the Asian woman's sudden leave, etc. I am really excited to see what will happen next month. Just need to add: seeing Eren's hand cut to threaten Reiner and Falco was such a power move, I had chills all over.

Boy howdy this was crazy I'll tell you what

Holy crap I love isayama. What a genius!

God help me I cannot wait another month

Endgame right here, brothers.

#shooketh

  WHAT SIDE CHARACTER MOMENT DID YOU MOST APPRECIATE? 1,720 Responses

The giant red chunk that wins this question  is the “All of the Above” option with 26.4% of the vote. “Every character with a partially hidden face” was second with 23.8%. There was plenty of excitement around Trapdoor-kun. He came in third with close to 20% of the vote.

I hope the SnK world has a heaven or some shit, because then Bertolt can maybe be finally happy together with his dad at least ;-;

ANNIE IS ALIVE AND FREE CHAPTER 100 HYYYYYYPE

I love moment with Trapdoor-kun/Connie (I hope it's him). He promised Reiner in Utgard Castle that he'll return the favor and I want to see their reunited. Maybe Connie will save Gabi and the other kids in this shitstorm. Please Isayama! Connie needs his personal moment!

  ON THE SCALE FROM “FLUFFY KITTEN” TO “ACTUAL PENNYWISE”, HOW CREEPY WAS EREN IN THIS CHAPTER? 1,727 Responses

Eren’s creep factor was strong! More than 70% of us picked a 4 or 5 on the “Actual Pennywise” scale.

Eren is 100% savage. Damn I'd be lying to myself if I said I didn't like him. His meddling works so well with his bitter ass and his sense of entitlement over making all these fuckers taking his freedom away disappear and get their comeuppance (read: the whole world). Fucking human worms.

Eren using Falco as a hostage makes me cry

Eren gave me fucking chills of fear

I'm loving this Eren alignment shift. Lawful Good boy is changing and I am HERE for this.

Eren's "Same reason as you" and "I don't have a choice" are the single most savage moment in the series.

I don't like Eren at all... Poor Reiner

Eren is frickin INSANE

  ON THE SCALE FROM 1 - 420/69, HOW MUCH DID EREN ACTIVATE YOUR HARDENING ABILITIES IN THIS CHAPTER? 1,713 Responses

The creep factor and hobo hair didn’t hurt Eren’s attractiveness for the majority of the fandom since 36.1% would love to be locked in the basement with him right now. The second most popular choice was the extreme opposite. 22.2% selected “ewww no” on the question about Eren’s attractiveness.

why did y'all have to write "Lock me in your basement, Hobo Daddy!"

Protect Reiner Braun You've made me have sexual thoughts about long haired Eren, damn you pollster!!!!

Eren made both my jaw and panties fall straight to the floor. It's finally getting somewhere.

my mom called eren hobo daddy o__O"

Eren being so chilled out and yet so chilling at the same time...how does one being so cold make the room seem a lot hotter than it actually is?!

I want to officially shame Eren for telling Mikasa to cut her hair during training and now he could model for   L'Oréal (I love his hair but he is a hypocrite)

EREN FUCKING JAEGER. I want to say he's cool... but I feel so strangely conflicted. I'm turned on by his loony face but at the same time fucking terrified that it's all going to crumble. He'd grown so much. I can't believe the kid that we used to adore has turned into such a beast.

eren would be a 4/5 if he shaved his facial hair imo

  WHAT WAS EREN’S MOST CHILLING MOMENT? 1,717 Responses

Again with the “All of the above” as top pick. The most popular write in was “Reiner. Sit”. We clearly made a mistake when we forgot to include that.

Reiner. Sit.

His eyes all the time, they're like windows to hell

Everything! Eren was so chilling and bad this chapter, I love love loved it!

The fact that he's still missing a leg, it should've grown back, does he just keep cutting it off?

Messing with the head of an already mentally unstable Reiner

Eren did not come to play. Cutting his hand was a power move and then when he said "same as you." I can't wait to see him transform into a Titan. Reiner wasn't ready for this. He looks like he's gonna pass out.

I never thought i needed psycho!eren and badass!eren in my life. But then i read this chapter and HOOOOOOLY SHIT!

  WHICH OF REINER’S TORTURED FACES WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 1,707 Responses

I’m borrowing a quote from a friend who said, “Reiner had enough panels of his sanity crumbling like pie crust to fill a photo album”. We thought so too and had a hard time limiting ourselves to just these six. The look of horror on page 20 was Reiner’s expression as Eren told him, “I’m the same as you. I didn’t have any other choice.” It was the winner with 44.5% of the voice.

Note to Isayama: If you want to torture a character, hands on the face is the way to go (even when those hands are strangely tiny.)

Don't freak out, Reiner, your buddy Eren has come to save the world just like you've always wanted.

I wonder how bad  will Reiner's strabismus be when Eren ultimately touchs the Bertolt and Annie subject.

Someone please protect Reiner D: (and maybe give him a hug)

ISAYAMA STAHP TORTURING REIGNER!

#stopreinerabuse2017 >:) 

Reiner is the true victim here man

If Reiner didn't have a drinking problem before he sure has one now

I really don't like seeing Reiner looking so scared... It makes me feel so bad and helpless because I can't do anything. ;-;

I’m expecting Reiner to go full insane next chapter. Seriously, he can only be pushed so far!

I absolutely love Reiner's suffering faces :D I also loved how shocked Falco was. I have a feeling that something bad is going to happen, that why Eren told him to stay. He wants to save his life. I only wonder what will happen with the other kids.

reiner has baby hands

  CAN YOU PINPOINT THE EXACT MOMENT FALCO’S HEART SHATTERED? 1,700 Responses

This was not a fun chapter for our poor little bean. There was no shortage of moments with him looking on with wide-eyed horror as the situation was unfolding.  His expression on page 35 was the landslide winner. It’s the moment Falco realized Eren must’ve met Reiner during his time on Paradis.

My boy Falco doesn't deserve this.

DONT HURT BABBY FALCO 

Calm the f down Eren! You’re scaring Falco!

Falco is too precious for this messed up world

  WHAT IS RANDO MCSOLDIER WHISPERING TO MADS? 1,709 Responses

We have a poll meme now and don’t think I wont use it! Thank you to the 29.1% of you for playing along. We were a close second. Thank you also to everyone who took the question seriously. One respondent suggested they might be whispering about the fact that all the warriors were missing. I love that thought.

Yes. There's sour cream in Marley.

For the question of what Rambo McSoldier whispered, I'm actually kinda wondering if he's whispering about someone being missing from the crowd. (I.e, Reiner.)

how much farther is my sour cream joke going to go

I do NOT trust Eren one bit and we still do NOT know if there's sour cream. Crazy stuff man.

This wasn't an option for the question about what the soldier was whispering to Mads, but I thought it had to do with that panel where the guy on the rooftop said to "report it" no matter how small it is. The Marley soldier was relaying that report, whatever it is.

The lack of concern over the disappearance of all the Warriors from the audience is alarming...unless it's part of their plan, which removing the fighters from the crowd sounds like something inline with what Paradis would be attempting if they're about to hijack the play.

  CHARACTER ALLEGIANCES! WHICH SIDE DO YOU THINK EACH PERSON IS ULTIMATELY SUPPORTING?

So much uncertainty here! We are truly divided over Willy, Zeke and Kiyomi’s loyalties.

I do not think that Zeke would be on Paradis side, he had that chance and discarded it as an idiot.

The Warhammer Titan seems to know so very much about Paradis and the truth (and Eren's name) that I think it's no coincidence he looks like an adult long hair Armin.

Willy was such a sweet pie in this chapter. I wish he joined the Team Paradise.

Why did the Asian lady wish Willy good luck and then immediatly got away from the play as fast as she could? The plot thickens...

Everyone need to calm tf down and stop being huge mega douchebags on the whole warriors vs paradis sides of the fandom Ima lose my goddamn mind let yams tell the fucking story. This fandom is killing me far more effectively than yams ever could, crying Reiner or no!

The Asian lady and the rest of the Azumabito definitely know something, as they didn’t stay for Willy’s play, and she said that “she hoped he’d play his role ‘safely’”

What is Willy's game? With so many important people there, it is setup for a massacre. But, why tell the truth beforehand? There is a part of me thinking that it is all a setup to Willy simply saying we're all going back to Paradis.

  WHAT ALLIANCE DO YOU THINK IS MOST LIKELY? 1,697 Responses

EZ and REZ feelz so strong! A sizable percentage think Kiyomi is also a part of the alliance.

I love/hate how much Isayama plays with us (?).. this is the worst who is with  who and why and when and how is it its 99 chapters and i am stiff as confused as when i watched the first anime chapter in 2013...

Yeah, I still believe in Reiner + Zeke + Eren alliance. Grim Reminder won't happen and I will be a happy, happy fan." İt's amazing!

I think Willy is working with Armin, whereas, Eren is working with Zeke. Isayama did say they were going to split.

I think Zeke is helping Eren for the time being but I also think it is only a temporary alliance. He will double-cross Paradis like he did the Restorationists and Marley before the end, and he will be a sizable end-game threat to both Paradis and Marley.

"Lady" Kiyomi of the Azmabito family seemed like she was teasing Willy before his performance, since he was so nervous. But then, she said "you're very brave. And you know our family very well", she seemed like she was threatening Willy

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE CRAZY EREN. I think he's gonna offer an alliance with Reiner so they can both save the Eldians. I hope the SC will appear next chapter!

I'm willing to bet 'The Owl' Eren knew Willy and the Asian chick when he was still living.

  WHY WERE PORCO AND PEICK SEPARATED? 1,715 Responses

62% believe Porco and Pieck were captured to keep them from meddling. An even larger majority believe Zeke was in on it. Hmmmm....

about porco and pieck. I think they will be locked somewhere. But not to take their titan. Well, it's good opportunity to take their titan but... who wants do that anyway? Jean, connie? I think not.

PLEASE SAVE PIECK

"We done fucked up" -peick and porco

My favourite panel is Pieck looking at 'springer, not a shower' whilst falling into the sin bin. Wow, she's perfect.

Porko remains oblivious

  WAS ZEKE PART OF THE PLOT TO SEPARATE PORCO AND PEICK? 1,701 Responses

That would be a solid “yes”.

Zeke does seem to comply with too much questionable activity to not be working secretly with someone. He doesn't question being separated from Pieck and Porco, he's the only one not facing the guard that summons them, he let - encouraged- Reiner to go with Falco right as the ceremony started, and the baseball mitt Eren had likely had something to do with him. The Zekeret is still a wild card though so it makes all this hard to pinpoint.

  WHO IS THE SOLDIER THAT TOSSED PORCO AND PIECK INTO THE BALL PIT? 1,691 Responses

Nearly 80% of the fandom thinks Connie is  parading around Marley as a very tall Marleyan soldier. The write in responses on this were insane!

A pikupork shipper

Hajime Isayama

The Plothelping Titan

If Pieck knows him, the most probable option is Connie, buuuut... Is he even taller than Porco? He used to be really short, has he grown up?

When I first read the chapter and found similiarities between Connie and the trap-kun soldier I was like "what the fuck?!" And than I thought Connie being that soldier would be absolutely LIT.

I don't think any of the background characters are people we know. We saw how Isayama does that with Amputee-Kun, he appeared several chapters before the official reveal and there was no doubt once it was done. Trapdoor-kun, Helos Cosplayer, anyone else? Nope. as expected of pieck, she figured out the soldier was an impostor

Personally I really hate how people are making these predictions and analyzing details like chin shape in attempt to recognize him. We simply do not see enough of his face to tell who it is so it's pointless that people are arguing about it so vehemently. It could be Connie. I could be Levi. It most definitely isn't Armin. It could be a whole lot of people but right now at least half of the people will be wrong about it so arguing is going to get us nowhere. End of rant.

Zofia from the future, who traveled through paths

  DID PIECK PASS A MESSAGE TO THE SOLDIER SHE HUGGED? 1,717 Responses

Yes. As expected.    WHO IS THE HELOS COSPLAYER? 1,703 Responses

Jean trounced this poll question with 64.4% of the vote. “No one important” was second with 18.4%. 8% are hopeful it’s Levi.

A Majestic Stallion

A member of Paradis Team, but it is too early to say who

Jean dressed up as Levi aka the REAL Helos (Deja Vu).

Kenny "The Ripper" Ackerman rides again!

I want the Helos cosplayer to be Hange, but if it's not, Armin would be interesting.

  WHAT ARE YOU MOST HOPEFUL FOR IN CHAPTER 100? GO NUTS AND CHOOSE AS MANY AS YOU WANT. 1,718 Responses

1,161 (67.6%) Seeing the rest of the SC

1,134 (66%) Annie. Please. It’s been 84 years,

1,027 (59.8%) Information about character loyalties

1,013 (59%) Learning Willy’s “one solution”

875 (50.9%) The Warhammer Titan

788 (45.9%) Eren wreaking havoc

781 (45.5%) More Reiner suffering

747 (43.5%) RIP everyone sitting in the audience at the play

652 (38%) Grim Reminder

565 (32.9%) Action with the Asian Clan

534 (31.1%) Overwhelmed Falco turning into a falcon and flying away

Seeing the rest of the Survey Corps is our dearest wish, followed by a sighting of Annie. The most common write-in was simply “Levi”.

RIP Gabi and everyone else in the audience. But mostly Gabi.

I'm saying it now - there won't be another Grim Reminder. It would be the worst possible move to make. However, I can see some sort of staged assault happening.

What if chapter 100 is just an elaborate reenactment of the finale of shrek two where shrek and the gang ambush the castle with a collosal gingerbread man whilst fairy godmother sings. Honestly I would pay good money to see willy start singing 'i need a hero' with a choir behind him make it happen isayama I believe in you.

I am going to sell my soul for chapter 100

All the pieces are being set in place. It is about to begin. We don't know for sure what will happen but things are about to get wild. Prepare the feelingstrain cause we're all hopping aboard

  HOW BADLY DO YOU WANT TO RETURN TO THE ORIGINAL CAST ON PARADIS? 1,712 Responses

No matter how great a chapter is, we remain desperate for the original cast. Last month 34.5% select “5” on the poll. This month that number was up to 38.1%.

And gimme some of that paradis crew daddy yamyams ✊️💦✊️💦😩

I'm severely lacking in Ackervitaminz

I'm tired of Marley to be honest. I hope next chapter shakes me, because this chapter didn't at all.

i still wanna know what the little miserable gremlin man is doing and my badass child Hanji

I loved the Marley chapters, but GOD I NEED MY PARADIS CREW THE SNEAK PEAKS ARE KILLING ME

while I haven't really been in any rush to return to the main cast, I'll be really excited to learn that they've all infiltrated Marley in this way, and for some final smack down to begin soon.

It's just a setup chapter I just want my Mikasa fix.

GIVE ME MIKASA AND ARMIN  BACK. I MISSED MY BABIES. I WOULD SELL BOTH OF MY KIDNEYS TO SEE THEM WELL AND HAPPY AGAIN. JUST GIVE ME THAT WISH ON CHAPTER 100 ISAYAMA. AM I ASKING TOO MUCH?

  WHICH CHARACTERS DO YOU GENERALLY ENJOY THE MOST 1,717 Responses

Cries forever for my vets.

Nearly 100 chapters in and I feel like I'm losing my damn mind. Oof. Isayama...amazing. PS: I will continue to select 'The Vets' even long after The Vets are gone!!!

(fist bumps you, my friend!)

   WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES 1,695 Responses

Last month this question was 40% Tumblr and 48% Reddit. This month Reddit was most active on the poll with 56.8% of the responses. The other platforms remained consistent.

"Where do you primarily discuss the series" giving 4chan the silent treatment?  Although I guess what they do doesn't really count as discussing.

  ANY OTHER CHAPTER THOUGHTS YOU'D LIKE TO SHARE? We had 360 write-in responses and some were essay sized in length! Thank you all for your enthusiasm! Here’s a portion of the comments.

  EXTRA DANCC

It's about to be lit fam

NERD-SQUAD TO THE RESCUE! Nothing but goosebumps for that entire chapter thankyou.

If Helos is actually a lie created by Marley and Tybur, then was the devil of all the earth a lie too? Or did it exist in reality? Will it return? And how the hell could Tybur know of Kenny and Uri sitting in front of that lake? Does he have some spies on Paradis? All this stuff is just becoming more and more fishy...

I want everyone to die.

Is it just me or did Reiner lose weight? Not aroused. Isayama sensei please try harder.

Pieck grabbing Zophia's shoulders. 100%. A+. As expected.

Okay, so, we've been speculating like mad on how Eren arrived in Marley. Reiner asked the same thing. And Isayama, through Eren's words, answered us: "is that really what you want to ask first?" LIKE DAMN, at this point I'm sure Isayama reads our blogs. At least he answered the "Why", kinda...

for god sake. reiner's suffering have to stop TTTTT-TTTTT

Bertl deserve this world.

Isayama has officially changed his icon to Reiner. Protagonist confirmed. It was Reiner's story all along. We were just along for the ride. The very traumatic ride.

I love the parallel between Reiner and that old man that hanged himself back in Paradis. I'm quite sure that Reiner, like the hanged-man, is looking for judgement. Cool to see how Bert nightmares played a big role in the end.

sc stans are insane I wonder how bad  will Reiner's strabismus be when Eren ultimately touchs the Bertolt and Annie subject.

needs more porco

Is Eren gonna sacrifice himself for the sake of saving the world as a scapegoat? Will his death be the only meaningful one in the whole series??

I hope to God Armin has a different haircut.

Learning that we're getting ova of Lost Girls and reading this chapter was the best way to start my week. I love you I wish Isayama hadn't made Reiner so hot. Too hard to focus on everything else going on =\

if reiner wants to get judged maybe he should look to judge judy for judgement, that'd be lit

I love my shifter kids, but they're fucked.

I don’t personally think there will be a Grim reminder 2.0, Paradis people, ie Armin, Hanji and all, usually don’t fight fire with more fire, they plan better shenanigans. Also, how they would be considered better than marleyans if they did the same stuff? They won’t play this low, they also know that Grim reminder™️ Is everything but effective.

Isayama why it's great that we have all those informative, descriptive chapters but something need to happen. I hope that next chapter will be full of action.

SHOW ME MIKASA AND LET HER AND EREN  BE MARRIED. And let annie be alive and well and dont make reiner any sadder. #chap100 No

Soldier, who are you? Willy, what are you really trying say? Eren, will you start causing some trouble? Levi, come out!" AAAAAAAAAAAaa!!!!

Pieck was actually exactly right! I always loved her design and oppressed but trying her best herb merchant aesthetic. So cool that she saved the lives of Reiner and Zeke, her influence on character relationships and the plot.

In RtS I wanted Reiner dead. Half to end his suffering, half to be vindicated for the things he'd done, but I guess it was Berty Beetle's turn.

I miss Levi so much, it's been such a long time since we've seen him and all I want is for him to keep his promise to Erwin and obliterate Zeke.  I can see him now, sitting with his arms crossed as Zeke enters the room.  "Been a while, you piece of shit.  Not so tough now when you're not ripping a bunch of people in half with rocks, eh?"  He cracks his knuckles.  "I will destroy you.  I will make it hurt.  Because you killed Erwin Smith and I promised him, I *promised him* that I would end this fight for him." Ahhhh please Isayama. <3

CHAOS FOR THE CHAOS GOD The slow build has been so worth it, we're all going to hell and I can't wait

Annie is alive. That shouldn't be a point of discussion anymore,

Please make my children happy, they suffered enough

I really think Jean is the Helos cosplayer because of face/mouth shape. That might be wishful thinking though :') Also DAMN EREN REALLY IS HOBO DADDY

ISAYAMA CAN YOU PLEASE DRAW BERTL FAMILY OR PHOTO OF HOOVER HOUSE OR WHAT SO I CAN REST IN PEACE I WANNA BERTL AGAIN I DONT CARE WITH OTHERS 

I just want to say that the chapter 99 pre release megathread on /r/ShingekiNoKyojin was one of the best things to ever happen, and i'm proud to be a part of it.

Now i just want to see jean What if we're all just too hopeful and in reality the helos cosplayer and trapdoor-kun are just normal people. If Annie isn’t coming back I’m rioting honestly. Also where TF is mikasa?!

I LOVE PIECK SO MUCH she is becoming one of my fave characters. Also hopefully nothing happens to cause Reiner’s mental state to become worse than it is right now. CAN’T WAIT FOR NEXT CHAPTER I think the Asian woman is Mikasa. My evidence to support this claim is that after she talked to Willy, she said ‘let’s go’ to her body guards. As if she knows what’s going on.

Seeing Pieck being smart and quick-witted made me like her even more. I'd be very sad if she ends up being killed or if Porco and her never truly meet the original main cast. Give us those warriors/soldiers interactions Isayama.

Annie...please...it has been too long now...

Regarding Eren he ackwonledged that Reiner and co. were just clueless kids trying to save the world when they destroyed the Wall. And he is stating that he as well has been forced in this role. I think he is trying to bring Reiner to his side as well as to remove a Warrior (and Falco) from the stage where things will soon go wild.

This shit was lit lit lit!!! I need war!

If the marley arc was a dubstep song, this chapter was the part where the song builds up in speed and frequency and ends right before it levels off and the beat subsequently drops. Ya feel? Warriors, come out to plaaaaay.

IMO PIECK IS ON EREN'S SIDE AND SHE ACTED IN FRONT OF PORCO

I want to know who works with who (especially ZEKE), how they arrived in Marley, I want the SC but also I really love the Warriors, asdfghjkl I really don't know what to expect but I love the way Isayama keeps us on this subtle line between ""OMG"" and ""WTF MAN"". I want some answers!  AND I DEFINITELY WANT ANNIE BACK

I hope Sasha is in Marley too. She needs pizza.

Too few panels of Marco's death. 😠

i miss zeke memes

PATHS

I love the art in the recent chapters. I will forgive slow pacing for good art.

Karina is a bitch

Isayama give Reiner a break or kill him already, end the suffering pls

And lastly, the Rick and Morty copypasta meme made it's way into our poll. I laughed!

To be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand Attack on Titan. The humor is extremely subtle, and without a solid grasp of theoretical physics most of the jokes will go over a typical viewer's head. There's also Eren's nihilistic outlook, which is deftly woven into his characterisation - his personal philosophy draws heavily from Narodnaya Volya literature, for instance. The fans understand this stuff; they have the intellectual capacity to truly appreciate the depths of these jokes, to realize that they're not just funny- they say something deep about LIFE. As a consequence people who dislike Attack on Titan truly ARE idiots- of course they wouldn't appreciate, for instance, the humour in Zeke's existential catchphrase "As expected of Pieck 👉😶👉," which itself is a cryptic reference to Turgenev's Russian epic Fathers and Sons I'm smirking right now just imagining one of those addlepated simpletons scratching their heads in confusion as Hajime Isayama's genius unfolds itself on their television screens. What fools... how I pity them. 😂 And yes by the way, I DO have a Reiner and Historia tattoo. And no, you cannot see it. It's for the ladies' eyes only- And even they have to demonstrate that they're within 5 IQ points of my own (preferably lower) beforehand.

Thank you also to those left nice comments about the poll. We appreciate it!

[bloggong]

The poison of self-reliance

“Here is the sweet paradox in how God works. He blesses those who admit that they need help: The poor in spirit are blessed (Matthew 5:3). Sanity has a deep awareness, I need help. I can’t do life right on my own. Someone outside me must intervene. The sanity of honest humility finds mercy, life, peace, and strength. By contrast, saying we don’t need help keeps us stuck on that hamster wheel of making excuses and blaming others. The end result isn’t life and peace; it’s self-righteousness, self-justification, alienation, and bitterness.”

- David A. Powlison

In keeping with the times, I’m starting this post with a David Powlison quote. While I hadn’t actually heard of this man till a sermon this morning during YF (courtesy of a mentor who shall remain anonymous), this quote had the same brick-to-the-face impact as a good’ol Paul Washer sermon.  To quote my brother in Christ Mr Yip, “any other sin can make you experience brokenness that drives you to repentance” but “pride only hardens us”. Alright, I’ve my quota of 2 QUOTES for now. Will check in with another quote in a bit!  Okay, but to contextualize a bit, given the aggressive header for this blog post (which I promise I will get to in due time), it has been around 3 weeks since I’ve started my journey as a NSF (ie. full-time National Serviceman) on Palau Tekong. In this time, I’ve learnt many things, but for the sake of conciseness, I’ll condense it down to the following point.  1. To be responsible, one must be devoted to duty and not themselves.  This statement, which if you examine closely, actually contains the distilled intention of the SAF, of prioritizing our duty to our nation over our own selfish gain, isn’t inherently wrong. In fact, most would argue it is a noble thing to cherish the safety of your country and your loved ones over your own comfort and pleasure.  So why am I bringing this up? And what does this have to do with self-reliance being toxic?  Let me try to explain this in the best way I can.  Through the now countless hours I’ve spent rushing up and down the four flights of stairs in Smart 4/ Long 4/ Admin Kit/ PT kit, my LBS clamping my hip bone, my helmet whacking the edge of my fog-tinted spectacles, as my right hand hovers over my half-filled water canteen and I frantically check to ensure my admin bottle is filled, I have realized that one thing the SAF (and UG in general) ingrains in every soldier is the need to be responsible.  The unspoken rules of Rocky Hill School 4 Coy 1 are as follows. 

Take care of yourself. Don’t be a burden to those around you. Maintain your personal bearings first. 

Help those around you who need help. 

The betterment of the section/ platoon/ company holds higher priority than the needs of any individual recruit. Don’t be selfish.

By the Lord’s manifold grace and infinite mercies, I have not had any major screwups that have resulted in my section or platoon having to pump as of yet. Perhaps my UG background prepared me partially for the punishments we have had to endure so far, but only by His grace have I been able to get all my tasks finished as of now. Here’s the issue though. With the limited admin time we are given in School 4, sometimes limited to 20 minutes every night before lights out, having to shower, do laundry, prepare for the next day’s attire, ensure all items are accounted for, set alarm and numerous other things, I have become a very task-focused creature.  In efficiently finishing tasks delegated to me, I begin to get annoyed with those around who who are unable to do what has been asked of them. When we are made to pump, I get angry at those who are slower than myself. And above all, I realize that in the rank-centric ego-heavy atmosphere of the SAF, self-reliance and one’s physical abilities largely contribute to one’s self-identity. So when, by God’s grace, I attain Gold for IPPT, I don’t give Him glory (or at least, I fail to publicly express it.) Effectively, I fail to live up to the mantle of what Christians are to live for, namely, to the praise of God’s glory.  In the quiet moments of the morning when my phone softly buzzes me awake, I no longer contemplate God’s grace and love in giving me another day of life. Instead, I plan for the day, I try and prepare as best as I can, and I do not commit any of it to God.  In the conduct-laden weeks filled with multiple high keys, I find lesser time to give thanks, and spend my days complaining, mindlessly bantering or stoning. These days, talking nonsense seems much more attractive to me than reading His word. Using my phone to read webtoons is more alluring than opening the Solid Joys app.  Again and again, I am a stubborn child who has been shown the overwhelming sweetness of the love of the Father, yet I remain content chewing on the rotten carcasses of my ego. Spending time in NS has (again), shown me more of who I really am. Under the facade I kept up, Really, I know what the issue is. At the end of the day, it is one of personal pride. What I need more is not confidence or self-esteem. To the contrary, I need a more accurate view of my place in the Universe. I need to see myself as lesser, and the Father as more.  IF anything, I need LESSER confidence in my own worth, and GREATER confidence in the sovereign irresistible grace of the Father.  Truly, the Lord is sovereign, His will will be done. All things WILL be accomplished for His glory, and for His name to be lifted high.  And it is a marvelous, beautiful, awesome privilege that a hell-deserving, forgetful, evil wretch like myself would be claimed as a child of the thrice Holy God, redeemed by the blood of the Lamb, and sanctified daily by the powerful work of the Holy Spirit.  This isn’t simply information. This is good news, tear-jerking, mind-eviscerating news for a wretch who before, had nothing to look forward to but an eternity of suffering under the wrath of a righteous judge.  For someone who has done nothing of worth or value his entire life, it again becomes clear to me when something of value appears. And here, the infinite worth of the eternal life bought for me by the death of the Son of God himself is something I cannot hope to repay, nor is it something my feeble mind can comprehend without God’s grace.  AND so here’s the crux of the matter.  I need to again, be humbled to a point of absolute brokenness. I have to realize that, when faced with all my inadequacies, I am not simply looking at a part of myself that I have failed to ‘train’. Rather, I’m looking at a reflection of my true self.  To quote Mr Paul Washer, “On that day when He comes again, He will pluck all things, all men’s talents, all the best of the human race, and grab it with one hand and exclaim, ‘This is ALL FOR ME’”.  I have to again remember that not only is my faith, all of life, heck, even the whole universe, sustained by Sovereign grace, that all of this is for His glory alone.  ONLY through this can I be turned away from pride, idolatry, and anything that does not point to the blazing heart of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I must become less, so that He may be made much of.  Brothers and Sisters in Christ, please keep me in your prayers. Even as I have anxiety for the 2 weeks of Field Camp coming up next week, I am even more worried that as I return to BMTC tomorrow, I again spiral into the toxicity of self-reliance. That I am foolish enough to consider myself of more worth and more grit than those around me, just because God has graciously bestowed me with experiences that are meant to be used for HIS glory.  I pray that in the coming 2 weeks, as more grace may be shown to me by the Lord, that I may in turn be more gracious to those around me. That I may be less selfish with my time. That I may prize others above myself, but that I may prize Christ as even more valuable than precious gold, or anything else in this life. That I may watch my tongue, that it will not slander with falsehood or callous word, that everything I say and do may point to the Holy, Righteous, Merciful, Loving, eternal Lord I worship. To end, I want to share a short conversation I had with Peter Goh over whatsapp today. To summarize, we both agreed that we were “spiritually despondent”. But that’s an issue right? How can my response to a question “How r you“ be “pretty okay” when I’m feeling “spiritually dry” if “life without Christ is no life at all and life with him is everything” ?

I’m worried. I fear my heart if calloused and blind to my own sin, that I no longer fear the Lord. I fear I no longer treasure His eternal promises and worth above the world. But in equal measure, I will cherish His promises in His word.  Brothers and Sisters, even as I stake my claim not in my own inadequacy, but I take greater confidence in the Father’s ability to turn a wretch like me (again!) toward Him and transform my heart of stone into one of flesh, keep me in prayer. Over these two weeks, I pray I may glorify Him by His supplication alone. Praise the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Truly, all to Him I freely give, for the all surpassing worth of the Lord Jesus Christ. I pray I can start the short book Pastor Razo gave me ‘The practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence” and Greg’s 60-day “Daily reading devotionals” as well, such that when I have my passing out parade, I may take greater confidence in His mercy, grace and love. 

“It was wonderful love that Christ should rather die for us than for the angels that fell. They were creatures of a more noble extract, and in all probability might have brought greater revenues of glory to God; yet that Christ should pass by those golden vessels, and make us clods of earth into stars of glory - Oh, the hyperbole of Christ's love!”

- Thomas Watson

AND

“The more bitterness we taste in sin, the more sweetness we shall taste in Christ.”

- Thomas Watson

SO

Romans 3:23 

for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,

AND

Psalm 115:1

Not to us, Lord, not to us, But to Your name give glory, Because of Your mercy, because of Your truth. 

Praise God, for He is worthy of all praise and worship, and all things.

Soli Deo Gloria.

-Gong

10:02pm

30 Jan 2020

[wildroseofarran]

Simmer and Burn, Part II || Bretan, Torstwyn, Emmanuel, & Judy

Brett/Judy: Brett was starting to think he should've just stayed in bed today. Then Bo wouldn't have caught him in the shower and later had an episode that led them to have a fight that had caused Bo to yell for Torsten and had ultimately led them to walk away in opposite directions which in turn wouldn't have led to his current predicament.

You see, gentle reader, the sheriff was being stalked.

By a tiny white hawk.

He'd ended up retreating into the woods to cry in private and feel miserable after his fight with Botan. And he hadn't actually noticed the little hawk when it had first appeared. It wasn't until the bird kept flying into his line of sight as he walked that Brett realized it was following him.

"What the hell is going on today?" he wondered aloud, looking up at the tiny ball of white fluff up in a branch.

Bo/Torsten: Bo had taken to an old routine which had gone unused for months. Months of attempting to contain his breakdowns, his anger, his sanity. There was an unorthodox comfort in having the Icelander as a shadow. Bo ordered his usual at the first place he'd met the sheriff. Torsten sat on a bench across the street and called his sister. He then made his way to the docks to admire the fishing boats and yachts. His shadow enjoyed his cigarette of the day. Not a word between them.

Brett/Judy: He walked deeper into the woods. The bird followed.

He walked until he reached the river bank. The bird followed.

He stripped down to his underwear, got into the river, and stayed under for as long as his lungs would allow.

The bird was perched on the rock he'd laid his clothes on, watching him.

Enough was enough. Time to tap into those vampiric powers. "Okay. You've been following me for over an hour. Why?"

Brett could've sworn the little hawk looked surprised that he was speaking to it, but that was nothing compared to his surprise when he recognized the voice that spoke back to him.

"You're sick!"

He blinked. "....Judy?"

"You're sick! I have to help you!"

Bo/Torsten: Bo stared off to nothing particular as he tried to understand what had happened. Why was he so volatile? Why was he so willing to scream?

With his weight against the nearest rail, he searched for the revenant. Torsten looked up to the stirring in his peripheral.

"What was I like before? You claim to have known me."

"I did."

"So what was I like?"

Perhaps he needed another cigarette. "About as demanding and bossy as you are now."

His brow wrinkled with aggravation. "That's not funny."

"It's not meant to be. It's true."

"Was I...angry?"

Torsten scratched at his chin, watched the water. "No. You were a genius, and with that came a sense of arrogance. I liked it. You're still you, you're just... under a different set of circumstances."

"Am I not as intelligent now?" asked Bo.

"You're lacking a lifetime of memory. You're still that man." He felt for his pack of cigarettes, held it and read the Surgeon General's warning. "I bet your head is full of languages. That was your strength."

Brett/Judy: Was it possible to cower in a river? Because Brett felt like that was exactly what he was doing.

"Judy, is that you? Are you Judy Gaia?"

The little hawk jumped up and down on her rock, wings spread in her alarm/excitement. "Yes, I'm Judy!"

"But how--"

"You're sick, Sheriff Brett! I have to make you better!"

What was happening? Why was little Judith Gaia a hawk? Why did she think he was sick? "Judy, sweetie, I'm not sick!"

"Yes you are I can smell it! It smells like rotten ice cream!"

"What smells like rotten ice cream?"

"Your clothes and your watch and your phone and your badge!"

Bo/Torsten: Bo didn't understand the magnitude of Torsten's statement until the revenant began to test him. He said hello in Icelandic, asked how his day was in Greenlandic, if he could understand in Danish. He explained that German was technically his second language in the language itself. He laughed and explained their first argument had been in Norwegian. The more he spoke, the more the human teared, chin quivered. All of the languages and he understood everything. It was overwhelming.

"You're in an English-speaking country and your first language is Norwegian. You were bound to know those. You had no reason to dig deeper."

Brett/Judy/Emmanuel: Brett was so hopelessly confused and Judy wasn't making anything clearer. She was simply too excited and wrapped up in what she was trying to convey, or maybe she was just too little.

"Judy, I need you to slow down and tell me what--"

"I need to get Daddy! Don't go away, Sheriff Brett! Stay there!" She was flying away before Brett could so much as blink.

"Judy! Ju--Jesus wept." Brett eased himself out of the river, searching the sky for any sign of her. "What is happening!" By the time he'd shaken off the excess water and gotten dressed again (his poor uniform was ruined), he'd almost convinced himself that he'd hallucinated the whole thing. This is what happened when you'd been through the emotional wringer since waking up; your mind gave up on you.

Unless it didn't and the bookstore owner's daughter really was a hawk, and she really was flying toward him with a much larger hawk in tow. Brett had a sneaking suspicion he knew who the larger hawk was.

"Good you stayed!" Judy cried as she perched on her rock again. "Daddy! Sheriff Brett is sick, we have to help him!"

The larger hawk settled beside Judy and gave him a measuring look. "Hey, Parker," said Emmanuel Gaia.

Brett yelped.

Bo/Torsten: "How many languages do I know?" he asked.

"I don't know. I asked once before and you just shook your head and laughed at me. I was insulted, as you might imagine, but...I'm not you. You were teaching me Danish before you left me."

"Were we...?"

It was time for the cigarette. The taste was mellow and satisfying. "You really remember nothing?" The look in Bo's eyes told him that was the wrong question. He shook his head and hand. "Alright, alright. Sorry. This is just..." Another drag. "You woke me with a kiss. You said you just wanted to know, and I wasn't to think anything of it. I promised you I wouldn't, and I haven't."

"You've hurt me."

"That wasn't me."

"It still happened!"

"Yes, Botan, it happened. You left and the next week my family was put in danger and that is on you! I am here because of you!"

"I don't remember!"

"That does not exonerate you of your crimes!"

Brett/Emmanuel: Maybe he'd been body-snatched during the night. Surely this stuttering mess of a man wasn't the real Brett Morgan Parker.

"Y-you're Emmanuel Gaia. You own the bookstore. You--you gave my boyfriend a book recommendation last week."

Emmanuel nodded. "Yes, Parker. That's me."

"But you're a hawk!"

"That's also true."

"Why are you a hawk!?"

"Because that's what I am. Well, technically I'm a Caladrius bird. I never thought I'd be telling you that but...."

"And--and Judy's a hawk!"

"She's my daughter, so she's like me."

"Why does she think I'm sick?!"

"Now that's a good question." Emmanuel breathed deeply, immediately picking up on the same scent Judy had. It smelled, as she'd put it, like spoiled ice cream; sickly sweet and very, very rancid. "She thinks you're sick because you smell of illness. Pretty severely, too."

Brett wasn't even going to ask how these two could smell something so pronounced when he smelled nothing but the river and the trees. "But I'm not sick! I'm fine!"

"Then you've been around someone who is."

"I think I would know if I'd been around someone who was so sick that--" He cut off mid-sentence as it dawned on him.

They weren't smelling his illness. They were smelling his boyfriend's. "....Botan...."

Bo/Torsten: A large herd of children passed between them, on a tour of the docks and the nearby cannery. The two men looked away, in any direction other than the class and their teacher and each other. They needed that moment of silence. As the clamor of elementary schoolers died down, so too did the vehement need for righteous indignation.

"I think it's time I call this an even score." He had to. Observing the way this one great scholar trembled was becoming too much to bear. "I'm sorry for what's happened. I'm sorry for the suffering you've been dealt by my hands, but... that's all I'm sorry for."

"You want me to die?"

"... I... don't know."

Brett/Emmanuel: If birds had brows, Emmanuel's would be furrowed. "Your boyfriend? He's the one who's sick?"

"Well, not sick in the traditional sense. He doesn't have a disease, he's under a curse."

"What kind of curse?"

"A memory curse that's eating away at his brain."

"How advanced is it?"

"It's on the verge of killing him. He'll say something and forget it a few seconds later. He files reports twice." Echoing what Botan had said earlier was making his eyes well with tears again. "He can't remember if he drank water this week, Emmanuel. He's forgotten his entire life before a few months ago and he's well on his way to forgetting everything because of this curse."

"Jesus Christ. He's had it for months?"

Brett nodded. "Yes. And we don't even know who originally cast it on him. All we know is that if it doesn't get removed by someone or something soon he's going to die. I'm going to lose him and he won't let me take him to the only people I know what might be able to help."

"....Will he let me do it?"

Bo/Torsten: Such a statement, despite the damage done by Torsten's hands and body, hurt beyond recognition. There was a desire to cry, to scream as he had in the sheriff's car. There was a desire for violence and bloodshed and so much more. He felt like a caged bird in the middle of a burning building.

"I want to go home."

"Oslo is a long way. If I remember correctly, your-"

"No, here. Brett's home. Take me there."

His pack of cigarettes was crushed in his fist and stuffed back in his jacket. So now he was back to being an escort.

Brett/Emmanuel: Brett was looking at him with so much hope that Emmanuel felt like Superman.

"Can you? Do you have enough power to get rid of his curse?" Brett suddenly remembered that he was talking to a bird. "What...are you exactly? You said you're a Cal...drus?"

"Caladrius, and yes. I have the power to cure any illness, supernatural and mortal."

"Even a curse?"

Emmanuel nodded. "I think so, yeah. He might need someone else to repair the damage the curse has done, but I should be able to remove it."

"Would a Druid be able to repair the damage?"

"Oh yeah, absolutely. All your boyfriend has to do is let me heal him."

Brett so very much wanted to weep with relief but he knew it was premature. Even if Emmanuel really could heal Botan, there was no telling if Botan would allow it.

What would...I mean, how exactly would you...go about it? What does healing look like?"

"I literally just have to look at him, preferably when the sun is at its highest point. Can't do it at night."

"You just need it to be day?"

"Pretty much. Hell, I could do it today if he wanted. Process is completely painless for him."

That surge of hope Emmanuel had implanted wanted to burst out of Brett's chest. He'd finally found their Hail Mary.

All he needed now was Botan.

Bo/Torsten: His Botan was taking the most direct route home. He wasn't going to go into work today. All he wanted was to be left alone. The will to do anything more than curl up in his bed had been extinguished. quietly, Torsten played his role to a T. Despite everything they had endured together, controlling the revenant as a puppet was one of the only things holding the former scholar together. He understood the power which he held, and he understood that it wasn't Torsten's fault for what he had done. That didn't mean he was going to forgive him.

Brett: After leaving Emmanuel and Judy on the rock with the promise to contact them later, Brett practically ran out of the woods and back to the station.

He had to talk to Botan. He had to tell him.

When he didn't see his boyfriend outside, he poked his head inside. "Is Botan here?!" he shouted to a very surprised Peabody.

"He's not there, boss. What the hell happened to you, why are you all wet?"

"Never mind that! We're taking a personal day, only call me if it's life and death!" With that, Brett ran out again.

If Botan wasn't at the station, maybe he'd gone back home. He didn't imagine his boyfriend would want to work after the morning they'd had.

"Pease be at home," he said to himself, getting into his car and speeding out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.

Torsten: The house seemed in one piece, and for the most part it was. Nothing was obviously broken. Inside, Torsten stood at rest in front of Botan's bedroom door. The shower in the next room was running.

"He's stationed me here," said the revenant in greeting.

Brett: Later on Brett would probably be glad that Botan hadn't decided to take a sledgehammer to their home, but right now Brett didn't care about that. There were bigger and more life-impacting things on his mind.

Not even the sight of Torsten in his home could distract from that single-minded focus.

"I see that," he said absently, knocking on the bathroom door. He didn't mean to enter, just alert his boyfriend to his presence. "Botan?"

Bo/Torsten: The response on the other side was nothing more than feet adjusting in the bathtub.

"The fuck is wrong with you two today?"

Brett: The only explanation Brett gave was, "It's Thursday."

He rested his forehead against the door and took a deep breath. "Botan, I found a way. You could be free of that damn curse by nightfall."

Bo/Torsten: While Botan kept whatever curiosity to himself, Torsten did not. "How? What kind of spell did you find?" He paused and frowned. "Why are you wet?"

Brett: "It's not a spell and I jumped into the river to see if I was being stalked by a hawk."

Brett: "I was by the way."

Torsten: "I can see why you're a sheriff. Your descriptive skills frankly take my breath away."

Brett: "Can it, Glockner. I'm not here to paint you a dramatic picture of the past couple hours. I finally found a way to stop that fucking curse from eating Botan's brain."

Torsten: "Yes, and I'm asking you to explain it to me. I'm very fucking old and have a little more experience than a baby ghoul."

Brett: "Okay, wise one, do you know what a Caladrius bird is?"

Bo/Torsten: "Those that are still around are pets. Hasn't been one on sale in America in about a hundred years."

Brett: "Shows how much you know. There's a Caladrius in this town, and they're no one's goddamn pet."

Torsten: Says the fledgling ghoul to the five hundred year-old antiques dealer. Now that was some leverage to have. "Interesting."

Brett: "Not to you. You're not interacting with them in any way, shape, or form. They agreed to help Botan and only Botan."

Torsten: "You're making deals on his behalf?"

Brett: "I found a Hail Mary on his behalf, which is what I promised him I would do. And I intend to discuss this with him. In private."

Bo/Torsten: Torsten looked to the bathroom door. "'I can hear you,' he whispered."

Brett: Brett looked toward the door as well. This wasn't how he imagined telling Botan about his cure. For one, in his ideal scenario, Torten Glockner wasn't standing inside his house.

"Botan?"

Torsten: "I can't leave until he releases me," the revenant explained in his quietest indoor voice. "I'll help in any way I can. As it stands, I'm not so sure he cares anymore."

Brett: "I do." Brett closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the door again. "I know you want to give up," he said softly, just loud enough for Botan to be able to hear him. If Glockner had any decency, he'd cover his ears. "I know why you want to. You don't want to hide anymore. You want to have a life you remember, you want to have control of that life. You haven't until now and I know I bear some of the responsibility for that. A lot of the responsibility for that. I failed you, and I've kept failing you. But I made you a promise. I told you that I would find a way to get rid of the curse and I finally did. You told me you didn't want me to talk like I was talking to make it happen. I didn't. All I did was get into the river.

"And the bird I found, the Caladrius, could have the curse gone today if you give the go-ahead. The process is completely painless, they don't even have to touch you. And...if you want...I'll be right there with you. You won't have to do it alone." He took a deep breath. "Du har meg," he murmured in Norwegian.

Bo/Torsten: Torsten kept his eyes to the floor during the duration of the ghoul's speech. His thoughts wandered to Bronwyn and he missed her. Given the circumstances, the plead in Parker's tone, he couldn't see but one reason why Botan would reject it. Simply, Botan was suicidal. The human had always been a reckless spoiled prince. While normally such a rotten personality tasted sour on his tongue, Botan had the intelligence and wherewithal to back it up. Surely, this would not be the end of him.

The water was turned off, the door opened. There he was, naked as the day he was born. Obviously, he didn't see nor care about their guest. His arms, still wet, clung to the sheriff's neck.

Brett: Somewhere along the way, Brett had forgotten Torsten as well. Whatever personal victory was to be had in baring his soul in front of a perfect stranger wasn't even a blip on the radar. He was here for Botan, which was exactly what he should've been doing up until now.

So what if he was wet? So what if people judged and pointed out his behavior? So what if Torsten was listening?

Botan was what mattered.

He lifted his head when he heard the water go off, wondering if his boyfriend was going to come out. Then he did, and his beautiful Botan was back where he belonged.

Brett wrapped his arms around Bo's waist, cradling him and holding tight. He didn't care that Bo was wet; he was too. He didn't care about the nudity; Bo had seen him naked today too.

"Du har meg," he whispered. "For as long as you want me."

Bo: "Jeg elsker deg," Bo said into Brett's skin. He meant those words despite any grudge he might have been carrying. However, there was an addendum. "I don't want to remember my old life. If this curse gives that back to me... I will be unhappy. I don't want them. I don't know who that man is I once was."

Brett: Brett held Bo tighter, nestling his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck. Things felt more right in this moment than they had in a long time. "I love you, too, sweetheart. I love you so much."

He kissed Botan's neck. "He won't restore your memories. He'll just take away the curse that's eating away at you."

Bo/Torsten: Torsten had to agree with Botan on this. He couldn't imagine the man he knew to favor a sheriff such as Parker; a ghoul no less. At least without his memory he would be useless to the Archanum and to any enemy with a mind to utilize his gift. The fact that he condoned this decision sickened him, but he was biased. The Botan he'd loved was a dangerous man.

"Why do you trust this bird?"

"Unless on a malignant agenda, such birds are generally honest creatures," said Torsten. "Take the deal."

Brett: "I've known this bird my whole life. I went to school with them, played with them. They're good, honest, hardworking people. Always willing to help or offer kind words." He pulled back enough to look at Botan. "If they say it can be done, it can be done."

Bo/Torsten: Bo had wondered for a sentence why it was Brett refused to give a name until he laid eyes on the revenant. "You're not going to touch the Caladrius bird under any circumstance."

"Your will be done," muttered his servant in Icelandic.

Brett: "Does that mean you want them to heal you?" Brett asked softly. Even with Botan's order, he wouldn't say Emmanuel's name until he was sure they were alone. There was a little girl's whole life to consider.

Bo: "You swear they don't have to touch me?"

Brett: "I swear."

Bo: "I don't want the druids involved. I don't want to be touched. I don't want to linger. I want to be left alone."

Brett: "The bird said that because you've been under the curse for so long, there could be residual damage from it that might have to be repaired for you to be completely healthy again. If there is, and if I can find a way for the Druids to heal it without having to touch you, would you consider it?"

Bo: The look in Botan's eyes, the plead in his expression, the way he clung tightly to his arms, all said no. Absolutely not. Waking up in Callum MacGillivray's home the way he had was traumatizing. He had drunk someone's blood, regrew a tongue. This might have been a godsend in the opinion of many, but to Botan, it was a nightmare he relived over and over.

"...No."

Brett: Brett nodded and cradled Botan to him again. "Okay," he whispered, kissing his boyfriend's temple. "Okay, baby. We'll leave them out of it. If needs must, we'll find another way." Another kiss. "No one will touch you."

Bo/Torsten: He allowed the kisses to comfort him, if only for the moment. "I need a towel," he whispered. His attention returned to the revenant. "Sit in the living room, Torsten." To which he did.

"Don't say their name." Not with Torsten so near.

Brett: "I won't." There was definitely something to be said for tiny houses and tiny bathrooms. All Brett had to do to get Botan a towel was reach around him and tug it off the rack on the wall. And since it was so giant, he could bundle his boyfriend in it.

Bo/Torsten: Torsten sighed from his designated area. Might as well do something productive. He considered, and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts to Bronwyn.

{Text} There is a cure for Botan in the making.

Botan all but buried himself in his towel, shivering.

Brett/Bronwyn: Brett wrapped his arms around Botan again, trying to warm him despite being wet himself. He couldn't bring himself to deprive them both of the contact, however. "Do you want to tuck up in bed? You've earned a nap."

 {Text} Cure? What sort of cure?

Bo/Torsten: "You should be at work. I don't trust Peabody not to hang on the phone all day with his nurse."

{Text} A Caladrius bird. Apparently there is one in town.

Brett: He chuckled softly. "Evangelina will keep him in line. And I asked him to call me immediately if he had need. Come on." He gave Botan a squeeze. "Let's get you under the covers."

Bronwyn: {Text} Caladrius birds are as rare as unicorns. How did one end up here?

Bo/Torsten: {Text} The sheriff is being mute on the names. Something that valuable, I doubt he knows what he's sitting on. Seems to know the bird personally.

With a nod, Bo crossed the hall to his bedroom, tugging Brett along by the hand. "I'm not going to get dressed," he said.

Brett/Bronwyn: {Text} If he's not giving names, he might have some idea. He's trying to protect whoever it is

{Text} Not surprising considering it's Edenton

 Brett followed without protest. "That's okay. We're at home. You don't have to get dressed if you don't want to."

Bo/Torsten: "It's not about home, it's about you," he explained.

{Text} Don't confuse sentimentality with physical value. I think he has. At any rate, this is going to be Botan's means of survival.

Brett/Bronwyn: "You've been naked for a few minutes now." He gave Botan a small smile. "I think I'm handling it pretty well." And indeed he was. His voice was even, his face was its normal color, he was looking at Botan and not the floor.

 {Text} Physical value isn't something all humans can see. If anything, he's drawing on experience

{Text} After what happened with Bo, he's going to tread with great paranoia

Bo/Torsten: "I think you are, too," he whispered.

{Text} He still refuses for you to help him pick up the pieces. With the curse gone, his mind is still fractured. {Text} More needs to be done.

Brett/Bronwyn: The smile got bigger.

Brett pulled back the covers on Bo's bed and gathered a small pile of pillows, all without letting go of his boyfriend's hand. "There you go, sweetheart."

 {Text} Mine isn't the only type of healing magic. Maybe I could do some research and find something he feels comfortable with

Bo/Torsten: "What are you going to do?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, allowing the towel to pool at his sides.

{Text} Something with a bit of subterfuge?

Brett/Bronwyn: "I'm going to shower and change. I smell like river."

 {Text} No subterfuge. Just research that I will present to the sheriff

Bo/Torsten: "I don't care that you smell like a river, Brett."

{Text} It'll have to be you. Right now I'm imprisoned in the living room and the sheriff does not approve of me. Naturally.

Brett/Bronwyn: Brett bent to kiss Botan's forehead. "Then I'll just change and dry off."

 {Text} He's a very quiet, private man. Are you being menacing?

Bo/Torsten: Bo smiled to the kiss, tired and hardly existent. He then burrowed under the covers, still without clothes.

{Text} Botan made me tell him what truly happened. You tell me how you'd feel.

Brett/Bronwyn: "I'll be right back." He ducked into his bedroom and shucked his wet clothes, exchanging them for dry ones.

It briefly occurred to him to check on Torsten, but he really didn't want to. The man made him uneasy. Besides, there was a TV in there. He'd be fine.

 Bronwyn sighed. This was exactly why she hadn't told the sheriff.

{Text} Christ

{Text} Why would he do that?

Torsten: {Text} I've known him for years. He was testing the ghoul. He called for me out of nowhere. {Text} His eyes were red. I assume an altercation.

Bronwyn: {Text} Has the altercation been resolved?

{Text} Why hasn't he dismissed you?

Bo: {Text} He's taking a nap, apparently. {Text} Seems resolved with his learning of the bird.

Bronwyn: {Text} And your altercation with him? Is that resolved as well?

Torsten: {Text} Is that what we're calling it?

Bronwyn: {Text} Well you are trapped in their living room while he naps

Torsten: {Text} Still here and the sheriff is letting it slide. {Text} Dare I ask for company? There is a television.

Bronwyn: {Text} It sounds like it's been an emotional day and everyone involved is spread pretty thin

{Text} Not saying it's all right, but maybe this is the best case scenario? They haven't hurt you, have they?

{Text} Call me and we'll watch TV together

Torsten: {Text} Just a phone call? :( {Text} No, Thistle, no one's hurt me. {Text} Do you think I would tell you if they did?

Bronwyn: {Text} I don't think my presence there would help the situation. Bo doesn't want anything to do with me, remember?

{Text} You better tell me if they do. How would I help otherwise?

Torsten: {Text} I'm a slave in a fledgling ghoul’s home and I can't even have my woman. What dreadful fate has befallen me?

Bronwyn: {Text} Would it be bad form to tell you I'm in the bathtub right now?

Torsten: {Text} Yes. {Text} Please send a photo.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn smiled to herself, opening up the camera on her phone. A couple minutes later she was sending a picture complete with artfully placed bubbles and candles.

Torsten: "Mm, mm mm." Came from the living room. {Text} You're a vision. {Text} I'm afraid I cannot give you the same.

Brett/Bronwyn: Brett glanced toward the living room with a furrowed brow before shrugging to himself. He wasn't even going to ask.

He was just going to return to his boyfriend's room and snuggle in with him.

 {Text} My imagination will just have to sustain me until I see you again

{Text} You know you have the loveliest behind I've ever seen?

Bo/Torsten: {Text} When have you been looking?

"Do you want me to get dressed?" Bo asked, feeling for Brett's arms, pulling him closer despite the question. He wanted him as close as possible.

Brett/Bronwyn: {Text} I look all the time, lovely

{Text} Alllllllll the time

 "You're fine," Brett murmured, tucking Bo against him and cradling him against his chest. He kissed his shoulder. "You're just fine."

Bo/Torsten: {Text} Now I have something to stare at until he releases me.

"You... manage all of my... weak moments. How do you do it?"

Brett/Bronwyn: {Text} How lucky for you that I decided to take a bath today

She sent him another picture just because. This time the bubbles weren't so artfully arranged.

 "I've always been a patient person, even when I was little. It's my nature."

Bo/Torsten: {Text} I need one more without any bubbles whatsoever.

"I understand for your job, but I'm not... I'm not your job."

Brett/Bronwyn: {Text} I put quite a few of them in here, might take a while for them to disappear

{Text} I suppose I could get out of the tub and shower them off....

 "No, you're not my job." Brett kissed that shoulder again. "You're my love."

Bo/Torsten: {Text} You're torturing me on purpose.

"You sound so sure of that." He wasn't sure of much except for his fear these day. "I don't know if I can sleep."

Brett/Bronwyn: {Text} I might be

{Text} Actually, I have an excellent idea

 "I am." It was one of the only things he was sure of.

He pulled the covers closer around them, snuggled in even further. Being here with Botan like this was his happy place.

"It's okay if you can't. We can just lay here like this for a while."

Bo/Torsten: All he could do was nod, forcing his eyes closed in the attempt to mimic sleep. Losing the curse would be a godsend, but he was still apprehensive. This life had to be worth living.

"Alright," he whispered.

Torsten arched a brow at his phone, as though she could see him. {Text} One with you here in my arms?

Brett: "Just rest," he whispered back. Brett closed his eyes as well, breathing his Botan in and praying they could stay here for the rest of the day.

Bronwyn: {Text} Not quite

{Text} I'm going to call you, and I need you to mute the sound, okay?

Bo/Torsten: Bo could only handle having his back to Brett for so long before rolling over to face him. That perfect jawline, those sweet, soft and telling eyes.

"Do you want me? Thought about me when you cum?"

{Text} Call but mute?

Brett/Bronwyn: Brett's eyes answered Bo before his lips could. How could he be so in love with this man and not want him?

He nodded. "Yes. I have."

 {Text} Not a regular call

{Text} A video call

Bo/Torsten: This was an inappropriate time to demand this, but he was going to. It wasn't about the sex itself. There wasn't so much as a throb between his legs. "Tell me what you've thought about. I want to see it."

{Text} I accept your challenge.

Brett: "I..." He took a deep breath. "I can feel your touch even when we're not touching. I close my eyes and I can feel the warmth of your skin against mine."

Brett rubbed Bo's shoulder as he spoke, giving himself something to focus on. His eyes lifted to his boyfriend's. "You want to see...it....right now?"

Bo: While Brett Parker had been in the shower, he had been thinking about him, about his skin and his warmth. He was there, but not there. Shifting and fidgeting, he asked, "Is that... something you can do twice in one day?"

Brett/Bronwyn: "Ah, well. Yes. I've had plenty of time to recover so....it shouldn't be a problem." Whether or not he'd be able to relax enough to be able to was another story.

 {Text} Delighted to hear it

{Text} Remember to mute now

She put the call through, smiling once Torsten's face filled her phone screen.

As yet, she was still in the tub. But that was soon about to change.

Bo/Torsten: "Do you want to fuck me, Brett?" A question that he wanted to avoid contact with, but forced it anyway. He wanted to study his reaction. Blush? Stutter? Neither of which Torsten was doing. Torsten was relaxing, sitting back with his hand behind his head.

"Beautiful," he mouthed.

Brett/Bronwyn: There was definitely a blush, but this time there was no stutter. "I've thought about it before," he whispered, pulling the blankets even closer so they formed a cocoon around him and Bo. "I've wanted to share that with you. But if we ever do, it would only be because we both wanted it. I wouldn't force you into it or hold it over you. And if we never do that's okay."

 Bronwyn's smile got wider. "You, too," she mouthed back. She propped the phone against a window sill so it would capture the full view of her body as she eased herself out of the bath, covered in bubbles.

Next she propped on the counter so he could see as she stepped into the shower and rinsed all the bubbles away.

Bo/Torsten: Through the silence in the bedroom, Torsten shook his head and laughed without sound. The teasing meant he had to adjust his trousers. The quiet meant his hand lingered.

"You're mine," he whispered to his Thistle. He should have been enraged by being left alone in the living room, by the sheriff allowing this egregious overreach in sovereignty. It didn't matter. This wasn't going to be what tipped him over the edge. Five hundred years, despite his ready kindle, taught him to look the other way, if only for a moment.

"Why do you feel the need to say so much to me, to explain like that? Would you have before I told you the truth? Do you think I'm going to cower? I'm not afraid of your body or what you can do to me physically. I only have one fear with you, it's your other half, your non-human half."

Brett/Bronwyn: Brett nodded. "Yes, I would have. I'd feel the need no matter what, because I want you to feel comfortable." As he traced Botan's cheekbone with his fingers, it occurred to him that maybe he had that fear too. He never, ever wanted to hurt Bo again. He had to learn to be stronger.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

 Bronwyn gave Torsten a wicked grin over her shoulder. Since she was here, she might as well take a proper shower and give him a nice distraction.

Bo/Torsten: "Do I want to know a secret?" Bo looked from the hand to his eyes. "I want to know many things, so begin with what you want to tell me."

The druid's grin was enough to make the revenant growl, smirking to himself as he glanced to the hallway. Still nothing. He then stood, attempted for the door, but found his feet cemented halfway there. He made his way back with a sigh. He wanted her so much.

Brett/Bronwyn: "You know this morning when you asked me if I was talking to Miss Swiss? I was."

 She made sure to look back at Torsten as she cleansed herself, trying to keep him engaged so he wouldn't think too much about having to remain in the sheriff's living room. She didn't give it much longer. Brett Parker wouldn't allow Bo to keep him there all day.

Bo/Torsten: "Of course you were," he said, not understanding the context in which Brett meant. Of course he was talking to the rat. He just assumed it to be something he did to help him think. Idiosyncratic perhaps, but nothing alarming.

Her constant attention put Torsten back on the couch without so much as a grunt of complaint.

"You just wait until I get home, Little Thistle," he whispered to her.

Brett/Bronwyn: "Not just talking to her. Talking to her. As in we understand what the other is saying and have an actual conversation."

 That made Bronwyn smile even more. She had great plans for Torsten when he came to her. Very great plans.

In the meantime, she got out the shower and dried off, carrying him to her bedroom so he could watch her dress.

Bo/Torsten: It was then that he realized what exactly he had said. When I get home. What was home anymore? His family home in Iceland? The Wayside Inn in Edenton? Bronwyn? Not four walls she had purchased. She was his other home. It didn't matter where.

Softly, once she was settled, he whispered to her his epiphany.

Bo scoffed. "You're a Doctor Dolittle?" How to test this. Well... there was no way, as he didn't know where Miss Swiss was. He would have to take his word for it. "What else can you do?"

Brett/Bronwyn: If there was anything in this world that could melt Bronwyn MacAllister, it was the man she loved telling her that she was his home. And Christ, she wanted to tell him that but she didn't want to tell him over the phone, especially when they hadn't really touched on the subject of love.

"Ask the sheriff if you can leave. He'll convince Bo."

 Brett chuckled quietly. "I guess I am. I've talked to birds, too. And a dog once." He thought for a moment. That was really the most prominent thing. "When I go to arrest a drunk, they don't put up that much of a fight anymore. I don't know if that counts."

Bo/Torsten: "They've gone quiet," he whispered. "Either their asleep or... something else. I'm going to give this just a bit longer before I begin speaking loudly," he chuckled. "How's your baby? Good? How was the wedding?"

The next ability somehow felt familiar. A kind of presence, wasn't it? He had witnessed it somewhere. Perhaps it was Brett himself.

"What is it your vampire can do? They don't seem all... consistent."

Bronwyn: "Ye'd be able to hear somethin' if they were doin' that. They might just be talkin'." Another sure way to make Bronwyn melt was asking about her children. "He's lovely and the weddin' was lovely and Lucien and Salem were lovely. I cried. So much. I have a son-in-law now."

Brett: "I have no idea. Maybe he can quiet down drunks too."

Bo/Torsten: He didn't want to tell her that he could hear their discussion, and felt no need to intrude on it. He would wait until the conversation was over before reminding them of his existence. Had Brett made any indication of taking advantage of Botan's vulnerable state, he would have broken the wall in an attempt to get to his throat.

"I'm sorry I was unable to attend. It just didn't feel the proper scene for a first meeting."

"So you speak to animals and shush drunks," Bo mused. "The man... fed me his blood, and I regrew my tongue. I've seen him whisper to Torsten and force him into...acts worse than kissing Peter Graham." This was just Guildias. Perhaps Brett had the foresight not to mention the other domitor in his life.

Brett/Bronwyn: "I agree, and it's perfectly all right. There will be plenty of other opportunities for ye to meet my sons and granddaughter. And now my son-in-law." She was back to beaming, all but radiating motherly pride. "I have a son-in-law, Torsten. My laddie got married."

 Brett did indeed have the foresight not to mention MJ. The man had gone off to try to piece his life together; he was no longer Brett's domitor.

"Pretty much. Talking to animals isn't really beneficial at work, but it's nice to talk to Miss Swiss. She has a little old lady voice."

His brow furrowed. "I still don't understand how that's possible. I'm glad your body parts are where they're supposed to be but...this is strange and mysterious magic." The furrow deepened. "He commands Torsten as well?"

Speaking of... "Maybe you should let Torsten go home."

Bo/Torsten: "He owns you but doesn't explain it to you?" Torsten could hear the bitterness in Botan's voice from the living room. It was practically palpable. Something about the topic was upsetting him, and Torsten knew exactly what it was. Whether or not he should explain was an internal debate. Botan already knew the answers. His genius was evident in two areas of his life; one had been erased, the other half forgotten. He was a master of the Cainite lore. Of course he knew the ins and outs of Brett Parker's predicament. He had known. Part of what made him so arrogant in his other life had been stolen.

"Some magic unlike the collar," he confessed, breaking eye contact. "No. He's mine." Unapologetically avowal.

"It's beautiful to see you so happy, Thistle." The revenant sighed. "I might not be going anywhere. Perhaps I could trouble you to call the sheriff? I've been officially claimed as a pet."

Brett/Bronwyn: "He hasn't explained much beyond my usefulness being tied to the prince. I believe Pete Graham received far more instruction before he left."

Brett nodded and sighed. A lot of strange mysterious magic going around it seemed.

"The collar ensures that, yes. But isn't the collar enough? Why make him stay?"

 Bronwyn frowned. "Is Brett no' makin' any headway with him? I can't see him lettin' Bo just keep ye there."

Bo/Torsten: "So far, no. He's much too gentle. Everyone is with him, and I'm reaching the end of my wick."

Bo simply refused to answer. Eyes remained firm to the bedsheets, unable to explain his sense of security and control by possessing the man that had assaulted him. It didn't matter the circumstance. It didn't matter that Torsten was himself a victim. What mattered was himself.

Brett/Bronwyn: "Botan," Brett said softly, taking his boyfriend's hand but not squeezing it. "I know you want to punish him for what happened at the mill. I know you want to make him suffer for it. But he is already, just by having the collar around his neck. Being a puppet is far worse than being stuck in my living room."

The hand was lightly squeezed. "This is our home. Our sanctuary. I don't want it to be someone's prison cell."

 "There's a good chance gentleness will work. Tryin' to force that man is on par with a Herculean task."

Bo/Torsten: He was allowed to hold his hand up to a certain point, and that point was reached the moment their home, Brett's home, was used in negotiation. Prison cell? What did Brett know of a prison? A Catholic father? Was that on par with what he had to endure? Not at all.

Bo repossessed his hand and fumbled out of bed. The nearest pair of jeans were gathered and worn. The revenant straightened and lowered his phone, keeping his thumb hovered on the mute button. Whatever was about to happen, he didn't want Bronwyn involved.

"Get up and take your shoes off. They're mine now."

Hesitant, he placed his phone on the table and did as commanded. He had no choice.

"Now your socks. Fold them together and place them in your shoe."

He did.

"Where did we meet?"

Torsten licked his lips. "Warsaw. You and I were-"

"Walk there. Goodbye."

Brett: "Botan, wait! Botan!" Being already dressed saved him a step, but he still wasn't in time to stop his boyfriend from divesting Torsten of his shoes and demanding that he walk all the way to Poland.

"Botan, stop this." His voice was firmer, more like the sheriff that shouted down drunks and broke up fights, but he did not shout. Bo wasn't a drunk he was shoving in a cell.

"Enough. You can't make Torsten walk to Poland, especially because you're not asking him to walk to Poland. You're asking him to walk to death. You're angry, and you have every right to be. More than every right. But this isn't the way. If he's telling the truth, he was forced into what happened as much as you were and although I know you don't care about his pain, I care whether or not you do something on par with what those people in the mill did.

"Please release him, Botan."

Bo/Torsten: Torsten managed to reach his phone without issue, turning for his pilgrimage to death. This was going to be his end, it seemed, because Bo was giving the kind and gentle sheriff the silent treatment, facing him with cold eyes comfortable in their vengeance. As the call had remained unmuted, there was no need to explain this to Bronwyn.

"I have a journey ahead of me," he chuckled dryly.

Brett/Bronwyn: While Brett redoubled his efforts to reason with his boyfriend, Bronwyn was entering a full-blown panic. "Put me on speaker!"

"Botan Nowicki!" she shouted at her phone, hoping he could hear her. "I did no' bloody heal ye and pour my magic into ye so ye could bloody murder the man I love! Ye think ye're the only one who's ever felt pain? A desire for vengeance? Ye're no'! And throwin' a tantrum like a child and sendin' Torsten to his death is goin' to solve nothin'! The pain will still be there! And ye might be willin' to just lay down and die and watch the man ye love lose ye but I'm no'! Release him from that bloody order!"

Bo: Her voice was fading the further Torsten walked, and he felt her anger in his chest like a punch. Bo's nostrils flared and he looked to the side, away from Brett, away from the connection he was attempting to establish, as though Brett and Bronwyn were the same standing in front of him. If he just kept his ears closed he wouldn't have to regard it.

Torsten: "Treat him like the brat he is, sheriff! I've been saying this to everyone!" shouted the revenant.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn wasn't one to give up so easily. She was putting her shoes on as she shouted, determined to go after Torsten and save him if Bo didn't see reason.

Torsten was shouting, which meant he was getting farther away. Time for a new tactic. She got her emergency phone and dialed the sheriff's number, demanding that he put her on speaker the second he answered and juggling two phones as she ran out to her car.

"BOTAN! RELEASE HIM! Yer love isn't the only one that matters! Yer pain isn't the only one that matters! Find yer goddamn humanity! He's no' yers, he's mine! I love him and I fuckin' refuse to lose him! I'm no' goin' to do what ye've been doin' with Brett!"

Bo/Torsten: "Brett didn't force himself on you as you cried and begged and screamed for him to stop! You don't get to tell me what to do!" That certainly got his attention.

Torsten flicked through his phone, tapping on the icon of his sister, Flora. Bronwyn would begin to hear the phone ringing.

"Halló? Tori?"

"Halló, Flora," he sighed.

"Hvað segirðu gott?"

"I'm fine, I just wanted you to... I just wanted to hear your voice."

Bronwyn: "It wasn't his fuckin' choice! He was forced ev'ry bit as much as ye were! I know what it's fuckin' like to have someone out to rape and murder ye! Ye didn't have the protection I did and I'm sorry for that but that doesn't make what ye're doin' to him fuckin' okay!

What happened at the mill wasn't his choice! Hell, precious little has been his choice since that fuckin' collar was put on him! He's a goddamn fuckin' slave to someone who refuses to see any pain but his own! Doin' this to him changes NOTHIN' except the way Brett's goin' to look at ye if ye kill Torsten!"

Tears were streaming down her face as she drove, praying to reach Torsten before he reached the water line. She had to save him.

Bo/Torsten: The screaming in English had Flora switching the language gears. "Tori? What's going on?"

"Botan is trying to kill me."

"Again?"

The revenant laughed humorlessly. "Já. Again. Though this one I fear is legitimate."

"Why isn't he with the prince?"

"I cannot forgive you for that."

"I do not relish my action, but it had to be done. Look at the mess you are in, brother."

Bo looked away from the phone, away from Brett. His chest was on fire. "Brett..."

Brett: "Please, Botan," Brett said gently, his tone a cool, soothing match to the heat and anger in Bronwyn's.

"You said you didn't want to recover the memories of your old life because you didn't know who that man was. I don't know who he was, but I'm begging you, don't become him. Let him go. Let Torsten go.

"Come back to me, sweetheart. Please."

Bo/Torsten: Don't become him. Was this a taste of his past? Was this his true image? More important still, did he want to face that man in the mirror?

His quivering chin answered his internal questions of crisis.

"I can't help it," he sniffed. "I'm...sick. I'm sick." He didn't mean physically. His mind felt disgusting. "Torsten...stop."

The revenant took a breath as his feet came to a halt.

Brett: "Oh, baby." Brett wanted so much to hold him, to sag with relief, to thank God and all the saints. But he settled for getting back in Botan's line of sight and offering his arms in case they were wanted right now.

"Anger's a wound gone mad. And you have so many wounds."

Bo/Torsten: Torsten finally got around to introducing his sister to his thistle. He then named the road in which he stood. "I've been told to stop," he explained, "so I won't be going anywhere."

Bo looked to those arms and shook his head. He couldn't. He didn't deserve them. "I want it to end."

Brett/Bronwyn: "It will," Brett assured him. Even though he dropped his arms, he didn't move away. He wouldn't leave Botan.

"It starts with removing the curse. You won't get your old memories back, but maybe that's a good thing. You don't have to be slave to the past, you can forge ahead, try to be better. I'll try with you. We'll both be better, for ourselves, for each other.

"That man that used to be? He's gone. You're here now."

 This was not how she envisioned being introduced to Torsten's sister but she'd take it. Better a teary, slightly hysterical introduction than none at all.

She made the turn onto the street Torsten was on at dangerous speeds, slamming the brakes the moment she spotted him and flying from the car to wrap her arms around him.

Bo/Torsten: "You're a slave to the past. Why don't we erase everything that makes you who you are and see how you survive. You don't understand, Brett." The phone was snatched from his hand and turned off, tossed to the couch. "I want it to end. I want all of it to end. I don't want to get out of bed anymore. I don't want to stand. I don't want to breathe. I'm tired and I'm empty."

Torsten wrapped his arms around the druid and lifted her to her toes. "I'll call you back," he said to his sister, pocketing his phone. "I'll be fine. As I'm not walking into the ocean, I encourage you to go to the sheriff's and slap Botan until his face is raw."

Brett/Bronwyn: Bo couldn't have broken Brett's heart more effectively if he'd torn it out of his chest and crushed it in front of him.

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm just starting to let go of all the ways they messed me up. But I'm doing it. Slowly but I'm doing it, and that's because I have you. You make me want to be better. You make me want to do better.

"I wish I could undo all the horrible things that have been done to you. I wish I could give you back your sense of self. I know how tired you are, I can see it. I feel like you're slipping away from me a little bit each day and I don't know how to stop it because I just don't have the power to undo all that horror.

"All I know how to do is love you and kiss you awake and take you to the bookstore and the library and make you vegan chicken just to see if I can bring back some of that light. I'll never stop trying to bring it back.

"I know you want to give up. I know it seems like your only option, the best option. But I'm not giving up on you. On us. I will never stop fighting to make you whole again."

 Fine? None of this was fine. She was one temper tantrum away from losing her love. That was as far away from fine as things could possibly be.

"I have words for him later," she sniffled, locking him in a vice-like embrace. She wasn't ready to let go yet.

Bo/Torsten: Bo wanted to deny him. He shook his head as though to shake those words from his ears. The more Brett spoke, the more weighed down he felt, falling limply onto the couch, elbows to his knees, head in hand. He listened though he didn't want to.

"No," he said in attempt to shut him out. It wasn't effective. Brett continued and the word was repeated. He could feel the hot tears spilling over. "No, don't. Don't," he cried. "Stop." But he didn't stop. The precipice was there and he couldn't tip over. As much as he wanted to, Bo couldn't bring himself to end his own life. He was waiting for the nature of the curse to finish him. Brett wouldn't allow it. Brett's heart was strong enough for the both of them. All he could do was sob.

"I'm fine, love. It's alright. Everything's alright," Torsten soothed. "I have such words for you when I'm free of this."

Brett/Bronwyn: Brett knelt in front of Bo, offering the comfort of his presence without touching him. Of all the things he trusted in his world, he trusted Bo to accept his touch when he was ready the most.

The moment he stopped trusting in that, all would be lost.

"I love you so much, Botan. I know I'm not the strongest man or the most powerful, but what strength I do have I'll use for both of us. I'll be your pillar. Just please don't give up, baby. Lean on me, but don't give up."

 "He almost killed ye." Bronwyn took a deep breath, gripping his shirt for dear life. "I'll get ye free. I swear to the gods I'll get you free."

Bo/Torsten: "It's not the first time, Bronwyn, and it's not going to be the last. He's human, but he's fire. One can't help but get burned by him. You can't blame a flame for being warm. It's the nature of its existence."

Slowly, Bo composed himself. It was just enough to breathe evenly, to hold his hands out as a silent plea for Brett to take him. Hold him, carry him, something. Do something, Brett, please. Anything, just touch me.

"I'm sorry."

Brett/Bronwyn: "Flames can do many things." She pulled back so she could wipe her eyes and look at him. "Ask any Druid. They can purify and sustain as easily as they can burn and destroy. The key lies in the choices that are made."

 No sooner had Bo held out his hands that Brett was gathering him into his arms, holding him and cradling to him and murmuring loving comforting nonsense.

"I forgive you." Brett kissed his temple. "Please let me forgive you."

Bo/Torsten: "That's very poetic, Bronwyn, but Botan is human. Don't expect so much from someone like him. He's always been a handful and I suspect he always will be. At least now, for the most part, he's out of my hands. Either you or the sheriff or combination saved my life."

Bo couldn't think of anything to say, nothing but more apologies for the pain and annoyance that was his existence. His apologies sounded pathetic and he knew it. This also wasn't the type of man he wanted to be.

Brett/Bronwyn: "I expect just as much from a human as I do from anyone else, especially one who knows about our world." Her grandfather often said that underestimating humans was a grave mistake, and he was right. One had only to look at what Botan had done today with the bit of power the collar had afforded him to know he wasn't someone to be taken lightly.

She returned her head to Torsten's shoulder. "I think the sheriff takes the credit."

 However many times Bo apologized, Brett would forgive him. This was the man he loved, and he was in pain. Who didn't do or say terrible things when they were in pain? It was a part of being human.

Brett eased himself up and onto the couch, pulling his boyfriend into his lap, giving him an endless stream of loving comfort. He wouldn't be denied a single kiss or gentle touch.

Bo/Torsten: For a moment, Bo resisted Brett's physical affection, turning his head away as he joined him on the couch, pushing at his chest as he was brought to his lap. It was a lie. He wanted it; he just didn't feel that he had earned it. Normally, that wouldn't have mattered. Normally, he would have taken with the entitlement of a spoiled prince. Today, the veil was stained and torn. There was nothing beautiful, save for the man cradling him.

"You said you loved me," uttered the revenant. "Not just once..." Surely, that had been her panic. They were still in the developmental stage, were they not? He had yet to meet her children. Still, he heard her as sure as she stood in front of him.

Brett/Bronwyn: Brett liked to think he knew Botan well enough by now to know when he didn't want affection and when he was pretending not to want it. If he thought even for a moment that his boyfriend didn't want to be held, he would've let him go.

But Botan needed this. They both did.

"Want to watch the jellyfish thing on Netflix?" he whispered into Botan's hair, nuzzling him softly.

 Bronwyn tensed. Through all her panic and anger and desperation, it hadn't occurred to her that when she'd told Bo that she loved Torsten, Torsten had heard her.

And that really wouldn't be an issue, except that Bronwyn hadn't intended for Torsten to know that.

She considered talking her way out of it and immediately rejected the idea. He deserved better than that.

"Aye." She took a deep breath. "That really wasn't how I imagined ye findin' out."

Bo/Torsten: "That's not how I found out," said Torsten. "I had an idea months before. I found out weeks before. I think we've known for a while. You don't just offer anyone a chance to meet your children, and not everyone is allowed opportunity to meet my sisters - sister. So... we're there."

Brett knew his companion almost like the back of his hand. Bo felt his eyes swelling with tears again, blinked them back. "Yes, please." It would calm him instantly, put him out of his misery with a nap.

Brett/Bronwyn: She nodded, considering. He did have a point. Maybe they hadn't actually said the words to each other yet, but it was in their actions, in what they did and didn't do.

"We're there." Bronwyn pulled back again, studying his face. "That's still no' how I wanted ye to hear it for the first time."

 Brett pressed a kiss to Bo's temple "You got it, sweetheart."

Luckily for them both, the remote was within easy reach so there was no need for them to separate while Brett pulled up the jellyfish.

Within moments, the living room was filled with soothing music to go with the pretty images on the TV.

Torsten: Torsten smiled softly. There was a collar around his throat, he was just a mile from his death, and the love of the century was in his arms. His life was an unorthodox balance. "I won't say it today. I'm going to wait for a day that won't be spoiled."

Bronwyn: "There's no rush." Bronwyn rested her forehead against his, sighing quietly. "It's been one hell of a day. Never could get the hang o' those goddamn Thursdays."

Torsten: "Now that I'm here, I have a task for you." With a sigh, Torsten tugged unwound himself from her arms and tugged at his collar. "He's told me to stop, thus I'm here. What can you do to break his command?"

Bronwyn: Bronwyn touched a hand lightly to the collar, studying it. "Well, a command is, at its core, a compulsion to do somethin' and I've overcome a compulsion for ye before." She was sure they both had a vivid recollection of that day at the river.

"This should operate verra similarly. Come down here. I need to lay hands on yer head."

Torsten: Her command, while it didn't give him a forceful impulse, had him laughing as he slouched to accommodate her. There was the reason she was known as Little Thistle. "I much prefer your demands."

Bronwyn: She chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead as soon as he was within reach. "I like to think mine are far gentler more pleasant. Okay." She took a deep breath. "Here we go."

As soon as her magic started flowing within her, that familiar golden light was pouring out of her hands and into him, soothing and cleansing as it went.

Torsten: "Mhm," he hummed, holding her close by her waist. He almost didn't care the outcome of her spell so long as he could hold her close. Though, like before, her magic was a godsend. Holding her in his arms, his innate rage was all but diminished. "Fortunate it is that you happened to fall in love with me."

Bronwyn: "The battle was lost the moment ye smiled at me," Bronwyn whispered, kissing his forehead again.

Her magic continued to flow and pulse until Bo's command was completely gone, and once it faded, her arms moved to wrap around his neck again. She wouldn't stop needing to hold him for a while.

Torsten: "The morning with the music?" he asked, pulling her up simply by straightening, holding her then by her thighs.

Bronwyn: She nodded, wrapping her legs around his waist so she was completely wrapped around him.

"Aye. In retrospect, I probably should've put on a robe." She chuckled. "That nightgown's all but transparent."

Torsten: "I've believed this whole time that you did that on purpose, just to tempt me."

Bronwyn: "I didn't that time, but there miiiiight've been a couple others when I did."

Torsten: "Oh?" He began to walk in the direction of her car. "Tell me these moments."

Bronwyn: "Aye. Had to torment ye a wee, didn't I?"

Torsten: "So, you've wanted me since the night I showed up with Botan?"

Bronwyn: "I was too frazzled then, but when things settled down and I got a good look at ye...."

Torsten: "I knew that night. Callum knew that night."

Bronwyn: "Aye, he certainly did."

Torsten: "That doesn't upset you, Thistle?"

Bronwyn: "He and I have talked about it. He knows that it's my life and my choice, he's just a wee protective."

Torsten: "I mean that I've had my eyes set for you since night one."

Bronwyn: She smiled. "I know he did. Why do you think he was so protective?"

Torsten: "I was an unknown revenant in his home, explaining things about his lover he had no idea about. It goes with the territory."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded, giving him a nuzzle. "He might no' show it, but he's softened toward ye a bit. He sees how happy ye make me."

Torsten: "Has he realized yet that you're the person I've been buying flowers for?"

Bronwyn: "Aye," Bronwyn chuckled. "That's part o' the reason he's defrosted."

Torsten: "I should buy him flowers."

Bronwyn: "Ye should. Then ye should tell me how he reacts."

Torsten: "What does he prefer? I've heard the serpent call him Daisy?"

Bronwyn: "Aye, he does like Gerbera daisies. Also tulips, hyacinths, and irises."

Torsten: He would keep that in mind for an especially made bouquet. "Where are we going now?"

Bronwyn: "Wherever ye'd like to go."

Torsten: "You're not going to like it."

Bronwyn: "Why? Please don't say the sheriff's house."

Torsten: "... Brett Parker's house."

Bronwyn: "That way madness lies. There's been enough of that for today."

Torsten: "I'm going to check on him, Thistle."

Bronwyn: "Brett's with him. He'll make sure Bo's okay and calm."

Torsten: "Are you telling me no?"

Bronwyn: "I'm tryin' to talk ye out of it. Is it workin'?"

Torsten: "I don't blame him for his nature. If you want to slap him when we walk in, that's fine. I just need to see him."

Bronwyn: "I don't slap," she said, starting up the car. "I bloody punch."

Torsten: The revenant smiled. "So long as you make a proper fist."

Bronwyn: "I've been trained in several forms of combat. Of course I can make a proper fist."

Torsten: "That's my darling."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn smiled, turning onto Brett Parker's street and pulling up in front of his house a few moments later.

"Place is still standin'."

Torsten: "One is probably hiding, or the sheriff used his romantic influence to sway him. I haven't a clue why Botan has gravitated to the ghoul. This would have been beneath him months ago."

Bronwyn: "Love is a force unto itself, and verra often blind. I imagine Parker's...sweetness was appealin' to him."

Torsten: "Ha. The Botan I knew made women cry for wasting his time. I love him, but this man..."

Bronwyn: "Isn't the Botan ye knew," she finished. "The old one's gone."

Torsten: "Don't say that."

Bronwyn: "I don't want to. But the chances of recoverin' his memories after all that's happened are verra slim, even without the damage to his brain from the spell."

Torsten: The glint of determination in his eyes was absolute. "I'll find a way."

Bronwyn: "I don't doubt it." Bronwyn reached over and squeezed Torsten's hand. "What happens if he doesn't want them?"

Torsten: "He already doesn't."

Bronwyn: She nodded. "Bloody damn marbles."

Torsten: "Marbles?"

Bronwyn: "His memories are in a marble, aye? I feel like I remember readin' that in yer sister's letter."

Torsten: "It's one of the oldest forms of magic that I'm aware of."

Bronwyn: "It needs to crawl into a hole and die."

Torsten: "More experiences with it?"

Bronwyn: "Aye. That bloody djinn kept Mason in one."

Torsten: "Of course, djinn." Torsten stared at the sheriff's front door. He was in heavy debate if he should bother.

Bronwyn: "Want me to go with ye?" she asked softly.

Torsten: "Losing sight of why I should try."

Bronwyn: "Because even after ev'rythin' that's happened and what he just tried to do, ye care."

Torsten: "Yes. That's my weakness."

Bronwyn: "Carin' doesn't know from strength or weakness. It only knows heart." She gave his hand another squeeze. "Come on, darlin'."

Torsten: "Of course a young and beautiful druid would say such a thing."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn smiled, leaning over to kiss him. "It's the eternally optimistic nature-lover in us."

Torsten: The revenant leaned into the kiss and sighed. "I...think we should go while you still have a chance."

Bronwyn: "Are ye sure?"

Torsten: "No, Thistle."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn undid her seatbelt. "We'll just pop in for a wee. Then ye and I are goin' to go eat somewhere and then go celebrate the fact that ye're still alive and with me."

Torsten: "What does celebrating entail?" he asked, unbuckling his belt.

Bronwyn: "Whatever we want it to."

Torsten: "Let's get this over with, then." Considering what he'd just been though, he didn't bother knocking.

Brett: Brett was just starting to drift off when the door opened. The jellyfish were still floating dreamily on the TV screen, doing their best to lull him.

As soon as he saw Torsten, he gathered his sleeping boyfriend even closer than he already was and lifted a finger to his lips, asking for silence.

Torsten: While Parker gathered Botan, Torsten gathered his thoughts and bedded his ambiguous jealousy. "All is well in the Nowicki kingdom?"

Brett: He nodded, whispering, "It will be. Sorry about what happened."

Torsten: "Not like you can control him at all times." Though he did want to break his nose. The polite facade was for Bronwyn. With her in mind, he turned to her. "Anything you want to do for him?"

Brett/Bronwyn: Brett looked down at Botan, pressed his lips to his hair. "Control isn't the solution." His eyes found Torsten's collar. "It's the problem."

Meanwhile, Bronwyn shook her head and retook Torsten's hand. "There's nothin' I can do that won't wake him," she said, whispering as Brett did.

Torsten: His tone was as soft as his company's. "When he has it, he burns the world. When he doesn't, he wants...chaos to mimic his feelings. It will always be an issue for you, Parker. You're promising your heart to a volatile​ man."

Brett: "I can't speak for the man you knew. But the man I know, the man I love, doesn't want chaos. He doesn't want to watch the world burn. He's cursed and he's tired and he feels like he has no say in his own life.

"And I'm truly sorry that collar means you don't have it either."

Torsten: "It's the same soul. Consider my words, sheriff. When he feels at a loss, what does he do? When he's upset, whatever the reason, what does he do to soothe himself? It's a variation, but the same. Memories may change some things, but not a person at their core." The ivory of the collar was touched. "I'm old enough to handle it."

Brett: "And when the memories are gone and something's eating away at your brain? Nothing left but a blank slate."

Brett shrugged. "Maybe I'm wrong, I don't know. Maybe the need for chaos is still there. But even if it is, so what?" Another shrug. "I love him. When he's angry, when he's smiling, when he's crying, when I can get a laugh out of him. All of him. He's the storm, I'm the calm, and together there's balance."

Torsten: "Then he's your responsibility now. I have a greater purpose in my hand," literally, "and I will not have another tantrum jeopardize my life."

Brett: Brett gave a single nod. "I won't have it either."

Torsten: "Can you tell him no when you need to? Are you going to cure him?"

Brett: "I'm going to remove his curse. I'm going to find a way to repair the damage to his brain. And I'm going to do everything I can to help him not become the man he was before."

Bo/Torsten: Torsten gently brought his hands to Bronwyn's shoulders. "She can aid you in repair, but he will tell you no."

He would. In fact, he didn't want her there at all. The noise had stirred him enough to open his eyes.

Brett: "No offense to Miss MacAllister but if I can find a way to get rid of Botan's curse, I can find a way to repair the damage to his brain that doesn't involve Druid magic."

Bo: An exhausted voice chimes in. "Why is she here?"

Bronwyn: Bronwyn's gave shifted to Bo. "Because Torsten wanted to check on ye."

And now that he had, it was time for them to go. She'd wager all four of them were too exhausted for another blow up. She gently tugged Torsten toward the door.

Bo/Torsten: "He's alive. You're alive. Goodbye." The revenant's eyes found the ghoul's, brow subtly arched in a conversation without words.

"Adjø, Botan."

Bronwyn: And he's going to stay that way, Bronwyn thought, squeezing Torsten's hand as he led him back to the car.

"Where do ye want to go eat?"

Torsten: There was a dullness to Torsten's eyes. He wished Botan had just remained asleep. "Cocky young ghoul, isn't he?"

Bronwyn: "He's a bleedin' heart tryin' to save the man he loves. I hope he does."

Torsten: "I thought you were going to punch the boy."

Bronwyn: "No' today."

Torsten: Finally, a smile. "Tomorrow?"

Bronwyn: "Only the gods know."

Torsten: "So vague. We'll see. Where do you want to eat?"

Bronwyn: And one from her. "I asked ye first. Ye're pickin'."

Torsten: "Why must I pick? You decide." Ah, the old indecisive argument so easy to get lost in.

Bronwyn: "Because we're celebratin' ye, and ev'ryone knows that the person gettin' celebrated gets to pick the restaurant."

Torsten: "There's no cause to celebrate, love. It's alright. Truly." He sighed. "Seafood. Something European."

Bronwyn: "Love is its own cause." She tugged him down for a kiss. "I know just the place. They also serve an excellent whiskey."

Torsten: One wouldn't think a five hundred year-old revenant would be so easy to manipulate, but her tug was like that to a ragdoll. The kiss was savored, taking back her lips as soon as she was finished speaking. "I wouldn't mind a strong ale."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn hummed against his lips, focusing solely on him and not other, unpleasant things. "They have plenty o' that as well. No' to mention a really lovely view."

One more kiss and it was back into the car.