#we are not pretty here we used to be but our town management is full of incompetent idiots

[starpros-sunshine]

NOT THE GLOBALIZATION ASSIGNMENT 💀 i just finished an essay on the pros and cons of globalization for a contemporary world class except i had to focus on writing the pros because my groupmate was writing about the cons and man i was fighting for my life

Head in hands I might have to write my Abitur about that I don't want to have to write five hours about politics I thought English class had you do more idk Literature or something "Oh but it's like German but in English" In German we are currently doing movie analysis I don't see how those two things are comparable.

But no genuinely I was sitting there an hour just staring at those two pages of text that were all just documenting the way globalisation under the hand of capitalism turns us all into miserable little creatures and nobody profits except the BIG firms and like. My teacher wants us to give quotes we are always supposed to give quotes I can not quote two pages worth of text. That was one of three parts of the assignment. The other two were to analyse how the author uses metaphors (????? We're there even any?????????? I'm supposed to give six examples I can't even remember one?????) And to comment on, explain and state my opinion on either "America first" or "Take back control" as slogans. This woman is just letting me write an exam at this point what even is this.

[reidmotif]

Behind Closed Doors Pt. 2

Summary: Reader and Spencer get caught having sex in the storage closet, in possibly the most embarrassing way possible.

A/N: This is a requested Part 2 to my other fic by the same name, "Behind Closed Doors" . For the full experience, read them back to back!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, drinking/drinking games, rough sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, semi-public sex, tipsy sex (if you squint), exhibitionism (kind of)

Word Count: 2.9k

The storage closet at the BAU had become somewhat of an unlikely sanctuary for Spencer and I. 

I didn’t realize how much I’d end liking it, especially since my boyfriend and I had always managed just fine with no PDA at work for long periods of time, but once I got a taste of it- I was fucking addicted. 

Maybe it was the thrill of knowing we could be caught at any moment, or the idea of someone hearing my moans through the thin door of the small space, begging Spencer for more and more until I was practically sobbing. 

Or maybe it was that Spencer seemed to lose all control when we were in the closet, any and all previous inhibitions and protests leaving him as soon as we closed the door, his hands immediately sneaking under my shirt, cupping my bra and removing it, touching me in any way fathomable.  His lips would make their way down my neck, teasing me until I was needy and desperate, and then he’d let loose, fucking me like we’d never get the chance to do this again. 

All in all, the closet was definitely a wonderful addition to the places we’d had sex in.

When Spencer and I had arrived at the bar for drinks after our most recent case, we weren’t really expecting too much from the night. It was meant to be celebratory, to commence a job well done from the entire team and while nights like this could get rowdy, Spencer and I had already planned to leave earlier into the night than usual to spend some time with just each other. (And to just have loads of sex, truthfully). 

Spencer had his hand in mine as we entered, spotting our team in the back in a little booth, already seeming to have gotten started on their drinks for that night. They smiled and waved us over and we approached them. Spencer let me slide in first, while he scooted in next to me, our thighs touching due to the small and intimate setting of the booth. It didn’t bother him, and he let his hand let go of mine before placing it on my thigh. It was comforting, as if a way to subtly tether us to each other even while we were in front of the team. 

We all exchanged hellos and pleasantries before Derek pushed two shots towards us. 

“Drink up.” He said, with a smirk. “For being late.” He added. 

I rolled my eyes playfully, before grabbing the drink and tipping my head back and taking it. The familiar burn of tequila hit the back of my throat, and I made a face. 

“Eugh. Tequila? Seriously, Derek?” I said, scrunching up my face and placing the shot glass down, watching as Spencer mimicked my actions, having a similar reaction, albeit less pronounced than mine. 

“Come on, pretty girl.” Derek said, winking. “Live a little. Plus, we all did them before you were here, so it’s only fair.” 

I laughed a little, already feeling a little tipsy and nodded. “Fine. Fine.” I said. “I’m not leaving here without at least one Cosmo in me though.” 

After a trip to the bar and a few drinks, conversation became lively, and jokes were exchanged freely. Everyone had loosened up quite a considerable amount, including Hotch, who was known for a much more stoic appearance at these things. 

It was JJ who eventually suggested we all take part in a drinking game, a habit from her teenage years emerging, when the options for entertainment in her small town were limited between drinking or visiting a local grocery store. If there was anyone skilled at turning a seemingly mundane situation into a lively one, it was her.

“Ooh!” Penelope said, clearly enticed by the idea. “What do you propose we do?” She said, clasping her hands excitedly together and laughing. 

“How about Never Have I Ever?” JJ suggests, smirking. I internally groaned. Never Have I Ever was fun, but when it turned sexual it was always a bit awkward for Spencer and I specifically. Whereas the married members of our team had the luxury of not having their partners there when risque questions were asked,  Spencer and I would awkwardly put down both our fingers at the same time, watching as our team put two and two together and realize we’d actually done that thing together. It was all in good fun and it didn’t bother me or him that much. We were a couple. Of course we had sex- but still. Having everyone at the table know that the man who was the cause for all my put-down fingers and empty shot glasses was actually right next to me always proved to make some interesting situations for the two of us. 

Still, we agreed good naturedly and smiled, as noises of approval spread among the table, everyone seemingly on board with the idea.

JJ looked happy, opting to ask the first question, since it was her suggestion in the first place.

“Okay, okay.” JJ says, excitedly. “Never have I ever.. slept with a coworker.” She flashed a mischievous smile, her eyes seemingly drifting towards our side of the table.

Spencer and I immediately groaned and the table erupted in laughter. 

“Sorry, sorry.” JJ said, putting her hands up in playful defense. “You know I had to. It’s practically tradition at this point when we play."

Spencer and I clinked our respective drinks with a small smile exchanged between the two of us, letting the bitter and burning liquid plague our throats. Penelope took a shot as well, since she had been with Kevin. We all argued for a bit that technically JJ’s relationship hinged on the fact that she’d met her husband working on a case. It was eventually decided that since Will never worked at the BAU specifically, JJ was void from putting a finger down. Even then, JJ wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to drink and took a shot anyway, and grinned. “Onto the next person.” She said, raising her shot glass to the person on her right. 

Derek beamed brightly, being the next person in succession to ask a question. “Alright, my turn.” Derek pauses. “Never have I ever had a threesome.” He says, confidently.

Emily smiled, sipping from her glass. “That’s me.” She said, tipping her head back and seemingly having no reaction. 

“Really Prentiss?” Derek said, smirking a bit. “How was he?” 

“Who said there was a ‘he’ at all?” Prentiss fired back, with a smirk and Derek nodded, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “Damn.” 

“Damn indeed.” Prentiss said, laughing a bit. “My turn. Erm. Never have I ever had sex in public.” 

Spencer and I glanced at each other, hesitated, before lifting up our drinks to our lips simultaneously. The entire team’s eyes widened, watching us. 

“Hold on- what?” Penelope said, leaning over. “No way! You two are so.. proper!” She exclaimed, in disbelief. “Where would you even..?” She says, trailing off, trying to figure out how she could reason this in her mind. 

“Hey, I don’t kiss and tell.” I say with a smirk. Spencer let his hand snake around my waist, away from the eyes of our incredulous coworkers. 

Derek laughs a little. “Well, at least we can be sure you two aren't the closet couple.” Derek remarks, and the team laughs. "That isn't something you'd ever do."

“Closet couple?” Spencer says, and even if he’s trying to hide it, I could sense the edge in his voice. 

“You know!" Penelope said, excitedly. “Nobody knows who they are- but there’s this couple who keeps sneaking into the storage closet off the hallways to have sex.” 

Prentiss interrupts. “I’m telling you, it’s that guy and girl downstairs in Records.” She says, nodding with absolute certainty. “All alone in that basement all day? I’d want sex that makes me scream like that too.” 

I heard the words and could feel my cheeks immediately heat up. Jesus, they were talking about me. Spencer and I were fully aware of the fact that we could be caught, especially since we weren’t exactly the best at staying quiet, but hearing our team discuss us- our sex, right in front of us without even realizing it was a mortifying experience nonetheless. 

“I just wanna know what he’s doing to her in there.” JJ muses, and everyone nodded in agreement. “Like, are you having sex or absolutely murdering the girl in there?” 

Spencer blushed at that, and now both of us were avoiding eye contact with the team, but they seemed totally unfazed, considering they were continuing their conversation about the aforementioned couple. 

“I swear, somedays I want to stand outside that closet just to see who comes out, but they spend such an ungodly amount of time in there and there’s only so long you can listen to two people having sex before it gets weird.” Emily remarked, and JJ laughed. 

“We’d have to take shifts, trying to catch them in the act.” and everyone agreed, nodding. “He must last long if they can spend that much time there..” JJ noted, offhandedly. 

“As fun as it is to speculate on who’s having sex in a closet.” Hotch starts, “It’s getting late. I’m going to finish us off with an easy one.” Hotch says, looking at the team. 

“Never have I ever had sex in a storage closet.”  Hotch says, clearly expecting none of us to take the last few remaining shot glasses on the table. 

Spencer bit his lip, hesitantly reaching over the table to take two shots for himself and me, and we both downed it. As we set our glasses down, we were met with the shocked faces of our coworkers. Derek's mouth was slightly agape, and Penelope pointed between the two of us, trying to connect the dots.

“You know what?” I say, loudly, before any of them can say anything. “I think that’s our cue to leave.” I comment, starting to push Spencer out of the booth, and he immediately understands my urgency. He grabs my hand and nods. 

“Yeah, it’s getting late.” He says, hurriedly getting out of the booth. “We’ll see you all on Monday!” He let his strong grip nearly drag me out of the booth, and we had our backs to the team in a split second.

“Hold on! You can’t just-” Penelope called out, but we’d already made it halfway across the bar before our coworkers could question us about what had just happened. As we left the bar in a panicked rush and felt the cold wind nipping at us, we took one look at each other and burst into laughter. 

“Is it safe to assume they know?” Spencer said, through laughs. 

My own chuckles came out a little embarrassed. “Incredibly safe to assume, actually.” I said, smirking at him nonetheless. “Now we know that all our coworkers think you’re murdering me during sex.” I say, playfully nudging his shoulder. 

Spencer wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into a soft, yet passionate kiss. It takes me by surprise but I immediately melt into it, wrapping my arms around him. I can feel his lips moving against mine, and when he slips his tongue in, I can feel the taste of liquor transferring from his mouth to mine. He pulls back and grins, boyishly. 

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” Spencer said, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke.

I bit my lip. He looked so fucking sexy right now, the adrenaline from the game and the drinks making his complexion look rosy and hot. His hair was messy from our kiss, and his lips slightly swollen. Despite what felt like embarrassment in the bar, I realized it didn’t corrode the fact that I desperately wanted the man.

“Spencer.” I say, tugging on his shirt. “I need you.” I breathe out. 

"I need you too, baby." He responds, rubbing small circles into my waist.

"No, I need you. Please." I say, hoping he caught onto what I was asking for, without me explicitly saying so.

He knits his brows, understanding, and he let his hands linger on my waist. “Okay, baby.” He says, hesitantly. “Let’s get back home-” 

My desire, only heightened by the alcohol I’d consumed, caused me to shake my head. “No.” I interrupted. “Please, I need you now.” I say, using a voice that would go straight to his cock, full of broken desperation and need for him, just for him. 

It worked. He took one look at my blown out pupils and my parted lips and looked around. “I don’t wanna go back to the bar since the team could see us.” He groans. 

“Then here.” I say, frantically. 

“(Y/N).” He says, rubbing my shoulders. “I love sex just as much as you do but the front of a bar is not-” 

“Not here.” I say rolling my eyes. “The back. That one alleyway?” I say, praying to every God that my boyfriend would just say yes. And thankfully, he did. His face broke out in a smug expression, realizing we could actually have sex now, nearly dragging me as much as I’d allow him. I could feel the exhilaration and lust permeating from both of us, and as soon as we got to the alleyway, he got to work, kissing up columns up and down my neck. He didn’t even bother to check if someone was out there, turning his entire focus to me, to us, and how badly he wanted this. 

With every kiss and bite at my neck, my whimpers grew louder, and he cruelly put a mouth over my mouth, muffling my sounds. 

“Stay quiet.” He growled, and I looked at him, my eyes begging him to just fuck me already. 

“I think enough people know how much of a needy slut you are already, mm?" He says, beginning to undo my jeans and flipping me around, so his broad chest was up against my back.  "Or are you that much of a whore that you want the people at the bar to know too?”

He let the hand encompassing my mouth drop, and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Make one noise, and I stop.” I then realized that I could feel the head of his arousal rubbing against my folds, and my knees nearly went weak from the sensation. I hadn’t even realized we’d moved this fast, and suddenly, he entered me with a rough thrust, nearly pushing me into the wall. 

It took everything in me not to let out a yelp of surprise, and the bite I had on my tongue in this moment was sure to draw blood, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was every rough thrust that Spencer fucked into me, holding my hips with a bruising force, jutting into me like a man possessed. 

“You like that, mm?” Spencer whispered, leaning over to let his ears brush over the shell of my ear. “You like the idea of being caught? Of everyone knowing how fucking well I treat you?” 

I nod, wildly. “Yes.” I whisper. “Spencer, please-” 

But my words are cut off by another pass of his cock in me, leaving my jaw dropped but no sound coming out. 

“Come on, baby.” He grunts, cruelly. “Gave you one rule, didn’t I?” He says. He notices how weak my knees have gotten in the midst of our rendezvous, and he quickly grips onto my hair, pulling me up against him. “Can’t be a good girl for me?” He teases, a ruthless lilt in his tone. 

I whimper, nodding. “I can. I can” I mumble incoherently. I start to fuck back on him, matching the movement of his hips into mine, feeling myself rapidly approach my orgasm. “Please. I need- I need-” and without thinking of the consequences, I come, feeling the tension leave my body in pleasure inducing waves that cause my entire body to convulse. This only spurs him on to go faster, feeling the clench of my cunt around his cock. 

“Fuck- you feel so good. So fucking good around me.” He praises, and in an instant, his head is thrown back and I can feel him emptying himself inside me with a shudder, still gripping my hair with a desperate, primal need. He's panting, and breathless, and he pulls out as he finishes, tucking himself back into his pants quickly. He lovingly turned his attention to me, fixing me up as well. I whimpered softly as he took care of me, brushing my hair back and pressing small kisses to the back of my neck.

He turns me back to face him once he managed to get my underwear and jeans back up, and caressed my face, planting a tender kiss on my lips, then my forehead, and then bringing me close for a hug. I can feel the scent of sex, liquor and his cologne swarming my senses, and it only causes me to retreat into him deeper. I sense him breathing in my scent, and it makes me smile, knowing we both derived the comfort we needed from each other in that moment.

Finally, he mumbles against the top of my head. 

“Let’s get a cab and go home. Let me run you a bath. You’re so good to me.” He murmurs, still holding me in his arms like I was the last precious thing on Earth. 

I giggled against him, nodding. “Yeah. Yes, please.” I say, still a bit breathless, retreating from his embrace. “I’m surprised I managed to convince you to do that.” I remark, smirking a little, despite myself. “I can’t imagine how many germs are in an alleyway.” 

My boyfriend, of course, cringes. “Don’t remind me.” He says, squeezing my hand. beginning to lead me to the main road to find a cab. He then looks at me, a little smugly. “But I’d say it was worth it, right?” 

“Absolutely.” I respond, squeezing his hand back, a smile gracing my face. He smiles back, and I feel my heart jump.

I don't think I'll ever stop feeling like I’d won the lottery when it came to him. 

ahh! only got it out 1 day late. so that's good. hi! hope you enjoyed. nearly 4 people requested a part 2, so i hope you guys liked my take on the team "catching" them. any likes, reblogs, comments are so appreciated. thank you for reading. i am eternally grateful. ty!!! cannot say it enough

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal- Part 19

WC: 2134, Masterpost

Danny sit up straighter in his chair as he states his name, but Wally can see the wince that Danny tries to hide. Absently, Wally runs through Danny’s schedule of care and when the other will be able to have more pain medication.

“Were you born with powers?” Bruce continues.

“No.”

Wally wants to go to Danny. He wants to tell him that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that Danny has powers. It doesn’t mater how he got them. It doesn’t matter that Wally didn’t know. None of it matters to Wally; he’s just glad that Danny is still here.

“Are you comfortable explaining how did you got your powers?”

Danny runs his hand through his hair. He’s nervous. “Some of it. The broad strokes. It was a lab accident, because of course there was. My parents are ecto scientists, they study ghosts. They’re not… let’s just say don’t read their research into ghostly behavior. They are brilliant engineers though. They managed to build a portal to the Infinite Realms—”

“Minging knobheads,” John curses quietly.

“—and I was sorta in the portal when it turned on. Which, um, killed me and revived me at the same time. I was electrocuted while my system was flooded with ectoplasm.”

Killed.

Danny had— Danny had died. Again, before, Danny had died. Wally closed his eyes and swallowed around the catch in his throat. He almost never got the chance to know Danny. A hand fit into his and Wally knows instantly that it’s Dick’s. He grips it back tightly. At least he isn’t listening to this alone.

“It’s not so much that I got powers, as that because I’m half dead, I’m half ghost and I can do the things that ghosts can do. Invisibility, intangibility, flight… things like that. Long story short, someone had to stop the ghosts that the portal let through—”

John is up and pacing now. Zatanna doesn’t even try to stop him.

“—so I sort of became the town hero. I went by Phantom. It was… well, you’ve all been there.”

God, Wally wishes Danny didn’t know how that was.

“Kid… did you even have anyone to help you?” Barry asks.

Danny shrugs. “Two friends and eventually Ja… my older sister.. There are a few ghosts that were sometimes allies but ghosts…”

“Ghosts aren’t good or evil, they’ve got obsessions,” John explains into the silence. “Sometimes those obsessions motivate the ghosts in a way that seems one way or another. It only works out for you as long as your needs aligns with their obsession.”

Wally’s mind spins.

“Danny,” Bruce asks with very careful words, “do you have an obsession?”

He searches back through his memories of Danny.

“Yes.”

It couldn’t be anything anyone would see as bad or dangerous.

“Protection. My obsession is protection. It’s not as compelling to me as it is for a full ghost. For me it’s more like a hunger craving or itch, but it is there. It’s a good part of why I became a paramedic.”

Oh. That made so much sense.

“That’s our Danny,” Danna says, softly, from in their group.

“Why did you not simply join us as a hero?” Diana asks.

“Before, well, things were… complicated? There’s this government agency that considers ghosts non-sentient and—”

Danny jerks back in his chair at all the exclamations that rang out in the room at that. It isn’t just a reaction to the sudden noise, Wally realizes, Danny looks startled at being defended.

It breaks Wally’s heart.

“It’s okay!” Danny says over the din. “They were always pretty incompetent, really, even when working with my parents. I never even ended up vivisected or anything!”

Gar clamps a hand over his mouth and mutters. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Danny,” Dianna says his name gently, “have your parents ever attacked you?”

“They don’t know I’m a halfa. They don’t know I’m Phantom,” Danny says. There’s a pleading note to his voice that makes Wally agree with Gar; he’s going to be sick.

“But they’ve attacked Phantom,” Dianna says. It’s not a question, but Danny nods anyways. “Danny, do we need to set up protection for you from your parents?”

“They don’t know—”

“Kid,” Barry interrupts, “what you did was on the news. Like, every news station across the world. I think they know now.”

Danny sits back in his chair. He picks at the already frayed edge of the hoodie. Suddenly he looks small in a way that Wally’s only seen when Danny’s been in the middle of a panic attack. Any strength Danny’s gathered the last few days seems to leave him as his shoulders slump. “Maybe. I guess… I don’t know how they’ll take the news. It’s… maybe. We’ll, um, more than that someone needs to make sure the portal stays closed down. If the ghosts start coming through again…”

The hand Danny presses against his chest shakes. “I’m not as strong as I used to be. I don’t know if my powers will come back still or if this… is what I am now, but my core is weaker than it used to be. If this the way I’ll be now, I won’t be able to fight them off.”

“Are they dangerous?” Bruce asks. “Beyond the morality of their obsession, are they actively dangerous to you?”

“That’s not an easy question. Mostly the ghosts used Amity Park as a new way to fulfill their obsessions. Lunch Lady wants to feed people, which is good, but if you don’t want to eat things can get nasty. Obsessions are like that, they can twist quickly. The ghosts also just like to brawl, a lot of them at least. Some of them would understand if I can’t and back off, but there are others… take Skulker,” Danny says with a wave of his hand, “his obsession is hunting rare game and, well, I’m rare game. He wants to mount my pelt to his wall.”

With an unpleasant noise, Gar dashes from the room. It makes Danny wince and mumble an apology.

Wally is already mentally calling favors to call in to safeguard their apartment, not that he thinks anyone will say no to protecting Danny.

“We’ll make checking on the portal a priority as soon as this meeting is done,” Bruce assures Danny.

“Thank you. I don’t want anyone to be hurt if it gets turned back on.”

“Why has it been off? If it’s off, why would they turn it back on now?” John asks, still pacing.

Danny looks away from the table again. “Because they remember now.”

“The curse?” John asks at the same time Bary asks, “What do you mean remember?”

“I mean they forgot, because, yeah, the curse,” Danny says. He’s back to picking at his sleeve. Everyone gives him time to try and find his words, which he does with a wet laugh. “I was stupid. I mean, I was young, but I still should have known better. I was just… I was having a hard time. My parents were working on a new GIW contract and my friends… team were going off to college… I was going to be alone to deal with the ghosts. I still should have known better. I just wished I could be normal.”

“That’s not wrong, Danny,” Barry says. “We’ve all felt that sometime…”

Danny’s shaking his head. “You don’t understand. You don’t wish in Amity Park.”

“Because of this Desiree?” Zatanna asks.

“Because of Desiree,” Danny confirms. “Some ghosts have very specific powers and those are usually strong powers. For Desiree, it’s… it was reality altering based on wishes. I forgot to never say ‘I wish’.”

After a moment of comprehending silence, Diana asks, “She had the power to make you fully human?”

“No, even borrowing power like I think she did, Desiree couldn’t do that. But that’s not what she needed to do. Normal isn’t a real thing, it’s just societal, you know? She just had to make sure no one remembered I was half dead and, tada, I had a normal life.”

John finally stops pacing and leans against the back of his chair. His cigarette is a mangled mess dangling from his lips. “What was the catch?”

“I wanted to be normal, so I had to stay normal. I couldn’t be noticed using any of my powers or being too ghostly or tell anyone I had died or what things used to be like. If I did— well you all saw what happened,” Danny looks up, finally, right at Wally. “It’s why I couldn’t tell any of you, even if I wanted too. It’s why I couldn’t use my powers to help. As soon as I did, I was good as dead.”

More than ever Wally wants to rush over to Danny’s side. He wants to let Danny know it’s alright that he kept this secret. It doesn’t matter. He settles for what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“I still don’t know how I survived. As soon as Desiree appeared and took my powers, that should have been it for me. My ghost half can’t survive without them and my human half isn’t alive enough to last by itself. It would be like cutting off a normal person’s oxygen. I should have been ended.”

“We overloaded her,” Zatanna explains.

“Forced all your power— which there was a fucking lot of it— into her at once,” John finished. “She popped like a balloon with too much air.”

“Did you have to describe it that way?” Hal grumbles.

“Oh.” Danny blinks a few times as he took that in. “I guess, okay. I mean, yeah, I was more powerful than a lot of ghosts; something about being a halfa and my state being mutable still. I didn’t think though… right, okay. But how am I still here?”

“When she popped,” John says with a smirk towards Hal, “the air was full of ambient ectoplasm. Flash zapped you, re-started your heart, and the cloud went up like a match in a fart.”

Danny’s face wrinkled up at that. “Ew. But, alright. I mean it was my power first. I guess that…” Danny’s hand comes up to press over his sternum. “I guess that means this is my power level now.”

“And the rest of the curse?” Zatanna asks, leaning forward in her seat.

“Gone. People remember now.”

Wally thought to all the phone messages Danny had been getting in a new light.

“That’s why we need to make sure the portal is closed.”

“As well as that the GIW are shut down and that your parents do not try to harm you,” Diana says with that firm certainty of hers.

“Right,” Danny says after a beat. It’s hard to see how clearly Danny doesn’t consider himself a priority. “And… for the rest of it all?”

Diana tilts her head in question. “The rest of it?”

“I didn’t tell anyone my status. I lied to some of you. Is that…”

“You did what you needed to stay alive and hurt no one.” She holds up a hand to stop any protests from Danny. “While I have no doubt with your heart as it is you do not wish you could have done more, it would have never been asked of you at the cost of your life. You are a hero, Danny, and have been since you joined the Response Team in Central City. You have only continued to prove it by your willingness to act and the honor with which you did so. The Justice League is proud to still have you as your post, as soon as you are recovered.”

Finally the last of the tension drains Danny’s shoulders. “I’ll be happy to get back to it.”

Wally tunes Diana out as she wraps up the meeting.

“I’m going to ask him,” Wally says to Dick, who still has his hand.

“What? Now?” Dick hisses.

Wally watches as Danny shakes Clark’s hand. “Why not? Everyone’s here, like you said had to be.”

“Because it’s a debrief! That’s not exactly the most romantic moment.”

The other Titans are standing around them, waiting for their chance to see Danny. Even Gar is back.

“I almost missed my chance, N. I almost never got to ask,” Wally pleads. “I don’t want to miss it again.”

Dick just sighs and pulls a small case out of his belt. He presses it into their clasped hands before releasing his grip

Wally can feel the smile stretching across his face. “You know me so well.”

Dick just shoves Wally off his chair. “Go get your man. Ghost? Man ghost.”

Laughing, Wally fumbles to his feet and towards Danny.

“Danny!”

Danny who’s still here and alive.

Who smiles like the sun as he turns towards Wally.

“Yes?”

---

AN: I don't know, is it too cruel to end right there? 😇 Don't worry, we'll get an epilogue to hopefully tie the loose ends up in a bow! But this is the last half of the last full chapter! They know! And they still respect and love Danny. He can stop worrying~

You can subscribe to the masterpost here.

[esamastation]

Part thirty-four of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three

-

Sephiroth feels a little better after an evening of meditation and a full night of sleep. Things look a little better in the light of day, and though the question of what the fuck he'd going to do about the war is still there, it has been put off. In favour of monster hunting!

"You seem… excited?" Angeal comments as they prepare to go.

He is! "Mn," Sephiroth answers, and carefully doesn't bounce with eagerness.

Even if the monsters of Final Fantasy can't hold a candle to the convoluted, messy and lazily put together nature of the monsters in PIDW, they're still interesting! Especially since he isn't sure what they actually are and how they work. Advent Children and Crisis Core really make it so unclear, because, like, everything turned into energy sparkles when it died? And he thinks in the movie one of the Sephiroth copies - weird to think about them now - summoned some monsters with magic? And then there was Zack in Crisis Core. Who turned into sparkles when he died!

Not everything can just disappear into energy, right, you need living things dying and rotting and composting to make up soil and stuff! If plants just disappear when they die, what do people eat, what were all these buildings made from? Plus he distinctly remembers coal being a thing in this setting, there was a whole town that got shafted because of it and everything, so fossil fuels exist, therefore stuff must leave behind physical remains! Except when it doesn't?

So! Is death like instant ascending here? Or like it descending, since all energy returns to the Planet? Sephiroth is pretty sure that Aerith left behind a body, and there were definitely corpses in the original game - but again, in the prequel it was really unclear. Enemies in combat disappeared, but cutscene death left a body. Except when it didn't!

Ah, the limitations of technology.

Still, he's interested in seeing how the creatures would look and feel and compare them to those he knows from PIDW. Final Fantasy VII had some really weird monsters, and he has a bet going with himself about how much they resemble awakened beasts or yaoguai. 

Angeal looks at him and then smiles, hoisting the Buster Sword to his back. "Ready to go, then?"

"Ready," Sephiroth agrees.

"We're going to have to talk to the Colonel first, but don't worry - I'll handle the talking," Angeal says. "He's an… old-fashioned soldier." 

Sephiroth arches a brow. It sounds like a warning. "Which means…?"

"He doesn't like SOLDIER, he thinks we're stuck up and get our abilities handed to us, we don't deserve our reputation, the usual stuff," Angeal shrugs. "Just ignore it and let me handle it."

"... If you say so."

They head outside together, and Sephiroth takes a moment to look around and try to be an objective observer. This place isn't really anything like the towns back home, in PIDW - the aesthetics are mixed, and though they're more like home than Midgar was, it's as if the place was squeezed through a funhouse mirror. It's just a little off.

And of course, there are no locals anywhere to be seen for a full comparison - just Shinra troops, infantry men and SOLDIERs. Who, the moment they notice him and Angeal, stop to stare and point and whisper.

Has the… incident in Midgar already spread this far, or is this really what it's like being Sephiroth all the time?

Depressing.

"Here," Angeal says and leads him to another house, apparently being used by the Colonel. "Remember, let me do the talking. You just stand there and look imposing, okay?"

Sephiroth snorts. "I think I can manage that."

The Colonel didn't look happy to see them, but then, he doesn't look like a man that's ever really happy. He sizes Sephiroth up and then scoffs. "It's about time. I don't know what kind of discipline you SOLDIER Firsts enjoy in Midgar, but this is a war front, sir, there are rules here."

Does that mean Sephiroth isn't a General then? 

"Right, you're right, of course, sir," Angeal says placatingly. "Well, we're here now, and we already have missions lined up, so -"

The Colonel ignores him and comes around his desk and to Sephiroth's face. "You've been in and out of Wutai for most of this war, isn't that correct, SOLDIER?"

Sephiroth blinks at the man, slowly. "I suppose so." Behind the Colonel Angeal looks panicked.

"What was that?" The Colonel asks dangerously, narrowing his eyes. "You suppose so?"

Sephiroth narrows his eyes back.

The Colonel continues. "When talking to an officer of superior rank, you answer yes sir, or no sir. You do not suppose! Now, do you have experience in the war or not, SOLDIER?!"

Oh, someone is feeling very insecure in their boots, aren't they?

Now, Sephiroth could handle this with all the tact and delicacy of Shen Qingqiu… but even Shen Qingqiu wouldn't have swallowed that kind of spiel without biting. The original definitely wouldn't have! And Sephiroth is supposed to be a villain… well.

Sephiroth smiles - the Colonel recoils.

Last night he'd reread everything there was on his phone about Wutai, going through all his missions again, trying to get as much intelligence as he could. Funny, the things the tutorial left out. 

"I'm sorry," Sephiroth says sweetly. "Who are you?"

The Colonel goes a little red. "Excuse me, SOLDIER?"

"You're barking at me as though at a private, expecting me to go yes sir and no sir," Sephiroth says mockingly. "And yet I have no clue as to who you even are."

Behind the Colonel Angeal gapes and then lifts a pleading look to the ceiling.

The Colonel sputters. "You, you - How dare -"

Ah, you gotta love zero IQ bullies.

"I was given a whole slew of missions and orders," Sephiroth says softly. "All are very vital and high priority. I'm to slay monsters that have killed your men, I'm to hunt down spies you've clearly failed to find, I'm to clear a guard station you haven't been able to get near, I'm to weaken a fortress you cannot even touch, and ten other things besides. All my mission files are very clear. And you know what they all have in common?"

He leans a little closer to the Colonel - right in his purple face. "Not a single one of them mentions you."

Then, before the Colonel can recover, Sephiroth turns on his heel with an imaginary mike drop and saunters out, feeling a whole lot better about everything. The sun is shining, the troopers are scattering at the mere sight of him, and the air is fresh and sweet with natural Qi.

Already this day is looking up.

Angeal, clearly deciding that evasion was the better part of valour, hurries after him. "We're going to pay for that later, you know," he says, sounding defeated.

Of that Sephiroth doesn't have any doubts. What good is a one-time bully? There'd either be a horrifying scene of comeuppance to bring home the realities of war, or a heartfelt discovery and understanding about how they're not so different after all, or whatever else. 

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it," Sephiroth says cheerfully. "Now. I was promised monsters."

Angeal sighs, glancing back at the house commandeered by the Colonel. "... I guess we better clear out anyway. Alright," he motions. "Right this way to the monsters."

Sephiroth grins at his bitchy tone, and together they head out.

-

SY can have a petty bully scene, as a treat.

[cosurmqne]

01 — a short life of trouble

[ RDR2 X fem reader , 2334 words ] — next ✶

rhodes was a quiet town at the best of times. as much as the pompous sherrif, mr leigh gray, liked to juice up his line of work, the most action this collection of run-down buildings saw was the same petty feud between two families that was seemingly everlasting. an alleyway punch up after a night of drinking, perhaps even a few shots on the outskirts of town; this was all that was worth talking about amongst its residents, whatever distracted them from their lungs filling with red dust kicked up by horses and the sun drying up their almost forgotten patch of land in the valley of lemoyne.

when dutch van der linde first rode into the town, he felt at home, a welcome sight for the conman. it was a clean slate, filled with nooks and crannies that he could infiltrate and manipulate at his will. the townsfolk were stupid, the law even more so; it was a perfect combination to have some fun. it was no surprise to the rest of his gang that in no time at all, he was already sitting pretty on the porch of the sheriffs office, hand rested on the shoulder of sheriff gray himself. and lets not forget, with a gleaming deputy badge pinned firmly on his chest.

his main confidants, arthur morgan and hosea matthews, agreed that there was an opportunity for control here, to take what they needed and disappear before anyone in rhodes knew what had hit them, or that they were to blame. they were, after all, outlaws. on the run from forces beyond their capabilities. it only took a matter of days for the rest of their gang to settle in and set themselves up once again in a temporary camp to call home, finding a location south of the town in a secluded grassy plain. it was close to town, but still hidden unless you knew the right tracks to follow.

placing himself firmly amongst the law had led to dutch walking freely around town, a feeling he had not been able to experience in months, perhaps even years. still in a state of high alert (one that never seemed to leave), he allowed himself to look less frequently over his shoulder, not analyse every face he saw or mentally count how many weapons the men around him may have on them at any given moment. occupational hazards had ingrained this behaviour into him since a young age, but at least he could leave the confines of his camp more confident than he had in a long while.

arthur and himself rode down the now familiar dirt road towards the sunbaked town, passing dry fields and even nodding at passers by. dutch chuckled slightly, “we are living it up now son! look at me, look at us!”

arthur let himself crack a smile, “yup, i don’t know how you manage to squeeze your way into situations like these but …. thank goodness. everyone at camp seems settled in, happy even.”

dutch turned to the outlaw riding next to him, “what did i tell you arthur. i have a plan. it’s working. these fools are just the beginning.” he raised his hand to gesture to rhodes, now larger on the horizon and full of morning activity. people entering the train station to the right, some riding through to perhaps visit some of the general stores throughout. the local saloon would even start filling up with its regular drunks soon enough , even this early in the day.

“now,” dutch continued, “you break off to the left here and go visit our dear friend trelawny. last i heard he’s living amongst thieves in old trailers on the outskirts of town, see what kind of information he’s kicked up these past couple of weeks. meanwhile, i’ll go catch up with our great protector.” he placed an exaggerated hand on the deputy badge his chest, chuckling once again, “this sheriff’s perhaps a greater fool than even uncle.”

arthur laughed then let out a sigh, “fine, but next time you deal with trelawny. who knows what scheme he’s going to wrap me into.” with a kick to his horse, he rode away from dutch, leaving him to continue riding deeper into town.

hitching his loyal arabian in front of of the sheriffs office, he entered the building oozing the charisma and confidence that any man would dream to have. within ten minutes, he left holding official papers and a smug look on his face. mr gray had so graciously given him a tip off about some illegal moonshiners east of rhodes, the only instruction? to eradicate the men; any means necessary, just get the job done.

this translated to only mean two things to dutch; free booze and easy money.

eager to return to camp and start planning this ‘offical raid’ with a few extra men, he jumped back onto his horse and slowly started to make his way back home. shoving the papers into the saddle bag on his left, he allowed himself to light a cigar and let out a low sigh while he held it loosely between his calloused fingers. delicious and familiar smoke filling his lung, with an oblivious town in front of him. things were looking damn good …

just as he passed the bloody faced butcher hacking at a deer, he heard the first gunshot.

instantly alert, his still-lit cigar hit the dirt road and both hands were like stone by his sides, each ready to uncap the holsters beneath them at a moments notice. he scanned the area, turning his head every which way, already looking towards the hiding places he had mentally noted weeks earlier in which someone could potentially hide. just as he was straining to hear any sort of noise, he heard yet another gunshot within seconds.

habits had made him duck closer to his saddle, his horse becoming skiddish as dutch looked around once again. the townspeople were on high alert also, most crouched or back indoors after a few shouts. seconds passed before dutch realised that the shots were coming from out of town entirely, the echoes ringing out from where he guessed was the thicker forest that stood in the distance. these past months had made him assume every gun was pointed towards him, each loud noise, bullet or not, had made him instantly ready to fight and assuming the worst.

sitting straighter and tightening the grip around his reins to calm his horse, he figured the folk around him had concluded the same, most standing up and even waving their hands with a dismissive gesture. he had come to realise that in this town, if the shooting wasn’t at your front door, it wasn’t your problem ….

‘righteous people, truly ….’ he jokingly thought to himself.

another shot ran out from the trees, causing the remaining birds in the area to fly over the canopy. flinching less than before, dutch started his horse into a gallop once again, leaving rhodes to deal with their own backyard business. whoever it was, dutch figured he would rather it be their problem than his. moving closer towards the tree line on the dirt track to camp, he did let himself wonder what all the ruckus was about…. then it hit him …. that sinking feeling that usually rested at the bottom of his chest.

arthur …..

quickening his horse, dutch cut off the path and ran towards the forest. ‘trelawny….. that damn fool.’ he thought, his mind racing towards conclusion that he hoped weren't true. ‘who knows what kind of business he put those two up too. those gunshots could have been from anybody … but ….’

breaking through the tree line, he scanned the area on horseback, looking on the ground for tracks, broken branches, blood strains, anything. moving closer to where he guessed the shots were coming from, he got down from his horse and continued on foot. each step he took was barely audible despite the dry leaf litter below, his right hand once again hovering steady above the shining revolver on his hip… he could smell gunpowder in the air, this must be the place.

“arthur? son are you here?” he let himself say aloud in shouted whisper, scanning the trees for any sign of movement. the area was thick with stumps, boulders, tree trunks and bushes, all bending and layering into a green and brown mess. it was eerily quiet, most animals being scared into running with all the noise, despite a few birds chirping as they bravely returned to their nests so soon.

eyes, ears and mind alert, ducth finally saw something, a body laying face down a few feet in front of him. he let himself rush over and sighed as he realised it belonged to a stranger. not just a stranger he realised, but an o’driscoll! ‘yes’ he thought, ‘green vest, rusty gun… missing teeth… good riddance.’

looking up he saw another body laying in a flower bed to the right. both men were huge in stature, undoubtably lacking brains, but still a force not taken on without guts and skill. looking down at the o’driscoll closest to him once again, he noticed that he had a gunshot wound, right in the middle of his forehead…. impressive. walking over to the other, he had the same. a clean and fatal shot. perhaps this was arthurs handy-work?

he stood and continued deeper into the forest, calling for arthur once again. he passed yet another dead o’driscoll, taking the satisfaction of stepping right over his body and observing yet another perfect headshot. three gunshots, three wounds, three dead o’driscolls. mystery solved.

right?

“arthur, where the hell are you boy?” he called once again. perhaps trelawney and himself were long gone, away from the scene and disappeared before the real trouble of the law or more o’driscolls showed up. or maybe they were never here at all?

dutch stood straighter and felt himself relax. whatever happened here seemed to be over, and his two men were nowhere to be seen. just as he figured he may as well leave this be and head on his way, he heard the snap of a branch behind him. turning around in an instant, hand already holding the loaded revolver in his hand, he froze as he came face to face with the barrel of a rusted repeater.

“dont. move.”

a woman was standing before him. her hair was matted, eyes wide, skin covered in who knows what but hands steady as a rock, eyebrows furrowed in fierce concentration. she was wearing a blouse, ripped and stained dark with what dutch assumed to be blood, her skirt torn and thinning. the boot she wore seemed three sized too big, a second gun on her side attached with nothing but a thin rope tied around her waist.

dutch slowly raised his palms in line with his shoulders, gun pointed upwards, “miss? i-” he started.

“don’t. who the hell are you.” she spoke stern but her voice sounded exhausted. she hid the shakiness well.

“i’m ….” he trailed off, “miss, did you kill those men back there?”

she stood unmoving. “so what if i did. those are bad men.… now answer my question.”

“oh i know,” he ignored her still, moving his right hand to touch his chest and daring to take a small step forward. “i’m glad they're laying face down in the dirt where they belong.” he paused. “thats some fine shooting you must have had.”

she looked him up and down with a quick glance, eyebrows furrowed, “what are you playing at…”

dutch dared once again to take a step forward, eyes glued to the woman with an unwavering confidence, despite the gun pointed right at his chest. “you asked who i am? my name is dutch van der line. i’m somewhat of a… outlaw around here. cast off and trying to survive….. i sense that you can relate to that.”

the woman seemed to slip out of her fierce gaze for a split second, her arms lowering slightly then snapping back into position, even taking a cowering step backwards as the stranger in front of her continued forward.

“i’m sure you're tired miss, hungry?” dutch continued. “when was the last time you laid to rest without keeping one eye open…” he moved closer still, his steps more frequent. “trust me, i’ve been there. i can help. we can help you.”

the woman stared, she didn’t know what to say, what to do, what to respond. and dutch knew it. he had her just how he wanted.

he was close enough now to raise his hand and place it on the barrel of her gun, slowly lowering it and moving in. he spoke low, calm and considerate. “miss… if you come with me, i can give you all these things. we have a camp, not too far from here. we already have a common enemy it seems,” he gestured behind him to the dead o’driscolls, even smiling slightly as he turned back, “it doesn't matter who you are, what you’ve done, just … trust me.”

the woman was staring unblinkingly at dutch, but he could tell that she had no choice, she seemed so exhausted, guessed she had nowhere to go. how long had see been alone for? was the dried blood that painted her clothes her own, or some other dead fool? “please miss, whats you’re name.”

“y/n.” she responded weakly, finally letting her arms drop by her sides. it seemed despite her unmoving position, she was struggling to hold up the heavy gun, her arms and strength exhausted. she allowed herself to let her guard down, her legs making her sway, shoulders slumped. it was all too much.

ducth let himself touch her shoulder, holding her small frame in his skilled hands as he let out a high whistle, calling his horse towards them.

“come on y/n. you’re safe now.”

[nonotnolan]

Gym Merchandise

Few experiences in life are as terrible as having to move to an entirely new town.  It was a hill that Wyatt was prepared to die on.  The move had allowed him to escape his overbearing parents, so regret wasn’t quite the right word, but... getting used to the new roads, having to meet new people, trying to figure out which stores could be trusted... it was exhausting in a way that was notably different from standing at a cash register for eight hours.

His coworkers were far too nice to help him make any sort of decisions.  “Oh, I use the dentist on 8th St, but I hear the office on 15th is also good.”  “No, I just take my car to the auto dealership for repairs, I’ve never had any reason to find a separate mechanic.”  “All of the doctors in town are pretty good, I would just pick one that’s close to you.”  If it wasn’t for Reddit, he probably would have never been able to find a good gym.

Wyatt still couldn’t believe how unanimous the advice had been.  His new city’s subreddit was a dumpster fire of angry yelp reviews and people complaining about their neighbors.  And yet, when he made a post asking people to recommend places for a new resident, everyone told him he needed to check out Friday’s Gym.  “Even if you’ve never made exercise a priority before, you should check this place out.”  To their credit, it did seem like a really nice gym-- there was an attached spa-like area with massage chairs and tanning beds, and free headphones for the regulars.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there,” Wyatt said, as he accidentally bumped into a guy wearing a red tank top.  The man said nothing in response.  “Hey, are you using this bench?  I don’t really feel comfortable using those machines yet.”  The man made no reply.  Wyatt walked around the loose weights at his feet to stand in front of him, but the man in the red tank top did not even blink.  He continued to stare at a point off in the distance, with no concern for anything around him.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.  Wyatt couldn’t help but blush as he did so-- the man’s shoulder was impressively firm, and yet his skin was so soft and well maintained.  It was the exact sort of body he would love to have, but had never wanted to devote the time it would take to earn it.  The man shifted in place, like a large tree rustling in the breeze, but he remained unmoved.  The hairs on the back of his neck started to stand on end.  Was the man braindead, somehow?

“Sir, please don’t jostle the merchandise.”

The staff member graciously allowed Wyatt a few moments to collect his breath, having managed to scare him half to death.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you like that,” he said, with what Wyatt assumed was a cheerful smirk.  “We don’t usually tip our hand until after the tenth visit or so.  But Derrick here went into trance a bit earlier than we expected, and we really don’t like moving the merchandise once the reprogramming starts.”

Wyatt’s gaze shifted back and forth between the two muscular men.  “You keep referring to him as merchandise.  Do you normally treat your customers like they’re objects and not people?” he said, crossing his arms in irritation.

“I do when they’re wearing our special headphones,” he said, with a hearty chuckle.  Whatever reaction Wyatt had been expecting from the bare-chested staff member, it certainly wasn’t that.  “It’s not your tenth visit yet, but we might as well give you the full tour,” he said, dropping the bands down on the nearest weight bench.  “Follow me into the back, if you would-- we’ll walk and talk.  Here at Friday’s, we pride ourselves in being the gym for the everyday people.  I’m sure you heard that during the initial orientation.  What you did not hear is that anytime we get a hulking beast like Derrick here-- not just someone who has a jock’s physique, mind you, but someone who is truly a massive asshole-- we take it upon ourselves to... intervene.  My current body, for instance-- Frank used to be a racist ass destined to work whatever manual labor job hadn’t fired him yet.  With me in control, he’s the daytime manager of a successful gym, and we’re working on getting a second location opened.”

“Or how about Mathias over there?  No one misses the old, homophobic version.  But the new one, who came out of the closet and owns the jewelry store downtown?  Now that’s a man who’s contributing to society.  Looks great in cardigans, too”  Frank opened the Employees Only door and gestured Wyatt inside.

Wyatt glanced around the break room, which was half consumed by wires, tubing, and a pair of helmets which presumably assisted with the body swap process.  “So, what happens your old bodies?  I feel like the police would notice pretty quickly if a bunch of missing person all happened to have memberships to the same gym.”

Frank gave him another hearty chuckle.  “I suspect you’re right, yes.  That’s what the headphones are used for-- it makes them pliable for reprogramming.  The old Frank is currently inside of my body, living my life... but he has no memory of his past life, and he has no memory of this gym’s existence.  If you decide to take over someone else’s body, it would be the same for you.  Assuming you want to go through with it,” he added.  “For all we know, you’re perfectly happy with your current life.”

It was Wyatt’s turn to laugh.  “I’m not.  If I’m gonna be stuck in a minimum wage rut, at least I can be stuck in a rut while I have some sick abs.  So... you’re not turning me into Derrick, are you?”

“I am not,” Frank said, shaking his head.  “Derrick’s already been spoken for by someone else.  That said, we will happily put you on the waiting list.  It would be two to six weeks, depending on how susceptible your new body is to our reprogramming.  What do you think about Peter, here?”

One look at the broad-shouldered beauty, and he was already starting to daydream about life in the man’s body.  Wyatt couldn’t help but to match Frank’s sincere smile.  “I think he’s the exact sort of high quality merchandise I would like to own for myself.”

[ariadnelives]

Dokkaebi Fire - A Short Story

Author's Note: The bulk of this story takes place during the events of "Force Majeure," directly between chapters 8 and 9, during the crew's time in hiding in Xiagu. It is not intended to be read in sequence. If you'd like to catch up on the series so far, you can do so on ao3 or tumblr.

“Cookie?” Pilar called into the flat as she entered, not waiting to be let in. “It's me today. Ariadne's making final preparations for her surgery tomorrow, but she'll be by as soon as she's back on her feet.”

Aoibheann sat on the armchair in the living room, pointed at the television which appeared to be carrying a local news broadcast from one of Saturn's other moons. She had a blanket draped over her lap, and she watched the news broadcast idly, taking in none of it.

“Remember, starting tomorrow, Ariadne won't remember anything beyond the six-month point in our stay here, and we have to keep it that way, so, be careful what you say around her.” Pilar laughed without joy.

Aoibheann did not.

“You know,” Pilar tacked on, “I'm a complete liar. You could dime out the whole plan and I'm pretty sure me and Ari would absolutely leap for joy as long as it meant you were talking again.”

Aoibheann glanced over at Pilar wistfully, dark circles under her eyes, but said nothing. These little responses indicated their old friend could still hear them in there, that they could get through to her, even if she couldn't muster the strength to respond. She'd barely spoken since they lost the station. She was usually a tightly-wound powder keg, full of fire and passion, and she had to direct it towards her purpose or else she’d explode. Now, it was like all that fire inside her had gone out, and all that was left of her was an exhausted shell of a woman.

She seemed able to move around on her own, but rarely found the motivation to do so. She had grown somewhat thin and gaunt, as she only ate when fed, so every day, Pilar or Ariadne or one of her apprentices would stop by to see her and make sure she ate. Sasha had been spreading herself far too thin on Ariadne's project, but still found time to check in on her and monitor her physical health. Her apprentices had removed all sharp objects, belts, and shoelaces from the premises, but Pilar thought that was overkill. She had known Aoibheann long enough to know she would never physically harm herself. Still, it didn't make it easy to watch her torture herself like this.

Pilar sat next to her, and gently took her hand.

“I hate having to feed you this stuff, Cookie,” she said, opening up a small gray package she'd brought with her. “Replicated MREs. No wonder Baltimore and Beam went to a convenience store twice a week when they were in the army.”

Aoibheann looked with disdain at the lump of meat before her, served with a mush that could only be described as “prepared grain.” She hated eating it as much as Pilar hated serving it to her.

In their small hidden town of Xiagu, all of the food came out of the replicators. Xiagu had a surplus of energy, with its passive solar collection and years of nobody to use the stored power, so nobody was worried about the expenditure of creating food and water from reserves.

Back on the station, they had only managed to earmark power for replicator use two years previously. Like most spacecraft, all of the water fixtures were powered by replicators, generating as much water as needed from a stored bank of energy, which was in turn refilled by a device in the drains which converted waste-water into energy. The food replicator could make prepared meals, but crew members would only be allowed to use it if they could make up the energy cost. This happened pretty naturally, as everybody had to use the bathroom regularly and could credit this to their account, and had the handy benefit of encouraging people to clean up after themselves-- every time you emptied your trash into the energy-reclamation chute, you added replicator energy to your canteen account.

However, back home, most people didn't bother to use the replicators, because truly, Cookie's food was better fresh than anything they could produce, and she loved making it. Here in Xiagu, however, the replicators had nothing but military-grade “Meals Ready to Eat” and raw ingredients programmed into them. When the town was alive, there had been gardens to produce the vegetables, and people to tend them, harvest them, and cook them in the many small restaurants. Now, all that was left was replicators.

Cookie's star apprentice, Yellow, had been put in charge of the replicators while Cookie was indisposed, and had very few requests for anything other than the prepared MREs since they'd been there. Everyone on the crew was required to learn to cook, from Cookie, and nobody particularly felt up to trying to fill her shoes. Everyone had pretty much accepted meals of nondescript lumps of meat, vegetables, and starches on the firm belief that any day now, Cookie would be back on her feet, doing what she loved.

Yellow was the one in charge of food distribution, and had desperately been asking Ariadne to authorize them to reopen Cookie's kitchen, with her at the helm, until Cookie was well enough to resume her post. It's what Cookie would want, she insisted, but Ariadne was taking Cookie's condition unusually poorly, and had refused to allow the kitchen to operate without Cookie present. Yellow was frustrated, but understood. Nobody would feel right about having communal meals like before without Cookie.

Pilar carefully cut up the packaged meal and fed bites to Cookie, who halfheartedly complied with each bite. She offered her a cup of tea, which Cookie held for warmth but wouldn't drink without prompting.

“Look, Aoibheann...” Pilar said, “I know you're not well. I know this has been harder on you than anyone.”

Cookie met her gaze.

“But I don't...” Pilar began, and choked. “I don't think Ariadne will go through with this with you in this condition. She cares about you too much. You know what you mean to her. To me. She's not going to put herself at risk until she knows you're okay.”

Aoibheann looked downcast.

“She needs you,” Pilar whispered. “I need you. Please come back to us.”

****

Aoibheann's mind drifted back to when she’d met Ariadne and Pilar, thirteen years previously. She had been living on the streets for two years and had only passing contact with Pilar. She had been homeless since the Hanguk-Éire massacre, when Susan Weaver’s bombs had incinerated her family’s house and restaurant, left her and her mother destitute, and claimed her father’s life. Her mother had turned to drugs to cope with the loss, and ultimately found herself bleeding out in the gutter after an altercation with a pusher who she couldn’t pay for her latest fix.

She had distrusted the new girl at first. In her experience, another new person living under the overpass was another person who might get to the good scraps before her. She didn’t need any more competition. There was, however, a certain unspoken respect between her and the Aguilar girls. They were the only kids living on the streets of that particular block, and they had to look out for one another. They didn’t talk much, but they had struck up an arrangement. Pilar needed to go foraging to keep Sasha fed, and knowing that she would have to dig through trash bins and steal from loosely-guarded shops to make this happen, she felt it was too dangerous to bring her nine-year-old sister along with her.

So, she struck up an arrangement with Aoibheann: if she kept Sasha safe while she went out on runs, Pilar would try and steal a little extra food so Aoibheann could eat as well. Pilar and Sasha had been squatting in an abandoned house on a nearby side-street, and Aoibheann could crash there in exchange for keeping an eye on Sasha. It was shelter, and food, and it was a better deal than she was getting anywhere else. Under normal circumstances, Aoibheann would’ve developed a mighty crush on Pilar, but crushes were the sorts of things normal girls got to have. Aoibheann needed to focus on staying alive.

The new girl had been Racquel when they met. She had been raving about how the world was going to end, a secret conspiracy to reign atomic hellfire onto the bio-domes. It was the standard fare of the doomsaying lunatic, so nobody paid her much mind, but she’d named Ramos and Ramos specifically in her raving, and that caught Pilar’s attention. Nobody hated the Ramoses like Pilar, although Aoibheann didn’t yet know why.

So, Pilar and Racquel started going out on runs together. Suddenly, they were bringing back more than enough food, not only for the four of them, but they even got to share it with the others under the bridge. One day, they came home clean, wearing fresh clothes, and carrying a bundle of new clothes under their arm. They told her that Racquel’s name was Ariadne now, and that they would be needing her help a lot more often. They’d found some sort of mentor, who would “get them out of here,” but they’d need to spend hours, even days, with her at a time.

Aoibheann wasn’t a fool. She knew that if they succeeded in getting out of here, that she would be left behind. She couldn’t, however, risk being thrown out on the street. She’d watch Sasha and crash on the floor of this abandoned townhouse as long as they’d let her.

Sasha seemed like such a little kid then, although Aoibheann knew on a logical level that she was only three years older.

“If you could be anything in the world when you grow up,” Sasha had asked her one day, while the other girls had been away at their mysterious mentor’s for a few days, “what would you be?”

“I’m just trying to grow up,” Aoibheann said, “if I can make it that far, I’ll see what I can get.”

Sasha scrunched her nose. “You’re not playing the game right.”

“I’m being realistic,” Aoibheann said.

Sasha breezed past this. “I’m going to be a doctor when I grow up.”

Aoibheann considered pointing out that Sasha had a third-grade education and no money, but thought better of it, and instead just sighed. “Well, it’d be a crying shame if you starved to death before then,” she said. “Let’s see what your sister left us.”

Aoibheann looked at the handful of scraps Pilar had left on the table. Pilar had stolen them an entire rotisserie chicken, which Aoibheann had admonished her for-- the abandoned house did not have a working refrigerator, she pointed out, so she’d have to use the meats straightaway or they would quickly spoil and attract flies-- and several cans of diced white potatoes, which Pilar figured would keep Sasha’s stomach full, but Aoibheann pointed out had very little nutritional value. This was, of course, in addition to the six chocolate bars Pilar had, being thirteen years old, been sure to nab on her little excursion.

Aoibheann had nothing in the way of seasonings, except for a variety of salt and pepper packets she’d taken from a loosely-supervised outdoor seating area at a nearby restaurant, as well as, on one extremely lucky day, three sets of cheap silverware and a bottle of hot sauce.

She did, however, have access to a small metal trash can with a lid, water from a neighbor’s hose spigot-- Aoibheann felt bad about this, because water was so tightly regulated on Mars and the owner would surely be steeply charged for the waste, but this was a low priority compared to their survival-- and an old gas stove that the new girl had rigged up to illegally supply them with heat.

Aoibheann had cut the meat off the bones of the rotisserie chicken and plopped the bones into the cold water with all the fat and gristle, and opened up a few of the salt packets into the mixture. She put it on the stove and let it heat up to a boil, then turned down the gas and watched as the mixture turned a translucent yellow. She eventually fished out the bones with her knife, and dumped all the potatoes, and the meat from the chicken, into the broth.

After it had stewed for a while, Aoibheann took a taste. It was thin, watery, and somewhat bland, but it would do for the time being. Using the now-empty potato cans, she scooped out two servings of soup and handed one to Sasha.

“Now, we just have to keep it just hot enough,” Aoibheann said, “and it won’t go bad. We’ll be able to eat this until your sister gets back.”

Sasha took a taste. “It’s…” she had been taught, if she had nothing nice to say, to say nothing at all, so she didn’t finish her sentence. Aoibheann had spent enough time with her to know what she meant.

“It’s a tick bland like this,” Aoibheann shrugged, passing her the hot sauce. “Give it a dash of this, it’ll be a sight better.”

Sasha complied, tasted it, and her face made it clear that while it was in fact a sight better, it still wasn’t quite tasty.

“My mom used to make potatoes with a cheesy sauce,” Sasha said sadly. “They were really spicy. Pilar’s favorite food.”

“My dad was more of a cabbage man,” Aoibheann said. “My mom handled the meats, him the veggies. Hanguk-Éire cuisine is… all about things coming together in the pot.”

Sasha added a little more hot sauce to her soup.

“I wanted to be a cook,” Aoibheann said. “Like my folks, before, all this. My dad was a cook. His dad was a cook. His dad was a cook. And so on and so on, all the way back to our homelands.”

“You could still be a cook,” Sasha said, eyeing her soup. “...someday.”

“Well, we’ll have to get your sister to scrounge us up some quality ingredients, then, won’t we?” Aoibheann said.

The two of them finished their soup, and Aoibheann noted that it was getting late, and insisted that Sasha go to bed. Sasha refused without a story, and Aoibheann tossed back a “tough titties” which was met with an infuriatingly irresistible pout.

“FINE,” Aoibheann groaned, and improvised a story.

“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom,” Aoibheann began. This was how all her stories began, they all took place in this kingdom. “The kingdom, you see, had been through every horror you could put a kingdom through. It had been invaded. It had been burned. It had been taken over and torn in half and put back together again more times than you could count. Every evil overlord you could name had taken the place over, at one time or another. So the people in the kingdom, they were always sad, and they started to wonder, would they ever be free? And then, one day, they found out, there was another kingdom, just like them, halfway round the world, and they decided to join forces. But then, after a few decades of unity and prosperity, the entire world fell into darkness, and the people of the two kingdoms had to run. They ran far away, and found a new promised land in the desert, and built a home there.”

“Then, one day, in the new kingdom, there was a little girl who lived in a little house with her ma’ and her da’, and she loved her life. The dark creature from the old world, it caught up with them. It took her da’, and burned down her house, and she and her mother had to go out into the woods.”

Sasha looked scared. “The woods?”

“Aye,” Aoibheann said, “and her mother dear didn’t last long. There were these flares of Dokkaebi Fire, the goblin lights, and mother dear thought surely she could follow them to safety… Pretty soon, the little girl was all on her own.”

“I don’t like this story,” Sasha said, trying not to betray how frightened she was.

Aoibheann sighed. “Neither do I. But see, the story has a happy ending.”

“Happy?” Sasha asked.

“Happy enough,” Aoibheann replied, “for now. See, the little girl knew not to follow the goblin lights. She ran into the dark, and there she found… a brave, dashing adventurer. A gorgeous girl, noble and good, who’d been lost in the woods herself.”

Sasha’s eyes brightened at this. “Did she have a sword?”

“A little one, aye,” Aoibheann laughed. “And she was on a quest, to find a way out of the woods. But the problem was, she had to look after a sweet, wee little baby, and couldn’t leave it long enough to make any real progress. So the little girl, she’d faced all the darkness in the world. She could handle a wee little baby! She agreed to take care of the baby while the adventurer looked for a way to save herself and the little one.”

“Did she find a way out?”

“Someday she will,” Aoibheann said, “but all she found so far was… a sorceress.”

“This story has everything,” Sasha said.

“The sorceress was as beautiful as the adventurer, and sharp as a tack, but she was untrained. Powerful magic, but she didn’t know how to use it.” Aoibheann explained, “so, together, they managed to track down the Baba Yaga, a wise but crafty old witch, who could teach the sorceress and adventurer how to find the way.”

“And the little girl?” Sasha asked.

Aoibheann thought about this. “The little girl gets to spend time with the sorceress, and the adventurer, and that sweet wee little baby,” she said, “and she appreciates the time she has with them. Someday, they’ll find their way out, and she’ll still be in the woods, but she’ll always be glad to have met them. The end.”

Sasha crinkled her nose. “That’s a bad ending,” Sasha said bluntly. “The little girl should just leave the woods with them. Then find the creature that took her house, and kill it.”

“And how’s she gonna do that?” Aoibheann laughed.

“The adventurer and the sorceress will help her!” Sasha said. “Maybe the Baby Yaga can tell her some spells!”

“Baba Yaga,” Aoibheann corrected. “Okay, so say she does. Say she tells the adventurer and the sorceress everything that happened, and they go slay the evil creature. What happens next?”

Sasha thought about this. “Maybe they fight another creature,” she said. “An octopus?”

“Why are they fighting an octopus?” Aoibheann asked, still chuckling.

“It’s guarding a treasure,” Sasha said as though it were the most obvious thing in the universe. “You have heard a story before, right?”

“Fair enough,” Aoibheann said. “And then, say, they beat all the creatures. What then?”

“Happily ever after,” Sasha said triumphantly.

“Well, you’re a sight more deft at this than I am,” Aoibheann said. “Let’s get you to sleep, I’ll do better next time.”

Aoibheann swaddled Sasha in the dirty, tattered blanket that they’d found a few weeks earlier, sat out in the hallway, and began to cry.

In the present day, Aoibheann thought back to her sobbing in the hallway. At the time, she was convinced that Ariadne and Pilar would surely abandon her when they finished training with Blue. When they started building their first spacecraft in an alley under the bridge, she’d defended it from thieves and scrappers at knifepoint, even thinking that they would use it to leave her behind. When, against all odds, Ariadne had built a spaceworthy craft, she was stunned into silence when they invited her along.

“Don’t be dumb,” Pilar had said, extending a hand to her “of course we’re taking you with us. We started this crew to keep Sasha fed. How are we gonna do that without a cook?”

And so, Cookie had been born. As the goblin lights lit the way to ruin, Pilar’s hand pulled her onto the right path.

****

Now, Pilar’s hand was busy cutting up bites of nondescript meat and placing them into Aoibheann’s mouth.

“Do you remember… back in our street urchin days,” Pilar asked, “Me and Ariadne would come home from Blue’s, put Sasha to bed, and then you, me, and her would stay up late gossiping. We’d show you all the cool stuff Blue had taught us in our lessons, and you’d take the ingredients we’d stolen for you-- better ones, after you started giving me lists-- and you’d teach us how to cook like you.”

Aoibheann almost smiled, and Pilar saw it.

“Alright, you’re right,” Pilar said, cutting her another bite and placing it in her mouth. “Nobody can cook like you. Don’t let it go to your head. But you taught us to cook better than most people.”

Aoibheann accepted another bite wordlessly.

“You know, Ariadne used to use Blue’s tricks to fix up that abandoned house, Alan’s house, and I used to show you all the martial arts tricks, and you’d be rapt with attention,” Pilar said. “When me and Ari started dating, we had a friendly debate about it. See, I thought you had a crush on her, and she thought you had a crush on me. Joke’s on us, turns out you were more than capable of having both.”

Aoibheann came close to smiling again.

“Funny, that’s a fond memory now. Back then, it was the worst year of our life,” Pilar said. “Wonder what we’ll remember fondly from now, when we’re older.”

Aoibheann’s fractional smile faded away. She couldn’t imagine anything worth cherishing from this time. But then, she couldn’t back then, either.

“And we don’t have to talk about…” Pilar cut herself off. “I mean, the… what we’ve had together… The unspoken closeness between the three of us. Rare as it might be that we’ve acted on it, it’s still special to me. To us.The problem has never been that we don’t feel about you, the way you feel about us. If you wanted... what’s between the three of us... to be more, it’d be yours in a heartbeat.”

Aoibheann looked down at her lap.

“We’ve always loved you, Cookie,” she explained. “And don’t get twisted up on the definitions. Every sense of the word. Whatever you’re thinking I surely can’t mean… I mean it. I don’t know what’s going on in your head. I just hate to think that… I mean… we’re going into the most dangerous time we’ve ever faced. If something happens, to me or to Ari… I just want to know you know what you mean to us. To me.”

Pilar gave her another bite, and Aoibheann didn’t fight her on it.

“Do you remember our wedding?” Pilar asked, and laughed. “Of course you do. Hard to forget something like that. Do you remember how angry you were that we wouldn’t let you cook us a grand feast?”

There was a spark in her eyes that demonstrated that she had not, in fact, entirely let this go.

“We stole the supplies for hamburgers from a local grocery store, and made Beam cook them,” Pilar said. “We actually almost got caught, pulled over for speeding on the way home. Ariadne told the cop her name was Ariadne Baltimore. Small town, local cops, everybody knew their parents, they figured they’d just miscounted the sisters, and let her go. Idiots.”

Pilar sighed.

“You weren’t allowed to cook because Ariadne needed you by her side,” she explained. “You were her maid of honor for a reason, Cookie. Our crew, our marriage, our family… where would we be without you? Would we even be us?”

Pilar offered Aoibheann another bite, and she didn’t take it. Pilar looked concerned. She hadn’t eaten nearly enough to be satisfied yet.

“What is it?” Pilar asked.

Aoibheann opened her mouth, thought hard, her eyes darting back and forth as though she was trying to make sense of something she couldn’t put words to.

“Aoibheann, are you… are you alright?” Pilar asked. “Should I get Sasha?”

Aoibheann shook her head vigorously. She had been lost in her depression for months, wondering if she was really better off waking up in the morning, but suddenly, the floodgates had come open, and she couldn’t wait one more second to let out what had been eating at her and destroying her soul ever since they’d lost the station.

Her voice was dry and raspy. She had not spoken more than two consecutive words in weeks, and her body vehemently protested the sudden change in this policy.

“Was it my fault?” She asked, thinking back to a conversation she'd had with their tormentor years ago. “Did I do this to us?”

****

“Excellent work today, everyone,” Cookie’s voice boomed through the kitchen. “The festivities went off without a hitch. This is an anniversary our captain won’t soon forget.”

“Thank you, Chef,” her crew echoed back.

“Dismissed,” she said to the assembled kitchen staff, and then quietly approached one of the greener pirates who’d recently started the galley rotation that was mandatory for the whole crew. “Libby, a word?”

Cookie ushered Libby into a small room at the back, which she used for prep when she was working on more intimate, personal projects. This was the room where she prepared birthday meals for Spacebreather, Ariadne, and Sasha. This was the table on which she’d painstakingly crafted Ariadne and Pilar’s wedding cake. The small walk-in freezer was the one where she’d had a brief, clumsy tryst with Blue on a rare visit to the station, after Cookie had enraged her by challenging her to a contest to see who could make a better mole negro oaxaqueño sauce, and then winning it.

Libby had been invited into the inner sanctum, and the look on Cookie’s face made it absolutely clear that it was not an honor.She was in deep trouble. Worse still, there was a salt shaker on the table in front of her.

“Do you think this is funny, lass?” Cookie asked. “Is this a fun game to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chef,” Libby said, actually looking somewhat convincing.

“The cap of the salt shaker was unscrewed. One shake, and dinner would’ve been ruined.” Cookie said. “It was your responsibility to set the table in the captain’s quarters.”

Libby got immediately defensive. “Anybody could’ve done that,” she said, “I didn’t do it, it’s totally unfair that you--”

“Anybody could’ve,” Cookie said. “But I gave you a responsibility. You were responsible for the Captain’s table. You signed off on a table with an unscrewed salt shaker on it. That makes you responsible for the salt shaker, whether you placed it there or not.”

“How is that fair?” Libby replied indignantly.

“Lass, why do you think Ariadne requires all crew to complete a rotation in my kitchen before they’re cleared for field service?” Cookie asked.

“She needs someone to cook for her?” Libby asked derisively.

Cookie sneered. She did not care for Libby, and never had. The girl seemed to attract drama. How, she wondered, could someone with so few friends be so perpetually in the middle of a falling out with a group of them? “And why do you think my standards are so meticulous?” Cookie asked.

Libby declined to answer, because she knew her honest answer would get her in trouble, but her face betrayed what she wanted to say: “Because you’re a huge bitch?”

Cookie answered her own rhetorical questions. “The skills you need to be successful in here, will be invaluable to you out there. You didn’t go over your loadout with a fine-toothed comb. You didn’t take the responsibilities you were trusted with seriously. You allowed your crewmates to operate with faulty equipment, that, had I not intervened, would’ve caused the mission objective to fail.”

“To be clear,” Libby said, “the ‘mission’ was serving them dinner.”

“IN HERE IT’S DINNER,” Cookie bellowed, her eyes full of all the rage and fire that she kept tamped down in her heart every second of every day, and slammed her fists on the table, knocking down the salt shaker. The chrome lid clattered off, and salt spilled onto the teak countertop. Cookie wordlessly grabbed a pinch of it and tossed it over her left shoulder. “In here, you fail in your duties and it means dinner isn’t very good that night. Out there, you fail in your duties and your sisters in arms die. That’s why Ariadne makes you work with me before you’re allowed to work for her. You can’t be trusted to handle the stakes out there if your team, and your commanding officer, can’t even trust you to do your job correctly when the stakes are only whether tonight’s chicken will be a little dry. Is that crystal clear?”

Libby looked as though she was about to protest, or accuse Cookie of being melodramatic, but Cookie cut her off. “Think very carefully about what you say next,” she said, “and if you’re lost as to what answer I’m looking for...” She pointed at the band that she kept tied around her head, so that even if one of her brilliant red hairs slipped out of its tight bun, it would still not fall into her face. It was white, and said, in bold black text, “YES CHEF.”

Libby grumbled. “Yes, chef,” she said. “next time, I’ll check the table settings more carefully.”

“Glad to hear it,” Cookie said. “But I think it’s important that you know… I know you put the shaker on the table.”

“What?!” Libby snapped.

“If the Captain, or her first mate, were to be poisoned, I would need to be able to verify who’d done the deed.” Cookie said. “Every step of my meal preparation is accounted for. There is a record of every action taken in this kitchen, cupboard-to-table. If something goes wrong with a meal, within seconds I will be able to identify the point of failure and exactly who was responsible for preventing it. Of course, it helps to have a private video feed into the captain’s quarters.”

Cookie tossed her communications device onto the table, and hit play. It projected a small, but surprisingly clear, hologram of Libby setting the table, smirking as though struck with an idea, and unscrewing the cap of the salt shaker.

“You have… a security camera… in their quarters?!” Libby asked.

“I’m the only person in the system they trust with it,” Cookie said. “I trust them with my life, and they trust me with theirs. Now, I gave you a chance to confess to your little prank, and you decided to lie, to pass the buck onto someone else. I’m afraid I can’t let that slide. I’ll have to fail you for this rotation. Come back at the start of the next one and you can reapply.”

“What?!” Libby snapped again. “I’m two days away from finishing! I have to start my galley rotation over again just because you caught me playing a harmless prank on your little pervy peep-show?”

“Call it pervy if you like,” Cookie said dismissively. “The nature of my relationship with the captain and her first mate is enthusiastically sanctioned and is, frankly, none of your concern. The behavior you showed in here, would’ve only spoiled Captain Ariadne’s dinner. If you showed the same level of carelessness and irreverence out there, it might’ve gotten someone killed. ‘Harmless’ indeed. You’re not responsible enough for field work until you can prove you can handle kitchen duty.”

“This is bullshit,” Libby said, gathering up her things to storm out of the room. “Like it even matters whether that bitch’s little dinner is ruined.”

Cookie slammed her fists on the counter again.

“Captain Ariadne is the greatest woman who ever lived,” Cookie growled, “and if I hear you speak of her like that in my presence again, you’ll lose a hell of a lot more than your galley rotation.”

Libby moved to storm out, but Cookie rushed the door and held it shut.

“Now, you listen to me, you little twerp,” Cookie said, jabbing a finger into Libby’s chest, shaking with anger. “That woman pulled me out of the gutter-- pulled all of us out of the gutter. There is nothing more important than the work she does, and we are the beating heart that allows her to do it. So if you want to be a part of this crew, you’ll show her some goddamned respect and start taking your work fucking seriously.”

Libby looked furious.

“What do I want to hear?” Cookie asked pointedly.

Pilar was astonished. “You think… because you were hard on the Nameless in her galley rotation… that she went totally off the rails, tried to kill us, and drove us out of our home?”

“Yes, chef,” Libby grumbled after a beat, and Cookie allowed her to pass.

****

“She tried to say we were like a cult,” Cookie said weakly. “That we were just minions blindly following Ariadne’s orders. That we turned against anybody who didn’t fall in line.”

“Is any of that true?” Pilar asked rhetorically. “Does the crew actually act like that?”

Cookie let the tears come. “I do,” she said. “What if she… how do I know she isn’t holding my devotion, my zeal, against the entire crew?”

“You… blindly follow Ariadne’s orders?” Pilar asked, entirely rhetorically. “That’s a surprise, I thought you really believed in our mission.”

Cookie was taken aback. “I do!’

Pilar smiled. “There’s some of that fire,” she said. “I’ve missed it. Aoibheann… when is the last time Ariadne actually gave you an order?”

Cookie had to think about this, but came up short.

“Exactly,” Pilar said. “This is what’s been eating you, all this time?”

Aoibheann looked afraid to reply, so she just asked what she’d wanted to ask, ever since they were driven out of their home.

“Do you forgive me?” She asked. “Does she… does she forgive me?”

Pilar looked Aoibheann square in the eyes. “Cookie, you’ve never needed our forgiveness. An insane terrorist attacked our home. There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent that.”

This was not what Aoibheann wanted to hear.

Pilar sighed. “Of course we forgive you, Aoibheann,” she said in a voice that sounded entirely earnest, but using words that betrayed how sarcastic she was being: “for not allowing someone who turned out to be a sexual predator and an actual serial killer tamper with our food and ruin our anniversary. We forgive you for being the most devoted friend we’ve ever had. Because someone else mistreated us, it must’ve been wrong that you treated us right. We will always forgive you for loving us, Aoibheann. You will never lose our forgiveness for that.”

Aoibheann was struck speechless again.

“Don’t go quiet on me,” Pilar said affectionately, “I just got you to talk again! I’ve missed your voice.”

“I appreciate your taking care of me,” Cookie admitted, “while I’ve been… not myself.”

Pilar gently put her hand on Aoibheann’s, and gave it a squeeze, and then told her the most reassuring truth she had.

“The Nameless is a user,” she said. “She wants a bunch of people who act like puppets and put her well-being first. Ariadne spends every second of every day encouraging her crew to think and act for themselves, and to put each other’s well-being above all else. That’s why she thinks Ariadne’s a tyrant. Not because you defended her honor after a sociopath tried to ruin her anniversary and then called her a bitch.”

Aoibheann felt as though she’d just received absolution for something that had been dragging her through the muck for months. How could she not believe Pilar, of all people? She began to cry openly.

“Hey, hey,” Pilar said, “it’s okay! I got you.”

“I’ve let the crew down,” she said, “had them eating this flavorless mush for however many months. I’ll be back at a stove first thing in the morning, don’t you worry--”

Pilar laughed. “Aoibheann… Cookie, I’m glad you’re back but… don’t push yourself too hard, okay? Let your apprentices handle it for a bit. Besides, you haven’t walked by yourself in a pretty long time. It’ll take a bit before you’re seaworthy again, let alone fit to run a kitchen.”

Aoibheann looked downcast. “Well, I’ve spent enough time sitting around like a lump being no good to anybody,” she said indignantly.

“You’re plenty good to us,” Pilar said flatly, “just by being here. We love you, Cookie. You don’t need to… justify your existence by being a devoted servant.”

Aoibheann was uncomfortable with this sentiment, and it showed on her face. This was, after all, how she showed her affection for Ariadne and Pilar. How could she show them her love and devotion without being able to cook for them?

“I don’t know how to…” Cookie began. “Please… Please, just… tell me what to do.”

Pilar sighed. She knew Cookie was far too devoted to her duties to go completely without orders. “She and I will be back in a few hours, for dinner. Let her hear your voice. Tell her you love her, and wish her luck on her procedure. If you have the strength, give her a hug. And, most importantly, just… please, be okay. Be kind to yourself and take all the time you need to get back on your feet. We’ve only got the one Cookie, so take care of her for us, okay?”

Cookie smiled, and squeezed Pilar’s hand back with what little strength she could muster.

Pilar picked up the now-empty tray that the MRE had been on. “Now that you’re back, do I have your permission to start up the kitchens? Let your apprentices do some real cooking?”

Cookie nodded her head.

“Then I guess this is truly an event worth of celebration: you’ve had your last Meal-Ready-To-Eat,” Pilar laughed. “I’ll see you tonight, Cookie. I want to put some meat back on your bones, so I’ll be cooking, and I expect you to be looking over my shoulder and barking orders at me the whole time.”

Cookie looked at her and smiled, and Pilar’s heart melted. It had been a long time since anyone had seen that.

****

Cookie’s apprentices stood in a straight line at the back of the Hotpot Spot, an abandoned restaurant that Sweettalk had identified as her childhood favorite. Cookie, wearing the chef’s coat she’d fled the station in, freshly laundered, and her trademark “YES CHEF” headband, limped into the restaurant, supported by a cane that Sweettalk had fished out of her childhood home, and said had belonged to her grandfather.

Cookie was still not back to full strength, but her apprentices could see the fire they’d come to fear and love had returned to her eyes.

“As you may have noticed,” Cookie announced, the natural loudness of her voice undiminished by her time indisposed, “I have been… unwell, of late. As such, I am unable to resume my duties at this time.”

Her staff turned to her chief apprentice, Yellow, for guidance. Yellow remained silent, so the rest of them did as well.

“It’s alright, kids,” she said, stamping the cane on the ground loudly. “You don’t have to pretend. I’m not my old self yet. It’s fine. I wouldn’t feel right resuming my post here anyhow. This isn’t my kitchen. I’ve called you all here because you are the apprentices most equipped to run a kitchen of your own.”

Yellow nodded in assent.

“As such, I have a new directive for each of you, until such time as we’ve retrieved my kitchen, and I’m back to my usual vim and vigor, each of you is to select one of the defunct restaurants in this town, take your pick of the remaining staff and any available volunteers, and you will run your kitchens to the standard I have taught you.”

Cookie sighed.

“I know what you all think,” she said. “I know what you’ve said to me, in the past. You think your best is only a pale imitation of my cooking. But I need you all to know that… isn’t true.”

“Chef?” Yellow asked.

“I was the fourth person on this crew, lass,” Cookie said. “The first person to join, after the founding members. At the beginning, we had one mission: Keep Sasha Fed. There is nothing I value more highly than that mission. I live for it, and if I’m blessed with the chance, I will happily die for it. We may have expanded the definition of ‘Sasha’ to include everyone we love, but this mission is and will always be my life’s labor. Food doesn’t just sustain us. It is love, in physical form. The Captain and the First Mate have been very gracious to me, in the time we’ve known each other, by allowing me to show them my love and devotion in the way I’m able to offer. Over the last nine months, they have shown me the devotion was not one-sided, and given me the love I was able to accept. So your mission is, as it always has been: get in the kitchen, and show your love to the crew. Fill their bowls with it, in the way only you can, with or without me. And when your cup is empty…”

Cookie choked up a bit, and did a halfway decent job masking it.

“...When your cup is empty, allow those who love you to fill it back up, until you’re ready to pour from it again.”

After a long, uncomfortable beat, her crew shouted back “Yes, Chef!”

“I have been derelict in my duties,” Cookie said. “I let you go this many months without loving one another properly, because you wouldn’t do it without me.”

“Chef, permission to speak freely?” One of her younger apprentices, a quiet young boy who specialized in pastries, piped up.

“Granted,” Cookie said.

“You never ordered us not to run the kitchens without you. In fact, before…” He paused carefully, then opted to leave it unsaid, “before, you always taught us how to take the lead for the rest of the crew, when you had to cook for the Captain’s table. We wouldn’t run the kitchens without your say-so because…”

“It’s okay, lad, no need to be scared of the likes of me,” she reassured him.

“We were ordered not to,” he told her. “The Captain was very clear: ‘There’s no crew without Cookie.’”

Cookie leaned on her cane and looked a bit sad.

“She couldn’t handle it, Chef,” Yellow explained. “Knowing somebody else was doing your work, while you were suffering the way you were.”

Now Cookie could feel her heart melt. “She said that, did she?”

The young baker boy winced. “She said that there’s nothing more important than the work you do, and that everything the crew does, is just so you can do it,” he said. “She said… well, she said she was derelict in her duty to you, and that she couldn’t replace you until she’d made it right. Until you’d forgiven her for letting you down.”

Cookie laughed. “We’ve known each other a long time, indeed,” she said. “The captain is a sentimental one, I’m afraid. She blames herself for all this. For my condition. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s still more Catholic than she’d like to admit.”

Everyone’s eyes flared at this. Of course none of them would tell her she’d said that, as they all valued keeping their heads attached to their necks too much. Cookie was one of the only people in the system who could get away with saying something like that in front of Ariadne.

“She could never let me down if she tried,” Cookie said, “and even if she did, I will always forgive her. That you can repeat to her. Now, that’s enough prattling on from an old fool. You all have restaurants to open. To work!”

“Yes, Chef!” Her apprentices all shouted, and broke formation to claim their restaurants.

“And remember,” she shouted after them. “If you talk to the Captain, this was her idea!”

She had, in fact, passed her forgiveness along to Ariadne the previous day, before her surgery, and assured her that she didn’t need forgiveness, the same way Pilar had done to her. After her procedure, Ariadne wouldn’t remember Cookie giving her consent to reopen the kitchens, but she was delighted that when she came out of it, she seemingly remembered, on some level, that she had been absolved of all wrongdoing.

She was relieved when, during the fight Alicia staged with her, Ariadne had suggested they put her apprentices to work in the kitchens. Despite being set back several months, she was done punishing herself, and letting everyone else punish themselves with her. It was a do-over many were not fortunate enough to get, and after all she’d lost, Aoibheann was not one to turn her nose up at a second chance.

****

Months later, when all this was over and Sasha’s medicine and a lot of good eating had restored her muscles into mostly proper working order-- she still felt uneasy at times, and preferred to keep the cane on hand, just in case-- they were repatriated to their home, the Nameless had been defeated, and the station had erupted into a celebratory frenzy. Yellow and the kitchen staff had burned the candle at both ends to supply enough party snacks to keep anyone from drowning in all the wine. Two former crew members, Baltimore and Beam, had returned to the station to join in the celebrations. Sweettalk and Sasha had, believing themselves slick, pulled Ghostrunner and her new girlfriend Vigil back to their quarters. Alicia had brought Blue back to the station and, in the haze of wine, loudly announced her intention to start a relationship with her, before disappearing back to her own quarters. Cookie and Blue had, despite their past rivalry, a deep, abiding respect for one another, and Blue was one of the few people who was authorized to do as she pleased in the kitchen. Cookie knew firsthand that after Blue’s enthusiastic and athletic lovemaking, she would likely need something to eat, and a bit more wine, so she’d set a bottle of red and a bowl of fresh mozzarella in conspicuous locations in the hopes that she would find them. Cookie was, uncharacteristically, not in the kitchen that night.

If she had learned anything from the past year, it was that she had to sometimes set the weight of the world down, and allow the people she loved to take care of her as much as she took care of them. So, as had become tradition, once per month, she would retire to the Captain’s quarters instead of her own, and allow her friends to show them how much they loved her. Pilar spent the day marinating meats, just the way Cookie had taught her, and Ariadne had built a heating element into her personal dining table so that Pilar could cook them some of Cookie’s favorite foods.

They would then retire to the bedroom for a night of passion-- Ariadne always had some new device she’d built and wanted to show off. Being married to Spacebreather, she was in the unfortunate position of being a bit of a pillow princess, but not on pillow principle, and so never had anyone else to use it on, and Cookie was the only person other than Ariadne who Spacebreather was willing to touch. They would spend this time laughing, and experimenting, and making sure not an inch of her, or the captain, went unkissed, and then they would fall asleep in each other’s arms, all the while gossiping and reminiscing the way they had back on Mars.

Sometimes, on these nights, Cookie would think back to what Spacebreather said to her, during her episode, about how if she ever wanted something more between them, she could have it.

The thing was, she didn’t want something more. She treasured these nights they had together, but as far as she was concerned, nothing had changed about what they were to her. They were her best friends, and they were her calling in life. She would, to the best of her ability, serve their mission with almost religious zeal. Even unto her death, she would prioritize keeping her loved ones happy and healthy. She had already loved them, more, she believed, than she could ever love anyone else, even when they had started an exclusive relationship with one another, and she was just a heartbroken teenager pining after them both. How could she want something more, when she couldn’t even imagine something better than what she already had?

The first time the three of them had ever fallen into bed together, years after Ariadne and Pilar had made it clear they were soulmates, they had been a ball of teenage hormones, propelled by a raunchy party game that had gotten a bit out of hand. Aoibheann had awoken mortified and furious at herself for daring to succumb to her own desires like this. Her whole life, whenever she’d allowed herself to love something, it was taken away, and that only when she accepted that something was beyond her grasp, would she stand a chance of being lucky enough to attain it. She was sure that by admitting to her wants, and acting on them, she had ruined everything. Except, Ariadne and Pilar noticed her embarrassment and simply chose to behave as though nothing had changed. It had happened only occasionally in the past, and each time, Ariadne and Pilar would wait for Cookie to bring it up. Otherwise, it was completely unspoken.

The one crucial difference was, now, Aoibheann “Cookie” Gyeong, once the saddest girl on Mars, had finally accepted that it was okay to want, and to act on those wants, that this was not following the goblin lights to her death as her mother had. She, who loved her life so much that she shut down for the better part of a year when she feared it had changed irreparably, spent most of her time refusing to acknowledge what she loved about it. She did her job, showed her love, and asked for nothing in return except for the ability to keep doing it.

“You know,” Ariadne said, running her fingers through Aoibheann’s long, smooth, bright red hair, as a sleeping Pilar cradled them both in her arms, “we don’t do any of this for you. We do it because we like doing it. It’s fun for us.”

Cookie laughed. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” she quipped.

Ariadne smiled, and told her something she’d waited years to be sure Cookie would be ready to hear. “Thank you,” she said, “for being my friend. For loving me. For making what we do worth it.”

Aoibheann shot a smile right back. “I could say the same to you.”

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Ride Home

Snowboarder!Bucky x fem!skiier!reader

Note: I was watching my friend being taught to snowboard and thought of this. Gif is not mine

Warnings: none?

Bucky plopped down into a snowbank unceremoniously and started to undo the strap attaching his back foot to his snowboard. Steve and Sam had gone off to run some black diamonds, but he never had quite felt confident on his other side after the incident that left him with a prosthetic arm. Not that he didn’t trust it, but he had swapped sides for everything, writing, punching, even shooting. He was snapped out of his own shame spiral by a man, wearing a set of rather expensive and new looking gear, swearing at the woman who appeared to be trying to teach him. 

“When you said skiing I didn’t think you meant full fucking mountain day. I thought we’d get some drinks, hang out. This is fucking rediculous and these skis and fucking trash.” 

“You said you knew how! I thought this was-“

“I said I had been before, I thought at least you’d fucking be nice about it. May-“

“Just go get a drink then!” You sounded exasperated and Bucky took a closer look, noting the well loved outfit and skis. Clearly they had been used and were being cared for as such. 

“Aren’t you at least going to come?” It sounded more like a command to Bucky than a suggestion. 

“No, I’m going to ski, which is what I paid for a pass to do. I’ll come meet you later.” 

“Yeah well… don’t drink. You’re going to have to drive us back to the city.” The man stumbled away and you sighed, rubbing your forehead before kicking into your own skis and heading for the lift. Bucky cursed to himself after you had started moving and pushed his way up right behind you in the singles line. There weren’t a whole load of people waiting for the lift, it was getting towards lunch time, and he managed to get up beside just you on the lift. 

You glanced over at the snowboarder who decided he had to get on that chair with you, despite the mostly empty line behind you. He had all black gear with a crisp white jacket that had clearly been mended and bleached a few places. He rode goofy and his board knocked up against the edge of your skis when the chair rejoined the cable. 

“I heard that guy being an asshole back there. Sorry you had to deal with the shitty part of the male species.” The somberness with which he said it made you laugh a little. 

“Thanks he was, uh, a set up kinda. I’m new to town, and my parents decided the best way for me to make friends was to go out with one of their college friends’ sons. This is technically our third date and… wow I am spilling info on a stranger. Sorry.”

“No no, he sounds like he sucks. I heard you say he said he knew how.” 

“Yeah! He did! And I even asked before we came out here. Clearly he bought that whole… whole getup to impress me. It was so stupid.” You were waving your hands emphatically and Bucky couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, all I will say is that guys like that don’t actually know how to do anything.” Silence lapsed as you started getting closer to the end of the lift. 

“Uh, how would you want to ride with me and my friends today? Or ski I guess. I’m getting my footing back after an accident, but they’re pretty good and I’m sure they would love to have more friends.” You shrugged, hoping the cold air disguised the blush on your cheeks. Bucky had pulled up his goggles and pushed down his mask on the ride under the pretense of speaking more clearly, but you could tell he was handsome and right now was not the time to blow it. 

“I’d love to ride with you for a while. It’s my first time out this season and I could use an easy day.” He smiled and you both made your way off the lift. Your first run down you could tell that he was good, but kept holding back when he turned to his toe side. It was strange to watch since he seemed to favor it otherwise when he moved before. You told him as much at the end of the run. 

“Yeah, I…” Your conversation was halted as you got back on the lift. 

“I, uh, lost my arm kind of recently and I have a fantastic prosthetic, but still just… cautious.” You couldn’t help but let the shock show on your face. His motions seemed entirely unbothered aside from his anxiety about falling. 

“You look like you’re doing great. I don’t know you all that well but based on that run I feel like you shouldn’t be doing the easiest trail on the hill.” He laughed and you began an amazing afternoon riding, and convincing him to go up to some blue slopes where you spotted some of his friends, who waved but quickly surpassed the slow loping runs you were taking.

“Fuck, I do not want to ruin this amazing day with a car ride home with Dan.” 

“Dan?” Bucky asked. It was getting late in the day and his legs were sore, but he was having too good of a time. During a short break at one of the stops on the mountain he’d finally gotten a look at your face aside from your nose and the strands that were collecting snow beside your goggles. He hadn’t been able to stop picturing your face at every other event in his life since then. 

“The guy I was with this morning. The asshole.” He’d basically forgotten about the existence of the other man after spending the day with you. 

“Well, if you’re not totally opposed to riding a few more hours with a no longer stranger, I would be okay driving you back.” He watched your gears turning, deciding. 

“It would kinda be a massive fuck you to him if he had to sober up and drive home down this mountain alone.” 

“Oh shit, do you think he woul-“

“No, I have the keys. He doesn’t seem bright enough to check the car for keys himself though. You sure you don’t mind?” Mind? Bucky thought to himself, he wanted nothing more than to spend more time with you. 

“Not at all.” You finished the next run, a harder one which Bucky took flawlessly, and dropped the keys off at a nice looking car, grabbing your bag, before you followed Bucky back to a slightly beat looking older SUV. 

“I told Steve and Sam I would drop them down at Sam’s car. They’ll be here in a few minutes. What’s your address?” You dictated it to him, omitting the exact number or unit so you weren’t completely risking yourself. To be totally fair he didn’t have your full name or know all that much about you, yet. 

“And maybe my phone number…in case I forget something? Or in case you want a riding buddy again?” A sweet smile crossed Bucky’s face, blue eyes shining. 

“Sure.” You exchanged numbers and by the time you’d taken a goofy picture of him as a contact photo, his friends arrived. They didn’t comment on your position in the passenger seat. 

“So, where do you live?” You told them where about in the city and Sam opened his mouth to commend, but received an icy blue look from Bucky. You couldn’t help but wonder what else that icy blue stare could be for, but tucked the thought away for another time by yourself. 

“That’s mine. Thanks Buck, have a good drive…” Steve cuffed him on the shoulder on the way out.

“What was that about?” 

“Nothing.” You ended up talking for nearly the entire ride, and it was easy conversation. He told you about the snowboarding accident that had resulted in his lost arm, his job, his dog, Alpine. You told him about your roommate, your hometown, and how excited you were to have a fresh start after the absolute shitshow of your old job and friends.

“Where do you live?” The question was entirely for your own benefit, so you could find out how realistic ‘accidentally’ running into him at a store could be.

“I uh…” Bucky’s cheeks turned red when he told you. 

“WHAT? Bucky, that’s like an hour and a half the other way! Are you insane?” You were near your place already, and there was no use arguing with him that you getting out now to try to get another ride made no sense. 

“I just wanted to spend some more time with you. It was such a great day.” You smiled, blushing as you gave him the final directions to your building. 

“It really was a great day.” He stopped in front of your place, idling as you sat in a few more moments of silence. 

“Maybe we could have another great day? Skiing or maybe dinner?” You felt a little forward asking. 

“Well given there’s no natural way for me to accidentally run into you at the corner store, I guess that sounds like a great plan.”

[penny00dreadful]

Return of the King - Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

So... Remember that bit about the shed? It's happening here so...🫣

They decided to wait. 

Both Eddie and Steve knew that any blood drinking that happened in the house while the kids were around would cause a whole other kind of trauma for them.

The ‘overhearing their parents having sex’ kind of trauma was not something they could, in good conscience, subject them to.

Even if the two of them really, really, wanted to do it right then, right there, at that moment. 

Eddie managed to find the thinnest thread of self control, pulling himself out of Steve’s lap and giving themselves a good five minutes of standing on opposite sides of the room trying to calm down so they didn’t blind any innocent eyes (and Robin) when they went back out to join them.

The kids were, as usual, fucking relentless with their questions. They wanted to know exactly what had been discussed, why they weren’t being filled in on all the details and why Steve couldn’t just drink right now.

Eddie had to hide his grin behind his hair when he caught sight of Hopper’s slightly green face as he asked “You two definitely know what you’re doing, right?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Steve and Eddie agreed even though they definitely did not but no one needed to know that. 

Nancy was glancing in between the two of them with that investigative glint in her eye and Eddie couldn’t decide if she was trying to figure out how the blood drinking would work or if she was picking up on the bright neon signs of attraction hanging over both Steve and Eddie’s heads for the entire day.

Steve, ever the expert babysitter, was able to distract the kids from their questions pretty effectively by asking if they wanted to have one of their old fashioned movie night sleepovers which they all readily agreed to.

Eddie had never had a big party sleepover at his house bar that one instance that healed nothing in them. After that he'd only had one or two over at a time, mainly to keep a close watch on them, but never everyone all at once and never with so much life.

His house was not as well equipped for it as Steve’s had been, he and Wayne didn’t have Narnia level linen closets full of spare blankets and pillows, they didn’t have the amount of floor space or the expansive bedrooms. But what they did have was a pull out couch, air mattresses and two adults who were still deep enough in their guilt to offer to drive out to Steve’s place to pick up those aforementioned blankets and pillows.

When Hopper and Joyce arrived back they let everyone know that they were going to respectfully bow out. They wanted all the kids to have a chance to relax with each other without feeling like they were being watched.

And their backs couldn’t handle anything less than a bed at their age which Eddie understood.

Hopper fixed him with a firm look. “This isn’t us forcing our responsibilities on you two again.”

“At least we hope it’s not.” Joyce interjected with a small smile. “We just know that under normal circumstances the kids would be at that age where they wouldn’t want their parents around, putting a damper on things, embarrassing them.” She laughed but Eddie could hear the little bit of heartbreak underneath it. Her babies were growing up.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not the same. It’s not just me anymore, Steve is here too. And Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle… we’re evenly matched six to six. We’ll keep them in line.” Eddie smiled his most charming smile, one that rarely ever worked on parents but seemed to do the trick just fine this time around. “And Wayne will be back soon- oh shit.”

Joyce smiled back at him. “How’re you going to explain the invading force?”

Eddie exhaled heavily. “I dunno. It’ll be fine.”

Wayne was usually easygoing enough. Eddie just hoped that easygoing attitude extended to explaining the resurrected town hero currently sitting on the couch and playing Red Hands against Robin with his eyes closed and Erica's hands over his ears.

“It’ll be fine.” He repeated again.

Joyce just patted him on the shoulder and followed Hopper out to the car.

As it turned out, Wayne took the intrusion of the kids very well. He seemed just as happy as everyone else to see the kids acting as kids again. 

Eddie was even more surprised at just how casual he was when he told him that Steve was alive. Because of course that was the story they were going with. He was going to keep Wayne away from as much of the supernatural fuckery as he could.

So as far as Wayne knew, Steve had been injured and in the commotion and explosion of patients at Hawkins General, had been rushed to a hospital a town over without any ID on him. He’d only recently recovered enough to come back. They’d all thought he was dead.

The one thing that Eddie didn’t like, however, was the look Wayne gave him, something devilish and mischievous as he paced, talking about Steve’s history with the kids.

“What?” Eddie snapped.

“Oh, nothin’”

“Don’t ‘oh, nothin’ me, old man. You’re conspiring. You’re plotting.”

Wayne got to his feet. “I’m doing no such thing.” 

Before Eddie could stop him he had strode the few short steps to the sitting room door, rapping hard on the jamb.

“Harrington. A word.”

“Wayne!” Eddie hissed as the kids all started to singsong oooohhh and Steve’s in trouble from their spots on the floor. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

As Steve stepped into the kitchen his eyes darted nervously between Wayne who was sitting back down at the kitchen table and Eddie who was trying to send death ray signals at his uncle from his pacing spot on the floor.

“Um… yes, Mr. Munson, sir?”

Eddie grimaced internally as Wayne scowled. 

“Am I your commanding officer, boy?”

“Wayne!” Eddie gurgled out towards the ceiling. “Be nice!”

Steve looked both bewildered and so very unsure, like he was in the middle of a viper pit. But at the same time there was a determined tilt to his shoulders. “No. No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. So you’re to stop with that ‘sir’ and ‘Mr. Munson’ crap, do you hear me?” Wayne was ignoring Eddie on purpose and Steve seemed determined to do this without backup so Eddie was stuck watching this interaction from the outside like some nature documentary. He wondered if David Attenborough’s voice was about to start narrating in his ear about a standoff between two predators. 

It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that had happened to him in the last twenty four hours. 

“Alright. No more ‘sir’ and ‘Mr. Munson’ crap from now on, Wayne.”

If Eddie didn’t know his uncle so well he’d have thought that comment had landed terribly. But there was just the slightest lifting at the corner of his mouth, a telltale sign to Eddie that Steve had said the right thing. 

Somehow.

But that was more terrifying than anything else. Because Wayne and Eddie were very similar people. They liked to push. They liked to see how far they could take it. They liked to make people uncomfortable enough to bring their true nature out. 

“Good. Now tell me.”

Wayne leaned forward in his chair maintaining terrifying, all seeing eye contact with Steve, watching him like a hawk for any kind of falter.

“Are you fucking my boy?”

Eddie let out a strangled cry, dragging all of his hair in front of his face. He started spinning in circles, needing to get away from the pure, all encompassing mortification but not wanting to leave the room at the same time. 

Where was the apocalypse when he needed one? Where were the cracks in the earth or the fucking bats or Vecna?

“Yes.”

Traitor! Steve the Betrayer! Turncoat! Deserter! Fucking Judas!

Eddie planted himself face first into the corner by the door, leaning in as heavily as his body would allow. 

This was where he lived now. 

“Mm-hm.” He could hear the nod in Wayne’s voice. “You plan on just fucking him or are you going to be hanging around?”

“Hopefully both. Gonna keep him. Like a stray cat.”

“Steven!” Eddie shouted from his new home.

“You know not to feed him after midnight?”

“Yep.”

“And I’ve found a spray bottle full of water usually helps with the biting.”

“Spray bottle. Got it.”

What the fuck was happening right now? Had he dropped into another alternate reality?

Eddie spun around, pretty sure he was red from embarrassment the whole way down to his fingertips. He only grew even more outraged when he saw the terrible attempt in front of him to hide matching smiles.

No, this couldn’t be happening.

This couldn’t be happening. 

They were bonding. They were ganging up. They were being two little fucks. This was terrible.

“The Brutus to my Ceaser!” Eddie cried. “The Fredo to my Michael! The Benedict Arnold to my all of America!”

Eddie huffed in the most melodramatic fashion he could and stomped off to the sitting room.

"I'm stealing your best friend, Harrington. She's mine now."

He grumbled and muttered his way over to Robin on the couch who was looking up at him slightly bewildered but mostly amused as he planted himself across her lap.

“Ow, Jesus fuck Buckaroo.” He wiggled around. “Why are your thighs so bony?”

“Why is your ass so bony?” She hissed back, wincing and trying to adjust until the two were comfortable.

The kids all watched the exchange wide eyed, like it was the best free entertainment they’d ever gotten.

“You two are gonna give me grey hairs.” Steve frowned, tapping Eddie’s knee with his hand. “C’mon move. Let me in.”

There was enough space left for him on the couch in between the twosome of Robin and Eddie and Erica on the opposite side but apparently that wasn’t good enough for him.

Eddie crossed his arms and glared. “No, I told you. She’s mine now, tough shit.”

“Robin?”

“Sorry.” She shrugged, sliding her arms around his waist and hooking her chin over his shoulder. “His house, his rules.”

Steve released a heavy sigh. “That’s too bad.”

And he began to tip forward.

“Steve?”

“Stevington, don’t you dare!”

“No! Harringt- oof!”

The air was punched out of the two of them as Steve flopped all of his undead jock weight directly down on top of them, keeping his body loose and pliant as they struggled to free themselves.

“You brute!” Eddie could have probably tried harder to extricate himself but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love having Steve’s weight on top of him. Only downside was-

“Evie!” Robin’s strained, punched out exhale came from the bottom of the pile as she shifted around, digging her bony legs in, trying to free herself.

“Ow, ow! Okay.” Eddie tapped him on the arm three times. 

Steve immediately lifted his weight up, hovering over the two of them and suddenly Eddie couldn’t remember why he’d stopped it.

The answer swiftly came as Robin flicked the two of them across the ears. 

“Stop it.” She warned, acting pissed off but her posture was too gentle to really sell it.

The three of them shifted around until they were all situated as comfortably as they could be with Eddie pretty much draped across Robin and Steve, who were both cuddled up together.

“What kind of bizarre three way mating ritual did I just witness?” Max asked from her spot on the floor.

“A pathetic one.” Erica had leaned away over the arm of the couch to avoid the flailing limbs but had now gotten comfortable again.

"Just play the damn movie and stop judging us." Eddie flapped his hand in the direction of the TV.

As the lights were switched off and the movie began, Steve leaned down ever so slightly.

"Wayne's gone up to bed."

Eddie hummed in acknowledgement, still trying to appear pouty but it was a rapidly losing fight in the face of Steve's hand running up and down his back.

"I like him. He's a Lakers fan."

"What the fuck is a 'Lakers'?"

"It's a sportsball team." Robin muttered into his ear.

"Oh." He nodded then paused. "Which sportsball?"

"Baskets."

"Makes sense, I guess." He reached his hand back and grasped Steve's own. "I'm glad you're getting on but I hate what the consequences will be for me."

"We'll go easy on you." Steve squeezed his hand.

"Don't you dare." He muttered, squeezing back.

They made it halfway through the movie. The whole Fellowship was exhausted. A solid month of broken and tear filled sleep caught up to them all. And they felt like they could breathe. They felt like they could relax. So everyone was out like a light. Not even stirring when the soundtrack to the movie kicked into full crescendo, the volume on the tv just a tad too loud. 

It seemed to Eddie like the only person still clinging onto wakefulness was himself. He’d watched over them obsessively for so long it was hard to let go.

He grumbled to himself as he reached for the remote, turning the volume down. He kept the movie playing though. Good background noise. Good noise to occupy his own thoughts.

All the kids minus Erica were in a giant puppy pile on the floor, Erica herself was draped over her side of the couch. Argyle and Jonathan were snoring together on one of the blowup mattresses, Nancy was curled up in the armchair and Steve and Robin were slotted together behind him.

He was still across their laps, Steve’s hand resting on his bare hip where his shirt had ridden up and he really didn’t want to move. He wasn’t exactly comfy but he was content. He had a bed waiting for him upstairs but what would even be the point if he couldn’t grab Steve by the balls and haul him up there with him.

The hand on his hip squeezed and Eddie’s heart started jackhammering immediately.

“Really?” Steve whispered in a low hum. “You’re gonna get riled up just from that?”

Well that tone certainly wasn’t helping circumstances.

“Do not make me horny while I’m lying in Robin’s lap, Steve.”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything. You did that on your own.”

“You’re kidding right?” Eddie tipped his head backward, just enough to glare. Robin’s head was back, her mouth hanging open and she snuffled every so often on a wheezing inhale. Steve was just looking down on him with a quite frankly infuriating smirk. “This is all your fault.”

He was just about able to catch Steve’s eye from his twisted position but Steve wasn't looking at his eyes, he was staring at Eddie’s stretched out neck with a slow splash of yellow swirling in his eyes.

Eddie could feel his body reacting almost immediately and he needed to get out of Robin’s lap, like right now.

“Fuck.” He was able to push himself up to standing, Robin smacking her lips in her sleep. He held his hand out to Steve. “C’mon.”

Steve’s eyes snapped away from his neck, up to meet his gaze slowly melting back to brown. “You’re sure?”

“Stevie baby, I’m so sure. I am so completely 100% sure that if you don’t get up and come with me right now I will go and deal with this,” he gestured down at himself, “on my own and you won’t get to do a thing about it. Might make you watch.”

Steve’s breathing was coming in short and sharp and he was staring up at him with wide blown eyes. “Goddamn it Eddie.” Steve snatched up his hand, expertly unwinding himself from around Robin and letting himself be pulled from the room.

When Steve started moving in the direction of the stairs Eddie shook his head, leading him through the kitchen and out the back door. 

“Don’t want to wake anyone up. And I want you to be loud.”

Steve glanced up, finally seeing where he was being led and stopped short.

“Eddie, we are not having sex in a shed.”

“It’s fine! I practise guitar in there all the time, promise. The boathouse was worse.”

"We didn't have sex in the boathouse either."

Oh, well. 

"Wanna change that?"

"No! It's property that doesn't belong to either of us."

"And? It’s abandoned like half this town. Rick’s fucked off to Florida or somewhere." He pulled Steve in close, lacing their hands together and guiding them around Steve's back before walking him backwards towards the door. "You don't think about that day?" They bumped up against the wood and Eddie leaned in. 

"I think about it all the time.” He dragged his nose up Steve's throat, stopping his lips right where he'd pressed that jagged glass into his neck. “Want to do it again?"

"Eddie." It came out as a pitiful whine and god he was gonna ruin his boy. "You gonna threaten me with a broken bottle again?" Steve was trying to sound petulant but his voice was too breathy.

"Only if you ask nicely."

Eddie could feel his jumping pulse under his lips, as much as a supernaturally slowed down, undead pulse could jump.

Steve thumped his head against the wooden door. "There's gonna be bugs."

"There's no bugs."

There’s definitely bugs.

"There is. I can hear them from here."

Eddie stopped. He hadn't considered that. It sounded irritating as shit. 

"Can you hear them all the time?"

Steve shook his head. "I can kinda zone in or zone out, you know? So it's not that bad."

"Right." He nodded. Then, because he couldn't help himself, because he was a terrible shit down to his bones he said, "So it doesn't bug you?"

Steve's expression collapsed into a deadpan stare. "I can't believe I put my dick in you."

Eddie grinned and tugged the door open. "Don’t worry. I’ll repay the favour."

Sure enough, there was his guitar laid lovingly in her floor stand in one corner of the rickety old shed. The walls had ancient blankets that came with the house haphazardly nailed to the walls to try to keep the sound dampened, a bare swinging lightbulb hanging down in the middle and one of the dining chairs had been dragged in for Eddie to sit in as he played.

It was hardly atmospheric. 

But atmosphere wasn't exactly what he was looking for right now.

As soon as the door closed behind them Eddie had Steve shoved up against it. Not wasting a second he shoved his tongue in past Steve’s lips and snuck his hand up Steve’s infuriating, tight, preppy polo, grabbing a fistful of chest hair and pulling.

“Jesus, Eddie.” Steve said through his grunt of pain, immediately diving back into their messy debauched kiss, grinding his hips forward in a filthy swivel.

“Been waiting,” he grabbed another fistful of Steve’s hair, yanking his head to the side. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that Steve had always been stronger than him. 

But now he was probably stronger than any human on the planet and there was no way he’d have been able to manoeuvre him around like that unless Steve allowed it. And just the thought of that sent fire through him, a wave of power at being able to have control over the beautiful supernatural man in front of him, “to get my mouth on you,” he laved hot, open mouthed and horny kisses across Steve’s jaw and down his neck, “all fucking day.”

Eddie tried to pull the collar of Steve’s polo to the side but it wasn’t enough to get where he wanted.

“Off. Now.” He said, tugging at the hem and watching with hungry eyes as Steve stripped the polo off and his heaving chest came into view.

"Now you." 

Eddie shook his head. "Not yet."

"That's not fair."

"No, it's not." He watched Steve closely, checking to see if this was a boundary he didn't want crossed or if he was into the small bit of power play going on.

Steve had the most adorable little pout on his face but other than that didn’t look unsure or uncomfortable, dragging Eddie back towards him but Eddie ducked his head before he could crash their lips back together again, continuing on his sucking and biting trajectory across Steve’s neck, his collarbone, his shoulder until he sank his teeth down hard into a meaty pec, desperate to leave the shape of his teeth in Steve’s skin.

“Ah! Fuck, Eds. Don’t make me go get the spray bottle.” Steve whined, any hint of authority lost in the breathless way he said it.

Eddie reached down and pulled one of Steve’s legs forward, until it was resting at a slight angle. He shoved Steve’s thigh in between his own legs, grinding down hard and releasing his own winded moan at finally getting some pressure, some friction.

“You’re not leaving this shed until I’m done with you.” He pressed his thumb down onto one pretty pink nipple and swallowed Steve’s groan of pleasure as he rutted down against one of those magnificent thighs.

Steve’s hands were in his back pockets, pushing and pulling him forward and backward and god Eddie could stay here forever.

But he was already closer than he wanted to be right now and he’d be so fucking mad at himself if he came before he could fuck the ever living daylights out of the man in front of him.

Though he was very interested in just how responsive Steve was to having his chest hair and nipples tugged and pulled he needed to switch tactics or this would all be over too soon. 

Reaching down, he made quick work of Steve’s button and zipper, roughly yanking his jeans and boxers down to his knees in one go, dropping himself to the floor along with them.

“Oh my god, Eds.”

Steve had a hand in his hair already and that was good, great even but he really needed to mention the other thing before they got much further.

“I’m not a fan of having my face fucked.” He blurted out, maybe a little more anxious sounding than he meant it to be, running his hands up Steve’s thighs. Steve’s hand immediately gentled, scratching soothing against his scalp.

“Okay, no face fucking. Promise.”

“And my gag reflex leaves something to be desired.”

“Then you don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

“Okay. Okay. You set the pace, I won’t move you. You want me to keep my hand here?” He gave Eddie’s hair the gentlest of tugs.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good.” He took Steve’s length into his hand and gave him a couple of pumps, relishing in the keening little noises he could pull from Steve’s mouth from all the way down on the ground.

“F-for the record. I am a fan.” Steve had thunked his head back against the door again but now looked back down with that terrible teasing look in his eye. “Of having my face fucked. And my gag reflex has been complimented once or twice.”

No. He was not going to come in his pants just from the sight of Steve all cocky and smug above him, telling him how he liked to have his throat railed.

Eddie pressed his forehead against Steve’s bare hip and willed himself to calm down.

“You can't just go around saying things like that, Stevie.”

He pumped Steve a few more times, trying to… get back at him? Regain the upper hand?

Eddie didn't fucking know, but he didn't want to stop.

“Besides, since when have you been roaming around sucking dick, sweetheart?” As though to punctuate his statement he pressed the flat of his tongue against the head of Steve’s cock, closing his lips around it and giving a light suck before pulling off. “If you’d have gone to the usual spots we could have gotten to this a lot sooner.”

“I’ve been on a lot of vacations, baby.” Steve panted at the ceiling, having rolled his head back again. “Been to a lot of major cities. Had a lot of time to myself when I was there.”

Eddie nodded, purposefully brushing his lips against the head, pulling a beautiful debauched moan out of Steve’s throat and causing him to grip onto his own thigh hard.

“Good to know.”

Without warning, Eddie dove down, taking him in as deep as he comfortably could.

The sounds Steve was making above him were music to Eddie’s ears, immediately getting locked away into his spank bank box for the rest of his life.

“Oh god, oh fuck Eds. Your mouth- oh my god.”

Eddie didn’t have an awful lot of experience sucking dick, surprisingly enough, considering how experienced he was in everything else. Apparently, according to one guy, he’d just had that look about him.

Like he might bite it off for fun, a bit of a feral gleam in his eye.

So, y’know, rude.

And guys usually wanted to shove it back as far as they could almost immediately.

Which… no. No. Never again.

But he didn’t have to worry about any of that with Steve. Steve was allowing him to take his time and figure himself and his limits out, all the while staying dutifully still. His fingers had twitched in his hair once or twice but they never tightened and they never pushed. 

“Eds, baby, I’m- I’m close-”

Eddie pulled off. “Not yet.”

The cry Steve let out almost sounded like he was in pain but he was pliant as Eddie helped him step out of his jeans and lead him over to the dining chair.

Eddie sat down and pulled Steve forward to straddle his lap, sitting far enough away so they weren’t pressed close together and no roll of Steve’s hips would bring any friction.

“See that shelf behind me?”

Steve looked up, still trying to catch his breath before exhaling on a laugh. “Well you’re very prepared.” 

He stood, legs spread on either side of the dining chair and reached over Eddie’s shoulder to get the lube and condoms he’d stashed there earlier on in the day. Eddie took his chance to latch his mouth onto one of those lovely nipples he hadn’t got to taste yet.

He bit and sucked and licked and the whole time Steve stayed where he was with his chest pressed up against Eddie’s face letting out little mewls and whines while clearly trying to stop himself from humping against Eddie’s chest.

Eddie took the lube and condoms from Steve’s stalled hand, releasing his nipple with one last lick, looking up at him and shaking the bottle.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, face flushed, chest heaving and mouth open. “Yeah, so okay.”

“You want to do it yourself?”

“No. No, you. Want your…” he swallowed. “Want your hands.”

Eddie grinned, sharp and victorious. “You got ‘em, big boy. Think you’ll be able to stay standing?”

Steve was spread open, legs slightly bent on either side. It must be a little strenuous with the way his legs had been trembling slightly but he was strong. Even before he’d come back from the dead he’d been strong.

“Mm-hm.”

“Okay. Put your hands on my shoulders. Good.”

Steve made a tiny aborted thrust and dug his fingers into Eddie’s skin at the ‘good’ comment and that was certainly something to explore in the next few minutes.

Eddie made quick work of him, alternating pushing a finger in and out, giving little kitten licks across Steve’s chest, his nipples and down his ribs. He brushed up against Steve’s prostate, causing him to jerk forward with a loud shout and he had half a mind to get Steve to make that sound again and again but decided against it. At least he knew where it was now. He added another finger and slowly scissored him open.

“It’s enough. Eds- baby, it’s enough I’m ready.”

“It’s not enough.” He mumbled against some glorious chest hair.

“It is.” Steve was thrusting back with vigour now, trying to fill himself up as much as possible.

“It’s not.” Eddie growled, bumping a third finger inside, a little meanly, a little too soon and pressed down against that bundle of nerves that he’d avoided since he first found them.

Steve screamed again, wiggling around and grinding back, trying to chase his pleasure with little sobs and moans. “Please. Please, Eddie, please!”

Eddie hummed against his skin, removing his fingers completely. “I like it when you beg.”

“Please, Eddie!” Steve whined again, unable to get his voice to do anything else. 

“You’ll get it, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” Eddie shoved his own jeans and boxers down without much care, hissing at the sensation of something finally touching his dick as he rolled the condom on. “Okay, c’mere, baby. Let me fill you up.”

Steve almost sighed as he sank down slowly, until he was full seated, trying to move immediately.

Eddie clamped his hands hard around Steve’s hips, trying to still him, but of course he wasn’t strong enough.

“Stop moving.”

Steve whined again, mostly halting his movements, but not quite.

“Steve.” He snapped. “Be good.”

He stopped immediately, panting with his hands still clenched on Eddie’s shoulders.

Oh yeah.

Eddie caressed Steve’s face, brushing his thumbs over cheekbones as he himself tried not to immediately blow his load.

“I need you to calm down a little for what I’m gonna ask you next, okay? I need you fully present.”

Steve nodded, pressing their foreheads together. “I understand.” He breathed in and out a few times, in and out, in and out before opening his eyes. “What is it?”

Eddie flicked his own eyes between Steve’s, blown out black and horny with that ring of honey-brown around them.

“Do you want to bite me?”

He could feel Steve’s breath catch in his chest rather than hear it as his eyes started to slowly leak yellow into brown.

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.” He answered without much hesitation.

Eddie nodded. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re gonna bite me, you’re gonna drink. In ten seconds I’m gonna tap on your neck twice,” tap, tap “and you’re gonna stop.”

Steve nodded as well. His eyes were almost completely yellow now. “And I’m gonna stop.”

“Yeah. After that you can take what you need from me, drink until you’ve had your fill, ride me into the ground.”

“What if I can’t stop?”

“I have a brick.”

“Seriously?” Steve laughed, but as they did the vibrations very swiftly reminded them that Eddie was still very much inside him and the laughter was punched out of them in a quick whoosh of a joined moan.

Steve leaned forward, his breath coming in short bursts again as he pressed a light kiss against Eddie’s neck. 

Eddie rested one hand on the side of Steve’s neck, repeating two taps, ten seconds, two taps, to himself over and over.

“Ready?” Steve muttered.

“Yeah.”

The next second he felt two sharp stings in the side of his neck, followed quickly by numbness and a sucking feeling like he was getting the most intense hickey of his life, whining high and wanton out through the shed.

At the same second Steve let out his own guttural growl, clutching onto Eddie tight and grinding his hips down in time with his sucking.

Eddie was endlessly thankful that he was still lucid, still able to count but that meant he had to witness the gross horror in front of him for the next six seconds.

As soon as Steve growled out, he started radiating this aura of danger, predator, protect. It was intense and wild and terrifyingly arousing, but apart from that, everything else could feel it too.

The spiders that had just been chilling in the corners of the ceiling scuttled away through the cracks at the speed of light. Eddie could hear other creepy crawlies under the floorboards scatter and fight to get as far away as possible, even hearing the squeaking of some mice and rats as well as a few birds scamper, trying to put as much distance as they could between themselves and this apex predator.

Eddie tapped Steve’s neck twice and the sucking sensation stopped immediately. Steve laved his tongue over the wound before pulling back, continuing to bounce ever so slightly in Eddie’s lap with debauched little punched out ‘ah, ah, ah’ noises.

Steve looked… Steve looked amazing. Somehow more perfect than he had only a few seconds ago, his skin was practically glowing, his hair was voluminous and thick despite the sweaty heat of two writhing bodies, his cheeks were a delicate rosy pink, his plump mouth was full and rose red and his eyes were like two clear crystal yellow sapphires.

“I- I stopped.” He panted as he bounced more insistently, planting his feet and using Eddie’s shoulders to leverage himself up and down, up and down.

Eddie’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head, he’d never felt like this, it had never been this good before. “You- you did. My beautiful boy. My good boy.”

Steve landed down hard at that, nearly screaming out again. Eddie felt so thoroughly fucked and used and it was the most glorious thing.

“D’you- need more?” He moaned out, pretty sure he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Mm- want more, Eddie. Want more.”

“Okay, baby. Take it.” He grabbed Steve by the back of his neck and hauled him forward, crashing his mouth back over the wound on his neck. “Take it all.”

He didn’t bite this time, just sucked at the still weeping wound. Which seemed to double the pleasure running rampant through Eddie’s body and if the fucked out sounds and filthy movements Steve was making were anything to go by he was feeling it too.

He managed to wedge a hand in between the two of them to grasp Steve’s length and employ every trick he knew, twisting, turning, kneading and rubbing.

“That’s it, my good boy, my darling, my baby, my sweetheart. Feel so good around me, never felt like this before, gonna keep you forever. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck me, Stevie, I’m gonna-”

He couldn’t even cry out as he came, the sensation was so overwhelming it got caught in his throat, against Steve’s lips who crashed over the edge a few seconds later, the force of his orgasm hitting Eddie in the chin with his come.

They clung close to each other as they came down, sweaty and tired and electric.

“How are you feeling?” Steve muttered, hoving his hand over the fang marks he’d left in Eddie’s neck.

“‘M feeling good. Wouldn’t even know they were there.”

“I didn’t take too much?” His eyes were wide and worried, melting back to honey-brown.

“No, baby.” Eddie shook his head, now feeling the twinge in his neck and rubbed his hands up and down Steve’s arms. “You didn’t take too much. I feel good. Great, even.” 

Steve looked amazing, fantastic, perfect. Like the most dedicated renaissance painting, a peak of health and beauty. He’d take the modelling world by storm if he chose to. It was almost unfair. If Eddie hadn't already had his wicked way with him, he’d be looking for excuses to pin him down.

“How about you?”

“So good. Better than I’ve ever felt, I think.” Steve gave him a blinding smile and Eddie was helpless to lean forward and taste it himself. There was a bit of blood on his lips and in his mouth but that was fine because it was Steve and if Eddie could survive his morning breath he could survive a bit of his own blood in his mouth.

"Can you stand?"

“I- yeah. I should be okay.”

Well thank god for that because Eddie was pretty sure his legs were dead from the weight that had been on top of them but honestly that was the least of his worries as Steve winced, trying to right himself on shaky legs.

“I suppose a shower is out of the question?” Steve was using his underwear to wipe in between his legs and gingerly pulling his pants back up while Eddie stretched his legs out so he wouldn’t be wobbling into the house like a wounded gazelle.

“Not unless you want the whole house quizzing you on why you’re showering at, like, one in the morning.” 

His t-shirt was wet and now it was also cold which was a 2/10 experience, the only thing giving it two points was that it was wet with Steve because he was a gross little rat man and he was proud of it. 

They poked and prodded each other with giggled whispers and terrible attempts to keep quiet as they stole up the stairs, being satisfied enough with a cursory wipedown from a washcloth and fell into bed together still snickering and muttering nonsense as they fell asleep curled around one another.

It felt like it had only been a blink of the eye when Steve sat bolt upright in bed, but daylight was starting to break over the horizon so it had to have been a few hours later.

“Sss’evie?” Eddie slurred, barely conscious. He turned and tried to blink through his haze but he could barely see straight. “S’wrong?”

“Something’s coming.” Steve whispered, almost to himself before his entire body locked up, tensing as if ready to pounce. 

In the next second he’d darted over Eddie, bracketing him with his body, hovering with big yellow eyes.

“Stevie?” Eddie stared up at him a little wide eyed and a lot awake. He didn't get a response. "Baby?"

Then the world started to shake.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

@romanticdestruction, @darkwitchoferie, @justforthedead89, @didntwant2come, @estrellami-1, @warlordess, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @weeennussy, @studentlife-with-sassyaf-friends

dni banner credit @mikeykuns

[vernalseason]

Here's why I'm so goddamn feral about The Bear.

I ran an ice cream store for about five years. No, it wasn’t fine dining, it wasn’t even a restaurant, but it was still food service. We were in a vacation town, and our place was the only ice cream store in the area, and the ice cream was GOOD. Customers used to ask me all the time if I got sick of eating it and I’d say no, and I meant it. It was reasonably fancy as ice cream goes, with some pretty out-there flavors, but mostly it was just GOOD. Super flavorful, dense but not chewy the way that some ice creams get where it feels like it’s stretching unnaturally when you pull your spoon away…

Point is, it was an ice cream shop in a tourist town, and in the summer we got killed during service every single night. Nonstop lines from 7 til 12 or 1 in the morning, no breaks. We got after-dinner crowds, after-show crowds, hordes of camp kids a busload at a time, and it might not have been fine dining but we worked HARD. We had 8, 9, 10 people on peak days all scooping, cleaning, making milkshakes (which is The Worst, in case you were curious), restocking by running down rickety definitely-not-to-code stairs to our tiny walk-in and hauling ice cream up 4 boxes at a time—because goddamn it, time was valuable and running up and down the stairs sucked and no one was going to go down multiple times when you could just grab 4 at a time and grit your teeth and shove them onto the counter upstairs feeling like you’d just benched your own body weight.

At the start of the summer, Memorial Day weekend, we were at our absolute peak. Following a truly herculean hiring effort aided by the promise of unlimited free ice cream, we had a crew of 20-odd overcaffeinated teenagers and twentysomethings who were working a truly awe-inspiring pace to kill the line. My favorite moments were, variously:

Being so busy I had to run two registers simultaneously, waiting for Square to process a transaction on one (chip card readers were murderously slow in the early days) while taking cash on the other;

Absolutely shattering every store record on a Saturday night with a skeleton crew and getting approval to order 12AM pizza on the company card, and taking a long, long hour to eat before we finally had to get around to scrubbing the calcified ice cream off the floors;

Gearing up to call for a restock on spoons, napkins, and other such necessities only to find that my assistant manager was behind me with a milk crate of those very things;

And so on.

There was about a month and a half of beautiful, well-staffed, smooth-running time before things frayed at the edges. Suddenly the factory couldn't get enough ingredients, since the company was chronically broke (turns out wholesale ice cream is a bad idea, folks; retail is where it's at), or the store walk-in broke down and we had to resort to chest freezers for storage for a month, or, most commonly, we started losing staff. I was always after the owner of the company to hire more year-round full-time staff, but there was always something more urgent for him to spend money on, like rent. So inevitably our staff would start leaving for college, and we'd be left with about half to a third of the staff we really needed to run. Which is when things started getting bad.

There are only so many doubles you can work before you start losing your grip on reality. I recall one day in August when I was somehow, improbably, the only person available to fill an entire day of shifts, and worked from 9AM pre-open to 11PM at night. The only thing that I remember is that the tips were phenomenal. But by Labor Day weekend we were down to our last seasonal staff and the entire core crew had worked at least two doubles that week and we limped into the off season with about two remaining brain cells between us.

Anyway. This post was supposed to be about The Bear.

I've never seen a show—or at least, never seen a FICTIONAL show—that so deeply understands what it means to be in food service. I watched the first episode in absolute awe of how they captured the intensity—just GOING until you get a moment to yourself in the bathroom, in the walk-in, in the office. And when you slow down, you think about how tired you are. How burnt out. How much all you really want is just to sit, maybe eat a slice of pizza, and stare into space for an hour. But then you go back out, and you get back to work.

I've also never seen a show that so accurately captures what it looks like and feels like to be a manager. Carmy losing his temper, giving in to that righteous anger in 'Review'—how DARE you not cover your station, how DARE you leave me with this mess that you created—I've been there. I'm not proud of it. I didn't punch a ticket printer, or scream in anyone's face, but I lost my cool, and that sticks with me. You don't get to take it back. You apologize (even if you were right), you patch things up, but no one ever really forgets.

But the show also does justice to one of the great joys of the service industry: getting to see people improve. One of my favorite subplots is Tina going from sabotaging Sydney to respecting her, trusting her, defending her. But mostly, it's my favorite because we see her get BETTER. She goes from just holding down her station to being a pro, from throwing things together to being careful, and thoughtful, and focused. And that moment when Tina says 'thank you, chef', and means it, really MEANS it, that's the kind of thing that gets me all teary. Because it's so much more than just 'thank you', but you'd have spend a hell of a lot longer to get it all out.

I guess if I was going to trace my rabid and, so far undiminished love of the show to a single thing, it would be the fact that it makes me feel seen. I haven't done that much reading on the people who made the show, but enough of them clearly lived this life or got close enough to it that they understand what it does to people, and what it requires of them. I loved working in food service, and sometimes I even miss it. I loved getting to make people's days, to give kids their first-ever ice cream, to feel like people were leaving in a better mood than they came in. And I met my partners through this life, all three of them, which is as exactly as wild and improbable as it sounds. But every time I look back on it fondly, I make myself remember that it was miserable too. The late nights, the early mornings, the days off cut short by delivering emergency stock or jumping in to cover a shift or just ending back up at the shop out of habit. The crushed toes and ragged wrist tendons and hoarse throats, the constant phone calls or checking sales to try and anticipate if we needed more staff. The sensation that after service, the rest of the world was dim in comparison.

I sank so much time and energy into that life, and I think the last thing I love about The Bear, the other thing that makes me tear up a little bit, is that for them it turns out alright in the end. They work through the problems, they make things run smooth, and they get the chance to build the place they dreamed about. That was always what I wanted, what I was working toward—the chance to make things better. And even in fiction, it makes me happy to see that come true.

[justcallmetory]

Urgh! The angst of Tyler Galpin X Sister! Reader— I LOVED IT

I'm probably going to make a few requests cuz I'm in love with your ideas(if you don't mind of course) but I will start with a not-so-random one

Could you do headcanons for Wednesday x Selective mute! Reader?

I'm making a series based on this pairing but the relationship/romance part it's not really my thing so...could you help? I mean, just ideas for them bonding and getting closer after season 1 would literally save me

It's such a pleasure to know that someone loves my works. Thanks you for the idea. I hope I managed to do it.

Wednesday x male! Reader

Your life before Nevermore

Your parents were sirens and used to attend Nevermore. When they found out you are mute, their life mission became making your life as comfortable as it was possible.

They showered you with love and tenderness but your peers were pretty cruel. They called you 'fish' and taunted constantly.

You often changed schools because of your parents who tried to stand up for you by all possible ways including siren' song.

You loved reading so you are the greatest nerd in the world.

You have a great imagination. Instead of watching TV like ordinary kids, you wrote fantastic stories about your adventures and you being normal. After all humiliation you became introverted and insecure.

You liked to have a stroll when streets get empty. You had a dog Bonnie so it was like your motivation to get out of your house. She was quite playful and adored you. You found her when she was a little sick puppy. She was left to die and local kids tried to make her die sooner throwing rocks in her but you protected her, shielding her with your back.

- Get lost, freak, or you want to get a punch?

- They are the same. This trash is dirty and ugly and this one can't even say a single word.

- His brain is so small that he can't do it!

They laughed at you but it was usual for you. You stopped trying to find out why people are so tyrannic towards you because you got used to it.

Your parents saved you and praised for bravery. You had nursed Bonnie till she got better. Eventually, she became normal and looked like other dogs and still she kept to your side.

One day you were walking around the town with Bonnie and she sniffed something and started barking. These were local bullies who made your life in school miserable but you kept it to myself.

- Who is here? Oh, that's the poor boy who can't even say something.

- Jack, he isn't going to say something. Maybe, we can do it with another way.

They rushed to you, taking out a small knife from their pockets to scare Bonnie but she didn't let them approach you. She attacked one of them and he stabbed her with the knife.

Meanwhile another bully tried to beat a soul out of you. When you saw her blood, you went ballistic. Your eyes were full of anger and something clicked inside of you. The bully stopped and you pushed him. He wasn't trying to defend himself then you glared at the other and he frose. He started shaking and fell on the ground. You dashed to Bonnie. Your phone was broken so you took her in your arms. She was heavy but you didn't have other options. Your parents were shocked to see you covered in blood after a walk.

It's a pity but Bonnie lost much blood and died in your arms. You were depressed for a long time, keeping her toys and photos.

You met the bullies in the school and they pinned you by your closet:

- We don't know how you and your shitty dog escaped but now we want to continue our conversation

You felt the anger again. Because of these bastards you lost your only friend. Their looks made your blood boil. You felt the feeling again and they froze. You used the opportunity and punched them, not caring that someone can see or hear you beat them. When you saw blood, you felt excitement. You were dragged by some teachers. That's how you were expelled.

Your parents didn't scold you for this and one day enrolled you to Nevermore, thinking that you can find some friends there.

Your life in Nevermore

Gossips about you reached the school before you. Everyone talked behind your back but you didn't care. Rumours about you reduced when this strange girl appeared because her story was more interesting than yours.

One day you were paired with her. She looked intimidating but turned out to be as indifferent to everything as you. You agreed to do your project in your room because you didn't have a rommie.

You were doing your project and she saw a photo on your table by your bed.

- Dog lover?- she asked showing you some signs

You squeezed a pen in your hand and ink was all over your hand. You left her, saying that you would be soon, trying to hold tears.

She was surprised and understood that the dog on the picture isn't ordinary but she was busy with her investigation so left the topic.

After the project your ways crossed rarely. You were also busy with investigating the case. You had your suspicions about Weens, who tried to hide death of Rowan. You was the one who found Thing at the station. It told you about Wednesday investigation.

That's when you started talking with Wednesday about the case. Some students started shipping you both.

She asked out the barista from Weathervane on the day of Raven. You, Eugene and her had decided to watch after the cave, but she chose to stay.

You left with Eugene. At first everything was okay but when someone appeared and burnt the cave you tried to see who it was, but you stepped on a branch and the sound revealed you. You tried to run away but the monster appeared. You tried to hypnotize it but its claws made a deep cut on your stomach. You passed out from blood loss.

Wednesday felt guilty and tried to visit both of you every day. Your parents appeared as soon as they heard about the accident. They had an argument with Weems calling her 'heartless witch who can't cope with her only duty - keep children safe' . They wanted to take you from the school but you were in coma. Wednesday promised them to look after you and they said that after the loss of Bonnie you avoided people so they are glad you to have found friends.

You woke up shortly after Eugene. Your parents wanted to take you away from Nevermore but you knew that if you do it, you will regret it. You had seen red boots and recognised them as Thornhill's.

You wanted to tell Wednesday but she already had left. You were worried and when Thing with Enid bumped into you, your guts told you that she is in a danger. You dashed to the Crypt with them, but when Enid started her transformation you had to go there by myself

You saw Tyler who was holding Wednesday by her collar so you pushed him. He transformed into a Hyde and attacked you. You used your hypnosis and it helped till the moment you lost control over him hearing some noises. He threw you in a tree and got ready to end your life but Enid saved you.

Wednesday dragged to Nevermore, knowing what's going on there right now. You saw the castle in fire and everyone was in panic but you were ready to any danger. While Wednesday was fighting with Crackstone, you were helping others to get out and then came back to the castle. You found Thornhill, who wanted to kill Wednesday so you attacked her from behind.

When everything ended, you took a small ball from your pocket, looking at it closely. It had some marks from Bonnie's teeth. You felt the hand on your shoulder, it was Wednesday. She hugged you tightly unexpectedly and you returned it. She told you about her Nero, who had been killed by bullies, and said the words you wanted to hear the most " I'm glad to have a friend like you" she smiled "If there were more people like you in the world, the world would be a better place. Hope to see you in the next semester"

" So do I" Enid appeared out of nowhere and hugged you

That's the time to turn a page and this time it will be easier with a friend who accepts you.

[capt-carter-mostly-official]

Hi captain! *salute and wink*

i'm bored can you tell me a war story?

-@azalea-romanoff

Hello there Lea, glad to hear from you!

I’d be happy to, now what would be a good one… hmmm, I can think of a few.

But let’s go with the time I visited my old school with the 107th, since that’s a pretty one and I honestly don’t want to talk about death today.

So, it’s December 1944, it’s new years. We’re all on leave, but not long enough for the boys to ship back to the states. So, what am I supposed to do, leave them in some rooming house in London or Bath and trust them to survive it? Of course not, that would be incredibly stupid.

So, I show up at my brother Michael’s door with these eight mostly American guys in full uniform two days before New Years. Since I’d enlisted, Michael had moved to the same town I’d gone to school in, and coincidentally the one where Angie Martinelli worked at the recruiter’s office. She was a the daughter of an American businessman and his British wife, she’d grown up in New York until she had been sent to the same boarding school as I was. To make a long story short, we’d fallen in love. Which was incredibly stupid, but I never managed to regret it.

She was, in fact, boarding with Michael because I’d introduced them, and when he found out they lived in the same town, he said he couldn’t not give a proper home to his little sister’s best friend. He had eventually found out about us, and by some miracle it was just fine. And of course, she was home. So I’m here, standing on the porch in full uniform with the Howling Commandos, in the snow, in this little town in England, and Angie comes running down the stairs with her hair in pin curls and a shawl over her nightgown and tackles me in a hug, and we’re just grinning and hugging while Michael’s still stunned in the doorway. She looks around, raises her eyebrows, and says “you didn’t say you were bringin’ guests English! Where are we gonna put all these folks?” And Michael just starts laughing his ass off and waves everyone in. They all stomp off their boots and start leaving their shoes by the door like me and Angie.

So eventually we figure out where we’re sleeping everyone; me and Angie sharing her room, Steve and Bucky in mine with Frenchie, Monty and Jonsey on their floor, everyone else on sofas and chairs and a few on the floor. And we all wind up in the kitchen at probably ten o’clock that night drinking tea, because me and Monty had been complaining about the tea Jim had gotten. And Angie and Bucky are commiserating about how horrible me and Steve are to keep an eye on, and suddenly Dum Dum says “hey Miss Union Jack, this your girl?” And then the room got incredibly quite incredibly quickly. Steve, who of course had figured it out within minutes of hearing me mention her for the first time, looked prepared punch him if necessary, Michael was ready to kill the whole room from how he was standing. But also, these men had been alright when they’d found out about Buck and Steve — that’s an entirely different story — after a bit of explaining, and would kill to keep that secret. So, I grabbed Angie’s hand and nodded rather sharply before telling them that “yes, this is my girl, and anyone who has anything to say about it can walk out that door right now and never come back.” Michael just shrugged and smiled. “What, you thought she’d do what our dad wanted?” Was his answer(for context, Dad always wanted me to get married young to a young, respectable, Christian family man. Dad and I were never very close) and Dum Dum nodded and proceeded to decidedly un-subtly spike his tea.

The next day, we somehow wound up deciding to visit me and Angie’s old school, because both of us knew being stuck there over the holiday break was always lonely and it would be nice to see some old teachers. However, the boys only had one change of clothes and both needed to be washed, so we were all in uniform, and I was in my standard officer’s uniform. So we arrive, as our now world-famous selves, to an all-girls boarding school on New Year’s Eve, bearing a large bag of candy and some popping corn we’d picked up from the grocery.

There were about a fifteen, maybe twenty girls left in the place, and all of them were incredibly excited, particularly when Miss Ashton, the headmistress, came down to tell them I’d been a student here. They all knew Angie, she visited often, but they pulled stories out of me for the whole morning, and then convinced all of us to go ice skating on the pond. Which went horribly. Me and Angie knew how, and Bucky was decent enough. Steve chose to sit on the side, In Bucky and Dum Dum’s coats as well as his own, and draw with the youngest girl, who I think was probably about twelve. Dum Dum fell on his face, Monty and Jim started teaching a few to play hockey, and eventually they found enough sticks in the woods to start a game with a rock and a bunch of tree branches. Everyone was just laughing and it was so beautiful. We came in probably around four and made all the popcorn and the teachers who were left joined us. There were stories and songs and Michael came down with some food and we spent New Year’s Eve there.

We shipped out again about three days later. That was the last time I saw Angie. But we did have a “ceremony” on New Year’s Day. We exchanged necklaces, since rings would be too risky, and said vows we made up on the spot with the Commandos and Michael as our witnesses. Frenchie’s dad has been a pastor, so he officiated. It was beautiful. We didn’t say it was a marriage, because we were too afraid. But that’s what it was. She was my wife in every way that mattered. And… I found a letter in a box. From Angie, to me. Signed “your wife, Angie”

So I suppose I’m a widow now. I guess I never really thought about it that way before.

[storiesforallfandoms]

an honor ~ johnny depp

word count: 2842

request?: yes!

“hey :) this is such a specific request and i’m so sorry but i need it lmao. can you do a female reader x johnny depp where she is an elementary school teacher and her school wins a contest where johnny goes to visit. he ends up spending a lot of time in her classroom and they hit it off. he’s in town for 2 more days so he and the reader end up getting dinner and he feels like he could really fall hard for her. THANK YOU. a girl can only dream”

description: after her school wins a contest to have a visit from the captain himself, she finds herself gaining his attention

pairing: johnny depp x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

My kids were buzzing with excitement as the minutes ticked closer to our big visitor arriving.

I worked as a teacher in a small elementary school. The population was just over 50 students spread out between kindergarten to grade 4. Not a lot ever happened at the school, so whenever something even moderately out of the ordinary happened, it was a pretty big deal.

The month before there had been a contest for one of the local schools to win a visit from Captain Jack Sparrow - actual Johnny Depp himself. Our principal had entered us, but none of us teachers really thought we’d win. To our surprise, we received a call at the beginning of the week that we had won and we’d be getting the visit on Thursday!

So now, on the Thursday of the visit, the students could barley focus on their school work. I couldn’t blame them, though. Just the thought that Johnny Depp would be appearing at my classroom door at any second made it hard to concentrate what I was teaching.

Everyone jumped with excitement as a knock came at the door. I tried to shush them but the quiet murmurs still filled the room.

I felt my heart leap as I opened the door and found Johnny, dressed as Jack Sparrow, leaning against the doorway. He smiled at me and I smiled back, hoping I didn’t look as nervous as I felt.

“Hello Mr. Sparrow,” I said.

“Captain Sparrow, darling,” he corrected me.

I felt my face heat up at the pet name. Calm down, (Y/N). He’s definitely called all the female teachers that today.

“Right, of course,” I said. “Please, come in.”

I stepped aside to let him enter. He look at my students, who were all watching him with wide eyes of wonder and excitement. In character, he grimaced at the sight of them.

“Oh, hello, more small people,” he said. He leaned in close to me to add, in a stage whisper, “Why is this place so full of small people?”

“It’s a school, Captain!” one of my students called.

“School?! Well, I must be in the wrong place then. A school is no place for a pirate.”

“Pirates are supposed to be in the ocean on their pirate ships,” another student said.

“Exactly! We’re supposed to be sailing the high seas looking for treasure. No inside a classroom learning. Although, learning to read and to do math does help us to figure out maps and if we are sailing in the right direction.”

“See?” I said. “I told you guys that math can be used in real life.”

“But Miss. (Y/L/N), pirates aren’t real!” another student tried to argue.

“You say that, and yet here I am,” Johnny said, dramatically gesturing to himself. “And I do believe I am pretty real.”

I sat down behind my desk and watched my students interact with the character. All their faces were lit up and they were so happy. I couldn’t help but smile myself. The biggest perk of my job was moments like these, where I got to see my students at their happiest. Getting to experience this memory that would no doubt stick with them for the rest of their lives was also a huge plus.

When we were told about the visit, Johnny’s management team told us that there was a strict timeline he was on for the visit. He would be at the school for a few hours, spending only half an hour in each classroom. We were told that was the best way for him to get to every classroom in a timely manner and give each of the kids the same amount of attention. It was reasonable, we all agreed to it.

However, after some time of Johnny being in my classroom, I glanced at the clock and noticed that he had been there for 40 minutes instead of the slotted half hour. I figured that maybe he hadn’t been watching the time, or that this was my fault for not having watched it better, so I quickly stood from my desk, stopping Johnny mid sentence.

“Sorry, I just realized that we’ve gone over time a little bit,” I said.

“That’s alright, I have plenty of time,” Johnny insisted.

“We were told you only have a few hours...because you have to get back to your ship,” I said, trying to improvise to keep the act up. “I wouldn’t want to be the reason that your adventures are delayed.”

“Truly, I don’t mind. I’m having a nice time with these little people.”

“But we wouldn’t want you to disappoint any of the other...little people.”

He sighed, finally defeated. “You’re right. Suppose I shall continue on then.”

He said goodbye to my class, who were upset that he had to go but could not stop talking about the visit once he had left. There was still an hour left of the school day, and I knew there was no way I would get them back on topic now, so I decided to let them have free time until the end of the day.

When the final bell rang, they raced out of the door, all saying goodbye to me as they went along. I stayed back to do some preparing for the next days lesson plan, when I heard a knock on my door.

I looked up and felt my breath catch as I saw Johnny standing there again, this time out of his Jack Sparrow costume.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said.

“No, not at all,” I told him. “How may I help you, Mr. Depp?”

“Please, call me Johnny,” he said.

“Alright, Johnny. Is there anything I can do for you?”

He stepped into my classroom. It felt like some sort of dream to have him there. I was convinced it wasn’t real. I had to secretly pinch myself to make sure I was awake.

“I just wanted to thank you for having me a little bit over my time today,” he said. “I hope I didn’t interfere too much with your teaching.”

“Maybe a little, but it was bound to happen given the circumstances,” I said. “But you don’t have to apologize for that. Really, it was such an honor to have you here. I just didn’t want you to get in trouble for being in my classroom too long, or for any of the other classrooms to miss the chance to get to meet you.”

Johnny chuckled slightly. “Yeah, I sort of forgot I still had two more classrooms to visit after yours. I had a hard time convincing myself to leave today until you brought it up.”

I titled my head in confusion. “Why is that?”

He seemed flustered when I asked, which shocked me more than anything else had today. It didn’t seem right that he - the Hollywood actor - was becoming flustered by me - the elementary school teacher.

“I...I kind of wanted...to spend more time here...with you,” he said.

I take it back, this shocked me more than anything else that day had.

“From the moment you opened the door, I was blown away by how beautiful you are,” he explained. “And watching the way you interacted with the kids, I knew you had a beautiful personality to match. I was trying to figure out how to speak with you in private, but the more that time went on the more I realized that may not have been an option. I didn’t want to miss the other two classrooms I had left to visit, but it felt hard to pull myself away.”

I was left speechless. Now I was sure this was a dream. Not even the pinching could convince me otherwise.

“I don’t mean to come on too strong,” he continued. “If I’m over stepping boundaries here please tell me, but I’m in town for the next two days and I’d like to get dinner with you. If you want, that is.”

He was looking at me expectantly, and that’s when I realized he was waiting for me to say something. I still felt tongue tied as I stuttered out some nonsense, but finally got ahold of myself long enough to say, “Yeah. I’d like that. How about tomorrow night?”

His smile was so radiant at my response. “That works perfect for me. I can pick you up around 6?”

We agreed and exchanged numbers so that I could text him my address the next night.

When he left I pinched myself one last time, a bit harder than the last few. I let out a yelp as my arm stung in pain. At least I could confirm that I definitely was not dreaming.

~~~~~~

I felt very distracted throughout my classes the next day. I tried my best to seem present and to teach the best I could, but I kept fumbling or forgetting what I was doing. The day felt like it was dragging on until the moment Johnny was supposed to pick me up.

Finally, the school day ended. I waited around after class like I normally did, but the moment the hallways were empty I quickly collected my things and rushed home.

I hadn’t been on a date in a while, and I wasn’t really sure what to expect when going out with a celebrity. I wanted to dress nice, but I wasn’t sure if I should dress fancy or just casual. I didn’t even know where we were going for dinner.

I finally settled on a dress and a pair of heels to match. I decided to put on light makeup to have a natural look and just wear my hair down natural as well. By the time I had finally made my decisions and finished getting ready, Johnny was pulling up outside and knocking on my front door.

He looked down at me as I opened the door. Of course, he looked extremely handsome as well, but he always looked that way.

He smiled. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” I said. “So do you.”

He offered me his arm like a gentleman. “Shall we?”

I took it and he walked me to his car. He even opened the door for me to get in, which is something that hadn’t been done for me in a very long time.

The car ride to the restaurant was silent and slightly awkward. I wasn’t really sure what to say to him, and he seemed to be having the same issue. It made me a little less nervous to know that he seemed to be in the same boat as me.

We arrived to the restaurant and I was relieved to see it wasn’t a super fancy place. It was just a locally owned restaurant that luckily wasn’t too busy on a Friday night. I was sure Johnny was used to being recognized in public, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be noticed and swarmed by people while we were out. That much attention just wasn’t my thing.

Luckily, it seemed he had already thought of that as he had placed a reservation under a fake name and had us sat in a private section of the restaurant. The host gave us our menus and told us the server would be with us soon.

“I’ll be honest,” I said, finally breaking the silence, “I’m glad we’re not at a super fancy restaurant or anything.”

Johnny chuckled. "You were afraid that’s where I was going to take you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never met a celebrity before, let alone gone on a date with one. I don’t really know what the etiquette is for being out with one. I sometimes assume they just go to the most expensive and luxurious places.”

“That’s not me. Some fancy places have good food, but that’s the main thing for me: the food. I don’t want to go to some place that will charge you $100 for the smallest portions that aren’t even good. As for the etiquette with a celebrity, I say act as if you’re on a date with just a normal person. That’s all I am really.”

I wanted to tell him he was anything but normal, but I knew he had a point. Some celebrities acted like they were better than everyone else, but I could already tell he was not one of those people.

Our server arrived and we ordered drinks and an appetizer. As I looked through the menu, Johnny started the small talk.

“How long have you been a teacher?”

“About ten years, I think,” I responded. “It doesn’t feel like that long, though. Besides the constant change of faces in my classroom, I could convince myself I started teaching just yesterday.”

He smiled. “You seem really passionate about it.”

“I am. I love kids and I love to teach. I’ve known my whole life that this is what I wanted to do. I was lucky that I got a substituting job at the school while I was still in college, and then that they hired me on full time when I graduated. Not a lot of people get those kinds of opportunities.”

Johnny listened to me talk as I told him about my family, my childhood, and my years in college. It wasn’t until our appetizers arrived and we placed our entrée orders that I realized how much I truly had been talking.

“Oh God, I’m talking your ear off,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this all about me.”

“Don’t apologize,” he assured me. “I like listening to you talk.”

I felt my face burn the same way it had the day before when he called me “darling”. I looked down at the food in my hands to hide any signs of fluster on my face.

“What about you?” I asked.

“What about me?”

I opened my mouth to ask something about him, but I realized it felt like there wasn’t anything for me to ask. A lot of Johnny’s life was already public and, having been a fan of his, it didn’t feel like there was a lot for me to ask that I didn’t already know.

I let out a sigh of defeat. “Okay, I got nothing.”

He chuckled again. “That’s why I don’t mind you talking. I don’t think there’s much about me that I could say that you don’t already know.”

“That must be hard,” I said. “Having people already know so much about you, I mean. Doesn’t seem like there’s a lot of privacy for you.”

He shrugged. “It comes with the job. I’ve dealt with it for so many years that it’s hard to complain now. I know what I’ve gotten myself into.”

“I think you can complain a little bit. Just because it comes with the job doesn’t really mean it’s fair to you.”

He nodded but didn’t say much else.

When our entrees came, I managed to coax him into telling me about his kids. I could see him light up even at just the mention of them. He started telling me all about them, especially his son, Jack, who was less in the public eye than his daughter, Lily-Rose.

We seemed to melt into easy conversation then. We went back and forth talking for the rest of the evening. I was almost upset when the bill came and we had to leave. I could’ve stayed in that booth for hours just talking to Johnny about anything and everything.

The ride back home felt less awkward. I felt myself becoming a little brave as I reached over to put my hand on Johnny’s. He laced his fingers through mine and gave my hand a light squeeze. I smiled to myself. Now I never wanted to let go.

He walked me to my door, like a gentleman. We both paused to look at each other, both hesitant to make a move.

“I had a lovely night,” I told him.

“Me too,” he said.

“I’d really like to do it again. If you’re ever in town again, that is.”

I tried not to let the hurt show on my face at the thought of him having to leave the next day.

“For you, I’ll come back as much as you want,” he said. “I’ll be here till you’re so sick of me that you’ll want to get rid of me.”

I shook my head. “I can’t see that happening.”

And then, with a brief moment of courage hitting me, I leaned forward to kiss him. He met me half way, cupping my face gently as he pressed his lips against mine. My whole body felt like it was exploding, in a good way if that makes sense. I could hardly describe what the feeling was like.

Johnny pulled away first and I had to stop myself from pulling him back to me.

“Have a good night, (Y/N),” he said. “I’ll see you again soon.”

“Goodnight Johnny.”

[ahedderick]

Outdoor School

@oceanfloorfires I don't want to derail a perfectly good snake post, so I will write a separate one to explain Outdoor School. I hope this doesn't end up being TOO many details.

I have no idea how widespread this phenomenon is across the usa or the world, but it is a long tradition here in Maryland. There is a camp facility owned by the 4H club that is used for OS for a couple of weeks in September and October. There are simple cabins with rows of bunks, a bath house, a cafeteria, and several larger buildings. The idea is to get kids in their last year of elementary school out into the woods from Monday to Friday one week in the fall.

As a chaperone I was in charge of a cabin full of about 12 girls, half from our school and half from a different one. The girls I knew were pretty easy to handle, because I was a frequent volunteer in school and they knew me. The others - were a handful at times.

Parent chaperones did not have to attend any of the classes or activities, and in fact some of them had to scamper off to go to work. THAT must have been tough. I chose to go on all activities that had hikes, and a few of the classes.

The camp site is gorgeous. The weather is always surprisingly chilly, because it is one climate zone colder than home. The "classes" were absolutely terrible. They had to rely on volunteers to teach, and they got what they paid for. For example . . . no, I need to go take my medicine.

{pause for tranquilizers}

Ok, the one hike took them through the forest and also a gorgeous bog.

They paused in the forest to talk to the kids about the vegetation, and confidently told the children that. that. that a club moss (lycopodium) was a baby pine tree. *breaks down sobbing*

On another hike, a different instructor pointed dramatically at a small mountain laurel and told the kids it was a blueberry bush. The LOOK my daughter gave me. There was an actual lowbush blueberry right there. There was also a cranberry bush with one or two little cranberries on it. We had to point it out to the instructor, who said "Hunh. Maybe that IS a cranberry."

That aside. There were many good things. Showing up at the cafeteria three times a day to get a good meal that I didn't have to cook OR clean up was utterly splendid. I loved those cafeteria ladies. I hope they didn't find it unnerving that I beamed radiantly every time they handed me a tray of mediocre-but-nourishing food. One night we had movie night. They set up the projector and the screen in the middle of the cleared area. We were sitting in the dark, surrounded by an impressively large forest, watching a fun movie. Good times.

One dinner I tried sitting with the other chaperones instead of with my campers. It took me three days before I realized that chaperones were sitting separately. Oh, well. Someone came in and told the lady sitting across from me that "Lee" was outside having a meltdown. She rolled her eyes and started to get up reluctantly. "Um, would that be 'Lee' from [our school]?" I asked. Yes, it was.

"I'll handle this," I snapped, and Woman plunked back down. I did not punch her (but I wanted to). I went outside and found Lee sobbing like her heart would break. She was INTENSELY homesick. Neither of her parents could drive, and there was no other family member able to come (over an hour away from our town) get her. She had called home and begged to be picked up, but they couldn't. I held her and started Talking. How proud I was that she had made it Three Whole Days already. How strong she was! How proud she would be when - not if! - she made it to the last day. And didn't her older brother bail and go home when he did OS? My, wouldn't that be something, for her to succeed where Brother had failed. By the end of this she had subsided from sobbing to sniffling gently. She did indeed manage to complete the week. I told her and her chaperone that any further Issues should be directed to me, because I knew her and her family.

The last evening they gathered all the campers in the main building for skits (the less said, the better) and entertainment. The last thing was a spoooooooky story about the ghosts of the family that originally lived on the land when it was a farm and they still haunt the campground to this very day!!! The kids were scared silly (in a good way). We walked back through the dark (there were no outside lights anywhere) to our cabin. There were about four girls clinging to me, and the others were clumped very closely around. Campers going all different directions were hooting and yelling in the distant darkness.

Next morning the kids packed up, swept the cabin, and everybody went home. It was, overall, a good experience, give or take some late-night shenanigans. I was glad I did it. I missed the cafeteria ladies for weeks.

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicmas23 Day 3: Hybrid (The Party)

Good evening! I might have spent today reading a very old draft and realizing that as bad as the draft is, there is potential there. I'm pretty excited, and hoping I can salvage some of it for a future day.

But today I humbly offer a new scene from the OG Hybrid. This particular scene comes from earlier in the fic - after Jasper tried to feed on Alice and the Cullens begrudgingly welcome Alice to join their lunch table, but you wouldn't call them friends yet. Plus Alice is still set on being a normal high schooler with normal experiences.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

---

The party is exactly what I expected - eighty teenagers in a log house unsupervised. There’s a good mix of Res kids and town kids; and from the conversation that I overhear, it's not just Forks High students from town either - at least a few are from the hippie school which might explain the distinctive smell wafting from the den - and a few people who have definitely graduated. 

I feel awkward from the moment I arrive; after all, other than Angela and the Cullens, I don’t really hang out with many kids from school. I was so determined to have a normal experience and go to a high school party without vampires, I hadn’t really considered the reality of the situation. And the sheer amount of complete strangers here puts me on edge - it’s one thing to try and hang out like a normal teenager with my classmates and schoolmates. It’s an entirely different thing to be faced with a house full of random people when I don’t have anyone here to watch my back. The few parties I had attended in Chicago, I had gone to with one of my foster siblings, and no matter how much we disliked each other or what arguments we had, we always had each other’s back. 

And Cynthia was way too young to be dragged to a high school party - no matter how enthusiastically she would have attended this with me - so I was on my own. I could do this, I had been to parties before. Hell, I’d been a homeless middle schooler when I went to my first party, a rave in an abandoned warehouse. A house party was nothing to be nervous about. 

It’s easy enough to get a slice of pizza and a cup of what I know isn’t just a sugary sweet concoction of soda and juice. I smile and I talk - compliments for a girl in a bedazzled mini-dress, and another one with long pink and white hair; a couple of jokes for the guys manning the pizza boxes. I feel like I’m playing the part of a teenage girl at a party more than I feel like myself, but it’s something. I even manage to smile prettily and take a puff of a cigarette that I know isn’t tobacco and maybe have another drink and another until I’ve made party-friends with a group from Port Angeles who know a guy who knows a girl who got an invite or something. I feel a little more at ease with the alcohol in my system, and when the conversation turns to something I’m more familiar with.

In fact, I’m in the middle of explaining how we used to do our nails at my last foster home, when I’m rescued by a group of Forks High classmates; Mike Newtown is clearly their spokesperson as he unwelcomely grabs my arm. 

“Hey, we didn’t know you were here,” he says loudly; I can tell from the flush on his cheeks, he’s either helped himself to the beers piled into the bathtub down the hall or he’s been drinking the same punch as I have.

“I’ve been here a while,” I say, and decide that I’m not going to make a fuss that he’s glanced down at my chest right now. He can look twice, and then I start getting bitchy.

“We’re about… about to play a game. Connor’s setting up, come join us.”

There’s something about the way that Mike is pulling on my arm, and two of the girls he’s with are looking at me that makes me agree, quickly bidding the group I was talking to farewell. 

“You’re Alice, right?” One of the girls sidles up to me, sloshing her drink a little. “First party, huh? I’m Jennifer. A lot of these people crashed tonight. You gotta look out for each other.”

“Mrs Sawyer is gonna lose her shit when she sees this,” chortled the other girl, shoving a full cup at me. “Rob isn’t going to see the light of day until he’s like thirty after this.”

A boy I recognise from English - Austin - sidled up to us. “Rob’s in the den and he’s out. He’s not gonna have a clue what happened here. Told him to pace himself, but he never fuckin’ listens. Conner’s set up, let’s go.”

I take my seat at whatever dumb drinking game this is, and everyone seems eager to play. Jennifer and Samantha sit with me, but it doesn’t stop Mike Newton - who seems somewhat out of place here, without his usual group of friends - from clumsily flirting with me. I’ve had too much of the soda to appropriately call him out and make him stop, and my lukewarm disinterest seems to actually encourage him, though Jennifer swats at his hand when he attempts to casually touch my leg. 

It’s not the worst night or party I’ve been to. It’s hot and loud, but there aren’t any fights breaking out, and most of the illicit substances seem to be kept in the back rooms of the house. It’s amazing how time locked up in a mental hospital cured me of any interest in anything stronger than weed and whatever was in my drink; plus the last thing I wanted was to get that kind of reputation. 

But by midnight, I feel… sticky. I’m sweaty and my mouth tastes sour and sickly; my head is spinning and I’m too hot and I need to get out of this shitty house and away from these people who don’t even know who I am. Samatha and Jennifer have clearly decided to keep track of me, and there’s some obligation because I’m one of them, but they aren’t my friends and we probably won’t acknowledge this night ever again. Plus, a few of the hippie school guys have been watching me from the corner, and even through the haze of alcohol and weed, alarm bells are ringing - I can sense animosity from a mile away. 

I need to get out of here. 

It’s easy enough to excuse myself to the bathroom and then just leave through the laundry room door without anyone noticing. My head feels syrupy as I make it down the deck stairs and out into the night. 

It’s colder outside than I remember and the air is such a relief, I want to press my face to the ground. I wish I had some water, but I need to get home - I was supposed to get a ride from someone here, but I didn’t trust myself to ask the right person right now, and I don’t really want to wait around any longer.

Plus, it was only a ten minute drive from town to this house, I could easily walk it. I’d made Simon drop me off at the crossroad half a mile away, I knew the way home. 

Stumbling down the driveway, I let the noise and light of the party fade away behind me. The house was right up against the lake, and the drive wove through the forest from the main road - leaving me in the dark. But it was nice; a relief.  

It was a beautiful night, and I was enjoying the walk - it was even helping sober me up. 

At least, I was right up until about halfway, when I tripped over something and landed flat on my face in the gravel. That also indicated to me that I was… not quite as sobered up as I thought, because the pain felt very distant in that moment, like I was filing it away for later. 

I shouldn’t have had so much to drink when I knew it was spiked.  

Getting up was not a possibility. My ankle was sore, the world was spinning, my knees were burning, and the ground was nice and cool. The best I could manage was to half crawl to the side of the driveway and collapse in the long grass to wait for it to pass. I wasn’t sure if that was the night, my drunken state, or my inability to stand up, but I figured I could wait it out. I was comfy. 

It was a pretty night, with the clouds drifting across the sky. It’s pleasant enough that I just lie there, staring up at the moon and the stars, with my head swimming. It’s not as bad as the feeling I used to get in the hospital when they’d give us the drugs to make us sleep. That made me feel like I didn’t have control over my arms and legs, like I was stuck and trapped and at the whim of someone else. This is warmer, and I’m still in control; kind of like I’m dreaming but awake. It was nicer. I kind of understood why some kids had preferred alcohol to meds now. 

It’s just so peaceful, even if the damp is seeping through my top, that I lose track of the time. Dad had been worried letting me go, and made me swear I’d be home by one but I was nearly certain that I was going to miss that deadline. It was weird having a curfew - unless I was homeless, curfews at the hospital and in my foster homes had been more of the ‘in bed by nine, don’t even consider an alternative’ flavour. 

At a certain point, though, reality began to break through the peaceful little haze I had going on, and I remembered my phone in the little sling bag that had gallantly survived the entire night without getting lost. 

There were no cabs in Forks to my knowledge - and from what I had seen at school, there was a fifty-fifty chance they’d refuse to pick me up for one of three reasons: I was the daughter of the gay guys, I was the mysterious newcomer, or that I had been drinking at a high school party. After a few weeks in Forks, I’d found that the small-town judgment and prejudice were quieter than expected but it ran deep. 

Cynthia had programmed a bunch of useful numbers into my phone for me, so maybe that included a solution to the fact I was lying in the mud next to the driveway of a classmate’s house.  

Scrolling through my phone contacts, I wondered if I should just bite the bullet and call Dad or Simon, and own the fact that I was still a little bit high and still a little… okay, a lot drunk. I wouldn’t be the first ex-foster kid to come home drunk, and I wouldn’t be the last. But I also dreaded the look on my Dad’s face; that tired and disappointed one that looked like he had failed me and not the other way around. I wanted so much to be able to say that yeah, the party was fine, and have that been the end of it. I didn’t want the lecture, I didn’t want the embarrassment and I didn’t want…

I froze as I looked at my list of contacts. Five new numbers that I had certainly not programmed into my phone, and Cynthia certainly hadn’t added because if she knew and had these numbers, I was nearly positive that she would have sold them off to the highest bidder in the middle school cafeteria. 

How the fuck had the Cullens’ collective numbers ended up in my phone? Had I done it at one of our awkward lunches? That seemed unlikely, but my brain couldn’t completely rule that out as a possibility, especially when I was sleep-deprived or bogged down with homework. And why would Dr Cullen’s number be included if we’d exchanged numbers during lunch? As shitty as their high school act was, they at least knew that offering me Dr Cullen’s number would be fucking weird. 

Scowling, I selected the one member of the Cullens I would actually willingly talk to - well, the one member of the Cullens that I was quasi-certain wouldn’t immediately pass the phone off to any of the three members of the family I refused to speak to on principle. 

Emmett seemed cool, but I sensed weakness in him when it came to the will of Rosalie and tonight was not the night to test that theory out. 

If I hadn’t had so much punch, this would seem like a terrible idea. But if I hadn’t had so much punch, I’d be cheerfully walking myself home. Well, not cheerfully. But I’d be home in bed already, willing tonight to just go down in my personal history as mediocre and not worth repeating. 

“Hello?” The sound of Jasper’s voice sent a shiver down my spine and a spike of … reassurance? Like everything was okay or would be okay because he was so good at putting things… putting me… back together. 

Or he would be, in the future. I had seen it. 

“Why is your number in my phone?” In my head, it sounded indignant but even I could hear my words run together. Fuck. “I didn’t put it there.”

“…Alice?” The way he said my name… I thought I’d known what it would sound like after years of visions. But it was different in real life, better. He sounded confused and slightly startled, which was new. Normally when he said my name it was a polite greeting. In my visions, it was warmer and more intimate. 

“Yes, it’s Alice - do you and your family regularly inflict your phone numbers on unsus… unsusp… teenage girls that don’t know you stole their phones? You’re getting us all confused?”

“Alice are you… intoxicated?” He sounds incredulous. 

“Why does that matter?” I demanded. Jasper might be the love of my life, but he had not yet earned the privilege of commenting on my chosen activities, let alone get to police me. “For your information, there was a party at Rob Sawyer’s tonight and all the real teenagers went. You and your family need to be more convincing.”

“I can attest that not everyone went, because Bella is downstairs with Edward,” Jasper replied. 

“Well, her high school priorities are clearly different to mine,” I retorted; I was irritated that he was so calm and I couldn’t work out why. “I prefer to enjoy my youth. It’s fleeting, you know. One day she’ll look back and wonder why she spent so… so much time listening to her old man boyfriend play the piano when she could have been doing something fun… like going to a rave.” What was I saying? I hated raves. I liked getting dressed for them, because it was fun, but I hated how sweaty and crowded and smothering they were.

“Where are you, Alice?” Jasper sounds far too amused for my liking, and if he were here, I’d have smacked him. 

“I’m fine.” My back was actively wet now, and I was certain I was covered in mud. 

“Uh huh. Are you alone?”

“Yes.” There was a nearby frog I could hear, but nothing else. I was surprised - no one had left yet. Was it normal for Forks High parties to go on this long or did people stay over or what?

“You should call your parents, Alice. Get them to pick you up. Or Carlisle can if you’re worried,” Jasper says so kindly that all my indignation deflates like a balloon, and a ball of panic wells up in my chest. 

“No. You cannot tell my father about this,” I said. “You have to swear.”

“Alice, I think your parents would prefer you were home safe rather than alone and intoxicated,” Jasper said soothingly. 

“No. I don’t… they aren’t allowed to see this. I’m already too much trouble and messed up their lives, and I don’t want to disappoint them again,” I said, and felt tears well up in my eyes. “I must be costing them so much and they have to take me a bunch of places and watch me and every time I mess up or say something wrong, they get this look on their faces like they screwed up. It’s not. They didn’t have to take me into their home, not really, and I… I want to make it worth it for them.” I sniffled. 

There was silence on the other end of the phone. 

“Tell me where you are, Alice. I’ll drive you home.”

“Rob Sawyer’s house party. It’s on a dirt road.”

“That’s not… Don’t hang up, okay? I’m going to track your phone.”

“That sounds illegal, Jasper,” I said, wriggling around on the grass to get more comfortable. “How do you even do that?”

“It’s a long story. And yes, it is. But desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“I’m fine.” Kind of cold and muddy, and my knees and ankle were hurting in kind of a distant way, but the sweaty nausea had passed. I could easily fall asleep here. It wouldn’t even make the top ten worst places I’d slept in my life. 

“We’ll agree to disagree, Alice.” I could listen to Jasper say my name forever. “But I do have a question for you while we wait.”

“Okay?” 

“Why did you call me? I put all the numbers in your phone. Why me?”

I froze. He didn’t sound like he resented that I had chosen him; there was a note of something in his voice, something raw and real and even a little bit… not eager. But something. Maybe curiosity?

“Who else would I call? I hate doctors. Rosalie hates me. Edward doesn’t trust me and he reads minds. Emmett was a possibility, but he looks easily broken,” I said. 

“And Esme?” Jasper sounded disappointed. 

“I have a lot of mommy issues, let’s not unpack that box. I didn’t see her number there anyway.” I propped myself up on one arm. “You weren’t the last resort, Jasper. You were my first and only choice.”

“…Why?” Now I could hear the self-loathing in the boy’s voice. 

“Because I trust you,” I replied. “You’re the person I trust the most in the world. Or you will be one day.”

Silence again. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ve known about you for a long time,” I said, watching the clouds move across the sky. “You’re a protector, a planner. You love to read and learn but you loathe high school. You have a wicked sense of humour, and you just… fix everything. There’s nothing too terrible or silly or chaotic that you don’t make better. Just by being there, you’re making things perfect…” He was. I had years of dreams of laughing and talking together, of the way he would stroke my hair and wrap his arms around me. The way we’d lie together, him reading and me drawing or messing around on my phone. We were meant to be so happy. 

And it had to be said that he was… goddamn magnificent in bed. And like, I wasn’t entirely sure when he had died, but it was definitely in a ‘lie back and think of England’ era for women, so I felt like I should send a fruit basket or something to whichever ex-girlfriend had intervened because he was… outstanding. I’d only seen stuff like that over the last few years and it had been very enlightening on multiple levels. It had also been comforting that after every single thing that I’d lived through, I’d still be able to have that kind of intimacy with another person without all that fear and grief looming over me, and even enjoy it. 

If he gave me one single chance to be something, whatever he wanted, I’d be his ride-or-die forever. I knew how fiercely and completely we’d love each other, and I wanted that so badly. He’d been my best friend long before either of us had set foot in Forks, and I just needed him to take that leap of faith and trust me, the weird girl who knew too much, to capture that future that we both desperately wanted and needed. 

And I had no idea how I would convince Jasper of that. That I wouldn’t ask for this if it wasn’t something that I was so very certain we both wanted… 

The phone had gone quiet. 

“…What was I saying?” I yawned. 

“I hope I can live up to your expectations.” Jasper’s voice was softer now. “I’ve got your location, Alice, I’ll be there soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I said, as the phone line went dead. Awkwardly jamming my phone back into my sling bag, I closed my eyes for just a moment. Jasper was coming to get me and I’d go home, and everything would be okay.

[system-of-a-feather]

Man, so my middle sister is in town from New York as of last night (technically this morning) and I briefly went to my moms house (where she is staying) since we live near enough for me to just walk and they had free donuts; and my god

My family really doesn't get together all too much other than Christmas, and thank god our oldest sister (we cut contact) is still avoiding the family ever since we stopped being her pet and what not. But like, I really really forgot the truth to what we used to say to everyone who was around our family

"Independently, each of us being around one another is not that bad, hell it can even be good, but the closer we get to being a full family again, the rapidly and more exponentially worse it gets"

And god, I get along really well with my mom and my middle sister now, and pretty alright with my dad as well. But when I went over there and we started trying to *plan* a mostly figured out schedule for Christmas Eve / Christmas and just seeing the most MILD versions of the talking patterns and just high passive tension and stress that I feel most were still desensitized to like... God

How the FUCK did I survive LIVING in this for SO many years let alone DO REMEMBER we are missing one of the five puzzle pieces of hell - that of which was arguably our most insidious abuser

And I know its not that they were *bad* as to why it was exhausting, stressful and draining; cause my fiance had gone with me as well and he was barely bothered by it (anymore) cause they were honestly really good and not even "fighting"

But like good god. Sometimes cause of how much our life is better and how we managed to make things work with 3/4 of our immediate family members to actually have somewhat positive familial relationships with them independently, that we really wonder if it was really THAT bad

But like yeah no okay. If this is them on a "good day" with "good behavior" and "getting along" and I - having recovered as much as I have - get this overloaded and stressed from like 20 minutes of trying to plan things as a family like... fuck man I can't remember the specifics of living here for honestly largely aging memory reasons but also trauma-disrupted-encoding reasons.... but fuccccck man I can only imagine.