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eupheme · 14 hours

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— on the fence [into the fire, part ii]

part i | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 3.8k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, restraints, sex for favors, oral (m), exhibitionism, spanking, biting, hair pulling, light choking, sub/dom elements, PiV, radiated creampie

a/n: hi! I had a couple ideas I wanted to explore, which turned into a mini-series. I have them all mapped out & I hope to have them up for you soon! 💖

“Why don’t you show me again,” He husks, “What you’re so good at.”

Your breath catches - eyes flicking warily towards the door, but he’s quick to call you back.

“Hey, now. Eyes over here.” The Ghoul snaps, “You need to worry ‘bout me more than anyone out there.”

Or - the Ghoul gets you out of your Vault Suit

You’re not sure you like the look of this town.

It sprawls wide and low across the desert, the inhabitants gathering in the shadows to escape glare of the sun. A low buzzing murmur that carries with you through the streets.

It feels suffocating, after the open miles before.

Following the dark figure of Ghoul, as you wind through the streets. Partly because you have to - that leash still pulled tight, wrapped around a fist.

Partly because you want to stick close, always.

“-don’t need you slowing me down.” The Ghoul gives the rope a yank, and you scowl, “You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

Your frown softens. His words still just as harsh, snarled out. But they’re a far cry from before.

Before, when you were certain he was going to hand you right back over to your Vault, in spite of how far you’ve come. Something significant passing in the journey through the desert, as he had taken what you wanted.

The taste of him has since faded, but he still lingers.

“Gotta earn your keep, too.” His head turns, eyeing you from beneath the brim of hat, “You good at anythin’?”

Unable to help it, you smirk - a brow raising. He scoffs in response, eyes narrowing.

“Anyone can be good at suckin’ cock, sweetheart.” He drawls, unimpressed, “’m not so bad at it, myself.”

Your lips part in surprise and he’s the one that grins, now.

The Ghoul picks up another bounty here. A shady, alley-way deal - keeping you close to his heels as he snatches the faded paper contact off a tattered board.

Running into another pair looking for jobs - a fresh scar splitting across the nose of a man who tries to start a conversation, before quickly retreating.

“Fuckin’ amateurs” muttered in reply to your heavy, silent judgement.

The client is tracked down for more information, after. Wasn’t hard to find the man with cage over the lower half of his face. Spikes that scream Raider with the way they jut through his clothes.

Fifty caps for the “goddamn no-good thief” that wiped out his stall in the night, taking every last bullet and can of cram. Last seen about two days ago, heading north.

Dead or alive, the client doesn’t care.

“Did you see ‘em?” The Ghoul frowns, “What they look like? Give me somethin’ to go off of.”

“Course I did,” The man huffs, “Looks just like me, don’t he? He’s my own damn brother.”

You can’t contain your own sideways look in disbelief, only to see The Ghoul returning it.

He bargains for a hundred, and gets it.

It’s hard not to wonder if he had taken your bounty this way. If your face had been scrawled across a piece of paper. Exchanged in a no-nonsense, disconnected way.

How much had your life been worth?

You never asked him. It’s something you’re not sure you even want to know.

The rest of the afternoon is spent stocking up. Caps exchanged for some more ammo. A couple bottles of watery chems, shoved deep in his bag to join the others.

A way the ease the cough that rattles him every few days. The smallest bottle kept out, wrenched open with a tight fist.

It snags at you - the way he swallows it like ambrosia the second he steps away. Gasping and groaning as if it’s air he needs to breathe.

“I’m good at medicine,” You tell his back - following again. Memories of the Vault pushing their way to the surface, “Could make that for you, if we find the stuff. Wouldn’t have to dilute it.” You almost run into him, with the way he’s gone still. The tilt of his head, a single sharp eye piercing through you under the brim of a hat.

Shifting over your shoulder. Narrowing.

His hand fists in the collar of your jumpsuit instead, hauling you down the nearest alley and into the shadows.

“Hey!” You protest, your back knocked against the wall. He cages you in, knuckles pressing into your jaw with his tight grip.

The vial is pinched between his fingers, dangled in front of your face.

“You can make this?” He confirms.

You’re able to confirm it now, never quite getting a good look before. RadAway. It would be simple, compared to some of the stuff you’d had to cook up.

“Get me to a lab, some supplies,” You nod, “And I will.”

“Huh.” He’s close - you can’t help squirming in his grip, as he considers you, “Ain’t that something.”

A second, before his grip eases - but he doesn’t let go. Your bound fists rest against his chest, but there’s no force behind them to drive him off.

“Could’ve just asked.” You huff, “You don’t have to man-handle me.”

He almost smiles - his voice coming low, with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t I?”

It flusters you, how his body presses against yours. Your heartbeat kicking up a notch, your chest brushing his with each short breath.

His thumb sweeps, ghosting against your skin. Those sunken eyes dropping to your collar, with a frown.

Another glance down the aisle, before they’re dragging over you - voice lowering.

“Need to get you out of this suit.”

His words make stiffen in his arms, a sharp inhale of anticipation.

“Not so smart, are you?” He husks, his gaze dragging from your parted lips, up to your eyes, “Runnin’ around like this. Downright advertising you’re a Vaultie, when someone’s lookin’ for you.”

He’s not wrong. He tracked you down easily enough. You nod is small, a pang of regret as his fingers drop - as he steps away.

“Come on, then. I know a place.”

The place is an old saloon, the windows blasted out over two centuries ago. The gutted insides filled out with a patched-up bar, the mended tables and scattered chairs filled with patrons. Rooms to rent lining the first - and second floor - if you were brave enough to risk the staircase.

A few stalls set up alongside a wall - a barber ran by a Mister Handy with a looping stutter, the second by another Ghoul. Her few racks are filled with a patchwork of fabric, all in stained and faded patterns.

He gestures, a tilt of his head at the racks, “Pick something out, quick like.”

You’d gape at him, if you weren’t afraid he’d change his mind. Serious about your suit - you’re quick to grab a shirt in your size with only two holes. A pair of trousers, a rip at the knee.

“This ain’t for you.” The Ghoul clarifies darkly in your ear, “This is a trigger-happy town. Don’t need to be wasting my bullets.”

You hum in agreement - undeterred by his tone. The package clutched to your chest as he hands over a couple caps. Stuck over a full two weeks now in the same suit - you’re itching for the soft cotton against the skin.

Turning to leave, but then you’re halting. A couple of the patrons look familiar, hovering just inside the door. Something about that scar-

You’re trying to recall, in the crowd of people you’ve seen today - when a hand clamps down on your shoulder. Wheeling you around as the Ghoul turns to the shop owner.

“You got a room she can borrow?” There’s a change in his tone, almost a sticky-sweet edge to his drawl.

It must work - you’re shown to what used to be an old parlor room. An array of broken chairs, a heavy wooden table. The wallpaper torn and faded, the shades of cream long stained a dull, dirty yellow.

He fills the doorway - an arm propped against the frame, and you hold your wrists out to him dutifully.

You’ve worked at the knots before, to no avail - only to scowl now, as he undoes them easily with one hand.

A moment of silence hanging then, as you give him a pointed look - rubbing at sore wrists.

“You gonna leave so I can change?” You ask, “I’ll just be a second.”

The Ghoul steps forward instead, pulling the door shut behind him. An audible click, as he thumbs at the lock.

“Oh, I don’t think so, darlin’.”

A heat flares to life in your cheeks, “You’re staying?”

“That’s right,” He sinks into an old loveseat, propped up on concrete blocks near the boarded-up window, “Can’t leave you alone in a place like this. Fuckin’ vultures would swoop right in.”

You hesitate, watching him warily as an arm slings across the back, legs stretched out against the floor. If you didn’t know better then you think it was something almost akin to concern in his tone.

Or then again - he might just want to keep your bounty to himself. You had hoped you were past that, but-

“What?” His tongue pokes at his cheek, tone taunting, “Gettin’ shy again?”

The clothes are dropped unceremoniously on the table, your Pip-Boy following. A glare, as you reach for the zipper of your Vault Suit, starting to yank it down.

“Hey, now.” His hand raises, “Slowly. Got it?”

There’s an immediate urge to resist, to test him - but then, you’re catching the look on his face.

It’s hungry, beneath the brim of his hat. You start to feel like you did in the desert, and then the alley - intrigue, and desire, and an ache from his words, all melding together.

So, you take it slow. The zipper slipping from your throat, to breasts, then belly. A roll of your shoulders as you slip your arms from the tight sleeves.

His eyes follow, lingering on each inch of bare skin that’s revealed.

“Turn around.” He growls when you reach your hips, and for him - you do.

Bending at the waist as you unlace your boots and step out of them. Back arched as you wiggle, pushing the suit down past your knees. Down soft legs that part, so you can step out of them.

A glance over your shoulder, then. His head tilts, eyes sweeping from your ankles to fix on the crux of your thighs. They press together on their own, a thrill at being on display for him.

He catches you looking, his hand lazy as it drops to his lap. A lift of his hips as he adjusts, palming himself. The other hand leaving the revolver shotgun that rests on the cushion next to him.

Crooking two fingers at you, silently beckoning you over.

You fit between thighs that inch wider. His hands curl on his lap, before he’s slowly peeling his gloves off. Warm, against your hips, biting into your skin.

“Don’t make ‘em like you above ground anymore,” He idly comments, a flatness to his tone that betrays nothing.

Soft and smooth skin. You wonder if he’s thinking about ruining it - sinking his teeth in and taking a bite. Leaving a mark that you’ll carry.

You think you’d let him.

His grip dents your skin, before his hands are dropping. A heated look thrown your way, as his face tips up to yours.

“Why don’t you show me again,” He husks, “What you’re so good at.”

Your breath catches - eyes flicking warily towards the door, but he’s quick to call you back.

“Hey, now. Eyes over here.” The Ghoul snaps, “You need to worry ‘bout me more than anyone out there.”

It sends a heat rushing through you, knowing that he’s right. You’re locked in a room with the most dangerous man in the city, and it does something to you.

A boldness, in the way you reach behind. His growled out “fuck” when you let bra loosens - joining the blue and yellow suit on the floor.

The wood is rough under your knees. Letting your hands wander, lifting his hips while your work open his belt. Drawing down the rusted zipper.

You grasp at his hips, tugging the faded fabric until he’s free. Fingers tracing over thighs, just as rough and reddened at the rest of him. It’s still not much, but it’s more of him than you’ve ever seen.

Bare beneath the stained pants, cock already thick and full where it curves against his hip. All from just watching you - perhaps a strange thing to be proud of, but fuck, you are.

Your hands curl around his knees, as your head dips. Taking more time than you did before. Lips pressing against the taut base, as a hand twists in your hair again.

“Come on and thank me, sweetheart.” He growls - urging you upward, “Gettin’ those clothes for you. Make it worth my while.”

It’s different this time. A familiarity in the way your tongue presses against the flushed head. The taste of the salt on your tongue, before your lips are part around him.

A soft groan, when he’s filling your mouth again. You’ve thought about it often since last time. Wondering when he would have you on your knees again. If he’d want more, the next.

Your heartbeat thuds between your thighs, with the shift of his hips into your mouth - chasing his pleasure.

An urge to make him feel good. Without thinking - your hand wraps around his shaft, as your head eases back.

“Easy, now.” He grits, though his eyes are fixed on how your fingers curl around him. How it pumps, squeezing him with spit-slick fingers.

Jerking him into a mouth that parts so prettily for him. Your other hand slipping against his thigh, with feather-light brushes. A short inhale before you take him deep again, your fist sliding down to the base.

The next time you pull him from mouth for a breath, drool stringing from his cock to your lips, he hears himself growling out, “Stop.”

You’re being too tender, and he finds that he can’t stand it. Should have kept you bound, like last time.

The Ghoul’s fingers bite into your chin, your mouth glossy from how you swallowed him down.

“I’m taking you this time. Know you’ve been just aching for it.” He husks, his thumb pressing against your lip. Watching your tongue peek out to taste it, “Go on. Get up, and get your ass over to that table.”

Your desire nearly eclipses everything else. Pushing on his thighs for support, crossing the three steps to the side of the table.

“No,” He follows - the gun clattering on the table top, brought over from the couch. His hands at your hips, guiding you until you’re facing the door, “Right here, sweetheart. I’ll be keepin’ watch.”

It has you remembering where you are - that you’re just supposed to be getting changed. Wondering if you should worry that you don’t care - the thought of piping up, having the risk of losing this chance and denying pleasure again has you quickly adapting.

A hand presses at the small of your back insistently, bending you over it. You can feel him against the curve of your ass, sticky against your skin.

“Cross your wrists,” His thighs shift against yours, as you fix your hands that has flattened against the tabletop.

Making it easy for him to grasp at them with one hand - stretching them further, pressing them against the wood as he kicks your thighs further apart.

Leaving you on tip-toe, arched against him.

“Look at you, listening.” He almost coos, with another lazy rock. His cock shifts, fitting between your thighs, nudging against you.

“I think-” You start, but it’s punctuated by a moan, “Think you just like tying girls up.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it,” He drawls, “Though I don’t discriminate. Theres just something ‘bout havin’ you like this-”

The Ghoul leans over you then, his grip tightening. Pinning you firmly between him and the table, unable to do more than squirm as his free hand slips between your thighs, cupping you.

It’s the first time he’s touched you like this, and your muscles string tight - trying not to buck into his palm. Against fingers that rub against your clit, pressing the sticky fabric to your skin.

“Fuck.” He rasps in your ear. Nails bite into your hips, as he tears the fabric down to your thighs.

Coming back to press against your bare cunt, fingers slipping against your folds. You’re unable to help the soft whimper as he parts you, two fingers teasing at your entrance.

“Please,” You whine, as he pets against you. Smearing your slick up to your clit again, his fingers parting just as he reaches it.

His cock presses against your leg, thick and stiff. A roll of his hips until it’s pressed snug against your cunt - jutting between your thighs just below his hand.

“Your pussy is downright leakin for me, sweetheart,” He growls, “You need it that bad?”

You whine, your head turning to look - watching how he arcs over you. That blown-wide look in his eyes again, as you nod.

There’s a split second as his hand leaves you, before it’s cracking down on the meat of your ass. You gasp in shock as you go still beneath him, the pain unexpected and swirling with your heady need.

“Say it out loud,” He barks out, “Tell me just how much.”

Your skin stings, his fingers twitch before he kneads roughly at the flesh - the burn of it akin to way you ache for him.

“I need it,” You keen, “Need your cock. Want you to fuck me-”

The words cut off - a rough hum of approval before he’s lining himself up, a hand curving to grip your hip. The other flexes around your wrist, before he’s driving himself deep with a single, powerful thrust.

Your cry is loud, this time. Low and rough, pushed from your lungs as your pussy makes room for him.

“Fucking christ, you’re tight,” He grunts, unable to help the shallow buck of his hips, “Better than my goddamn dreams.”

It makes you moan - the gritted-out admission not lost on you.

Even with how wet you are, you still feel like you’re stretched wide. An ache radiating through you, sparking to life as he inches out, only to plunge deep again. The table bites into your hips, back arching as he sets a rough rhythm.

The sharp twinge starting to fade, as you begin to accommodate him. Growing accustomed to the heavy weight of him inside you, the steady stroke against your walls that has you starting to clench down around him.

Your breathing grows shorter, faster. Face turning to bury in the curve of your shoulder, muffling the moans that are pushed from you - until his hand is leaving your hip, twisting in your hair with a sharp tug.

Forcing your head back, his grip anchoring you.

“Don’t think so, darlin’. Know you saw those eyes on you,” He’s lost the steady edge to his voice, words turning rough, “Go on, be loud.”

The Ghoul’s hips pound harder, the rough texture of his cock stroking deep. Each sending a current through you, leaving your fingers and toes flexing, aching for just a little bit more.

“Saw you come in with me. Show ‘em who you belong to.”

“Fuck!” You cry, wishing you had a name to scream. Unable to muffle your ragged breath, the moans he pulls from you.

It fills the room, melding with the slick punch of his cock into your wet and needy cunt. Better than before, because his hands are on you now - leaving your hair, blunt nails dragging down your back. Ghosting across your hip, where your skin presses into the wood.

“Touch me.” You beg, again, “Let me touch myself, I can’t-”

His hand withdraws, and you whine - backpedaling. Afraid that he’s going to pull from you, finish himself across your back or your ass for asking.

“Please. Fuck, please. Don’t, I’m so close-”

He groans at your plea through clenched teeth.

Releasing his grip on you, only for his hand to slide to the base of your throat. His other arm looping beneath you as he hauls you against him, flattening against your ribs.

Palming at a soft breast, as you’re pulled up and pressed flushed to his chest.

“Listen to you, miss manners,” He grins - teeth bared, “That’s more like it, honey.”

The bandolier cuts into your skin, the wood into your thighs. And change in the angle that has your cries growing louder as his cock pounds against a soft spot inside you. Warm breath ghosting against your neck, deep rumbling growls in your ear.

Everything fades, growing hazy. His fingers tighten, but not enough to fully choke the air from you. An implication - your own hands wrapping around his wrist to anchor yourself to him.

You can hear him inhale you, the scrape of teeth against your skin above the heavy press of his fingers. Salvation in the way the hand splayed beneath your chest drifts lower, his voice smooth in your ear.

“This is for listening,” He husks, “You understand?”

Relentless, when his fingers press against your clit. Slick and circling until you’re grinding into his touch, meeting the hard slap of his hips.

The gasping chant of “fuck, fuckfuckfuck, please-” turning into mindless whimpers, his rough rhythm growing sloppy.

“Goddamn, you feel good.” It’s a ragged sigh, “Feel your tight little cunt squeezing me. Gonna make a mess, sweetheart?”

It sounds muted, layering with a ringing white noise. Your nails bite into his wrists as the swiftly building tides breaks. Almost missing the sweet growl in your ear.

“Let them hear how a pretty thing like you sounds coming on a cock like mine.”

You do, with the next swirl of his rough fingers - the sound broken as he rips it from you.

Bearing down around the cock that fits so deeply into you, with each blissful pulse of your release. Forgetting about the rest - about the outside world - as your nerves alight with pleasure.

His hand drops from your throat to brace against the table. Bending you flat again as he feels you flutter and gush around his length, crushing you against the top as blunt teeth close against the pulse point of your throat, biting down.

The sounds of his own orgasm muffled - a ragged groan as his cock throbs, as he fucks himself deep into you. Tasting the salt of your skin as you yelp, clenching around him - milking him until your walls are coated with his spend.

He hadn’t meant to - but the urge to pull from you had wavered the moment he buried himself in your cunt. Abandoned completely, after feeling you come so sweetly around him. An instinct lingers even now - to enjoy the soft press of your body against his, your warmth.

You shiver as his lips brush your neck, the closest thing to an apology as you’ll get - before he’s pulling away from you, leaving you clenching and empty.

A ragged hand slips between your thighs as you prop yourself up on your elbows, catching your breath. Pleasure still radiating from your core as fingertips swipe through the come that is just starting to leak from you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He laughs - the sound ragged, with a flash of yellowed teeth.

“Guess this means you better start cookin’.”

The Vault Suit is left beneath the table, a crumpled up reminder that you’re happy to leave behind.

Your cheeks burn as you leave the saloon - the strangers from before cleared out. A definite wobble to your steps - something that The Ghoul certainly notices, the low tilt of his hat hiding the curling pull of his lips.

Outlining the path towards the next bounty as you find your way out, guessing where you might find a lab along the way.

And it’s only as the city starts to fade, that you realize -

He never bound your wrists again, after.

I have the brainrot for this man for sure! Thank you for stopping by & reading 💖 (and I have also been reading so much about the new chem the Ghoul takes! For plot & smut reasons - I am going with RadAway, haha)

#please mind the tags!#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout tv series #fallout #cooper howard

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littlespoonevan · 16 hours

Note

I watched the first three seasons of 911 back when that was all that had aired and just didn’t keep watching after the break between seasons for whatever reason. I also didn’t really get buddie, I just thought it was a beautiful friendship. I’m now on a rewatch and just got to the end of season 4 and boy am I all in, Buck’s reaction to Eddie getting shot and the aftermath really made me get it. Anyway, I was wondering if you have any fic recs for a buddie newbie? I’m probably gonna speed through the rest of the show in a few days and need something else to occupy me hahah

hey bud, welcome back to the world of 911!! 🥰 okay so i have some previous fic recs that i've posted here and i also have 489 bookmarks on ao3 which you can have a scroll through here (i only ever bookmark something for rereading or reccing purposes so can confirm i've read and loved them all)

but i'll do my best to make a somewhat cohesive list below of some of my personal faves. i have no doubt i'll probably leave some out accidentally but they'll definitely be in my bookmarks so 100% check those out too!! ❤️

The Nearness of You by allisonRW96 / @homerforsure

Eddie reassured himself that he could do this. Other teams coming in were probably going to be staying at the same hotel in the same double rooms and it was very possible that none of them were going to be having sex. Or even lying awake at night thinking about it. Or: Buck and Eddie go on a work trip.

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania / @hmslusitania

“We’re here for our grandson,” Helena says. “Chris is still sleeping,” Buck says. “I meant, we’re here to take him back to Texas,” Helena clarifies. “Yeah,” Buck says. He’s too tired, way too tired to be tactful. “Over my dead body.” -- An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

To Build a Home We Deconstruct Our Rituals by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels /@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

After the shooting, Eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. Like who will get his assets if he dies. Who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. What might happen if his family contests Buck's guardianship. Luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak: Marry Buck.

standing on the brink of emptiness by woodchoc_magnum / @woodchoc-magnum

In which Eddie is struggling in the aftermath of being shot, learning how to take care of himself and realising he's in love with Buck; and Buck is dating Taylor, taking care of Eddie and Christopher and trying to figure out why he's so goddamn confused about everything.

across our great divide (a glorious sunrise) by catchingpapermoons

“We’re working on it,” Maddie explains, shooting Chimney a look. He nods seriously. “In couples therapy.” “Huh,” Eddie says, and then he thinks about it. "Do you think Buck and I would benefit from couples therapy?" — or, Eddie gets Buck to come to couples therapy with him.

darling, the future's better than yesterday by rarakiplin (gmontys)

Eddie, ten years younger, in this awful 2010, blinks up at him. He's still sitting slumped on the curb, and for a second Buck thinks he might tell him to fuck off, but then his eyes fall shut and there’s something — aching and painfully vulnerable in the bend of his mouth, the faint tension in his brow. “My…um, girlfriend, I guess. She’s pregnant.” “Holy shit,” Buck says. - or, buck deals with some wonky dimensional/time travel and then breaks up with his girlfriend. eddie, obviously, is involved.

i'm here (i’m yours for the taking) by farfromthstars / @buckactuallys

“Everyone!” Around forty heads turn, and Buck shifts on his feet uncomfortably at the attention. “This is my old friend Buck and his husband, Eddie.” “Uh,” Buck makes, turning to Eddie with wide eyes. Eddie's looking just as stunned. “Connor, I think you got–” He cuts himself off when Eddie wraps an arm around his waist. ~ at the winter wedding of an old friend, buck and eddie pretend to be married to each other. the plan has no weaknesses, obviously, not even mistletoe or anyone’s secret feelings… they call it the season of giving i'm here, i'm yours for the taking

Your Fingerprints Smeared on My Heart (Lead Me Back to You) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

In 1880, Evan Buckley of the arriviste set is sent out west to oversee his family's railroad and recover from a broken heart - and meets Eddie Diaz, cowboy. When fate tears them apart, they make a promise: find each other again. In 2018, Buck walks into his fire station in Los Angeles - and meets Eddie Diaz, new recruit.

no kingdom to come by waywardrenegades

Family, FaceTime, guilt trips, phone calls, church, heart healthy meals, and learning how to let yourself be happy. Whatever that looks like. or; when his father experiences a health scare, Eddie flies to El Paso.

when i was shipwrecked (i thought of you) by catchingpapermoons

Buck walks toward Jee-Yun’s room, still talking, and Christopher trails after him, asking excited questions in response, and Eddie’s smile grows. He wants this forever. Everything, every part of it; Buck, Christopher, and him—that’s all he needs. And— Oh. Oh no. He shuts his eyes for a moment, inhaling sharply. He’s looking at Buck, and feeling something strictly not platonic at all. or: Eddie needs to learn how to let himself feel, and one step at a time, he learns how to do just that. (And he falls in love with Buck along the way.)

i don't swim and you're not in love by hattalove / @hattalove

She turns to Eddie and says something else, but Buck is busy fighting the headrush he gets at the sound of Ana Flores calling Eddie and Christopher 'the boys'. Like they belong to her already. God, what’s wrong with him? What is this? or, eddie cooks, chris domesticates a slug, and buck tries to figure out why he hates his best friend's girlfriend. to everyone's immense shock and surprise, it goes badly.

everything's coming up milhouse by hammersmiths / @bucktommys

LAFD Updates (@L*A*F*D_Metro) LAFD Alert: Red-level traffic on Gardiner Road this morning. If you are trying to get into the city centre consider taking Westerley Lane. buck 🔥🔥 (@firebuck) so true bestie or, Eddie mans the LAFD Twitter account. Buck tries to be supportive.

said i couldn't stay, but it's different now by hattalove

“I think,” he says, watching Karen pull Hen out onto the dance floor, their eyes never leaving each other’s, “I think I’m just—sad.” Maybe. That feels like a close enough word to describe this gaping maw right in the center of his chest. It’s only really there sometimes, taking little bites out of him, easy enough to ignore, but today is worse. “About being single at a wedding,” Eddie says, not a question. Buck shrugs. “Sounds stupid when you put it that way.” or, the one with the four weddings (feat. a drunk karen wilson, shania twain, a single cheerio, and some confessions over cubed fruit).

cause i'm tired of sleeping alone by rarakiplin (gmontys)

Buck goes on dates now. Not often, and never with the same girl twice in a row, but he goes on dates. And the thing is — the thing is, Eddie can’t be mad about that, because he goes on dates too. - or, five (ish) times eddie and buck go on dates with other people, and one time they go on a date with each other

so far from being free by allisonRW96

"That’s Daniel. He was our brother. Buck doesn’t know what to do with the past tense. He never had a brother. He’s always had a brother. He gained one and lost one in the same breath and it feels impossible. But even if Buck was capable of doubting Maddie, the truth of her confession is evident in the way it throws every facet of his childhood into sudden perfect clarity. That yawning, arctic absence. The unnamable fear. The impenetrable target of his parents’ approval that he was never, ever going to be able to hit. That they didn’t want him to hit. He has a brother. A dead brother who has haunted Buck’s steps for his entire life."

don't let the tide come and wash us away by writerforlife

Buck develops a relationship with the ocean, avoids talking about the day Eddie was shot, realizes he might be in love, and drives. Order may vary. (a fic for the "Buck is going to break all the way down in season 6" truthers)

dance, for all that we've been through by catchingpapermoons

The Los Angeles Ballet’s 2022-2023 season ends with a bang with their fresh take on a ballet staple, Swan Lake. Artistic Director Bobby Nash is in his eighth season with the Los Angeles Ballet, and it has flourished under his direction. However, his associate, Eddie Diaz, is the one whose reimagining of the choreography has caught our attention... (or, Eddie Diaz moves to L.A. to restart his dance career, and ends up choreographing a show, finding a family, and falling in love. Not necessarily in that order.)

I'll Scrawl it on Every Wall I See by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

When Eddie joins the 118, he and Buck don't exactly hit it off on the right foot. Or continue to walk on the right foot. In fact they kind of can't stand each other. Good thing they each have a beloved anonymous pen pal to share their daily woes with, someone completely unlike their insufferable coworker. Or, in which Buck and Eddie love each other before they know each other, and know each other before they love each other. When Eddie joins the 118, he and Buck don't exactly hit it off on the right foot. Or continue to walk on the right foot. In fact they kind of can't stand each other. Good thing they each have a beloved anonymous pen pal to share their daily woes with, someone completely unlike their insufferable coworker. Or, in which Buck and Eddie love each other before they know each other, and know each other before they love each other.

never felt this way before (yes i swear) by withoutthetiger

It’s the summer of 2022, when Buck no longer wants to be called Evan, and it only occurs to his parents to mind. It’s after the pandemic – or so they say – and before whatever hell will befall the world next, when Buck can’t wait to join the LAFD in September, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever meet someone as gently strong and fiercely protective as his big sister. It’s the summer he goes with his family to the One Eighteen Ranch & Lodge. *** A Dirty Dancing AU, set in Texas in 2022, featuring a whole lot of familiar faces in a not so familiar place.

Fragile lines (and wasted time) by Mellaithwen / @mellaithwen

“Hey Buck,” Christopher says a little shyly, before reaching out to grab Buck’s foot through the hospital blankets—shaking it in the same way he’s woken his father up on many a bleary-eyed morning. The familiarity of the gesture makes Eddie’s head spin. But of course, there’s no response from the comatose man on the bed. “I thought you said he was sleeping,” Chris mumbles, angrily swiping at his cheeks, and Eddie’s already broken heart shatters all over again for whatever hope his son had just lost when his expectations were so cruelly dashed. . While Buck sleeps, and dreams in the aftermath of the lightning strike, Eddie tries desperately to hold himself together.

Don't Take the Money by HMSLusitania

“You know, being stuck here isn’t actually the end of the world,” Chimney says, coming up to the table and picking up one of the smoke detectors. “It just feels like it, Buck. Trust me, I know.” “I’m pretty sure it might actually be the end of the world,” Buck says. “Considering this is the sixth time I’ve lived this day.” Chimney stares at him for a beat and then his eyebrows lift. “Wait, are you like – dude, are you in Groundhog Day?” OR The post-lawsuit time-loop AU literally no one asked for.

keep your eyes on the road by iriswests / @fcntasmas

Buck used to speed through yellow lights; now they’re his favorite part of the drive. -- or; a glimpse into buck and eddie’s developing relationship, told through ten moments stopped at a traffic light

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind. +++ [Eddie is the newest firefighter at the 118. Buck is the ghost haunting the 118. Unfortunately for both of them, Eddie's also a witch and needs to put Buck's spirit to rest, because that's what witches do. Turns out, Buck's spirit? Super not interested in being put to rest. Very interested, however, in flirting with Firefighter Diaz, who is just trying to survive his candidate year. (Also turns out, Buck? Super not dead.)

as lucky as us by hammersmiths

One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier. “I mean, I get it,” Buck’s saying, overhead, and Ravi’s knee-deep in literal human crap and even he can smell that shit from a mile away. “You and Tommy have a lot in common.” or, Ravi continually suffers as a third-wheel.

#anon #asks #911 related #buddie fic rec #happy reading anon!!!#like i said this is only a tiny list in comparison to the amount i've read and loved

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biboomerangboi · 8 hours

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My friend was watching the show for the first time and they brought up a misconception that I think we see a lot in fandom. So I want to talk about The Gamblers Den and specifically this scene in particular:

My friend genuinely wondered what Hua Cheng would do and then when they heard his explanation they were even more confused:

They basically messaged me saying, wait Hua Cheng would have made the bet. He bets people’s lives and some how Xie Lian is okay with that. How???

And to anyone else who’s thinking the same thing or falling for the Demon King vibe Hua Cheng is trying to sell here I am here to tell you, you have all been duped.

What’s import to understand is that Ghost City actually came from making one of Xie Lian’s ideas work:

Xie Lian is talking about a specialised market here, a place where the common people couldn’t just stumble into without reason and that’s what Ghost City is and The Gambers Den is the foundation of it. While Xie Lian didn’t say hey go gamble, Hua Cheng is taking a risk and playing into his greatest strength and then showing of for his crush is the most dramatic way possible when talking about it.

For Hua Cheng the house always wins! Literally. Or at least what he wants the bet to be will always happen. His luck is just that good. If the gambler wins it’s genuinely because Hua Cheng let him.

In the Den he is acting as Judge and Jury with Xie Lian as his moral code but he can’t just turn down the deals. If he does then these people could go to less safe options (looking at you Qi Rong) to get what they desire which negates the reason he built Ghost City in the first place.

Hua Cheng has to let these people play by his rules if he wants to follow his Gods wishes. So he has to be creative and look at loop holes, phrasing and Xie Lians most important teaching finding the third path.

For this moment specifically giving the options I think Hua Cheng would have taken the ten years of his daughter’s life. Why you may ask? Well the phrasing is easier to manipulate. While the eradication of his competitors is pretty well laid 20 years of his daughters life is pretty vague.

Option 1) Hua Cheng could take her away from her shit father and put her in an apprenticeship and marry a man of her choosing since her hand is now her own to decide since Hua Cheng doesn’t want it.

Option 2) She has to work in Ghost City for 20 years and is married to Yin Yu in name only (because Hua Cheng can’t have a wife at all or he won’t win Gege) then gets pleasantly divorced and giving a severance payment after 20 years.

Option 3) He could decide life is a vague term and after she dies she has to spend 20 years in Ghost City and matchmake a future marriage between her and another ghost.

Option 4) He could decide what she has to do with the next twenty years of her life which could include an actual good marriage and education. Where she has to worship his shrine and be only his devotee for 20 years.

Option 5) He can literally say I’ll collect when I decide and never cash in.

He can do anything because the wording is so fluent and for Hua Cheng debater and Civil God Killer it’s probably easy. He’s not a demon king, he’s a crafty trickster spirit basically a fae lord.

He’s playing the system and he’s winning that’s what Xie Lian figured out and why he supports it. He knows Hua Cheng well enough even back then to trust that he would make the right decision because he believes in Hua Cheng and he’s right too.

#Hua Cheng literally tore out his own eye to spare innocents because of Xie Lian he’s not messing around here #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #hua cheng #xie lian #hualian #heaven official's blessing #tgcf meta #Hualian meta #Hua Cheng meta #heavens official blessing #zee rambles #zees 2am posts

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freezingmcxn · 3 days

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The way you describe Toby is so slap-able. He’s reminds me of that one kid in school who would just do anything to annoy you no matter how hard you try to ignore them, like closing your laptop while you’re working or turning it off, throwing small things at you that might not necessarily hurt but are disruptive enough to get a reaction, insulting you in such a specific and out of pocket way, and repeating the action that finally made you crack over and over because they thrive on watching you hold back on the desire to strangle them. Is it for attention? Does he just like pushing limits? Does he actually want you to hurt him or is he just that annoying? Is this another case of ‘boys being boys’? Is being annoying a crime worthy of the electric chair? We’ll probably never know, but the fact remains that he will 100% make it your problem if you are even remotely in his vicinity. I can’t help but be genuinely curious what fuels this menacingly mischievous behaviour, and why he’s decided this is the best way to achieve whatever he’s trying to get out of being that way. Maybe it’s just entertaining and he just genuinely doesn’t give af, but as a people pleaser I can’t wrap my head around it.

(I’m just a girl in the world! Why can’t I just be a girl in peace?!?!?!)

How I treated my version of Toby Rogers (his emotions and actions towards others)

Notice I said my version, this isn’t really canonically accurate so don’t say “he wouldn’t do that” it’s how I wrote/interpret him

I wasn’t gonna answer this because I’m not writing for creepypasta anymore but…here I am, you intrigued me and made me wanna talk about him and the subject of that behaviour in general.

On the topic of creepypasta, people have wanted to ask me about things to do with my headcanons, and my own opinions, how I made them etc, you can ask me that I will answer on here, and on here only.

I used to be like you and I’d always wonder why people did such stupid shit in school, acted out etc.

I found it frustrating and irritating like how you described. But I’ll tell you one thing, I 100% don’t get irritated by that anymore.

There’s always reasoning for peoples actions, no matter how much you down play it to them just being annoying assholes, you always lead it back to something.

It can be as small as wanting to impress someone, or even just to seem cool.

People seek validation in numerous ways and for numerous reasons.

Although “attention seekers” can be annoying and confusing you should always take into account that something might be going on at home, in their head, in school etc that you don’t see or know about.

Toby was abused. Toby had mental issues.

Try deal with that for a day, a week, a month, a year, your whole life.

He always attracted attention whether he wanted to or not, the only reasoning behind my headcanon of Toby wanting to push limits is because of projection I suppose.

People pushed his limits, you can only push someone so far, before they completely break. You can only make someone so hurt until they act upon violent thoughts and hurtful words.

When there’s so much build up of material it’s eventually going to cause an avalanche, apply that to a build up of repressed emotions such as anger and sadness.

Those feelings are very explosive and can be physically and emotionally violent.

How my version of Toby acts (his menacing mischievous behaviour) is merely a mirror of his deeper feelings, whether he means to be a dick or not, he gets the gratification of being able to inflict that pain and hurt onto someone else, someone different, someone that’s not him, it’s temporary release.

You could say it’s sadistic, or you can sympathise, I leave that up for interpretation because it’s interesting to see peoples views change once they see a “bad” character was a previous victim to something heinous.

To make it easier to understand think of a leech.

Leeches suck blood from other organisms as they feed off it.

He’s like a leech, he sucks the happiness and joy out of other people’s lives and in return he gets the happiness he thinks he lost by seeing them suffer.

Now, I say “happiness he thinks he lost” because it’s artificial in my eyes, someone else’s pain being a source of your happiness is not true natural joy, it’s only a temporary happiness and you have to be more and more violent and resourceful as the source (person) distances themselves and eventually leaves.

Another thing to add is he cant deal with his own emotions so he deals with other peoples, he can control how other people feel,

Toby wants the power and control his father made him lose.

So yeah, that’s my thought process behind why Toby pushes people/ is a dickhead. I hope I explained it in an easy enough way, I like looking into things on a deep level.

#slenderverse #hcs #moon responds #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #realistic #headcanons requests #ticci toby headcanons #character analysis #ticci toby creepypasta #ticci toby #toby rogers

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frozenjokes · 2 days

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There Are Many Ways To Deal With The Awkward Tension Of Reconnecting With An Old Friend. Beating The Shit Out Of Each Other.. Is A Way

and also there’s mermaids

“Bdubs! Hello, hello, what are you up to today?” Scar laid across his bed, kicking his legs as he watched the trail cams sitting at his desk. There was a lot of shuffling on the other end of the phone, so Scar waited patiently, letting his mind wander. It had been a week since The Incident at the cove, but Mumbo still hadn’t resurfaced. Scar didn’t blame him of course, Mumbo was the flighty type and Scar himself would have been scared shitless if he had been there (and who knew what they were talking about; Scar’s cameras didn’t have sound), but Scar couldn’t keep himself from worrying.

He had driven out there the moment Etho left, of course he had! Grian made some excuse, as if Scar couldn’t tell when he was lying, but it didn’t matter, because Mumbo was back, and Scar didn’t need to be babysat anyway. Unfortunately, Mumbo hadn’t been around, nor had he been there the next day when Scar had made the trek, so instead he settled on watching the trail cams over the course of the next week. Of course, Mumbo hadn’t shown up, not even once. And Scar reviewed all the footage, even from when he was asleep or away from home- it wasn’t a crime to be excited about your friend, alright?

In the meantime though, since he couldn’t just watch his cameras all day, Scar spent most of his free moments terrorizing Etho.

“Scar! You’re on speaker, I’m watering my plants. Might be a little feedback, I’m moving around. As for plans, not much, but this is going to be the next hour of my life, so, there’s that,” Bdubs mused, and there was a lot of feedback. When Bdubs started to fill his watering can in the sink, Scar couldn’t even hear a thing.

“Perfect! I was just wondering, is Etho home?”

Scar guessed Bdubs didn’t hear much of what he said over the water, but Etho’s name was enough of a clue, Bdubs yelling across the apartment to where his roommate was probably lounging on the couch. “Etho? What do you want me to tell Scar?”

Bdubs shut the water off, and Scar heard the tail end of a groan. “That I’m not here. Bdubs, I told you that is always the answer, you do not have to ask me every time.” There was a bit more grumbling, but Scar couldn’t make it out.

“You might’ve changed your mind. I don’t know,” Bdubs continued, undeterred, “And I got two new plants I wanted to show him, I need help with names.”

“Why would you ask Scar of all people- his names are awful.”

“Hey!” Scar yelled to be heard, but he was deftly ignored.

“I like Scar’s names. They’re dumb, but always kind of sweet, y’know? And when I look at them and remember, it makes me smile.”

Scar preened, cutting in before Etho got another word in, “Why thank you! Yes Bdubs, I would love to come over and look at your plants. Can I invite Grian?”

The surprised silence was a little bit painful, but didn’t last long, “Grian? Sure, I don’t see why not! You guys talking again?”

“Ah- kind of. We’ve been stuck a little bit at the ‘sending cat videos over Instagram’ stage of things for about a month, but we’ve seen each other one or two times since then. Last week actually, we hung out for like an hour. It was nice.”

“Oh no.” A distant Etho said, and after a bit of feedback, Scar heard Bdubs respond sharply,

“Oh no, what?”

Scar cringed a bit, but Etho didn’t seem bothered, an accusatory edge to his voice, “I bet Scar tried bonding with his estranged friend by telling him about all his conspiracies! Just a week ago, that’s when this mermaid business started. Neither of us have even met Grian!”

“Scar wouldn’t do that.” Bdubs defended astutely, Scar following up with his own placating Noooooooo! to which Bdubs turned on him immediately. “Scar! You did not start sharing your Etho conspiracies with Grian, did you?”

“I would never! I would never, Bdubs, you think so little of me!”

“I am uninviting Grian. I can not deal with two idiots interrogating me about random bullshit. Mermaids, spies, aliens- offensive, by the way, Scar, nor was I grown in a tube.”

“I didn’t say you were an alien, just abducted at a young age! Also, that’s what a tube-grown clone would say, just you wait until I find your doppelgänger. I have a feeling you don’t remember, implanted memories and such, but once I get enough evidence you’ll see. Also you can’t uninvite Grian because I didn’t call you. I called Bdubs. And Bdubs invited him.”

“Bdubs! Uninvite Grian.”

“Oh..” Bdubs said, “But I’ve heard so much about him, I really would love to meet him! And you know I’d just love to show off the apartment, it’s been ages since anyone has come over, and so much has changed! Actually, I haven’t even seen most of my friends in like a month. You know, we need to do more group hangouts. I’m going to plan something. I’m going to do it right now.” Again, Bdubs turned on the sink to fill the watering can, and Scar missed 90% of what he was saying, though he did catch an exaggerated groan from Etho.

“Great! I’ll be right over! Unless you wanted to pick me up?”

Bdubs shut the sink water off. “I don’t. It’s a two minute drive, you’ll be fine.”

“See you in ten, then! It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

Bdubs scoffed, and Scar could hear the eye roll over the phone, “Enjoy, then.” Scar smiled, hanging up without another word, and gathering his things for the walk over, only glancing a normal amount of times at his monitor before slipping out the door. He lifted his phone to call Grian, but lost his nerve and texted him instead. They’d talked about this last night, so it wasn’t a surprise or anything; Grian had said that Scar clearly wasn’t any good at needling any information out of Etho, impatient as he always was, but Scar didn’t think Grian would have the tact for this kind of thing. Grian disagreed, and the arrangement was made.

Grian was utterly taken with the idea of a translator, a sentiment Scar didn’t entirely share. It would be nice, yes, and Scar would really love to know the things Mumbo had to say, but he was not optimistic about Etho agreeing to do something like that- he wasn’t even sure Etho knew the language at all. Despite him and Mumbo seeming to get along, that could have just been solidarity between the species, and even though Etho did just randomly show up as a human out of nowhere one day, Scar wasn’t entirely sure if the time before that was spent solely as a mermaid. There could be more than one mermaid language! He and Grian didn’t know anything at all, really.

And if all of these things lined up perfectly (which Grian seemed to think they would), getting Etho to do anything was still a fucking chore. Etho was a man of habit. Once he decided he liked something a certain way, he never wanted to change, and a lot of these little habits could be massive deals like: leaving the house! Most days, Etho did not leave the house, doing freelance work that facilitated that lifestyle (game testing/design/other programming work- Scar didn’t quite remember). When he did leave the house however, he only wanted to do so with Bdubs, holding Bdubs’ hand (his emotional support Bdubs; Etho’s words, not Scar’s), literally going nowhere without being within a few feet of Bdubs, as if the ground might open up and swallow him whole if his roommate strayed out of sight.

And it wasn’t entirely Etho’s fault. He was largely visually impaired, in part due to his albinism, and in other part due to the old injury that spanned across his right eye, leaving him mostly blind and practically devoid of any hand-eye coordination. Bdubs met him in a vulnerable time, so he’d kind of latched on, afraid of most other people for quite a long while, so Scar did understand, he did. However, sometimes Etho’s stubborn mannerisms could be very frustrating, especially since he was often opposed to any and all efforts to find him other accommodations.

Scar had been trying to convince him to get on the waitlist for a service dog for years (among quite a few other things), and that he would even help him train one from scratch (something Scar had always been interested in doing, and he had connections that could help him out), but Etho just wouldn’t budge. Bdubs really loved the idea, and the apartment they’d moved into a couple years ago had been explicitly picked because it allowed dogs, but alas, Etho was Etho, and whenever he and Bdubs made even the tiniest bit of progress to convince him, he would double right back weeks later.

This aversion to leaving the house did not, however, stop Etho from fucking off by himself constantly, which drove Bdubs crazy more than anyone else. If Etho was feeling nice, he’d give about a day’s advance notice, but half the time Bdubs would just come home from work to a note and an extremely unspecified time frame of when Etho would be back. That was part of the reason Bdubs wanted him to have a dog so badly; he really worried when Etho would go off by himself for days at a time, especially when he seemed to be so dependent on Bdubs so often. Though, Scar got the sense Bdubs was just as much an emotional support as he was a physical one, and told him as much on bad days when Bdubs couldn’t quite get out of his own head. Maybe that’s part of why Scar was so frustrated with Etho so often. It didn’t feel fair to Bdubs.

Still, what did Scar know anyway? Etho had been getting a bit better with his agoraphobia as well as general fear of literally everything, and in the past year he’d even gone out alone with Scar or Cleo; mundane things like taking a walk or grocery shopping, but monumental all the same. In hindsight, maybe the reason Etho was so opposed to a service dog was because of the part time mermaid business; he couldn’t exactly take it into the water or take care of it when he was away. Maybe the responsibility was too much pressure? Still, surely he had some control over when he was or wasn’t a mermaid; there had been someone else, someone he was coordinating with. Scar hadn’t known Etho had any other friends. Somehow, this felt just about as monumental as learning magic was real- maybe that was mean, but it was true. The stranger had been dressed oddly as well, though the robe was likely because mermaids didn’t really wear clothes. Pants probably wouldn’t end very well when you’re growing a tail.

He didn’t get much more time to think before he was at Bdubs’ and Etho’s apartment, taking the elevator up after he was buzzed in.

“Hello there!” he announced himself as he walked through the door, greeting Bdubs with a hug and Etho with a wave. He left Etho to whatever he was doing on his laptop, letting Bdubs sweep him away to the new members of the household. Scar named the cactus Squishy, which both of them found hilarious, and the vine Maple, for no other reason than it felt right. Grian arrived just a few minutes later, just as Etho was making sandwiches and Bdubs and Scar were chatting at the kitchen table, but Bdubs got up to greet him, his natural smile coming through. Scar’s own smile fell strained, his fingers curling against the grained wood as he fought to stay seated. Maybe Etho heard the squeak of his chair or his nails against the table, because just a moment later he was behind Scar, setting a plate on the placemat in front of him, and trailing a hand over his shoulder as he returned to the kitchen island. About the extent of Etho’s physical affection, and a gesture Scar appreciated deeply. After setting down two more plates; one for Bdubs and one for Grian, he sat by Scar’s side, leaving the chairs opposite from them open.

Bdubs and Grian didn’t join them immediately, Bdubs eager to give his tour, so Scar found something else to talk about while they waited, Etho offering his own sparse input while he played solitaire instead of eating, the cards laid in place of a plate. Scar wondered absently if Grian’s heart clenched like his did when he heard the other’s voice, or if there was just something wrong with him. He noticed Etho staring from his good eye, though had trouble reading him. Etho never did emote very much, and in combination with the mask, it wasn’t easy. On the other hand, Scar was sure Etho saw right through him.

“How do you like your sandwich?” Etho asked, turning back to his game, though it was quite obvious Scar hadn’t touched it.

“I was waiting,” he said, feeling a bit awkward, but Etho shook his head.

“Don’t.” There was intention there, so Scar didn’t fight him, getting the sense Etho was trying to tell him something he just wasn’t understanding. Maybe he looked less like a kicked puppy when he was eating. Or maybe Scar was just reading too much into it, and Etho just wanted to know how he liked the sandwich. But then again, Etho didn’t ask a second time.

It wasn’t long before Grian and Bdubs joined them though, Scar not noticing at all that Grian chose to sit across from Etho instead of him, but he didn’t get the chance to linger, not with Bdubs’ bright conversation and Etho’s small banter. It was nice, homey.

“So.” Etho started suddenly, Bdubs’ prior story hardly having ended before he spoke up, “When’s the interrogation? You’ve got me on the edge of my seat here,” he said, visibly relaxed as he continued his game, “Still on mermaids, or is it something different? It’s gotta be an event to have invited a partner in crime.”

Grian looked surprised, giving Scar a startled look that made him laugh, “Of course it’s still mermaids, we know, Etho, so it’s best if you admit it now. You’ve got a part time ocean job! That’s where you’re always disappearing to, obviously.”

“I- seriously? Scar, you told me I lack subtly! I didn’t think he knew yet!”

Etho laughed, and Scar did as well, giggling over his mostly eaten sandwich, “I did not say subtly. I said tact. How else am I supposed to get Etho to admit he’s a mermaid if I don’t tell him I think he’s a mermaid?” Scar began eying his glass of water, inching his hand toward it, but faster than a flash, Etho caught his wrist.

“Not again.”

“Not- Scar?” Grian squeaked, Bdubs scoffing in turn.

“Please don’t make another mess, I do not need to ask our neighbors to borrow a mop for the third time this week. If you aren’t going to finish it, water goes in the sink.”

“It was an important experiment!” Scar threw up his hands, Etho’s still attached to his wrist, “The first time could have been a fluke! He’s got to turn into a mermaid somehow!”

“If only it was that easy,” Etho said dryly, and laughed when Grian gaped at him, elbowing Scar, “Your friends are so gullible.”

Scar rolled his eyes. “Okay, in Impulse’s defense, you really played into the abducted by aliens bit- he was concerned! He really thought you were being experimented on!”

“Yeah,” Etho sighed, content, “That was hilarious.” He stopped for a moment, letting go of Scar’s wrist to take the glasses of water to the kitchen island, “This is too dangerous, actually. I will now be removing the temptation.”

“He doesn’t trust me,” Scar side eyed Grian with a small smirk, satisfied when Grian let out an exasperated groan.

“Is this what you’ve been doing all week? Just pouring water on Etho’s head? No wonder he hasn’t admitted anything! Is- do you guys just do this constantly? Make up reasons for his disappearances? No wonder he’s not taking you seriously! Have you even brought up the trail cams yet?”

The entire room froze, like time had completely halted. Bdubs’ eyebrows furrowed, giving Scar a confused look, while Scar put his head in his hands. “..No tact.”

“What?” Grian looked briefly panicked, his voice pitching up an octave, “Did I say something I wasn’t supposed to? What- Scar, why didn’t you tell me? What else haven’t you said?”

Etho hadn’t turned around from his place at the island, just standing there, staring stiff straight ahead. “What cameras, Scar?”

Ah. Yeah. The exact kind of bad tone Scar was really hoping to avoid today and also forever.

“Scar,” Bdubs said darkly, always quick to the defense, “You have not been stalking Etho, have you? You have videos of him?”

“No- It’s not like that, Bdubs, I was watching something else- they’re trail cameras, they’re for animals, the fact that Etho was on them was just chance! I promise I wasn’t deliberately looking out for anyone, it just happened that-“ Scar grit his teeth, struggling to fix this before Bdubs actually caught wind of what was going on, “There’s nothing actually on them. I was hoping to get some cool footage of the deer in the forest preserve by the lake, the one without trails or anything. Just saw Etho through one of them, thought it was an odd coincidence. I know you’re very particular about your privacy, Etho,” Scar shot Grian a sharp look, Grian not getting the message in the slightest and bristling through his panic.

“You didn’t tell me-“

“Sorry.” Scar interrupted him through gritted teeth, “I shouldn’t have shown anyone. Just got excited, I wasn’t thinking. Thought you met one of my friends, that’s all.” If there was any doubt about exactly what Scar and Grian had seen before, now there was none, as obvious as the tenseness in Etho’s back when Scar said the words out loud. Bdubs noticed it too, of course he noticed. Scar just hoped he didn’t pick up on the hurried lie.

“You should go.” Bdubs said, just as tired as he sounded angry, but his voice softened when he turned to Grian, “I’m really sorry. Now’s just a bad time.”

“I understand,” Grian got to his feet, looking relieved for an excuse to run, “I didn’t realize.. I’m sorry. Your apartment is lovely, truly, and lunch was great as well. Thank you.”

“Scar.” Bdubs turned a glare his way, and Scar was up and away in the same moment, passing Grian on his retreat to the door. For a moment, Scar considered taking the elevator, then came to the conclusion that nothing would be worse than getting in a small box with a furious Grian. Unfortunately for him, Grian followed him down the stairs, and not even his own long legs could keep him far enough from his wrath.

“Scar.” Grian’s venom was a quiet hiss, potent enough to knock him over, “What was that? Seriously! What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me you hadn’t said anything! I didn’t realize you were just poking fun all week! I thought you were serious about this!”

“I thought- I thought- I don’t know! I thought we were just going to hang out, have a little fun! I thought you might want to meet Etho and- I don’t know! I didn’t expect you to say anything in front of Bdubs, come on! I didn’t think I had to tell you! I just thought you would know that!”

“You don’t think Bdubs knows?”

“I- Grian, of course he doesn’t know! What gave you any impression he did?”

“You- seriously!? You’ve been telling me all week about this friend that disappears or locks himself in the bathroom for days at a time and you don’t think his roommate who you tell me he’s extremely codependent on has any idea? I don’t believe that at all!”

“Etho is very protective of his privacy, Grian, and Bdubs respects that. I promise you, he doesn’t know. Etho takes his secrets to the grave.”

“I just don’t believe it. I don’t.”

“Come on, Grian!” Scar didn’t mean to shout, but he wasn’t very sorry either. Grian only came down harder on his heels, nearly tripping him down the stairs.

“What? What?” Grian growled, stomping as he went, “This is insane. You’re just expecting me to accept that Bdubs asks zero questions? That Etho just doesn’t eat when he’s locked himself up? You told me Etho can’t drive, so how does he get from place to place when he’s got to go to the water?”

Scar seethed, and it took all of his self control to keep walking. “It’s nice to hear you know more about my friends than I do, Grian. If you must know, it’s been quite a point of contention for them for years! Maybe you have to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong to get information out of your friends, but mine actually like to talk to me, so I’d appreciate it if you believed me when I tell you for certain Bdubs doesn’t know, and even if I didn’t explicitly tell you not to say that shit, maybe it should have been common sense!” Scar stepped hard onto the lobby’s landing, huffing as he strode toward the front entrance, but was stopped short as Grian grabbed the back of his jacket, yanking hard.

“So this is my fault now? Go on, Scar, if you’re thinking it, then say it. Turn around and say it to my face. Say it!”

“What’re you gonna do,” Scar scorned, pushing Grian off his back, “Throw a fit in the lobby? Hit me? You don’t even care about Etho, you’re just interested in what he can give you. People like you are the reason he has to hide.”

“I hope you’re not implying what I think you are, Scar.” Grian’s eyes were dark, but Scar couldn’t have given less of a fuck.

“Come on,” Scar sneered, “Don’t think I didn’t notice. The minute you stopped looking at Mumbo as a way to make a quick buck, you stopped caring altogether. You didn’t even want to see him when he came back! He’s not worth your time anymore. No one’s-” Grian reared back, and Scar didn’t get to finish before Grian nailed him in the jaw, sending him stumbling. And fuck if it didn’t feel good.

Scar saw red, lunging forward and grabbing fistfuls of Grian’s sweater before shoving him to the ground. Grian did not go down easy, kicking forcefully at Scar’s legs, then getting ahold of his shirt and dragging him the rest of the way down with a strength Scar didn’t know he possessed.

“You hurt me!” someone wailed, and after a moment, Scar was pretty sure it was him, only nearly rolling out of the way as Grian threw another punch.

“I want to!” Grian shrieked in return, winding back, but Scar kicked him before he could finish, leaping on top before he could sit up. Grian battered Scar’s stomach with his legs, and Scar found himself wrestling blindly on the floor, clawing at skin and sweaters for any purchase at all. The ding of the elevator stopped both of them in their tracks. Scar was only aware he was on top, only aware his hand was raised when someone grabbed it, yanking him up and right out the two sets of front doors. Scar just let himself be dragged to his feet and away, bodily awareness returning slower than the time it took him to walk an entire block. He only realized Grian was trailing after them two blocks later. Them. Etho, walking so far ahead of him, the two of their arms were taut. He did not speak. He did not look back. Well. Scar was a little too in shock to do either of those things anyway.

Etho brought them to one part of the forest preserve close to their houses, the least populated part, typically known for its unkempt trails and thin walking paths with not much to see, so, perfect for being yelled at probably. Which Etho seemed eager to do, since they didn’t even get five feet onto the trail before Etho turned, still aggressively holding Scar’s hand. The few seconds he waited for Grian to catch up were some of the tensest in Scar’s life.

“It is just my luck,” Etho began, and Scar was pretty sure he’d never been more afraid in his entire life, “That I happen to know the two idiots in the entire country who’ve befriended a fucking mermaid.”

Scar didn’t say a word. Neither did Grian.

“Does anyone else know?”

Scar looked at Grian. Grian looked at Scar.

“No,” Scar said.

Etho sighed raggedly, shoulders falling, “Okay. Okay. I need you to tell me exactly what was on those cameras. And if you haven’t deleted the footage, you will. Actually, I’d like to go to your place and watch you delete it. I need. The peace of mind.”

Scar looked at Grian. Grian looked at Scar.

“Will one of you two just talk to me?”

Scar pursed his lips, looking at Grian. Grian looked right back. Scar glanced guiltily at Etho, then right back to Grian, and Grian looked-

“Scar. Scar. Tell me what you saw.”

“Uh-” Scar startled, finding this a little unfair since he had answered the last question, but Etho was very scary and looking at him expectantly, so there wasn’t much else he could do, “We saw you and Mumbo. The mermaid. And we saw you laying on the beach for a while. And then Mumbo came back, and you didn’t look so good. And there was that other guy-”

“So you saw everything,” Etho cut him off flatly, looking tired. Scar nodded feverishly, and beside him Grian did the same. Etho let go of Scar’s hand, only to put his head in his own. “What are the chances.”

“Do you speak his language? The same language as Mumbo?” Grian piped up, and Scar shot him a startled look, to which Grian glared back, to which Scar glared back, to which-

“Uhm,” Etho sounded confused, removing his hands from his face, “Yes? I imagine we grew up in the same place.. Don’t ask questions about where I’m from. Actually, don’t ask me anything at all. Don’t talk to me.”

But Grian lit up, eyes shining brighter than Scar had ever seen them, “I told you!” he shot back at Scar, who folded his arms, but Grian was not deterred, turning back to a frightened looking Etho, “Will you teach me? I want to learn it, I want to talk to him. I want to know what he’d say to us if he could- so you grew up a mermaid? You learned English! Could you teach him English? I- I mean we’re already teaching him, but it would be so much easier if you could help us!” Grian cut himself off, looking sheepish before continuing, “Is he- do you know if Mumbo’s actually a guy? I mean, I doubt he cares what we call him, but I was just thinking about that the other day, we don’t actually know.”

“I- no? No, no, and no, no, I am not doing any of that. Why do you even-? No. And Mumbo isn’t anything, we don’t do gender, but he did tell us he liked the pronouns you gave him, so hey, there you go.”

“I-I want to thank him! And I want to tell him I’m sorry.”

Etho stared for a moment, stunned, and Scar found himself similarly shocked, giving Grian his own wide eyed stare. “That’s.. Sweet,” Etho finally said, conflict creasing his brow. “Well.. thank you is,” ‘Thank you,’ “and I’m sorry is,” ‘Sorry.’ Etho snapped as he whistled, presumably in intervals where a mermaid would have clicked. “I guess I can send Scar voice memos if you want them, but full offense, I do not want your number.”

“What?? Why not!”

“I think you’re going to be very annoying.”

Scar snorted, and Grian snapped to face him, looking about two seconds away from committing manslaughter, but he seemed to calm himself down enough to speak to Etho again. “Okay. Fine. Then tell me how to say ‘I’m sorry I took advantage of your trust and tried to shoot you in the face.’”

Etho, deadpan, started to translate, but Scar interrupted him with a startled, “You did WHAT?”

“Yeah,” Grian said, the notes in his voice all casual. He looked at his nails, almost bored, “Came out right after he bit you. He had no idea. Wanted to know what it was I was holding.”

“I- I can’t believe you! And you never told me? What else have you done and never said a word about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Okay, enough of this, I don’t care,” Etho pushed between them in a forceful huff, “Scar, take me to your house. I’ll send you the thing for Grian later, and as an apology for screaming at each other so loud we could hear you on the fourth floor, you’re going to walk me home. And never talk about this ever again.”

“Okay, wait, I don’t actually want to say that to Mumbo-“

“Come on then.” Grabbing at Scar’s hand, Etho started to drag him the other direction, ignoring the offended sound Grian made behind him.

“I’m not just going to go away.” Grian huffed, following at Scar’s heel, “We have to walk the same direction. And I don’t agree to these terms either, I have quite a bit to say to you.”

“Annoying.” Was all Etho had to say to that, and Scar could hear Grian seething behind them. He wasn’t about to push his luck with Etho though and stayed quiet, walking at his side instead of awkwardly behind him. Grian (pointedly, Scar imagined) didn’t even stop when Scar and Etho turned off onto the street that led to Scar’s house, not looking their way or saying goodbye, and most definitely pissed off this didn’t go his way. Scar was glad for it. He was glad to be right. He was glad to feel ugly.

…

Etho stuttered to a stop when he reached Scar’s desk, and Scar only remembered now that he should probably feel embarrassed about this. Even Grian had been surprised and possibly a little concerned, but sue Scar for caring about his friends! Four cameras displayed on two separate monitors wasn’t even that many. It was like he was the only person on the planet that thought mermaids were cool!

“This is.. Wow, Scar.” If Etho was trying to hide how judgemental he sounded, he was doing a poor job, but then again, it was Etho, so he probably didn’t care to preserve Scar’s feelings. “This is always going?”

“Yeah.” Scar said shortly, sitting down to pull up the footage from the prior week, and aching at the thought of deleting it. And he would, obviously he would for Etho, it was just.. the first videos he had of Mumbo. It didn’t matter how grainy the footage was, it was Mumbo, and he was coming back, coming home to see them. God Scar wanted to see him. But honestly, it would probably be best for Mumbo as well if no photos or videos of him existed anywhere. The last thing Scar wanted was for something awful to happen to him. “Here it is,” Scar leaned back, showing Etho the sped up clip. In the end, it didn’t matter much if Scar deleted it; he’d already watched the whole thing like a hundred times, basically committing it to memory.

“You really did see everything,” Etho breathed, and Scar nodded numbly, chin resting on his hands as he watched. “I gave Mumbo quite the fright. I feel a little bad about it.”

“You should feel bad. He hasn’t come back.” Scar had to fight to keep his voice even, but Etho wasn’t stupid, looking a bit awkward as he shifted his weight.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I didn’t know. I mean, I really didn’t know, obviously, but if it helps you feel any better, I doubt he’ll be gone for long. He really likes you guys, was excited to show you all the stuff he brought up from deeper waters.” Etho paused for a long moment, staring at his hands. Earlier in the week, they had painted each other’s nails, and the paint on Etho’s was already chipping. He always did enjoy peeling it off.

“You could apologize yourself, y’know. Come out and see him, at least once.”

“Ehhh,” Etho shrugged his shoulders close to his body, his frown evident even through the mask, “I don’t know about that, Scar. I doubt he likes me very much anymore anyway. Mermaids can be jumpy things, and he was very kind, but nervous. He didn’t like Joel at all, which is reasonable; there’s not a single person on the planet that likes Joel, and that’s the way he prefers it. I just mean to say he probably associates the two of us now, and even if he liked me before, he probably sees me as a threat now. If you think about it, we kinda came in and trashed his safe place with a bunch of bullshit. He will not be pleased.”

“Joel.. The other guy? Your secret friend?”

Etho snorted, “Friend is a strong word.”

Scar frowned, worry creasing his brow. Etho seemed a little alarmed by the expression, but Scar spoke before he got the chance to backpedal, “Is.. Who is he, then? Is he..” Scar trailed off, searching for the right word. It was a little hard to get over how uncomfortable Etho looked before the change, and even afterwards, Scar couldn’t imagine it being anything less than painful, “hurting you..?” Scar decided on, and Etho looked away, back to the screens.

“It’s complicated. Joel’s a weird guy,” Etho didn’t look very much like he wanted to elaborate, but Scar’s supremely Unsatisfied With That Answer face seemed to convince him, “Joel is.. I don’t know. He lives on a small island off the coast, concealed from most human sights; maps, satellites, and such. I believe he was cursed, or maybe banished there at some point- even knowing him for so long, most of the details are unclear. I don’t even know if he was ever born, or just- made by someone else, messing with forces they definitely shouldn’t. All this to say, I don't think he has parents, and it's quite up in the air about whether or not he has a conscience either. He doesn’t really see the world or the people in it as anything beyond how it can entertain or benefit him. So when I ended up washing up at his shores, he thought he might be able to use me to escape. Get off the island, you know? He was half right.”

“Do I need to beat the piss out of this guy?”

“No,” Etho said, all too simply, “He’d probably just wipe you off the face of the Earth, literally. I don’t know exactly what he is, but he’s got some sort of power over the island. You’ll never see it, he would never let you, but the place he’s made for himself is beautiful. He doesn’t do much else besides terraform it and watch unsuspecting ships crash into it and laugh at them; really, he’s not a pleasant guy. Extremely arguably not human, either. I don’t know much about it, I’ve never gotten to meet his.. relatives. Heavy quotes there. Doubt they’d be very pleased that the embodiment of pure evil they created found a way to leave the little island prison he is confined to.”

Scar stared, pretending to understand any of that made any sense. “This all makes perfect sense to me.”

Etho scoffed a small laugh, “Welcome to the club. Imagine that’s your only exposure to ‘humanity’ for two years, and then you finally get out into the real world and realize that actually magic doesn’t exist anywhere and that guy that peeled you off the rocks was an outlier. Anyway, it was pretty cool to figure out people were nice. But yeah, basically, my understanding of what he did to me was split our souls? We share them, kind of, which means a whole lot of bullshit, but mainly it means that he doesn’t start melting every time he sets foot off the island. He doesn’t melt at all as a mermaid, though he’s just about as reclusive as it gets, so he hangs around anyway, terraforming the underwater bits of his island. Apparently there’s a lot of safeguards meant to keep him trapped there, but they don’t account for species changes. And no, I don’t know why I don’t melt. He thought I would for ages, but apparently spellwork attaches to people specifically, and doesn’t transfer over soulbounds? I don’t know.”

“You’re losing me here, Etho.”

“Yeah. That's about 80% of the reason I didn’t tell Mumbo anything. Because then he’d ask questions, and I’d just have to shrug my shoulders and say I don’t know, because literally, I do not know. I’ve just started accepting these things as they happen to me. It really doesn’t help that Joel is a compulsive liar. But I guess to kind of answer your question, no, this was not voluntary, and I have very little control over whether I’m human or not. Joel has too much power over me for me to call him a friend, but as a placeholder, it works. I wouldn’t go back though, if you were wondering. To being a mermaid. I’m happy, much happier than I was in the ocean; I just couldn’t quite find my place. And you guys have computers, seriously, that shit is awesome.” Scar thought he saw a ghost of a smile under Etho’s mask, but it quickly vanished, “Of course, my life is now in serious jeopardy, but if all else fails, I guess I’ll just go back to the island and live there full time again.” Etho shrugged, and Scar frowned, fidgeting.

“We aren’t going to tell anyone, Etho. I can promise you that, really. Neither of us have said a word about Mumbo- we both know what could happen. I don’t want either of you to be killed or sold off somewhere or anything, especially not you, god.” Scar paused, closing his eyes and bracing himself, “And I.. I really think you should tell Bdubs.”

“No.”

“Come on, Etho, just listen-”

“No. And that’s the end of it. I don’t care who it is or how much I trust them or even the extent they would go to keep this secret a secret, I will not take any risks. And Bdubs respects that, he respects that some things I’d rather keep to myself, so it’s none of your business whether I tell him anything at all. You don’t get a say, not when your life isn’t on the line. I have very little control over my life, Scar, and now there’s two more people out there that have more power over me than I do. So if you really love me, you won’t say a word about this ever again.”

“I-” Scar looked helplessly at his hands, unable to look Etho’s intensity in the eyes. “Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t ask again.”

Etho’s shoulders relaxed substantially, and he closed his eyes for a long while, silence slowly chipping away at the tension. Scar didn’t dare break it. Eventually, Etho did so himself, “And Joel’s alright. He’s not alright for you or anyone else, but he’s alright for me. I like him. He really likes me; a bit clingy, honestly. He doesn’t really.. he doesn’t know how to respect me as a person, but he’s trying. It’s easy enough to ignore. We get along, so it's nothing for you to worry about. But if it’s okay, that’s all I really want to talk about him right now.” Etho quieted, and Scar nodded, not entirely knowing what to do with this.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead, “I’m sorry this happened to you. And I.. I mean, I don’t understand it all, but I hope you’ll find a bit more power over your own life.”

Etho nodded, but in acknowledgment rather than agreement, “I won’t.”

There was nothing else to say. Scar deleted the footage without another word, showing Etho in every way he could manage that it was gone, not because the other asked, but because he wanted to. He wanted Etho to feel safe. Though, no matter how long Scar scoured his face, it was impossible to tell.

“Alright,” Etho stood a little straighter after it was done, “I’m going to head out now. I know I asked you to walk me back, but I actually think I’d rather be alone right now. Thank you, Scar.”

Scar blinked, surprised, “Are you sure? Bdubs wouldn’t mind driving over if you wanted him to. He’s probably worried, you know how he gets.”

“I want to be alone right now.”

And that was that.

The front door clicked shut as Etho exited, not even wanting to be walked to the door, and Scar was left to lay in bed and sit on everything he had learned. None of it made any more sense with the passing of time, and Scar felt so overloaded with information, he was finding it easier just to accept it all without question. My friend was a mermaid. Still is, but part time. He’s got some sort of magic bond with some freak that treats him poorly, but apparently they hang out just fine. Friend might be a demon. Those might as well be real. Magic is real. Kind of. Scar wasn’t sure if that one would process in his brain anytime soon. And how did this damn island work? If people disappeared on it, surely someone would notice eventually. Surely the government knew, or something. Maybe the government already knew magic existed. They must, right?

It kind of sounded like Joel killed people. Was anyone going to do anything about that? Damn, if Etho ever decided to talk about any of this stuff, that would be the craziest rage room session of all time. He wouldn’t, though. A shame.

At this point, Scar kind of felt like his brain was going to explode, so he simply stopped thinking about it. Unsuccessfully. Then he laughed out loud when he imagined trying to explain everything Etho had told him to Grian. Grian the control freak, who needed to know every detail in order to be satisfied, who would needle you for hours if that’s how long it took him to get the facts straight. Grian was a pretty good mediator among their many interconnected friend groups for that reason; he came with his own biases of course, but when it came down to it, he just wanted to get the whole story, and that was useful for working out miscommunications.

Grian. Nothing about him was satisfying. God, Scar was angry, he was so angry, and that felt bad, but so much better than being sad and awkward all the time, and suddenly Scar wanted nothing more than to be back on the dingy carpet of the apartment lobby, hissing and grunting and beating the piss out of each other; finish what they started. But he couldn’t exactly do that, so he took a shower about it instead, head resting idly against the tile as the water ran down his back. About an hour of that passed before he got bored of it, so he got out, not even remembering if he washed his hair, and collapsed once more onto his bed. The thought still hadn’t left his head. He eyed his phone dangerously.

Etho had sent him a text telling him he got home safe, no doubt sent after Bdubs pestered him to do so. Pearl had asked something about needing to buy some more supplies for the sanitation department at the zoo, which Scar okayed without even looking at the list. He opened Grian’s messages.

‘Are you sober?’ Scar watched the screen idly, eyes half lidded, but perked up a bit when Grian answered quickly.

‘yes? it’s 3:00 Scar’

‘why.’

Scar typed and deleted the message for five whole minutes, struggling to put his thoughts to words. Well. At this point, there was no sugarcoating this.

‘I want to fight. And then get very drunk. And then maybe fight again. And then throw up probably’

‘We didn’t get to finish’

‘would feel irresponsible asking if you were not sober’

‘how sweet’

‘I’ll be right over. I want to trash your house’

‘I did not invite you.’

Grian did not respond. Scar didn’t need to wait more than a minute before knowing he wasn’t going to. Fine then. Good to know he wasn’t the only person here that was fucked in the head.

And ten minutes later, Grian was knocking at his door. Knocking continuously, obnoxiously, until he seemed to remember Scar had a doorbell, and then he focused most of his energy on ringing that a thousand and one times. By the time Scar made it to the door, Grian had evolved his strategy to do both at the same time. Scar flung the door open to a smug looking Grian, and promptly slammed it in his face the moment he moved to step inside. The muffled yelp through the wall was deeply satisfying, and when Scar reopened the door, Grian was cradling his nose. Scar couldn’t help but crack a smirk.

“Not so smug now, are you?”

Grian opened his mouth to speak, once again moving to step forward, but Scar slammed the door closed again, pushing with his whole body in the case Grian tried to stop it with his hand, then cackled when Grian yelped a second time, his shoes scuffing on the pavement outside.

“You are SO childish!”

“And you’re a damn bore.” Scar began to open the door once more, but was surprised when Grian burst through it, grabbing Scar by the collar and yanking him down so hard their heads collided, both of them reeling, but Grian not letting go. The silence was long as they both recovered, heads still close enough that Scar could smell Grian’s ragged breaths.

“You.” Grian pushed out through gritted teeth, “Smell nice.”

Ah! So he must have washed his hair after all. “Just showered,” Scar said simply, and Grian sniggered, glaring through narrowed eyes.

“For me?”

“Not quite. Just had to after touching you, makes me feel dirty. Doesn’t matter how often you shower, you’ll never stop smelling like fish-“ Scar didn’t quite get to finish, Grian slamming him against the wall opposite of the front door, which, by the way, was still wide open.

“I wonder how long it’ll take you to start smelling like manure again. Guess we’ll find out when you start to sweat.”

“I suppose we will. Mind closing the door?”

“What, afraid someone’ll see you getting your teeth kicked in?”

“Yes, actually, I’d rather not have the police called on us, thank you very much.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Fuck off.” Scar shoved hard, and Grian stumbled back against the amour by the door, knocking the keybowl clattering to the floor. Scar shut the door, eying Grian smugly, “Did you really think I wasn’t letting you hold me? Come on G, you’re not that strong.”

Grian huffed, lunging for his arms instead of answering, and the next few moments were spent fighting over wrists, grabbing and pulling and yanking for any kind of control. Scar hit another wall, just barely tackling Grian under a punch. But Scar couldn’t quite drag him to the ground like he so desperately wanted, and fell hard as Grian kneed his stomach, stealing his air. Scar did end up getting his wish of taking this to the floor, but instead with Grian’s hands like vices around his wrists and the wind knocked out of him. Not.. ideal.

“One minute,” he wheezed, and Grian snickered, digging his nails around Scar’s wrists.

“Did someone get more than he bargained for?” Grian cooed, “You’d look so pretty with a black eye, don’t you think?” Grian raised his fist, but Scar just barely caught it before it could collide with his face, his own hand still smashing painfully against his nose.

“Aren’t you just a little flirt today?” Scar sneered, yanking Grian’s arm down and throwing the rest of him off balance, then kicking him into the opposite wall.

“No,” Grian grunted, gritting his teeth as Scar shoved him up by his arms, shoulders battering the wall, “I just tell it like it is. Whether or not you think it’s flirting is a you problem.”

“Alright,” Scar huffed, shaking out his hair. He lifted Grian off the wall and slammed him back against it, pinning him harshly against his chest, “Then I think you look quite nice yourself, hunched over and panting like a dog.” Scar narrowed his eyes, dark. “Just telling it like it is.”

Grian kissed him. It wasn’t nice, nor was it pretty, and Scar was too startled to even move against it, only jerking back after another moment.

“What the fuck was that?” Scar spat, new anger coiling in his gut, but Grian didn’t flinch, eyes narrow and even.

“Whatever you want it to be, I suppose.”

Well.

Scar had known the answer to that question for a while, hadn’t he? Grian’s lips were chapped, unpleasant to the touch, as he was sure his own were as well. But it wasn’t much of a problem, not as tongues collided, as Scar remembered every unpleasant sensation of making out with someone, still intoxicating all the same. Sick. They were both sick in the head, weren’t they? Scar was dizzy with it- actually, on second thought..

“Grian,” Scar breathed, forehead resting on Grian’s own, “We should probably.. get checked out by a doctor.. or something.”

“What?” Grian laughed, a breathy thing with little sound, “Like, for mental illnesses?”

“No, for concussions. But. Also that, probably,” Scar joined him in laughing despite himself, breathing heavily against Grian’s chest, and eugh, yeah no, he was definitely still dizzy, but at the same time..

“Maybe,” Grian’s lips grazed Scar’s cheek, settling around his jaw, still tender from when Grian had punched him. The bruise was dark the last time Scar had checked. “But I believe you promised me we’d get ‘very drunk’ earlier, and I haven’t forgotten. Where else have you bruised I wonder,” Grian mumbled, pressing a kiss to the tender skin. Scar whined, looking away, and Grian giggled, pressing light kisses to his throat instead.

“That’s.. dangerous.”

“You think I’m dangerous, Scar?” Grian pushed impossibly close, and despite being the one on top, Scar felt as trapped as if he’d been pinned.

“Well, yes,” he admitted, suddenly feeling a bit shy, moreso when Grian giggled against his neck, “I was still talking about the concussions though. And drinking. Y’know.”

“Hm,” Grian considered him thoughtfully, though it was a bit distracting to feel the vibrations against his skin, “You make a good point.” Grian paused, lips gliding to the corner of Scar’s own, “Then whatever you decide, I’ll follow. Personally, I’d love to wake up tomorrow regretting today.” Grian’s fingers trailed up Scar’s side, thumb brushing below his shirt and making him shiver.

“Likewise,” Scar murmured, letting Grian trail soft kisses across his jaw, “Well.. Let’s see where this goes, hm?” With the way Grian was looking at him, Scar was starting to get a pretty good idea of exactly where this was going, and he didn’t have a single complaint. “Yeah,” he sighed, closing his eyes, “Let’s make a mess.”

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