Summary: On a double date, Agent Javier Peña and Detective Tim Rockford are more interested in each other than in the bubbly blonde badge bunnies they're with.
WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit for smut. Mentions of drinking alcohol. MLM. BJs. Deepthroating. Semi-public sex. Restroom sex. Pena goes commando - this is canon, duh. Spit as lube. Anal fingering. Anal sex. Protected sex. If this ain't your thing, keep scrolling.
A/n: This is for the Pedro Pascal Pride Challenge hosted by @mandaloriankait 💙thank you for putting together such a fun and inclusive challenge! I had another one in mind to add but I haven't had the time, hopefully I'll get to it soon 😊
This is my first go at mlm fiction! I've written ffm and mmf fics, but never just guy-on-guy and I have to admit, I had fun with this 😏
Here we are - the Holster and the Tac Vest.. I wanted to write a pairing that I personally haven't read before, so Tim and Javi P were a perfect fit, pun intended. If anyone has any Tim x Javi fic recs, please send 'em my way! ❤️
dividers by @strangergraphics 👑
JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST
TIM ROCKFORD MASTERLIST
FULL MASTERLIST
Badge bunnies. That's what everyone calls them. They see a shiny law enforcement officer badge and get all wet and creamy for the man behind it. Tim Rockford has never really taken advantage of the charisma his status provides, even when a woman has been more than ready and willing. He's just not the type. He'd rather come home to a good woman, find her asleep on the couch waiting for him, their dog curled up at her feet.
But in a town like this a steady relationship is hard to come by. So he commits himself to his job and the very, very occasional fling.
Javier Peña was the one to convince him to go out. A DEA agent in town who was part of Rockford's new task force, Javier had a natural way with the ladies, out with a different one every night. Within a few weeks his exploits had become legendary among the rest of Tim's team. Now he's sitting across from the man, gritting his teeth as he glowers at Javier's perpetual smirk, his dark tousled hair, the aviators hanging on the front of his shirt which is already unbuttoned more than Tim would ever do. He can see the man's chest hair for crying out loud.
The woman sitting next to Javier is friends with the woman sitting next to Tim. You'd think they were sisters. Both blonde and bubbly, wearing too much lip gloss and too much hair product and way too much perfume. Tim has never known such flammable women.
"Rockford is the man in charge. Locally, at least," Peña says, raising his beer to the detective. "He's the hardass keeping us all in line."
"I hope not only his ass is hard," Tim's date giggles, her pink-taloned hands squeezing his bicep through his long-sleeve work shirt. He still has his suspenders on, despite Javier telling him to ditch them before they left the station.
Despite himself, Tim is more annoyed than intrigued. He shifts around in his seat, glancing around at the other bar-goers. His date pouts a little, looking to Javi as if he holds the answer. "It's okay, chiquita," he says softly, his thumb stroking her wrist. "Why don't you two angels go powder your noses?" he suggests, and he and Tim get out of their seats to let the women out.
Javi winks and waves at them before they disappear out of sight beneath the neon restrooms sign before his smile drops and his gaze hardens on Tim, still sulking in the booth across from him. "What the hell is your problem?" he hisses.
Tim snaps his head up, eyes narrowed and steely. "What the fuck are you talking about, Peña?"
"You! You're such a goddamn stick in the mud, acting like a pendejo when this beautiful woman is all over you, practically begging to ride your cock. What, you're not into women?"
"Fuck you." Tim's glare is lethal.
Javi mutters something like you wish and leans back in his seat. "Fine. If you want, I'll take them both home with me. Wouldn't be the first time. Just thought I'd share the wealth since you can't get any pussy on your own."
"I can get pussy any time I want," Tim counters, hands on the table as if he's getting ready to fight.
"Okay, man," Javi shrugs, calmly lighting up a cigarette, unaffected by his partner's ire, giving the ladies a smile as they return. "All prettied up for us, huh, dolls? How about another round of cherry margaritas?" He motions to the bartender.
"Gotta take a piss," Tim mutters, giving his date a tired smile as he gets up and heads towards the restrooms at the back.
He doesn't actually have to pee. He just splashes some water on his face, doing a mental countdown of how long he can get away with being in here. He leans over the sink, splashing more water onto the back of his neck, cooling his skin. He doesn't know how he started getting so hot.
Peña comes in, casting a casual glance over at the detective. "You good, man?" he asks, settling in front of a urinal and unzipping his jeans.
"Yeah," Rockford grunts, adding some soap and washing his hands. In the mirror he eyes the younger man, head bowed down as he stands at the urinal. Tim eyes up the man, checking out his broad shoulders, his narrow waist, and he swears he sees Peña's ass clench and unclench-
Shaking his head, Rockford turns off the faucet and heads for the motion-sensored hand dryer, which is taking longer to activate.
"You look pretty worked up," Peña says, washing his hands at the sink. "I could suck your cock for you."
Rockford hears the last part as if he's underwater. His mouth goes dry, heart pumping wildly. "What?"
Peña shrugs, finishing up at the sink and moving towards Rockford at the dryer. "If I suck your cock it might calm you down a bit." He gives the dryer a solid slap and it starts up.
"I'm not- I'm really not-" Tim backs away.
"Not what? Hard? Look down, my friend. You've been hard since I walked in."
Tim groans, not needing to look below his belt to know he's bricked up.
"It's just an offer," Peña says coolly. "I had a feeling you weren't digging that chica by your side tonight. Is that the reason you don't want to be here?" He walks Tim backward until he meets the wall and is effectively trapped. The younger man's smirk grows to a smile. "You were checking out my ass in the mirror, weren't you? And all night you've been eyeing me instead of the sweet piece of ass next to you. You think I don't know what kind of thoughts you have in mind?"
Rockford is speechless, staring at Peña's lips, licking his own as he imagines how they'd feel wrapped around his cock.
"You can tell me to leave," Peña offers. "Tell me to fuck off and I'll go, and we'll forget this ever happened."
This is a way out, a proposition to go back and just be work buddies again.
Instead, Rockford locks the door. "On your knees, agent," he says gruffly.
Peña's mouth fills with saliva as he eagerly unzips Rockford's pants and undoes the button, slowly revealing the detective's boxers: white with red hearts. "Just like the cartoons, eh?" Pena smirks.
"Shut.... up," he moans as the younger man palms him through the material.
"Dios mio," Peña mutters. "I thought I was pretty hung, but you're huge."
"Think you can take it all?" Rockford rasps.
"I guess we'll find out." Peña peels down the underwear and lets Tim's cock free, his girthy length bobbing up, the tip flushed red and already leaking precum. Javi's tongue laps up the pearly bead and grins when he hears Tim groan. "Ever had your cock sucked by another man?" he asks.
"None of your business," Tim grunts. "Put your mouth to work."
Peña complies, giving the crown a languorous lick and enjoying the detective's needy groan. He spits on Tim's rod, using his hand to stroke it to full hardness before descending his lips on Rockford again. Tim sighs, placing his hand on the back of Javi's head and Javi fondles his balls, looking up to see Rockford react. They're already big and swollen. Javi's sure to get a good, thick load out of them.
He spits on it, giving Tim's dick a few tugs, feeling him pulse and twitch in his hand. Javi's tongue caresses the length of it, from base to tip, tongue circling the crown again, teasing, wiggling his tongue into the slit at the top. Rockford groans, his blood on fire as he urges the younger man forward. His breath catches in his throat when Javi's lips wrap around him, taking him into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks.
"Just like that," Tim rasps. "Didn't know you were such a pro.."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Peña wears a shit-eating grin as he gives the older man's balls a light squeeze before taking him into his throat, all the way back deep, and Tim nearly blows his load when Javi gags on it. Though his eyes water, he holds onto Tim's thighs, covering his cock in thick saliva. He gives a pitiful moan as Tim's large hand presses on the back of his head, keeping him there.
Peña takes a big gulp of air when Tim finally releases him. His eyes are lust-glazed and dark as he meets the detective's similarly lecherous gaze. "I bet you don't have it in you to fuck me.."
Rockford bends Peña over the sink, turning the agent's head to give a sloppy kiss as he shoves the younger man's jeans down. He raises his brow when he sees that Javi goes commando.
"I don't like restriction," Peña says coolly. Tim grabs a handful of his bare asscheek and smacks it. "I think you just wanted to make it easier for me," he huffs in his ear.
"Grab the condom, it's in my front pocket," Javi tells him, and Rockford finds it, places it on the sink edge. He lubes up his fingers with spit and traces the rim of Peña's ass, watching the agent's face in the mirror. "Damn, you're tight.. and hot," he mutters.
"More," Peña moans, bracing the sink, biceps bulging with the effort. Tim obliges him, stuffing a second thick finger into Javi's anus. Javi bites his lip, letting out a sighing grunt.
"Need more than this?" Rockford mutters, nipping Peña's earlobe with his teeth.
"I can handle it.. can you?" The agent smirks at him in the mirror. In return Rockford pistons his hand, fingering him harder. "I'll give you more, god damn it."
He grabs the condom and rips it open, sheathes his cock with it before teasing it at Javi's ass. Javi's already spitting into his palm and jerking off, his face pink with exertion and anticipation. Tim lands another glob of spit right on Peña's ass and nudges in smoothly, pressing his forearm down on Javi's back as he bottoms out. They both gasp in relief and pleasure.
He moves slow at first, savoring the way Peña's hole tightens around him, sucking him in. "It's what you wanted, isn't it?" Javi's telling him, jaw hung open as he gets stuffed. "You've been thinking about it the past few weeks."
"Jesus. Anyone ever tell you you're a mouthy bottom?" Tim grunts, grabbing hold of Peña's hips and thrusting in deep, smirking when the younger man loses his words, just moans, gripping the sink harder.
The sound of Tim's balls thwacking against the backs of Javi's thighs is resounding in the small room, punctuated by their groans and sighs and muttered curses. Javi's stroking himself in time with Tim's thrusts, ready to spill.
Tim pulls Javi close as he comes, hips stuttering then stilling. Javi wastes no time as soon as Tim disengages, getting rid of the condom. "My turn, detective," he says, and Rockford goes on his knees to finish him off.
It's sloppy work, nothing like the precise and thoughtful steps he takes in his work. Rockford is all tongue and spit, barely intelligible, begging for Peña's come. Peña grabs his hair, pulling him roughly against him. His pubic hairs tickle Tim's nose as he keeps him there, a small taste of his own medicine from earlier. He thrusts in roughly a few times, throat fucking him until he comes, his hot white spend shooting into the detective's mouth.
"Oh shit, they're gone." Javi states the obvious as they emerge from the men's room, cleaned up but still a little disheveled.
"Oh no." Tim's voice is flat, relief flooding his veins.
"Think we should find out where they went?"
"Nah.. badge bunnies come and badge bunnies go." Peña leans against the bar, lighting a cigarette as he settles the bill. "Wanna come back to my place?"
"What do you think?" Tim grants him a quick wink before they leave.
warnings: yandere themes, stalking, possessive behavior, romanticized pining, scent kink, descriptions of violence and gore, blood, biting, NPC murder
divider by @/rosypotions
The second Sanji catches your scent, he knows he needs you. He hasn’t even seen you yet, but he’s intoxicated from the first breath.
His neck snaps up, like waking from a dream, to find you. He’d been lost in thought, eyes cast down from the crowd, planning his next meal. It’s almost time to feed again. Sweet and heady, your scent overwhelms him like no other has in his long life. He fights to keep his fangs retracted, an urge he hasn’t felt in decades.
There are a few others on the sidewalk, rushing to get out of the mid-autumn drizzle and gloom, but with his heightened senses, he’s able to single you out easily, even with your back turned. Stopped dead in his tracks, Sanji commits every detail he can to memory—not just your scent, but the color of your hair, your silhouette, the way you walk.
The car you drive away in.
Hands in his pockets, he keeps walking. He decides not to follow you. Not now. He hasn’t spent a lot of time in this town, partially because it’s a bit small for his liking. The lack of sunshine serves his purposes, but it’s hard to disappear here, when one needs to.
But now, that’s ok. Because there are enough dark corners where he can linger, waiting until you’re bound to appear. He’ll find you again.
He’d know your scent anywhere. He picks it up again in a dive bar on Friday night, the kind of place he only started frequenting in hopes of running into you. The town only has two or three of these places. Sanji figured he’d find you here eventually.
You’re accompanied by a group of other women, so he can’t get too close, but at least this time, he can see your face. You’re even more beautiful than he’s been dreaming.
From his vantage point in the corner, nursing a glass of cheap red wine because it’s the only thing on the menu he can stomach, Sanji watches you order a round of shots for all six of your friends. It appears one of them is getting married. When she tries to offer her credit card, you swat her money away. You’re generous, kind, perfect — everything he could have hoped.
You all take the shots together and cheer. This might not be your first stop of the night. Even though there’s no dance floor, you form a circle around the bride-to-be and dance to the overly-loud music playing.
Seeing you, smelling you again, makes Sanji’s fangs ache. His senses are full, almost uncomfortably, of you, yet it’s not enough. He wants to breathe you in like air. He wants to dump his wine down the sink. He’d never drink the stuff again if it meant he could have a taste of you right here, right now. He’s shaking with need, which is why he knows he can’t approach you—you’re in public, and he’s not sure he can control himself.
So he waits, allowing himself to acclimate to your scent. He tries to get used to looking at you for ten, thirty, sixty seconds at a time without glancing away, needing a break from the urge to feed. Slowly, agonizingly, it gets easier to bear.
A man turns from the bar, a beer in hand. He eyes your group—you’re loud, laughing, tipsy. His attention clearly caught, he leaves his barstool and inches up next to where you’re dancing, intentionally, so you bump into him. Sanji watches you apologize and try to move away, thinking it was your fault, but with a hand to your back, the stranger only gets closer. Sanji’s jaw clenches.
You reach for one of your friends. The man keeps talking. Clearly, you don’t know him. You twist away, still smiling, so polite. He follows. It makes Sanji sick.
With a shrug, you put your back to him, facing a friend instead. The man grabs your arm. You shake him off. Sanji smashes his wine glass on the table.
Someone with a broom and dustpan arrives to clean up the glass. Sanji, consumed by the commotion around him and the white-hot anger behind his eyes, is seconds away from flying across the room and strangling someone before he realizes your friends have ushered you to the door.
Blood trickles down from a cut on his palm and drops off the tip of his finger. Distantly, he hears someone asking if he needs to go to the hospital. Sanji doesn’t respond. All he cares about is the fact that you lock eyes with him, just for a moment, before stepping back out into the dreary night with your giggling, drunk friends. And then you’re gone.
Sanji mumbles something about the bathroom before pushing his way to the back door of the bar. Outside, in the dark alley, he leans against the damp wall. It’s quiet except for the rain, the bustle from inside choked off behind the heavy door. He looks down at his bleeding hand, a minor cut from the crushed stem glass he’s not worried about. Head tipped back, Sanji brings his hand to his mouth and licks the blood from his wound, pressing his tongue to his palm until it slows.
His own blood does nothing for him, quenches neither his thirst nor his desire. He wishes it was yours instead. You’ll have to wait for another day. But he does something dangerous and lets himself imagine it.
When he closes his eyes, he can pretend his lips are pressed against the soft skin of your cheek, your wrist, your neck. He can imagine you, moaning and gasping, your blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. You’ll taste like roses and good wine. He’ll hold you close, and you’ll never want to leave him. He needs it. If he doesn’t have you, he’ll die. He’ll do anything.
Once the bleeding stops, Sanji reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He lights one and places it between his lips, moves closer to the bar’s main entrance, and waits. Having something to occupy his mouth helps pass the time. He thinks of you, and how he can’t have you yet, but soon, he will. Until then, he has to protect you.
The next morning, the man who touched you is found dead in the alleyway next to the bar. The news reports that his neck had been snapped and his hands torn off, seemingly by the teeth of a vicious animal, thirsty for blood.
These are all fics I read and enjoyed in June! You can find my other fic recs here! There are 18 recs here in all and are in order by word count. Please let the writers know if you liked them by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!
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🌊 Leave Your Mark On Me, @kingsofeverything (E, 36k, a/b/o, alpha Louis, omega Harry, restaurants, chef Harry, manager Louis, bonding, smut, black market bond, a very cool au with a great premise)
🌊 Sisterwives, @jaerie (E, 32k, a/b/o, omega Harry, omega Louis, dub con, religion, cult, polygamy, brainwashing, mpreg, mating, non con, optimistic ending, please check tags and author’s note before reading this fic, an incredibly powerful look at life in an FLDS like cult and Louis’ emotional journey, vividly written and intense)
🌊 It’s the Climb, @lululawrence (NR, 25k, Hannah Montana au, small town, Tennessee, famous/not famous, fluff, pining, secrets, secret identity, songwriting, farms, horses, singer Louis, farmer Harry, such fun to imagine this au and was really well done!)
🌊 Lambing Season, @helloamhere (E, 24k, farm au, comfort, fluff, sad boys, hurt/comfort, meet cute, strangers to lovers, lambs, animals, so sweet and lovely, this rescue farm rescues more than just animals IM FINE)
🌊 Better Not Pout, I’m Telling You Why, @runaway-train-works (E, 24k, Christmas fic, boss/employee relationship, workplace relationship, fluff and smut, Harry still believes in Santa lol, this fic was a fun, fluffy read!)
🌊 the sanctity of patience, @scrunchyharry (T, 22k, royal au, historical, Neuschwanstein Castle, Germany, Larry Abroad, royal Louis, King Louis, arranged marriage, a beautiful story with gorgeous writing that I absolutely adore)
🌊 just one look (and i fell so hard), @disgruntledkittenface (E, 15k, Broadway theatre au, New York City, Larry Abroad fic, strangers to lovers, banter, flirting, fluff and smut, light dom/sub, such a sweet meet cute!)
🌊 Can’t Help Falling, @reminiscingintherain (E, 15k, summer au, Ibiza, Larry Abroad, photographer Harry, bar owner Louis, alcohol, smut, open ending, a fun summer fic!)
🌊 A Long Way From The Top, @jaerie (E, 11k, vampire au, Mt. Everest, Larry Abroad, vampire Harry, climber Louis, death, blood, masturbation, check the tags but this fic showed the writer’s knowledge of mountaineering with a slightly depressed vampire Harry and was somehow humorous as well in a dark sort of way haha)
🌊 come together, @bottomlinsons (E, 11k, uni au, one night stand, miscommunication, group project, awkwardness, tension, pining, smut, oh how I loved these idiots finally getting it right haha)
🌊 i was getting kinda used to being someone you loved, @werebothstubborn (T, 8k, fake relationship au, student video, friends to lovers, pining, light angst, loved this beautifully written pining)
🌊 Talkeetna, At Three Rivers, @alakeeffectgirl (G, 5k, small town au, Alaska, Larry Abroad, banter, romance, I loved this slice of life fic!)
🌊 Stealing Flowers, @lululawrence (NR, 4k, strangers to lovers, meet cute, Brooklyn, Larry Abroad, subway, humor, bets, mutual pining, I absolutely adored this funny, sweet fic, one of my favs of the year so far)
🌊 Nothing Can Come Between, @ham-palpert (E, 4k, Wanker’s Day fic, uni au, flatmates, porn watching, masturbation, accidental voyeurism, embarrassment, oh goddddd this had me fanning myself for multiple reasons haha)
🌊 Thumbing My Way Back to You, @13ways-of-looking (E, 4k, Wanker’s Day fic, canon compliant, angst, phone sex, masturbation, melancholic, lovely and a bit sad)
🌊 Thank God for Good Directions, @justalittlelouislove (T, 3k, farmer Harry, out of town Louis, small town, Georgia, getting lost, inspired by a country song, so sweet!)
🌊 your eyes on me (make me), @gaycousinlarry (E, 3k, Wanker’s Day fic, masturbation, friends with benefits, dirty talk, sex toys, hot damn meeep)
🌊 Paul Higgins, Please Come Home, @londonfoginacup (T, 1k, Wanker’s Day fic, masturbation, mutual masturbation, canon compliant, pov Paul, humor, fluff, crack fic, this was hilarious and everything I never knew I always needed)
Summary: Logan and Patton are moving in together straight after college. But as they argue about what to buy to fill their new home, they both start to question their decision.
Pairings: Platonic Logicality
Warnings: None
--
"Pweeeaaase, Logan?"
Logan Sanders truly cared for his best friend. They'd known each other since the first day of college, and Logan wouldn't have agreed to get an apartment with him after graduation if he didn't want it. But as the mere proposal quickly became a reality, he found himself becoming more and more unsure that the housing arrangement would sustain itself.
And in that moment, standing in a Petco at the center of a giant indoor mall, Logan was finally at the end of his rope.
"[WE’RE] not getting a puppy, Patton."
"Aw, come on, why not?" Patton begged. "[NO] one else but me will take care of it, I promise."
"You can't be serious," Logan said, rubbing his hands on his forehead. He turned to walk in the other direction, but Patton chased after him, wagging his finger.
"[STRANGERS] could come into our apartment in the middle of the night and try to rob us, and there'd be no one to keep us safe!" he warned playfully.
Logan spun back around to glare at him. "Patton, we live in a perfectly safe neighborhood. [TO] suggest that anyone would try to rob us is absurd."
"Oh, Logan," Patton tsked, pressing his face up against one of the cages. "[LOVE] just isn't something you could ever understand."
Logan put his hand up. "Don't go there," he said sharply. Patton bowed his head apologetically.
"[YOU] said you wanted to come to the mall with me to help buy new things," Logan went on. "I made the mistake of thinking you would actually be helpful. [KNOW], however, that if I had known you were going to be this ridiculous and childish I wouldn't have taken you along."
Logan paused for a split second, wondering if he'd gone too far. But no, that goofy smile was still plastered on Patton's face. "Aw, I'm just trying to give our new home a bit more of a comforting feel!" he insisted. "[THE] apartment would be so lonely without a sweet dog to cuddle with at night."
Logan crossed his arms. "Patton, you know full well that we'd get in so much trouble if we did that. [RULES] are rules--and they're not mine, they're our landlord's. I'm not letting you make a decision that could lead to us becoming homeless."
Patton sulked, but backed away from the cages.
"[AND] besides," Logan continued, "how can you promise to take care of a dog when we both have jobs during the day? Honestly, this is a terrible idea."
But Patton still wasn't deterred. "[SO]...I'm hearing a maybe?" he asked, leaning in with a cheeky smile.
Logan put his arms down and walked briskly towards the exit. "Alright, that's it, we're leaving the pet store."
Patton opened his mouth to protest, but without turning around, Logan put one finger up. "[DO] not fight me on this." Patton groaned loudly, but finally conceded and followed Logan out of the store, all the while dragging his feet dramatically.
Once they were back outside, though, Patton straightened up again, and Logan in turn got a little less irritable. "Now, onto our real errands," the latter said, dragging Patton into Target instead. "[I] believe we are in need of silverware, furniture, and bedsheets, primarily. Not toys and video games," he added pointedly.
Patton grinned and raised his finger. "[A] very wise decision, my friend! Although need I remind you that we should still eventually buy groceries as well," he said with a smirk.
Logan got the message perfectly well, and grimaced at the thought of Patton filling their apartment with junk food.
"[FULL] fridges mean full stomachs, which in turn mean happy and well-functioning adults, don't you think?" Patton went on. "Now, that said, should we buy bulk packages of Mac and cheese, or go the frozen pizza route?" he asked, stroking his chin dramatically.
Logan just stared at him, mystified. "...[COMMITMENTS] and responsibilities of the adult world mean nothing to you, do they?"
Patton's face returned to that playful sulk. "Aw, well, I don't think that's totally fair."
"[WHAT], so you think you do have a semblance of maturity?"
"Well sure, why wouldn't I?" Patton asked, flicking his hands out in a playful shrug. Logan glared at him, but he continued, "[I’M] just saying, making jokes every now and then isn't the end of the world."
Logan spun around to face him and chopped his hands forward. "Okay, but Patton, it's not just the jokes that are a problem. [THINKING] ahead, resisting impulses--those are the kinds of skills that you're severely lacking in." He knocked lightly on Patton's skull.
Patton drooped his arms and whined again. "Aw, but that's so boring!"
Logan rolled his eyes. "[OF] course it is, but that's what adulthood is sometimes. Now seriously, let's get to work here--and if you make one more sarcastic comment, I am pulling the plug on this lease," he said, lifting his finger. "[YOU] got it?"
Patton put his hands up and resisted an eye roll. "Yeah, yeah, I've got it, just chill."
They wandered through the store, and as Logan began crossing things off his list, he became gradually less irritable. Patton, meanwhile, hadn't said so much as three words since Logan had issued his warning.
But as time went on, Logan was beginning to find the silence unnerving. The store was bigger than he expected, and there were too many nuances between products that he couldn't understand. Feeling suddenly guilty, lonely, and desperate for contact, he decided that the least he could do was engage Patton in the process. He dragged him over to where the linens were.
"[WOULDN’T] these bedsheets go nicely in the guest room?" he asked, trying to sound confident.
Patton looked up, still glum. "Oh, yeah, I guess they would!"
Logan smiled softly and jerked his head. "[GET] me the cart, would you?"
Patton obediently dragged their cart over, and Logan placed the bedsheets inside. "There we go. [THIS] afternoon is finally coming together." He turned back to Patton and gave him a gentle smile.
Patton looked up in surprise. "Ya think?" he asked shyly.
Logan nodded. "[FROM] where this conversation was about ten minutes ago, I would certainly say so, wouldn't you?" He put a hand on his best friend's shoulder.
"I guess so, yeah," Patton replied, trying to smile.
They continued to walk around buying various things, and Logan was finally starting to relax now. Patton's obnoxious comments had stopped, and the more Logan pretended to know what he was doing, the easier that got. But as their shopping trip came to an end, Logan himself started getting quiet, too.
They walked towards the register, and Logan's heart rate quickened with every step. He took a deep breath and turned to his side, expecting to be met with the calming sight of his best friend...
Until he realized that Patton wasn't standing next to him anymore.
Suddenly seized with panic, he shoved the cart aside and ran through the store, calling out for him. He tugged at his hair in agony. How long had Patton been gone, anyway? Had Logan really been so focused on the fact that Patton wasn't being annoying anymore that he failed to realize that he'd disappeared entirely?
"[ANY] shoppers out here find a missing person?" he finally cried out in childish desperation.
Just then, a stranger put a hand on Logan's shoulder. "Whoa, buddy, you okay there?"
He spun around, and found himself face to face with a man wearing a leather jacket and carrying a thermos. He lowered his sunglasses, which he was wearing indoors for some reason, and gave Logan a concerned look.
Logan stared back at the strange man, in a daze. "[OTHER] than having misplaced my friend with no way to know where he is or how long he's been gone, I suppose I'm just peachy."
"Your friend?" the man asked, taking his hand off of Logan's shoulder. Logan nodded helplessly. "[GUY] wearing a blue T-shirt and cardigan, about yea high, square glasses kinda like yours?"
Logan nodded again, and the man continued, "I'm pretty sure he headed over to the toy aisle if you want to still catch him."
Without even thanking him, Logan ran off in the direction the man was pointing. He finally reached the toy aisle, and sure enough he saw Patton hovering over a bucket of bouncy balls. Patton looked up to see him, and jumped back.
He put his hands up. "[I] was just looking at these, I swear I wasn't going to make you buy them," he rambled. But Logan shut him up with a hug that surprised both of them.
"Patton, what were you thinking disappearing like that?" he asked desperately.
Patton responded with a timid shrug, still wrapped in Logan's arms.
Logan sighed and squeezed his friend tightly. "[JUST]...don't scare me like that again, okay?"
"'Kay," Patton choked out.
They pulled out of the hug, and Patton was about to turn and walk the other way, but Logan put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. Patton turned to look at him.
Logan tilted his head. "[WANNA] talk about it?" he asked, rubbing his arm. "If not, that's okay too, I just--"
Patton nodded and jerked his head, and they left the toy aisle. They moved to a bench in the center of the store, taking in the ambient noise of all the people walking past them and the cool rush of the air conditioning above them. Logan waited patiently for Patton to collect himself, and finally the latter spoke up.
"[TELL] me this, Logan--why did you say yes to my asking you to live with me if this is how you really feel? I mean, everything you said about me is true." He was speaking more quickly now. "[YOU] put up with so much of my jokes and annoying acts that I put on all the time because that's all I know how to do since I don't know how to do anything else, and you always know what you're doing and I don't, and seriously, who thought it was a good idea to just shove me out into the real world like this?"
Logan sat back, stunned by the outburst. Patton took a deep breath and said more slowly, "Okay, I know that was kind of a lot at once, but still. [HOW] am I supposed to figure this out?"
Patton looked to Logan, waiting for an answer. Logan stared down and swung his legs, and finally he spoke up. It was time for him to come clean. "Patton...can I tell you a secret?"
Patton raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, urging Logan to go on. The latter took a shaky breath and glanced around before saying in a low voice, "[I’M] pretty sure I've never been able to talk to a single cashier without you next to me. You just have this nature about you that makes people feel safe and comfortable, and somehow when I'm with you I don't care as much if my purchases are weird or if it takes too long to put my money away...because I know that you're still my friend."
He met Patton's eyes for the first time, and, seeing no signs of judgment, relaxed a little. He took Patton's hand. "[FEELING] scared is basically part of the contract for both of us right now, but that's why we're doing it together!"
Patton gave Logan a skeptical look, but Logan just softened even more and said with the utmost sincerity, "I can't do this alone, either."
"[GOTTA] be honest...haven't really seen this side of you before," Patton finally choked out after taking a few moments to find his voice.
Logan looked down again and rubbed his arm. "I mean, I know you've been nervous about all this, and I've been trying to help in the best way I can, I just thought that being honest about my own fears would..." He paused, trying to find the right words.
"[MAKE] me even more scared?" Patton offered.
Logan nodded. "But if that wasn't helping you, then I apologize." He lifted his hands again so that they were on Patton's shoulders, and looked his tearful best friend straight in the eye. "[YOU] are capable of figuring all this out, and I'm sorry for all the comments I've made today that have contradicted that. But we're going to figure this out together!"
Patton bit his lip and looked down, so Logan gave the shoulder another shake.
"[UNDERSTAND]?"
Finally Patton looked up and smiled. "I do."
Logan tentatively opened his arms, and Patton leaned in for a hug. As the two sat on the bench and clung to each other for dear life, they also both began to feel more secure for the first time.
Hey...if you don’t totally hate me yet, why not go back and reread Audition (third word of every other spoken sentence), Movie Night (second word of every other spoken sentence), House Party (third by default, but second and fourth as necessary, word of every single spoken sentence), and Embarrassing Past (first letter of every sentence)?
Also, DISCLAIMER: These OPs were not edited until July 8th. Please don’t feel bad if you didn’t pick up on it--you weren’t supposed to! This has everything to do with seeing if I could be a good enough writer to pull it off and nothing to do with making others feel bad. It was all in good fun!
if love be rough with you, be rough with love | chapter 17 | "a fine spray of scarlet"
Dave York x f!Reader
Word count: 4,988
Summary: You and Dave seem to have earned your Happily Ever After.. but ghosts from the past linger and threaten that dream.
WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. CNC relationship. Somnophilia. Unprotected piv. Anal. Domestic fluff. Reader is a bitch to Carol and Carol is a bitch right back. Angst. Relationship woes. TW for violence, home invasion, and murder. Stupor due to shock. Chekhov’s head shot from ch. 13
Author's note: I know, I KNOW! I haven't updated in forever.. I honestly just wanted to let Dave and Sweetpea keep their happiness a little longer before the drama started again. But I'm up to the task and I'm ready to bring these two crazies back in action! Also, yes @yorksgirl at one point Dave will shown to be a GNR fan, but Bon Jovi has been a constant on my Spotify lately 🩷 I've added the inspired songs at the end.
I went back and read this series to try to get back into the feel of it, and I started seeing Sweetpea as a final girl from a horror film. She starts off friendly and willing, despite the trauma in her own past, and grows from heartbreak into a savvy, street smart woman who no longer dismisses any eventuality of danger. Super prepared is what I'd call her.
Also.. 🎵Caroline... she's the reason for the word bitch🎶
dividers by @saradika-graphics & @thecutestgrotto 👑
Series Masterlist
The best thing about finally working on your Happily Ever After with Dave is that he comes home to you every night. You're no longer a secret, a toy to stash away so he won't get caught. He fucks you anywhere and everywhere in the home you now share, the one you thought you'd grow old and alone in, preferring it that way.
You know the commute isn't easy on him, mostly spending time with you on weekends and working from your home as often as he can. It may be why he takes fewer jobs - albeit, the ones that pay the most. You continue managing Pour Decisions, the most popular place in St. Louis for pub crawls and post-Cardinals games get-togethers. It doesn't allow for a lot of time together, especially in the midst of planning a wedding. It's not an ideal situation, but you make do with what you're given and you do it out of love.
Your favorite nights are when he comes home from some underhanded, off-the-books job. He doesn't ever tell you what it is, or where he's going, or how long he'll be gone, and while this is born of a need to keep you safe from the facts, you know better than to ask. You're not implicating yourself.
He's a little less ephemeral than before, less of a ghost appearing only when he's ready, like the days when you were his kids' live-in nanny. But even when he's not there in the dead of night your senses are filled with him.. because when he comes back you know what kind of mood he'll be in..
You're fast asleep, curled up on your side with his pillow under your arm, inhaling his scent until he can be there for real. And Dave is so quiet you don't even hear him until you feel the bed dip beneath you and his fingers curl into the waistband of your sleep shorts.
"Wha-" you're barely able to eke out before Dave roughly pulls them down, pressing you onto your stomach on the bed. He takes the pillow you're holding and places it under your belly, lifting your hips and ass towards him. You barely have time to react before you feel the substantial glide of his hard cock into your willing, waiting warmth.
He waits only a heartbeat before he starts slamming into you, his grip on your hips merciless as he uses you to vent his frustrations.
Job gone right, job gone wrong, doesn't matter. You're the prize he gets to claim when he comes home at night.
His chest against your back, his arms wrap around your shoulders, keeping you prone as he thrusts madly inside you, fucking away any worries or thoughts that are plaguing him. His teeth nip at your earlobe, his growls of pleasure clear as day. You can only take what he has to give, your hands bunching up the bedsheets.
"Take it, take it," he murmurs, the slap of his hips against your ass prevalent in the room. "My good girl, my perfect angel, making me all clean again.."
He's perfectly angled to hit your sweet spot, not being gentle about it, needing to get rid of the leftover adrenaline still pumping through his system. Your cries are muffled by your pillow. Use me, use me, use me you're mumbling, panting as he brings you to the brink and crashes into you, staying still as your warm wet channel traps him and pulsates, your walls tightening around him. Not yet satisfied, Dave gathers saliva and spits onto your asshole, spreading it open with his fingers before plunging in deep, only giving you a moment's respite to catch your breath before he starts fucking your ass, eliciting strangled moans from your sweet mouth. You know the safe word, the only thing that can stop this, but it never enters your mind to speak it. You need this as much as Dave does. Moments later you both come, your tight hole coaxing him to spurt his white-hot jets of his thick, sticky spend deep inside you.
Your alarm doesn't wake you the next day. What does wake you is the sound of the shower on and, quietly, almost as if he doesn't want you to hear him, Dave is singing.
Squinting as you get up you listen intently, trying to clear away the cobwebs of your interrupted sleep. Sure enough, you catch snippets of Dave's singing. Bon Jovi's "You Give Love a Bad Name", and it brings a smile to your face. When he emerges, his song better heard as he comes back into the bedroom, towel slung around his hips. His eyes go a little wide when he sees you're awake and you swear it's the first time you've ever seen the man blush.
"What, no encore?" you tease, laying on the bed propped up on one elbow. "I was hoping you'd do 'Wanted Dead or Alive', or maybe 'Livin' on a Prayer.'"
"I didn't take you for an eighties music fan."
"It's considered oldies now."
He scoffs, dark eyes watching you with an appreciation for your barb. "Do you even know the name of the album those songs are from?" he challenges.
"Hmm.. I think it was.. Slippery When Wet." With that you pull she sheets away so he can get the entire view of you.
Dave smirks, pouncing on you and wasting no time in getting rid of the towel around his waist.
You get ready for the day, flannel shorts pajamas and a long-sleeve henley on under your comfy robe. The mornings are still chilly here, even in the springtime. You start a pot of coffee, all smiles as the day begins.
Dave comes out of the room, dressed casually in gray sweatpants and a navy blue tee. He sees you eyeing his crotch and he sneaks up behind you, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. "Can I have some?"
"I hope you're talking about the coffee, because I'm still pretty sore from earlier."
"I've got to remind you who you belong to now." He lightly spanks your butt.
"You can have some coffee if you give me a kiss."
"Where I want to kiss you isn't appropriate for the kitchen."
"You weren't saying that Tuesday night."
He chuckles at that and turns you around, tracing your jawline with his fingertip before cupping your face and going in for his kiss. His lips are soft, all form of facial hair shaved off just moments before, and his aftershave is subtle, something that reminds you of the ocean. There's a hint of toothpaste in his kiss. "Good enough," you say as you break apart, teasing even as your knees almost go weak from his touch.
You pour him a pot, fixing it just the way he likes, and it transports you back to those days, half a decade earlier, when you and Dave were the only ones in the household awake, sharing small talk over morning coffee, in the days before you found each other on a deeper level.
So much has changed. So much bad could have tainted what you have, but now you're on the verge of having everything you want.
When Ben is hungry Dave jumps into action, insisting on making lunch himself.
That catches your attention. "Oh? What do you plan to make?"
He blushes a little, a rare sight. "I may not be the greatest cook in the kitchen, but I do make a mean grilled cheese."
"Grilled cheese sounds perfect. Can I do anything to help?"
Dave shakes his head. "You can help by just sitting there and looking beautiful. It's the easiest job in the world for you," he says with a smirk, kissing her temple before starting on lunch.
You watch him as he moves around the kitchen, slight pauses here and there while he goes over a mental checklist of what he needs to do. "I don't think I've ever seen you cook before. It's kind of sexy." It's fascinating to watch him, seeing the concentration on his face as he gathers the ingredients, a pale blue kitchen towel over one shoulder.
"Are you trying to seduce me while I'm cooking?" His smirk makes her melt just like the butter in the pan he's heating up.
"Oh, if I remember correctly, you seduced me during various chores back in the day."
He laughs, remembering. "How could I be held accountable when you looked so god damn hot folding my clothes?"
"We did a lot of things we weren't supposed to," you reply. The past is still rife with unanswered questions and pieces of frozen time you wish you could change.. it's best not to dwell on it too much, and just face forward to the future. Nothing stops you from going up and kissing his cheek as he's at the stove. "Don't let the sandwiches burn," you whisper playfully.
The three of you sit down to eat in the breakfast nook. It's a quiet day before the hustle and bustle of play dates and office meetings. You wish you could bottle up this moment for all time.
"My favorite guys in the whole world.." You give Dave and Ben a warm smile. They smile back and Dave reaches out to give your hand a little squeeze. "I don't think I've ever been as happy as I am right now."
"Me neither," you tell him. "And we deserve it after all this time."
It's going to be a wonderful life.
"Thank you so much for waiting, Carol!"
A false smile is plastered on your face as you approach the table at the newest French restaurant in town. Wearing a crisp new white sheath dress, your neck adorned with the Anne Boleyn "B" necklace Dave gave you years ago, you give Carol a hug even though she hasn't risen from her seat to greet you, and she looks like she'd rather stab you with the butter knife than to show you any type of affection. But the fact that she even deigned to come all this way and see you is something of a relief.
You've spritzed on too much Marc Jacobs Daisy and you know it as she starts to sniffle. Sitting down across from her you study the woman you've now replaced.
She's older now, a few strands of gray in her dark hair, but it suits her. You know what Dave saw in her when they met, how he could have fallen in love with her, but times change. Both of you have changed too.
Carol says your name with an icy chill in her voice. "You asked me here. What do you want?"
The waiter comes by and you order an Aperol Spritz, and Carol orders a stronger vodka martini.
"It's a little early in the day, isn't it?" You smile at her, baring your teeth to show you can't be messed with. "Sorry to arrive so late. Dave and I just got back from the cabin- you remember the cabin, right? We spent a weekend there with our son just to get away, and it was so peaceful. I really love that little place."
Carol looks like she'll throw up if you don't stop talking, and part of you is keen on actually going that far.
"I'll dipense with the small talk," you say, thanking the waiter as he arrives with your drinks. Grabbing your sunset-colored drink with your left hand, you silently show off the engagement diamond Dave bought for you, sparkling in the afternoon light.
"Dave tells me you're seeing someone. I think that's so great," you emphasize the last two words. "Tom.. from Scranton?"
"Ted. From Philadelphia," Carol coldly corrects. "He's an investment banker."
"Ooh. A real wolf of Wall Street."
"You said you'd stop the small talk."
"I did," you smile somewhat apologetically after a sip of the drink. "I think it's a shame you're not letting the girls come to the wedding. Dave wants them there. I know it would make him happy for them to share in his joy of marrying someone he really loves."
"Is that the story they told you? That I'm the one not permitting them to go?"
You shrug good-naturedly. "It seems like you're a little jealous.. maybe you haven't yet accepted that Dave and I are together. And it's such a shame, really," you quickly add, seeing Carol start to turn red by your not-so-subtle jab. "Molly has her learner's permit and Dave's already looking at cars for her. Alice is interested in STEM summer camp, and who did she ask for the money for the registration fee?" You smile sweetly, pointing to yourself. "I happily gave it to her. She was pleased as punch, Carol. Dave and I don't know why you deny the girls anything when we can give them everything."
The ex-Mrs York has heard enough, and it shows in the way she slams her empty rocks glass down none too gently.
"You think your life with him is going to be perfect? Some kind of fairy tale born of the transgression you both took part in? You think you know David York?" Carol's smile is evil. "He cheated on me with you for months. I admit to having my suspicions, and he confessed everything to me after I showed him that disgusting video you sent me. You should have seen the tears in his eyes. He looked like a man repentant and lost.. he begged for me to stay with him. I almost did," she says, her eyes taking on a faraway look as if to imagine where that road would have led her.
"He admitted to everything. He sang like a canary. I know about the women before you, and believe me, they were younger and prettier and bouncier than you. But do you want to know what the best part is?" she whispers conspiratorily.
You're frowning, your drink practically untouched, gathering condensation. Your entire body is tense and you're gritting your teeth. You want to get up and leave but you're rooted to the spot. Some dark part of you wants to hear what happened after you destroyed the York family.
"After he begged me to stay and I refused, he begged for something else instead." A slow smile curls her lips upward. "He begged to make love to me. I shouldn't have, considering all he'd put me through, but it ended up being the best fuck either of us have ever had in our lives."
"You're a bitch," you whisper, feeling tears brimming in your eyes. You quickly rub them away, not wanting to give Carol the satisfaction of watching you cry.
"And you're just a kid trying to play with the grownups," she replies, her voice like ice. "I don't think you're anywhere near ready to fuck with me."
She gathers her purse, taking her time and enjoying the way you're lips are trembling with unshed tears. "Have you ever heard the term, 'how you get him is how you lose him'? Woman to woman, honey, I'm being candid with you. What he did to me he'll do to you. Men his age don't change. You just have to decide how much pain you want to live with."
She rises from her seat, a sweet smile on her face like her words hadn't just been spoken and eyes the necklace you wear. "You're a history buff, right? Then you should know that historically, second wives don't fare very well." She then snaps the string of pearls against your skin before leaving.
You hate it. You hate everything about today. The defeated feeling sits in your stomach like a large stone, replacing all the good and bubbly feelings you'd left the house with today, all your hope squashed and misshapen in the face of new information and intrusive thoughts.
There's a chill in the air as you leave the restaurant, the sky grey overhead. Moisture is in the air, impending rainstorms, quite the opposite of what the weather app predicted today. You walk to your car, having foregone using the valet service. Every available penny is going towards your dream wedding, despite Dave wanting to pay for it all himself. He's paying child support and alimony. You can't let him put himself in debt, no matter how many extra "jobs" he can get in the meantime.
It hurts to think about Dave in any context other than your fiancé. There's a desperate hope in your lungs that everything she said about him was a lie, a ruse to slap those rose-colored glasses right off your face. You can't let that bitch have the satisfaction of knowing it's working.
"Hey, miss! You dropped something!" A voice calls out behind you. You turn quickly, snapped out of your dreary thoughts. About thirty feet away a man is approaching, holding up a handkerchief. It's not yours, but despite your unsettled thoughts, you pull your phone from your camera and threaten to call the police. "That's not mine! Leave me alone!" Just to be safe you snap a quick picture of him, your other hand in your purse where your pepper spray is. The man puts his hands up and backs away, and you watch him until he's out of sight.
You open the door to your car, checking the backseat just to be safe. It's empty. Breathing a sigh of relief you start the car and head home.
Unfortunately, Carol's gotten into your head. You hate every word she told you, imagining over and over how Dave must have groveled for her forgiveness (if she's to be believed) and how powerful the emotions were when they had sex (again, if Carol was even telling the truth.) Despite her taunts, you find yourself wondering about other things you'd never put in your mind before. Other awful avenues of possibility have to be thought of.
You know all of Dave's dirty secrets. Not necessarily the details, but you've been trusted with things he'd never told Carol before. In times past that would have made you happy. Boastful, even. But now the devil on your shoulder is reminding you of little facts you'd never thought would pertain to you.
Like spousal testimonial privilege. If Dave is ever caught and would face a prison sentence, you'd be unable to testify against him.
You can't help thinking you're just a means to an end. And if you ever did threaten to speak out against him.. well, he's already planned to kill you once. That you know of.
Sitting across from him at the dinner table, the mood has taken a downward shift. You push the food around your plate, a frown etching lines onto your face as you avoid Dave across the table from you. He's chatting happily with Ben, encouraging him to eat some more green beans.
"What's wrong?" he asks you after giving his son a kiss on the head.
You glide your tongue along your teeth as you search for an answer. He'll see through a lie. But telling him the truth might be worse.
"Come on," he says softly, reaching your your hand across the table and stroking the top of it softly with his thumb.
"Do you love me?" you ask all of a sudden.
"Sweetpea," he says softly, "what kind of question is that? Of course I do." He brushes a soft kiss to your knuckles.
However, it does little to quell your fears. "Don't you hate me for what I did? For breaking up your perfect life with your perfect wife and kids?"
Dave's whole countenance changes. He releases your hand, wiping his mouth with his napkin before setting it down next to his plate.
"What did she tell you?" he asks, as if already knowing his ex-wife is to blame for your mood. "I told you it wasn't a good idea to meet with her. She's a manipulative bit-" he casts a quick glance at his son and changes his word. "She's manipulative. She wants to get under your skin."
"So you didn't fu-" now it's your turn to remember Ben and to change what you're going to say. "You didn't.. lay with her and beg her to take you back?"
"Sweetpea," he says, and you spot the vein in his forehead start to throb. He's anxious and feeling cornered. Nobody gives him those things better than you.
"Do you think any of that matters now? We're together, we're going to get married. Carol has no right to take up any space in your head."
His words ring true, but the selfish, self-antagonizing part of you refuses to let go. You're holding onto this pain like it's treasure. Because for the past few years, pain has been your only currency.
You want to ask why he's marrying you, why he's keeping you around after all. That odd man in the parking lot - was he hired by Carol? Dave? Could it have been a total coincidence? Your defenses are up and you know it's going to be harder to trust him now. You feel foolish for ever thinking things could be square between you and the man whose life you ruined.
From that night, things are chilly between you and Dave. It's like walking a tightrope, a balancing act between acting on how you really feel and risking everything because you're having doubts.You maintain a pleasant facade for Ben's sake, but you're already sleeping facing away from each other, the silent treatment a strain on your relationship, your sex life now nonexistent.
You hate feeling like this, becoming grateful for any little glance he throws you, and then shutting him down when you feel he's getting too close. Dave's no stranger to mind games. He plays them just as well, especially as you've become good at them.
It's an uneventful day when it happens. Paige is with Ben at the playground while you're folding laundry, storing it gently away. You grab Dave's shirts from the hamper, giving them a quick sniff at the collar to take in the last remnants of his cologne. The pain in your heart is starting to overshadow the anger and dismissiveness you've felt towards him these past couple of weeks. Maybe tonight you could forgive him, make his favorite meal and then lead him to the bedroom. Superficially speaking, you've missed the heavy press of him against you in the mornings, the way he'd come up behind you in the bed or in the shower and take what he wanted -- what you enthusiastically gave.
Monotonous chores help alleviate the pain of dwelling on your situation. It would be the easiest thing to go to the spare bedroom/office where Dave is working in quiet and sit on his lap, wrap your arms around him, tell him you want to forget your little tiff. But you also know you're not quite sure which of his temperaments you'll be met with. He might say all is forgotten and still hold it over your head.
But the injurious thought that perhaps he'll walk away still lingers, a grey cloud over what was once your surety, your happiness. You didn't come all this way and grow from broken glass just to fall apart in his arms again. He can come to you and apologize. Even if it takes forever.
You were a fool to think happiness was so easily achievable, that it was meant for someone like you. All this time you knew better and the moment he asked to be part of your life again, you gave up that hard-edged part of yourself you'd come to love. So much for independence.
A sound snaps you from your bitter train of thought, and readiness pauses you, your head on a swivel as you hold your breath and will your heart to pound a little less loudly. It could be nothing.
But you didn't reinvent yourself by taking every perceived danger as "nothing."
Your smart watch alerts you to the back door being opened and your heart nearly stops as your brain goes into overdrive. The person shown onscreen is NOT someone you know. Somehow he knew the access code.
As you're hurrying quietly to where you keep your gun, you use your watch to tap out a quick text to Paige telling her to keep Ben at the park. No reason to worry her, you just tell her you and Dave will meet them there later.
Dave. Where is he? Gun in hand you keep your back to the wall as you make your way to the hallway. Daring a peek out you see the opposite end of the house, and Dave's office with the door closed, a slit of light showing underneath the door. You hope he's gotten the door alert as well, but the fact that he hasn't left the room is concerning.
You move swiftly into the dining room, pausing in wait as you listen out for footsteps or anything that will help locate the intruder. And there it is - the soft scrape of a chair against the kitchen tile.
With your heart in your throat you charge into the kitchen, gun drawn on the intruder, and you recognize him at once.
About five foot ten, medium build, dark hoodie and black jeans.
It's the same guy from the parking lot that day you met Carol at the restaurant. And now he's in your house, an intruder in your safe place.
The gun in his hand as he lifts his aim registers for a split second before you shoot first, watching in horror and awe as your bullet blows him backwards against the kitchen door and he slumps against it, blood pouring from the exit wound at the back of his head.
Dave emerges from his office just in time to see you shoot, and the intruder crumple to the floor, a big black blood stain on your perfectly curated, lemon-themed kitchen. Definitely dead, if the singular bullet wound to the forehead is any sign. Nice headshot, he thinks, before picking up the dead man's gun and walking over to check on you.
You're on the floor, knees huddled to your chest. He takes the gun you're clinging to and gently removes it from your grip, placing both weapons on the table above you, out of reach. "Sweet pea.. are you okay?" He cups your face, brings your eyes to his but there's nothing behind them. You seem empty, a shell. He brings you close to him, holding you tightly and stroking your hair. "It's okay, baby, I've got you.." Above you the mirror hanging in the dining room is shattered, evidence of the intruder's only shot fired off. Just a few inches to the right and he would have killed you.
Dave places his sweater over you to keep you from going into shock, and within a matter of minutes he's called his team to come by. As they start on getting rid of the body and cleaning up the crime scene, Dave brings you to the bathroom and starts a shower. He undresses you with great care, and sheds his own clothes, testing the water before he steps in with you.
He washes your hair, using your favorite peony scented shampoo and lathering it well, letting the conditioner set in while he tenderly washes your body. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder after rinsing out your hair, making sure no bubbles are left.
"You know we can't stay here anymore," he murmurs to you, nudging your ear with his nose. "You know that, right, sweetpea?"
Numbly, you nod. You're still frozen, seeing that man's face in your mind, the look of shock that came over him as you fired the deadly bullet, the fine spray of scarlet that splattered against the pale yellow wall.
The kitchen looks brand new, as if nothing had ever occurred there. Dave's team had come in while you were asleep, practically dead to the world after taking a sleeping pill. You don't ask what happened to the body. You're pretty sure Dave wouldn't tell you anyway. It's not something you need to know. He'd called Paige and asked him to take Ben to her place, without going into too much detail.
Within the week the house is on the market, all your important possessions packed in a U-haul. You only allow a sliver of emotion to pierce your heart as you say goodbye to the home you thought you'd raise your son in. You had hopes and dreams of leaving it to him upon your death so he could raise his own family there. Now all that is up in smoke. Ben is snuggled in the backseat with Paige, both of them napping in the backseat. Raindrops plop on the windows, quickly cleared away by the windshield wipers' steady movement. The sky is gray, with thunder booming in the distance. Dave's hand is holding onto yours in your lap. There are too many unasked questions filling the space between you. Whether out of a need for safety or a need for delusion, you keep those questions to yourself, letting them dissolve in your throat. Only the occasional glance at Dave ensures that everything will be fine, especially when he catches your look and gives you that little smile that makes you melt.
He turns on the radio, searching for a station that isn't spotty due to the storm. An oldies rock station is playing "Livin' On a Prayer" by none other than Bon Jovi. You and Dave exchange a glance, little secretive smile gracing your mouths.
"Told you it's oldies now," you tease him.
He just chuckles, squeezing your hand and turning up the volume a little, singing to you.
A few hours later, Patton and Logan headed down to their dorm's common room. Roman wasn't there yet, but Virgil was already sitting on the couch with a bunch of movies in front of him. He looked up and locked eyes with Logan in particular.
"Hey, [WHAT]'s up, Logan?" he greeted cheerfully. "It's good to see you!"
Logan froze. He wasn't expecting to have to make conversation. "Oh...[I’M] doing well...I mean, not much is up," he stumbled. "What about you?"
"Just [THINKING] about what to write for that English paper for Thursday," Virgil said with a shrug. "Have you started it yet?"
Logan perked up. "Ah, [OF] course, the one for Shakespeare and Sexuality, right? With Professor Mason?"
"Yeah, [YOU] got it. I'm liking it a lot so far; how about you?" Virgil asked.
"I [WOULDN’T] say it's the best class I'm taking this semester, but I am certainly enjoying it!" Logan replied with a wave of his hand.
"Oh yeah, that's fair! I [GET] you."
Logan nodded and looked around the room, rubbing his arm. Okay, so they'd made it through one conversation topic. What were they supposed to do next?
Logan stood there quietly for a moment, until Virgil finally broke the silence. "Well, anyway, feel free to take a seat!"
"Yeah, [THIS] couch has got room for more people, you know," Patton said good-naturedly from his seat on said couch. Logan smiled sheepishly and sat next to his roommate.
"So...what are we watching, anyway?" Logan asked, looking off to the side.
Virgil leaned forward and sorted through the DVDs that were lying on the table. "Hm...[FROM] the looks of it, we've got Moana, Big Hero Six, and Wreck-It Ralph." He turned back to face the other two. "What sounds good to you?"
Logan's stomach dropped. If there was anything that was factually inaccurate, it was Disney. The night was slated for disaster.
"Um, [ANY] other movies?" he choked out. Then he winced; he knew it was a rude thing to say, but he didn't want to set himself up to make everyone miserable.
But Virgil had no reaction to this slight, and just shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Well, [OTHER] than whatever's in my collection anyway."
Logan hunched his shoulders and sunk back in his seat; Patton shot him a concerned glance. Meanwhile, Virgil was observing the interaction from the outside and got the sense that he was missing something. He shot a curious glance at Patton, who shoved his arms to the side as if urging Virgil to just move on, so the latter spoke up again.
"But anyway, we'll wait to choose once Roman comes back with the popcorn. The [GUY] is pretty serious when it comes to his popcorn, let me tell ya," he added with a laugh.
Logan forced a smile and lowered his shoulders a little. But moments later, Roman came in carrying a bowl of popcorn, and claimed his own spot on the couch.
"Hey guys, are you ready to start--"
He paused, noticing Logan for the first time. His smile faltered ever-so-slightly, but he regained his composure as he put the popcorn down.
"Oh, [I] didn't know you were coming, Logan. How are you?"
"I'm [JUST] fine, thanks for asking," Logan said, shooting Patton a quick glare. "Shall we get this evening started?"
"I [WANNA] wait a few more minutes," Roman replied. "Does anyone know if Remy is coming?"
Virgil spoke up from his seat on the floor. "I'll [TELL] you if he texts me, but last I heard he couldn't make it."
Roman's face fell. "Oh, that's too bad." He shrugged. "Well, [YOU] guys want to pick the movie then?"
"Yeah, sounds like fun!" Patton said for the first time.
Roman smiled and peered over the table. "Okay...[HOW] about Big Hero Six, then? We can watch another movie later if we want."
"Hey, [I’M] always down for puffy, huggable robots!" Virgil exclaimed.
"I'm into that, too!" Patton said. He and Virgil looked at Logan expectantly, and he gave a silent thumbs up.
"You [FEELING] alright, Logan?" Patton asked quietly as Roman got the movie set up.
"Oh, yeah, I'm good," Logan faltered. He stretched his arms forward, trying to release some of his tension. "Just [GOTTA]...stretch a little."
Patton shrugged and settled back into the couch. Logan took a handful of popcorn and tried to focus on the movie, but every instance of scientific inaccuracy got under his skin until he couldn't keep it to himself any longer.
"Wow, Hiro really doesn't know what he's doing," he blurted out. "I'd [MAKE] robots that work way better than that."
Roman tensed up and looked straight ahead. "Uh...yeah, I guess so," he muttered.
Patton leaned in closer to Logan. "Maybe [YOU] should quiet down a little?" he said gently.
Logan winced. "Oh, right...sorry."
Patton gave Logan an encouraging smile and patted his knee before returning to his spot. Logan slid down in his own seat and tried to focus on the movie again.
But it wasn't long before he opened his mouth yet again. "I'd [UNDERSTAND] if the mysterious man had created a few hundred microbots by the time they first found him, but as it is the man's rate of production is far too rapid given the timeline of the movie." The other three turned to face him, and Patton tried to gesture for him to quiet down again, but Logan continued. "I mean, come on! He'd [NEVER] be able to make them that quickly in real life."
This time Virgil spoke up. "Well, yeah...but it's not real life though?" he pointed out. Logan blushed and shoved some more popcorn in his mouth.
Patton looked around at his uncomfortable new friends, and then locked eyes with the bowl. "I'm [GONNA] get some more snacks," he said suddenly. "Does anyone want anything?"
Virgil shot Patton a knowing but grateful smile and tossed the latter his keys. "Just [GIVE] us whatever's laying around in our room."
Patton caught the keys in his hand. "Okay, perfect! Thank [YOU]; I'll get right on it."
A few minutes later, he returned with some Gummy bears and Reese's Pieces, and put them on the table. Roman and Virgil pounced on the candy, but Logan stayed right where he was, still puzzling over the movie. Much to his guilt, Patton's heart sank when he saw his new friend in that position; he knew what was coming next.
Sure enough, Logan spoke up again. "They're [UP] in the sky on a round wind turbine and they're not even sliding off? If Baymax is so concerned about everyone's health, why did he even agree to--"
"He's [NEVER] going to shut up, is he?" Roman burst out, pausing the movie. "Seriously, what is wrong with this guy?"
For about a minute, the common room was completely silent. Virgil shook his head at Roman and tried to meet Logan's eyes. Patton slid down in his own seat, silently hoping for all the fighting to stop soon. Roman's eyes widened for a split second, but then he scowled and folded his arms.
Meanwhile, Logan bit his lip and looked down at the floor. Finally, he collected himself enough to be able to talk. "I'm [GONNA] just...head out, I guess," he said as he rose up.
Virgil sat up and lifted his hand. "Hey, don't--"
"Wait, [LET] me talk to him," Patton interrupted. "He's my roommate."
So Patton got up and followed Logan outside. Virgil sighed and sat back down, giving Roman one more glare before hesitantly starting the movie again.
Hey...if you don’t totally hate me yet, why not go back and reread The Apartment (first word of every other spoken sentence), Audition (third word of every other spoken sentence), House Party (third by default, but second and fourth as necessary, word of every single spoken sentence), and Embarrassing Past (first letter of every sentence)?
Also, DISCLAIMER: These OPs were not edited until July 8th. Please don’t feel bad if you didn’t pick up on it--you weren’t supposed to! This has everything to do with seeing if I could be a good enough writer to pull it off and nothing to do with making others feel bad. It was all in good fun!
As Thomas got in the car to go to his audition, Roman sat back and glared at Logan. Logan stared straight ahead and tried to ignore him, while Virgil alternated between giving warning glances to Roman and reassuring smiles to Logan. Even Patton, who normally spent the rides over to an audition by fantasizing about how it would go, couldn't help feeling dragged down by the silent battle.
"Ah, yes, [OF] course we have to wait in a line," Logan groaned once they finally got there. "I completely forgot that waiting was a part of the audition process."
"How could [YOU] forget that?" Roman sneered. "It's literally the first thing we have to do."
"Well, you [WOULDN’T] remember the first thing that goes into an application, now, would you?"
"No, I guess not, but--"
"Do you [GET] to criticize me for forgetting things, then? Didn't think so." Logan turned away.
Patton bit his nails. "Please stop [THIS] arguing, you guys. It's just gonna make the whole headspace worse."
Virgil nodded in agreement. "And coming [FROM] someone who knows exactly what life for Thomas is like in a terrible headspace, I'm gonna agree that you guys should knock it off."
"Why do we need him here, anyway?" Roman protested. "I'd take [ANY] of Thomas' high school bullies along to an audition before I'd take Logan."
Noticing Logan's wounded face, Patton quickly spoke up. "Okay everyone, let's just back up a bit, shall we? There are [OTHER] things to focus on, here."
"Yeah, like the fact that Thomas is about to be called up any minute," Virgil added, gesturing towards the stage.
Patton nodded. "C'mon, our [GUY] needs us. Can't you two just call a truce or something?"
Roman crossed his arms. "Only if [I] get to make all the decisions until we get back." He pouted and turned his head away.
Logan just gave him a critical stare. "And then you'll all help me in this school search?"
The two stared each other down for a few moments, and Patton and Virgil exchanged anxious glances. Logan and Roman had been fighting a lot more recently, but it wasn't common for them to do so right when Thomas needed one of them for something. If nothing happened soon, then Thomas would be forced to go up onstage without influence from either of them.
Finally, after the staring contest had gone on long enough, Virgil burst out, "Would you [JUST] shake hands already?"
"No, I won't!" Roman yelled, and jerked his thumb towards Logan. "I don't [WANNA] have to put up with this one getting in our--"
"Next person up!"
Everyone froze as the casting director called Thomas up to the stage. It was time for him to get out of his head, which meant that the four of them couldn't argue amongst themselves anymore--at least, not as loudly.
"Can you [TELL] me your name, sir?" the director asked.
"Thomas Sanders."
Roman glanced towards the stage. "Okay, fine, [YOU] can stay, Logan," he whispered. "Just don't mess him up, got it?"
Logan glared at him. "Roman, precisely [HOW] could I mess--"
But Virgil just came up from behind and started massaging his shoulders, shutting him up. "Shh--just...just let him do his thing," he soothed.
Suddenly, Logan hardened. "Fine, then [I’M] leaving." He shook himself out of Virgil's grip.
The latter's eyes widened. "Wait, hold on, I didn't mean it like that--"
"If Roman's [FEELING] stifled by my presence, then the best thing I can do for the sake of the group is to go back home." He readied himself to sink down.
Virgil grabbed him by the shoulders in desperation, facing him this time. "Don't you dare leave me here alone again."
Patton nodded emphatically. "Yeah, you've [GOTTA] stay here! We need you!"
Logan shook his head. "I'll just [MAKE] things more difficult," he said solemnly as he sunk down.
Hey...if you don’t totally hate me yet, why not go back and reread The Apartment (first word of every other spoken sentence), Movie Night (second word of every other spoken sentence), House Party (third by default, but second and fourth as necessary, word of every single spoken sentence), and Embarrassing Past (first letter of every sentence)?
Also, DISCLAIMER: These OPs were not edited until July 8th. Please don’t feel bad if you didn’t pick up on it--you weren’t supposed to! This has everything to do with seeing if I could be a good enough writer to pull it off and nothing to do with making others feel bad. It was all in good fun!
The next morning, Logan woke up in his bed, and immediately the events of the night before came back to him. He groaned and rolled over, and immediately saw Patton looking over at him. Logan raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Patton sighed.
"Virgil [AND] I talked a little last night," he began.
"Oh, and how did that go?"
Patton pulled his chair over a little closer to the bed. "Roman's [HURT] still, but Virgil convinced him that he had his own apologizing to do, so he agreed to meet with you sometime today."
Logan sat up and nodded. "I guess that's fair. Do [YOU] know what time he said worked best for him?"
Patton nodded. "At ten, I think, which is...oh, which is any minute now, actually!" he said, startled.
Logan got out of bed. "Well, [WE’VE] gotta get going then, don't we?"
"I guess so, yeah."
Logan sighed and got dressed quickly, and then he and Patton headed out towards the others' room.
"I've [KNOWN] the anatomy of an apology since kindergarten," Logan said aloud as they walked down the stairs. "Say I'm sorry and that it won't happen again, and offer to do what I can to make things better. Ensure [EACH] of us is on the same page." He turned to face Patton. "That's all this is, right?"
Patton shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, [OTHER] than trying not to make excuses, sure. But I don't think you have to approach it as some sort of formula," he pointed out, softening a little. "Go [FOR] being sincere, you know?"
Logan gave a quivering sigh and hunched his shoulders as they reached Roman and Virgil's floor and started down the hall.
"And don't overthink it too much," Patton went on, hand on Logan's shoulder. "It's [SO] easy sometimes to get lost in your head, and I get that, but Roman's just a person--just like you are."
"Yeah."
They had reached the door. Logan stared it up and down a few times as if it were a lion he was taming. He stared down at the doorknob and rubbed his arm, but jumped as Patton's voice pulled him out of his head.
"How [LONG] were you planning on standing there, exactly?" came his roommate's good-natured whisper. Logan grit his teeth sheepishly and knocked on the door.
Virgil opened the door seconds later, looking cheerful. "Oh, hey guys! How's [YOUR] morning so far? Did you sleep well and everything?" The questions were addressed to both of them, but he was looking at Logan in particular.
Patton spoke up. "His [HEART’S] been racing long enough, maybe we should just get this over with."
Virgil gave an understanding nod. "Okay, that's fair." He pulled back a little and faced Logan again. "Roman's [BEEN] up for a while now; he just left to get a snack, but he should be back any minute. Are you okay with waiting around here until then?"
Logan nodded shyly, and Virgil stepped aside to let him in. Then he turned back to Patton.
"I'm [ACHING] to get something to eat soon. Have you had breakfast yet?" he asked, a bit too emphatically. Logan rolled his eyes a little, but couldn't help smiling.
"No, [BUT] I wouldn't object to having some now!" he replied just as pointedly. "We'll see you later, alright, Logan?" He patted Logan's shoulder and left with Virgil for the dining hall.
Logan stood around in Virgil and Roman's empty dorm room, wondering if he should sit down. He looked around and stood in the center of the room, concerned more than anything with staying out of trouble.
At long last, Roman returned with a candy bar he'd gotten from the vending machine. He took notice of Logan and stopped short.
"Oh...[YOU’RE] here already," he said plainly.
Logan looked down at himself, and looked back up at Roman with a sneer. "I guess I am, aren't I? That [TOO] annoying for you?"
"You know, you don't need to broadcast to the world that you know everything," Roman snapped, closing the door behind them. He sat down in his desk chair and looked off to the side.
"I'm [SHY] enough around here as it is, okay?" he went on. "I just thought inviting those two guys from upstairs to a movie night with my roommate would be a good way to meet new people." He looked up at Logan. "But [TO] be reminded nearly right off the bat that I'm childish and immature because I like kids movies was not what I was looking for."
Logan looked away sadly, and Roman pointed wordlessly at Virgil's chair. Logan reluctantly sat down in it.
"Listen," Roman continued a bit more softly, I really am sorry for calling you out the way I did; it was uncalled for and it just made everyone uncomfortable, and I should have found a better way to put it. I'll [SAY] I'm sorry for that--truthfully. But I also need you to understand where I'm coming from."
Logan nodded, and Roman looked at him expectantly.
"Now [IT] would be your turn to talk, I believe."
Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I suppose I'm confused as to what you mean when you say that you're shy," he began. "I'm [INSIDE] my dorm room each weekend doing homework while you're out hanging with all your new friends like everyone else."
Suddenly, Roman hardened again. "Um, and who exactly are these new friends you speak of?"
Logan rolled his eyes. "C'mon, [WE] both know what I'm talking about. I see people wave to you in passing all the time. Frankly [BOTH] students and teachers seem to like you quite a bit."
Roman leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Wow, we really live on different planets here, don't we?" Logan shot him a puzzled look, so he continued. "I [KNOW] you and Patton and Virgil so far--that's it. And sure, people talk to me, but that doesn't mean I know how to talk to them."
That last sentence gave Logan pause. Someone else...knew how it felt to not know how to hold a conversation?
Just then, Roman got up and started pacing. "But [WHAT’S] worse is, Virgil is the only person that I'm really close to and he already knows me inside and out. Do you know how stifling it is to have to live with someone who already knows all of your flaws?" he shouted.
Logan sat there silently. He couldn't say he did know how stifling it was.
Roman continued talking, a bit calmer now. "I've [BEEN] trying to branch out so I could have a fresh start, but I can only do that so much because it seems mean to Virgil, and just...you're lucky that you don't have to deal with all that."
"I suppose I never thought of it that way," Logan said genuinely once Roman's tirade had had a chance to sink in. "Certainly [GOING] off of that information I can understand why you would feel that your social position is inferior to mine; however--"
"Okay, seriously, do you have to talk like that?" Roman cut in suddenly. "Come [ON]."
Just like he had the night before, Logan bit his lip and slid down further into his chair. In a moment of recognition, Roman slumped his shoulders and put his hands up.
"...Okay, you're right, that wasn't very helpful, let's just try that again," he said. Now it was his turn to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Finally his own voice was steady, and he spoke up again.
"Look, [WE] both know that you're the one who's supposed to be here and not me," he said pitifully. "As I was saying at the start of this conversation, all I ask is that you don't rub it in my face so much."
Logan looked up and tilted his head. "I [KNOW] that my...speech patterns can be unusual sometimes, but I'm feeling lost as to how that relates to your belief that only I belong here. Can you per--can you maybe explain that a little better?" he asked sincerely.
Roman put his face in his hands and groaned, and moved to lie on his bed. "All [THE] kids here have such intelligent conversations about books and culture and the stuff they've read and I can't contribute to any of it! I'm not smart enough to hear the nuances in classical music or to understand the significance of a given metaphor."
Logan thought this through and tried to find a way to speak up, but Roman went on. "This [GAME] of trying to pretend I know those things just makes me feel worse. It's just exhausting and depressing. Oh, [AND] don't think for a second that I know anything about robotics or mass production or friction," he added pointedly. Logan nodded regretfully.
Roman turned to stare at the ceiling, having cooled off a little. "My point is, I was never meant to be a college student."
Logan sat in the chair for a few moments and swung his feet. He was done with his own self-pity; Roman was saying things about himself that weren't true, and for the first time he could ever remember, Logan was overcome with a sense of compassion. But how to help?
"Roman...[WE’RE] in the same history class together, right?" he said at last.
Roman turned around and faced him. "Yeah...why?"
"You're [GONNA] say you don't belong here even though just last week you made an incredibly insightful point about how Taft's domestic policies impacted his decision to fire Pinchot?" Logan asked gently.
Roman sat up and glared at him. "What, you mean the point that a certain someone said was incomplete? Don't [PLAY] like you liked what I said when you're the one who shot it down."
Suddenly, Logan got back on the defensive. "Now, I don't think that's entirely fair. Shooting [IT] down would be like saying it was a bad idea. I liked it a lot; I was just trying to build on it." He stared at Roman with the same helpless, wounded look he'd given Patton the night before, but then he sighed and shook his head.
He tilted his head again and leaned forward a bit. "...You [AND] I have had a pretty rough start, haven't we?" he said shyly. Roman leaned forward too, and offered a small smile.
They stayed like that for a moment or two, but then Logan shook his head and leaned back. "Anyway, what I was trying to say is, you're at this school because you got accepted. And [IF] you ask me, that's evidence enough that you're meant to be here," he said, meeting Roman's eyes for the first time.
Now it was Roman's turn to stare at his feet. "It is?"
Logan nodded. "Don't [YOU] understand?" he asked, speaking even more softly now. "Admissions directors don't make mistakes about these things."
Roman gave him a skeptical glare, so he went on. "They [ASK] all the right questions during interviews and read every application essay carefully to ensure that all their students are thoughtful and intelligent and have the potential to thrive here. You're here because they were able to see the best in you." He smiled again.
Roman swallowed back a sob, and said at last, "Maybe [ME] and you should talk more often."
'You and I,' Logan thought to himself, but he was too overjoyed to finally have a new friend to care. "Yeah, maybe we should," he replied with a grin.
Roman smiled and wiped his eyes. "Look, [HOW] about we start this over, yeah?" He stood up and stuck out his hand. "I'm Roman."
Logan grinned and stood from Virgil's chair, sticking out his own hand. "Hello, [I’M] Logan. It's nice to meet you!"
Hey...if you don’t totally hate me yet, why not go back and reread The Apartment (first word of every other spoken sentence), Audition (third word of every other spoken sentence), House Party (third by default, but second and fourth as necessary, word of every single spoken sentence), and Embarrassing Past (first letter of every sentence)?
Also, DISCLAIMER: These OPs were not edited until July 8th. Please don’t feel bad if you didn’t pick up on it--you weren’t supposed to! This has everything to do with seeing if I could be a good enough writer to pull it off and nothing to do with making others feel bad. It was all in good fun!
