#as we see reinforced with his little gifts and the way he went shopping with him and stuff

[bunnakit]

my stand in ep 4 thoughts, feelings, etc

WOW WA WE WAA THAT SURE WAS AN EPISODE HUH - happy to report i went back through the episode slowly this week and took notes and really tried to gather everything i wanted to say (but i will inevitably forget something)

🌸 ok disclaimers because i have a lot of them for this particular episode 🌸

i'm just a silly guy on the internet, i'm not an expert in mental health, psychology, body language, whatever. most days i can't even take care of myself. i'm just saying things recreationally.

PLEASE do not put novel spoilers in my replies, reblogs, or tags without a warning notice. i've got an itchy blocking finger for it these days.

i am treating ming and joe and everyone involved in this show as if they were real life human beings. ming was not born some mustache twirling villain sent from hell to make joe miserable. joe is not some pure angel descended from the clouds to do no wrong. everyone in this show exhibits very human behavior and that can be distressing under certain circumstances. i'm just going to comment on them as humans. i'm not interested in a round table discussion on why a character is irredeemable, the scum of the earth, etc. i'm just putting my thoughts out there and you can take them or leave them.

🌸 alright yucky disclaimer time over 🌸

the episode really just picks us back up where everything left off - and yet joe still made ming breakfast, and ming isn't stupid (well right now at least,) he knows something is off.

i am confused why tong needs to get married on this specific day. and like bro how fast are you getting married? relax. the whole thing is just unstoppable force (trajectory of this producers career) meets immovable object (tong's fuckass stubbornness) and the collateral damage is massive.

and then there's the question of did joe ever want to play a lead? or did he let his impulsiveness and hurt put a target on his back? (only emphasized by the fact that everyone assumed joe would turn down the role)

i DO apologize for all my doubt surrounding wut. he, ja, and may are the only people in this show with any god damn sense. maybe jojo and yim. we'll see.

getting into the confrontation at joe's work, i really don't think it's that surprising when we keep in mind ming genuinely has no fucking clue what is going on. all he knows is joe woke up, was acting weird, didn't come home, and then told him to pack up his shit and leave with ZERO explanation. like, joe's completely in the right, but i'd also be confused as fuck. (i wouldn't go to someone's work about it but, y'know, we know ming acts in extremes.)

and to me this is where it really became obvious that joe has always been able to overpower ming, to get away from him, as we have seen joe's physical prowess, we've seen what he's capable of, but he never uses his body to move ming away from him - that's not who joe is, he's not someone that would put his hands on another person like that. it's just another way ming and joe are the direct antithesis of each other.

it's my thought that the argument escalates because ming is used to getting everything he wants - except for tong, and now joe. when joe begins to push him away and deny him his substitution for tong i think ming lashes out in his hurt with a thought of "it's happening again, why doesn't anyone want me?"

i will say while i do believe sol has good intentions for the most part his white knighting is getting a little irksome. while convenient, it just shows how much he's still hovering and laying in wait for a chance with joe - he, too, is not respecting joe's wishes. no is a complete sentence, sol.

and then things continue back at home and joe finally, finally throws ming's words back at him: if i'm so terrible to be with, if you're so great, why are you wasting your time with me?

and ming doesn't have an answer. what ming DOES have is another back embrace, arms wrapped around joe as he asks "don't you love me anymore?" but is he asking joe or tong?

"although i'm not as good as tong" even now joe's rampant self worth issues are still at play but at least he finally knows he's worth more than whatever this is.

then the phone rings and to me, ming looks skittish. he looks shaken. he's never seen joe so angry and he's scared and as the call progresses that fear morphs into rage when sol calls joe. and the thing is, regardless of who played the main role, ming was never going to be happy. it was either going to be joe or tong playing opposite sol and neither of those things would have been acceptable.

and then i said, out loud, in my quiet office: OH! and promptly lost my shit in the group chat.

ming doesn't look wholly present after his act of violence. his face is vacant, like he isn't completely seeing or grasping what he's just done. i get the impression that ming isn't mentally well; stress and fear and anger have a way of making people do really fucking stupid things and as these things happen you risk falling into the sunk cost fallacy - you've already gone this far, you can't stop now - which all aligns with the obsessive behavior we've seen from ming in the past.

as joe wakes up and they talk once again joe doesn't blame ming, he blames himself for not seeing the writing on the walls even though it was written in invisible ink.

"all these times we were together did you ever love me?"

"you can't tell?"

again, so much of the blame and emotional responsibility of their situationship is put on joe and ming refuses to communicate any of his feelings, perhaps because he doesn't know how to after repressing everything for so long.

WE DIDN'T GET HOT KINKY CHAINED UP SEX THOUGH, WHY DOES GOD HATE ME SPECIFICALLY

but the way joe looks at ming as they linger there in the wake of joe's request looks like a goodbye, the way his eyes soak in every detail of ming's face. despite all of this and the nightmare it has turned into he did love ming, perhaps still does, and he does have some of those good memories he was so desperate to keep.

though like.. joe.... maybe we could consider a different career path??? instead of just jumping to risking our lives? like sure food service sucks, cashiering sucks, etc. but you aren't in danger of falling off any cliffs, you know? and let's be real, he could just go into modeling with those looks.

it's my impression that when ming calls joe he looks haggard, like he's lost numerous nights of sleep (and we really don't know how much time has passed) but either way it does seem like he's at least done some amount of reflecting. his voice comes across soft, subdued, and sincere.

and after everything, back in the present, we see ming. he's still in the apartment, desperately calling joe's name all these years later, still unable to sleep and waiting for joe to come home just like he asked him to years ago.

maybe ming never wanted to enter the entertainment industry before, but he has now. perhaps it was never for the attention or the money, maybe he chose to promote those watches because it was a reminder of the gift from joe. and maybe this job, in this specific industry, is the closest he can feel to joe now. and maybe with new influence and connections ming can find out why he was never able to tell joe he loved him before he lost him.

WHO KNOWS, NOT ME, CAN'T WAIT TO FIND OUT THO

[newtonsheffield]

Could we? Perhaps? See Anthony gift Kate her very own secret garden?

Oh Lieutenant Bridgerton raises many an eyebrow when he buys the cottage at the far end of the lane at the end of the high street. He’s newly discharged, newly engaged to Kate Sharma which has caused a bit of a stir because several of the local boys are harbouring a little crush on the Sharma girls but Kate’s never given them the time of day. And Anthony’s also purchased a shop that’s sat empty since it closed near the beginning of the war. When the man went away and never came back.

They see Anthony, trundling back down the high street the the strangest assortment of things at least twice a day. He’s got some of the local boys setting up his shop for him and books are arriving from god knows where though most of them are secondhand at the moment. What they’re curious about are the renovations he’s making to the cottage. He’s been making enquires about where he can get stone, of all things. The paint he trundles back with in his little cart leaning heavily on his cane while Miss Edwina Sharma calls out to him.

“If Kate finds out you’re doing that you’re going to be in rather a lot of trouble.”

Anthony waved her off, adjusting his hat, “Are you going to tell her?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then I suppose I needn’t worry!” And he trundled off with his wagon full of supplies.

He paints the entire house, inside and out. Sometimes Simon is on the ladder with him, looking very irritated as Anthony gives directions, Sometimes it’s Kate with her hair neatly tied back from her face in her father’s old trousers and shirts as they build their home together. But one day, Lieutenant Bridgerton is seen, before dawn with a whole squadron of the young lads from the village, each of them promised an entire pound for their troubles. Cart after cart pulls up and at first, everyone assumes he’s building a reinforced air raid shelter. Everyone has one of those, these days. But he’s not. It’s curious. He’s building the stone wall higher in one corner of their garden, then squaring it off. By the end of the day a quarter of their large garden’s been walled off completed and a door placed in one wall. And no one, for the life of them can figure out why.

Anthony feels guilty, more than a little, that he told Kate she can’t visit him for a few days. But he just needs to get the walls built and the plants put in and then he should be right. And she’ll love it. He knows she will. And finally, with his back aching and sweat soaking his shirt, he’s done. And he can’t wait to show her.

His heart feels like it’s going to explode as he walks over to Kate’s home, leaning a little more heavily against his cane thinking, not for the first time that he’ll be glad when his car’s ready to be picked up and he doesn’t have to walk absolutely everywhere. His chest’s heaving when he raps on the front door and smiles at Mrs Sharma when she opens it, smiling at him.

“Anthony, are you staying for dinner?”

“Ah… no, Mrs Sharma not… tonight I only… wondered if I might take Kate to the cottage. I’ll have her back straight away.”

“Will you?” He heard Kate’s voice before her head appeared around the corner, “Are you finally ready to show me the mystery project that’s got everyone talking?”

“I am indeed.”

Kate grabbed her coat, tucking it around herself as she made her way out, kissing her mother’s cheek. “He will be back for dinner, Mama.”

She watched him as they took off back down the lane and he could tell she was assessing the way he was walking, eying him. “What have you done to your back?”

“Nothing.” Anthony huffed, “I slept oddly.”

“No you didn’t.”

Anthony sighed, leaning over to kiss her. “Kate, Darling, it’s part of the surprise. Can you not be cross with me, please?”

She eyed him, “I need to see what the surprise is before I know whether or not to be cross.”

“Must you always spoil my romantic gestures?” Anthony sighed as they approached the house and he spun towards her in the fading light. “I’m going to have to ask you to close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Kate,” Anthony sighed, leaning forward to kiss her again, “Please.”

She sighed and covered her eyes dramatically letting herself be lead into the garden. Anthony could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he lead her through the garden, the key weighing heavily in his pocket and he took a deep breath as he stopped. “Hold out your hand.”

He pressed the key into her palm “open your eyes.”

She stared down at the key, and her brow furrowed as she looked up at him and then her lips parted in surprise and her eyes widened. “Anthony, is this… what I think it is?”

“Open it and see.”

Her hand shook as she stepped forward, her fingers running over the rough wood of the door as she slid the key in and the door swung open.

“Anthony.”

He’d built around the old oak tree and planted several other trees, and rows and rows of freshly tilled earth stood around them where flowers would spring to life eventually.

“I um… I planted vines around the walls and eventually they’ll be covered and I’ve put flowers in here and here so the whole ground will be covered with them eventually. And I’m getting Simon to help me with a swing on the oak tree but I wanted to show you now.”

She didn’t say anything. Only stared around her, her hand stilled pressed against the wall.

“Kate do you…?”

“I love you.”

She darted forward and her arms were tight around his waist as her lips found his.

“I love you too.” He said as he pulled back, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“So this is why all the boys in town have been running around with their pockets full of sweets.”

“I’m… trying to support local shops.”

“You’re such a sweetheart.”

[talkfastromance4]

Flowers 4+1// ashton irwin oneshot

A/N: this is my first ever 4+1 fic so I’m kind of nervous, thank you Angie @littledrummerangie for the idea! This is also SUPER indulgent as being a birthday fic for me and a birthday fic with Ashton😅 since mine is the day before his. This has everything I love in it, flowers, hot tubs, a cabin, christmas, love… This is 4 times Ashton gives you flowers and 1 time you give him flowers

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

Enjoy!💕

*****

One

The first time they met was when Andy and Sarah invited Ashton to help her move into her new place. The movers basically set all the boxes and furniture into her house and then left her to her own devices. She called Andy and Sarah for help and if they had any reinforcements it would be greatly appreciated. 

She was trying to find wine glasses when there was a knock at the door. When she opened it she had to look up at her guest. His copper brown hair fell in waves and necklaces hung perfectly down his neck, his hazel eyes were bright and friendly.

First, she noticed how good looking he is and the second thing she noticed was the mason jar filled with orange and peach flowers. 

“Uh, hi can I help you?” she asks suddenly feeling very self-conscious of her ratty t-shirt and paint splotched shorts. 

“I’m Ashton and I’m your honorary mover,” he smiles. “Andy called me. You must be Y/N.”

“Must be. I mean--yes, I am! And oh, right, wow. Sorry, please come in and thank you for helping,” she says, moving aside to let him in.

“Yeah, of course. These are for you,” he holds out the mason jar. “A housewarming gift.”

“Thank you so much,” she smiles, taking the flowers with both hands. Their fingers brush. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“Really?” his eyes bore into hers and she’s momentarily frazzled. 

“Apart from my mom or grandpa but...um, I’ll put these in the kitchen. Andy’s in the bedroom putting the bed together if you’d like to help in there.”

She escapes into the kitchen where Sarah is wiping down the fridge. 

“Who was at the door? What pretty flowers!” 

“Your friend Ashton and he gave me these,” you touch one of the roses before burying your nose in the plumage. The petals tickle your nose and the scent is wonderful. 

“He’s sweet like that,” Sarah smiles. “Did you find the glasses?”

“No,” Y/N huffs, setting the flowers on the counter by the sink. “They’re probably in the bathroom or something.”

“We’ll find them.”

The four of them continue working on unpacking and it isn’t until about 10 o’clock when Andy and Ashton enter the living room.

“The bed, vanity, and dressers are all assembled,” Andy announces wiping at his brow. 

“We’re the poor man's Avengers,” Ashton laughs. “We put the bed in the middle of the wall and the vanity next to the window. Best lighting to do make-up.”

“That’s...perfect actually, thank you guys,” Y/N smiles, balling up the newspaper and shoving it in a large garbage bag. She just finished placing her books on the shelves, she’ll sort them later in the week. 

“We were thinking of getting pizza,” Andy says.

“Pizza sounds great! Here, I’ll give you some money--”

“No, my treat,” Ashton says, “you’ve been working hard.”

After eating pizza they all went back to unpacking and Ashton made comments about the art pieces she has. He asks where she wants each one hung up. 

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll put them up later,” she waves her hand at him. 

“It’s my job as honorary mover,” he grins. 

Midnight came upon them sooner than she would like. Andy and Sarah headed out because of Pebbles, she’s been cooped up all day so it was just Ashton and Y/N. He asked questions while unpacking to get to know her better and he was very open to her questions. 

He stayed until 3 in the morning but he made sure to get her number before he left. She took a photo of the flowers on the counter before going to bed.

Two

She changed her outfit about a dozen times. Her bed was covered in discarded clothes and she still had to put on her makeup. The clock on her wall ticked reminding her that Ashton would be here in a little less than an hour. 

It’s been six months since he helped her move in and in that time, they became close. He showed her all of the best coffee shops and bookstores he knew of. He introduced her to the rest of his band and they accepted her kindly. 

She accompanied them on outings, parties, and Ashton always made sure to stick close with her. He knew she was shy around new people so he always made sure to include her in conversation. 

One night when he was walking her back to her door after going to dinner with the band and their significant others, he was acting strange. He was unusually quiet and she’d find him staring at her across the table. 

“So, I’ll see you Monday, right?” she asked, shuffling through her purse for her house key. 

“How about Saturday?” 

“This Saturday? I thought we were going to try that new restaurant Monday with Andy and Sarah?”

“I mean, we can do that, too but I was thinking...Saturday could just be us. You and me.”

The air changed between them and she stopped looking for her keys. She turned to face him but she couldn’t quite read his expression. 

“Oh, okay. Did you want to watch that new movie on Netflix?”

“Y/N, I’m trying to ask you on a date here,” he laughed nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Ask me on a...you are? Oh God, and I’m ruining it. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize--”

“You could never ruin anything,” he smiled. “But, would you like to go on a date with me this Saturday?” his hazel eyes were hopeful and Y/N couldn’t believe this was actually happening. 

“I’d love to Ash,” she smiled. 

And now here she is, half naked and indecisive on what to wear. She shouldn’t be freaking out like this, it’s Ashton. But it’s also *Ashton. Ashton who can always make her laugh and he makes her feel safe and they always have fun together. But it’s also Ashton who gives her butterflies whenever he touches her lower back and her heart race when he gives her a hug. 

Her phone buzzes and it’s Ashton letting her know he’ll be there in forty-five minutes. She lets out a loud groan and goes back to her closet, maybe a new article of clothing she’s never seen will just reappear. 

To her astonishment, there was a maroon dress that she wore to a wedding. 

“Might as well,” she sighs and puts it on. It really doesn’t look half bad as she looks at herself in the mirror. 

She rushes to put on her makeup and by the time she spritzes on her perfume, the doorbell rings. She checks that she has everything in her clutch and moves to the door. 

It’s like a deja vu moment from six months ago because he’s handsome as ever and holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His necklaces are perched perfectly in the V of his white button up shirt and it contrasts nicely with his skin. These flowers are full of pink and white flowers with a hint of peach thrown in there. The ivory paper crinkles when his fingers squeeze it, his eyes widen at the sight of her. 

“Wow, you look...wow.”

“You’re pretty wow yourself,” she giggles then glances at the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Um, yes,” he holds his hand out, the flowers bumping your chest. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she laughs, taking them from him and buries her face in the center of it. “They smell wonderful, thank you so much. I’ll just put them in water and then we can go.”

He follows her into the house, she doesn’t see him glance down at her ass in the dress. He’s rubbing his neck again when she looks at him getting a vase from the counter. She fills it with water and arranges the flowers. 

“So, where are we going?”

**

They’re sitting outside the restaurant, it’s a warm breezy summer night. The rustic atmosphere feels comfortable but when she flicks her gaze at Ashton over the drink menu, he’s drinking his glass of water heartily. His other hand is tapping against the table, it’s a thing he does when he’s nervous. 

“Thirsty, huh?” She tries to ease his unusual activity and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, throat’s a little dry,” he clears his throat just as the waitress comes by. 

She takes their drink order and Ashton requests a pitcher of water if it’s available. Their roles are reversed, she’s the one doing most of the talking and he’s the one who’s listening. She can tell he’s still being reserved so she takes out her phone and points it at him.

“Smiiile!” She sings turning on portrait mode. 

“Why?” He laughs nervously but it makes him smile so she snaps the photo. 

“Because, the lighting is perfect and you look cute,” she flirts with a smile.

Ashton laughs again but it’s his real laugh, the laugh that always gets her laughing. She snaps as many photos as she can and it seems to have done the job of making him act like himself. Even though they’ve hung out nearly everyday, the evening still had the air of a first date. 

They even tried each other’s food. She stabbed her chicken and noodle with her fork, blew on it, and fed it to him across the table. 

“Wow, that is really good,” he hums in approval. He swirls his own noodles on his fork and feeds her slowly. 

“That sauce is amazing,” she moans, loving the lemon flavor. 

They share a dessert of chocolate mousse and split the strawberry. After dinner, he took her to the art museum. They're open later in the summertime. There were only a few people meandering in the open space and standing stagnant in front of pieces. 

“This is why I wanted to bring you here,” he says, taking her hand easily in his own. 

Her butterflies returned and he lead her all the way to the back. It was a Claude Monet exhibit and she tried to look at the paintings but Ashton was on a mission to a certain piece. He stops in front of it and she stares in amazement at the painting. It’s of Claude Monet on his boat. She gasps, staring at it and Ashton is staring at her. 

It’s the painting she tried to replicate when she was younger in her art class. It’s the painting that introduced her to Monet because the style was similar and it always stuck with her. She told him she wanted to find the painting when they first met and stayed up until 3 in the morning.

“You remembered this?” she asks, stepping closer to it. She makes sure their hands are still locked together, his thumb is rubbing her skin in soothing circles. 

“Your eyes always light up when you talk about things that matter to you. They’re always so bright when you talk about him...and when I give you flowers.”

“Ashton this is…” she shakes her head at a loss for words. She gazes upon the painting, loving the visibility of the palette strokes and the blending of the colors. Tears formed in her eyes. “This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” she wipes the stray tear that slipped from her eye.

“Hey,” he says softly. His fingers graze her cheek tilting her face towards him. 

His thumb rubs at the leftover tear, his own face inching closer to hers. She closes her eyes, exhaling when his lips brush against hers. He squeezes her hand, his lips controlled and gentle yet also hesitant. As if he’s testing the waters. 

They unabashedly makeout in front of the paintings and in her mind she’s thinking of what they look like to an outsider. Still life man and woman lost in each other.

Three

The holidays arrived faster than she wanted them to. She still had a ton of shopping to do for her family but at least her flight is scheduled. Ashton is accompanying her on the trip and she’s so excited for him to meet her family. 

“Make sure you aren’t doing anything the weekend before the holiday,” he tells her unravelling lights from her box of Christmas decorations. 

“How come?” she asks searching through the tv for the claymation movies she loves to watch.

“That’s when I’m going to give you my present.”

“You need a whole weekend to do that?” she laughs. 

“I won’t say anything more than that,” he smirks at her. 

“I can help with that--”

“I got it sorted,” he waves her off, “you enjoy your movies.”

“Have I told you you’re the most amazing boyfriend?” she wraps her arms around his waist. Ashton shifts the lights into one hand so he can hold her against him with his free hand. 

“You’ve never told me that,” he grins and kisses her. 

“I’m sure I have,” she mumbles between kisses. Her hands slip under his shirt, thumbs grazing over his warm skin causing Ashton to grunt at the contact.

His hand rubs up her back and into her hair, he breaks the kiss with a shaky breath. “Let me finish putting these lights up and we can get back to this, baby.”

“We could get to this faster if you let me help,” she stresses, pinching his skin. “You never let me do anything.”

“You do plenty, baby,” he smiles, kissing her forehead. 

She sighs and retreats to the couch curling up to watch the movie and Ashton wrap and weave the lights around her tree. Two and a half movies later he was finally finished and turned the lights on. The white light reflected on her wooden floor and she beamed at his job well done.

“It’s perfect! Thank you!” she throws her arms around his neck in a big hug. 

“My pleasure,” he chuckles and kisses her temple. She starts to give small kisses to his neck, featherlight and ticklish on his skin. “Get outta here, you know I’m ticklish.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” she teases continuing her small attack of affection. 

Ashton shifts her in his arms making his way to her couch and drops onto the cushions. She situated herself so she’s straddling his waist. His hands smooth over the curve of her ass while his lips suction kisses along her jaw and to her neck. She shivers at the contact, tugging at his curls when he sucks a mark.

“This is what I’m gonna do about it,” he says gruffly and rocks her against his hips. 

“Okay,” she sighs, enjoying his mouth on her neck and the bulge in his pants rubbing against her core with each rock he makes her do. She moans when his hands move to her thighs and gives her a squeeze. 

Needing more of him, she drags his head away from her neck so she can feel his lips on her own again. She rolls her hips against his without his help and his hands slip under her shirt, moaning when he feels she’s not wearing a bra. 

“Damn, baby,” he growls cupping her breasts together. He tweaks her nipples and she squeaks in his mouth. “You like that?”

“Feels good,” she nods nipping at his lip. His phone rings and buzzes in his pocket, the vibration adds another element to her arousal.

“Leave it, they can leave a message,” he pants, sucking another kiss from her. 

His phone stops ringing only for hers to start on the coffee table behind them. She breaks the kiss and turns around trying to see the caller ID.

“Leave it,” he repeats, squeezing her breasts again.

“It could be an emergency,” she reaches for her phone to see it’s Sarah calling. “Hello?” She picks it up staring at Ashton and he smirks, lifting her shirt up. He takes her nipple between his lips and she scowls at him. “Oh, that was tonight? Um, yeah he’s with me. We’ll be right over. Okay, yeah…” she sighs when his teeth tug on her nipple. “See you soon.”

She tosses the phone to the couch and tosses her head back relishing in his mouth on her sensitive bud for a moment longer. Their physical relationship is progressing slowly, they’ve almost had sex three times (now four if Sarah hadn’t called) but she likes the pace they’re going at. 

“We need to go to Andy and Sarah’s,” she strokes his cheek curling his hair around his ear.

“Why? I’d rather stay here,” he shifts his mouth to her other breast, his tongue rolling over her nipple salaciously. 

“Mm, me too but it’s their Christmas party tonight. And we’re late by two hours,” she snickers, fingers still tangled in his hair. She has goosebumps from what his mouth is doing to her.

“I’m sick, can’t go.”

“Ashton!” she laughs pushing his head away from her chest. “We won’t see them until after the holiday. Come on, let’s go.”

She crawls off him, turns her tv off and changes her top, and puts on a bra. When she comes back Ashton is still sitting on the couch. She leans over the back of it next to his head. 

“Do I have to drag you off this couch?” she murmurs in his ear.

“I need a few moments,” he huffs, shifting his legs. 

“Oh,” she giggles, seeing exactly why because he still has a prominent bulge in his pants. “I’m sorry. Can I help?” she kisses down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. 

“You helped make this problem,” he laughs, turning his head to kiss her lips. 

**

The Christmas party was a hit and it’s the weekend before Christmas. Y/N was awakened by Ashton petting her hair and kissing her cheek, he used the spare key she gave him for emergencies.

“What a way to wake up,” she smiles, pulling him on top of her. His strong arms are caged around her head and his body weight makes her feel protected. 

“Your coffee is all ready, now you just have to pack and we’ll be on our way.”

“No breakfast in bed?” She traces his eyebrows. 

“I can make you breakfast in bed tomorrow*,” he nuzzles his nose against hers. “There’s a present by your coffee mug if that will help you get  your cute ass outta bed.”

Then his weight is off her and she’s left scrambling out of bed to follow him into the kitchen where her coffee is already in her to-go mug with a card and a bouquet of red roses and cranberries inside to make it more of a holiday special. He’s standing next to the small gifts with a grin on his face. 

“I love these, they’re so pretty,” she gushes, lifting the bouquet to her nose. She loves the sweet smell of a rose. 

“You’re so pretty when I give you flowers,” he comments, lifting up the red envelope. 

She holds the flowers against her chest and unfolds the envelope. Inside is a white card with writing formed in the shape of a Christmas tree, a star placed on top. The words read:

“TO A 

KIND

STRONG

BRILLIANT

SO BEAUTIFUL

AND TRULY AMAZING

GIRLFRIEND”

Ashton wrote his own inscription inside in his nice loopy script:

‘The past year with you has been one of the best of my life. Our friendship was the perfect foundation for a relationship and I can’t imagine what my world would be like now if you weren’t in it. So this weekend, it will just be me and you in our own little cabin, no interruptions. xx Ash’

“A cabin?”

**

After the 2 hour and 40 minute flight to Seattle, she and Ashton arrived at the cabin where a dusting of snow covered the ground and a wreath was on the door. Y/N was floored at how beautiful it was and Ashton took her hand leading her up the wooden steps. He took a key out and unlocked the door. 

It smelled like cinnamon and Ashton with cozy couches and armchairs, a large rug in front of a stone fireplace and a massive kitchen with a grill attached to a chimney. A Christmas tree was set up with presents scattered underneath and there was a large bouquet of roses on the kitchen table. 

“Ash…” she begins and then can’t find more words. 

“There’s more, c’mon,” he smiles, leading her up the winding staircase and into a loft area where a futon was and empty bookshelves. There were a few guitars on stands placed in the corner and some incense sticks. “What do you think?” He leans against the railing and Y/N ventures into the room.

“I think it’s wonderful, but there aren’t any books. Is this someone’s cabin and you’re renting it? I can chip in--”

“No, no. It is someone’s cabin...mine.”

She whips around from looking out the half circle window overlooking the backyard where she saw another grill and some chairs. 

“This place is yours?”

“Yep. I come here when I need to get away and just let my creative ideas flow. You can fill the bookshelves if you’d like.”

“Ash this is…” she shakes her head then launches herself into his arms for a hug. “This is incredible. And we’re here the whole weekend? Just us?”

“Just us, angel,” he nods, rubbing at her back. “There’s also a hot tub.”

His voice changed at the mention of the hot tub because she didn’t bring a suit. 

***

Ashton’s plan for Friday evening was to unpack and go into town for a nice meal. After dinner, they changed into their sleep clothes and snuggled on the couch with hot chocolate watching the first Home Alone movie because they’re her favorite movies. Her mind was on that hot tub and her stomach twisted with excited nerves at the thought of using it. She wanted to use it now but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth each time she tried to bring it up. 

She was also thinking of how this would be their first time sleeping together. Ashton never stayed the night because he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. She found it sweet but it also increased her infatuation for him even more.

When she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, he had her lean on him while they walked to the bedroom. The bed was huge with a large comforter and even fluffier looking pillows. It looked heavenly and she slipped inside willingly. She rolled over and became awake again at the look on Ashton’s face. 

She tossed over the blanket on his side of the bed and patted the space below the pillow inviting him in. He crawled in carefully and shut the lights off and they were in darkness. Ashton remained sitting against the headboard and Y/N reached out for him in the dark. His forearm was warm and soft.

“Are you going to sleep like that the whole night?” she whispers, giving his arm a squeeze.

“No,” he whispers back, sliding further down the bed. Her hand now rested on his chest, she could feel his heart beating. He turns on his side clutching her hand in his. “Is it weird I’m nervous? I feel like I’m fifteen.”

“You first slept with a girl at fifteen?” she laughs.

“No, I meant--being around girls at that age made me nervous,” he chuckles. 

“I’m nervous, too. But in a good way. Just warning you, I’m a kicker so I apologize in advance.”

“Why are we still whispering, we’re the only ones here,” he says, raising his voice to a normal level. That only makes her giggle more. 

“I don’t know, it fits the mood with you regressing back to fifteen years old. Our parents could walk in at any moment.” She scoots closer to him, so close that she can feel his breath fan on her face. 

“I hope they don’t,” he murmurs, inching closer in the dark until he finds her lips. It’s a tender kiss, the kind of kiss that took her breath away slowly and made her heart smile. 

She keeps him close with her hand pressed to his cheek. They kiss and talk in hushed tones until she falls asleep and Ashton tickles up her back until sleep finally finds him, too.

Saturday morning did indeed include breakfast in bed. Ashton made pancakes, bacon, coffee and a small bowl of fruit. His itinerary for the day consisted of lounging around the cabin watching holiday movies and then he was going to make her a steak dinner. She insisted on helping him in the kitchen amidst his protests.

“I’m not a good cook but I’m a very good listener. I’m your sous chef.”

“What does ‘sous chef 'even mean?” he asks getting the ingredients out of the fridge. 

“It means ‘under.’”

“Ah, so you’re under me, huh?” he winks. 

“Let me help you cook and I just might be,” she challenged with a smile. Ashton shakes his head, a slight blush rising on his cheeks. 

She followed his instructions with the garlic and mashed potatoes. The dinner was exquisite paired with a delicious white wine. They each had a full glass, their bellies full and face warm from the wine, they were extra giggly and extra flirty. 

“How about that hot tub?” he asks, circling the rim of the wine glass with his finger.

“Did you pack a suit?” She raises her eyebrows. 

 “Nope.”

“I didn’t pack a suit either,” she points to her chest.

“Must have slipped my mind,” he gulps the last swallow of his wine, eyes on her.

“What a shame.”

He sets his glass on the table and takes her hands in his, his eyes looking almost apologetic. “You can wear a t-shirt and shorts. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He kisses both of her hands. 

“Go get the water ready.”

Twenty minutes later, she walks out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and Ashton is already in the water. His arms are resting on the sides of the tub, his face even redder from the steam, his eyes hold hers steadily. 

The confidence she had in the bathroom is gone. She wanted to come out here and just get in the water completely naked, but now she’s nervous because what if she was reading the signs wrong? What if he doesn’t really want to have sex with her?

“Um, can you close your eyes while I get in?” she asks.

“‘Course,” he closes his eyes.

She takes a deep breath dropping the towel. The air kisses her skin and she climbs up the steps carefully. The water is hot as she descends into the tub, she bends down so only her head is exposed above the water. Ashton remains still and she inches closer to him until their knees touch.

“Hi there,” he smiles softly.

“Hi.”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

First she nods then realizes he can’t see her so she clears her throat. “Yes.”

He opens his eyes slowly, and they look so pretty in the nighttime sky. He’s looking at her like he’s staring into the full face of the moon, his eyes are full of wonder and adoration and her confidence starts to rise within her. 

The longer he looks at her, the more bold she becomes and she rises up from the water. Her breasts are completely exposed. Ashton licks his lips, his eyes lowering over her wet chest. She doesn’t want to break the spell that’s cast between them so she moves towards him slowly, her hands rest on his shoulders. His arms remain on the sides of the tub. 

“Ashton.”

“Yeah?” 

“Touch me.”

In a flash, his lips are on hers and she’s pressed to his chest. His large hands cover her back, one dips over her ass and she gasps when she feels his hard-on against her thigh. He lifts her effortlessly in the water so she’s straddling him. 

Instinctively, she rubs herself against him groaning at how he rubs against her most sensitive area perfectly. 

“Need you,” she whispers against his mouth.

“Bed,” he gasps.

They exit the tub excitedly, drying off as quickly as they can and she presses herself against him in front of the bed. Their bodies are warm from the tub and he lifts her in his arms again. She loves feeling his muscles wrapped taut around her, he knees onto the bed and stays there. Their arms are wrapped around each other and they remain kissing.

“Do you have something?” she asks, pulling away to catch her breath. She twists his chest hair in her fingers.

“Um, yeah. Shit, hang on,” he sighs, slipping her back onto the bed. She watches him appreciatively as he skimpers to the kitchen pulling his coat off the hook.

“You have a really nice butt,” she compliments when he returns with a condom in hand. 

“Thanks, babe,” he laughs then stops at the foot of the bed staring at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks suddenly self-conscious. 

“Nothing. You’re perfect.”

She smiles and pulls him on the bed with her again, connecting their lips. He rips open the condom and rolls it on his length. He kneels on the bed again and she’s quick to climb on top, moaning at his shaft rubbing between her folds. 

“Such a pretty moan,” he praises, grasping his cock in his hand. He teases her hole with his tip, nudging it inside a few times. Her lower body meets his in a desperate way, small gasps coming from her each inch he goes in deeper.

“Please, Ash...want all of you,” she knocks her forehead against his.

He takes a deep breath and pushes all the way in, his eyes watching her as her mouth opens and her eyes close at being filled. Their bodies tremble together and they remain still, experiencing being connected for the first time. 

“Good?” he asks, rubbing her nose affectionately.

“Mhm,” she nods and starts to roll her hips against him. “Ohhh…” she lets out a shuddering breath.

He follows her rhythm easily, arms wrapped around her, enjoying the way she rides on top of him. He kneads her ass as she moves, her breath picking up and when he can’t take it anymore, he rises on his knees, her legs fall on either side of him and she gasps. 

He rests her on her back gently, resting his chest against hers so that they’re still touching and rocks his hips in even thrusts. He slips his tongue in her mouth just as her legs wrap around his waist. She moans when he picks up the pace, her lower half meeting his thrusts perfectly. 

“Are you close baby?” he pants feeling her walls start to flutter around him. “So good for me...so perfect...taking me so well.”

“Don’t stop,” she moans tilting her head back. Ashton pounds into her faster, each time he thrusts in she clenches around him a bit more tightly. 

“Fuck…” he hisses when she clenches and stays that way. Her moans are loud in his ear and he always wants to be the one that makes her sound like that. He can’t hold his climax off with her sounding like that and he’s coming with her. “I love you,” he groans loudly in her neck.

When they recollect their breathing she holds his face in her hands.

“What did you say?” she gasps out, eyes wide with lust and surprise.

“I love you,” he breathes, stroking her temple with his thumb. “You don’t have to say it back, but I wanted to tell you that this weekend, too. It’s hard for me to say out loud and with just us--”

She kisses him fiercely. 

“I love you, too.”

Four

When she went to work there was a flower arrangement at her desk with a note from Ashton wishing her a great last day before her vacation for her birthday and his birthday. Hers was the day before his and everyone wanted them to do a joint party when they found that out. 

“No, that’s weird,” she scrunched her nose at the suggestion.

“Yeah, we aren’t siblings. That’s gross,” he agreed.

She took the week off for their birthdays so they could maybe go to the cabin or even rent a house on the beach. She loved her birthday but whenever she made plans, they always fell through or people never showed up.

She texted him that the flowers were beautiful and she couldn’t wait to spend the day with him the next day. When she got home, he was already there wearing an all black outfit with his shirt open. He knows how much she likes seeing his chest. 

“Thank you for the flowers,” she holds up the vase of pink peonies showcasing them. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Kiss me first,” he puckers his lips at her.

“Oops, sorry,” she giggles and steps on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. They always kiss each other hello. 

“Now, go get changed. We’ve got plans,” he grins.

“What kind of plans?” 

“Look on your bed and see,” he nods to her room down the hall. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.”

She shakes her head and does what he says. On her bed is a dress she always ogled when they were at the mall, Ashton clearly bought it for her. He spoils her too much. Next to the dress is a black satin blindfold. She narrows her eyes at the blindfold but quickly changes into the dress.

“What is this for?” she asks, stepping out into the living room with the blindfold in her hands.

“For your eyes. Turn around.”

“Are we roleplaying?” she asks, turning her back to him.

“No,” he laughs, placing the fabric over her eyes. 

He helps her walk to his car and she’s asking him so many questions. He refuses to answer them and laughs at her outlandish predictions of taking her away to a private island. 

His hand is firm in hers when they’re walking to wherever they’re going. She stumbles a little because she doesn’t know the terrain but it feels like pavement under her feet. 

“Are we there yet?” she asks.

“Almost. Okay, there’s a few steps. Up, up, up, up, and last one. Good. Okay, I’m going to take it off you now.”

She feels him move behind her. He unties the blindfold slowly and it drops from her eyes. She blinks slowly to get used to the light and is met with all of their friends and family before her. There’s flower arches behind them and they’re all wearing flower crowns on their heads. 

“SURPRISE!” They shout and she gasps when they start to sing Happy Birthday.

Sarah wheels in a cake with flowers sprawled over it and her name in the middle. Y/N grasps Ashton’s hand in her own, tears forming in her eyes. His other arm wraps around her waist, his chin rests on her shoulder as he sings softly in her ear.

“...dear Y/N...Happy Birthday to you…”

She wipes at her eyes overcome with emotion from the surprise and that Ashton went through all this trouble.

“Make a wish, angel,” he murmurs in her ear.

She closes her eyes, thinks of a wish, and blows out the candles. Everyone cheers and she twists around to give Ashton a big kiss. There’s even more cheers for that and then she’s whisked away for hellos and hugs. Flowers are hanging from the ceiling like vines and she’s never been surrounded by so many flowers. 

“Were you surprised?” Sarah asks as a waiter starts to cut the cake.

“Totally surprised. But my birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she gives Ashton a side eye.

“You told me you wanted to spend it with me, so your party with everyone else is today,” he smiles. 

“And all these flowers? I love it all so much, thank you.”

“Your eyes will have that shine all night,” he grins, kissing her nose. 

One

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Ashton laughs behind her as they trek through the woods by the cabin.

After her surprise party, on her actual birthday they spent the first half watching movies and the second swimming at the beach. They had a late flight to go to the cabin. Upon arrival, Ashton spent the last hour of her birthday pleasuring her with his mouth and fingers. When the clock struck midnight, she flipped him over with a smirk.

“Happy Birthday to you,” she whispered and slid down his body so she could please him. 

She loves hearing his moans just as much as he loves hearing hers. She loves how one hand is fisted in her hair and the other rests behind his head watching her go down on him. 

“Yes, I know where I’m going. Come on birthday boy.” She ducks under a branch then sees the clearing ahead. 

“I’m twenty-seven, I’m not a boy,” he grunts.

“Sorry, old man,” she teases and he smacks her ass playfully. 

When they come into the clearing, there’s a red and white checkered blanket in the grass with a large basket in the center. Wildflowers surround it in purples, yellows, oranges and a few reds. It’s a magical place. 

“Did you do all this?” he asks seeing the set up. 

“I did. Come on, there’s more.”

They kick off their shoes and sit on the blanket. She opens the basket taking out his favorite foods and a wrapped gift. 

“I told you, you don’t have to get me anything,” he sighs while taking the gift. “You’re more than enough.”

“I know, but it’s part of my love language. And it’s homemade anyway,” she shrugs. “Open it up.”

He unwraps the corners before tearing the paper all the way off. He stares at it in his hands for a long time. She made him a shadow box frame with a picture of them when they were at the beach during sunset. It was their favorite picture and surrounding it were dried flowers. 

“Do you know what these are?” she asks, pointing to the flowers.

“Flowers?” he chuckles touching the glass. 

“This one is from the first flowers you brought me when you helped me move in, these are from our first date, this is from Christmas and the small cranberry. These are from work and my birthday, and these are from Valentine’s Day. These are all the flowers you’ve given me,” she smiles and he looks at her stunned.

“You kept them all?”

“You’re the only one who ever bought me flowers and I loved them all so now you have them, too.”

“This is incredible, I love it. Thank you,” he reaches over to give her a kiss. 

“Wait, there’s more,” she grins and reaches into the basket again. She pulls out live flowers arranged in a pretty bouquet. “These are for you.”

“Baby,” he stressed in astonishment and set the picture frame next to him. 

He pushes her back on the blanket kissing her with all he’s got. The flowers get crushed and some stick in her hair but they’re surrounded by love and the sweet smell of flowers and kiss with passion.

“Happy Birthday my love,” she gazes up at him and sticks a flower behind his ear.

Taglist: @calumance​  @in-superbloom​ @calpalirwin​ @karajaynetoday​ @wiiildflowerrr-blog1​ @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @hoodhoran​ @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @sunshineeashton​ @ashtonsunflower​​ @mymindwide​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @seanna313​ @fivesecondsofonedirection​

[kingandfireheart]

"My money would be on you."

Summary: Nesta and Azriel discussing the necklace debacle, with some nezriel Brotp moments and Azriel processing his feelings toward Elain.

Words: ~2K

Prequel to: What is it that you want, Elain?

Here's a snippet:

Azriel had forgiven his brother, but kept replaying the events of the night in his head. Did he misinterpret Elain's scent? Did Rhys not realize she was a willing participant? Did his brother really think so little of him? Did Elain hate him now? Why did she return the necklace? He knew he wasn't worthy of Elain, but then again, no one was. She was... something else. She nearly took his breath away as a human, and now as high fae, she was devastatingly gorgeous. But what was inside defied all expectations - yes, she was sweet, and kind, and full of light, but under the surface: she was fierce, brave, clever, and funny. She never once balked from him. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

“You haven’t been sleeping” Nesta observed from her chair in the family library.

Azriel looked up from the reports he was scouring through. Usually, Azriel worked in his room, allowing Nesta and Cassian the space they needed to explore their new bond. With Cassian gone with Mor to deal with the Illyrians and reinforce the wards around Emerie's shop, he had learned to enjoy Nesta’s quiet company after dinner.

“I haven’t” Azriel admitted, running a scarred hand through his hair, while schooling his expression of surprise into his usually mask of indifference. She had a way of reading him that he wasn’t used to. Most people feared him or dismissed him entirely. Only Mor had seemed to be able to get him to talk, but that had grown increasingly infrequent, with Mor's visits to the continent and the distance she had put between them since the war.

“Nightmares?” Nesta asked more quietly, as she set down her book: A romance about an Illyrian and a river nymph, she had told him when they sat down in the library.

He studied her. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the way that Nesta observed him and seemed to see things others missed, maybe it was the fact that he knew she wouldn’t judge him that made him say: “I used to have night terrors, they are a product of my childhood. I’ve had them on and off throughout the centuries. I thought I had kicked the habit, but about fifty years ago, they came back. Have been worse lately.”

He knew Nesta understood his meaning, Feyre and Cassian had told her enough. Since Rhys went Under the Mountain, the entire Court had lost something of themselves. For Azriel, it was his ability to sleep.

“You don’t take anything to help you sleep?” Nesta asked carefully. He knew she was being careful, Nesta knew that if she asked too much, he wouldn’t answer, find an excuse to disturb the peace they had found in working together.

“I have tried, but I'm either out for days, or barely functioning to the point where my senses are numb, it doesn’t help with spying.”

“Is that why you’ve been training in the middle of the night? Gwyn said she caught you up there at 2am on solstice.”

Azriel made himself chuckle. He knew Gwyn would tell Nesta, but didn’t expect her to hold onto it for so long. The priestess was his friend now and she was persistent, curious, and stronger than most people gave her credit for. “Did you ask Gwyn why she was there at 2am?”

Nesta made a face at him and said nothing. He knew Nesta had likely guessed what had him in a mood on Solstice. She had shown him as much that day. Nesta also knew about how Gwyn had taken to late night training. The same way Nesta still climbed the stairs, Cassian took to the skies, Feyre stayed up painting, and Elain strolled through her garden after a long day. They all had their ways of coping.

“Gwyn showed me a necklace someone gifted her. She asked if it was me. She said “a friend” had left it with Clotho, but no one else had come to the House that week.”

Azriel kept his face indifferent and willed his shadows to stay calm. Any reaction would be an admission, one he wasn't sure he should make. He knew where she was going with this. She knew he had left the necklace for Gwyn, and probably guessed how much he had spent on it - the necklace was worth more than most of the presents he gave on Solstice, certainly not fitting for a casual gift for a friend. He prayed Nesta wouldn't read into it. Azriel wasn't fully comfortable with the amount of female attention he received every morning. He was distant and aloof during training, but his shadows often informed him how closely the priestesses watched him. He ignored them, had been ignoring them since Cassian had asked him to help with training.

He didn't need to be thinking about any females, he reminded himself, especially after the talk with Rhys on Solstice: You will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her. He had snarled in response. Rhys rarely resorted to personal attacks. Or threats, which he had also made: If I see you panting after her again, I'll make you regret it.

Azriel had forgiven his brother, but kept replaying the events of that night in his head. Did he misinterpret Elain's scent? Did Rhys not realize she was a willing participant? Did his brother really think so little of him? Did Elain hate him now? Why did she return the necklace?

He knew he wasn't worthy of Elain, but then again, no one was. She was... something else. She nearly took his breath away as a human, and now as high fae, she was devastatingly gorgeous. But what was inside defied all expectations - yes, she was sweet, and kind, and full of light, but under the surface: she was fierce, brave, clever, and funny. She never once balked from him. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

Nesta's voice roused him from his quickly spiraling thoughts; he needed to get a grip before he revealed too much. “It had a rose on it - exactly like something I would get for Elain.”

Azriel realized that he was trapped. If he made an excuse to leave, she would know, if he brushed it off, she would know. If he hid in the shadows, she would know. If he said nothing, she would know. If he told her too much - she would know. But...Nesta was his friend - she had made that clear a week ago, when she took him down to see the heart of the house. "Just because Rhys said the House is ours, I don't want you to feel any less welcome. This is your home, and you're our family, but you're also my friend. If you would like to be," She had said. Azriel was so touched by the tender offer, he couldn’t say anything. He just wrapped his arms around Nesta and hugged her. In the days since, the two had joked about their alliance against Cassian's insanity.

Azriel decided to come clean. He knew Nesta wouldn’t interfere. Things with Elain were still tentative, and even if she was cordial with Lucien, she wouldn’t ruin her new relationships in the court. Maybe he could use a friend, especially around Elain and Gwyn. After five centuries of using Cassian as a buffer with Mor, of course his brother's mate would take up the role. In 550 years, he never thought jewelry would be the source of his problems.

He sighed, steeling himself for what was to come. Then it all came tumbling out: “I bought it for her. Gave it to her on Solstice. We... had a moment, but nothing happened. Rhys interrupted. I winnowed away. Found Gwyn in the training ring. Elain gave the necklace back. I didn't want to hold on to it, so I left it with Clotho.” He covered his face with his hands as his shadows gathered around him, shielding him from Nesta's gaze. “I fucked up. ”

After a long moment, Azriel willed himself to look up. Nesta’s expression yielded nothing - no judgement., no surprise. He wondered if Elain had already told her what had happened. Out of nowhere, she laughed. “You two would look amazing together. I don't know why I didn't consider it until now, Prythians most beautiful couple," she mused.

Azriel frowned at her, feeling the color blooming on his cheeks. He could deal with her judgement, but the teasing was too much.

Nesta collected herself, as if considering everything Azriel had just admitted to - what it meant for her friend and her sister. "So that’s why both of you were brooding after Solstice? What did Rhysand say?”

Both of you. He knew had hurt Elain. He shouldn't have let things go so far. Azriel knew his High Lord wouldn’t have told anyone what happened, so he could lie. He could say Rhys called him away to spy or something, but he couldn’t let Nesta think it was intentional to leave Elain in the hall, hurt and confused. She was fiercely protective of her sisters. “I’ve been ordered to stay away from Elain," he finally said, unable to keep the weariness out of his voice.

“Because of Lucien?” Nesta asked. “She’s not his property.” Nesta’s anger was clear - whatever kernel of power she had left shone in her eyes. Even after accepting the bond, Nesta held on to her reservations against pressures of the mating bond, claiming I chose you, Cass. Elain hasn't chosen anyone, no matter how many presents the fireling brings, when Cassian had brought it up at dinner. The subject didn't come up again.

“No, she isn’t. But keeping Lucien happy is essential to half of our alliances. The Court can't risk losing Autumn, Spring, and Jurian and Vassa. It would only isolate us in the war that's coming.” Azriel forced his voice to remain level. A war was coming, it was stupid to pretend otherwise. As much as he hated that Elain was a pawn in all of this, it made sense to play things safe, to keep her safe.

Nesta looked like she was considering the risks and said, “Last I checked, Rhysand said there was always a choice here. It doesn't make sense to take Elain's away. This is bullshit." Her brows furrowed, and then she added, a bit of mischief in her tone, "You could always just glamour your scents - it's not like you haven't done that before.”

He shadows stretched toward her, dancing in the space between their chairs, amused that she seemed to know about his past lovers. Azriel just blinked at her, the only show of surprise he allowed. Nesta's reactions were always so unpredictable, even knowing the stories Cassian had likely told her. He couldn't acknowledge that comment - Azriel had been doing it for centuries to keep Cassian from hounding him about his whereabouts and details about his companions. Even if a glamour could work, he had already decided.

He would not disobey a direct order from his High Lord, especially after Rhys had mentioned the consequences. This was different than spying - he could count on one hand that amount of times Rhys had threatened him for disobeying. “I have my orders. I won’t go against them,” Azriel said.

He would stay away from her, if only for Rhys's sake. He would never repay the debt he owed his brother. For saving him. For sacrificing himself. For giving him this life. He would kill and torture and spy to keep him and his family safe, to let his brother have this happiness after years of pain, of shouldering a burden too big for any one to carry themselves.

Nesta looked at him, as if she saw each of the thoughts going through his head. “You deserve happiness too, Az.”

Azriel gave her a small smile, one he knew she would see through. He turned back to the reports in front of him, hoping this would end the conversation. A few minutes passed, and he could still feel Nesta watching him his shadows confirmed as much.

He met her gaze as she said. “I won’t say anything, even to Cassian. Thank you for trusting me.”

He nodded to her - he did trust Nesta. He trusted that Nesta had shown him the house’s heart was to show her own - to show how similar they were. Darkness that they could acknowledge, but keep in check. They both settled back into their reading in silence.

The clock struck 9: about time for Cassian's return. Mor would winnow him back to the house soon enough. Nesta rose, closing her book, and smoothing out her dress. As she walked toward the door, she gave him a conspirator's smile and half-whispered, “If I was still a betting woman, my money would be on you. I’ve never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at you. Not even that lordling”

Azriel couldn’t help but smile at the confidence in her tone. He didn't let himself wondering whether the lordling was Elain's mate or her former fiance. He was still in awe at how Nesta had gone from an angry and miserable person who lashed out any anyone who tried talking to her to this strong warrior who understood him, who would give everything for her family. If Nesta could come back from that dark place, maybe he could let himself hope.

Hours later, when Azriel had finally resigned to sleep and he settled into bed, he saw the medicine bottle and earbuds on his night stand. He had tucked both away into a drawer after Solstice, but the House must have decided to take matters into its own hands. The faelights blinked twice as if to say good night.

Nesta was right, the House was a gossip and a busybody. Azriel chuckled to himself, saying "Good Night House."

For the first time in months, Azriel finally slept.

[scripts4dreamers]

I literally JUST sat down, pt.3

Part One, Part Two, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

AN: The case stalls, but no one’s willing to give up on you just yet. Characters: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

(Longer one this time! As always, let me know if you want to get tagged in the next part.)

—————————-

“I hate this,” you whined, as Garcia pulled you through the crowded streets, “why didn’t we drive straight to the office, again?”

“Because, my little Grumpy Gus, you look like you barely slept, and this place has the best coffee in the city.” She promised, giving your arm a squeeze.

You grumbled under your breath, but didn’t complain, letting Garcia ply you with endless cups of coffee.

“Are we getting for the whole team?” You asked, your mind drifting to your late night message to Spencer.

Garcia paused, her eyes narrowing with suspicion, “Yeeeeees, why?”

You shrugged, “I was just asking. No need to read into anything.”

“This is about Spencer, I can tell. Spill it.”

You groaned, letting your head thump down onto the table, “How do you do that?”

“I’m a veritable fountain of knowledge, Y/N, you know this,” she teased, “plus I speak fluent Y/N, especially the little known Spencer Reid dialect.”

“Witch!” You said accusingly, “You’re a witch!”

“You flatter me,” she winked, tapping your forearm, “now spill it.”

You sighed, taking another sip of your coffee, “It’s nothing, I just-I messaged him, alright?”

“You did what?”

“I messaged him! And it was stupid and he didn’t even respond, so it’s not important.” You explained, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Penelope gasped, “He didn’t respond?”

You shook your head, “Nope. Nothing, look-“

You took out your phone and glanced briefly at the screen, frowning when you spotted the notification from the night before. You swiped up, your eyes tracing his response. Something in your stomach pinched.

“Huh.”

“What?” Penelope asked, “What is it? You’re legally obligated to tell me, it’s in the rules.”

“He-uh-“ you stared at the screen, still frowning, “he responded. I must’ve fallen asleep…”

“Ooohhh my gosh, what does it say? What did you say? Is it romantic?”

You pressed your lips together, your mind whirling at a thousand miles an hour as you try to figure exactly what Spencer meant by “I did.”.

“It’s-“ you shook your head, “I don’t know really.”

Something in your tone must’ve let on how conflicted you were feeling because Penelope let the matter slide, just giving your arm a comforting squeeze.

“Let’s get to work, Sugar,” she said, standing and extending her hand for you to hold, “we’ve got crimes to solve.”

You gave her a weak smile but let her pull you to your feet, trying to force your mind away from Spencer and back onto your case.

“That we do, Garcia, that we do.”

——————————-

“We come bearing gifts,” Garcia announced as she pushed open the door to the BAU, “sustenance in the form of sweet, sweet caffeine.”

Your eyes instantly flew to Spencer, giving him a weak smile which, to your intense relief, he returned. You also noticed, with a rush of fondness, that he’d kept your side of the desk clear.

“Garcia you’re an angel,” Emily smiled, pushing away from her desk to accept a cup.

“Speaking of angels,” you sighed, carrying a cup of coffee flavored sugar over to Spencer and taking your seat next to him, “have we got an ID on our victim yet?”

“Marcus Wilcox,” Spencer said, flipping open the file closest to you, “25 year old drug addict and male prostitute. He went missing two weeks ago and was reported missing by his best friend.”

You glanced over at the picture of the man whose body had been left in your bookstore and felt the familiar pang of sorrow in your chest. There was always going to be another one, another life cut short, another dead son or daughter who’s family would grieve their loss for years. It was enough to put a damper on anyone’s morning.

You could feel eyes on you, heavy and questioning and you found you couldn’t look up to meet their gaze.

“Anything unusual in the M.E.’s report?” You asked, still avoiding the eyes.

“All the mutilation was done postmortem, so that rules out sadism as a motive,” JJ suggested, accepting a cup of coffee gratefully.

“High levels of caffeine in the blood too,” Emily pointed out, “and…” she pressed her lips together.

“What, Em?” You asked.

She looked up at you nervously, something like sympathy in her eyes as she said, “Biscuits, in his stomach. They found brown butter biscuits and coffee in his stomach.”

Your blood froze and you felt a rush of nausea. You put your cup down, suddenly not thirsty anymore.

“Is...that significant, somehow?” Hotch asked, his perpetual frown firmly in place.

“They’re the best sellers at Y/N’s coffee shop,” Spencer said, something off in his voice, “she sells them fresh every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.”

You looked over, shocked, and noticed that Spencer was working his jaw, like he was angry, his one hand curled into a fist under his chin. You itched to reach out and touch his forearm, like you once would have, but you restrained yourself.

“What the hell is this guy doing?” Emily asked, “Why go through all this trouble to personalize the crime? What’s driving him?”

“It’s gotta be erotomania, right?” Morgan asked, “Someone’s trying to get Y/N’s attention.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you insisted, frustrated with having the same conversation again and again, “stalkers don’t start off with an elaborate and expertly executed murder. If it was erotomania, why not call first, or email or leave notes at my apartment? There’s been no build up to this sort of violence.”

“Plus, the victim has no connection to Y/N,” Spencer pointed out, “erotomaniacs want to reinforce their supposed devotion to the object of their affection, if he wanted to do that he would’ve picked someone Y/N knew, like an ex-boyfriend or an enemy of some kind.”

“Some who he thinks Y/N would actually want dead,” Emily agreed.

“Reid and Y/L/N are right, there’s something more to this, something we’ve missed,” Hotch said, “Garcia, I want you to go through everything you can find about Marcus Wilcox and see if he came into Y/N’s store at all. Maybe he’s a customer who was rude and offended the UnSub. After that, comb through Y/L/N’s life again; old friends, high school classmates, college professors, agents she worked with on cases, anyone who could have formed an attachment and been stalking her without us knowing.”

Garcia paled under her Barbie pink lipstick, “Sir, I-“

“It’s fine, Garcia,” you assured, giving her a soft smile, “I’ve got nothing to hide. You’ll have to get permission from the CIA to access some of my case files though, there’s some sensitive data in those.”

“I’ll call the director myself,” Hotch said, “that’ll expedite the process.”

“But, sir, sorting through all that data could take weeks,” you pointed out, “what do we do in the meantime?”

Hotch pressed his lips together, and you sighed, sensing his next words before they even came out of his mouth.

“We work cases, as usual,” he said, “Y/N, yours will still be our priority but, until we get a new lead…”

“We’re stuck.” You finished. You breathed in, trying to calm your restless nerves, and pushed yourself up, “Well, it was lovely seeing you guys again, but I guess that’s my cue.”

“What?” Spencer said, sitting up suddenly, “No, Y/N you can’t just leave, if there’s someone out there delusional enough to do this to get your attention then it’s not safe.”

“I’m with Boy Wonder,” Garcia agreed, shooting you an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, Sugar Plum but this whole thing is just icky and gross and I’d feel much better knowing you were here.”

You looked around, but we’re met with a wall of concerned faces. You wanted to scream. Nothing about this situation was fair. You hated feeling helpless, it was why you’d joined the FBI in the first place and, ultimately, why you’d left.

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do while we wait for a lead?” You asked, “I can’t go home, I can’t go back to work, I can’t just sit here all day until my assigned babysitter for the night is free.”

“You could join us on cases,” Hotch said simply, “if I’m not mistaken, you’re still officially an agent so you’re cleared to be in the field.”

Spencer and Emily sucked in a breath in unison, and you shut your eyes. Shit.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Emily asked, “You never actually resigned?”

You shot her a sheepish look, “I meant to! I did! It was just,” you shrugged, “at first I wanted the safety blanket in case normal life didn’t work out and, once it did, I just-“ you trailed off.

Truth be told, you didn’t know why you’d never left. It was really only one document that you needed to sign, it would take less than three minutes to complete, there was nothing stopping you. You’d even filled it out once or twice but, for some reason, you always stopped before actually submitting it.

You shot a nervous look at Spencer, who was determinedly avoiding looking at anything except a particular patch of empty air, and sighed.

“So...what does that mean?” Morgan asked, “You’re back on the team?”

“Agent Y/L/N has technically been on an extended sabbatical for the past year,” Hotch explained, “ideally we would be able to keep her on in an advisory capacity while we work her case but, with her safety being such an issue, for the time being, yes, she’s back on the team.”

——————————-

You collapsed into your old seat on the jet, exhaustion weighing you down like a ton of bricks. It had taken almost no time for Hotch and Garcia to brief you on the team’s newest case and, before you could even pack a proper Go-Bag, you were wheels up and on your way to Tampa Bay. It was a fairly standard case, or as standard as it got for the BAU at least, and it had only taken three days to catch the guy, but it had still taken the life right out of you. Hotch had noticed your distress and sent you ahead to the jet with Rossi while the rest of the team finished packing up. On the one hand you resented being treated like a child, on the other….well, you were exhausted.

Rossi sat down across the aisle from you, handing you a mug of warm hot chocolate, which you accepted gratefully. He raised his eyebrows in that grandfatherly way, like he was asking you a question, and you smiled.

“What?” You asked, “I can tell you’re thinking something.”

“You love this” he said simply.

“Love it?” You laughed incredulously, “Rossi I haven’t been this tired since I spent three full days setting up my shop. I’m exhausted.”

“And you love it,” he insisted, “I can see that Evil Genius sparkle in those pretty eyes of yours.” He gestured at your face and you smiled, “Not that I blame you. Catching killers tends to be more exciting than baking cookies.”

“Hey, I thought you loved it when I made cookies!” You complained, whacking his hand away in mock outrage, “You said they were your favorite!”

“They are, I’m just making a simple observation, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” you said suspiciously.

“Here’s another one; there’s tension between you and the Good Doctor,” he continued.

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t disagree, letting your mind wander back to the last three days. After Hotch’s little announcement to the team, things had been...odd with Spencer. Actually, you couldn’t be sure that was the catalyst, for all you knew things could’ve been weird before that but, now it was just impossible to miss. He would bounce between avoiding you like the plague and actively seeking out your company; sitting next to you at dinner one minute and then purposely standing as far away as possible the next minute. It sucked. It sucked and it hurt your feelings and it was confusing, so there was no point in denying it to Rossi.

“I just wish he’d talk to me, you know?” You said, “Or yell, or shout or something. Like, if you’re angry then be angry. At least then we could talk it out, but this-“ you shook your head, “I hate it.”

“Ah, kid,” Rossi commiserated, patting your knee comfortingly, “I don’t think he’s angry, and that’s probably part of the problem.” You looked up, confused, and Rossi continued, “If he was angry, things would be a lot simpler. Like you said, you could just yell for a bit, and then it’d be over. No, I think Spencer’s just hurt and confused. He blames himself for you leaving and, now that you’re back, he’s happy, but he feels guilty about being happy because you’re in danger.” He explained, “It’s a confusing time for him, for you both.”

You sat up, “Wait why would he blame himself for me leaving?”

Rossi looked down, like he was thinking hard but, before he could say anything, you heard footsteps and the rest of your team boarded the jet. You shot Rossi a look that said “we’ll finish this later”, and then turned away, smiling at your friends.

“Hey,” you greeted, letting Morgan ruffle your hair.

JJ gave you a small smile, but your eyes went straight to Spencer, Rossi’s words bouncing around inside your head. To your surprise, he collapsed into the seat beside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, “I-uh-I was hoping we could talk.”

Your heart leapt, but you tried to keep your face neutral as you answered, “Sure thing, Reid. What about? The case?”

“Actually,” he said, his voice still low, “I wanted to talk about you.”

You pressed your lips together, but nodded, following Spencer’s lead and leaning in to avoid being overheard as your team settled in for the flight home.

Spencer was silent for a moment, like he was thinking, and then, “Why didn’t you resign? I thought you wanted out.”

“I did, or I thought I did. Reid, when I first left I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I guess I wanted to be able to come back if things went wrong.” You explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You paused for a moment, “Spence-“

His breath hitched in his throat, “The first time, when you were thinking about leaving. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-“ you sighed, the exhaustion rolling over you like a river, “I didn’t want to worry you until I was sure and then, after that….” you shrugged, “it all happened so fast. I’m sorry.”

He nodded, like he understood, and you watched some of the tension leech out of his body. For the first time he met your eye, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

“I’m sorry too.” He said.

“Spence you’ve got nothing to-“

“I do,” he interrupted, “I promised you that we’d always be best friends and then, after you left, I just stopped trying.”

You were conflicted. Some part of you had been longing to hear this for months, ever since the texts, visits and calls had stopped out of the blue but, now that you were actually hearing it, it just made you sad.

“You did try,” you reminded him, “you came to the store a few times, helped me organize my books.”

He shook his head, “Not often enough. It just-it just got so hard, you know? Seeing you every weekend and knowing you weren’t going to be there when I got to work the next day,” he explained, his voice cracking, “watching you have this whole life outside of us, it just started to feel like maybe I didn’t fit-maybe we didn’t fit.” He gestured to the team, “And I thought maybe you were better off-“ he trailed off.

“Hey,” you cut in, reaching out and covering his hand with yours, “hey, listen to me. You guys are my family. You’ll always be my family, no matter what happens. I’m sorry you ever felt like anything else was even possible. I could never be better off without you guys.”

The hint of a smile played at the edges of his mouth, and he squeezed your hand gently.

“If it’s okay,” he said, still smiling hopefully, “I’d really like for us to be friends again. I know I broke a solemn oath but, if you’ll trust me, I’ll never let it happen again, I promise.”

Your smile felt so wide that it hurt your cheeks as you pulled him into a hug, savoring the way he chuckled as he hugged you back.

“Of course, Spence,” you smiled, still holding him close, “of course.”

“God, I missed you,” he admitted into your neck, “no one else pretends to care about Star Trek as well as you do.”

You laughed and let him go, feeling the distance that had formed over the last year vanishing bit by bit.

“I’ve missed you too, Doctor Reid.” You said, “But, I’ll admit, I haven’t missed the Star Trek talk as much.”

“None of us miss the Star Trek talk,” Derek said, making you both jump, “honestly, I miss not knowing about Star Trek.”

“Preach,” JJ agreed, “Y/N/N, I know you’re in charge of what we watch tonight but I’m begging you, please pick something made for adults? I’ve been watching nothing but Marvel and Disney for months.”

“But I love Disney,” Emily complained.

“Rest assured,” Rossi interrupted, “it’s my entertainment system and I don’t even have any Disney.”

“You have Lord of The Rings though, right?” Spencer asked.

You watched your team bicker amongst themselves, laughing like you hadn’t laughed in months. Being together like this was like a healing balm for your frayed nerves, bringing you back to a place of calm, like you’d just come home from a long trip. In the back of your mind, you knew there was still work to be done, old wounds you needed to address and mysteries you needed to solve but, for now, you were just happy to be with your family. For now, this was enough.

—————————

Spencer felt like he was living in some sort of strange fever dream, like all his months of sulking had finally driven him mad and now he was physically imagining things as he helped you out of his car. Touching you always made him a little dizzy but, over the years that you’d worked together every day, he’d managed to build up a tolerance, a tolerance that was now almost completely gone. It had been months since everyone had agreed to have family dinner at Rossi’s, but now that you were back, he’d insisted. Spencer was on cloud nine. He had his best friend back and, for the first time since you’d left, things felt good again, like he was exactly where he should be.

As you sat around Rossi’s table, swapping stories and reminiscing over the past, Spencer had to fight to stop from staring at you. You were really there. He could reach out and touch you. If he called your name you would respond and your eyes would light up the way they always had, like he was the only person in the world you wanted to see. It was surreal. In the back of his mind, Spencer knew he was being selfish, that he shouldn’t want you to stay this time and he should be itching to find out who was stalking you so that you could go back to the life you’d built. But he wasn’t.

When JJ had gotten the call that you needed them, Spencer had thought his heart was going to implode from all the pent up longing he’d kept stored away. Seeing you hadn’t exactly improved things. He’d spent the entire day trying to hold himself together, unsure of how to act around you, playing through every single memory he’d been keeping repressed for all this time like it would somehow give him the answer. God, half the time he’d wanted to scream, the other half he’d wanted to wrap you up in his arms and never let you go ever again. As his eyes traced the plains of your face, plains he’d memorized a million different times, he felt a flicker of that old flame burn in his chest, like the embers of a fire that had never really been put out, and he sighed.

“Hey, kid, where’s your head?” Morgan asked, his voice soft enough to avoid being overheard.

“Hmm? What?” Spencer replied, tearing his eyes away from you as you laughed at something Garcia said.

“Your head,” he repeated, where’s it at?”

Spencer thought for a minute, and then smiled, “I’m good. Really good, actually.”

Morgan nodded, a little too knowingly for Spencer’s liking, but let the matter drop. Just then, the unmistakable ping of Hotch’s cell cut through the late night air and, as if on cue, every eye in the house turned to face the sound. Hotch examined his phone, his frown deepening and sending shivers of worry up Spencer’s neck. He wanted to say something, to stop Hotch from giving them whatever horrible piece of news was on that phone, but he couldn’t. He just sat and waited, like everybody else.

“Hotch?” JJ eventually asked, her hand gripping yours, hard.

“They-uh-” Hotch started, showing a rare moment of nerves, “they found another note at Y/N’s apartment.”

Several people swore, Garcia whimpered, Derek slammed his fist against the table, but you just stared straight ahead, your face stony and unmoving. Spencer wanted to reach out, but he was frozen in place.

“What did it say?” You asked, “Is it another love poem?”

“No,” Hotch answered, “it’s a string of numbers; 29.07.15/18.01.14/38.8765.77.0006.”

“Reid, you got that?” Morgan asked, shooting him a look.

Spencer felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, but he nodded, “I’ve got it.”

“But, that’s not all, is it?” Rossi asked.

Hotch shook his head, “They found another body. This time in an empty storefront a few blocks away from Y/N’s apartment.”

“Probably the site I’d picked out for the second branch,” you supplied, “I just signed the deal three weeks ago.”

You buried your face in your hands, sighing as the atmosphere around the dinner table took a turn for the worst.

“Well,” Emily said, “Looks like we’ve got our lead.”

Hotch nodded, “Let’s get to work.”

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

Taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes​, @confused-and-really-hungry, @word-scribbless​, @reidloversisforever​, @ashookykooky​, @l0ve-0f-my-life​, @shilohpug​, @tangerinenotions95​, @petitchatonbleu, @pirateismywayofspeaking​, @must-be-a-weasley-92​, @whovianayesha, @holding-on-to-my-youth​

[shiedagabe]

A Stormy Day

GIF Belongs to: Omgreedus, Wattpad.com

Word count: 1000

Genre: Fluff, Contemporary

A storm is a disturbance that might scare the hearts of many, but not yours. You have always enjoyed looking out the window during stormy days, hearing the rain tapping on the window while hearing the distant thunder roar with unimaginable might, a union of the utopian sky and the malformed earth. You saw many people and many couples as well, seeking refuge anywhere they could – inside restaurants, coffee shops and phone booths. Some of them even accepted the normalcy of said storm and embraced the rain. Just like a ruined day or a depressing mood all of these things do come and go. Although you did find funny that your boyfriend was simultaneously scared and was caring for you. 

Every time a lightning struck he would slightly jump up, which made you giggle for a moment, and, in turn, make him happy as well. Despite this inconvenience, he was preparing some candles and some books he could read while you laid next to him in case the power did go out. Despite not looking like so, he appeared to be a savant and intelligent. You didn’t know where his ideals about morality came from, since he grew up in a dysfunctional household, but you knew for certain that they were more than just. He liked to help others in need even though he wasn’t doing so great himself, either physically and mentally. That mattered not, however, you were there to take care of him and you genuinely didn’t mind doing so. A soft smile and a misty-eyed look were more than enough of a reward for you. 

 You decided to go near him and help him out with some stuff like preparing some food that you could heat up in the fireplace later or just help set up the candles that were scattered around the rooms. The day was growing even dimmer, you couldn’t tell where the sun was and all of the electronics around the house were turned off in case a lightning struck. You were also bored out of your mind because you had nothing else to do, everything was prepared and you couldn’t do anything with Artie like watch TV or go outside for a walk. That’s when he told you to sit on the couch; apparently he had prepared something for you in occasions just as this one. You could feel yourself fumbling around with your own emotions; you didn’t know what to feel. You felt anxious because you didn’t have a lot of money and if he went out of his way to buy something for you then surely it must be expensive. You also felt happy; even though he usually doesn’t do these kinds of things (mostly because you want save your money up) it’s always nice to receive a gift from time to time. We he came back he was giggling to himself – he thought he found the gift that perfectly described you, although he refused to tell you what he had bought you and told you to hurry up, he wanted to see your face sparkle up like a light-ridded night sky. You tried to open it carefully, despite what Artie told you, because you wanted to keep the paper wrapping the present came in, all of these tiny things always meant a lot to you and you didn’t want to lose this one either. He gave you a Walkman and you couldn’t be more than happy. You were enthusiastic, in fact, because he knew you loved hearing music all of the time – it reminded you of moments passed and you always enjoyed reinforcing your emotions by listening to a song on the radio. He nervously told you that maybe if you could hear music everywhere you went you’d think about him more often. That, of course, was a silly statement, you already thought about him, anyway, but the gift in itself was amazing. You gave him a huge hug and told him that was everything you ever wanted which was, in fact, true. Walkman’s were pretty recent news at the time and having one made you feel extremely special, but now you kind of felt some remorse because you didn’t have something to give him back. You were going to excuse yourself after things had settled down so you could go buy something outside, but thunder struck and the light was now out. Luckily, your Walkman ran on batteries, so you could listen to it regardless of the weather, so you turned your little friend on and sat with your head on his shoulder until, eventually, both of you dozed off.

Those times were different times, and although you felt the same at the time you can’t tell if it’s true anymore. You still consider yourselves friends, that is, in all actuality, correct, but I guess feelings do fade over time, like youth and young love. However, you have kept your Walkman near and dear to your heart. It was the first time that someone outside of your family had loved you unconditionally and although you remember those times with not only some distress, you feel comfortable knowing that things deescalated naturally. The Walkman does still work, curiously, so you decided to go buy some cassette tapes near your pawn shop. They were expensive as all living hell, especially because they have to keep them in mint condition, even though people rarely listen to them anymore. You decided to come home and try the cassette tape out, and, wouldn’t you know it, it started raining. You started getting teary-eyed, like he once was, but you moved on inside despite what you were feeling. You laid on the couch and you heard the satisfying click of the Walkman. The music started playing with a little bit of static – the device was fifty years old at this point, it was honestly a surprise that it was still playing. Amazingly, the song that you had bought was the same one that you played when you first got the device – a rush of emotions filled you and you felt more than incredibly comfortable on your couch, like he was still there. Surrounded by such a positive aura, you decided you could finally get some rest knowing that love, no matter what kind, is eternal.

[padfootagain]

Always

Next trope for my winter event will be one bed, with our favourite Jedi, Obi-Wan!

I hope you all like it, it's just fluff!!

Do I know anything about the climate on Alderaan in winter? Absolutely not, but I don't exactly care.

Gif not mine

Word Count: 3097

There was snow outside, and a loud wind blowing. Sky grey with clouds that didn't seem willing to move away, and speeders hurrying back and forth through the main street. The town went on for miles all around you, and yet it was merely a little city for the planet's standard. The complicated and elegant architecture, showing the wealth and skill of the people of Alderaan, made every building magical, and the white snow that had settled on the crevasses of the sculpted façades made it all the more beautiful.

However, you were not on Alderaan to enjoy the magic of the wintery season. You were there on a mission for the Jedi Order.

Your friend Obi-Wan was accompanying you to retrieve and bring back to the Senate a valuable copy of the decree stating the partnership between Alderaan and a nearby planet of their system. It wasn't exactly the most excited mission you had been on, or so you had thought. That was before your contact on the planet was found dead.

And now, you and Obi-Wan were on the run.

You had left the capital for this little town, and hoped to find a way off the planet as fast as you could. However, the magical weather seemed to play against you, and all the transports were stuck on the ground until further notice.

You had no choice but to hope for a better weather the next day, along with a safe passage off the planet.

Your hand came to nonchalantly rest upon your chest, touching the decree safely hidden in your long brown robes.

The sun was setting already, the season shortening the days, and the question of finding a shelter for the night started to seriously worry you.

"I think there is a hotel of some sort, straight ahead. Do you see it? Up the street," Obi-Wan told you, as if reading your mind.

You hated it when he acted this way. When he answered your question before you could ask it. You had no doubt that it wasn't a mind trick, your own defences were way too powerful to allow anyone into your thoughts, talented Jedi or not. He just knew you that well. After years and years of friendship, training together as Padawans, now both of you Masters, you knew each other better than you knew yourselves. And sometimes, you hated the fact that he simply knew you too well.

"I'm freezing," you admitted, tightening your robes around your shivering frame. "We have to find shelter for the night.

"We will."

Ha, that overconfident tone of his. You hated that as well about him, it was driving you up the walls.

Which he clearly felt, as he turned to you with an amused smile, and that made you even madder.

Although, you weren't angry, just mad. There was a difference between the two when it came to Obi-Wan: he was annoying you to no end, and yet you could never be tired of his presence by your side.

You chose to ignore his glance, and hurried up the busy street instead. Up ahead, a speeder was stuck under a deep layer of snow, and five people were struggling to get it out. Had you not been under such danger yourself, you would have gladly used the force to help them. But you couldn't take the risk to draw too much attention to yourself. You reckoned your Jedi clothes were doing a good enough job for that already. Which brought you to your next worry.

"We should change our clothes tonight," you told Obi-Wan. "Our robes are kind of… not mingling well with the scenery."

"You're right," he agreed with a nod.

"We should find some new clothes before going to that hotel."

"Where to?"

You looked on both sides of the street, and spotted a shop a few meters further. Obi-Wan silently followed you there.

It was a strange thing to be on a mission with him again. You hadn't since the beginning of the war. He was always off somewhere playing the General, while you were more on spying missions than pure military. Your skills for reckon missions were of value as well, and you seldom found yourself in big battles Obi-Wan had grown used to handle. You were surprised by the Council's decision to send the two of you to Alderaan, especially with Anakin and Ahsoka off fighting a battle on the other side of the Galaxy. But who were you to question the Council's orders. As Obi-Wan kept on reminding you, if you had wanted to change their minds, then you shouldn't have refused the seat that was offered to you.

However, you were aware that politics were far from your forte. You were a woman of actions first. Obi-Wan was 'the Negociator', he was the one in your team with good words and manners who was able to sort any situation – or most of them at least – by talking his way through it. You were more of a lightsaber sort of Jedi.

Maybe that was the reason why the two of you worked so well as a team. If Obi-Wan was more diplomatic than you, you were also quicker at taking decisions and weighing risks. Besides, you were both gifted with a strong bond to the Force and great skills in combat.

Oh, and you loved flying still, unlike him.

You bought some warmer clothes and hid your lightsabers well under your coats, along with the decree. Your own clothes were hidden in a backpack you bought. You were thus wearing some brown leather pants, large boots perfect against the cold, and had bought a new brown coat designed against the dropping temperatures. Obi-Wan had settled for some classic beige pants and a long coat as well. You were now better equipped to walk through the city unnoticed. And well, the way he looked in these clothes didn't make things easier for you, but you tried to push the thought in the darkest corner of your mind and walked on.

You weren't aware of the fact that Obi-Wan was thinking the exact same thing about your civilian clothes, but he did. He would never confess some thoughts to you though.

The snow fell even more heavily than before, by now, it was almost impossible to see more than a few meters ahead. The speeders had all stopped, and the wind blew stronger. With that kind of weather, you would probably stay stuck on Alderaan longer than a night. You pushed the thought away though. No need to darken a future so uncertain, you forced yourself to focus on the issue near at hand. You reminded yourself of the old lessons your master had told you, about focusing on the present. You didn't always respect the lessons you had once been taught though. By your side, Obi-Wan's beard was covered with white snowflakes by now, and the sight brought an amused smile to your lips.

You walked inside the hotel a few minutes later, and asked for two rooms at the reception.

Waiting for the employee to check the rooms available, you couldn't help but eavesdrop the conversation between two men behind you in the hall.

"They're Jedi, they won't be hard to spot! Long cloak and lightsaber at their belt, and it's done!"

You and Obi-Wan exchanged a silent glance.

"The reward is huge, there'll be a lot of people on the bait!" the other thug replied.

"We're the first to know about it, we are one step ahead! Come on, let's look for them! We'll check the spaceport first."

You gave Obi-Wan a look that meant 'I told you so' while the two bandits exited the building, and the Master by your side gave you an approbative nod. You had been right to change clothes. And not only because Obi-Wan looked very handsome in these ones…

The employee of the hotel came back, but there was only one bedroom left. You couldn't take the risk to remain out in the open, and you both knew it. So, you took the key with a nod as a thanks, and went off looking for the right room.

In the elevator, Obi-Wan heaved a sigh, and brushed the snowflakes off his beard.

"Looks like we're not the only one stuck here for the night," you pointed out in a conversational tone.

"Indeed." Obi-Wan nodded, still stroking his beard.

"It also means that the men after our… package are still here as well."

"You heard the two geniuses in the hall. They're just the beginning of our trouble."

"We should call Anakin and Ahsoka in reinforcement. They could be an entire army for all we know."

But Obi-Wan shook his head.

"They're busy enough with their own assignment. Besides, if we can't fly off the planet, then they can't fly to the planet either."

"That… is a valid point. But maybe they can reach someone who can help here."

"Or we can handle the situation ourselves. Since when do you think twice about fighting?"

"I don't fight battles I cannot win. Then I avoid them your way."

"Negociating?"

"Running away."

"Ha… very funny…"

He was looking for an ironical tone, but ended up chuckling.

"Besides, with Anakin as a Padawan, falling back is sometimes the only way to avoid having him doing something stupid and ridiculously dangerous," he went on, but you shook your head with amusement.

"Excuses, excuses…"

The door of the elevator opened, leaving you to a sight of a richly decorated corridor, although it seemed a little old-fashioned. You found your room easily, and were not surprised to discover the only bed there.

"I'll take the ground," Obi-Wan spontaneously proposed, but you merely rolled your eyes in answer.

"Don't be ridiculous. For how long have we known each other?"

"Far too long to answer that question."

"With the weather outside, it will get colder in too. You'll freeze without a decent blanket. Don't be ridiculous."

"I was simply being… polite."

You rolled your eyes again, but there was a playful smile on his lips that made you wait for his next tease.

"I heard that you didn't like sharing a room with Master Windu…"

"He snores!" you replied.

"So if I do snore…"

"I will throw you out. Yes. Precisely."

You both held each other's gaze for a moment, serious, but it only lasted an instant. Before long, you both broke into laughter.

"I will wake you up if you snore though," you warned him more seriously, and he merely doubled with laughter.

You didn't like the way his laugh made your heart warm in your chest, as if it turned into a burning star. You didn't like how happy it made you to be near him now. You didn't like how much you trusted him. You felt guilty for it all, and at the same time, not guilty at all. You couldn't see how your feelings for him could be a bad thing, they felt so… right.

You dropped your guilt to the ground, and smiled at him instead. After all, these feelings were far from new. It seemed they had always been with you, for as long as you had known him. And you knew he felt this way as well.

The knowledge that he felt the same came piercing your heart in every happy and painful ways possible. Because the man you loved shared your feelings, but you couldn't be together.

A Jedi's life was a lonely one.

"Right or left side?" Obi-Wan asked, throwing his coat onto the chair and nodding at the bed, tearing you out of your thoughts.

"Right, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

You both got ready for bed, and soon, you were both under the warm blanket, lying in the dim light coming through the curtains. The yellowish glimmer of the street lampposts and the houses all around gave a strange atmosphere to the room, soothing and warm and familiar. Obi-Wan could feel the way your weight shaped the mattress, the way it yielded under you, caving in to embrace your shape. He could feel how the blanket wrapped itself around you as well. He wished he could hold you the way the bed embraced you. But he couldn't.

There was a whisper coming from the street, from the humming of the speeders and the distant conversations. It was soothing, so much so that it was already lulling you to sleep. And Obi-Wan could feel it, by the way you rested on the bed, by how your breathing became deeper and deeper. It wasn't very surprising that you would be exhausted, the mission was intense and dangerous. You must have been just as exhausted as he was.

He could feel your hand close to his, just a few centimetres away, and yet unreachable. But at least, you were here.

Obi-Wan relaxed, after being vigilant for so long. He couldn't help it, not while he was lying by your side. Your presence was too soothing for him to stay as tense as he was before. You had always had this way to soothe him, calm him down, which he didn't like at all, because it was terribly unproductive for his work. He needed a certain level of tension through his body to be as aware of his environment as the situation required. But then, you came along, and he was doomed to fail.

He closed his eyes, and focused not on the soft sounds of the street but on your breathing, on the rhythm with which you inhaled and exhaled, and he pictured the air passing your lips in one direction or the other while all tensions left him. The sound was more reassuring than any other sound in the universe. Except for your laughter, perhaps.

He was about to surrender to sleep when your rhythm changed. Becoming a little more erratic, breaths held longer. You let out a little groan.

And then, you snored.

Not too loudly, but enough to be called a snore, and Obi-Wan's awareness focused again, as he smiled at the sound. He forced his stingy eyes to open and he looked at you.

Lips slightly parted, and hair already a mess, you looked so peaceful then. He couldn't stop his mind from thinking beautiful too, and he hated himself for it. He wasn't supposed to feel the way he did for you, the Order held strict rules against it all. And yet, how could his love for you be wrong when it felt so… right.

You snored again, more loudly this time, and after a few minutes, Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if you kept on snoring all night long.

So, he gently rubbed your shoulder, until the sounds disappeared and your eyes opened.

"Som'ing wrong?" you mumbled with tiredness and sleep distorting your words.

"No, we're safe. You're just snoring."

You rubbed your eyes, chasing sleep away, and frowned.

"Me? Snoring?"

"I bet it was worse than Master Windu…"

"Ha… very funny," you replied in a yawn.

"Sorry to wake you, but…"

"No, no. You did well. Sorry."

You turned to your side, hoping that the change of position would solve the problem. You were facing Obi-Wan, who had turned to his side with you.

You kept on staring at each other for a while, none of you noticing your smiles. It just felt so right to be this close, staring at each other, studying the other to carve their features in your mind so you would never forget them.

A thousand words could have never expressed the way you felt for each other. There was something that ran deep into you that was entirely his, and there was a part of him he treasured that belonged to none but you. It was ineffable, the way you felt for each other, and there was no more certain truth than the knowledge that you would both forever feel this way.

And the words could never be openly spoken, you could never confess your feelings for him, and he could never speak out loud how much he loved you. None of it mattered though. You didn't need to say it all, your eyes spoke better than your tongues then. Or sometimes, some innocent words held more meaning than their mere definition.

"Obi-Wan?"

Your voice wasn't even a whisper, it was just a breath leaving your lungs, delicate and fragile that could have been destroyed by a mere breeze. But in the quiet room, it was more than enough for him to hear.

"Yes, Y/N?" he answered, his tone as soft as yours.

"I just meant to say…"

That I love you more than anything, that I'll never stop loving you. No matter if we are separated by galaxies or death or mere inches, I'll always love you just as ardently and my heart will always be yours.

"It's good to work with you again," was all that passed your smiling lips.

He answered your sad smile by one of his own.

"I just…" you went on, stuttering under his intense blue eyes. "Of all the Jedi in the order, you're the one I trust the most. I know… I know you'll be here for me if I need you."

Your hand rested on the sheet between the two of you, barely inches away from his fingers. And a thousand times before, he had stopped himself from reaching you, and he knew he would stop himself a thousand times more in his lifetime.

But not this time.

This time, his fingers crossed the unreachable distance, to rest upon yours, and you held hands, trying to carry all your love and care for each other through the tender gesture.

But his eyes spoke better, and when he answered, his words meant so much more than what they were supposed to mean.

I love you, Y/N. I always have, and I always will. No matter if we can be together or not, my heart will forever be yours.

It did not matter that he couldn't actually speak his mind nor act the way he longed to, though. It had never mattered, and would never matter. Your love was more than kisses and touches, it was a feeling transcending rules and time and space.

You loved each other, and it was all that mattered. And when he spoke, the promise was meant for him being there for you, but for so much more as well. You knew it, and it was enough.

"Always, Y/N. Always."

 ************************************************************************* 

Tag list : @ponycake27​ @horsesreign​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @jbluevelvet​ @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​ @stuckupstucky​ @snek-shit​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @i-padfootblack-things​  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy​ @addictedtofictionalcharacters​ @wangmangagavroche​ @yana-versio​ @goldenor5​

[theliterateape]

Why Keep Giving Facebook My Business?

By David Himmel

It was the day after Christmas, 1996. I was a senior in high school on winter break. My friends and I piled into Brad Feely’s red Jeep Cherokee—me in the trunk because there weren’t enough seats for all of us and I was the smallest and cramming into a car too small for the passenger load is what high school kids do. We were headed to the mall to return ill-fitting gifts and fuck around because fucking around at the mall is—was—what high school kids do.

Brad had some things to return or exchange at Abercrombie & Fitch. He was at the checkout counter with the young woman making the exchanges. The rest of us wandered around the store. I started throwing on shirts, coats, hats, scarves, and such and acted out a runway fashion show. My friends giggled. I went bigger with my one-man flash mob fashion show. Other customers stared, some laughed, some ignored me. I went bigger. My friends laughed harder. Other customers laughed harder and tried to ignore me. I had achieved my goal. I’d fucked around in a store and made people laugh.

I took off the clothes, placed them back on the racks and shelves and walked up to Brad still at the counter. The employee had stepped into the back to retrieve something.

“Almost done?” I asked him.

He whispered to me, “You won’t believe what this girl just said about you.”

“What.”

“She called you a ‘dirty faggot.’”

“What!?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure.”

“One hundred percent. She said it under her breath, but, yeah. I heard her say it.”

I waited there for the young woman to return. A few moments later, she did. She finished up Brad’s exchanges, handed him his bag of stuff and said, “Have a nice day.”

“Excuse me,” I said to her, leaning in so as not to make a scene. Because this scene wasn’t going to be funny. But I was sure not to be too quiet about it since I did want the store to know what was going on. “Did you see my fashion show?”

“Um. Yeah?”

“Did you like it?”

She smirked uncomfortably. “Sure.”

“So why would you call me a ‘dirty faggot’?” Her face went white. Blank. Her eyes wide. Mouth agape. She’d been caught. “Yeah. My friend here heard you say it. So my question to you is this: What was dirty about what I was doing? And what about what I was doing made me a ‘faggot’? And if you thought I was being gay, what’s wrong with that? And why would you refer to a gay person as a ‘faggot’? Seems a little hateful.”

“I… I…” she stuttered, still pale faced and surprised.

“Doesn’t seem like the best customer service, does it? Insulting your customers—or their friends—with homophobic slurs.”

“I… I…”

“Yeah. Mind your mouth. Don’t be such a hateful, homophobic asshole. Especially in a store filled with photos of what have to be the gayest modeling shoots in retail history.”

People were watching and I took the cue to go louder. “That’s right, everyone. This woman, this Abercrombie & Fitch employee called me a ‘dirty faggot’. Just know the kind of person you’re buying your clothes from.”

I saw one guy drop whatever was in his arms and walk out. My friends and I followed suit.

✶

I never stepped foot in an Abercrombie & Fitch store after that. And I’m proud to say I never owned or wore a single item of theirs after my impromptu fashion show. Yeah, sure. She was a bad apple, but still. It had turned me off to the whole brand. Fuck ‘em.

Did my not buying their mostly ugly clothes—country club grunge?—hurt their bottom line? Did it send a message? No. Certainly not. Did it change the mind and behavior of that employee? I have no idea. Maybe. Maybe she’s a super-duper social justice warrior today. Maybe she doubled down and tried to Stop the Steal. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I experienced an insult to the customer and a group of people, and chose not to give that company my money.

I don’t shop at Hobby Lobby because of their treatment of workers—denying them birth control through their benefits program. I don’t eat Chick-fil-A because they oppose marriage equality and used to fund activities to suppress it. I wring my hands every time I order something on Amazon because I’m worried the worker filling my order might piss or shit themselves trying to meet their quota with my order. Or worse, get hurt doing so. Because we all know that Amazon treats its warehouse workers like demented mules instead of actual human beings with physiological limitations and full bladders.

It’s principle. I try to spend where my money will do the least harm because I know, in most instances, my spending won’t help much other than to keep someone employed at a shit job and make the owner that much richer.

So why haven’t I quit Facebook yet? Same reason I haven’t quit Amazon: It’s too convenient.

Also like Amazon, but far worse, Facebook is a monster. It was from the start. I joined under duress in 2008 because it was part of my job. When that job laid me off in the wake of the Great Recession, I killed the account. But Facebook gained more and more traction, and it seemed that I was missing out. Plus, it was a great way to promote the shows I was writing and producing. And I reconnected with old friends from lives past. Fun!

It became a reflexive way to procrastinate. Instead of standing up and stretching or reading a news story or going for a walk, I’d scroll mindlessly. Still, it was fun. It became a habit I wasn’t even aware of.

And it’s still fun, sometimes. I enjoy being easily—reflexively lazy—connected to those old pals I don’t see every day and probably wouldn’t communicate with if not for the ease of Facebook. But Facebook is bad. And when I say Facebook, I’m including Instagram, which I rarely use. (I have no issue with WhatsApp but I also only use that maybe once every two years.) They both suck. So it’s bad for our brains, bad for our body images, bad for democracy, bad for discourse, and so on. None of this is news. And this week’s whistleblowing of how actively evil Facebook leadership is reinforces the fact of how bad it apparently wants to be. And that’s insulting to all of its users and even non-users.

Because Facebook could still make millions of dollars a week and take active measures to be a better corporate citizen, a better steward of human decency. Like, has Facebook even added a pink ribbon to its logo for Breast Cancer Awareness Month? I don’t think so. Evil.*

I don’t need Facebook. The community groups are nice. And I really do like seeing those old friends I wouldn’t otherwise communicate with. And I take joy in the possibility that ex-girlfriends might occasionally poke through my profile and see how awesome my hair is. But I don’t need it. If I want to promote something, I can place an ad anywhere else. My god, what did we do before Facebook? And there are so many other digital ways to share our bullshit.

If I leave, will Facebook feel it? Nope. Just like Abercrombie. My aversion is less than a pebble drop in the ocean. But I’ll feel better. Right? I’ll miss my friends I wouldn’t otherwise talk to, but if they mattered that much to me, I could make the effort to text or call. But I won’t. Because the apparent truth is that having them as friends on Facebook is more about the voyeurism. So wait, are we even friends then? Jesus. Facebook has even warped our sense of friendship. 

I don’t know if I’ll leave it. But it’s been on my mind for a while now. Maybe I won’t go cold turkey, maybe I’ll start by deleting the app from my phone. Or maybe it’s best to pack up all my shit and walk right out. That’s the advice I’d give to someone else in an abusive relationship.

 *Just so we’re clear, this whole going pink in October thing that companies, local police departments, sports organizations love to do is dumb. It’s the bare minimum at best and limp virtue signaling at worst. If you really care about breast cancer, do a better job of caring about women. So, you know, pay better wages, offer childcare, don’t shoot them in their homes. Take your pink ribbon and shove it. Do better.

[uraharashouten]

@adelha-mathilde​ asked:

Since Tessai was away for a week with Yoruichi, a certain someone decides to ensure that those still at Urahara Shouten were getting three square meals and keeping the store clean. The door to the shop opening with Adelha looking the epitome of determined as another young woman sets down several huge boxes. Adelha taking a deep breath before calling into the shop at the top of her lungs. "Kisuke! Ururu! Jinta! Make yourselves presentable and head for the dining room! I brought lunch and a friend to help with the chores Tessai isn't doing!"

The other woman straightens to look to Adelha and hum a note of amusement. Her long green hair flowing over her shoulders and back as she shakes her head and speaks. "Way to bulldoze right in, Margaret. You really did adopt this shop guy as family if you're steamrolling over his world."

The moment Urahara is in view, the newcomer gives a salute with a grin. Her attire that of a motorcycle jacket, tight blue jeans and knee high boots. "Sup. My name is Verne. I'm one of Margaret's cousins. The two of us are here to make you all some healthy yet amazing food. As well as deep clean like we're dumping all the crumbs and empty beer cans out of a frat house."

“Well well! Here’s a breath of spring air!” The shopkeeper met Verne’s grin with one of his own, eyes sweeping from the wheels of the motorcycle, over the leather boots, and upward, to linger on her verdant hair. A hand lifted to touch the brim of his hat. “A pleasure to see you again, Miss Verne. Or don’t you recall meeting before? —You graciously received my White Day gift for Adelha-san, as she happened to be out with her canine companions when I stopped by to deliver it.”

He turned with a slightly apologetic nod to Adelha. “So! You’ve brought reinforcements. Did you really think it was it necessary?” She seemed to have deemed it so...

“Ha! He needs all the help he can get,” insinuated Jinta, thrusting his head out of the doorway. His snide expression froze in mid-cackle when he caught sight of Verne.

Ururu appeared to peek over his shoulder. “We’d be very grateful,” she added diplomatically, sliding a delicate hand beneath Jinta’s slack jaw and pushing upward to close his gaping mouth.

“Yes, yes, of course!” added Kisuke. “Please, do come in!” He motioned for the teens to step back, and did so himself. “Your generosity and help is much appreciated. Though I think you’ll find we’re not in such dire straits as you presume! Haha—” He sincerely hoped no one would take too close a look at his workshop or other private quarters. The kitchen? Well, finding a clean utensil at this point might be a challenge, but it was still passable, at least, soooo—

Jinta went ahead of the group and ham-fistedly slid open the door to the dining room with a little more force than necessary. “Right here,” he ordered, jabbing a finger at the table. “Just dump the food here so we can eat already.”

“Jinta...” Kisuke gave him a warning look, then turned his attention back to the visitors. “Your provisions will certainly provide for our lunch. But perhaps—” His gaze swung to the door that led into the kitchen. “— as long as your here, we might have a few culinary lessons from your experience?” 

[obsidianfr3sk]

The Origins (Chapter 6)

Summary:  Before the Renegades put an end to the Age of Anarchy, they were six kids trying to survive day by day in a city ruled by chaos and desolation. Is there a space for hope and kindness somewhere in Gatlon City? Maybe.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123756/chapters/62695558

Tag list: @nodrianbcyes @blueraspberry-official @healing-winston-pratt @plain-jane-mclain @novas-tunnel-of-anxiety @novas-egg-beater @callumtreadwell

Notes at the end of the capter

The world we’re gonna make

Age of Anarchy

Year 10

After going to the comic shop, they walked a mile to reach Joe's Basket. Hugh opened the door and smiled at the man behind the counter. That apparently innocent move gave him an excuse to leave the door open, so an invisible Simon could enter without raising suspicions.

Follow the routine.

He looked at the few products that remained on the shelves. Probably the owner could not afford more merchandise or the suppliers were robbed. Hugh frequently saw cases of trucks carrying food being attacked by gangs or by Anarchists.

“Not that there is much difference between one and the other,” his aunt once said.

(Hugh repeated the same sentence a few days ago, and Simon found it “dangerously hilarious”.)

The man behind the counter was following him with his gaze as if he suspected Hugh was going to steal something. Most countermen did the same when he came in. They took advantage of that mistrust. Simon went to the other end of the store and put everything he could find (that was among the things allowed to steal) into his backpack, while Hugh distracted them.

He felt an invisible hand touch his shoulder. It was his signal to buy something and get the hell out of there. They never ended a robbery without buying something.

Hugh took a chocolate bar and put it on the counter.

“Two dollars.”

He took out the coins he had in his jacket pocket. Eighty cents.

“I don't have enough.” He smiled at him uncomfortably and turned around. “Sorry for the inconvenience”

“How is your aunt?” he asked him.

Hugh was caught off guard by that question.

“She was your aunt, wasn't she? The lady you came with the other time.”

He could hear Simon thinking, “How could you be such an idiot?”

“Yes. She is fine.”

“I'm glad that she's recovered.”

“She hasn't,” he blurted out.

“What do you mean?”

He didn't know why he had said that.

“We don’t know what she has,” he whispered.

“Why are you smiling?” the counterman asked, disturbed.

“Sorry.” Hugh put on a serious face again. “It's a defense mechanism.”

The counterman nodded.

“I understand. No one can afford medical care these days. Not like there's a lot of hospitals left anyways.”

Hugh laughed. Even if they could afford a hospital, he knew his aunt wouldn’t want to go. “Don't worry, honey, I'll be all right. I'm too stubborn to die.”

“Take the chocolate.”

“No, I couldn't.”

“Don't worry, no one's buying them. You are the first customer I've had today.”

“Really? It seems like everyone does their shopping here.”

“Roaches do,” he replied. “They came last night, took a lot, and paid nothing if you know what I mean.”

Hugh knew what he meant.

“Sorry.”

Simon slapped him on the shoulder.

“Take the chocolate,” insisted the man from the counter. “And tell your aunt I say hello.”

Hugh took it. He would definitely tell his aunt. Surely she would be happy to know the counterman had remembered her.

“Our family has always been characterized by our beauty,” she would say, arranging his blonde curls. It was the same line she said every time someone remembered her name or paid her a vague compliment about her appearance. “When you grow up, you will have all the girls behind you.”

Heather Everhart always was talking about what was going to happen when Hugh grew up. When he was little, she told him “I promise that when you grow up, I’ll tell you everything about your parents.” Fortunately, his aunt Heather wasn’t known as someone who didn’t keep her promises, so during his fourteenth birthday, Hugh walked the streets of Gatlon City, holding his aunt's arm, and wondering if she was taking him to a place where the answers about his past were. All those years, his aunt Heather refused to respond to his questions about them.

And now, he may finally know where he came from.

After a long walk, they arrived at the richest neighborhood in Gatlon City. It wasn’t anything like he had imagined. Yeah, it seemed a lot better than where he lived, but most of the houses were completely abandoned. His aunt walked swiftly without even stopping to admire the pretty houses that remained. Hugh forced himself to follow her example and keep going.

They finally stopped in front of the biggest mansion Hugh had ever seen. Its walls were covered by mold and climbing plants, the windows had been shattered, and the doors were stolen.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

His aunt Heather pointed at the mailbox. Hugh removed the dust that covered it and revealed the name carved on it.

Everhart.

“Sit down, Hugh."

"Here in the sidewalk?"

"Yes. Don't worry about messing your clothes." He hesitated. The sidewalk looked unclean and dusty, and he was wearing his newest pair of jeans. "Come on, honey, it's not like you do your laundry."

He finally did it. Anything to get the answer he wanted.

Heather and Hugh Everhart were the richest and most popular kids at school. They did everything together, not only because they were twins, but they were also best friends.  Their paths divided when they went to college. She majored in theatre and he studied "something to do with politics".  Sometimes he made fun of her for choosing to pursue an art-related career, but she didn't care. Heather loved being a costume designer and was having a lot of work offers from Broadway shows.

When Hugh Everhart became mayor of Gatlon City, the power he now had started to change him, and his views about the prodigies did too. He started a campaign against them, even going as far as to start segregating public spaces and reinforcing the rule against prodigies attending to the same school as non-prodigies.

“It was a rule that already existed, but no one took it as seriously, and some school districts turned a blind eye when they discovered a child was a prodigy,” his aunt explained.

Then, Hugh asked about his mother.

“Oh, Anna was a friend of mine. She played the main role and was the most beautiful woman in the room. I introduced her to your father during the first Broadway productions I worked on. I will always regret that night,” she said. “They felt in love pretty quickly, got married the next year, and then you arrived.” Her smile disappeared. “Anna hadn’t been honest with your dad though.”

“Did she cheat on him?”

“No! No, no, no. Something worse. She didn’t tell him she was a prodigy until you were born.”

Hugh was starting to know how the story was going to end. He wanted her to stop, but at the same time, he wanted to know the truth, even if it hurt him.

So he let her finish.

“Your dad was pissed. He didn’t want anything to do with you, so he forced Anna to let you on my porch. The only thing she told me was she wanted you to be named after your father. Two days later, she died.”

“Did he kill her?”

Suddenly, his aunt stood up, took him by the arm, and started to get away from the house as fast as possible.

“Someone’s watching us,” she whispered.

Hugh looked at one of the houses. In its garden, a young woman was watching them go. They made eye contact, and she smiled. Her hair was curly and her skin was dark and soft. Hugh tried to smile back, but his aunt didn’t let him.

“Don’t look at her." She waited until they were out of the neighborhood to keep talking. “Look, I don’t know if he killed her," she mumbled. "They said it was suicide, and Anna had some problems, but your father and I never spoke again after that.”

Hugh didn’t like to think about his parents now. But it didn't matter, his family was perfect just the way it was. He, his aunt... and Simon.

Simon's dad had just left for work when they arrived. His sister was sitting in the living room, mesmerized by the old television they had. Mr. Westwood had managed to fix an old DVD player and Sophie was delighted with the cartoons she was now able to watch. They had kept the TV at low volume though. That way, the neighbors wouldn’t found out that they had a TV and wanted to break in.

“I'm here, Sophie,” Simon announced.

Sophie turned to see them. Hugh greeted her and she greeted him back. Then, he followed Simon into the basement.

“You shouldn't have stayed that long,” Simon said, dropping his backpack on the floor.

“It would have been more suspicious if it seemed like I was in a hurry to leave, don't you think?” he answered.

“We won’t go back there,” said Simon. “You’ll be recognized again.”

“You're right. I'm too handsome to be forgotten.”

“Nice. I think I'll keep your share of the loot just for that comment.”

“What do we have today?”

Five cans of beans, two of vegetables, one loaf of old bread, and three small boxes of pear juice.

When he first met Simon, Hugh was shocked to hear him say, “Now that I'm a prodigy, I'll be able to steal better.” First, he laughed, thinking it was a joke, but Simon remained serious.

Shortly afterward, his aunt's hand-made carpet business started to lose clients. All the money they could get was used to pay the bills. Hugh had never been so hungry in his life, so he asked Simon if he could help him get food.

“I could,” he replied with a shrug, "but you wouldn't like the way I get food, and I don't have any other idea."

“I will love any idea you have.”

Even if it means stealing.

“You will call the police if I tell you.”

“What police?” Hugh asked.

That the first time he heard Simon’s laugh. It was as wonderful as the first time he saw him smile.

“It's Sophie's birthday tomorrow, so I want the juice boxes,” Simon said. “It’ll be my gift”

Hugh did not answer. He still had his mind on Joe's Basket.

The store was empty because the Roaches were there. He imagined the terror the man behind the counter must have felt. Had a gun been pointed at his head? Did they hit him? Did they hurt him in any way? Did they threaten his family?

How long would it take to realize that things were missing from the shelves? Some never did, but once a lady noticed a bag of flour was missing as soon as they left her store. She grabbed Hugh's arm and demanded that he return what he had stolen from her. Luckily, Simon was carrying everything, and no one could see him. After several screams and threats, Hugh managed to convince the lady that he had taken nothing and let him go.

The man at the counter had no idea what he was doing when he gave him that free chocolate bar. He was giving his merchandise to a thief. Surely he would feel betrayed. He had had an act of kindness with someone, and that was how they paid him?

“Well, you can keep one box of pear juice,” said Simon, holding it out to him, “and a half loaf of bread. I would prefer that you keep all the vegetables. Sophie makes a big fuss when it's the only thing to eat.”

Hugh got out of his thoughts and took the chocolate out of his pocket.

“Here. It's for you."

Simon did not hesitate to accept it. He broke it in half and gave him the largest piece. It was a great sacrifice on his part because Simon loved everything that had chocolate. It was difficult to get, but every time Hugh saw it in a store, he bought a bar for Simon, and every time, Simon share it with him.

He wiped away the remnants of candy on his pants before taking the new Wonder Man number out of the paper bag. He sat down on one of the old cushions in the corner of the basement and began to read it.

Simon gazed at him with curiosity. Hugh noticed it but said nothing. He knew that Simon had no interest in the plot of The Fantastic Adventures of Wonder Man. He preferred The Scarlet Enchantress and the Phantom Feline, and read nothing but that, although they no longer produced any more numbers. Its creator had been killed after drawing the Scarlet Enchantress attacking Ace Anarchy with an energy hit.

Simon sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asked.

“I'm not.”

“Does it have something to do with the Roaches?”

He adjusted his glasses. They were already starting to cause excruciating headaches. Hugh really needed new ones.

“I do not like it either.”

“I know,” said Hugh. “I've never thought otherwise.”

“Well, you have a very curious way of showing it.”

Hugh opened one of the pear juices and raised his eyebrows.

“There is something you don't know about me, Westwood.”

“What thing, Everhart?” he asked with a frown.

He left the juice on one side and the comic book on the other. Then, he went to the shelf where they kept a box full of the comics they bought. Hugh took out the blue mask of Wonder Man his aunt made for him and put it on with a mysterious air, cautious so that Simon did not see him doing it.

“Hugh—”

“I'm not Hugh... I'm Wonder Man!” he exclaimed turning around. “And your kingdom of chaos is over!”

Simon was startled, but he immediately started to laugh and took his black Phantom Feline mask from the box. He put it on awkwardly as he climbed onto the table and picked up a red cloth to use as a cape.

“I would like to see you try it, Wonder Man,” Simon purred mysteriously covering his face with the cape. “But you will have to catch me first.”

Hugh created handcuffs with his powers and Simon vanished.

Silence invaded the room. He had to be very aware of each sound. Even the slightest movement could give away Simon's position and make Hugh the winner of the fight for Gatlon City that was unfolding inside their heads.

Hugh was the one who came up with the game. It all started because they argued over who would win in a fight: Wonder Man or the Phantom Feline. Simon was convinced that the Phantom Feline would end Wonder Man in a matter of seconds, because “Wonder Man was too stupid to find Phantom Feline when he turned invisible.” Hugh replied that the Wonder Man was extremely intelligent and that the Phantom Cat was no match for him.

“And I will prove it to you.”

Since then, they put on their masks and pretended to be Wonder Man and Phantom Feline whenever one of them was sad or upset. Like when Hugh's aunt was in bed for three days and her fever did not go down, or when Simon's father lost one of his many jobs and refused to speak to his children.

“Don't you think you're a little old to play like that?” Mr. Westwood asked them.

“Not at all,” they replied at the same time.

Hugh heard a rustle to his left. He turned, and before he could react, the handcuffs were snatched from his hand and he was thrown onto the cushions in the corner.

Simon put him the handcuffs and place his foot on Hugh’s chest.

“And the Phantom Feline takes control of Gatlon City in record time!” he exclaimed with an evil laugh.

“I will end with you, villain!” Hugh growled.

Simon took his razor out of his pocket and placed it just above the heart.

“Any last words?”

Hugh looked at him with determination. “Long live to justice.”

Simon nodded and stabbed him. The razor blade fell at the same time that Hugh played dead.

“Evil has triumphed. It always does,” Simon whispered, staring into the distance dramatically.

Hugh turned to look at the back cover of the comic book he'd left on the floor.

He was nothing like him. Wonder Man was stronger, taller, and did not wear glasses that were not from his graduation. He had dark skin and brown eyes, hiding his identity behind a blue mask and a tight uniform. On the back cover, he stood on a pile of villains defeated by him, his chin up and a silver spear nailed to Ace Anarchy's iconic gold helmet.

His blood went to his feet.

“Simon—“

“I saw it too,” he replied. He knelt and removed the handcuffs. “Now you will no longer find out what happened to Wonder Man at the end of the story.”

Hugh kept staring at that image. The spear. The helmet.

And he smiled.

“In the end, he beats Ace Anarchy.”

“Hugh, accept it. There will be no end,” said Simon, shaking his head. “He will never beat Ace Anarchy.”

“Maybe he doesn't,” Hugh muttered. “But what if we did?”

The End.

Now, you may be all like “wut obsi tf is this the end???” I mean, the end of this fic?? yeah. but the end of this the obsiverse??? i don’t think so bitch. this month i’ll be posting the first chapter of a new fic, Rise of the Renegades, which is going to be a continuation of The Origins. It’ll be all about the first year of the guys as the Renegades, how they formed, their fisrt missions, and maybe their first encounter with Ace:))) don’t wanna give spoiler tho. 

I hope you support the continution as much as you supported this fic. Seriously all the comments and tags mean a lot to me. I’m not use to sharing my writing, at least not outside school work, so it's great to know that people all over the world like what I do. Los adoro <3 Keep it weird.

Also all the chapter titles were from the song A Million Dreams it was one of the main inspirations for this work

[peakysabrina]

Gioia: chapter 2

Warnings: slightly NSFW and kinda fluffy lol 

Rich people have a terrible habit of procreating, and of parading their obnoxious children around Central Park, for everyone to see, for everyone to ogle, stop and compliment. For young single women, it was a bit like window shopping, a way of shaping their future, of knowing what they wanted: two boys and a girl? A nanny or two? Twins?

“I want a girl. That’s all I know” Edith said, letting out a good deal of smoke from her cigarette. She never smoked at home, but once she got out the door, it was all she did.

“A girl? But girls are so... fussy. And demanding” Jocelyn countered, frowning. There was a mother, right in front of them, who apparently had no help, and had resorted to tying a rope around her toddler, like a dog’s leash.

“And who better to deal with fussy than me, the fussiest of them all? The difference, Jocelyn dear, is that I’m a spoiled princess, but I admit it; you don’t” Edith chuckled. She was not wrong, but miss Jocelyn Dune would never feed her ego by agreeing.

“You are spoiled. You are probably the richest girl in all New York, so I guess it isn’t all your fault”

“Of New York? No, of Poughkeepsie, maybe. I do have my dreams, though. Of being the richest woman of all the United States. And I want all the diamonds, all the dresses, and all the hats I lay my eyes on” Edith stated, getting up suddenly. Jocelyn, ever the loyal companion, got up as well, and followed her best friend, even if she didn’t have the faintest idea of where they were going.

“And how are you going to achieve that?” miss Dune enquired, hiding her mockery behind her gloved hand. “By marrying someone even richer than you?”

“I have other methods. But if a truly wealthy, good-looking man wants to marry me... well, who am I to deny such a request? Especially if he’s handsome. I cannot, and will not, resist a handsome man in a good suit “

“What’s with you and suits? If the bank account is interesting, he could wear burlap for all I care”

“Oh Jocelyn... seriously, you’re so simple. And I say this with all the love in the world” Edith concluded, sighing loudly. “We’re going to visit my ticket to bigger and better things. With some luck, I’ll show you the particular allure of a handsome man in a good suit. Just wait and see”

Jocelyn Dune rolled her eyes, unfortunately used to Edith dictating their every step. There were girls who would die to be this close to the MacMillan heiress, and she was not about to give up on the social standing simply because she could be quite unpleasant. Besides, what did she mean about having other methods of making money? Why would she want to? Didn’t she have everything she wanted, down to her undergarments? And why were they turning the corner to 7th Avenue, when there was no one there they knew? That block was a bit shadier than their usual seamstresses’ studios, who went to the MacMillan residence anyways.

The shop Edith seemed to be looking for ended up being little more than a hole on the wall, leading to a flight of stairs, descending into complete blackness. The way she walked said that she’d been there plenty, but Jocelyn was a complete stranger in the musty environment. There wasn’t a single noise, not even a rat (thank God), nor steps, nor...

“Edith MacMillan. This is Jocelyn Dune, my friend” Edith spoke out of nowhere, when the stairs gave way to a dimly lit landing. Standing there, guarding what seemed to be a heavily reinforced door, two slim, yet tall men, with olive skin and heavy black hair. In their hands, strapped to their torsos, machine guns. Actual machine guns, the type that would kill her from a very good range.

“Edith, what is going on?” miss Dune herself asked her friend, her voice a mere whisper.

“Miss MacMillan, welcome” one of the men uttered, and both lowered their heads. Edith herself smiled, and advanced to the door, pushing it open. Jocelyn followed, her heart beating in her throat. Even if those people knew Edith, what was stopping them from killing them?

“Is that Edith? Edith, welcome” this time, it was a woman’s voice, the kind of voice a mother had. Jocelyn herself, who was not one, knew it too well: the woman who had given birth to her was a suffocating nuisance.

“Mrs. Changretta, hi. This is my friend Jocelyn Dune” Edith MacMillan said, walking up the the counter, and placing her hands on it firmly. The other woman, the mother, wasn’t visible, but the sound of steps meant she was approaching. Finally, about a minute later, she was visible: a short, kind-looking older woman, with grown up children. She dressed modestly, in black, a veil over her head.

“Pleasure to meet you” Jocelyn replied, more out of habit than actual sentiment. The woman looked over her, analysing, and didn’t seem to be too displeased, but wasn’t euphoric either, by any means.

“And you. My name is Audrey Changretta, and me and Edith have known each other for quite a bit, haven’t we?” mrs. Changretta informed, putting on a pair of glasses, and looking at Edith with a much more satisfied expression. Clearly, and as always, there was a favourite, and it was Edith.

“We have. And I’m very glad that’s the case. Jocelyn was curious about my little hobbies. So I brought her here”

“That’s good, very good. We like newcomers” mrs. Changretta said, winking at Edith, without any humour whatsoever. If the black garments didn’t say it, that look on her face screamed it: a widow. “How was the champagne at your last party?”

“Divine! Like the party itself, actually. See, Josie, it was mrs. Changretta who supplied the beautiful champagne and other beverages for my birthday party” Edith informed, her eyes sparkling as they always did when she thought of parties in her honour, where everyone’s attention was hers. “But, mrs. Changretta, I must protest: your son kindly delivered the bottles, but refused to stay. Is it something I’ve done?”

“No, no... my Luca, he’s just a very busy man” the older woman responded, and... could it be? A twinkle in her eye? Of course, speaking about her child would do that, but there was something else; something like... hope.

“Of course, I understand. Is he here? Or at the docks?”

“The docks. Do you need more champagne? Maybe some gin, or wine?”

“Some more of that Italian wine I tried last time I was here, if it’s not an inconvenience. About three cases, if that’s possible?” Edith requested, writing down her order on a piece of paper, and handing it to mrs. Changretta, along with a cheque. “There are some other things on there, from other clients”

“Yes, yes, he’ll be able to get this quickly” the widow nodded, looking over the paper. “I’ll get this to him”

“Thank you. Also, please tell Luca that I am beyond thankful for the brooch. It is gorgeous”

There it was, yet again: Jocelyn saw it, clear as day in the middle of the darkness and humidity: acknowledgement, hope, nostalgia, and the smallest hint of happiness. This Changretta woman loved her son, it was obvious, he was her whole world; and, whoever Luca was, his mother wanted Edith for him, as much as she wanted to breathe, and certainly a lot more than she wanted to live.

“He said it matched your eyes. Please, don’t tell on me; he wouldn’t like to know you were privy to his reasoning behind the gift” mrs. Changretta replied, a kind arm around Edith.

Oh yeah, there was no mistaking it: the alcohol dealer, Italian no doubt, but with a vague British accent, wanted Edith MacMillan to be her daughter-in-law. As if one of the richest women in the country could fall in love with a gangster and a criminal. But Jocelyn Dune was forgetting one thing: the man did have a fine taste for jewels.

[breanime]

Lucky

I hit a wall with ALL THREE of my series, so I’m gonna try to crank out a few oneshots to get myself back in the mood. Please comment if you like this one, I kind of need the encouragement right now/always. 

Also, I came up with this from the prompt list by @padfootagain from @thecoffeeshopforwriters‘ blog! I used: “it’s too dangerous”. So thank you for the prompt list!

*gif not mine*

“It’s too dangerous,” Billy said, voice low as he huddled next to you in the dark corridor, “We need to retreat.”

“Are you out of your mind,” you whispered back, “No retreat and no surrender!”

Billy sighed, ducking his head before lifting it back up and looking over at you. “Fine,” he agreed, “but if we die, I want you to know… I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you, too,” you said, leaning over and kissing his waiting lips. Billy titled his head, deepening the kiss, and you put a hand on his chest, bringing him back to reality. “Hey, have a little hope, soldier. We got this.”

Billy raised an eyebrow, letting his eyes trail up and down your body. It was 4 in the afternoon during a mission and you were wearing light blue pajama pants with pink cats on them and one of his old shirts. Billy wasn’t much better—he was wearing black sweatpants and a white tank top—with no shoes. “We’re underprepared,” he said drily.

“We’ll catch ‘em by surprise,” you said, upbeat as always, “We’ve done this a hundred times—”

“—Yeah, but never under these kinds of conditions,” he interjected, shaking his head, “I’m telling you, baby, we might have to call in reinforcements on this one.”

You scoffed, standing up and peaking around the corner. “We agreed to only call in Frank in dire situations…”

“…which this is…”

“—and we said we’d only do it once a month. We’ve already called him in three times this month,” you stopped—seeing a shadow in the distance. “Ssh,” you shushed Billy, even though he hadn’t been talking, “We got a bogey.”

Billy was up and at your side in less than a second. “Shit.” He put a hand on your hip and moved you behind him. “Okay, it’s just one,” he took a breath, “We can do this.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” you agreed, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“Here he comes,” Billy muttered to you. You nodded. A few seconds later, you saw him round the corner and approach. It was go-time.

“Daddy,” your son was wearing his Captain America pajamas and his favorite pink tutu, “You said you were gonna come find us!”

“I was, but I found Mommy first,” Billy said, forcing an easy smile on his face, “Why don’t you go hide again and Mommy and I will find you?”

“No!” He stomped his little foot and both you and Billy jumped. “Me and Sissy have been hiding for seventy whole hours!”

“That math doesn’t add up, bud,” Billy said weakly.

“Why don’t you get your sister and we can all hide from Daddy?” You suggested, voice light.

“No!” Your tiny terror put his arms around his chest. “We already hided and hided and hided and all you and Daddy do is make kissy-face! SISSY!” He roared, calling for his sister.

“Oh God, no,” you said, cowering behind Billy.

Your daughter came running down the hallway with a scream that would have shamed a banshee—if your son had inherited Billy’s natural stealth and cat-like movements, your daughter had gotten your bull-in-a-china-shop tendencies. She was wearing one of Billy’s old Anvil T-shirts, her Huggies pull-ups, a football helmet, one pink sock and one orange sock. She also had a foam sword in her hand (a poorly thought-out gift from Auntie Karen).  

“Baby, baby, baby,” Billy said, crouching down to catch her as she tackled him, “We’re not supposed to run with weapons, remember?”

“Mommy and Daddy weren’t hiding!” Your son reported.

Your little girl gasped, mouth dropping at this scandalous news. “But we play hide-‘n-seek!”

“Guys, we’ve been playing all day,” you said, trying to reason with them for some reason, “and you promised Mommy and Daddy that you’d go down for your nap after we make cupcakes.”

“Our first mistake,” Billy muttered from the ground.

You subtly kicked him as you went on. “I know it’s fun to play all day when we have a snow day, but we have to take our naps too—”

“No naps!” Your daughter cried, waving her sword in the air. “We no want naps! We want play!”

“You said we didn’t have to take a nap till we got done playing hide and seek,” your son added, “and we hided but you didn’t seeked! So we’re not done!”

“Oh my God,” you sighed. Of course he was using logic—and what kind of kid remembered the desperate things his parents said in an sad effort to get them to compromise to nap time?

“Ok, but we have to take our naps now,” Billy said—he was using his ‘serious Dad voice’ now, “We should have gone to sleep hours ago.”

“But it’s not night-night time, Daddy!” Your daughter argued. She still had pink frosting on her round cheeks.

“And we didn’t get seeked yet!”

Billy sighed, looking up at you tiredly as both kids chattered in front of him. “I told you this was too dangerous,” he said.

“Okay,” you said, getting down to their level beside Billy, “how about this: we’ll play hide-and-seek with you guys after your nap, and we’ll play for real this time. But you have to go to sleep first.”

“No!” They both cried at once.

“Hm,” you turned to Billy, “well that was kind of my whole plan there.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can I just rewind back to when I—rightly—said we were underprepared for this right now? We should have done more recon.”

“Your version of recon was hiding in the dark while our spawn destroyed the house,” you quipped back. You turned back to your kids. “No more talking. I want you both to get ready for naptime right now,” you put your hand up before either of them could interject, “and if you don’t, I’m going to take a toy away every time I have to ask you again.”

Your son’s dark eyes widened, but your daughter’s glinted with mischief. Billy looked surprised, but he covered it up and nodded in agreement. “That’s right,” he said, “and we’re going to take all the toys to Anvil and let all of Daddy’s employees use them for target practice.”

“No!” Your son yelled, he spun around—tutu whirling—and grabbed one of his stuffed dogs (a pitbull from Uncle Frankie) off of the floor. “Don’t take away Mr. Mean Face!”

“We don’t want to take Mr. Mean Face, or any of your toys,” you said gently, “but Mommy is tired of asking you guys to be good. So will you go bed?”

“Mm hmm,” he said, nodding his head and holding the toy to his chest.

“I don’t want to go night-night!” Your daughter yelled, swinging her sword and accidentally hitting her brother on the forehead. “I play! I play hide-‘n-seek!”

“No you don’t,” you said calmly, plucking the sword out of her hand. There was a moment of silent shock following your bold action; Billy and your son (his twin, you swore) both had wide eyes and open mouths, and your daughter’s eyes had widened as well. Her first reaction was to reach out for it, but she stopped herself from making grabby hands—she knew better. She stared over at you, and you stared back, not backing down.

Then her little mouth twisted downward, and her dark eyes started to water, and then she was bawling.

“My sword!” She cried, little hands balled at her sides as she threw her head back and sobbed.

“She’s sorry, Mommy! Sissy, say you’re sorry! She’s really very very sorry, Mommy,” your son said, yelling to be heard over his sister’s screams, “Please don’t shoot the sword—we’ll go night-night! We promise!”

“Nope, it’s going bye-bye now,” you said, standing up.

“Aw, Y/N,” Billy said, wrapping his arms around your daughter and letting her cry into his chest, “come on…”

You shot him a glare.

“Okay, Princess,” Billy was addressing your daughter now, “hey—don’t cry, stop crying, baby. Daddy was just joking, I’m not gonna take your toys to work,” he wiped her tears away, and you rolled your eyes when she gave a dramatic sniffle. You’d taught her too well. “But Mommy’s gonna hold onto your sword until you get in bed and take your nap, okay?”

“I want my sword back,” she sniffled.

Billy looked back up at you, probably just one more sniffle away from breaking down himself. You crouched down again, pushing him with your shoulder as you looked at your daughter. “I’ll give you your sword back once you and your brother get in your jammies and get in bed.”

Your son nodded, taking his sister’s hand. “Okay, Mommy! C’mon, Sissy!” He tugged at her hand when she didn’t move.

“I sorry, Mommy,” she said, little face looking up at you.

You smiled and opened your arms. She rushed into them and you gave her a warm hug. “Thank you for apologizing, baby. That’s very nice of you,” you kissed the top of her perfect head, “Tell you what—if you and your brother wash your faces before me and Daddy get in there, I’ll let you sleep in your Anvil shirt.”

Her face broke out into a smile.

“And can I sleep in my toot-toot?” Your son asked. He hadn’t quite yet mastered the word “tutu”, but neither you or Billy had the heart to correct him—it was just too damn adorable.

“Yes,” you leaned over and pecked his cheek, “So go and wash your face—both of you!” You laughed as they both took off, holding hands. You stood up, and Billy followed.

“Damn,” he said, staring at you, “I’m both impressed and turned on.”

“As you should be,” you grinned, putting an arm around his waist, “By the way, great job backing me up there.”

“I tried! But you know I can’t resist that little face she makes before she’s about to cry,” he whined.

“One hundred confirmed kills,” you muttered with a smirk. You stood on your tippy-toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you, you big softie.”

“I love you, too,” he said, smiling. His smile turned sultry. “In fact, I’m hoping you’ll let me show you how much I love you while the kids are sleeping…”

“Is this another ploy to get me pregnant again?” You asked, putting a finger on your chin, pretending to think about it.

He draped an arm around your shoulders. “Everything I do is a ploy to get you pregnant,” he said, kissing your cheek, “You know how sexy you are when you’re knocked up?”

You giggled, kissing him again. “This,” you said into his lips, “is why we have birth control.”

“Boo,” he said, kissing you still.

“Mommy! Daddy! We’re ready!” Your son shouted from down the hall.

You and Billy walked into their bedroom hand-in-hand. Your son was in his bed—a red race-car—in his PJs and tutu, holding Mr. Mean Face in his lap with a clean face and a big smile. Your daughter was in her bed—a matching red race-car—in her Anvil shirt and holding her favorite stuffed animal (a worn-out Elmo that you’d had when you were little) with a clean face and a smile just as big as her brother’s.

“Wow, you guys got ready so fast!” You said, smiling over at your little miracles.

“We’re all ready to go night-night,” your son reported.

“And I be good, Mommy,” your daughter said proudly, “See?”

“You’re being very good, baby,” you laughed, “I’m very happy.”

“Do you want a story?” Billy asked, moving around the room picking things up.

“No thank you,” your son said, “We would like to go right to sleep, right Sissy?”

“Yes,” she nodded as Billy tucked her in, “we would like to go to sheep—sleep,” she corrected herself.

“Okay,” Billy kissed her temple, “I love you, princess.”

“I love you, Daddy. I love you too, Mommy!”

“I love you, baby.”

“And I love you,” Billy said, kissing your son on the temple as well.

“I love you too, Mommy and Daddy.”

“And I love my brother!” Your daughter yelled.

“I love you, too Sissy!”

You and Billy both laughed. You were so lucky to have your family, to have a life full of love. “Sleep tight, you too,” you said, leading Billy out of the room.

“Don’t shut the door all the way!” Your son requested from his bed. You sighed, smiling, and cracked the door open.

“So,” Billy said, back in the dark—but now empty—hallway, “should we got to bed, too?”

You grinned. “What better way to celebrate a successful mission?”

“And with no causalities, no less,” Billy agreed, taking your hand and leading you to your bedroom.

You were a lucky woman indeed.

***************************************************************************************

Me, a child of divorce who only ever got tucked in by my Mom: iS tHis hOW faMILiES woRk??? Hahaha! Also--this is totally an uncalled for sequel to “The Best of Him”. 

TAGLIST:  @floralpeaceofmind​ @delicatelilyflower​ @dylanobrusso​ @ladyblablabla​ @banditthewriter​ @something-tofightfor​  @starsfragments​ @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme​ @hisgirlwednesdayaddams​@fictionwillneverdie @maria-beretta​ @sadnessxvodka​ @ymariejp​ @sunnycolors​ @moonlightsay​ @its-all-o-kay @damagelove​ @keyeluh @itsmylife98​ @funerals-with-cake​ @littlemermaidprobz​ @teacuplotus​ @king4thesirens​ @mrsjaxtellerfan​ @thebabblingbook​ @tartelette-aux-fraises​ @madamrogers​  @charlylama​ @iaintnofurry​​ @k-buggz2001​​ @whitewolfslittlesilverfox @drinix​ @elanor-of-imladris​ @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @julliiaaq​ @holamor​ @ymariejp @shadowhunterscloset @songtoyou​ @anabella-baby @sssilverssserpent​ @heyitslexy

[bucky-iss-bae]

Bump in the Night (Peter Hale x Reader) Pt. 2

Bump in the Night (Peter Hale x Reader)

A/N… So, I hope I followed through with this request. I tried to google the best I could in terms of having a baby, and I’m not going to lie, I’m not 100% happy with this, so sorry if you don’t like it and if you want me to re-write or do anything else then just send me a request xoxo 

Requested as a Part 2 by @logancola     

Request: Hi! I really enjoy reading the Peter Hale stories you have up! If you are still accepting requests I would love to read a part 2 to “Bump in the Night” I’d love to see how you write Peter handling Y/N going into labor!

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Peter Hale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Just flufff 

Word Count: 1027ish

Masterlist Fandom List Part 1 

You hadn’t realised how quickly the pregnancy had passed. Despite feeling like it was lasting forever with the sleepless nights, the disgusting cravings, and the random emotional breakdowns. Both you and Peter had stuck by one another, more importantly, he was there at your beck and call.

You were basically counting down the shifts until you had finished work, getting into your final trimester, you realised how much of your body had changed. You tried to stay active, but with Peter, as a husband, it was difficult doing anything for yourself. You were grateful for that, getting exhausted by the simplest things, and baby brain was 100% real.

When your last shift had come, a lot of your colleagues had left you some baby gifts, a few of them had even come to the baby shower that was thrown for you by Lydia. But knowing that this could potentially be the last time you stepped into the office honestly made you so happy, mainly because you were sure if you wanted to go into another career after the baby was born, or if you wanted to even work, or potentially just going back after your maternity.

But when you got home that evening, you decided on writing a list of everything that you still needed to get. Especially since you needed to get a lot and get it fast. You were in the last few months of your pregnancy, and you didn’t want to properly start buying things until you had finished with work.

Both you and Peter spent hours researching and looking at things to buy, you spent so long making sure the colour scheme of the nursery would be perfect, deciding on grey, white, and yellow. You got complete new furniture for the room, enjoying your time together as you went shopping for all the small necessities and the big things. Every item piling into the nursery, aside from a small baby basket and a few other things that would be in your room for the first few months. Buying everything made it all so excited despite there being so much to buy and change around the house. But it stressed you at the same time.

“I’m scared that it won’t be done on time” You whined as you looked at the boxes that still needed to be unpacked, the cot that still had to be built, the shelves that were put up, the only thing that was ready was the wardrobe for the baby, and the chest of drawers, but they were empty. It was starting to stress you out especially since your due date was very soon, too soon for your liking, especially as you could pop at any given moment, there were less than two weeks until your due date. It was the one thing that scared you. Ok, it was one of the hundred things that scared you, giving birth. Or giving birth early, having nothing ready and having nowhere to put the baby.

“You’re tense” Peter said grabbing your shoulders and started to massage them, “You need to calm down, it’ll be done on time alright” he said kissing the back of your head before resting his chin on your shoulder the both of you looking at the mess In front of you knowing that in a few weeks this will be completely changed, “I’ve got some people coming tomorrow to start building everything. Then you can boss them around and tell them where you want everything” You felt his scruff against your neck as you turned to him slightly than the boxes in front of you,

“Let’s just build it all now” You grumbled trying to walk towards a box to unpack it,

“Woah, Woah, Woah. I don’t think so. You’ll hurt yourself. You need rest, you could pop any day now. And you don’t even know how to build half of these things” He grabbed your shoulders and pulled up back to him before he wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands resting on your bump.  

“Sure I do. You’re just underestimating my ability, and I’ll rest later on. Not like I can even rest with your child kicking me all the time” You grumbled,

Peter laughed at that, “My child kicking you now is it?” He murmured against your head, “Hmm pretty sure it takes two to tango sweetheart”

You couldn’t help but snort at that and looked down at your stomach, you couldn’t even see your toes at this point, you haven’t been able to for at least 5 months now. It’s crazy how big you’ve gotten,

“Trust me. I know Peter. You still did this to me”

You could feel his smile, “I’m excited. But don’t worry. All of this will be done. But come on, you need a back massage. A shoulder massage, a face mask, and a bubble bath”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, he knew you too well sometimes and knew that the stress was getting to you so the best way to diffuse the stress would be to have a little pamper session. No one in the pack would ever see this side of Peter, he saved it all for you. They all saw how much he cared though, and during the pregnancy, he was even more caring knowing there was two of you rather than one. But it made him feel whole again, I made him realise there’s redemption for everyone, and he’d soon have his perfect little family.

“So a little pamper session huh?” you asked him,

“Of course. Anything for my queen and princess” He said rubbing your stomach, Peter insisted that you were carrying a baby girl, but you were sure it was a baby boy. You even said he would follow in his father’s footsteps and break his Beacon Hills high record when it comes to basketball.  

**

As Peter promised he had a few people over the following day. They built everything for the two of them under your watchful eye, but then Peter paid them and sent them away before they even put everything in the right places.

“I thought they were going to put it all how I needed to?” I asked Peter, sure he had like extra strong genes but there was no way Peter and I could move some of this stuff around,

Peter shook his head, “Sadly, I’ve had to call in reinforcements that are volunteering.” He said, and as he did you turned your attention towards the noise in the house, Derek, Stiles, Scott, and Liam were all here.

“Ok” You nodded, “Cool, so, boys,” You said clapping your hand to get their attention, “Come on, this has got to be perfect”

“Also I reminded you all, she’s been bossier since she’s been pregnant,” Peter told them ignoring the glare you sent his way, but they all got to work, and Stiles helped you with making sure all the small things were perfectly sorted. You had gotten the hospital bag ready a long time ago, and although both you and Peter knew the time would be within the next week or two, neither of you felt prepared at all. It’s almost like reality hadn’t hit either of you yet. Instead, you both distracted yourselves trying to get everything perfect.

Through the day you kept on having sharp pains in your stomach, they didn’t feel that bad, they just made you catch your breath every other second, but it was when your water broke that you knew it was your contractions.

You stood frozen unsure on what to do, “Eww, what the f... oh shit. PETER” Stiles yelled for you as you started to panic,

He along with the others all ran in “What’s happened?” Peter asked running into to room to check on you,  

“It’s happening” You panicked, “Peter. What do we do, it’s way too early. Nothing is ready and...”

Peter instead stood frozen looking at the puddle on the floor before looking at you,

“Y/N. Stop panicking and let’s get you to the hospital, it’s ok, are you having contractions?”

You shook your head, “I don’t know, I think they started ages ago”

“Shit... ok shit.” Peter looked around unsure on what to do, “Let's get your stuff and go now then alright” he said to you,

Stiles grabbed your bag while Peter got you to the car, you were panicking which obviously wasn’t good, but you had no idea what to do. In your eyes nothing was ready and neither of you was prepared for this right now.

You got to the hospital and the pain had increased so much by the time you reached the hospital. The nurses took you in and soon your midwife was helping you along with Peter by your side the whole time.  

You don’t know how long you were in labour for, but Peter didn’t leave your side, he didn’t complain when you nearly broke his hand, instead tried to take whatever pain he could from you,

You felt so relieved when you heard the babies cry, neither you nor Peter wanted to find out the gender of the baby, both of you wanting it to be a surprise,

“Congratulations, you’ve got a healthy little boy, born at 18.56,” Your doctor said to you both,

You sighed in relief, feeling overwhelmed with happiness, wanting to check on your little baby. You were a mom, you and Peter were parents, once the nurse had checked him over they put him in your arms, you were in awe at how beautiful he was his hair was Y/H/C, but his eyes were just like Peters.

“She’s beautiful Y/N.” Peter said cradling his head, “I’m so proud of you Y/N. So proud” His voice was a quiet whisper as gave you a kiss on your forehead, but the next thing your Doctor told you surged even more panic through you,

“Alright Y/N, you ready to start pushing again?”

Both yours and Peters head snapped towards the Doctor, “What?” You asked,

“Your second baby is ready to be delivered” He then said, you looked at Peter who was just as shocked as you were,

“What do you mean my second baby? What?”

“Well, apparently one was hiding behind the other, but it’s time Y/N”

One of the nurses had to take your son off of you, and what felt like only moments later you had delivered a baby girl, and turns out the Doctor was right, there was no mistake, you and Peter had two perfect little babies. A little boy, and girl. Your daughter was born at 7.07pm, both babies had been weighed and measured, and spent a little time with you and Peter before you were stitched and cleaned up and taken to a separate room.

The nurses told you that skin to skin contact with both parents was a good thing, but Peter being Peter was too scared to hold them, so you were sat with both twins in your arms,

“Peter. They’re your children. You haven’t even picked them up properly” You told him while he sat beside you and instead was stroking the little tuffs of your daughter's hair as she was on his side,

“Y/N. How... I’ve done so many bad things in my life. I’ve never had so much to loose. What if I hurt them, or what if I’m not a good dad. I didn’t even get the chance to be a father to Malia properly. And now, someone as evil as I am shouldn’t have someone so innocent in their arms”

You looked up at your husband, someone you’ve known all your life, you knew him better than anyone, “Peter. You’re not an evil person, you’ve done bad things sure. But you’re not an evil person. Now I didn’t go through labour, to then find out I’ve got two babies rather than one for you to say someone so innocent shouldn’t be in your arms. Now, make sure you give support to their head, use one hand to hold her head, and the other to hold her body until you get comfortable, you’ll soon realise your princess will need her king to always protect her” You used a soft but stern voice on him, hoping he got the message. And after a little bit of hesitation, he slowly turned his body and was careful to grab your daughter that was tucked in your arm before he safely had her in his arms.

The moment he looked down at her was one you wanted to cherish forever, he had so much love in his eyes, and was so gentle, a love that couldn’t be explained, he looked up at you, a smile on his face, “She’s perfect, they both are”

You nodded, a small smile on your face, “They’re so tiny. I mean I wasn’t even prepared for one, never did I think I was blessed enough to have two” You said to him,

He just laughed, “Guess we both were right huh? A little princess and a little prince”

You nodded at that, “We were, I didn’t ever think that I could be this happy.”

As Peter was staring between the two a sad smile grew on his face,

“You ok?” You whispered to him,

“You know when I lost my family. I never thought I would have my own one day. Never thought I would feel love the way I currently do. But I’m a dad, and this time I’ll be able to watch my kids grow up. It’s given me a new lease of life Y/N. You’ve given me a new lease of life and turns out, I’ve never in my life loved anyone as much as I love you three. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life being the best father, and the best husband, supporting and protecting you all with my life”

**

When you got home, two days later you weren’t expecting the house to be better than you found it. Considering you left while trying to finish decorating, when you walked in everything was perfect. The nursery had been transformed and now had two cots in it, and double everything basically, better than you could’ve imagined.  

You turned to Peter who was setting down both car seats in their room,

“How?” You whispered looking around in awe,

“I had to pull a few strings. But you know me. I have to live a lavish lifestyle, that means all of us do, which also means you’re not allowed to stress about it anymore. Heck, I’m pretty sure it was the stress that bought you to giving birth, but it’s all sorted now. I just, I was worried you wouldn’t like it. When I came back last night, I worked with the guys all night to get it to this standard” He explained,  

“You should’ve slept. Made the most of the last night you can sleep without disturbance. But I love it” You said to him,

He grinned at that, “Good” He wrapped his arms around your waist, and you both looked down at your babies,

“We should get them settled into their new home shouldn’t we?” Peter asked,

You nodded and just smiled down at them, both you and Peter feeling more content than you ever realised was possible.

A/N: I really don’t know how I feel about this. Sorry if you don’t like it or doesnt fit your standards. But eitehr way hope you enjoyed the read x 

Anymore Fics that you want doing, send them my way my loves xoxo

[mustangshelby04]

Boston Boy - Chapter 3

A/N This chapter is pure fluff. Enjoy!!

“So what’s on the agenda today?” Kate asked as Chris walked into her hotel room.

“I thought we could hit up some museums.  Maybe check out the aquarium.” Chris said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Someone’s excited today.”

“Yeah.  I have good reason to be.” He grinned at her and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Do you have something planned?”

“Nope.  I’m just spending the day with you.”

She chuckled. “Your enthusiasm is appreciated, but I keep telling you that I’m not that exciting.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.  Besides, the first day I met you, you ended up in dog shit.  The next day, you ended up with a broken tooth.”  

“I’m hoping that particular pattern doesn’t continue.”

“Well, if it does, I’m here to make sure you’re ok.”

“My hero.”

“Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll sweep you off your feet later.”

She laughed. “I doubt that.  I’m heavier than I look.  It’s all in the boobs and butt.”

He shrugged and suddenly swept her up in his arms.  She clung to his neck as her eyes widened and she realized he was actually holding her up. “I lift a lot of weights.” He kissed her cheek before setting her down. “And you’re not that heavy.”

She laughed. “That’s the first time that’s ever happened to me.”

“No one’s ever swept you up in their arms before?”

“Not since I was in my early teens.  It wasn’t so much a sweep-me-off-my-feet thing.  It was more to get me up on doctor’s tables or put me back in my wheelchair or on my crutches.  I was in a leg brace for a while after breaking my kneecap and tearing my ACL.”

“Ouch!  What happened?”

“I was practicing a sit spin and I was too close to the boards.  I travelled into them and my knee bent the wrong way before I sling-shotted back around and hit my kneecap hard enough to crack it in three places.”

“Fuck!” He shook his head. “What’s a sit spin?”

“Did I fail to mention that I was a figure skater from age six till age thirteen?”

“Yes.”

“I was a figure skater from age six till age thirteen.” She laughed. “And a sit spin is where you spin on one blade in a crouched position with the other leg extended in front of you.”

“Oh!  I didn’t know what it was called.  So, can you still skate?”

“Not at all like I used to.  It’s not like riding a bike.  I can still go forwards and backwards and sideways and do some spins and stops, but no jumps or fancy footwork or anything really cool.  I still go skate every now and then.”

“Nice.  It’s good you didn’t leave it completely behind.”

“If I hadn’t busted my knee, I would’ve continued in competitive skating.  I loved it.  A lot.  For a while it was my escape from everything bad in my life.  It still kind of is sometimes.  There’s nothing in the world like turning on the music and having the ice all to yourself while you feel the cold air flying past you.  It’s my form of meditation, I guess.  Nothing else exists when I’m on the ice.” She sighed. “I did get one thing from my busted knee, though.  I can tell you when rain or snow is coming.  And neither of them are going to bother us today, so let’s go enjoy the day, shall we?”

He laughed. “We shall.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Chris and Kate made their way through the aquarium side by side.  They’d strolled through two museums before making their way to the aquarium.  They’d been there for the last hour and a half just enjoying each other’s company.  At the moment, he was enjoying her reactions to the penguins.  She laughed when one penguin tried to jump from one rock to the next and failed, splashing into the water.

“I love penguins.” She said. “I think they’re my spirit animal.”

“Yeah?  How come?”

“They’re klutzy and adorable.  I want one.”

He laughed. “I’m not sure they’d make a great pet.”

“Are you kidding me?  Penguins love humans.  I imagine they’d be like puppies.”

“How would you house break them?”

“Good question.  Maybe just like a puppy?  Positive reinforcement.  Give them an anchovy whenever they piddle on the puppy pad.”

“Well what about their climate?  They need cold.”

“Not all penguins.” She pointed at the little African penguins. “They don’t live in the cold all the time.  They’re from South Africa.”

“You’ve got this all planned out, huh?”

“Not entirely.  It’s mostly just a long shot of a dream.” She turned and began to walk.  He caught up with her and she said, “Dolphins.”

“What about them?” He asked.

“They’re my favorite animal.  Ever since I was a kid.  One day I want to go swimming with them.  There’s this place in Florida….”

“Discovery Cove.  Yeah, I’ve heard of it.  Never been, though.”

“Me either.  But I want to go.” They walked into the gift shop and started browsing. “When I was little, I wanted to be a dolphin trainer.  I wanted to be able to work alongside these beautiful animals and help take care of them…. I still wouldn’t hate it.”

“Then why don’t you go for it?”

She laughed. “I’m much too old to be a dolphin trainer now.”

“You’re only 30.”

“Hey.  I’m 29.  I’ve got a couple of weeks left before I hit that particular milestone birthday.”

“It’s not bad.”

“Oh, I know.  In fact, I’d like to celebrate it.  Lauren and I always talked about going to Disneyworld for our 30th birthdays, but she’s not seeming so interested in it now.  We were supposed to start planning this year, but every time I bring it up, she has an excuse.” She sighed. “One day I’ll go to Disneyworld.”

“Wait, you’ve never been?”

“Nope.  It’s a thorn in my relationship with my mother.” She laughed. “That woman has been telling me she’ll take me to Disneyworld for almost 30 years and I still haven’t seen the inside of the most magical place on earth.  For someone who has lived and breathed Disney most of her life, it pains my heart.”

“Why haven’t you gone?”

“Not enough time or money…. Or anyone to go with.  I told mom that even if I had a family of my own, when I do go to Disney, she’s paying for me.”

He laughed. “So you’re a Disney fan, huh?”

“Of course!  What, you couldn’t tell by the Merida costume?”

He laughed. “I probably should have.  It was fairly elaborate.  Right up there with Merida from Disneyworld.”

“I know.  My niece went to Disneyworld this summer.  Thank god the woman playing the part was a good actress because Hailey wanted to talk all about the time Merida came to visit for her birthday.”

“It’s pretty impressive that she remembers it.”

“I know!  She was only two!” She looked around. “I’ve got to use the restroom.  I’ll be right back.” She lightly touched his arm before rushing off.  When she came out, Chris was waiting for her with a fluffy stuffed penguin in his arms.

“I know it’s not a real one, but I thought it was a start for your long shot dream.” He handed it to her. “And a way to remember our visit.”

She laughed. “I think I’ll name him Cap.  He looks like an honorable penguin.” He laughed. “Well, what about you?  What’s your favorite animal?”

Chris paused to think for a minute. “Probably an elephant.  They’re such majestic, peaceful creatures.”

Kate smiled at him. “Good choice.”

“Thanks.  Are you hungry?  I have an idea for dinner.”

“Oh, you have an idea, huh?  I didn’t know you could have those.”

“Ha!  Come on, blondie.  Let’s go.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and smiled to himself.  He was glad they were able to pick on each other without either of them getting offended.  It meant, at least to him, that they were getting comfortable with each other.

“You’re not going to tell me your idea?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll figure it out kinda quick.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Chris pulled into the parking lot of Whole Foods and she looked at him suspiciously. “I make a mean chicken carbonara.  Unfortunately, I don’t have everything I need, so I have to make a pit stop.”

“Wait…. You’re going to cook for me?” She asked. “Where?”

“At my place.” He smiled at her shocked face. “I just thought a night in away from the hotel would be nice.  I know it can start to feel cramped in a hotel room even after a couple of days.”

“You want to take me to your place?” “Why not?  Afraid I’ll give you food poisoning?”

“No.  I don’t know why not.  I was just…. Surprised that you wanted to show me your place.”

“Technically this is our third date.” He got out and came around to open her door for her.

“Well, it’s our first if you’re counting the fact that you didn’t ask me to see where this goes until last night.”

“True.  But that’s just a technicality.” He stopped and she turned to face him. “I mean it when I say that I’ve never felt so comfortable with someone so quickly.  Usually I have a problem with the English language and I sweat profusely and it’s never a good thing, but….” He reached out and took her hands. “I like you.  You’ve got this light that I’m just drawn to.”

“Like a bug zapper?” She laughed, trying to brush off the seriousness that had descended upon them.

“Only if you choose to keep your guard up.”

The seriousness in his voice stopped any jokes she was about to make. “I don’t mean to, Chris.”

“I know.  You’ve been hurt bad by multiple men in your life.  One of them you were supposed to be able to trust not to ever hurt you.  So, I know that it might take some time for you to completely grasp that I like you and I’m willing to keep trying until you trust me.”

“They’re just stories, though.”

“What?”

“Fairytales.  They’re just stories.”

“This feels like a fairytale to you?”

She shrugged. “Three days and the handsome prince is star struck by the peasant girl.  If only we’d met in the woods and gone dancing, maybe this would sink in better.  I don’t know.” He chuckled. “Well, you are blonde like Sleeping Beauty and just as pale.”

“And you’re just as handsome as Prince Phillip.  Who was my first crush, by the way.”

Chris took her hand and they walked into the store. “You had a crush on a cartoon?”

“Don’t judge.”

“Oh, I’m not.  My first crush was Maid Marian from Robin Hood.”

“The Disney version?”

He blushed slightly. “Yeah.” “I thought Robin Hood was cute.”

That made him laugh. “What was it about Prince Phillip that you liked?”

“He was dashing and brave and very well drawn.  And he talked to his horse like he was a person.  I’ve always talked to my animals like that.” He grinned. “What was it about Maid Marian that you liked?” “She was spunky.  I thought I could have fun with her.  I used to run around pretending to be Robin Hood.  I would say all of his lines for him when the movie was on.  Which would make my sister Carly come after me.”

“You’re the second oldest child, right?”

“Yup.  Carly, then me, then Scott, and then Shanna.”

“What are they like?  Well, besides Scott, because I met him and he’s a pretty cool guy.”

Chris smiled as he picked out the cheese he was planning to use that evening. “Carly is your typical older sister.  Bossy, slightly overbearing, used to be a bully to her younger siblings, but you never fucked with her family or she would come after you like Jason Borne.” She laughed and followed him down the next aisle. “Scott and I were always close growing up.  I would usually get us in trouble and he would always take the heat for it because he was too nice.  And Shanna…. She’s your typical younger sister.  She’s the baby, you know.  Bratty, kind of annoying, but not loud.  She’s one of the quiet ones.  Definitely prefers to keep to herself.  I can’t say I blame her with a family as loud as ours is.  But she’s my baby sister and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

“What about your mom?”

“She’s insane.”

She laughed. “Isn’t that description of most mothers?”

“Probably?  Is yours?”

“You have no idea.”

He laughed. “Ma is…. She collects anything and everything I’ve ever done.  Every newspaper or magazine that I’m in, she collects it.  She has a shelf with nothing but DVDs and Blurays of my movies and even the TV shows I’ve done.  She’s so proud of me that she’s bursting at the seams with it.  And she’s one of my best friends.  I tell her everything.  I always have.” She smiled. “She sounds great.  Your whole family does.”

“What about yours?”

“Uh…. Mom is definitely insane.  We don’t always get along, though.  She has very strong opinions and isn’t afraid to shove them on you.  Sometimes I get the feeling that she thinks I’m still a misguided kid that she needs to guide by the hand.  Though she’s never really had to worry too much about me because I’m boring.  I’ve never done drugs.  I didn’t have sex until I knew I was ready and it was with someone I’d been with for a really long time.  The first time I skipped school was senior year the day before prom to go shopping and like a bad episode of Saved By The Bell, I got caught by a news crew doing interviews with teenagers about the new program they were implementing at the mall.  And much to my surprise, mom wasn’t mad.  She was excited that I had done something semi-bad.”

Chris had finished getting everything he needed and they headed for the checkout counter. “So you were a goody two shoes?”

“Yeah, I guess.  I did go through a goth phase for a while.  Drove my mom bonkers because all I wanted to do was shop at Hot Topic, listen to rock music, and read vampire novels.  I even dyed my hair blonde on top and blood red on bottom.”

Chris looked her up and down. “I cannot see you as a goth.  Please tell me there’s photographic proof.”

“Unfortunately there is.  But, fortunately, I don’t have any with me.  It’s all back home in photo albums.”

He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I can’t wait to see them.  I feel like I’m going to have the best blackmail on the planet.” They stepped up to pay and before he could get in his wallet, she ducked under him and swiped her card. “What are you doing?”

“Paying.” She grinned up at him as she put in her pin. “You’ve gotten dinner the last two nights.  At least let me get this since you’re cooking.”

“I don’t think I have a choice now.” He playfully bumped her with his hip as she took the receipt and he picked up the bags.  The girl that had rung them up was staring unabashedly at Chris and giving Kate the stink eye from the side of her stare.  Chris seemed completely oblivious as he dug in his pocket for his car key.  Kate smiled politely at the girl and followed Chris out.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

“Well, this is it.” Chris said as they walked back into the living room of the spacious apartment. “I keep it for when I need some time to myself.”

“Or when you have a girl over that hasn’t made it to family meeting level yet?” “Uh, I guess so.  I haven’t actually had any girls over here since I got the place.  You’re the first.”

She blushed and walked over to the windows overlooking the city. “It has a great view.” They were at the top floor of a fourteen story building.

“The roof is mine, too.  I’ve got a little patio set up there with a grill.”

“Nice.” She turned back around to see him in the kitchen getting everything ready to cook.  Walking over to the island, she slid onto a stool and watched him work for a moment.  He shot her some smiles as she sat there.

“Oh!  Would you like something to drink?  Fuck, I’m a moron for not thinking of it.” He opened the refrigerator and rifled around. “I have beer, beer, water, beer, and oh look…. A bottle of white.  No idea how that got in there.  I’m blaming Scott.”

“Well, whoever it was, I’ll thank them later.”

“White wine?”

“Sounds good to me.” 

Chris rummaged through the drawers till he found a corkscrew and opened the bottle.  He pulled down a wine glass and poured her a generous amount. “I have no idea what kind it is.”

She grabbed the bottle and tilted it. “Oh, yum.  It’s a Riesling.  I love Rieslings.  Busch Gardens in Williamsburg has this shop in their Germany section that sells a bottle from this winery called…. I think…. Zeppelin.  It’s all in German and has a picture of a zeppelin on it.  And the lady at the store said that it was served on the Hindenburg.  But I love it.  I get a bottle pretty much every time I go.”

“Busch Gardens?  The amusement park in Florida?”

“Well, there’s two of them.  One in Florida and the one near me in Williamsburg.  The one in Florida is more Africa themed, I think.  I’ve never been.  I know they have a lot of wildlife there.  The one in Williamsburg is called Busch Gardens Europe.  It has different sections that are different countries.  Kind of like Epcot, but not.” She chuckled. “I have a season pass.  They’re doing Hallowscream right now.”

“Cool.  Do you think we can go?”

“I don’t know.  I mean, I think this weekend is the last before they start setting up Christmastown.”

Chris stopped what he was doing and turned to her. “Christmastown?”

“Yeah.  They turn the entire place into a Christmas wonderland.  There’s lights everywhere!  One section of the park has snow.  And there’s hot chocolate for days!  The Santa they have looks like the real deal.  They have different Christmas shows and some of the rides are open.  It’s really neat.  And I’m extremely excited because Elvis Stojko has a show this year.” At his blank look, she elaborated. “He’s a pretty famous figure skater from the 90s.  Kinda known as the bad boy of skating.”

“Oh.  That’s really cool.  I’d like to go to Christmastown.  It sounds awesome.”

“Well, I may know someone who can get you in at a discounted rate.”

“Yeah?  You may need to call her up and tell her to make plans for a date one evening.” He winked at her and got back to work.  She blushed and looked into her wine glass.  Three days in and he was talking about making future plans with her.  What was happening? “So, tell me more about your family.  You said your sister is a long story.”

“Ugh!  Where do I even begin with her?”

“Well, generally the beginning is a good start.”

“Ok.  I’m three years older than her and she’s not supposed to exist.  My mom got her tubes tied when she had me.  She didn’t want another kid.  But somehow, one of the tubes came untied or something and my sister was conceived.  She was six weeks early and had all kinds of problems.  We didn’t find out until about three or four years later that she’s partially deaf.  My mom babied her and my father loved her.  He never hurt her like he did my mom and I.” She took a long sip of wine and he turned to look at her. “I had a lot of anger when my parents split up and my mom moved us to a different state and she married someone new and I broke my knee and couldn’t skate anymore…. I took it out on Janice.  I turned into my father.  My mom sent me away to my grandmother’s house.  My father was living with her, but Memaw was sort of my protector.  He didn’t really mess with me.  And then my father decided he wanted custody of us both and fought my mom.  He won and my sister stayed in Kentucky with us.  Then my grandma died and I was front and center for the mental and physical abuse.  Jan was completely oblivious to it.  When my mom found out I had planned to kill myself, she brought me here for spring break and told me that when I finished my freshman year I would be moving back with her.  She wanted to bring my sister, too, but Jan chose to stay with our father.  She was going to a school where she wasn’t getting the help she needed and our father didn’t give a shit about her, so she just…. Wilted.  My sister is a 73 year old woman stuck in a 27 year old body.  Lara is going to school for her masters in psychology and she’s pretty sure Jan has Asperger’s.  All of her little quirks made sense once I read up on it.  But the damage is done.  Jan and I don’t get along that great.  I love her.  She’s my sister.  I will defend her with my life and have a couple of times.  But we spend a lot of time at each other’s throats.”

Chris turned back to his cooking before he burned anything. “It’s a sibling thing, maybe?”

“She’s a stick in the mud.  I’m a…. Well, the word vivacious gets thrown around a lot.  She doesn’t have a sense of humor, I’m kind of a sarcastic jerk like the rest of my family.  She’s the black sheep of the family.”

“Every family has one.” She took another long sip of her wine and realized she had drank it all. “Here,” Chris grabbed the bottle out of the fridge and poured her some more. “What about your brother?  Where was he in all that?”

“Uh, my brother is actually my step-brother.  It’s very rare that I distinguish that.  He’s been in my life since I was really young.  He’s had a tough childhood, too.  His mother was a raving lunatic and forged his dad’s signature on papers that signed his parental rights away so Killi could be adopted by her new husband.  My step-dad is an alcoholic, so he was too drunk to know what happened until much later.  He’s been sober for the last sixteen plus years.  January will be seventeen years.  Anyway, Killi lived with his mom in Tennessee and came out to visit more and more.  He went to college in Alabama and while he was in his junior year, his mother committed suicide and blamed it on him.  Left him a note saying it was because he left her and went away to college.  He was really messed up about it.  It’s only recently that he sought help.”

“Fuck!  Poor guy.  You’re closer to your brother, then?”

“Oh yeah.  Bad childhoods make instant connections.” She chuckled. “He’s my big brother and he acts like it.  We pick on each other and we share things that no one else knows.  He’s the one that convinced my mom not to lose her shit about me getting a tattoo.  When the asshole cheated on me, my sister in law said she had to beg and plead with Killi not to grab his gun and drive up to ‘take care of things’.  He was incredibly proud of me for giving the asshole a nice shiner.”

Chris laughed. “I’d say he deserved worse than a shiner.”

“Well, yeah.  He probably would’ve gotten it too if he hadn’t run off like he did.” She took a deep breath. “It smells great.” “It’ll be done soon.”

“Where did you learn to cook?”

“Watching my family.  We’re part Italian, so there’s always someone cooking something.  I just watched and learned.  Truthfully, this is about as skillful as I get on my own.” He checked the bread in the oven before leaning his arms against the island in front of her. “What about you?  Can you cook?”

“Uh, yes and no.  I can cook, but I’m much better at baking.  I love to make bread.  It’s a lot of work, but the payoff is usually worth it.”

“Where did you learn?” “My mom.  She and my father were both chefs for a while.  Well, my father still is.  Mom cooks almost every night.  There’s a bookshelf in the corner of the house that’s filled with cookbooks.  Everything you’ve ever wanted to make is probably in that bookshelf.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Oh god…. Uh…. Do I have to choose just one?” 

He laughed. “A foodie, huh?”

“Lately, yes.  I’ve decided to try new things.  I was a picky eater for a long time.  While I was skating, my diet was pretty strict.  So was the regimen.  I’m pretty sure that it would’ve made your training for Cap look like child’s play.”

“Try me.”

“Ok.  I was up about 4:30 every morning, went to the rink to train, came home, ate breakfast, did whatever studying I needed to do for that day, then it was off to school.  After school, depending on what day it was, I would go to ballet class, or pilates, or gymnastics, or weight training, then it would be back to the rink to work on choreography before going home and doing homework, eating dinner, and then going to sleep before doing it all again the next day.  I was a machine.  At the age of twelve I could leg press 375 pounds.”

“Fuck!  Every day?”

“Every day.  I got started kind of late age-wise.  I trained like crazy to catch up and be the best I could be.  And all the while, I had to maintain no less than Bs in all of my classes or else mom would make me stop skating.”

“Yeah, I just eat healthy and lift weights every day.  Lots of protein shakes.”

“Ugh!  I always hated those.  I didn’t need them much, though.  The curse is trying to put on muscle without putting on weight.  Just a couple of pounds could throw off your center of gravity and that leads to all kinds of badness.  The list of injuries I could give you that I’ve been through is as tall as me.”

“Oh, then that’s not that long, then.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah.  I’m short.”

He laughed and went back to finish the chicken carbonara. “So, you’re trying new things, huh?”

“Richmond is full of restaurants.  It’s a very bohemian city, so there’s lots of different types of food offered there.  I’ve started trying new restaurants and new cuisines.”

“Ok, so what’s the best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth?”

“Um…. There’s a place in Williamsburg called Le Yaca.  It’s a French restaurant that actually came from France.  I think the original is still in France.  But their food is sinfully good.  Their bread is amazing.  I love their French Onion Soup and their house salad.  But they have this dish called la crêpe au crabe.  It’s fresh crab meat and béchamel sauce with Swiss cheese and sometimes there’s vegetables all wrapped in a crêpe.  It’s so good it’s made my eyes mist just thinking about it.”

“I think I might have to break my diet for that next week.”

“I think you might have to, too.  It’s not my favorite restaurant, though.  That title belongs to Pattis in Grand Rivers, Kentucky.  I’ve been going there since I was a baby.  I always get excited when I see the signs for it on the interstate.”

“It’s funny.  You really don’t strike me as someone from a small town.”

She laughed. “Well, I am.  I almost fell into the small town life.  Like a good small town girl, I had a boyfriend from seventh grade all the way until the summer before senior year.  At Christmas in our junior year, he proposed to me and I said yes because I did love him.  But a year and a half before that I had moved to Virginia and it was definitely changing me.  When I went back home in summer, I broke it off because I didn’t want to get married at eighteen.  I really didn’t want to move back to a small town with bad memories and he wouldn’t move away because he was inheriting his parent’s very successful real estate company.  But if I had chosen to go back, I would’ve been a really young mother with a white picket fence and a dog.”

“Do you regret giving that up?”

She smiled. “Not in the slightest.  If I had, I wouldn’t be sitting in Boston with someone I admire cooking for me and wanting to spend a ridiculous amount of time with me.”

Chris smiled brightly and she fought the urge to get up and pin him against the counter with a fiery kiss.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

After dinner, which had been delicious, they relaxed on the sofa.  The bottle of wine was nearly empty now.  It was sitting on the coffee table next to her wine glass.  The conversation between them had flowed easily and the silence that was surrounding them now was peaceful.  They had tried to find a movie to watch, but nothing had really jumped out at them.  Her legs were stretched out in front of her and resting on Chris’s lap where he’d placed them.  His hands ran lightly up and down her jean clad shins absentmindedly.

It was Chris who finally broke the silence. “So, what should we do tomorrow?”

“The whale watching trip sounds like fun.  I’ve never done that.  And I’d like to visit the U.S.S. Constitution.”

“Sounds like fun to me.”

“Chris, do you want to go to the game with me Thursday?  Since I have the extra ticket.”

He smiled at her. “Yeah.  I’d love to go to the game with you.  Let’s make sure the people in front of us don’t have a cell phone, though.”

“Good idea.”

“Hey, nothing crazy happened today.”

“I thought for sure I’d end up at least tripping and falling into the penguin habitat.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have minded.”

“Nope.  I’d have found a way to sneak one of them out.”

“Cap would’ve had a friend.”

“Well, it’s ok.  He’ll have plenty of other friends at home.”

“You have lots of stuffed penguins?”

“I have lots of stuffed animals.  He’ll probably end up with Captain Bearica.”

Chris laughed. “Captain Bearica?”

“When I was back home this past June, my best friend Amanda and I took her son David, my ‘nephew’ to the Zoo and to the Science Museum in St. Louis.  They have a Build A Bear on the bottom floor and he begged to go in there.  He wouldn’t make a bear until I’d picked one out for myself.  They had one Captain America bear left, so I grabbed him and I named him Captain Bearica.  He hangs out with Thumper from ‘Bambi’.”

“Awe!  I love Thumper.”

“Me too.  My Thumper is old.  I’ve had him since I was a baby.  He’s been thoroughly loved.”

“I have a stuffed Copper from when I was a baby.”

“From ‘Fox and the Hound’?”

Chris smiled brightly. “Yeah!  Good guess.”

“I told you I’m a Disney fan.”

“I’m getting that.”

She smiled and noticed that the tattoo on his chest was peeking out from his open henley shirt.  Without thinking, she reached over and ran a finger across it. “What does it say?”

“My tattoo?” She nodded. “‘When you lose touch with inner stillness, you lose touch with yourself.  When you lose touch with yourself, you lose yourself in the world.’  It’s a quote by Eckhart Tolle.”

“Pretty.  And very insightful.”

“Thank you.  It’s just a little reminder to myself.”

“I have one of those.” She lifted her left leg and pulled the leg of her jeans up, twisting it to reveal a tattoo on the lower part of her shin just above the ankle.  Around a four-leaf clover, it read “Tomorrow is another day.” “It has different levels of meaning to me.”

Chris traced the tattoo with his finger. “‘Gone With the Wind.’”

“It’s my favorite movie.  I try to watch it at least once a year.  I got to see it on the big screen for the first time ever last year and I completely lost my shit.  I didn’t even make it to the opening credits before I started sobbing.  The music swelled and I was lost.  My mom thought it was hilarious.  It’s also the very last line of the book, which I love, and a way to tell myself to be as strong as Scarlet was.  Because she was right.  It may be hard and you feel completely hopeless today, but there’s always tomorrow to deal with it.”

He looked up at her and was smiling brightly. “You’re incredible.”

She smiled back. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Tag List:

@joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jamielea81 @southerngracela @kelbabyblue @introvertedmouse @tfandtws @sullyosully @deidrahouseofpain @lovinevans

[katiemcwrath]

=and princesses do not fall in love with pirates from the seas beyond

To: @annamorgause

Happy Birthday! It has been a hell of an interesting year so far. Some good, some bad, but I am excited to see how this next chapter of your life unfolds. Honestly, I am really glad to have had you in my life for this long and I hope your birthday is everything you deserve. I know people don’t appreciate you enough. Just know, I always will. I figured you’d wanna celebrate with your fellow Scorpios, James Hook and his new baby, Holly Hook. 

                                          Nothing gold can stay.

Rose sighed dramatically as she watched James accost an innocent individual. She debated leaving, but she was sure he would spend the entire night tormenting everyone there. She wished she could have a drink right about now. 

“Stop harassing innocent bystanders. I am right here.”

James exhaled at the sound of her voice. He turned away from the stranger and walked over to Rose. He was relieved, though it was hardly a happy reunion. He stood in front of her, silent. God damn this woman for always leaving him so out of sorts. He cleared his throat.

“You shouldn’t be at a place like this in your state,” he said.

Rose scoffed. 

“I’m surprised you’re concerned considering the last time we talked you actually accused this baby of not being yours,” she said. It was surprisingly vindictive of her; a part of her could blame pregnancy mood swing. The rest she blamed on James’ face as she broke the news to him and watched him come apart. “I haven’t been drinking. I have just been with friends, catching up.”

James’ jaw clenched. He supposed he deserved that. That didn’t mean he had to like it, though. Some ‘friends’ they were to let a pregnant woman remain in an environment like this. Even he knew better than that. “Fine place to catch up, a bloody bacchanal swarming with shifty looking university students.”

Rose snorted. They both knew most of them frequented James’ bar. It was rich coming from him, though she managed to bite her tongue. “They’re harmless,” she said. Rose eyed the frat boys by the keg and rectified. “Mostly.” 

Rose crossed her arms in front of her, as if she could protect herself from more pain. “James… why are you here?” The last time she had seen him, she told him she was willing to do this herself. She didn’t want her baby to be raised by someone that hated them. “I told you about the baby. I told you what I wanted.”

James looked away, shaking his head. She didn’t really expect him to have this conversation here, did she? He sighed, collecting himself before looking at her again. “Rose… just come back to the bar with me. We’ll talk there. You shouldn’t be here. Not like this.”

Fuck, how had he gotten himself into this mess?

************************************************************************************

Unlike many of the others, he remembered who they once were. He remembered he was not really the owner of a bar, but James Hook, captain of the Jolly Roger, the most feared pirate of Neverland. 

As soon as she stepped through the door of his pub, all eyes were on the blonde stranger, including James’. He was intrigued, to say the least. She seemed too pretty, too pristine for his pub. Still, he wasn’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth. With a snap and a shout, one of James’ barback’s was falling over himself to take the flower arrangement out of the woman’s hands. James himself sauntered over as well. “I’m James, the owner of this bar. Now how may I help you Miss…?”

“Briar. Rose Briar,” she said. “I’m doing a flower delivery.” She looked around the establishment, trying to find her footing. She tried not to stare at the giant crocodile perched against the wall or wrinkle her nose the smokey smell filling the room. Her gaze dropped down to his hook and went back up.“Do I have the right place?”

The pleasant smile on James’ face grew wider, “Not even close, love.” He had never seen her, but he had heard of her. Rose Briar. Briar Rose. The Sleeping Beauty. Seeing her up close he knew the moniker was well deserved.

Not taking his eyes off of the sweet little Rose, James snapped again. The barback with the flower arrangement at once appeared at his side. Ah, so satisfying to know he’d trained his employees well. And who said negative reinforcement didn’t work? James turned his head slightly to look at the barback. “Take that to the flower shop down on Main Street. If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, well. Let’s just say you don’t want to find out, lad.”

Rose’s head shot around, confused as to what just happened. The flowers disappeared through the doorway before she could argue. James smiled at her. “Now, Rose, was it? Please do the honor of buying you a drink to make up for any distress this mix up might have caused.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I mean, I clearly wrote the address wrong. It’s all my fault.” She didn’t want to be rude, but it was the middle of the day. After seeing his mouth poised for more smooth words relented. “I will take a water.” Then, she could be on her way.

************************************************************************************

She wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him.

It wasn’t the age difference, though sometimes it became a bit more obvious that she was twenty-six and he was twenty-five. No, the big issue was the stream of people that came into the pub. They were literally lining up to be with him and Rose felt the jealous seethe within her. They were friends. They were friends. She repeated the mantra so much it stuck inside her heart like a drumbeat.

They were friends.

Then she kissed him and they weren’t.

She always knew they existed in the liminal space between dating and nothingness, but she didn’t expect for her jealousy to overtake her. She pushed him against the wall of the alleyway behind the pub and pressed her mouth to his. For once, she had surprised him.

Then she’d asked him to define their relationship. He refused, but he did take her out on his boat. 

James didn’t want to call her his girlfriend and she didn’t want to share. They both got what they wanted, but never agreed out loud, so there was always the fear one of them would back down, that one of them would break the unspoken rules and end whatever it was they had.

It wasn’t supposed to be love, but it was. At least for her. So, no one expected for her to be the one caught kissing someone else.

She pushed him away when the shock was over but it didn’t change anything. It didn’t change the fact that their child was conceived in a chaise longue in some stranger’s house, while a party raged outside the door. It didn’t change that out of all the times they made love, the one that was fueled by anger and jealousy was the one that made their baby.

Rosie was not prepared for him to grab her hand as they walked out of the party. She knew he didn’t drive, for whatever reason, and she couldn’t afford a car since she was cut off. A fragile attempt to get her to come back home and give up on her dreams of owning a flower shop.

“My place is closer,” she said. “We can go and talk there.”

“Sure your bird won’t try to peck my eyes out again?” he asked.

“That’s only because you kept banging on the door.” 

“He sounds surprisingly human-like.”

Rose snorted. It shouldn’t have been funny, but it was. She remembered he once told her he had been left-handed before the accident. So was she. She wondered if their child would be lefthanded as well.

She was trying to figure out how to bring up the baby when he clutched her hand tighter.

“I have a son.”

Rose stiffened. “What?” 

“I left before he was born. We were seventeen and idiots.” He sighed. “You know Jim, from the pub?”

“The one who always gives me dirty looks?”

“That’s him.”

“He’s....”

“Yeah.”

Rose felt everything begin to pulse as the blood rushed through her head. This was too much.

“He came to find me after his mother passed. That’s why he’s been crashing on my couch.”

He moved to run his hook through his hair before remembering he no longer had a hand there. He sighed. “Rose. I don’t know how to be a dad. I clearly fucked it up the only time I tried. But I’m willing to give it a go. With you. If you still want me.”

Rose could her her parents screaming for her to rethink this, to run away, to run home. But she couldn’t. Maybe god would call her a sinner, but she wanted to be with him. And she knew there was good in him.

“Do you want to move in with me?” 

She stopped so suddenly, he accidentally yanked her arm.

“What?” she yelped.

“Move in with me. I need to find a bigger place anyways. We can close on something before...” he gestured at her stomach.

He avoided her eyes. Rose bit her lip and brought her other hand on his face. She made him look at her. “James?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d really like that.”

[flying-elliska]

The transformation of Lucas Lallemant pt 1 : Hell Week.

Skam OG S3  can be more or less divided in three acts, and this is even more obvious in Skam France, which has a more...dramatic style of storytelling, let’s say. Act I : Lucas meets Eliott, struggles with his internalized homophobia, develops feelings, ends with Eliott’s apparent betrayal. Act II : Lucas is isolated, struggles, finally comes out to his friends and to the world, Eliott and Lucas reunite. Act III is what’s yet to come, the revelation of Eliott’s MI, possibly elements related to Lucas’ parents and religion, and the resolution. 

I want to take a look at Act II as a unit and the essential character developpment that takes place within it, starting from the disastrous party scene at the end of Vendredi 19h21 and ending with the paint scene in Vendredi 18h34, because this is really where we can see Lucas’s arc pivot, as he is left alone to confront himself, and the nuance with which it was done is incredible in terms of storytelling. 

Fair warning, it’s going to be a long one. 

Vendredi 19h21 : Fête de trop 

It has been pointed out by many that, whereas Isak and Martino punched into bushes and garbage cans during this scene, Lucas hurts himself until his knuckles are bloody. He’s angry at the world for sure, getting in a fight with his friends, but it’s ultimately himself he blames - for having feelings, for caring, for thinking he had a chance with Eliott, for being attracted to a boy, for wanting a family that supports him, for wanting to be loved. Chloe possibly outing him by yelling Lucas is gay in a crowd, Arthur joking about his family, Eliott kissing a girl - it brings all his worst pains and fears to a head, and things he’s been repressing for the longest time just boil over, in the shape of rage and inarticulate despair. He punches his hand into the wall because he cannot speak, cannot think, cannot do anything else. It’s violence and self-harm as a symptom of powerlessness. The look on his face at the end I read as him being totally overwhelmed.

 In the background the song talks about partying to pretend to be alright - but emptiness and chaos catch on eventually. It’s ironic in a sense because the singer is talking about glitter and kissing boys in public, things Lucas very much shies away from, but in the end the result is the same, loneliness and alienation. The association of the two brings up very old themes in queer culture, specifically things gay men have had to deal with - feeling adrift, disconnected from family and people and feelings, internalized hatred, self-harm, feeling like you have nowhere to go, putting on a happy face even when you’re spiralling out, partying as a substitute for connection, and what happens when the facade breaks. At the same time, the drop after excess can have a revelatory effect. 

Even if it’s painful, this scene is necessary and kickstarts the part of his journey where he is facing his fears on his own. The hurt is a recognition of what is happening to him and how important it is. 

Lundi 08h52 : Scared but doing it anyway

That's the definition of courage.  With his bandaged hand and the slow opening, as he puts his hoodie up, he looks like a boxer stepping into the ring. Lighting is at its most overcast, blue-tinted, dark and depressing. This clip is heartbreaking, bringing Lucas's worst fears to the light. Being mocked and ostracized, turned into a vulgar joke, having been played for a fool. 

Fear number one. He sees his friends laughing at him. Lucas is a character with huge abandonment issues, understandably. As his familial situation went sideways and his sense of self was put in turmoil, he’s relied on the normalcy of his friendgroup to keep him afloat, going to great lengths to preserve their view of him - even declaring love to a girl he feels nothing for. Them laughing would feel like the ground disappearing under his feet. 

Fear number two. We can see Alex mimicking a blowjob. Through his rant to Mika about dick shaped confetti or his reaction to “Krindr” dick picks, we can see that he seems to be uneasy when it comes to the overly sexual way the gay community is often presented. And homophobic jokes and behavior tends to be overly sexual too, reducing gayness to a series of sexual acts presented as disgusting, instead of the whole love, identity and culture aspects (not that there is anything wrong with gay sexuality in itself, but when it’s reduced to only that, it would be understandable he has issues with it, especially for a teenager who’s just discovering things, belying the cliché that all men are naturally horndogs.) He's afraid of his intimate feelings and process of discovery becoming a vulgar joke, that’s very understandable. 

Fear number three. Eliott looking at him smugly. Basically confirming that he’s a player,  that this very special connection they had, something that allowed Lucas to open up and be vulnerable and artistic and bold, and muse about alternate universes and play the piano and feel comfortable enough to be happy kissing another boy - was a lie. Eliott doesn’t care and now he’s able to be on the side of the bullies because to him - like the cliché “bisexuality” Lucas had in mind talking to the girls - his attraction to boys is just a fun side piece, he can just go back to his girlfriend afterwards, whereas Lucas can’t. He’s “stuck being gay” and he’s failed at maintaing a straight façade. 

To close it off, there’s Chloé, fulfilling the narrative purpose of a ticking clock and a reminder of Lucas’ failure at straightness and imminent outing. This of course, is not really happening, but this paranoia is very typical of being a closeted queer person, of constantly having to wonder who is going to love you anyway and who is going to reject you because even when your people are mostly liberal and tolerant, there is no way to really know because of how deep homophobia is rooted in our society (see my meta about French humor). It really is Schodinger’s unconditional love. 

And then there’s Daphné. This is the first of several ‘tonal breaks’ in this arc, in which the angst is cut with moments of levity, randomness and wacky jokes that seem a little out of place but do serve a purpose narratively and in terms of themes. In this one, she goes out of her way to praise Lucas’ masculinity. It wouldn’t surprise me she already heard rumors, going from the alarmed look on her face, and wants to reassure Lucas he is still a man in her eyes. Daphné is an interesting character to do this. Because she has little brain to mouth filter, she tends to say stupid things and offend people, but at the same time, she can break through people’s walls and isolation - the foyer, meant to bring different people together, is a symbol of this. She’s a key representative of Skam’s central theme of people being flawed, able to learn, and of -trying and reaching out, even with mixed results, being a super important thing. Therefore, it’s interesting she’s the first to reach Lucas in this difficult phase, and this will happen again later. At the same time her words about defenseless women needing a strong man is a reminder of the overwhelming clichés about gender roles that make Lucas’ life so difficult. 

Lundi 14h03 : Ennemies and Allies

Chloe's threat of outing Lucas whenever she wants gives the whole episode a feeling of urgency. She is extremely hurt and he can’t catch her, either physically or symbolically. She’s a loose cannon, and her holding Lucas’ outing hostage as revenge feels very violent. It's not clear that anybody knows yet, but she could take Lucas's choice from him any time now. His harsh and terrified words (”I’m not a f*g”) illustrate the level of denial he is trying to stay in as it’s slipping away from him, the powerlessness he feels. The scene taking place in PE class with people throwing balls at one person standing in a goal reinforces the overal symbolism of being put on the spot. 

On the opposite side, Yann's reminder of support sets up what happens later. He wants to be there for Lucas, but he’s also been hurt by his silence. He doesn’t want the squad to be Lucas’ punching ball if he can’t verbalize. 

Mardi 13h08 : Miscommunication. 

Eliott is trying to make a joke about the time they met and he couldn’t chose what to get from the vending machine ; Lucas interprets it as him saying he wants both Lucas and his gf, and he responds harshly. Lucas is pretty much standing up for himself here, as painful as it is. He signals to Eliott he's not game to just forgive and forget, to do as if what happens didn't matter. Him alluding to a choice that Eliott needs to make - there's still a sliver of hope there though, as agonizing as it seems.

Lucas not finding a place to sit and leaving the canteen represents his worst fears about coming out - being left alone. It’s a classic high school story trope, not knowing at which table to sit, eg. not fitting in anywhere, so he chooses not to feed himself. (Again, hurting himself). 

Mercredi 13h37 : Sorting through your old shit

This moment of levity after the heavy angst serves as a reminder that life, whether you are ready for it or not, goes on. It’s also the second time that the show subverts horror tropes - first in the first kiss scene for romantic purposes, here for comedic purposes with the creepy dolls everywhere and the guy with an axe. The theme is that things that look scary at first often aren’t, and can even bring unexpected gifts. The overall scene doesn’t have much impact on the plot, but it can symbolize several things - the need to do away with the messy things of the past (like all the shit in the shop and internalized homophobia), giving things that are still useful a new place where they can be better appreciated (the couch is a metaphor for Lucas being gay lmao), the difficulty of dealing with grief and your baggage alone and the need for outside help (like the shopkeeper who can’t get rid of his brother’s things), the importance of playfulness and unexpected gifts (table football). 

The girls opening up about their dating woes puts Lucas’ struggles in the larger context of teenage boys being trash, normalizing what he goes through. On the other hand, again, Daphne’s comments and Imane’s joke show that the girl squad have their own problems with gender clichés. Manon denouncing them marks her as a safe place for Lucas, as well as her going through the deeper kind of turmoil of love troubles. 

Lundi 01h48 : In the abyss

The scene is dark and drenched in blue light, giving it an oceanic, almost submarine vibe. This is Skam taking full advantage of its real time format, showing the story at a time where viewers are very likely to be in the same state of exhaustion and half-consciousness as the characters. 

Even though he doesn't show it much, Lucas is a deeply caring character. He's just been extremely burned out, possibly by his family situation, and what happened with Eliott. And yet, it's still there. We can see it here in how he comforts Manon, trying to be stoic, but it's getting to him in the end. Compassion is often much easier to extend to others than to yourself. He might punish himself for feeling too much, but he would never do that to Manon. 

This scene is, to me, the most pivotal moment of the season yet along with the piano scene : they're moments where we see Lucas's soul come to the surface. And as vulnerability is key to the plot, those moments of openness really move things along. The piano scene was Lucas letting out his more passionate, artistic, sensitive side ; this moment is more raw and ugly, about what lies beneath the anger, the despair of caring too much. And yet there is beauty and relief in owning it. In this particular context the shell of anger Lucas protects himself with is meaningless - it’s just the utter loneliness of the night and two people who are broken and lost. Manon is also from a broken home of sorts, she’s also been given a lot of reasons to give up on love. The fact that they’re able to share this intimacy of letting themselves feel like that, at a moment where words are beyond them, is however a sign that they’re not giving up. They’re feeling the feelings, as painful as it is, and they have a witness. It’s beautiful. 

Vendredi 09h14 : Exhaustion

Lucas's body is basically close to giving up on him. He can front all he wants, but he's still only human. So he goes to see the school nurse for insomnia. He thinks maybe if he can solve the physical problem, maybe get pills, he can go back to being tough and pretending nothing is wrong. The nurse’s answer - not exposing himself to any screens or blue light before sleeping - is laughably unadapted to his problems, which in turn makes the idea that Lucas can solve his problems this way ridiculous as well.

The nurse is a mess - is she cheating on her actual husband there ? Why is she talking about her (murder)fantasies to a student ? Teacher’s back acne ? She illustrates that adults still have problems (again, normalizing what Lucas goes through) and that life in general is messy and you need people on your side who can be there even though you are going through ugly, difficult things. Lucas cannot talk to her, they’re not on the same wavelength at all, but there’s still someone he can talk to. The medecine is not pills, it’s human support and trust. 

Vendredi 17h05 : Trust issues 

This clip is very painful to watch. 

First Eliott’s drawing. At this point in the story it feels like a cruel joke. This guy played him, and now he’s talking about destiny ? Lucas really bought into the whole Polaris thing, we could see he was starving for a real connection, and maybe he thinks Eliott is using that against him, tugging on the heartstrings like a true artsy fuckboi. At the same time, the loneliness that emanates from the drawing is heartbreaking for us, who know what’s up with Eliott. 

Lucas decides to go talk to Yann. That’s his destiny. I thought he was going to walk up to Eliott for a moment, the filming is deliberately ambiguous, but no. In a way, he’s choosing himself, deciding to bring stability to his life by opening up to the guy who’s been his main support system for years : Yann. And he lays it all on the table - his problems with his family, his insomnia, the mess with Chloe, the difficulty talking, having a crush of sorts for Yann, falling in love with Eliott. He’s so brave. He banks on his ability to trust Yann, he wants to believe he’ll be there for him. He’s finally coming out to someone on his own terms, with clear words. 

It doesn’t work. Now, I never believed Yann was homophobic - his face only shuts down when Lucas starts talking about all the people who already know. But after Lucas’ slow, painful journey towards opening up, it feels like a bucket of ice water in the face. However, it is thematically appropriate. 

This story arc tries to balance two concepts very delicately : on one side, as a teenager it’s important to realize that you’re not as alone as you think, not alone struggling. On the other hand, both internalized homophobia and French culture’s latent homophobia (that makes people do shitty things even though they’re not homophobic at heart, without realizing it) make this process of teenage alienation vs self discovery and acceptance, a thousand times more painful than it needs to be. Ending the episode on this note signifies that the struggle is real, that however brave you might be, sometimes the world is going to try and slap you down anyway. Thankfully, the story doesn’t end there, but for Lucas, this is the bottom of the pit. As his instagram post says ‘god needs your lifeboat as an ashtray’. Sometimes your best efforts mean nothing. This seems like a very pessimistic and cruel conclusion but I believe it’s an important beat in the story, recognizing that sometimes things go wrong through no fault of your own. It’s the system that is to blame, that has not given the tools to Yann to react properly and for the both of them to communicate better and for Lucas to accept who he is and not hurt people around him in order to hide. They’ve gone the road of validation over comfort and I think it’s a very interesting choice. (Even though I can also understand people who needed a more positive message and were hurt by this). But like a lot of queer people, I’ve had my share of half-botched coming outs and it’s important to show how you come back from that. 

...

So in a nutshell : this week, we bear witness to the slow death of Lucas’ tough, uncaring, player straight guy facade. His feelings have reached a boiling point, and he can’t ignore them any longer, it’s taking a toll on his body and isolating him from his friends. The moments of levity serve to dedramatize and normalize what Lucas goes through, encouraging him to reach out, while at the same time, the show takes his pain and fear seriously, by showing the minute toll it takes on his health and the less than ideal reaction of the people around him. However, through it all, he finds the courage to keep facing his feelings and opening up. He is staring his worst fears in the face - abandonment, ostracization, having his feelings used against him - and he still manages to choose trust. Eliott might have been a catalyst, but in the end he chooses to do what’s right for himself. He talks, even though it’s almost a moment of symbolic death, but the transformation can take root from there. Honesty is grueling sometimes, but it’s still necessary.  It’s better than letting the lie ruin your health and your relationship, better than hurting yourself in an attempt to push down the truth, better than violent powerlessness or night time devastation. Lucas is so good at wearing a mask, but how he reacts in this crisis is revelatory of his own deepest need for change and love. 

In short, I love this character with the intensity of a thousand suns and even though it's super painful I love that we got to go on this journey with him.

Thank you for reading this monster of a post, and see you next time for pt 2 : Acceptance !