#15' home library ceiling

[roaringcersei]

Library in Toronto Inspiration for a large timeless built-in desk medium tone wood floor and brown floor home office library remodel with gray walls and no fireplace

[girlivealwaysbean]

i am so fine—

[chelseeebe]

everything has changed

you and steve were once the bestest of friends, cruelly torn apart when you’re forced to leave hawkins suddenly. fifteen years on, everything has changed and yet, nothing has changed.

i had this idea a while ago and then have recently become re-obsessed with the song so decided to give it a rewrite! it’s kinda giving seven x everything has changed and i love that. i have a sitcom level idea of a part two for this but i’m not sure it’ll ever come to fruition

18+. no smut but my blog is 18+ :) mostly just fluffy friends to lovers stuff hehe

‎♡‧₊˚

“you promise we’ll be friends forever?” steve asks, quirking his little eyebrows up. still so innocent, so unaware that the world was a cruel place.

“i promise!” you’d shrieked, toothy grin beaming over at him as you sat poised on the climbing frame. “we’ll write letters every week and in the summer you can come and visit!”

steve whooped with glee, the metal frame shaking from the force of his body, “okay! my mom has your mom’s number so i can call you,” grubby hands clinging onto yours.

you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug, wobbling atop of your tower. full of hope and your shared joy. oblivious to how the next 15 years would play out.

-

life hadn’t been so kind as to keep the two of you in contact. steve’s mom had tried to explain it to him, but his poor seven year old brain couldn’t quite grasp it.

it was only when he was older that he had realised what had happened.

you had been whisked away to california, your mother’s home state, far away from your dad. for your safety of course. his mother had warned him not to mention where you had gone to anyone, and he’d stuck by that.

and really, life had gotten in the way of thinking about you too much. basketball tryouts and getting girls into the back of his bmw had taken precedence over fading thoughts of freckly girls he once knew.

steve was at college now, admittedly tagging along with robin, but he was enjoying it. he played basketball, studied children’s education and had even scored himself a kinda stable girlfriend.

he’s sat in the library, book open and unread in front of him on the table as robin attempts to convince him to go out tonight.

“it’ll be fun! besides, i promised my roommate that i’d go.. y’know she’s having a hard time,” turning on the puppy dog eyes that more often than not, worked on him.

he groans, “i don’t know rob.. finals are coming up soon and i really need to get this down if i wanna graduate with you,” though he makes no effort to actually pick up the book, more interested in the coffee robin had used as a bargaining chip.

“steve,” almost warningly, “come for an hour,” nodding at him, as if to subliminally make him agree, “and then i’ll help you study all day tomorrow, okay?” tilting her head, bright green* eyes glistening at him.

“fine,” succumbing to her pleas, “but you owe me,” sending a glare across the table as he finally turns the page.

robin grins, happy she’d gotten her own way. again.

-

they walk arm in arm into the bar, squeezing through the crowd as they attempt to locate robin’s mysterious roommate.

steve sighs, whispering into robin’s ear, “why do i have to be here? just because your roommate is a lonely weirdo, doesn’t mean you have to drag me out too,” pouting like a petulant child.

she pinches his arm, causing him to yelp into her ear, “this is why i used to pray for the ceiling light to fall on your head in mrs click’s class,” pulling away from him as she spots whoever she’s looking for.

“wait.. what?” he calls out after her, weaving through the crowd to find her again.

she has her face buried into someone’s shoulder, blabbering about the busy bar and how good it was to get out.

robin pulls away, gesturing over to steve as this lucrative stranger meets his eye.

it’s you.

the little girl who had promised to be his best friend forever now stood before him, all grown up. he almost doesn’t believe it. in fact, he can’t. not until you speak, his name echoes around meaninglessly.

“what the fuck?” he gasps, still in utter shock.

“it’s really you? you’re.. oh my god, you’re steve of course you are,” wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug, the exact way you had fifteen years ago.

you even smell the same, a distinct sort of vanilla smell that takes his mind hurtling fifteen years into the past. he almost wants to throw up from the turbulence of it all.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” you gasp, still nuzzled into his shoulder, “this is so surreal,” now holding him at arms length, dissecting his face in the same way he was yours.

you looked the same and yet completely different. no more gappy smiles or sun bleached hair, very pretty. his seven year old self had thought so too, but your friendship had meant more.

“you two know each other?” robin perplexes, watching the scene unfold with zero context.

“we.. uh- yeah,” unsure of how much he can divulge, still under strict orders from his mom to never tell a soul where you’d gone.

“we were friends, i was born in hawkins so.. god, this is so weird,” you exasperate, letting go of his frame to talk to a bewildered robin.

“you’re from hawkins? you told me you were from california?” robins face twists in confusion.

“it’s a.. complicated story,” you look back at him, still trying to decipher if he was even real, “i moved away when i was young but we were like, best friends,” baring your teeth with your smile.

“well shit, i’ve got time,” robin laughs, sliding into the booth, she looks up at steve, “drinks on you.. you know, to celebrate,” wiggling her brows in that irritating way she did when she wanted something.

he dutifully obliges as you begin your story, he supposes that now you probably can.

your dad had moved out of hawkins a while ago, it wasn’t exactly a secret as to why you guys had just up and left so abruptly. steve had always hated him, made sure to glare daggers into his back when he and his mother would pass him in the street or in melvalds. he felt he owed you that.

plus steve was angry, angry that you’d had to leave him behind because of your dad. his tiny mind couldn’t comprehend that it was for the better, only understanding that it was your dad’s fault his best friend had been taken from him.

steve’s curious about california, how your life differed from hawkins. you play it off as nothing special but you smile differently when you speak of afternoons after school spent on the beach and learning to surf.

he makes some off-hand comment about making it out which causes your brows to furrow, “so did you,” tapping the table in front of him, “remember we would talk about college? living in a big house together?”

he chortles, almost choking on his beer, “yeah, with ten dogs and three cats,” shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

“wow..” robin butts in, “so you did this with other girls before me?” faux-offence written all over her face.

you beam, looking between the two of them, “so are you guys dating?”

steve does choke this time, sputtering as the bitter liquid slides down the back of his throat.

“no!” they chime in unison.

“jesus christ, you think i’d date him?” robin falls into a fit of giggles, it didn’t hurt his ego anymore. robin had very particular tastes and that very much didn’t include men.

“thanks rob..” he snarls jokingly, “i uh, i have a girlfriend.. just not robin,” he’s not sure why he’s apprehensive to tell you. christ, he’d only re-known you for five fucking minutes.

“sorry, i just assumed..” shrinking into your seat, desperate to change the subject.

he’s modestly pleased that you don’t ask any more about his girlfriend, which in turn makes him feel a rotten sense of guilt.

“yeah well, to assume makes an ass out of you and me,” robin adds, giving you a poke to your ribs for good measure, “and he’s definitely not my type,” her nose shrivelling up in disgust.

you snigger, poking robin right back as she explodes into her myriad of reasons why she would never date steve. she kept a list.

there’s a sickening feeling of affinity, like all the years you hadn’t been together just ceased to exist, they no longer mattered.

especially when your eyes meet as robin prattles on, like you’re sharing an old joke.

he doesn’t like this, doesn’t fancy his odds of coming out of this unscathed but that doesn’t stop him from shifting his chair closer as the night goes on. nor does it stop him from walking you home, supporting a tipsy robin on his arm.

and it most certainly doesn’t effect him when you hug him goodnight, nestling your chin into his shoulder the way you used to.

fuck.

-

steve climbs down the steps into the strange smelling studio, he hadn’t even known this ever existed. there’s art littering the walls, the shelves, just about any surface that was available.

you’re at the back of the empty room, dabbing a paintbrush onto a canvas, completely unaware of his presence.

“hey.. robin said you’d be down here,” he speaks softly, so as to not startle you.

you still jump, clutching your chest as you spin on your heel, “jesus christ,” panting rather dramatically, “you scared the shit outta me,” shock turning into a wide smile.

“sorry,” he chuckles, weaving through the easels, trying his damn hardest not to touch or knock anything over, “what ya’ working on?” peering at the canvas.

it’s a beautiful scene, a lone swing set lies in the middle, surrounded by a peachy-pink sunset. it’s reminiscent of something he can’t quite place.

“oh just..” shrugging him off, “some stuff for my exhibition.. i dunno if i like it yet,” downplaying the glorious work of art in front of him. as if there were any need.

“what are you talking about? it’s so good,” still clinging onto his backpack strap.

you shake your head, taking the apron off of your body, tossing it onto the hook full of other dirtied aprons. “i can do better.. anyway, did you trek all the way down here for a reason or..?”

he lingers by the painting for a second longer before turning to face you, remembering his actual aim, “yes! are you joining us for dinner tonight? robin wants you to meet all of our friends,” he offers, though he’s aware it’s not much of a deal for you.

“uh.. who’s gonna be there?” you ask, quirking a brow. he’s aware that you’re not exactly a social butterfly.

“well, nancy, jonathan, vickie.. argyle, if jonathan can convince him to come out,” they were all nice enough, if he and robin liked you, they definitely would too.

“i dunno..” wrinkling your nose.

“come on,” he pleads, “it’ll be fun.. they’ll love you. nance’s been begging me to get you out.. please?”

you shake your head, as if weighing up your options, “okay.. fine, but dinner’s on you,” as you drop the pallet into the sink for someone else to deal with.

“great,” he beams, there’s something to be said about the fact he still hadn’t introduced katie to the rest of his friends yet.. but he doesn’t wanna think about that.

his hand comes to rest on what he thinks is a dry desk, waiting for you to finish up, only to find his hand now covered in goopy white paint, “oh shit,” he fusses, pulling your attention from the sink.

“oh fuck, i should’ve told you that was wet..” looking between his outstretched hand and his eyes, a giggle bubbling on your lips as he stomps over to the sink.

“oh is this funny to you, huh?” joining you at the basin.

you run the hot water for him, grabbing the bottle of soap ready to clean his hand, “well it’s a little funny,” lips twitching while he stands like a lemon.

as steve normally does, he acts before he thinks, pressing his paint-covered palm to your cheek, only registering what he had done when you shriek in response, splashing water everywhere.

“you asshole!” you gasp, brows furrowed as you conjure up something for revenge.

that’s when you grab the still paint-covered brush and smear it over his cheek and nose, staining his features a daring bright orange.

“oh it’s like that is it?” he grins, grabbing your wrist with his clean hand, threatening to mark you again. “you don’t wanna mess with me, i’ve got the upper hand,” sticking his tongue out slightly, unable to shake the way your eyes still glistened the same.

“if you want me to come to dinner, you’ll put your hand down.. call a truce,” bargaining with him.

he obliges, holding his hands up in surrender, “okay.. okay, you win,” unable to contain his laughter as he washes the paint from his palm.

you shoulder barge him as you come back to the sink, pulling your clean brushes from the water and leaving them to dry on the metal board.

“we’re gonna have to swing by my room,” you smile begrudgingly, shoving your stuff into your bag, watching as he dries his hand.

“okay,” his grin still lingering, “personally, i think you should just come to dinner like that.. it looks great,” enjoying the ribbing that came with being your friend.

you scoff, practically pushing him out of the studio, ensuring he couldn’t wreck havoc on anything else.

the pair of you glide down the hall, steve filling you in on the guests that would joining you for dinner when a voice calls his name from in front.

katie bounds up to him, smile fading the second she sees the new colour of his face, “why are you orange?” face screwed up as she rescinds her offer of a kiss. he’s slyly thankful that your adorned his face now.

“oh we.. i- i tripped, got paint everywhere,” he chuckles, feeling like a scolded child.

katie hums, “right.. that’s kinda weird,” her eyes flit over to you and the paint on your face, “you trip too?” a judgemental look flashing across her features.

“no,” shrinking into yourself, “steve.. tripped,” doubting your own words, like your measly paint fight needed to be kept secret. but maybe that’s just how he felt, is that wrong?

he can’t decide.

“hmph,” katie frowns, her attention turning back to steve, “go and clean up.. you look like a clown,” before speeding off down the hall, ponytail flouncing around as she goes.

he just rolls his eyes continuing out of the building as you scurry along behind, “she seems nice,” sarcasm dripping off your tongue.

“ignore her,” brushing the whole encounter off, “she’s just.. pissy because i’m busy tonight, don’t take it personally,” offering a short smile. he glances at his watch, grimacing at the time, “oh shit, we’re late,” grabbing your hand as he starts sprinting ahead.

“i can’t meet your friends like this!” you holler, bounding behind him.

“they won’t mind!” he screams into the wind, dodging other students with a skill only possessed by someone who chronically sleeps through their alarm.

they really don’t.

in fact, robin bursts into laughter as you walk into the diner, “i’m not even gonna ask,” tapping the plush cushion for you to slide in next to her, steve follows closely behind.

the two of you share a look, an inside joke that was just yours. he liked that, it made him feel strangely important. like he was worthy of sharing things with just you.

everyone is lovely, obviously. he had no doubt that they would be. argyle corners you about california, discovering that it is a rather large state and no, you won’t have bumped into each other.

steve doesn’t want the night to end, he’s selfish like that. so he does the sane thing to ensure you spend as much time together as possible, walking you and robin back through campus, still adorned with paint.

“thank you.. for making me go,” you smile coyly once you reach your door, robin had already disappeared off inside, leaving just the two of you.

“no worries.. i told you they’d love you,” shoving his hands into his pockets, mostly so he doesn’t do anything stupid.

you chuckle, reaching for the door handle, “i’ve really missed you, you know? it’s like it’s all hit me at once,” shrugging your shoulders as if that were just some nonchalant comment he would ever be able to forget.

“i missed you too,” he adds, truly meaning it.

sure, he’d found friendship again but nothing had ever felt quite like you. it was different, and even now after years and years of being in separate states, with no idea that the other was even still alive, it all felt normal.

like you could walk back into that park tomorrow, sit on the swings and just natter away about everything and nothing like you used to.

“goodnight, see you tomorrow?” you smile, sliding through the door, waiting just long enough for his reply.

“of course,” returning the smile.

he hums all the way home, a child-like joy overrunning his senses. he thinks about you when he dreams, of sharing crayons and candy. high-pitched giggles and an unfaltering feeling of love.

-

it had been weeks of hanging out now, sharing tales from your childhood, robin was still struggling to understand that you were also from hawkins. “you’re just.. it’s crazy, you’re nothing like the usual hawkins dwellers and the fact that you were friends with him? wow..” she had muttered with a swift jab to steve’s arm.

she had had the bright idea of a sleepover, they hadn’t really been able to since moving to chicago, out of respect for their roommates but now her roommate was you, what was stopping them?

“why don’t we push the beds together?” robin blurts out, like a lightbulb had just gone ding on the top of her head.

you nod excitably, going to heave your bed across the room. steve pushes the end of the bed frame, connecting it to robin’s as she stands there doing absolutely nothing to help.

“phew thanks robin, couldn’t have done that without all your help!” steve quips, throwing his best friend a snide smile.

“shut up dingus, my nails are still wet,” as if that made it okay.

you smile at the two of them, stood in your pyjamas that steve had definitely not been gawping at. he doesn’t mean to, he knows it’s not like that. he has a girlfriend for christ’s sake.

that’s what he’s been telling himself anyway.

“you’re in the middle,” robin declares, looking at you, rather than him, “put your cold feet on somebody else for once,” before climbing into her side of the bed.

you slide in next, cuddling up to robin as you do. steve’s next, fashioned in his excuse for pyjamas, namely a chicago university shirt and his boxers. it probably wouldn’t go down well if katie were to find out but he didn’t particularly care.

there’s a joke there, something about sharing a bed with a lesbian and his childhood best friend but he can’t be bothered to think about it.

not when you turn over to face him, all smiles and warm cheeks, he has to remind himself that robin is on the other side of you, mumbling something about not waking her up early.

“goodnight,” you grin, relaxing into the pillow you shared as the light flickers off.

“night,” he replies, pulling his eyes away from your shadowy features, deciding that staring at the fuzzy ceiling was better than being a freak.

you roll over slightly, head falling onto his shoulder making his breathing falter, sworn to this position until you up and moved. it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

he shouldn’t be thinking like this, you’re friends, old friends to be exact. and he has a girlfriend.

-

except, he awakens in the morning, stiff shoulder and a cricked neck, taking a peek at the other side of the bed to find robin had forced you into him with her sprawling limbs.

you rouse not long after he does, blinking at the light and hurriedly moving your head from his dead arm.

“oh my god,” you remark, “i’m sorry.. was i on you all night?” wriggling around the small space you held.

steve exhales, lifting his arm in the air in an attempt to get some blood flowing back into the extremity, “yup.. it’s okay though,” quickly rolling over to face you, “sleep well?”

“well, apart from robin’s foot in my back.. yeah, pretty well,” chuckling into the pillow as you shy away. he wishes you wouldn’t.

“then it was worth the dead arm,” returning your abnormally bright smile, you were far too chipper for this time in the morning but he didn’t mind. made a difference from the usual grump robin was in, for sure.

“you should sleep over more often,” you smile.

he heart soars, god he’d love to. “oh yeah? like we used to?”

the crinkle by your eye returns, remembering times gone by, “yeah, just like that,” speaking softly, as if it wouldn’t take an industrial alarm to wake robin.

“you wanna go get breakfast?” he asks, before this devolves any further.

“absolutely.”

-

there’s a knock at the door, tommy doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even make a half assed effort to pretend to care so steve huffs and gets up to answer.

you’re stood on the other side, already smiling as you wait. it’s a welcome sight, without robin he’s been a little stir-crazy, not yet brave enough to venture to your room without her there.

maybe he’s afraid that something would happen, maybe he’s not. he’s not entirely convinced that he’d have the power to stop himself.

“i just came to give you a ticket.. for my exhibition, it’s on saturday so.. if you’re busy i totally get it,” you fret, offering out the ticket to him.

there’s an undetermined feeling in his stomach, looking down at the paper ticket in his pal, warmth rushing to his chest at the fact you’d even considered him.

steve steps out of the room, closing the door behind him, away from tommy and listening ears. tommy and katie were friends somewhat, mostly by association through his girlfriend carol. anyhow, he wasn’t keen on him telling some misconstrued story to carol and then reaping the punishment from that.

“wow..” still starstruck that you had asked him. “i’ll be there.. wouldn’t miss it,” sliding the ticket into his pocket, mostly so he would stop looking like a weirdo for staring at it.

“okay,” you nod, smile up to your ears, “it’s only small..” here you go again, downplaying your talent as if steve would ever care.

“stop it,” he warns, jokingly rolling his eyes, “hey, i’ll walk you back.. i needa get out of that fucking room,” gesturing for you to take the lead.

you chatter all the way across campus, talking about everything and nothing, he wants to ask if that painting of the swingset will be there but doesn’t. letting you blabber on about composition and the asshole gallery manager that wants you to set up at 6am.

its only when you reach your hall that you stop, turning to face him with a genuine smile that makes his heart thud.

“it’d really mean a lot if you came..”

he nods, stepping closer only just, “i will, i’ll be there,” assuring you as much as he could. he meant it, too. there’s really nothing he could think of that would make him not go.

he allows his gaze to slip to your lips, he lets himself do that even though he shouldn’t.

studying the curve, the slight gap between your bottom and top lip, the way they twitch with what he hopes is anticipation.

you’re both inching closer, neither of you acknowledging what’s about to happen. the air is thick, silent even. a knowing sense that you’re either about to ruin everything or become something more.

two doors down, a door swings open, a voice bellowing out, “i’ll catch up!” before a boy speeds out, glancing at the two of you briefly before disappearing.

you clear your throat, averting your gaze, studying the dirtied floor, “okay.. i’ll see you saturday,” coy smile as you unlock the door and potter off inside.

steve stands there, blinking at the wooden frame as if you’d somehow materialise from the other side.

he hightails it back to his room, in some sort of daze as he attempts to reconfigure himself. his relationship and his friendship with you. nothing made sense.

he’s not sure it ever will again.

fuck he wishes robin were here. of course she’s at some stupid family reunion when he needs her most. his next port of call would be you and well.. that didn’t seem particularly helpful.

he errs on calling robin, floating around his room with no purpose. at least tommy was no where to be seen, unsure if he could’ve handled his beady little eyes and snooping questions.

katie would be waiting on him, he always stayed over on thursdays, at least he used to. before you were back i. the picture. before you had completely consumed his mind with your stupid smile and stupid face. both a distant memory and an important part of his current life. it’s fucking dizzying.

it’s not really stupid, he thinks he’s stupid actually.

steve does what he does best and decides to ignore his brain, grabs his keys and storms out of his dorm. he’s grateful that katie’s house is on the opposite side of campus from your building. that way he couldn’t accidentally wind up there instead of where he’s supposed to be.

she welcomes him in, a pink, frilly house that steve had always detested a little bit. it smelt too strongly of vanilla and the other girls always side-eyed him, bitter and judgemental over something he couldn’t figure out.

it’s now that they’re sat on katie’s satin bedsheets that he realises that he really, really doesn’t want to be here.

nevertheless, he swallows it down. putting on false pretences as they fake-watch the shitty rom-com she’d turned on to fill the silence.

“so.. have you got your suit for saturday?” katie asks, playing with his limp hand.

“yeah,” resisting the urge to move his hand away, “sorry- saturday? i thought it was tomorrow?”

katie had asked- or more precisely begged him to escort her to this senior send off ceremony. some bullshit sorority ritual that made zero sense to him.

“uh.. no, always been saturday,” she’s still smiling, still trying, “steve, i told you weeks ago,” her frustrations seeping out of her pores, spilling over onto her features.

“you said friday,” so sure of himself, so sure that she was wrong. how would he forget that?

unless something, or perhaps someone was shrouding his mind.

“well, what plans are more important than your girlfriend’s senior send off?” she asks, all defensive.

he struggles to answer, there’s no way he can really spin it to make it sound less bad, strangled noises drift from his throat as the words fail to form.

“exactly,” katie pouts, crossing her arms over her chest, “you’ll just have to rearrange.”

steve doesn’t stay over, makes up some shoddy excuse about needing to study to get out of it. she’s not happy, obviously, but when is she?

he’s grateful that the campus is quiet as he stalks back to his dorm, thoughts swirling through his brain. everything is so confusing, his cushy little college life had been majorly disrupted and now all of the plans he had made had come crashing down.

there had been conversations about finding a house after graduation, moving in together randomly starting their life and yet, that couldn’t be further than what he wanted.

at least now.

-

steve finally gives up, turning to the only person he thinks will rationalise his thoughts, robin buckley. who has pulled her grandmother’s phone into the private dining room just for this conversation.

“we nearly kissed,” he spits out, eyeing the group of drunk students passing in the hallway. wouldn’t it be great if it somehow got back to katie through some nosy busybody.

“what? when? why didn’t you call me sooner?” she demands, “why didn’t you kiss? oh my god steve harrington, you’re so useless.”

“uh.. what do you mean why didn’t we kiss? remember my girlfriend? who’d chop my balls off if i ever cheated on her?”

“who cares? nobody likes her anyway,” robin roars right into his ear.

“i’m not gonna even acknowledge that.”

“okay, well, did you want to kiss her?”

steve pauses, perplexing the situation. he doesn’t need to really, of course he wanted to.

“..yeah.”

“well there you go!” she shrieks.

“it felt.. weird, i dunno, i think she wanted to too,” he curls the cord around his finger, “and now katie wants me to go to this senior send-off thing but there’s the exhibition.. i don’t know what to do,” his shoulders slumping.

“wait wait wait, what do you mean it felt weird?” dismissing his dilemma. you know, the thing he had actually called her about.

“well it felt right.”

the line goes silent but he can still hear her faint breathing down the line. she’s thinking, probably attempting to sweeten up her words. but eventually she sighs, “i think you know what to do.”

“but i don’t! rob i really don’t! why do you think i’m calling you at fucking one am?”

she clicks her tongue and steve can picture what smug look she has on her face, it was a signature feature of hers, especially when she’d been able to prove him wrong. “you do. i think you called me because you wanted me to tell you what you want to hear.. but i don’t even need to do that.”

he wails into the receiver, all he’d wanted was a clear cut answer from his best friend. a little advice and maybe some confirmation bias, was that too much to ask for?

“you’re no help,” he scowls, patting his now empty pockets in search of more coins, “i haven’t got any more change.. i’m gonna have to go,” sighing as he’s left on his own with his head once more.

“you’ll do the right thing, steve. i know you and i trust you,” before the line cuts out, the dial tone screams out.

he slams the piece of useless plastic back onto the holder. that wasn’t helpful, rather just some weird, reverse psychology lesson. he feels cheated, his first option of just flipping a coin would’ve been more helpful.

his feet drag along the carpet back to his room, swallowing the guilt and all of the other confusing emotions he seemed to have accumulated.

it’s funny that even though robin hadn’t exactly said anything specific, he’d known what she was talking about. it’s even funnier that as he climbs into bed, all he can think about is you.

-

steve hangs back, stood at the back while the speech finishes. he doesn’t know what he’s doing here, what he’s supposed to be looking at or talking to, incredibly out of place.

no one pays him any mind, too interested in whatever this balding man has to say.

you don’t spot him either, keeping your eyes trained to the art director. he can tell you’re nervous, picking indiscreetly at your hangnail, chewing on your cheek. you’d never liked, or been particularly good at public speaking, steve was your voice for many years. not that he minded.

there’s lots of chatter, people walking around the small space with their hands behind their back, putting on this facade that they were art snobs and not just weird middle-aged people looking for something to do on a saturday afternoon.

they all sort of disperse, ogling the paintings and such. leaving him stood in the middle of the room like a lemon, wondering if he should just go over to you or wait until this had all finished.

but you meet his eye momentarily, head snapping in his direction when you realise who it is. your lips slowly curve into a smile, ditching the conversation to weave through everyone to him.

“you came,” you state, like there was ever a chance of him not coming.

“i told you i would,” he’s not one to break a promise. ever.

“no i know but, robin mentioned something about your girlfriend, she didn’t know if you were.. forget it,” throwing your hands about, ridding the air of your words.

he’s not exactly surprised that you’d have doubts, not after your almost-kiss the other night. he hadn’t seen you since, too busy with the exhibit to sit and dwell on it, he bets.

steve shakes his head, “nah, i had something more important to do,” full of unbridled exhilaration, it’s like his body knew he had made the right choice.

you flush, avoiding his eyes as you usually do when you’re nervous or embarrassed. “well.. thank you,” shrugging him off. he so wish you wouldn’t.

he decides to just lay it all bare, tired of skirting around the truth and minimising his obviously very real feelings. “this isn’t the right time but,” smoothing down his wrinkled shirt, “i just wanted you to know that i’ve wanted to do this for weeks and.. shit,” he sighs, cupping your cheek and moving in before you can protest.

your lips connect, sending flames through his veins, you’re not expecting it judging by the lack of movement on your part, stood frozen even as he pulls away.

“sorry,” the first thing he says, watching your face as you stand shocked.

he was so sure that his feelings would be reciprocated, had pretty much convinced himself that you were destined to grow grey together but maybe he’d got it all wrong.

his cheeks burn as you just blink, time slows and he wishes that the floorboards would just collapse under him so he could disappear forever.

in lieu of a reply, you smash your faces together again, this time steve’s not quite expecting it, your noses bang against each others. but he doesn’t move, his smile growing against your lips.

there are a collection of muttered oohs from the crowd. it was rather a lot for a saturday morning.

“sorry,” you echo, biting down into your bottom lip, “not the wrong time at all,” your eyes shining through your spindly lashes.

steve bursts into laughter, drawing an even bigger crowd of eyes as he does so. his eyes dart around the vaguely stunned audience, “hey look, find me after.. i’ll be here,” gently pushing you off to go and do whatever the hell it is that artists do at these things.

you nod, all dazed and smiley, immediately falling into conversation about a painting.

-

he’s only dozing when the door creaks open, too encapsulated by sleep to bother to open his eyes. you’re dead to the world, snoring softly curled into his chest.

a quiet gasp rings out from the door and then just as expected, robin bounds over to your bed, poking his arm that was both underneath your shoulders and hanging off of the bed.

he peeks a look at his slightly deranged best friend, the lamp was just bright enough to showcase her enthusiastic grin, “you did it!” whispering far too loudly, “i knew you’d make the right choice,” buzzing around the room.

she damn near jumps in the air, clicking her heels together like some freak.

steve just closes his eyes again, falling back into sleep with a grin on his face and you between his arms.

[starvity]

hiii can you do yujin x reader first sleepover that would be so cute!!!

— ☆ first sleepover with yujin

gn!reader x zb1 yujin

genre: fluffy fluff // warnings: teenage love awkwardness™, thunderstorms, cursing, the birds and the bees talk lol, sleeping in the same bed duh, just yujin being a cutie patootie

author’s note: just realized i got kinda carried away and didn't talk about what you guys would actually do at the sleepover other than...sleeping LMAO so lmk if you want me to write a drabble about that!! :D (★ω★)/ [requested♡]

you barely get to see yujin out of school. and even there, you don’t even have that many classes together. he did come to your house a couple times. the first time to bring the textbook you had forgotten at the library. he was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, scanning the random objects displayed on your shelves while you were telling him about some drama that happened on your way home. the next time he came over was to study with you and this time, he actually felt comfortable enough to sit on your bed. after this, he would come over pretty often, most of the time to play video games or just to annoy you.

it was almost 8pm, yujin had walked back to your house with you after school to study and your mom had suggested to let him stay for dinner. what you didn’t know though is that there would be a big thunderstorm warning later in the evening and that yujin would be unable to walk back home under the pouring rain. naturally (more like awkwardly), you asked if he was okay with staying over. you said he can borrow some old clothes from your dad and you can go grab another mattress from the guest’s room.

so here you are, eyes absentmindedly looking at the ceiling as you lie on your bed while yujin is half-asleep on the mattress on the floor, just next to yours. the air has been heavy and the silence awkward as soon as your mom insisted that you two keep the door slightly opened "just in case". you had turned off the lights 15 minutes ago, with the only source of light coming from the moon piercing through your window, but both of you couldn’t seem to fall asleep.

"you’re asleep?" you finally ask, breaking the silence. "not really." yujin spoke back, almost apologising for how awkward this situation is now because of him. you tried to silently put your head closer to the edge of the bed to take a peek at the boy practically lying on your bedroom floor. however, you almost feel your heart spill out of your ribcage as your nose almost touch yujin’s, who had the same idea as you. the sudden closeness causes him to fall back, hitting the back of his head on your nightstand before crashing on his pillow and whining in pain. "you scared the shit out of me." you laugh at the incident, hand grabbing the hem of your shirt. thanks to this funny moment, the atmosphere became less awkward as you started talking about everything and anything.

after what felt like probably 2 hours, you could hear the silence of the night settling, it was probably around 1am by now. you hear yujin yawn, tossing and turning and sighing trying to lay the blanket correctly with little kicks. you giggle and finally ask "are you really going to sleep there? this mattress is so thin, your back is going to hurt tomorrow." yujin simply hums in response but then he hears you tap the empty space on the right side of your bed with your hand, "you can come here if you want."

you were resting on your side, right hand underneath your pillow and your cheeks a reddish color. you suddenly see the top of yujin’s head appear, his chin now resting on top of your blanket. "i don’t want to make it awkward though." he admits shyly, pouting. "we’ve cuddled in my bed before and if you end up feeling uncomfortable you can still switch places in the middle of the night, i’ll understand" you reassure him with a smile. the boy finally gives in, happily hopping on your bed and making himself comfortable on the much better mattress. he looks at you cutely, laying on his side while facing you. all of a sudden, he timidly spreads his arms, welcoming you in his embrace. you chuckle before planting a soft good night kiss on his cheek as your eyelids get heavy.

you two slept like a log, feeling safe in each other's warmth. you stirred awake, confused since you didn't feel yourself falling asleep yesterday and it was already early morning. yujin was still sleeping soundly, his arm carefully draped around your stomach, his breathing slightly tickling your cheek. he slowly opens his eyes, looking as confused as you were. the corners of your mouth go up seeing his half-asleep state and you nervously pucker your lips. he breathes through his nose, an almost quiet chuckle getting caught in his throat, before he lets his lips every so slightly touch yours. after mumbling a timid good morning, yujin places his face back into the crook of your neck, drifting back off to sleep.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

When I see a 1910 Beaux Arts mansion for $65M in New York City, I have to look. It has 7bds, 16ba and was once the home & studio of the late designer Oleg Cassini. There are a couple of kitchenettes, but only a proposed kitchen on the lower level, so the buyer will have to put in a kitchen.

I'm wondering about the molding and other white parts- they're very dirty and some of it looks like the result of leaking. Or, do you leave it for the patina?

Carved marble newel post. The railing needs a cleaning. Once we cleaned my library- it's over 130yrs. old, and I could not get the marble clean no matter what I used- cleaners and brushes didn't touch it- it has to be sandblasted. So, there's another thing that the new owner will have to do.

There are 6 levels above grade. The hallways look pretty good.

This sitting room looks good. It could be freshly painted.

What a beautiful wall.

The details are amazing. They painted the crown molding gray. Not sure I like it.

This room is stunning.

Here's a better view of the details in the ceiling.

The landing on this floor is large enough to serve as a sitting area.

This is one of the rooms it leads into.

The details in this home are ridiculous.

I'm not sure about the wood. I think that it needs a refresh, and the marble does look like old marble.

I'm wondering how you would perk up these walls.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/15-E-63rd-St-New-York-NY-10065/344214383_zpid/?

[zoesblogsposts]

o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

[unabashegirl]

Lycan 15 — werewolf

Y/N Y/L/N returns to her hometown, Alsfield, when her father falls ill, only to discover the town hides a dark secret—one protected by the mysterious Harry Styles. As Y/N unravels the town's mysteries, her plans to return to San Francisco are derailed.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all chapters, various one shots like The Cover and much more :)

1. If you haven't gotten a chance to vote for this weeks one shot then PLEASE DO! Right here :)

2. If you don't like any of the prompts or ideas then here is the link of GoogleForms to submit your ideas! All of this is to make the Patreon more enjoyable and worth every penny! 

—lycan masterlist —

It started getting colder and even though Harry skin and soul burned for her she could still feel the chilly air. His arms felt like blanket around her. She wanted to remain between them. Y/N just couldn’t understand how quickly her life had turned around. From what she understands she was basically married to a man and had a whole bunch of people to take care off.

“We should get going, pup. I don’t want you to get sick” Harry ran his hands down her arms, trying to warm her up. “Plus, tomorrow we will meet with one of the elders to discuss your family roots”. Harry had summed the elders in a meeting in the pack house. He was intrigued. He wanted to know about her. Harry was also doing it for his own selfish reasons. He wanted to strengthen the bond. His wolf wanted to mark her from the moment he set eyes on her.

“Already?” She instantly got nervous. Y/N was scared of what secrets her family held. Her family was already messed up as it is. However, she was also intrigued about her family roots. “What if they don’t like me?” Harry chuckled as he grabbed her hand helped her out of the woods.

“They have to, pup. You are their Luna”

“I want them to genuinely like me” Harry’s heart swooned, “I- I am scared. What if I am a bad luna? and the pack rejects me?”

“That’s not going to happen. The Moon Goddess made you Luna because you have all the qualities and capabilities to be a great one” She nodded and remained quiet. Harry still couldn’t hear her thoughts because their bond hadn’t been completed, but he could tell that she was deep in thought.

“What are they doing?” Y/N asked as they walked past a group of almost twenty people sitting and chilling around a bonfire.

“They are telling stories. The elders like to share their heroic stories and legends within the younger members” The idea had been brought on a meeting with the council. “I like it. I’ve been to a couple of them. It helps to establish the sense of belonging.”

“I'd love to go,” Harry smiled. She thought nothing of her comment, but Harry thought otherwise. He could tell it was her wolf showing interest in her position as Luna. His own wolf felt proud and restless. He wanted to meet her wolf, and Harry kept struggling to keep him subdued. He wasn’t planning on keeping her away from him, but he wanted her to meet her own wolf before anything.

“We will. Just not tonight. It’s been a long day, and you need rest,” Harry pressed his hand against her lower back and guided her towards the pack house.

The house was quieter than when they had first arrived, but that didn’t mean everyone was sleeping. The living room television was on, and the majority of the members were cuddling and watching a movie.

Y/N found it nice. It was cozy. It all felt like home. She suddenly felt the overwhelming feeling of belonging.

“Come,” Harry said to her as he guided her upstairs to the room that would become hers. “This will be your room. I hope you like it,” he said as he opened the door for her. It was a nice and comfortable bedroom, much bigger than her older bedrooms. All walls were painted in a nice shade of white with almost floor-to-ceiling French-style windows, giving out to the forest behind the house. Apart from the bed, there was a beige sitting bench by the window with a small personal library.

“I took the liberty of asking my omega to bring your things from the hotel.”

Y/N nodded as she opened the door of the closet and noticed that all her clothes had been nicely hung and folded.

“This is nice,” she smiled at him as he leaned against her new bed frame. Her eyes continued to roam around, taking in all the details of her new room. The warm tones of the walls, the comfortable furniture, and the soft glow of the bedside lamp created an atmosphere that felt both inviting and unfamiliar.

“All of this feels weird. Don’t you think?” Y/N shared her thoughts, her expression a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

“No,” he said, a sincere smile on his face. “I’ve been waiting for you my entire life.” His words carried a weight of anticipation and longing, revealing the depth of his connection to her, a connection that spanned years and lifetimes.

Y/N approached him with a deliberate slowness until their chests were pressed against each other. Her hands gently gripped his, tracing a path up his forearms and then to his shoulders. The electrifying sensation that ran through her body with each touch felt almost addicting. Harry, looking down at her, endeavored to memorize every detail of her face. In that moment, he sought to etch into his mind every sensation, every touch, and every look, as if he wanted to create an indelible record of the connection between them.

"Your scent is like a drug to me," Harry confessed as his hands circled her hips. Y/N didn't fully grasp the implications, but his words sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. The entire experience was unlike anything she had ever encountered, especially with a man. He lowered his head, nestling it into the crook of her neck. "It calms me."

Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, offering comfort. In the tranquil embrace that felt like hours but was only seconds, Harry abruptly lifted his head and withdrew from the warmth.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concern evident as she observed his furrowed brows and suddenly tense demeanor.

Harry gazed at her, offering a small, reassuring smile.

"Something came up, and I need to go check," he explained cryptically. He couldn't elaborate, a call having come through the pack link. Communicating with Y/N, who hadn't yet been initiated into the pack, posed a challenge. This was a matter he needed to clarify with her, but first, he had to find a way to awaken her wolf. Harry was certain she was a wolf; his own wolf could sense it, restless and eager to claim her.

Harry's eyes bore a mix of apology and urgency. "I'll see you tomorrow. It's pack business. There's much we need to discuss, especially about you," he added, his tone holding a weight of significance. “Don’t forget the meeting with the elders”.

Y/N nodded, trying to understand the gravity of what he was saying. She had entered a world she knew nothing about, and the mysteries seemed to be unfolding at an overwhelming pace.

As Harry left the room, Y/N couldn't shake off the sense of unease. The room, once warm and comforting, now felt slightly colder. She wondered about her wolf, and about the complexities of the world she had been thrust into.

Harry sprinted out of the pack house, a surge of urgency pushing him forward. Niall's urgent message had set his blood on fire. Trespassers had become an unsettlingly frequent occurrence, and it was a threat he couldn't ignore. Especially now, with Y/N found but not yet fully integrated into her crucial role. The pack, still in a delicate state, teetered on the edge of vulnerability. Harry couldn't afford any disturbances that might jeopardize the pack's future.

Chapter 16

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

Wollaton Hall, Nottingham

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing Wollaton Hall. This is the 7th building for my English Manors Collection, and I will add many more!

House History: Wollaton Hall was built between 1580 and 1588 for Sir Francis Willoughby and is believed to be designed by the Elizabethan architect, Robert Smythson, who had by then completed Longleat, and was to go on to design Hardwick Hall. The general plan of Wollaton is comparable to these, and was widely adopted for other houses, but the exuberant decoration of Wollaton is distinctive, and it is possible that Willoughby played some part in creating it. The style is an advanced Elizabethan with early Jacobean elements.

Wollaton is a classic prodigy house, "the architectural sensation of its age", though its builder was not a leading courtier and its construction stretched the resources he mainly obtained from coalmining; the original family home was at the bottom of the hill. Though much re-modelled inside, the "startlingly bold" exterior remains largely intact.

The house was unused for about four decades before 1687, following a fire in 1642, and then re-occupied and given the first of several campaigns of re-modelling of the interiors.

The hall remains essentially in its original Elizabethan state, with a "fake hammerbeam" wood ceiling of the 1580s, in fact supported by horizontal beams above, but given large and un-needed hammerbeams for decoration.

In 1881, the house was still owned by the head of the Willoughby family, Digby Willoughby, 9th Baron Middleton, but by then it was "too near the smoke and busy activity of a large manufacturing town... now only removed from the borough by a narrow slip of country", so that the previous head of the family, Henry Willoughby, 8th Baron Middleton, had begun to let the house to tenants and in 1881 it was vacant.

The hall was bought by Nottingham Council in 1925. Estate and personal papers of the Willoughby family were used to create the Middleton collection at the department of Manuscripts and Special Collections, The University of Nottingham. They include the Wollaton Antiphonal and the single manuscript holding the 13th-century post-Arthurian romance Le Roman de Silence.

Nottingham Council opened the hall as a museum in 1926. In 2005 it was closed for a two-year refurbishment and re-opened in April 2007.

More history: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wollaton_Hall

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

This house fits a 50x50 lot and features a great room, a formal dining room and a daily breakfast room, a great library, his and hers bedrooms, 2 royal bedrooms with their formal sitting rooms.

This time I decorated most of the rooms for picture purposes, but as allways, you can make it your own!

Hope you like it.

Be warned: I did not have the floor plan for the 2nd floor. The distribution is based on my own decision.

You will need the usual CC I use: all of Felixandre, The Jim, SYB, Anachrosims, Regal Sims, TGS, The Golden Sanctuary, Cliffou, Dndr recolors, etc.

Please enjoy, comment if you like it and share pictures with me if you use my creations!

Early access: August 15.

DOWNLOAD: https://www.patreon.com/posts/103223415?pr=true

[dreamingkatie]

away 3

This was written a year ago, but upon rereading it... I hated it. So maybe I've made it better, or maybe I've made it worse, but either way, I've written something for the first time in ages.

Part 2 is here

I peek through the diamond-paned window, breathing circles of fog onto the glass. Nina promised he’d be home today, and I hadn’t believed her, not entirely. Bittersweet relief washes over me as I see his headlights grow larger. 

I spent the day cooking with Nina, until she shooed me out of the kitchen so she could listen to the news in peace. Daniel brought me a great stack of books the week before last. I’ve read a little here and there, between watching the snow clouds roll across the grey sky. He’s given me permission to roam the grounds (keep the house in sight, darling), and I stayed close to its stone facade. The wind was cutting, though, and I don’t have a winter coat. 

I open the door to greet him and the wind whips at my hair. I put up a hand to shelter my eyes. The passenger door of his car opens. Oh no. The other man slams the door and I step back into the lantern-lit foyer, looking back for Nina.  

“Someone’s with Daniel,” I call to her. 

Nina comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her eyebrows wrinkle. I feel a little better that he didn’t tell her either.

The men trudge into the house and I wring my fingers together. The new man is a towering figure, his shadow dwarfing mine. His shaggy blonde hair brushes his collar and his face is shadowed with a couple days of growth. My teeth chatter from the cold and my hand drifts to my hair, smoothing it down where it’s flown free from the thick black ribbon.

“Hello, Daniel,” I whisper, and try to smile. 

“Kate,” his voice is warm. He drops his pack on the floor and gestures for me to come to him. He smells of the outdoors. Fresh and cold. His fingers grip my shoulder.

“This is Michael,” he says, “Michael, this is my wife, Kate. And this is our housekeeper, Nina.”

Michael smiles and bows slightly, his blonde hair falling across his face. I note his freckles, his bright blue, laughing eyes. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Michael says. 

I bite my lip and smile back, nodding. Nina comes forward, a plump flurry of skirts, and shakes his hand. 

“It’s wonderful to have you, Michael,” she says. “Why don’t you all go into the library? The fire will need tending, Daniel.”

Daniels takes my icy hands between his and leads us through the fast darkening hallway. He adds two logs to the fire, which crackles and leaps, casting its dancing light onto the coffered ceiling. I stand back, waiting for his instructions. I pray for a gentle night. 

“I’ll show you the rest of the house tomorrow, Michael,” Daniel says, stepping away from the fireplace and lighting the oil lamps. “The conservatory is on the west side, the kitchen nearly in the center of the house. Your room has been prepared, though, and should be suitable for a few nights with us.”

Michael takes a seat on the couch with a sigh, studying the room, its aging grandeur. The flickering light cast dancing shadows on the leather-bound books.

“I’m glad to be here, and thankful for your hospitality,” he says. 

“You’re always welcome,” Daniel says, taking his seat closest to the fire. He pats his leg and I lower myself to the floor, sitting beside him with my legs curled beneath me, tucking my nightgown around my toes. I feel heat in my face and keep my eyes on the fire, watching the smoke rise. 

Daniel runs his fingers over my hair, my ear, my neck. “Missed you,” he says.

“I missed you,” I say, still looking at the fire. I feel Michael’s eyes on me and I’m ashamed of my place on the floor. 

Nina brings in a tray and pours bourbon for the men. Daniel takes a long sip and leans back. 

“We’ll be ready for dinner in 15 minutes, Sir,” Nina says. She takes her tray back toward the kitchen and I hear her humming as she goes. 

Daniel taps my shoulder and I look up. He holds out a pill. 

“Oh, I’m ok. No headaches–”

“Take it, Kate,” he says. “Michael requires you tonight, and I know you would rather not remember.” He hands me his glass and I take it with bourbon. My hands shake. 

“Daniel, if it’s an imposition–” Michael begins.

“Not at all,” Daniel says, “I’ll gather her in the morning.”

“Generous,” Michael says. He smiles. I look away. 

Michael asks about the fireplace, the home’s architecture, the extension that was added two years ago. His voice drones and I note Daniel answering, but my focus is fuzzy, their voices far away.

[musicfashionmonsters]

Love Should've Brought You Home

Random short based off of a JH story I'm free styling writing. It has nothing to do with the story itself, though some facts from the latter may present themselves.

Warning: Angst ahead

Synopsis: Jack is engaged to his former high school girlfriend Simone after they reconnected and began dating in their adult years. As the stress of their careers, wedding planning and their relationship weighs heavy on them, Jack begins a five month affair with a woman he met at a party. Growing tired of lying and sneaking around, he decides to tell Simone everything.

Main Cast: Jack Harlow and Jourdan Riane (as Simone)

Cameos: None

Mad Love Library Masterlist

Jack laid back in the comfortable California king bed staring up at the ceiling as Stacey laid asleep next to him. He looked over at her, though his mind was elsewhere. He thought about Simone, his fiancee of a year and a half and the only woman to have gotten him near the full point of marriage.

The two of them had known each other since they were 14 years old and dated from ages 15 to 17. They'd broken up months before graduation due to their differences in plans and Jack's acceptance of gaining attention from other girls. She wanted to pursue a degree while he wanted to chase his rap career. Though the two supported each other's dreams and remained faithful to each other, the relationship didn't last.

Others thought they would be the high school sweethearts that stayed together through college age and eventually get married and have kids. The two of them secretly thought that as well.

Simone Le'vine was the name she was given at birth and what the world knew her as, but he knew her as Monie. A Louisville native of both French and Haitian decent with the brains, beauty and spirit to match. Hypnotizing brown eyes, brown skin, beautiful naturally curly hair that he liked to run his fingers through when it wasn't in a protective style, long legs with thick thighs and an ass he loved to grasp in his palms. She'd earned her degree in both business and psychology while in college, though she became a model due to being discovered shortly before her graduation.

She had been on nearly every famous magazine cover known in and outside of the US and even walked a few runways. Though her height was only 5'7, designers were mesmerized by her with every step she'd take.

The two of them reconnected at the 2022 Met Gala with plenty of hostility from her end which he understood. A civil conversation between them eventually took place and they renewed their friendship, though Jack knew he wanted her back. Simone wanted him back as well, but didn't want to come off so eager. Which she wasn't.

They'd gotten back together and things had been great the past three years. Until Stacey came along.

He'd met Stacey at an awards after party nearly five months ago and the two had been sneaking around ever since. She met her around the time that he and Simone had been bickering and having petty arguments back and forth. It didn't help that Simone had a male friend that she was close with who was also in the industry she was in. The guy rarely hid his desire for her or the fact he wanted her to be with him instead of Jack.

It pissed him off more when he would comment on every photo she would post or the photos he would take with her, alluding to there being something more between them. Sometimes he wondered if there was.

He looked over at Stacey's sleeping figure once more, shaking his head to himself. She wasn't even half of what Simone was and he began to think with his head up top instead of down below.

He needed to come clean with his woman and stop whatever he had with Stacey.

He flipped back the covers and got out of the bed to put his clothes on. As he dressed himself, Stacey turned over, her eyes fluttering open as she looked at him.

"Leaving so soon?" She asked in her sleepy voice.

"Honestly, I should've left sooner." He admitted honestly and grabbed his New Balance sneakers, "Look, I might as well go ahead and tell you now. This is the last time we're gonna see each other."

Stacey immediately sat up, covering herself with the comforter.

"What? Why? Did I do something wrong?" She asked him, concern laced in her tone.

"It's not you that did something wrong, it's me. I should've never started this...thing with you. I have a woman waiting for me at home that I love and I'm here with you. This should never have happened." He shook his head, slipping on his sneakers.

"Wait, Jack. Just wait. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that what you and me had is done. I'm going home to my woman and I'm telling her everything that's been happening."

Stacey scoffed and chuckled humorlessly, "And you really think it's that easy? You think she's gonna just welcome you with open arms? From what you've been telling me, she never has welcomed you with open arms."

"You know nothing about her or the history we have." He defended, "That woman knows me better than anybody else and look at what I'm doing to her. It took a while for me to get her back and this is how I treat her. I'm going back where I belong and you and me are done."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, leaning back against the headboard.

"Fine, do whatever. When she kicks you out of the house and breaks up with you, don't come crawling back to me."

"Believe me...I won't. Made the mistake of crawling to you once, a second time is not needed to remind me."

He grabbed his phone, keys and wallet and walked out of the bedroom towards the front door. He left, got into his car and immediately started the engine before pulling out of the driveway.

When he arrived back to Simone's house in the last night hour, he used his key and carefully the front door, quietly closing it behind him. He tiptoed through the spacious entryway, making sure not to make too much noise.

Suddenly, the lights in the living room came on and he looked to see Simone sitting on the large sectional with her arms crossed. If looks could kill, he would be a dead man.

"Studio session must've ran late, huh?" She questioned him, the look of anger swirling in her eyes.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck and walked closer towards her, "Yeah, about that...um, I wasn't at the studio."

"No, really? I had no idea." She expressed in fake shock, tilting her head.

"Cut the sarcasm, Monie."

"You don't get to tell me that. I don't wanna hear shit from you except her name. Who is she?" She badgered him.

He sighed and looked down at his feet.

"Her name is Stacey." He confessed.

"And how long have you been seeing her?"

The guilt began to sit in more and he sighed a second time.

"Five months." He mumbled.

Simone chuckled humorlessly, pinching the bridge of her nose and bit her bottom lip as she attempted to suppress her rage before directing her attention back to him.

"Five months? Five MONTHS?!" She exclaimed, standing up from the couch. "We're supposed to get married in six months and you've been sleeping around on me with some random bitch?!"

"I know, I know! I'm sorry! You and I were arguing so much back and forth and neither one of us wanted to listen to each other. I met her at an after party and she just-"

"Distracted you from the problems we had when you should've been talking to the main one you have the problems with?" She finished his sentence, crossing her arms.

"Baby, princess...I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did it, I really don't. I know I should've been thinking with my head up top and I should've talked to you first instead of letting her come between us. I don't want her. I even told her I'd come clean to you and I broke things off with her because I couldn't live with doing that to you."

"Clearly, you could live with it. You made it five months, what's a lifetime?"

She scoffed deeply and pushed past him, marching up the stairs to the bedroom. He was hot on her trails, following her upstairs and watched as she grabbed a suitcase from the walk-in closet.

"I know I fucked up, there's no excuse for it. I was wrong and I'll do whatever to make this right. Just please give me another chance." He begged her.

Simone remained quiet as she packed some clothes and other belongings into the suitcase.

"Come on, baby. Why are you packing a suitcase? Where are you going?" He asked, keeping his eyes onto her.

She chuckled humorlessly again and looked at him.

"I'm not going anywhere. See, I don't know if you forgot, but I paid for this house and I pay for the bills that go with it." She reminded him and pointed at the suitcase, "These are your things."

"Baby, please don't. I don't want her, I don't need her and I don't even love her! I love you!" He expressed desperately.

"You love me?! You love me, huh?! Is this how you treat somebody you love?! Sneaking around and fucking some other bitch behind my back?! Lying to me for months?! If that's your idea of "love", I don't fucking want it! Love should've brought your ass home to me instead of her for the past five months!" She raged, angrily zipping up the suitcase.

Tears filled both of their eyes as she took the suitcase off of the bed and placed it in front of him.

"That should be everything. Anything else, I'll have it sent to you."

"Princess, I don't want this. I don't want to be without you. I don't want anybody else, I want you. I want you forever. Let me know what I can do to make this right. I swear I'll do anything." He pleaded, cupping her cheeks into his palms.

"You know what you can do?" She caressed his cheek.

"I'll do anything. You name it."

All of a sudden, Simone reached back and slapped him as hard as she could. Jack stumbled back slightly and held his reddened cheek, looking at her sorrowfully.

"You can take the suitcase and get the fuck out of my house. I don't want to see you right now, if at all." She spoke calmly, her voice trembling in anger and betrayal.

"Princess..."

"Get out, Thomas. NOW." She demanded.

They always used each other's middle names whenever a situation at hand was not one to be taken lightly. It was also a way to show just how upset one or the other truly was by something that was done or said.

Knowing there was no changing her mind, Jack grabbed the suitcase and began walking out of the bedroom.

"Oh, I just remembered. You did forget something." She spoke up.

She reached for the seven carat engagement ring on her finger and threw it at him. It bounced off of his chest and he looked down at it, feeling more tears fill his eyes. He grabbed the ring off of the floor and looked at her as the tears fell down her face.

A burned memory that he'd never forget. He had no one to blame for it but himself. Usually, he'd be the one wiping her tears from someone else causing her harm. Now, the cause of her tears were on his hands.

Not another word was said as he held the suitcase in his hand and walked down the stairs and out of the door.

If she never wanted to see him again, he knew she would've been well within her rights. He did the one thing he promised he wouldn't do ever when they got back together.

He broke her heart and her trust.

[rubydubydoo122]

Jason gets de-aged because I've seen fics of Tim or Dick being de-aged, and Bruce losing his memory, but no one has realized the potential for angst if you de-age Jason.

When Jason woke up to the familiar ceiling of the batcave, feeling… whole. 

He remembered everything. 

He remembered dying, crawling out of his grave, and jumping out of the Lazarus Pit. He remembered the moment Talia showed him pictures of Tim as Robin, he remembered planting the bomb under the Batmobile. He remembered every single thing that happened in the past five years. 

And he remembered things from before. Things he had forgotten due to the blunt force head trauma. He had forgotten about the nights they would spend in the library after Jason had a nightmare. He had forgotten about the moments he had with Dick where they would team up against Bruce, like real brothers. He had forgotten about most of the good moments he had while living at the manor. At his home. And they were really good memories. 

He didn’t know whether to cry in relief or guilt or mourning, because that was just another thing to add to the list of things that the Joker took away from him. The memories of all the good things. 

He covered his face with his arm and he could tell by the size and weight of it that he was back to normal. 

Back to being the Red Hood. The real lone-wolf vigilante in Gotham because he had burned bridges with anyone who had cared about him. What a fucking asshole. 

“Jay, Lad, you’re awake.” He heard the squeak of the chair that they kept in the medbay, “How are you feeling?”

He didn’t lift his arm up to look at Bruce. Fuck, Jason had collapsed in front of his grave. He probably given Bruce an aneurysm. A week ago, he would’ve laughed, but now… he just felt guilty. “I'm sorry.” He meant that for a million different things. He’s sorry for trying to kill half of the family. He’s sorry for digging up Bruce’s trauma. He’s sorry for believing that Bruce didn’t love him. 

“Jason, I’m sorry—“

“Bruce. I know we have a lot to talk about, but can you give me, like… a couple minutes to sort out my brain?”

The chair squeaked again, but Bruce didn’t say anything. 

Jason sat up to look at Bruce, who was sitting in the chair, stunned. “Sorry, I just thought you would be… more upset.”

“I am upset.” Because even though he was lost in a tornado of emotions he could tell that upset was one of the major fronts. 

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like I cared about the younger version of you more than—“

“That’s not why I’m upset.” Maybe a week ago, but not really right now. “I’m more upset that all of you made the collective decision to keep my death from me.” He paused looking for the right words, “I— younger me really thought I made it. I thought I got to perform in the school musical, open acceptance letters, I thought I got to walk across the stage and move into a dorm.” He felt his eyes burn in shame as he looked down at his hands. The hands that were once stained in Tim’s blood. The hands that once held a gun aimed at Damian, “I thought I would’ve been a good older brother, and you all just let me believe that. And I get it,” he looked back up at the stalactites hanging from the ceiling, “telling 15 year old me that, despite everything, I still didn’t make it, it would’ve been hard, but it was worse to realize that I never really got those things.” He took a deep breath, “I’m not angry at you. Not anymore. And there’s more we need to talk about, but I think I’m going to need to sleep on some things before we do.”

Jason looked back at Bruce, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bruce this… vulnerable. “Yes. Ok. Yeah, take as much time as you need.” But Bruce took Jason’s hands in his, “Just- know that I’m proud of you. For all that you’ve been through, and all that you’ve overcome, you still have a good heart. You have always had a good heart.”

“I love you, Dad. And I see now how much you love me too.”

Jason found Dick in his room. He doesn’t know what possessed him to come to Dick first— he was planning on sitting in the library, bawling his eyes out, and then talk with Bruce about whatever he wanted to talk about. Yet here he was, standing in Dicks doorway, feeling like he was 13 again, wondering if Dicks “I’m always here to talk if you need to,” was real. 

Turns out, everyone in the manor, besides Bruce and Alfred, were already there. 

They were all curled up in some way against Dick. Damian under his right arm, Tim under his left. Cass was curled around Tim, but had her head resting on Dicks shoulder, and Duke was laying perpendicularly across Dicks legs, though he was clutching Zitka tightly in his arms. 

There was also part of him that felt kind of left out. Realizing how close everyone was except for him. And he knew that was his fault. He had burned the bridges before he could even try to cross them. Now all he could do was gaze at the city from across the river. 

No. 

He’s been building a new bridge. Getting closer and closer to the city. To this family. He wouldn’t mess it up again. Because the 12 year old kid who jacked the Batmobiles tires deserved a home. The 13 year old kid who had been in the middle of a custody tug of war deserved a family. The 15 year old who ran away from home desperate to find a mother deserves love. 

“Jason!” Dick shot up, effectively ruining the cuddle pile, and drawing attention to him lurking at the doorway. Though, he wouldn’t be surprised if Cass already knew he was there. 

There was a collective look of relief throughout the group, even from Damian. Of all people. 

He shoved the knot that was in his stomach down and opted for a laugh, “I have fought valiantly, and I have reclaimed puberty from the wicked witch of the west.”

He was almost knocked over by everyone coming in for a group hug. 

“You little lying bastard.” He felt Duke's hand swat the back of his head, “man, it took us a whole hour to figure out that none of us knew where you were. Dick was about to kick down your door when Bruce came up with the key.”

Of all the old memories that Jason had gotten back, Bruce had never intruded on Jason’s space without him wanting to. He didn’t even think he had a key. So why…

“And then, Bruce brought you back unconscious. We thought you were gonna die again, but then you magically poofed back into your giant ass self, and—“

“Breathe!” Because he knew Tim would keep rambling, “and I just woke up, give me a minute.” Because he was expecting just Dick to be in his room. Not everyone. And as much as he cares for the whole entourage, he doesn’t think he has the energy to.. stay strong for them. He just wanted his big brother. Dick was his big brother first. 

And thank god for Cass’s people reading skills, because she cupped Jason’s cheek and offered him a small smile, “Might be big again, but you’re our little brother.” She glanced to Dick, and then guided Tim, Duke and Damian out of the room, closing the door behind her. 

Jason suddenly felt like he was still 15. Like he hadn’t been changed back. Like he was transported back in time to before everything had become so messy. 

Dick studied his face,  “What’s wrong?” He patted the space next to him on his bed. Just like that time Jason had gone to Titans Tower after Bruce had said he wasn’t Jason’s father. 

He sat down next to Dick, and then scooted down, so that he could comfortably rest his head on his chest. He could feel his face twitch, holding back the knot in his stomach that had risen into his throat. 

How could he have forgotten how much Dick cared? Maybe he wasn’t around that much, but he cared . He cared so much . 

He felt his expression crumple and fall. How could he have forgotten how much Dick tried?

Dick rubbed little circles into his back, as Jason muffled his sons into his shirt. Just like he had done when Jason wasn’t able to help Gloria Stanson. A couple nights before he left for space. He didn’t ask, or push, just waited. 

“I- I remember everything . I used to only be able to remember the bad. Now I remember…all the good too.” He stared at the tree outside of the window they used to climb together, “I remember now that even though you weren’t here often, you were a good brother. You were a really good brother. And I feel like shit for thinking you’ve always hated me, because—“

“Jason, can I be honest with you?” Dick dabbed at the tears that had fallen from Jason’s face. “I kind of assumed. When you wouldn’t get an inside joke, or when I would bring up something, and you would just stare blankly. I never felt offended when you didn't know, just upset with myself that I didn’t make more time, because maybe then certain memories would stick.” He traced the scar on Jason’s temple, “and I think a lot about how you were the one who reminded me how to love freely.” 

Jason looked up to make eye contact with Dick, “I was wondering how you went from angry at Bruce and the world to adopting the kids Bruce adopted.”

Dick chuckled, “I passed the angry child mantle down to you too. It comes with the post-Robin era.” He continued to trace the scar, “but seriously. Bruce having the emotional competency of a turnip while I was growing up really affected the way I connected with people. Then you came along, this kid, who despite having nothing but the clothes on his back, still loved with his whole heart. You were a lot like my parents in that sense. You turned Robin into a legacy, and I couldn’t think of a better person to have done that.” 

Jason turned away, “Fuck you. You’re making me cry.” They stayed like that in silence for a bit. “I, uh, found my old phone. And I listened to a bunch of the voicemails.”

He felt Dick tense up for a moment, “Oh?”

“You were Batman? Like I knew you were Batman with Damian, but I didn’t realize you were also Batman with Tim.”

He felt Dick relax under him, “That was not the direction I expected you to take.”

“I’m prioritizing.”

“Yeah, I was. It was only for a couple months, but I hated every moment of it then. Alfred was in England, and Bruce was training to get his strength up. I guess the good part was Tim. That was when we really got close. I think that was when I actually started to see him as my little brother.” Dick paused, “Though, if you’re bringing this up as a Segway to why make Damian Robin if you and Tim already had the Batman/Robin thing in the past, I did it because I saw Tim as an equal when it came to vigilantism. The Batman and Robin dynamic wouldn’t work with us.”

“Yeah… that makes sense.” Jason paused, “you killed the Joker?”

“Yeah.” Dick rested his head on top of Jason’s, “and just so you know, Bruce also came close right after he killed you. Close to the point where Clark had to stop him.”

“I never really wanted Bruce to kill the Joker. I just wanted him to prove he cared. If he had given me a hug, I probably would’ve stopped everything. I gotta tell him that.” He sat up, “Bro, Bruce said he was proud of me. I think he’s still following that mission to keep me happy.”

Dick snorted, “How do you know about that?”

“I snooped.” He shrugged and put his head back on Dicks chest, “I think we should make one for how Bruce should take care of all of us. And then make one for Tim to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep per day.” 

“But, seriously, we probably do.” He felt Dick start to fiddle with one of the bat charms in his hair as they fell back into silence. “Talia?”

Jason didn’t say anything. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to, but I’m here if you want to talk about it.” Dick let out a breath, “You… listened to the voicemails, you know I… I won’t judge.”

Jason nodded and reached out to stroke Zitkas trunk, “I know I’m your… little brother, but you can talk to me too if you want to. It won’t change how I see you.”

Dick moved Zitka so she was closer to both of them, “yeah I know.”

Jason sighed, “I… I didn’t know how old I was until your birthday back in March. I simultaneously felt too old but too young. For everything.” 

“Yeah. Yeah. I get that.”

There was a long stretch of silence. It was the first time in a while that both of them had a heart to heart. It was the first time in a long time since they had an understanding between each other. 

“Is it bad? That I still see her as a mother?”

“Sheila?”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” because even after the betrayal, he still knew she did it because she didn’t really have any other choice, “but I was talking about Talia.”

“Oh.” He heard Dicks jaw click. 

“So yeah?”

“No, it's not that.” Dick gave it some thought. Choosing his words carefully, “I mean, she took care of you when no one else did, so it makes sense, but…every adult figure in your life has let you down in some way, and you deserve so much better than that.”

Jason thought about it for a minute. His papi had turned to a life of crime, his mami fell victim to heroin. Sheila had chosen her own life and reputation over Jason, and Talia kinda just… took Jason in to score points with Bruce.

Bruce… Bruce could never fully be his dad. Not anymore. Not with all the bad blood. Not when Batman would always be more important. “It’s, uh, I guess it’s too late now, but I’ll never regret the three years I spent calling this manor my home. They were probably the best years of my life.” He pressed at a vein on Dicks hand. “Alfred and Bruce were good for me, though. They just… didn’t expect me to come back, which is understandable, but that was when I needed them the most.” He pulled Zitka in close, “Sometimes, I wonder what things would’ve been like if Bruce had found me instead of Talia.”

“I wonder that all the time too.” Dick continued to rub circles into Jason’s back, “You know, you’ll always be my little brother. My first little sibling. No matter how far apart we grow from each other, or if you annoy the shit out of me, You’ll always have a home in my heart. I promise.”

Jason stayed quiet while he basked in the comfort of his older brother for a while. Soaking in the feeling, making up for the years lost without it. “I love you too.”

After Jason was done talking to Dick he went straight to the kitchen. For one, he was hungry, because magic sucks, and he also felt the need to do something. Specifically, bake a strawberry cake. Because of course he had forgotten about his tradition with Alfred. Even during his past Birthday he had spent in Gotham, he didn’t— he didn’t even celebrate at all. He remembered it was his birthday, he just didn’t know how many candles to put on the cake. 

Jason just wanted to do this with Alfred. Like old times. Of course, Alfred was still out getting the groceries, and it felt like he’d been out for years, but nonetheless, he was a grown man allowed in the kitchen. So he started getting out the ingredients for the cake. 

Except they did not have any strawberries. Which put a real stickler in Jason’s plan because the fresh strawberries were the best part. They added a burst of tartness with each bit and balanced out the sweetness of the buttercream. 

Just then Alfred came through the kitchen with a brown paper bag. He looked from Jason to the countertop that had a neat array of ingredients and then back to Jason with a smile. Alfred set down the bag and reached into it. “I suppose we had the same idea, my boy.” He pulled out two boxes of the fancy strawberries he always got. “You’re going to have to double the recipe.” Alfred pulled out two more boxes. 

“Alright, Alfred.” Jason smiled back, and exchanged the bowl he’d originally taken out for a bigger one. Even though Alfred was working on dinner and Jason was working on the cake, they fell back into their old rhythm. 

One by one his siblings started filing in. First Cass, who nabbed a strawberry. Then Damian, who Jason may or may not have discretely gotten flour on his face, making him look absolutely adorable. And while Jason was pouring the batter into the pan Duke, Tim, walked in, so he had given them the bowl and spoon to clean off. 

He got started on the buttercream, slowly adding the strawberry compote that he’d made before he’d made the batter, when a finger made its way into the bowl, and then swiped his nose. 

He swatted at Dick when he tried to get another dollop to taste, “Nope. Nuh uh. Getchur fingers away from my buttercream.”

“Come on! Duke and Tim got to lick the batter!”

“And I was going to give this spatula to you, but if you're being impatient, it’s going to Cass.” 

Dick huffed and rounded the counter, sitting on the chair next to Cass. 

Tim and Damian were bickering, and Duke was adding comments that seemed to be egging on both sides. The subtle agent of chaos. 

Jason took the cake out of the oven and put it on a rack to cool. He made his way back to Alfred, who had just put the stove on simmer, and held his hand, “Thank you, Alfred.” 

“Whatever for, my boy?”

Jason observed everyone in the room. Cass ruffling Tim’s hair, and Duke finally cracking. Dick wiping the flour off of Damian’s face while he huffed about not tolerating this childish behavior. Bruce leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen with a fond smile on his face. “Wishing for this. For Bruce to have people to live for. For wishing for me back.”

Alfred smiled and looked at Jason, “I always assumed it was you who made it happen. Using your magic to put everyone in a place to meet eventually before coming back to us yourself. And I am so so grateful that you did.”

And Jason knew Alfred meant it. Because it was Alfred. It was Alfred who loved them all so much that they were all just as much his kids as they were Bruce’s. Bruce might’ve built this family, but Alfred held it steady. 

Jason rested his head on Alfred’s shoulder. “You mean so much to me, Alfred.”

Alfred brought a hand up to cup Jason’s cheek, “However much I mean to you, I can assure you, you mean infinitely more to me.”

And Jason knew that. He picked his head up to look at Alfred, and gave him a smirk, “Does this mean I’m your favorite?”

Alfred raised his eyebrows, “I care for you all equally.”

Jason could feel himself grin from ear to ear, because yup. He was definitely Alfred’s favorite, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” 

He went back over to the cake and started frosting it, casting another look at everyone in the room. He made eye contact with Bruce and offered him a smile, and he returned it. 

If someone had asked Jason a week ago if he considered these people his family he probably would have shot them in the face. He’d been so afraid his entire life that the home he’d founded would never be permanent. He had thought in the past five years he had lost the love he had gained. He thought it had all died along with him. Except it hadn’t. It had grown so much bigger and was waiting to engulf him back into the fold. Jason was finally ready to walk back into it.

The door opened, and Stephanie Brown slid across the wood and used Bruce to stop her momentum, “Guess who’s ready to collect blackmail consisting of Sunshine–” She paused and caught sight of him, “Jason! You’re a giant again.” She huffed, “I was going to convince little you that I was your favorite.”

“Blondie, you scared little me.” He held up the piping bag with the strawberry compote, “Quick, what should I write on the cake.”

Steph walked over and punched his shoulder, “ I lived, Bitches! All caps. ‘X’s to dot the ‘I’s.”

“You do know your don’t dot capital ‘I’s right?” Jason looked over to Alfred for permission.

“Well, Master Jason, You did live. Let the bitches know.”

The whole room erupted into howls of laughter, as Jason grinned and piped the words onto the cake, “Hell yeah, I lived Bitches.”

[urfavslav]

dialogue is from the movie un homme qui dort, narrated in english by thee shelly duvall. I changed a few lines, bc they wouldn't fit him other wise. cw: if u squint you can see the dissociation mentions. character/kakucho centric piece

You stay in your room, not eating, not reading, hardly moving.

It's been eight days since the horrific battle between tenjiku and toman, kakucho hasn't moved since he got discharged from the hospital, currently lying on the floor watching the ceiling fan spin slowly with the breeze of his open window.

You watch the basin, the bookcase, your knees, your eyes in the cracked mirror. The cup. The light switch.

His eyes slowly drag around his small 'apartment' room until they catch on the small sink. The one that he would use after every major fight, cleaning his worse wounds and injuries.

They catch on the book case, filled with books he enjoyed and ones he traded with Izana, littered with little annotations and highlights. Scattered sheet music with small notes of wear and tear. Records and cd's he had collected over time.

His heterochromic eyes catch on his knees that wobble every so often, threatening to fall or slide down from their bent position as if he were doing sit-ups. The cracked mirror that sits above his sink, the one that you can barely call a sink, the mirror that has taken his rage and now seems to be staring back at him. One red eye and one ashen. Is he sure they belong to him?

The cup that was filled with tea, how old is it? Ran got him this for his birthday, he should probably drink that tea, lest it gets dusty or stale, alas it's already cold. right? The light switch he never uses; getting up at the crack of dawn to work out, spending most of the day with the gang, coming back when he's had his fill of sociability, ready to eat and lie down.

You listen to street sounds, to the dripping faucet on the landing, to the noises your neighbor makes, having a coughing fit, his kettle whistling.

The later in the day it gets he hears the noise increase in volume, cars trying to get home, kids getting off school, sirens, doors opening and closing, cats, life goes on. life goes on and all he can do is observe in his state.

You follow on the ceiling the winding line of a thin crack. A flies pointless wandering. The perhaps calculate progression of shadows.

Kakucho's drowsy lidded eyes follow the small crack on his wall, leading from the door frame to the ceiling, a mere 15 centimeters. His brain finding anything and everything else to focus on. The fly that wanders in, making a few circles in his room before buzzing away.

You are 14 years old. You have 32 teeth, 3 shirts and 8 socks. 77,000 yen a month to survive on. A few books you no longer read, a few records you no longer listen to. You don't want to remember anything else. You sit, and all you want is to wait. Just wait until there is nothing more to wait for.

He feels dissociated from himself, his beloved hobbies now seem distant and unattractive. Why does everything remind him of Izana? The music that sits, collecting dust on his shelf. The shirts they bought together, although a measly errand, he treasured moments like those.

You don't see your friends. You don't answer the door. You don't go down and get your mail. You don't return the books you borrowed from the library. You don't visit your parents.

He disregards the hundreds of missed calls from his friends. He ignores the knocks that come and slowly fade away when he fails to answer the door. He sees the envelopes that get stuck in the mail slot. He knows his books are overdue, the pile mocking him near the door. He misses visiting his parents. He misses living.

★ all works belong to @urfavslav , do not repost on anywhere else with or without credit, do not plagiarise. thank you !

[ashleigghh]

Day 31- midnight, jegulus... I went a bit overboard with this one... 2051 words. IN MY DEFENCE IT'S THE FINAL ONE AND IF YOU READ MY AO3 NOTE YOU'LL SEE WHY

Regulus wasn’t a very social person, he didn’t like interacting with others, he didn’t like the overwhelming chaos that came with trying to follow 15 people talking and he especially despises trying his hardest to fit in with the people around him and still feeling like a total outcast. 

Despite this, he had foolishly allowed himself to be dragged to James Potter’s New Year's Eve party by his friends. This had been an awful, awful decision and he had regretted it the second he walked through the door. 

The music was too loud, pounding around his head like it was beating his brain from the inside, the smell of alcohol was overwhelming and the crowds of people pushing on him from every side made him feel violently ill, he had wanted to turn around and walk right back out the front door, but Barty and Dorcas had taken an arm each and dragged him to a table overflowing with all sorts of drinks and handed him a concoction he wasn’t sure was safe to drink. 

This was fine, okay, he could manage a couple hours here as long as his friends stuck by him, the dull numbness of the alcohol making it bearable to be in this room. He was promptly abandoned by said friends and he was trying desperately hard not to be mad at them about it. 

Dorcas was across the room talking animatedly to her girlfriend and a few mutual friends that Regulus could’ve gone over to but didn’t want to intrude, he would’ve felt out of place and he didn’t want to ruin their night. Pandora was dancing peculiarly with her boyfriend in the middle of an open area that had been turned into a makeshift dancefloor and Evan and Barty were making out on a sofa so intimately that Regulus wished they would just find a room already.

Regulus stood on his own, nursing the cup of a disgusting amount of mixed drinks and trying his hardest not to scream and punch the next person who stumbled into him in the face. 

He spoke to a few people here and there, catching up with someone he hadn’t seen in a while, exchanging pleasantries and laughing about something from their time at school, it had only been a year and a half since they left Hogwarts but it felt like a decade had passed already. 

This hadn’t even been a possibility for the past hour? 3 hours? Regulus had lost track of time, everything seemed to be dragging out, torturing him. He was beginning to wonder if he had died and if this was his personal hell. Anyway, the point is he hadn’t even had anyone to talk to because everyone had become so intoxicated it was a slurring, mumbling mess that Regulus couldn’t even try to have a conversation with because they were so out of it. 

He had finally managed to escape, hiding in an annexe in the spacious library of Potter Manor. The room was Regulus’ favourite, he had come in here for the first time when he was 16 years old and first ran away from home, trying to find a place where he wouldn’t be bothered by his brother or James. 

The library had been his safe haven. Tall shelves lined the walls and created aisles across the room, what must have been thousands of books towering over his head. The ceiling was a mural, delicate drawings that must have taken months to paint, angels stretching out above him reaching for the stars. There were large windows that went from the floor to the ceiling, looking out over the extensive grounds, a fountain with a statue in its centre lining up in the middle of the gravel directly outside 

Inside there were several annexes, like the one Regulus was holed up in now, hidden in the shelves, a comfortable curved seat and a string of warm lights creating a little space to curl up with a book and disappear for a while. Regulus had used it to hide then and used it to hide now. 

He had, however, never been very good at hiding from James Potter. James had a unique knack of finding Regulus no matter where he went or how hidden he seemed to be, it didn’t matter if he was in the darkest, most remote corner of the world, James would be able to find him. 

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise to Regulus when he heard the heavy wooden doors to the library creak open and a set of footsteps start walking immediately to the annexe he was hidden in. 

“Found you,” James whispered teasingly, ducking into the annexe, sitting on the other end of the deep green sofa, his body turned to face Regulus with his feet on the seat between them, knees pulled up to his chest and his head resting on top. 

“I don’t think the host is supposed to disappear from the party,” Regulus looks up from his book momentarily, raising an eyebrow as he looks at James, trying to work out why he’s up here with him instead of down enjoying the night with people that are more fun. James shrugs and Regulus can see the cogs turning in his head as he tries to think of an excuse.

“It’s the host’s job to make sure everybody is having a good time,” Regulus closes his eyes at James’ response, ignoring the twinge in his chest as the words settle around his heart. 

“I’m not your responsibility, go back to the party,” he doesn’t want to ruin this for James. Regulus doesn’t want to be a burden causing James to abandon his own party to come and sit with him in a quiet corner of the house when he hosted this party to enjoy himself. 

“No, you’re not, but I prefer hanging out with you anyway,” James responds without a second thought, looking at Regulus with that stupid grin on his face. 

“Yeah sure,” Regulus scoffs, turning the page on his book but trying to sneak a glance at James’ expression out of the corner of his eye. James frowns slightly, not liking the fact that Regulus doesn’t believe him and shuffles forward slightly. 

“I do, why would I not?” James asks like it isn’t obvious, and it’s so oblivious and innocent that it makes Regulus laugh.

“You hosted this busy, loud party that I got dragged to and then ran away from to hide in your library and read a book, there’s a big difference in how we like to spend our time,” 

“Well, yeah, the party’s fun and all and I like making it so people can have fun but I still prefer you over all of them,” James says like his words have no effect on those around him like he can say these things and people won’t be affected by the meaning behind his words. 

“You don’t have to come up here and try to make me feel better, it only makes me feel worse.” Regulus really just wants James to go, he’s probably drunk and doesn’t really know what he’s saying and this is only going to hurt.

“Why won’t you believe me?” James exclaims, waving his arms out to the side in frustration and Regulus gulps harshly, he’s managed to piss James off already and it’s only been a few minutes. He doesn’t know why he’s like this, he can’t help it, there is just something fundamentally wrong with him that causes him to always say and do the wrong thing. 

“Sorry,” James whispers into the now awkward silence between them, his arms tucked into his chest tightly as if he’s keeping them as far away as possible. “I’m not mad at you I just don’t understand,” 

“It’s okay,” Regulus closes his book, feeling like the moment calls for it and places it on the side table. “I don’t understand either,” 

“I want you to believe me, Reg, but I don’t know how to make that happen,” Regulus turns to face James, mirroring his position on the sofa, shrugging at James as he tries to find the words. 

“I don’t think you can,” Regulus wonders if James can hear his heart shattering as he utters the words into the quiet, the noise seeming to echo in the open room, taunting him as it repeats back to him over and over. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” James smiles, trying to lighten the mood, but his smile isn’t as bright as it usually is and Regulus is hit with another wave of guilt.

“You don’t have to do that,” Regulus goes to protest more but James cuts him off,

“I want to, and I’ll keep telling you I want to until you believe me, and even then I’ll still repeat it to make sure you never doubt it,” And the worst part is, Regulus wants to believe him, he really does but theres something that makes it impossible, 

“You don’t know me, If you did you wouldn’t be saying any of this,” James scoffs and shoots Regulus an incredulous look, 

“Reg, I know you,” 

“You don’t-” Regulus is cut off again and he would be offended if the words coming out of James’ mouth weren’t so eye-opening 

“Yes, I do,” James starts rambling, looking Regulus right in the eye, barely even blinking to try and show Regulus that he’s telling the truth. “I know you Regulus. I know you always read the last page of a book before you start it, I know you secretly love it when your friends throw their arms over your shoulders, I know your favourite chocolates are the same as Dorcas' so you pretend not to like them, so, she has them. I know you let Pandora think she's gotten away with stealing your jumpers without you noticing, I know you secretly want people to call you baby black because it makes you feel closer to Sirius. I know you love it when your book group wants to gossip instead of talk about the book. I know you Regulus, from how you take your coffee in the morning to your biggest hopes for the future, and I love you” 

James takes a deep breath, letting his words hang between them, giving Regulus the chance to process and really take in what he said. Regulus blinks back the tears in his eyes and tries to keep his voice steady as he responds.

“Okay,” He breaths out shakily, failing to hide his tears from James, who leans forward and wipes them away by brushing his thumb gently over Regulus’ cheek, “Okay, I believe you,” 

James beams and it's back to the bright, blinding smile Regulus is used to, the one that lights up a room and really shows just how happy James is. Regulus can’t help but smile back softly despite the tears still escaping his eyes. 

“You believe me?” James checks and he laughs in a way that feels like liquid joy pouring over the two of them when Regulus nods to confirm. 

“You love me?” Regulus questions, wanting to clarify if James meant it the way Regulus took it, being prepared to smile through the agony of James saying he loves him the same way he loves everyone he’s close to, 

“I do,” James answers like they’re getting married like he’s telling the world he wants Regulus to be his forever. To James, he is telling his world that he wants to be with him forever. “Do you believe me?” 

“I do,” Regulus responds, trying to express the same emotion but unable to force the words out, they stick in his throat like sickening syrup, clogging his airway and choking him. He loves James, but he can’t tell him that, he doesn’t know how to. 

“Can I kiss you?” James asks, his gaze darting from Regulus’ eyes to his lips, his gaze lingering as he watches Regulus’ mouth move to respond, 

“Please,” James kisses him the second he’s sure of the confirmation that that's what Regulus wants too, crashing their lips together as the windows light up in an array of colourful explosions.

Regulus has never really liked the saying ‘new year, new me’ but as the clock hits midnight, and the fireworks explode in an array of sparkling light, James Potter kisses him, and he finally understands what they mean and how much a person can change in the span on one kiss.

[flyingmintbunny0]

Back by popular demand- What if More Archivist!Martin AU!!

Here's how the Hill Top Road roommates were born!

(If you can spot all the spiders in each panel, you have sharp eyes)

Get your context below the cut~

Ok, first off, I adore all the tags in my first post about this AU, they make my whole day!!! I'm so glad people latched onto the silly roommates especially, so I figured I'd show how Martin found them!

~~~~~

Story (A bit of a prologue setting up The Web if you will):

CW: Spiders (but they are cute, I promise)

Martin was always a very isolated kid, he never made many connections with other people besides his mother. So when he came out to her after he'd turned 15, he had nowhere to go when she kicked him out of the house until he "came to his senses".

He wandered the streets, waiting until enough time had reasonably passed so he could go home and apologize to her. In the meantime, he found himself sitting on a park bench staring up at the swaying leaves on a nearby tree.

Then, he felt something crawling up his arm. And another something was creeping up his other hand. Looking down, there were two tiny spiders clinging to Martin, as if they were afraid he would throw them off. Which was ridiculous of course. Martin had always had a soft spot for little creatures and cooed to them softly.

"Hello little ones, where did you come from?" He giggled for the first time in... he can't remember how long, as the little critters waved their front legs in the air towards him. Martin wanted to believe they were trying to say Hi back.

Martin spent the afternoon distracting himself by watching the spiders roam around, crawling from hand to hand like an endless spider treadmill. They spun fragile webs between his fingers and Martin thought they were beautiful.

The sun set, but the two little spiders didn't seem keen to leave him, so Martin decided to bring them home with him. On the walk back, he came up with names that seemed suitable for each of them. If they were going to stick around, they deserved to be properly addressed. He thought about his favorite subject in school for ideas. They had just finished up a poetry unit and he was captivated by a few poets in particular. He looked down at the spider on his shoulder that had climbed up on him first.

"You seem like an Oscar Wilde type," Martin gently poked at the spider. The newly appointed Oscar looked offended, like it could give a sarcastic retort if it was capable of human speech.

"As for you..." Martin paused at the second one. It was sitting in a fold of Martin's sleeve, but poked its head out nervously at Martin's attention. "I'm going to call you John."

John Keats wasn't an especially inspired choice, Martin thought. But he was his favorite author at the moment. Something about his sappy verses drew Martin in like a moth to a flame, or a fly to a web.

~~~~~

Later, after Martin had settled into a long-term position at the Magnus Institute, London, his mother decided she wanted to be rid of him for real this time. She asked him to set her up in a proper care home, and left him alone in their apartment. Martin was neither financially nor emotionally stable enough to stay in the lonely apartment, so he left as soon as possible with his few belongings in tow.

Annabelle Cane found him. Martin didn't understand how or why for a long time. But he eventually assumed it had to be connected to his spider friends somehow. At least she was friendly enough.

Annabelle led him back to her house on Hill Top Road. And sure, he wasn't expecting to live in a house filled with roommates that kept worms and moldy food(?) in the fridge, or a barrel drum full of wax in the basement, or an attic coated from floor to ceiling in cobwebs. But where else could he go? It's not like he could live in the library at work.

Yeah, his new roommates were weird, but he soon realized that he liked them. They were rough around the edges, but he figured out ways to be helpful, to smooth them out. He painstakingly experimented to find out their preferred choice of tea, and even convinced them to join him for movie nights every weekend.

And everything was going well! Martin was enjoying his work in the library, and he actually felt stable for once in his life.

That is, until Elias Bouchard called Martin into his office one day...

~~~~~

OK I didn't mean to write a whole fic for this picture, but I couldn't stop myself pffff

All of the spider talk is 100% @lelouchootori 's fault btw ;v; I just thought it would be cute if the lil spiders I was adding to Martin's hair had lore, and they said that the spiders should have names, so it really spiraled.

Another tidbit! After meeting Annabelle, Martin realizes that she can communicate with the spiders Oscar and John. This causes him to talk to them a lot more (even if he can't understand them), especially in his Archivist office. I have a very specific scene in mind to make this a full-on office comedy:

Martin: What do you think about this creepy statement, John?

Jon (passing by his office door): What? What did you say?

Martin: Oh, sorry, I wasn't talking to you Jon.

Jon: ???

[crabbunch]

For the ficlet thingy, 15. Dearest ache

15- dearest // ache

There is a ravager behind him. There's also a ravager in front of him- Etho sucks in a quick breath and sprints a little faster. The hallway is too small to squeeze past either ravager, but he does have a rusty repair kit, and the ladder to the library is in sight. He can wait down there for the ravagers to forget about him and then sneak back out once they've wandered off.

Etho jumps onto the ladder, but just as he's about to start descending, the ravager who was chasing him manages to clip his arm with a tusk. He yelps, and tumbles the rest of the way down the ladder- his com falls out of his hand and bounces onto the floor beside the ladder.

He lands hard, knocking the air out of himself and probably breaking some ribs, if the shooting pain running through them every time he breathes in is any indication. Etho just lays there for a while, listening to his cards run out and his stumbles build up until his clank and hazard are both at max.

The artifact wasn't that good, anyways; it was just 30 embers. He still has three keys left. He's not terribly disappointed by the failure. He lays on the ground and tries to breathe as shallowly as he can and waits for a ravager or a vex to find him and finish him off so that he can respawn.

...except they can't get in here. The library is a safe place. Etho turns his head slightly to look at Rusty. He can't die in here. If he wants to die, he's going to need to get out.

He's not sure he can do that.

He can't just message Tango, either, because Tango's not even online, and he doesn't have his com.

Etho only has one berry left- no where close to enough to heal with. He sits up, gritting his teeth and ignoring the ache that only deepens in his ribs. He just needs to climb up the ladder and let something maul him and then he can go home, or maybe just run the dungeon again.

He can barely sit up, though. Etho breathes in shallow gasps, but it doesn't do much to lessen the pain.

He's stuck. He's stuck in a safe place, and that means that nothing can kill him, and he's stuck. None of the other hermits were even online, last time he checked- they won't know to come looking for him.

Etho keeps his breathing even, and listens to the distant rumbling of ravagers. His ribs ache so badly.

He can do this, though. He just has to get to his feet and then take a step and then maybe another step and then one more step and he'll be at the ladder and then he only has to climb up 25 rungs until he'll be at the top where he can lie down again and wait for some ravager to hear his pathetic gasping and finally finish him off.

So it's basically impossible.

S-stumble! the dungeon stutters. Etho didn't know it could do that. He pats the floor next to him reassuringly, and then slumps back to the ground, trying not to inhale too sharply when the movement jostles him.

Ssssstumble! the dungeon says, sooner than it should, probably. Etho blinks at the ceiling. Either the dungeon is broken or he's spacing out- he sort of hopes it the second. If it is, he might just die of like, a punctured lung or something. That'd be nice.

S-sss-sss-sss- the dungeon says again. Darn. Just broken, then. He'll be waiting here for ages until someone notices he's missing.

Eeet-ho? the dungeon says. Maybe. He might just actually be hallucinating. That's a little worrying.

Etho? the dungeon says again. Concerning. Etho blinks at the ceiling. His ribs ache.

Etho! the dungeon says.

"Huuhhh," Etho says. "Weird. Is this actually happening?"

Yes! says the dungeon. Yes!

"Cool," Etho slurs. "Hey... why?"

Worried... the dungeon says.

"Yeah, I get... wait, no I don't. Aren't you supposed to kill people? For fun?" Etho blinks.

Kill. the dungeon says. Not this.

"Oh yeah," says Etho. "Cool. Could you- get something down here to do that?"

Can't, the dungeon says with a distinctly mournful note.

"Oh, that's okay," Etho says. "Thanks anyways."

Okay? the dungeon asks. Be okay?

"I'll get there," Etho says. "Just... gotta respawn. Someone will notice I'm in here eventually."

Help? the dungeon asks.

"I don't know how," Etho admits. "I'm just- waiting. Wait with me?"

Yesss, the dungeon agrees. Wait with you.

"Thanks," Etho says. "Yeah... let Tango know I'm here when he gets online? I'm gonna... nap..."

Okay, says the dungeon. Wait with you. Bring Tango.

"Great," Etho says, blinking his eyes shut. Man, but his ribs ache. Maybe he'll be dead by the time he wakes up. Hopefully.

Sleep, dearest champion, the dungeon says, almost tenderly.

"Whazzat?" Etho asks, squinting his eyes open to stare at the ceiling, but the dungeon has gone silent again accept for the occasional distant jingle of treasure and screech of vex. "Okay. Whatever." He passes out.

[beeeinyourbonnet]

By Hook or by Crook | Chapter 15

Pairing: Rumbelle

Rating: E, eventually

Summary: Just when Belle thinks she’s doomed to a life without adventure, an investment banking firm all the way from New York City plops its new headquarters in Storybrooke’s abandoned cannery.

From the beginning on ao3

——————————–

Moe French loved his glass koi, and even though he had a hard time relating to his daughter, Belle loved the small hydroponic gardening kit he got her. She didn’t cook much since she lived alone, but maybe she would cook more if she had her very own kitchen herb garden.

Mary Margaret had given her the blanket she’d knitted for her as well as the book Belle had specifically requested, and David gave her a headlamp for reading in the library. Unfortunately, the day after Christmas, Keith Nottingham did drop a gift off for her, but it was just a generic basket of lotions, and she could deal with that.

Belle kept the store closed between Christmas and New Year’s with Tim’s garbled blessing over the phone, but David drove her there every other day to check on Jaq and Gus. As much as she wanted to invite Mr. Gold to ring in the new year with her, she knew the best she could do was catch him as unaware as she had on Christmas Eve and ask him if he wanted to play chess, which she did manage to do once. They were currently tied two-to-two for wins. 

So she rang in the new year with everyone at Granny’s like she did every year, kissing her dad on the cheek at midnight, and then went home to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about how Mary Margaret was going to have a baby in two days.

Fortunately, the due date in question was a Friday, and while she had skipped the last Friday in Mr. Gold’s office because he closed it for the employees, she didn’t want to skip it today. David dropped her off at 11:30 so she could check on the hamsters, and then she trudged through the snow to the empty Gold and Associates building.

Read on ao3