#And next tri I will instead do three online hours. Unless I can find an elective for one of them

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 45

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The scream rang through the frigate. Northern ran down the hall and burst into Fen's room where she found her sitting up panting, covered in sweat.

"What is it? What happened?"

"T-The Nanites. They spoke to me." Fen tried to control her breathing, taking huge breaths and holding them for a moment, releasing them through her nose. "They said they're not going to devour our dimension, but they need to Gates to help search for a different one to devour."

"Devour?"

"They are a distributed intelligence inside the Nanites. They consume everything to make more of themselves. They said their own dimension was not like ours - fewer stars and planets - and they found a white hole to power themselves and the Gates, but now they need more energy." Fen continued to try and control her breathing, but she started panting instead. "Northern" she gasped.

Northern grabbed Fen and hugged her tightly. As she held her, Fen's breathing slowly recovered and tears started flowing down her cheeks. "What are we going to do?"

"The first thing we're going to do-" As she stood, Fen thought for a moment that Northern seemed taller. She exuded confidence that made Fen feel like she could fix things. "-is get out of here. No way we can stay here Helen and the Empire. The second thing we're going to do is go find Gord."

"But we don't know where he is."

"I've got an idea." Northern flashed a grin and winked as she strode out of the room. Fen sighed and flopped back onto the bed.

"Stormy! If you're not connected up to the ship, it's time. We're going.

"Going where, Northern?" Stormy's voice came from the PA.

"Tell you when we're out of here. Are we still on the Dreadnought's umbilical?" Northern sat in the center seat on the Command deck. Her fingers danced over the panels built into the arms of the chair. All over the ship, there were sounds of activity as the reactor came back online and other systems started to spin up.

"We are. I'm spoofing their sensors right now, so long as you keep the running lights off they won't know we're running hot until they come up to the airlock."

"Ideally, I want to be gone before they even know we left. What time is it on the ship?"

"Hour or so before lunch."

"Shit. That means Helen will probably be coming by soon."

"Speak of the devil-" Stormy took over one of the large screens on the command deck, and changed the view to an external camera. Helen Raaden was entering the hangar right then, flanked by a brace of guards, all armed with rifles. "Odd she should come armed like that on her own ship, isn't it?"

"Not if she wasn't going to let our friend have any chance of making her own decision." Northern tapped more on her pads, and the whining whirr of the slug thrower spinning out was heard. On the screen, Northern watched them all stop moving suddenly and the guards raise their rifles as they surrounded Helen.

"After careful consideration, we have decided to reject your offer, 'Admiral' Helen Raaden." Stormy said over the PA. "We are leaving."

Helen's eyes could melt a ship's hull. She started shouting at the guards and three of them peeled off and ran back the way they came while some of them opened fire on Stormy. The rounds plinking off the hull sounded like hail.

"Northern! They're bringing in the big guns. Unless we do something we're holed." Stormy's camera flicked, and Northern saw a large slug thrower unfolding from the ceiling of the hangar and swung towards them, it's double barrel staring at them menacingly.

"Shit shit shit!" Northern got up from her seat and ran over to a station in front of her. She reached deep underneath the workstation and manipulated a lever. A hooting, brassy alarm started up all over the ship and a binnacle rose out of the floor in front of the commander's seat. She ran back and as she sat, pedals unfolded and her seat belted her in tightly. "Stormy! You concentrate on countermeasures, I'm going to fly us out."

"You're putting me on manual? I knew you were odd Northern Lights, but I had no idea you took complete leave of your senses!"

"You worry about those slug throwers, Stormy Days, I'll worry about getting us out of the hangar in once piece." Northern grasped the two control sticks that stuck out from near the top of the binnacle and placed her feet on the pedals. With a twist of thrusters, Stormy lifted off the deck and started to slide slowly, wobbling slightly.

As she did so, nobody noticed Helen, but the cameras recorded it. As she stood there, shouting and ordering people around, the dust and debris in the hangar swirled around moving towards her. While she stood there, it formed up behind her making a set of gossamer wings that began to glow slightly.

Fen sat up sharply. She started to move awkwardly, in fits and starts, as if her limbs weren't entirely her own to control.

We tried to talk you into this Fen. We gave you every opportunity to go along with it. We would have given you anything you wanted, let you rule however you sought fit. But, you leave us no choice. You are Empress and you will rule.

"N-No." Fen's voice sounded weak, blurry. "S-stop. I don't want to do this."

The time for bargaining has long passed.

As the thrusters kicked in, Fen wobbled. Ship's gravity took over, and things were smooth quickly enough, but the Nanites noticed the change.

Too soon! We have to leave now.

Fen broke into a stiff legged run, and took off towards the airlock.

Back on the command deck, Northern struggled to control the ship while Stormy handled point defense. It seemed like for every gun they shot at, two more appeared. "Northern this isn't working. I'm going to try and blow a hole and get us out of here!"

"You're welcome to give it a shot Stormy, I'm out of ideas."

"Uh, Northern?" Zhe's head lifted from the console she was sitting at. "What about the wormhole generator?"

"What about it, Zhe? Is that broken now too?"

"No, but why don't we use it?"

"Inside the hangar? That's madness!"

"Why?"

"Because it would severely damage the-" Northern stopped and listened to what she was saying. "It would damage Helen's ship and help prevent them from chasing after us! Zhe, you're brilliant! Stormy, compute a link out of here. Doesn't matter where, we can link again once we're safe."

"On it Northern. Computing solution now."

Fen's body reached the airlock. As the ship was maneuvering, it was locked. Shaking, her hand went up to the unlock pad and she leaned in, using her shoulder to push hard on the pad. After a moment, the light turned green and both doors snapped open.

The noise was intense. The thrusters were loud enough on their own, but that combined with the chatter of the guns and the movement of the air and shouts from the crew made hearing anything impossible. Bending her knees down low to build energy, Fen sprang out of the airlock.

"Northern! I have a solution. Just let me know when to link."

"Do it now, Stormy!"

"Linking away in 3... 2..." Stormy gasped. "Northern! The ventral airlock! It's-"

As the wormhole opened and surrounded Stormy Days, the ship wasn't the only thing that linked away. The air, dust, floor of the hangar, some of the side plates also linked away. Everyone in the hanger was dazzled by the wormhole, and then deafened as the air stolen by Stormy Days rushed back in.

Everyone was knocked over by the force except Helen. If anyone was watching, they would have seen something like her wings swing in front of her to direct the force around her. As air rushed into the hangar to replace what Stormy had taken, sound returned to the large room. There were sirens and klaxons and other alarms sounding all at once.

Helen clicked her comm. "Silence those alarms. We know where the damage is. Get fire teams down to the hangar and run diagnostics on the reactors. I know they're under us. I need Medical too, we have injured. Bring stretchers."

"Yes, Admiral!" The voice on the other end was cool and professional. Helen nodded to herself. She tried to make sure she surrounded herself with cool and professional people. Ignoring her guards who were coming back to consciousness slowly, she strode over to the body laying on the floor near the crater left by Stormy's departure. She kneeled down. "Fen."

Fen's body rustled and she moaned and tried to push herself upright.

"Don't move Fen. I'm getting medical down here. We'll make sure you're all right."

"W-wha-"

"Shhhhh, shhhh." Helen stroked Fen's hair. It even felt like Melody's. She smiled to herself. Everything was coming together. Soon enough, they would be back on track. "We're going to make sure you're not injured, but the Nanites should have taken the majority of the impact for you. You'll be good as new in a few days, Empress."

[astral-catastrophe]

I am going to make poor decisions in regards to my class schedule

[hookingminor]

4 times his friends posted you on their instagram + 1 time he did - mat barzal

a/n: I wrote this literally back in july so lets just ignore how idealistic this is regarding quarantine but im a slut for some barzy this is all fluff

word count: 4,733

summary: like the title says, some friends (with benefits?) to lovers + a tyson cameo, fluffy summer quarantine fic

tagging @davidpastrsnack​ so kate can get on the barzy train

-

1.

To say the whole quarantine thing was an inconvenience was an understatement. School had ended online, your summer internship was cancelled, and it seemed like your summer would turn into an uneventful couple of months stuck in your apartment in, probably, the worst place to be stuck in during a pandemic: New York City.

Or so you thought.

You’d planned on having the most boring summer ever until your friend, Mat, had invited you to hole up away with him and a few friends in a lake house back in Vancouver. Well, friend was a loose term. The two of you were friends… just ones that kissed occasionally… and sometimes more than kissed. You’d met him about a year ago at a bar while he was out with his teammates after a game. A cliche meeting, but you hit it off instantly. Instead of ending up in his bed at the end of the night (which you would eventually end up at after a couple months), it turned into an exchange of numbers and an invitation to hang out later in the week.

You hadn’t thought anything of it at first, just thinking he was being friendly and wanting to end the conversation, so you were surprised to get a text the next day from an unknown number asking if you’d wanted to go on a bike ride.

Flashforward a year later and the two of you still went on bike rides together. At least, up until the pandemic started.

When the text came telling you to pack your bags for a month or so, you thought he was joking. Surely he couldn’t have meant you to join him in Vancouver over the summer? You were proven wrong when he showed up at your apartment the next day, two coffees in his hand.

“Uh, hi, Mathew,” you said hesitantly, opening your door to reveal your disheveled state, having just woken up.

“Why are you dressed like that? We have a plane to catch in four hours,” he said, pushing himself through your door, uninvited, to set the coffees on the counter.

“What are you doing here? What plane? You’re not supposed to be going out,” you reprimanded him for showing up unannounced and in the middle of quarantine.

“I told you we’re going to Vancouver, I know you read my text. Now let’s hurry up and pack, we gotta get going,” Mat rushed, already on the way to your bedroom.

You followed him after a brief moment once you’d processed what was going on. Mat had already pulled out your suitcase and set it on top of your bed by the time you entered the door. He was in the middle of rifling through your drawers and grabbing random garments to throw into the suitcase when you’d spoken again.

“You’re actually serious about this?”

“Of course I am. What better things do you have to do in a city on lockdown for an entire summer? Honestly, I’m doing you a favor,” he explained easily, turning back to grab more items.

“Oh, you’re doing me a favor? Thank you, Mat, for saving me from a summer of suffering. It’s not like I had other plans to find different internships or focus on my summer classes,” you replied sarcastically.

Mat rolled his eyes. “I am doing you a favor, and you’re doing me a favor by going. I need a hot piece of ass to get me through this, or I will lose my mind.” You slugged him on the shoulder in offense, but all he did was chuckle.

“And anyways, you can still do your classes in Vancouver. Instead of doing them locked in this apartment, you can do them lounged out under the Canadian sun. Preferably in a bikini,” he finished. You slugged his arm again, harder this time.

“In fact, you should take the red bikini, it makes your tits look amazing,” he said, noticing you shuffling through your swimsuits. You rolled your eyes at him but grabbed the red one anyway along with a couple others.

With both of you folding and packing, your bags were ready to go in record time.

“Alright, baby, let’s go.” And so you were off.

A week had gone by in total bliss. As much as you hated to admit it, Mat was right. Vacationing in Vancouver in a secluded lake house was a lot better than being alone in your apartment, even if you did still have classes to do. Mat teased you about it, but he always left you alone for a few hours in the day for you to focus on your work. Unless he really wanted something… like right now.

Mat had joined you laying on the couch while you were in the middle of annotating a book for class. He wiggled his way between your arms, causing you to break your hold on your book. He rested his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your middle, and nuzzled his face into your neck. Joining your hands back to your book and bringing your highlighter to the page, you continued to underline phrases you’d come back to later. A couple minutes passed in silence before Mat started sighing. And then he sighed again.

“What do you want?” you huffed out, closing your book with the pen marking your page.

“Let’s go swimming,” he said, pushing up to his elbows to look at your face.

“I have to finish, like, three more chapters today,” you explained.

“You can do that later. I want to go swimming now,” Mat whined.

“You know you sound like a petulant child right now, right?” you asked, moving a hand to his head, pushing his hair back as he pouted.

“Stop using big words on me. Let’s swim,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You paused to think about it for a moment, “Hmm… okay, I guess,” you said with a smile. Mat returned your smile with one of his own before hopping up to drag you to your room to change. It didn’t take much to convince you to swim. It was a really nice day out, and you didn’t really care to finish reading about 17th century philosophy.

You changed into your red bikini, Mat swapped his shorts for a pair of swim trunks, and threw on a backwards baseball cap. You went out back to join the rest of his friend group, who were in the process of loading up the boat with supplies and equipment.

“Oh, look, if it isn’t Brainiac and the Beast. Are you two finally going to go boating with us?” Tyson shouted from the dock. You rolled your eyes at his nickname they created for you and Mat. It had only been a week in Vancouver, but the chirps about you and school were tired by now.

“Princess here wants to swim in the pool, maybe next time!” you shouted back, pointing to Mat.

They laughed at your response, turning their attention back to the boat and running supplies to and from the house. You turned your attention back to Mat, who was taking off his hat and was about two seconds away from jumping in the pool.

“Mathew, stop!” you yelled out, “Get your ass over here!”

“What is it?” he asked, stopping just short of the deep end. He grumbled before marching over to you.

“You need to put sunscreen on first, dumbass,” you reprimanded. As you turned your back to grab the bottle of sunscreen, he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Mat,” you said sharply, turning back to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

You ignored him, opening the cap and squeezing lotion onto your hands. You gestured him to turn around, and you spread the lotion over it, making sure to rub it into his shoulders.

“I don’t see why I have to put sunscreen on. It’s not even that hot outside,” he muttered.

“First of all, you’re a dumbass. Second of all, heat doesn’t automatically mean the UV rays aren’t strong. And lastly, you’re white, baby, you’ll burn like a sun-dried tomato and being in water only increases the amount of sun you’re exposed to,” you explained, reaching up to rub some on his face.

“Sorry, Miss Meteorologist,” he grumbled, clearly not happy he’d lost this argument.

“One of us has to have brains. We can’t all get by on our good looks and skating ability,” you replied, slapping his cheeks when you were done for good measure.

“Okay, well, if you’re finally done,” you nodded in confirmation, “Let’s go.” He picked you up from under your thighs and ran at full speed towards the pool before you could even process what was happening. You screamed his name in protest begging him to put you down, claiming you hadn’t had time to put on sunscreen yet. He ignored you as he jumped into the deep end, dragging you with him.

You emerged from the water clinging to Mat’s wet body, your hair sopping and hanging over your face like you had come straight out of the movie The Grudge. Mat was laughing at your chaotic look, knowing you were well pissed at him. You jumped higher in the water on top of him to dunk his head under and tried your best to drown him.

It wasn’t until you were relaxing on the couch later that night doing your routinely social media scroll that you saw one of the guys recorded your sunscreen interaction by the pool, you calling Mat a dumbass, and him throwing you in the pool onto their instagram story with a caption “all these two do is fight” with some laughing crying emojis added for effect.

2.

After a long day or hiking, you’d immediately crashed on the couch once you’d gotten back to the house, not bothering to walk all the way to your room. It was only early in the afternoon but you’d been out since sunrise, and dealing with people for hours on end had drained you. The group laughed at you as you plopped your body down onto the couch, curling your head under your arm instead of grabbing the pillow two feet away from you. The rest of them gathered in the kitchen, refueling their bodies with assorted snacks as they started popping open bottles of beer, ready to start the night. It seemed that even an entire day on their feet had not emptied them of their, seemingly endless, energy.

“Jesus Christ, we hiked for, like, six hours and you’re all still bouncing off the walls,” you sighed deeply.

“We’re about to go hit the boat and go water skiing, too. I’m assuming you’re too tired to join us?” Tyson teased.

“I will not be joining you because unlike some people, I need a nap. Now get out of here, you’re all giving me a headache,” you said, pinching your fingers on the bridge of your nose to emphasize your point.

They all snickered but kept quiet as they shuffled around, packing up more food to take outside. You heard the sliding door shut and close a few times as they ran in and out before it was finally silent. You let out a sigh of relief as you took solace in the calm quiet.

That was until you felt a pair of arms shifting you closer to the edge of the couch. You peeked one eye open to see Mat rolling your body over to give him some space as he climbed over your body to nestle himself between you and the back cushions.

“Not going out on the boat?” You asked as he tucked a pillow under the both of your heads and pulled a blanket over your bodies.

“No. They’re exhausting. I need some time for myself,” Mat replied, wrapping his arm around your middle to pull you into his chest.

“No offense, but if you’re with me, you’re not by yourself,” you explained, closing your eyes again as you settled into a comfortable position.

“Yeah, but you’re you. You don’t exhaust me,” he said quietly. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t answer. Within a few seconds you heard Mat’s breathing even out, and you followed quickly behind him into a deep sleep.

-

A couple hours passed in a dreamless sleep when you heard the sliding of doors and laughter travel through the house. It stirred you from your sleep and you both shifted around, letting out displeased groans.

“Are they both still asleep?” You heard one of them ask from the kitchen. Neither of you wanted to answer in hopes they would leave you two to continue sleeping.

You were sadly mistaken.

“Hey! Sleeping beauties! Time to get up!” Tyson shouted from somewhere above you.

You both groaned out a “Fuck off, Tyson,” without opening your eyes, both of you giving him the middle finger. Tyson laughed to himself and you expected him to keep bothering you, but you heard his footsteps lead away from the couch. You turned over on your other side, tucking your face into Mat’s neck before falling back asleep.

-

When you woke up later that evening, you checked instagram again to see Tyson posted a new story. It was the video of him bothering you two and flipping him off with a caption that said “I get no respect around here :(“

3.

It had been raining all day. Which meant everyone was stuck inside watching movies and eating pizza. It didn’t take long for you to get bored of lounging on the couch, especially when all they wanted to do was watch Fast and Furious movies. You sat on the loveseat you were sharing with Mat, and you distracted yourself from the boring movie by tangling your hands in your hair, French braiding the strands into pigtails mindlessly. You unbraided and rebraided your hair into a fishtail after the pigtails, and then into a regular braided ponytail after that. You let yourself get caught up in daydreams as you stared blankly at the TV when Mat started tugging on your leg. Dropping your braid, you finished tying it off with a hair tie and turned to look at him.

“Let me practice on you,” Mat said quietly.

“Practice what?” You asked.

“Braiding,” he said, shuffling to sit upright. He tried to gently push you off the couch until you got the hint and moved to sit between his legs on the floor.

“You think you can do it?” You asked, ready to offer him a demonstration.

“I’ve been watching you for the past half hour, I got this,” he replied, pulling out your hair tie. You rolled your eyes at his confidence, but let him continue unraveling the strands.

Every few minutes Mat would sigh exasperatedly before pulling out the twists he’d made to start over. Eventually, he’d almost gotten all the way to the end of your hair before he sighed again, clearly fed up by how long this was taking him. You didn’t say anything as he restarted for a third time, going for a straight back braid instead of a French braid.

After another ten minutes, Mat had finally completed his simple braid, tying your hair off with the tie. He tapped your shoulder to indicate he was done, and you pulled the long tail over your shoulder to look at it.

It was a braid.

An extremely loose one where he mixed up the strand order in a couple places, but a braid nonetheless. You turned around to get back up on the couch, and you were met with his triumphant smile.

“Good job, bud,” you complimented, leaving the braid in as you resumed your previous position on the couch.

-

You checked your phone to find a notification of a new story tag. You opened the app to see a picture of you on the floor, staring at the TV while Mat had his hands twisted in your hair and a confused look on his face and tongue poking out of his mouth. Next to your instagram tag was “he’s been knotting her hair on purpose for 20 minutes now”

4.

Your final exams for the summer classes you were taking were in a week. Finals stressed you out more than anything else in the world, and when you were stressed, you did a lot of baking. A lot of baking. After finishing your finals study schedule and nearly breaking down almost twice because of the amount you had to get done, you decided to start baking instead of going to sleep. So, at 3 in the morning when everyone was asleep, you’d  turned on the oven and brought out the bowls.

It began with a few dozen cookies. You figured everyone could at least enjoy the cookies. Who didn’t like cookies?

Cookies turned into muffins, muffins into cupcakes, and then cupcakes into pies. By the time everyone was waking up, it was nearly eleven in the morning. You’d gone to the store twice and had taken a few twenty minute naps while you waited for your desserts baked in the oven. And right now, you were in the middle of finishing off some cinnamon rolls for breakfast

“Oh my god, what the hell happened here?” Mat had asked with a scared expression, taking note of the disastrous kitchen. You didn’t answer him as you were topping off the rolls with some icing.

A few more bodies had gathered in the kitchen and began to fill the seats at the countertop while they watched you with worried eyes.

“What?” You asked innocently, placing the plates of cinnamon rolls in front of all of them. Their eyes followed you carefully as you pulled more goods out of the oven where you were keeping them warm. Plate after plate you set on the counter, all the cookies and muffins and cakes.

“How long have you been up?” Tyson asked cautiously. You swear you’ve never heard him use a softer voice than right now.

“I’m not sure. I never went to sleep, I guess? What time is it now?” You asked, pulling out glasses for orange juice.

“Nearly noon. You seriously didn’t sleep?” Tyson asked. The others had delved into the confections, eyes bouncing between the two of you as they stuffed their faces.

“She’s stress baking,” Mat replied quietly, helping himself to a cinnamon roll.

“What the hell is tress baking?” One of the other guys asked.

“Yeah she does this when she’s stressed. Usually when finals are coming up,” Mat said, directing it more towards you than his friend. You gave him a sheepish look, deciding not to comment since he already answered for you.

Mat was used to your stress baking as it resulted in you showing up at his place in the middle of the night with bags full of pastries in the late hours of the evening. It was always against his diet and he frequently gave most of your desserts to his neighbor, but he could never tell you no when you arrived with gifts.

“Well, I’m all out of flour, so, I’m going to run to the store again to get some more supplies so I can make a chocolate cake later,” you said hurriedly.

You did a quick double check of the kitchen, flashing all the guys a bright smile before heading out the door with your purse in hand, all of them staring until the front door shut behind you.

-

When you came back, you found Mat in the kitchen doing the dishes and nearly all the sweets you’d baked earlier were eaten or wrapped and put away. Maybe there was a plus side to being in a home with five other people.

“Mat, you don’t have to do that,” you said, setting your groceries down and hip checking him away from the sink.

“You’re already stressed, I figured doing the dishes would take away some of that,” he said with a shrug. He continued rinsing out some bowls as you gave him a small smile.

The two of you continued to wash the dishes in silence, moving to clean the countertops when you were done. After half an hour, the mess you’d made was gone and any signs of a baking breakdown had been erased.

It was a shame you were about to tear up the kitchen all over again.

“How about this,” Mat said, noticing the frown on your face at the thought of making another mess, “Let’s have a competition.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

“You said you were making a chocolate cake, right? How about we see who can make the better cake,” Mat propositioned.

You raised both your eyebrows this time. You both knew you were the better baker by a long shot. You did have this same breakdown at least twice a year. You weren’t even sure Mat knew how to make anything that didn’t come with box instructions or included possible salmonella-inducing ingredients.

You knew what he was really trying to do. He was trying to distract you from all the stress, and he knew you couldn’t turn down a competition. You were just as bad as him when it came to winning. Thankfully, this was something you knew you’d win.

“Fine, but I hope you’re prepared to lose,” you agreed with a smile.

“I don’t know, I have been practicing my cooking skills lately,” he said, grabbing the bowls he’d just dried off.

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” you replied with an eye roll and heavy sarcasm.

You joined him in gathering all the ingredients and materials on the counter, setting up your respective stations. Mat divided the workspace in half, drawing a line in flour which made you laugh. You split the bowls between the sides and set up the ingredients on the second counter just like an actual cooking show.

“Okay, ground rules first. Half an hour to make the cakes, we bake them at the same time, and then another half hour for decorating at the end,” you explained, tying your hair back in a ponytail. Mat nodded at your statement and set a timer on his phone for 30 minutes.

“Ready.”

“Set.”

“Go!”

-

After about two hours, your creations were done. Well, they were supposed to be. Mat’s cake looked more or less like a brown lump coated in frosting and stripes. You’d tried your best to decorate yours with small chocolate roses, but you could’ve turned out a plain cake and probably would have done better.

“I think I won,” you stated confidently.

“You’re not allowed to decide, you’re biased! I’ll make a poll on my story,” Mat said, going to grab his phone.

“You can’t do that, your followers are going to pick yours.”

“Fine, we’ll get someone else to do it— Josty! Come here,” Mat called to his friend passing through the kitchen. He hesitantly walked over to where you were, not wanting to come in the middle of whatever you two were shouting about.

“We need you to make an instagram poll to see who’s cake looks better. Oh, and you’re going to taste test them,” you said, picking up your cake to pose for a picture as Mat did the same. Tyson sighed before realizing you two were serious and he opened his app to take a picture.

He added the photo to his story with a poll asking “Which one is better?” With two options, Y/N’s or Mat’s.

After you set the cakes back down, Tyson picked up a fork before stabbing them to pick out a chunk from each. He ate yours first, nearly moaning at the taste.

“Holy shit, this is, like, the best cake I’ve ever eaten,” Tyson said, shoveling down another forkful. You gave Mat a shit-eating grin.

“Okay, okay, try mine now,” Mat said, displeased. Tyson rolled his eyes before forking out some of his.

“Uh,” he coughed, “it’s a little,” cough, “dry.”

“What? No, it’s not! Let me try,” Mat shouted, outraged, and grabbed Tyson’s fork to try for himself.

It took him two seconds before he was spitting the cake into a napkin.

“Fine. You win,” Mat conceded, throwing a dish towel against the counter in mock fury.

You gloated for another 5 minutes, pointing out Mat’s terrible baking skills as Tyson continued to eat your cake and laugh at Mat.

You won the instagram poll too.

+ 1

It was the last week before you and Mat were flying back to New York. The past month had passed quickly, and Mat needed to get back for the start of training camps. As the summer began to end, the whole crew thought they’d spend one last day on the boat before everyone started parting ways.

It’s not like you were opposed to being on boats, but when all the guys did was water sports and no one wanted to slow down to teach you, it wasn’t as fun.

Today, however, had been quite calm as you sat against the front of the boat, a seltzer in hand as you watched Tyson wakeboarding in the back. Mat was curled up behind you as you leaned back against his chest, tanned skin shining in the summer sun. You reached back to grab the baseball cap off his head, placing it on yours to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten to bring sunglasses, and you figured Mat could part with his hat since he had a pair.

The day passed peacefully as all the guys took turns until it was sunset. Mat had joined you back on the seat, skin wet from just getting out of the water. He wrapped you in his arms before pulling you onto his lap, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Tys, take a picture of us real quick,” Mat said, shoving his phone into Tyson’s chest.

You thought nothing of it, you and Mat had taken many pictures together, and this was no different. Mat rested his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your stomach as you both gave your cheesiest smiles to the camera. A quick shutter indicated the picture was taken and Tyson gave Mat his phone back.

-

Mat called your name from your bed as you stood in the adjoined bathroom, finishing your nightly routine.

“Hey, do you mind if I post that picture of us on my instagram?” Mat called out.

“The one from the boat? Why?” You asked, drying off your face with a towel.

“It’s a cute picture,” he shrugged when you reentered the room.

“People are going to start talking if you do,” you warned with a cautious tone.

He paused for a second.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Mat asked quietly, looking up to meet your eyes.

You stayed silent as you climbed in under the covers.

“What are you trying to say, Mat?”

He took a deep breath, “I think you’re amazing, you know that. And we’ve been friends for so long, it kind of feels natural, doesn’t it?” His fingers began tapping against the sheets anxiously as he held his breath and waited for your response.

You gave him a small smile, moving your body around to fully face him.

“It does,” you agreed, “But if you want us to be something more, you’re going to have to ask me on a date first.”

“A date? After I’ve already gotten you into bed? What’s the point?” You knew he meant it as a joke since he could barely finish the sentence without laughing, but you gently slapped his head as he began to apologize.

“I’m kidding!” He said between chuckles, “Will you go on a date with me once we get back to New York and it’s safe to go out again?”

“I’d love to, Mat,” you replied, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss.

“I’m still going to post that photo tomorrow, though,” he said after a short pause, smiling against your lips.

-

The next day when Mat had gone on a fishing trip with the guys, you saw a notification pop up on your phone.

“@barzal97 tagged you in a photo”

You unlocked your phone.

“Isolation isn’t so bad when you have this girl to spend it with”

[therealnightcity]

16 for Avi, 22 for Hiro, 38 for Ares, and A for all three of them? :3

Character asks for @a-pirate 💕🥰

Avi:

16.) What makes their stomach turn?

Avi struggles with people or variables that are out of his control. It's something he attempts to mitigate by being controlling--it decreases his anxiety about a situation, and makes its outomes more predictable. It's reflected in his environments--something he and Hiro share in common. Avi's spaces always kept clean, and he is very particular about things looking a certain way, and doesn't want them deviating from that. He's practiced at keeping a lid on the facade, but it gets under his skin, in a way that many things do, seemingly without effort.

Hiro:

22.) How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)? 

Hiro struggles with jealousy. It's a feeling that he's not accustomed to, and usually finds himself jealous of situations instead of people. So when he does feel jealous of others, it takes him a while to realize what the sensation is, and tries his best to shove it down. He's not always successful and it comes out as a lot of pettiness, and and resentment--tiny remarks what slip out, or avoiding the situation entirely. He doesn't enjoy the feeling--he's supposed to be the one making people jealous, not the other way around. If someone asks, he'd be the first to deny it, even if it was blatantly obvious. Possessivness while it does exist, is usally very well-hidden, and something he takes pains to keep that way, unless directly confronted. It tends to be more obvious with long-term partners, and it mannifests in physical clinginess. It doesn't help that his primary love language is physical touch, so he likes being in his partners space, even if they're not interacting. There's also a tendency towards enjoying marks, whether leaving them or his partner doing so--a little bit of reasssurance of their presence.

Ares:

38.) What memory do they revisit the most often? 

There's a couple memories that stand out for Ares. The first is when she was able to get her own place, outside of the nomad clans, where she could work on her cars, and have that independence to do what she wants, when she wants, and not always have a well-meaning but smothering family looking over her shoulder. She likes being able to set her own schedule, and work weird hours of the night, and her clients don't care, as long as their items make it back to them in better shape then they started.

The memory of her first time in Night City also stands out--it was an overwhelming wall of noise and color, and even though it was only a quick trip to pick up supplies, it stayed with her for weeks. She's already planning her next trip, couldn't explore everything she wanted to the first time, and has no clue what sort of other people or adventures wait for her in the city

And for all of them: A) Why are you excited about this character?

Hiro:

Hiro is the first of the three created, and by far the character who I've put the most time and passion into. I've always enjoyed writing characters, even if I didn't share them with others and they were just in my head, or lived in word docs, but Hiro was the first who I talked about, not just with people I know irl (and who are patient enough to listen to me) but people online, and in a fandom community too. Hiro is proof that I love to create, to worldbuild, and can continually build and develop a character--he's gotten a lot better realized, and fleshed out over time, and went through significant changes since I first created him, and he's the one that got me back into creating, and not just writing for myself but for others too.

Avi:

Avi started as a foil to Hiro, and although he still is, in some ways, he's developed from plot device, and flavor from Hiro's past, to his own character, and to one who I've gotten very attached to. I'd intended on killing him off, at some point, but this very quickly proved not to be the case, and I'm glad I didn't. Avi is exciting because he's so different from Hiro--he's more challenging for me to write, because he has this coldness (initially) and makes decisions that have me going 'what ARE YOU DOING? THEY'RE TRYING TO HELP YOU.' But it's been really exciting too, getting out of my comfort zone a little, and writing characters who's personalities might not mesh with my own, and still presenting them as human, complex characters, who can't be painted as all bad, even if they don't always do the right thing.

Ares:

Ares is the character I had the most struggles with envisioning. I'd always seen Hiro as the youngest sibling, and I knew one of them had avoided the peril of the two brothers, and was born into a life, while not perfect, wasn't as tumultuous. I knew early on I wanted her to be a nomad, and a bit of her backstory, but her personality was challenging for me to develop, and she went through a lot of visual changes before she was in a place where I was happy with her. Most of my characters write themselves in a way, and it feels more like they tell me who *they* want to be, and not the other way around, and Ares it was always a struggle not to project bits of myself there. I think it's impossible for me to never do that with my characters, and all of them have little pieces of me too, quirks or favorite things, or traits that they're not proud of--but Ares was extra challenging for me not to go too far with this, and had to keep revisiting her character and going, 'is this what she'd really do, or what I'm just saying she would.' She's the proof to me that character creation can be really challenging sometimes, but that it's worth it, seeing one come to life, that feels genuinely themselves. She's my newest character, and the one I've just started to flesh out more, and I'm so excited to see how her personality and motives deepen even more.

[juliandev0rak]

I feel like how someone does grocery shopping says a lot about who they are, might I request the LIs grocery shopping at Walmart? Like, what section they go to first, do they buy in bulk once a week or sparingly throughout, etc.? Thank youuu!

oooh i love this request, thank you @arcanecadenza 💗

I’m basing this off of Super Walmart which has basically any section or item you could imagine!

Asra

Asra is the type to go to the grocery store daily just to pick up a few things at a time

he thinks grocery shopping is fun and likes to take his time perusing the aisles to see what unique ingredients he can find

he goes to the produce section first and very carefully selects his fruits and vegetables for peak ripeness, and he loves to watch when the produce gets sprayed with water like a little rain shower 🥺

he also likes to walk through the home section to look for comfy throw pillows or scented candles

if you come along on the shopping trip he’ll turn it into an event™️ and will suggest getting tea or coffee first so you can enjoy your beverages while you wander the store

if he goes by himself he’ll probably surprise you with your favorite ice cream or flowers that made him think of you that he just had to add to the cart

Julian

Julian goes to the store more than once a week because he inevitably forgets something every time, even with a list

he’s the type to run to the store after work to grab one singular onion he needs for a recipe or a bag of his favorite chips on a whim

he goes to the frozen section first, he’s a busy man and having frozen vegetables or meals on hand is always helpful in a pinch

he generally tries to shop quickly, but if you go with him he’ll want to spend more time walking around and looking at all of the random items together

“MC, do I look good in this hat?” 

the hat is bright yellow and says ‘This is what AWESOME looks like’ on it, you can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or if he genuinely likes the hat, maybe it’s time to leave the clothing section

he likes to look in the bargain bins for old dvds, he’s the type to enjoy cheesy early 2000s movies and he still has a dvd collection despite having a Netflix subscription

Nadia

she’s a Whole Foods type of gal and probably wouldn’t shop at Walmart, but she would find it a fun experience if she did

she’s a planner, so her grocery shopping is efficient and she doesn’t get tempted by unnecessary purchases, unless you want something she hasn’t added to the list

Nadia would be impressed by the wide variety of items for sale, “They sell clothing? Bicycles? Books? Jewelry? What don’t they sell here!” 

she’ll want to look at the wine aisle, and would be surprised by the large selection there is to choose from and the sale prices

when she gets home she’ll be posting all over her social media about it because she assumes nobody has ever heard of the store, “Just went to a new store called Wal-Mart, excellent selection for wonderful prices- I highly recommend.” 

Nadia would be the type to give a grocery store a Yelp review

Muriel

he usually uses the online order option so he doesn’t have to go to the physical store to shop

if he has to shop in person he’ll stock up for an entire month at a time and buys staple products in bulk like flour or oats

he always visits the garden center so he can get supplies for his garden, and he prefers to grow his own produce instead of buying it when possible

he also likes to go through the camping supply aisles, he can pretty much always find something he needs whether it’s extra rope or a tarp to put over his chicken coop in the rainy season

the wide aisles and general cavernous interior of a Walmart means that he doesn’t have to be around too many crowds while he shops, so all in all he doesn’t mind the experience

and if you go shopping with him he’ll gladly follow you around the store if you want to look around 

Muriel always uses the self checkout even if he has a full cart

Portia

she walks into the store precisely once a week with a detailed list of items to purchase and she sticks to it, except for the occasional impulse buy

she heads to the bakery section first, not to buy any of the pre-made items but to get inspiration for her next baking project

”That frosting looks gross, I could do better!” 

Portia can often be found in the wine aisle buying cheap boxed wine, she has her favorite brands to splurge on but she also loves a deal 

if you come along, the grocery trip will turn into a game

hide and seek in the toy aisles? tag in the clothing section? Something about the fluorescent lights brings out Portia’s playful side

if she goes to the store by herself she’ll be a lot more efficient, but where's the fun in that?

Lucio

Lucio loves Walmart, the chaotic grocery store energy invigorates him and he loves to show up in fancy outfits (he strives to be the hottest person at the grocery store)

some of these outfits (a gold sparkly shirt under a white suit? neon green pants with a Gucci belt?) could land him in the “People of Walmart” hall of shame

he believes there's nothing you can’t find at Walmart, and he explores every section even if he came for just one item

he’s the type to get bored and go to a 24 hour store at three in the morning just to walk around and buy an energy drink or a frozen pizza for no reason

at the checkout he’s tempted by the “as seen on tv” items and might end up purchasing random items like an automatic light switch that activates when you clap, or duct tape that claims to be “military grade”

if you come along on the Walmart trip you’re going to have to convince him not to buy useless items and he’ll probably turn the “puppy dog look” on and try to persuade you, “But baby, we need that microwave egg cooker! I saw it on a commercial!” 

but at least he’ll hold your hand the whole time

[ahsokasleftbicep]

Name and Soul: Chapter 6

It's finally here! I am SO SO sorry for the delay. This weekend has been insane. But anyway, let's go.

@mqgriett @darkangel4121 @thelambandthewolffe @maulscrosshair @trash-dino-5000 @lightning-wolffe @killtherandomness @shadowwing1324 @sydnubabu @lafy-taffy @photowizard17

Crosshair x F! reader

Word Count: 2042

Warnings: SPOILERS for episode 6, Rampart being a *ahem* douchebag, super conflicted Crosshair, internal conflict, Tech being amazing, Wrecker kicking ass, there are a few curse words but nothing too bad, I think

“Y/N… Y/N!” Omega tugs on your hand.

You shake your head and look down at her. “Huh?... What?” The girl points at the makeshift target painted on the far wall.

“Good job, Omega! You’re getting there!” You ruffle her hair and she smiles. “How about you try again?”

Omega nods and readies herself with the Zygerrian bow. You look out the door and tune everything out. After you saw, well thought you saw him, you stood in the middle of the streets until someone bumped your shoulder. It couldn’t have been him. That’s impossible, he would be on Kamino. And he didn’t have any weapons besides his knife, he never brings only one weapon. And his eyes… It had to be him.

You refocus when Omega lets out a frustrated groan.

“But I’ve already hit the target three times.”

Echo rests his hand on her shoulder. “Out of 12. That’s luck, Omega, not skill.”

“He’s right.” You hop off the gambling table and nod at the target. “Soldiers need to be consistent and that comes with time.”

Omega tries again but misses, glaring at the Weequay and Ithorian. “I was doing better until those two showed up.”

Echo glances at you before looking back to Omega. “You have to learn to tune out distractions, which comes with practice.”

“Try again, Omega. You can do it.” You smiled at the girl and winced when she missed again.

“Not exactly a natural, is she.” Cid walks up and nudges Wrecker off of his seat. “Playtime’s over, I got a job for you.”

You all gather around the table, making yourselves comfortable. Omega reaches up to you and you pick her up so she can see.

“I assume you guys know what a tactical droid is?... They were the opera…”

“The operational brains of the Separatist military-” Tech butts in.

“Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba.” This is my briefing, Goggles.”

Tech steps back offended while you and Echo try to muffle your laughter. Tech elbows you with a small smile before refocusing on Cid’s briefing. This is going to be a fun mission.

--

He was tired. God, he was so tired. Crosshair lied on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Despite his exhaustion, he had been trying to go to sleep for hours.

Why did I run? Why did I leave her there? Why did you go in the first place, you should’ve killed her. I love her. She betrayed the Empire, tried to kill you. I tried to kill her first.

Crosshair sat up from his bed and removed his necklace. He turned the ring over in his hand, looking at the engraving. O'r gai bal runi…

Y/N… I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.

“CT-9904, report to my office immediately.”

….“Yes, sir.”

--

“We’re approaching the decommissioning site. We can land at the dockyard and go in on foot.” Tech turns his head to look back before landing the ship.

You put on your helmet and look down at Omega. “You ready kid?”

“Definitely!” The girl runs ahead before Hunter holds her shoulder. You all crouch behind a wall. You raise your brow at Tech and poke his shoulder.

“What’s with the police droids? Cid never mentioned those.”

The man rolls his eyes and looks at his vambrace. “They operate on a rotating quadrant scan. If we time it correctly, they have a blind spot.”

“That’s our way in then.”

“Precisely.”

When the time is right, you make your way to the site, going up a ladder.

“It’s okay, Wrecker. Don’t look down, just like Skako Minor.” You glance down at the man and he nods.

“You say that like it’s easy, Y/N.”

You all enter the facility and huddle together.

“Wrecker, cover us up top.”

“But being the lookout was Crosshair’s job.”

“That’s why Y/N is going with you.” Hunter nods at you.

“Sounds good to me… C’mon big guy, let's get up there.”

--

This really could be going better. You dodge a few shots from the police droids, firing something back.

“Wrecker, Y/N. Get to the main control panel.” Echo’s voice comes through the comms

You and the man run up but stop when you reach the panel… on the other side of a river of molten droid parts. Lovely. Crosshair would’ve loved this.

“Echo, we can’t reach the platform. Unless you want us to fall into a molten river.”

“It’s the only way to reboot the whole facility. Figure it out!”

Wrecker looks at you, “That’s easy for you to say.” The man paces erratically and grips his head.

“Wrecker, we need to hurry. You can do this.” You stop the man and hold his shoulders. “I’ll cover you.”

The man groans and mumbles to himself.

“Wrecker, what are you waiting for?”

“Wrecker, you need to hurry!” A blaster shot flies over your head, and more police droids surround you both.

Wrecker jumps to a claw and swings to the platform, hitting his head in the process.

“Wrecker! Get the system online, we’re running out of time!” Police droids gather together, converging on your position. The man flips the switch before collapsing.

“Wrecker!” You fire off a few rounds and use the claw to get to the platform. “C’mon Wrecker! We gotta get out of here!”

You grab Wreckers blaster and fire at the closer droids. “Dammit, Wrecker!”

“H-Hunter, Y/N… I’m stuck on the conveyor. I need help.”

“I’m surrounded by police droids and Wrecker is incapacitated at the moment. Hunter?”

“I’ll get Omega. Just get down here as soon as you can.”

You fire off more rounds, then kneel down. “Wrecker… Wrecker! You couldn’t have hit your head that hard. C’mon.” You push his shoulder.

More droids converge and you move around the platform. Wrecker mumbles but you can’t make out anything. Good soldiers follow orders.

--

Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers...good soldiers.

“CT-9904? A moment?” Rampart approached the grey-haired man, who placed a toothpick between his lips.

“Sir.”

“I believe we have gotten off on the wrong… foot.” Rampart stands, looking out the window. “You see, Private L/N and her skills will be very useful for my current project. I understand that your relationship with the soldier-”

Crosshair shoves the man against the window, holding the sharpened point of his toothpick at Rampart’s neck. “I am holding this right over your carotid artery. If I slip just enough, you will bleed out in minutes, possibly less. Now I don’t know who you think I was to that woman, but if you keep pushing it...” Crosshair presses his toothpick harder. “...then I suggest you watch your back.” Crosshair lets go of his collar and Rampart falls to the floor, gripping his neck. “Oh and Admiral. If you tell anyone about this, I’ll still have enough time to find you.” The sniper narrows his eyes and disappears down the hallway.

--

“Y/N, Wrecker, get down here now!”

“I’m working on it, Echo! Wrecker’s still-”

“We’re on our way.” The man grabs his weapon from you and nudges your shoulder.

“Oh, so glad you could join us! How was your beauty sleep?” You punch his shoulder. “We need to get to the others.”

The man walks up to a chain and crouches down. “You remember that mission on Tatooine?”

“How could I ever forget?” You smile and get up on Wrecker’s shoulders. “Let’s do some damage.”

Wrecker jumps down the chain, the two of you firing off. “Sorry, we took so long!”

“We got tired of you guys having all the fun!” Wrecker lands with you still on his shoulders. You hop off and start covering the rest of the group.

“Y/N!” Omega runs up next to you, a few smudges on her face.

“Omega! You got a little something on your cheek, nothing a rag and water can’t take care of.” You pat her on the head for a moment before returning more fire.

A moment later, old battle droids begin to stand up and fire on the police droids.

“Well, that’s new… I take it, that’s our cue to get the hell out of here.”

Tech runs next to you, “Yes, it is indeed.”

“Good shot, Omega!”

“Thank you! You and Echo were right about those distractions.”

“We’ve dealt with this our whole lives, you learn to forget about them over time.” You kneel behind her and provide cover. “Let’s get going… I’m starving.”

“You and me both!” Wrecker runs past you, knocking the remaining droids to the ground.

--

“Trace, right?”

“Yes! And you’re Y/N.” The girl smiles at you.

You place your hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for going back to Omega.”

“She’s a good kid… And a good shot.” Trace chuckles.

“Well, she’s getting there…”

“Y/N! Let’s go! I thought you were starving!” Omega sticks her head out of the ship, waving her arms.

“Okay, jeez. I’m coming!” You wave to the sisters and run to the ship, sitting in the cockpit. Omega comes up and tugs on your arm. “Y/N… Uhm, can you help me train for a bit?”

“Yeah sure, but no target practice. Let’s do strength instead! Then you need to rest, you’ve had a big day.”

“Okay! Now c’mon let’s go!” The girl grabs your hand and drags you to the back.

--

Crosshair stood in the shower, staring at his necklace. He hadn’t moved in minutes, just letting the water run down his body. He was thinking… about everything. Sleep is unknown to him, his brain won’t shut up. He won’t shut up.

You should’ve gone back for her. You should’ve killed her. I love her. No, you don’t. What do you know...You’re not me. I love Y/N, and I always will, I promised her. Ha, with what? That stupid necklace, that ring? You tried to kill her and you think she still loves you? You betrayed everything you promised. You don’t know Y/N like I do. She knows, they all do. She saw me that day, she knows that I’m still here. And she knows you’re here too. She’s not stupid. Oh, I’m sure. Just shut up and let me sleep, please. Hm, I’ll think about it. No, I don’t think I will.

--

“Y/N? Why are you up?” Tech walks into the cockpit, devoid of his eyewear.

“I- couldn’t sleep. Haven’t been since…”

“Since the day we left Kamino… Am I correct?”

“Yes… It’s so odd. It’s like I can feel him.”

“Crosshair?”

“Yes, it’s like I can feel his presence. Like when someone stands behind you, but you can feel them there before they speak. And I keep thinking I hear him, and I see things. Like nightmares...horrible nightmares.” Tears gather in your eyes and they fall down your cheeks. “I- I must be losing my mind, right?”

Tech places his hand on your shoulder and kneels in front of you. “Y/N, you are most definitely not going crazy. But what you’re experiencing does sound very strange. I know how much this… has affected you and I don’t- I don’t have all the answers. I do wish I did, but circumstances have prevented me from fully dedicating-”

“Tech, you’re rambling again.” You put your hand on his shoulder. “I know you are doing everything you can, and you have a great assistant.”

The man chuckles, “Apologies. Yes, Omega is a very nice assistant. She is quite intelligent.” Tech stands up and yawns, “I believe some sleep is necessary, for both of us.”

“I’ll go in a moment, I promise.”

“Very well, I would hate to drag you back.” Tech nods before heading back to his room.

You turn your head, looking out into hyperspace. Crosshair… I don’t know if you can hear me. I was looking at the stars… I miss you. Maybe you’re looking at the stars too if you can even see them, but I hope you are. They look so pretty tonight.

--

Crosshair turned his head to the window, looking through the clouds of Kamino. He finds a small opening in the clouds, revealing a dark, clear sky above. I found the stars… You’re right. They do look pretty….

I love you, Y/N.

… I love you, Crosshair.

[winter-fox-queen]

Albatross

Summary:  Frankie wants to give you your dream vacation, but he’s not sure if it is worth the price.  

Warnings:  Female reader.  (He calls her his girl, and she wears a skirt in one scene.)  Angst.  No smut.  I thought I would finally write smut, this was going to be a very different story where they were AT the place already, but.  No.  Angst with a nice ending because I can't leave Frankie to suffer too long.

Thanks to @autumnleaves1991-blog -- you are awesome and this picture is lovely.  

1,870 words.

Frankie didn’t lie to you.  Not about this, at least.

Well.

Not really.  He was working extra, taking extra shifts.  Except for right now.  Right now, he was in a cabin in the middle of a state forest, one of the very few things he’d bought with the money.  A place to hide.  To be at peace.

It was not working. The money felt like a weight. Half of each share had gone to Redfly���s family.  Half had gone to each man.  He’d hoped for freedom.  This was anything but.

I shouldn’t have hidden it in the cabin.  He once watched a TV show about Escobar, seen that one of the caches of money he’d hidden outside had gotten moldy.  So Frankie had gone into the cellar.  Dug up a section of the dirt floor.  Made a proper hiding place, kneeling in the dirt, mixing up quickcrete and placing stones until the cellar was paved in with stone pavers.  Three were loose.  Only one had a reinforced box with another box and a bunch of money that could change his life but he can’t even look you in the eye and explain that he has it.

So here he was, sitting on the weathered wood bench in front of the cabin you did not even know he owned, resting his cheek on his fist, looking at the cabin of his damned dreams like it was a haunted death trap from a B horror movie.

He signed, grabbed the magazine he’d dropped on the ground earlier, flipping it to an article you’d been sighing over when you thought he wasn’t looking.  The ultimate romantic getaway, with tiled pools and greenery and luxurious accommodations and candlelight dinners.  

“That’s pretty,” he’d said over your shoulder as you looked at the main picture of the article, a swimming pool tiled and beautiful – all Middle East and mysterious looking, making you think of romance and beauty.  

“I love it,”  you admit.  “I’d never get to go…but it is beautiful.  Have to win the lottery.”  She grinned at him.

He looked it up online, curious.  Frankie the pilot/mechanic couldn’t afford it.  Not even with extra shifts and only one beer on Fridays and watching every penny.

The other Frankie could.

So that was why he found himself in the cellar.  If you knew which paver it was to start from, and which direction to go, it was just a knight chess move, probably obvious and stupid, but he did not trust himself to remember any other way.  He pried it up carefully so not to scratch the stone and give away the hiding place.

He stared at the hole. The carefully wrapped money.  He fumbled for his phone, and by some miracle the call went through.

“Hey Frankie.”  Pope’s voice sounded tired, but warm.  Not quite there.

“If you really, really love someone, is it OK to lie to them?”

Pope didn’t think before he replied.  “Of course not.”

“If you really, really love someone and want to do something to make them happy, is it OK to lie about where you got the money for it?”

That stopped Pope. Pope, instead of being split focused was now, 100%, listening.  “Frankie…”

Frankie, waiting, crouching by the hidden safe, phone to one ear, other hand relaxed on his knee. Waiting.  Frankie was very good at waiting.

Pope sputtered a little, tried to think of what to say.  Finally. “Yeah, Frankie.  It’s OK.”

It’s what he wanted to hear but it wasn’t the truth and he knew it.  “I’ve never loved anyone like I love her.  I’ve never wanted anything in my life like I want her, want her happiness. But there’s this whole chunk of my life that she doesn’t even know about.  I look at this damned cabin and I think, she’d love it up here.  Her car broke down and she needed to buy a new one, and I could have bought her a fucking car so she wouldn’t have to worry about payments.”

“I know,”  Pope muttered, but Frankie is on a roll.  

“And the one damned thing I’ve ever seen her really, really want and it’s this damned vacation and I can give it to her.  I can fucking pay for it, but if she finds out how it’ll ruin everything.  She won’t be able to enjoy it.  The memory will be ruined.  I can’t fucking win.  What good is it, if I have this, and I can’t even use a little of it to make my girl happy?”

Pope, picking words, both because he’s not sure what to tell Franlie and because he is paranoid about anyone (doubtful) listening in.  “Maybe…maybe that is the good.  You can’t…make it better, right?  But you can…clean it.  Make good memories for your girl.  Do good things for the people you love.”  Pope sighed. “I can’t…I can’t bear it, either, you know?  I save it for a rainy day, but…”

“I didn’t think the guilt would last so long,”  Frankie said.

“No.”

“Maybe I should tell her.”

A pause.  “I can’t think of any way to tell that story without things going to shit.”

“I don’t like lying to her.”

“No.”  Another pause.  “Please don’t tell her unless you know you can trust her.”

“She won’t blab.” Frankie glared at the phone.

“Don’t get insulted on her behalf.  Everyone you love could get hurt…including her.”

Guilt seized his heart so hard he wondered if he was going to have a heart attack, right there.

“You OK, man?”

“Yeah.  Yeah.”  He said through numb feeling lips.  “I’m ok.”

He slipped his phone in his pocket, reached in, and took what he thought he could use, and carefully hid everything again.

Then he got very devious.

You can put up to 15,000 on a prepaid Visa gift card.  He went to a place where people were smart enough not to ask questions, or even care. One of those places where you want to wash your clothes after you leave.

Then he called the resort. “Look, I have these friends…” he said, “I want to treat them, but they can’t know who I am…”  The prepaid card was as good as a credit card.

And then he went home, and waited for you to check your email.  Sweating.  

And, obscurely, jealous of himself.  Super fucking jealous of himself, the more he thought about it.  Like, he hated the mysterious benefactor who was about to make the love of his life so happy.

He wanted to be the one. Wanted your eyes to light up and know it was because he’d been able to provide for you, he’d been able to make this happen.  He closed his eyes and swallowed it.  It was stupid and selfish…what did it matter, who got the credit as long as you got this? As long as it made you happy? Frankie would be there, seeing your smile when you stood next to that glorious tiled pool, watch you dabble your toes shyly in the water, as if to ask, can I really have this?

And it did.

“Frankie!”  You came in, sat on his lap.  Your arms were warm around him, you made a soft and perfect armful as he wrapped himself around you, let your lips peck happy kisses all over his face.

“What is it, baby?”  

You pull back.  “You know.  The trip.”

Frankie raises his eyebrows, all innocence, starts to protest, but you silence him with another kiss.

“I know, baby, who loves me enough to put so much effort into planning things like this.  The surprise is nice, but you know I’m not dumb.” You toss aside his cap and run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp gently, and Frankie sighs softly, his eyes shutting a little.  He opens them again when your hands cup his cheeks.  

You look very serious. And a little sad.  Which hits his Oh Shit button, hard.

“You didn’t have to go to all this effort, baby.  You really didn’t.”

“Well, I…”  he tried to think of something to say, but settled for, “I love you.  I love you so much, you don’t even…”

This earns him a kiss on the forehead.  Then you say, “I know how you got the money.” And his blood runs cold.  Before he could marshal some sort of reply, you continue, “Come on, Cat.  Long hours. Extra shifts?  I know that the people down at the field are not the most upstanding of people.  But…baby, it’s so dangerous.”

It doesn’t take him much to put the pieces together.  “You think I’m running drugs?”  It comes out as an incredulous squeak.

You nod.  “It makes sense.  This dream – literally a dream vacation – is not cheap.  And I never expected it.  You know that?  I enjoyed day dreaming about going with you because I love you and I want to take you all over the world…”  You sigh. “I just want to see the beautiful things of this world through your eyes.”

This time, Frankie does the silencing, with a gently thumb over your lips.  “Sweetheart, I didn’t…”

You kiss the pad of his thumb.  “You gonna try and tell me this money came on the up and up?  Baby, I know how much you make.”

You look at each other for a long moment.  You, work skirt hiked up so you can straddle his thighs, sitting closer to his knees,  Frankie, his hands gentle on your hips so you don’t fall.

“I could tell you,” he says, softly.  The words running underneath But I don’t want to and you might not like it.

You are sharp.  That’s one of the things he likes about you, how much you see.  It’s also one of the things that scares him the most.  Finally, “Are you in danger?”

Frankie shakes his head, once.  

“Is it…is it the reason why sometimes you get so sad?”

One nod.  A little smile.  He watches you digest this.  Make a decision.  

The delicate hands come up to frame his face again.  You look him right in the eyes.  “You are a good man.  I don’t know what happened, and maybe, someday, you can tell me.  But you are good and kind and I love you.”  And you kiss him again, this time so fiercely that his thinks it’s going to bruise, and he’s fine with that.

You lean back again.  “Humph.  Well. If you’d not already paid for it, I’d probably save the money to pay on the car.”

“No take backs.”  He grins despite himself.  

“Rats.”  You grin back.  Slide off his lap.  “Now to call Darla and see when I can take off, and then we are buying you a new swim suit.”  You bounce on your feet, then turn to go for your phone.

Frankie leans back against the cushions with a groan.  “I do not need…”

You peek around the doorframe.  “You are not going to a five star resort in purple swim trunks with catfish on them!”

“They were a present!” he calls after your retreating form, and grins at the ceiling.

It’s going to be alright, he thinks, feeling lighter.  It’s going to be alright.

[mxndoscyarika]

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 6

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: food/drink mention, death mention

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: Thank you for being so patient 🥺 School+job interviews have been kinda crazy for the last few weeks. But now I’m on spring break AND got an internship, so hopefully the coming chapters will be up soon. Enjoy!

“Are you sure you don’t mind picking up Missy? I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

Erin laughed softly, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m turning into the school parking lot already, babe. I don’t mind, really. It’s nice to spend time with Missy.”

Her boyfriend let out a sign of relief on the other end of the call. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it a couple times,” she replied, pulling up to the pickup line. When she spotted Missy, she waved her over. Her heart soared as the little girl’s face lit up like the sun. “I should let you get back to work. I’ll bring her back to your place, so don’t worry about stopping by my apartment, ok?”

“Okay, honey.” A pause. “Thank you for taking care of my baby. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably run around frantically,” she teased, unlocking the car doors so Missy could climb into the back seat. “Now go save the world, Marcus. I’ll see you at home in a few hours.”

After that, she hung up and turned around in her seat to greet Missy, who was already buckled up. “Ready to go home?”

The little girl nodded. “Will you stay for dinner tonight? We haven’t had a night with all three of us in a while.”

Erin laughed softly, pulling out of the pickup line. “Missy, sweetie, I stayed over this past weekend! But yes, I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

“Can you stay forever, then?”

Well, that was unexpected. Yes, she’d become an integral part of the Morenos’ lives, but she never thought Missy would want her around all the time. Surely she missed her mom, or missed having free reign around the house with just Marcus as her parent figure. She couldn’t be that important, could she?

Part of her couldn’t help but melt at Missy’s request. For a long time, she’d wanted to find someplace that she could call home–a place where she could live, appreciate, and be appreciated in return. It would’ve been a lie to say that she never thought of a life with the Morenos, but she knew that it was more complicated than her late-night fantasy made it out to be. She couldn’t just barge into their lives.

The drive to Marcus’s house was muscle memory at that point, the turns of her wheel well-practiced. After their first date, they’d gone on two more. And while neither of them had gone much further than needy kisses, she couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with him. He was worth it. He was worth everything.

Missy bounced on the balls of her feet as Erin fished out the house key from her purse, bounding into the house the moment the door was unlocked. “If I finish my homework early, can we bake something?”

“Maybe,” she mused, setting her shoes on the shoe rack by Missy’s. After locking the front door, she walked into the main family and dining area. “What did you have in mind?”

“Can we make a tres leches cake?” Missy asked, looking up at her with innocent eyes. “I asked dad, but he said no.”

Erin chuckled and sat down in the chair next to her. “That’s probably for a good reason, sweetie. We just finished a cake roll the other day, so maybe we can bake it this weekend. Instead, we can have ice cream today.”

The girl sighed and shrugged. “Okay, it was worth a shot.” She frowned as she read over her english homework. “Parts...of speech? I don’t remember learning any of this in class. Can you help me? Pleeeease, Erin?”

Humming in confirmation, she set down the file she was reading and turned so she could read the homework sheet better. “Ah, I remember learning this in school. It’s not too bad, it’s just that the names are a little weird. Let’s see…”

They worked on the homework together, Erin explaining the concepts and asking Missy to give her examples of everything from verbs to nouns. She tried not to think about what it would be like to spend more afternoons and evenings helping her little girl with homework. It was a long way off, and she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

She was explaining the difference between nouns and proper nouns when Missy mentioned, “You know, dad used to have a different name.”

Erin raised a dark brow, surprised at how nonchalantly the girl had made the comment. “Really, now?” It probably shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise–didn’t most superheroes have codenames, or secret identities?

Missy nodded. “Well, I think so. I remember when I was little, sometimes he would write Marcus Pike on my permission slips instead of Moreno. Then he’d have to cross it out and fix it. Silly, right?”

Erin froze, her heart dropping into her stomach. Her Marcus...was Marcus? “Oh...that is silly. I wonder why he changed it.”

It didn’t make sense. Marcus Pike disappeared nearly a decade ago, and as far as she knew, he wasn’t affiliated with the Heroics. And he certainly couldn’t have a daughter that was in second grade.

Or could he?

But if he was the Marcus Moreno, then why did he need to have a fake identity? More importantly, why didn’t he tell her that he was Marcus Pike? Even if it was a codename, it didn’t matter once they met. Unless...he didn’t want her to know.

Maybe he didn’t want to be found;  because if she was anything to him, why didn’t he look for her? Why didn’t he try to contact her?

The air turned cold. Breathing slowly through her nose, she sat back and opened her laptop. She scrolled through the reports of Marcus Pike’s disappearance. There was nothing on him except some anecdotes and some text messages between coworkers. There was no address, no email, no mention of his name online. He’d very much disappeared. No one, not even her best agents, could find any trace of him after that winter day eight years ago.

Sighing, she switched gears and pulled up as much information as she could find about Marcus Moreno. She didn’t like the feeling of prying into his life, but she had to know. It didn’t make sense: if Marcus Pike existed for years within the FBI, what was Marcus Moreno up to? Did he disappear too?

Her hands shook as she clicked on the website of the Heroics and went to Marcus’s page. Unlike most of the other heroes, he didn’t have a codename. Why was that?

She paused at his photo, gaze softening slightly. As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, he did look a lot like Marcus Pike. He had the same furrow between his brows, the same nose. They were the same height as well, which she’d noticed as her body fit perfectly against him.

They��he?–both knew her coffee order like the back of their–his?–hand, and knew exactly how to comfort her when the stress from work became too much. He called her the same pet names, her favorite being….honeydew.

Shit.

Only one person ever called her “honeydew.”

She was terrified as she scrolled down.

The first appearance of Marcus Moreno as a member of the Heroics was eight years ago.

How could she have been so blind? He was right in front of her the entire time, and she never noticed. She built her entire reputation on remembering details and noticing everything, and she couldn’t pick up on the clues. Who else would call her “honeydew,” hug her like it had been years, and want to take the relationship slow?

It was too much.

Not wanting Missy to worry, Erin got up from the table and locked herself in the bathroom before letting the tears fall.

Why did he have to go?

Why didn’t he tell her?

Why didn’t he come back?

---

Erin only let a few tears fall before gathering herself again. She couldn’t let Missy know the truth, not yet. She had to be strong for her, just as she had to be strong for her team when every lead turned into a dead end. So much time had passed since she last had any hope of seeing Marcus again; part of her didn’t want to believe it. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny it anymore: Marcus Moreno was Marcus Pike. He was alive and well, and happy.

The least she could do was be happy for him.

But it didn’t soften the blow on her pride.

Dinner was a quieter affair than usual. She couldn’t bring herself to talk more than a couple sentences at a time, for fear of something slipping out. Maybe it was better that way. Marcus obviously didn’t want to deal with the effects of disappearing, so why should she make an effort to find closure?

That was another thing, she realized. If he really was Marcus Pike, then would she ever get closure? Would she ever get to truly move on from the one person she could never have?

Once Missy went upstairs to get ready for bed, the silence grew deafening. There was so much she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how.

Marcus must’ve sensed something was off, because his brows furrowed just slightly. He came up and leaned against the counter, watching as she transferred the leftovers into tupperware containers. “What’s wrong?”

Erin sighed. Part of her didn’t want to confront him and destroy the little bubble of happiness surrounding them, but she needed answers. If he reacted badly….maybe he wouldn’t be the one. Resigned, she asked, “Why did you lie to me, brown eyes?”

A blanket of silence settled in the kitchen.

His eyes widened. “W-what do you mean?”

Fighting back tears, she asked, “Why did you let me think you were dead, Pike? I-” She covered her face with her hands, eyes clenched shut. “I searched for you, but you were gone!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes glistening. “I should’ve told you.”

As she started trembling, he realized it was the first time he’d ever seen her cry. His honeydew was crying because of him.

“I just wanted my best friend back,” she said. Facing him, she asked, “Were you ever going to tell me? Or was I supposed to live the rest of my life feeling guilty that I was moving on from the love of my life?”

Marcus felt like he’d been punched. She…wanted him since the beginning? “Your...what? Honeydew, I-”

She stepped back as he reached for her. His heart broke as she shook her head and said firmly, “No. You don’t get to call me that. I don’t….I don’t even know who you are.”

“Okay,” he said softly, taking off his glasses. Tears dripped down his face as he faced her. “Let me introduce myself. Completely. My name is Marcus Moreno. We met when I was hiding under an alias: Marcus Pike.”

He told her about his family, and his involvement with the Heroics early on in his life. His mother, Anita Moreno, was one of the original heroes in the organization. As the Heroics grew more prominent and began working with the government, he needed to change his name–while his mother wanted to help the world, he just wanted a normal life. He wanted to go to school, make friends, and have a family someday.  With the status that came with being a Moreno, he couldn’t do any of that without putting his loved ones in danger. So, with the help of the Heroics, he changed his identity to Marcus Pike.

Most of his adult life, including university, was spent as Marcus Pike. His failed marriage had Marcus Pike written on the certificate. Even when he worked for the FBI, he was documented as Marcus Pike; no one knew who he was, not when new people were being cycled in and out of the workplace.

After moving to DC and having his engagement with Teresa Lisbon broken off, he gave up. He contacted his mother, got involved with the Heroics again, and had his identity erased so he could take over as the leader of the Heroics.

“But that doesn’t explain why you couldn’t tell me,” she said, frowning. “Is the difference between Marcus Pike and Marcus Moreno so big that it would affect our relationship?”

Marcus sighed. “Do you really want to know?” When she nodded, he confessed, “I didn’t tell you because...I didn’t want to lose you.”

Her gaze softened. “What?”

“I was afraid that if you saw me as Marcus Pike, you’d  only ever see me as a friend,” he explained. “And he is me…. But the way you looked at Marcus Moreno was all I ever wanted. It was everything I wished I could have back and more. The most painful part of leaving Pike behind was losing you. It was losing the chance to tell you how I felt, and to see where we could’ve gone together.” He stepped closer, and this time she didn’t flinch away when he touched her. “It was selfish, I know. I’m sorry. But I promise you, Erin, my honeydew, my feelings for you are real. They always were. No amount of name changes and secret identities can change that.”

Unable to stop herself, Erin threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. “I missed you so much.”

He held her close and stroked her hair, basking in her warmth. “I missed you too.”

“You’re an idiot, though,” she said, clinging to him as if he would disappear if she let go. “I would’ve said yes whether or not you were Pike.”

“But?”

“But, that doesn’t mean I’m not mad,” she said. A wave of humiliation crashed over her. “If you were anyone else, I’d be gone.”

“I know,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad, and I don’t blame you if you want some space.”

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” she said softly, wincing as her head started throbbing. “I...I want space, but I’m afraid I'll lose you again. I’m mad, but I’m also….glad that my best friend is alive and well.”

“You can stay for the night, if you want,” Marcus offered, searching her gold-flecked eyes. He braced himself for the rejection, for her to scoff and storm out of his house. But it never happened.

Once everything was put away in the kitchen, they made their way up to his bedroom and got ready for bed. Sharing the bathroom as they brushed their teeth and washed their faces felt odd. Why did it feel like they’d been robbed of years of their life?

He didn’t regret marrying his late wife–no, never–but the more he and Erin spent time together, the more aware he was of just how much things could’ve been different. Everything he had was because he couldn’t tell a woman he loved her eight years ago.

Nestled against him, Erin sighed. “You don’t have to go with me on the undercover op. This job...it’s important and I can’t afford to be distracted.”

He shook his head. “No, I promised you I’d go. Everything will be alright, honey.” The familiar weight of her body against his soothed his nerves, even after everything. “I’m sorry we lost so much time. I’ll make it up to you.”

Erin didn’t respond.

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[awed-frog]

Hello! I see that people are asking you about diets right now. I started living independently fairy recently, and I still haven't figured out an ideal way of feeding myself. Not sure if my autism plays a role here, or if it's just me being inexperienced, but would you maybe happen to have any advice for NT people regarding food? Like how I can get myself to eat enough fruits + vegetables and how I can keep from eating the same two dishes for the rest of my life (I WILL, if I don't pay attention)

Hi, thanks for the message! I’d say first of all take it easy, planning your meals + groceries is harder than people think, especially in the beginning. Just remember not to buy too much (produce will go bad, stuff like flour will develop flies) and take it easy. I can suggest a few things:

1) If you can, get good cooking appliances, especially a rice cooker or multicooker or Instant Pot, depending on where you live and what’s available. A rice cooker is a good option because they’re generally cheap, but most of them can only handle white rice, which isn’t the most nutritious meal. I finally got myself a multicooker two years ago and I’m really happy. You may have to experiment a bit in the beginning, but it halves the time you spend in the kitchen, can reheat food, and also makes things like bread and yogurt.

2) If you have a freezer, use the hell out of it. The best option for varying your meals is to always cook twice the portion and freeze half. If you don’t have a big freezer, remember that most vegan meals will also keep fairly well in the fridge for a couple of days, so you could eat your delicious meal both on Thursday night and for lunch on Saturday, which is Not Bad. You can also look up ways to freeze vegetables and fruits - I started keeping batches readily available to add to soups, stir-frys, and fruit purees/smoothies.

3) Be realistic. Like, unless you’re a Michelin cook, you’ll need some time to learn a new or complicated recipe, so start trying on a Saturday and give yourself a few tries. And if you get home really late, you probably won’t want to spend two hours in the kitchen, so either prep your meals beforehand (you can find tons of good advice online), or keep some ingredients for a quick meal (like a pesto sauce or ready-made dips).

4) Pantry, pantry, pantry. Most cookbooks will have a pantry list in the first pages, and those are the first things you need to buy. Remember that if you keep the same old recipe but swap out ingredients, you’ll magically have different dishes and you’ll get a lot of nutritional benefits because you’re eating different stuff! For instance, for a quick meal you can make hummus but use borlotti beans instead of chickpeas, or peanut butter instead of tahini. Why not? God is not watching. 

5) Change up your greens. For your produce: if you live on your own, don’t buy too much, and choose variety instead. For instance: weekly, only buy two kinds of fruits (one perishable you’ll eat first, like stone fruits or berries, and one that’ll last longer, like bananas, apples or pears) and three kinds of vegetables (one cruciferous: cauliflower or broccoli, for instance; one root: turnips or carrots or sweet potatoes; and one leafy green: spinach, Swiss chards, kale and so on), plus mushrooms (a nutritional godsend and very yummy) + onions and garlic. Add whatever salad material is in season (summer or winter greens, zucchini, beets, avocado) and you’re basically all set. By thinking in terms of categories instead of specific foods, you’ll ensure variety without too much effort.

6) Stick to easy cooking. As for meals: you don’t actually need a lot of fancy recipes. Find two or three things you like to cook, and repeat them twice or three times a week. By alternating your lunches and dinners, and swapping out ingredients a bit (one evening rice, the other barley, for instance; one lunch roasted pumpkin, the next one roasted Brussel sprouts) you can cook on autopilot while still ensuring you’re getting your nutrients and don’t get bored.

7) Cheat. If you struggle to eat your veggies, there are tricks you can use. For instance, smoothies and soups are good ways to eat tons of stuff fairly easily. If you eat cheese, it will make anything taste good - although garlic has the same effect and zero bad fats. Nutritional yeast is also something most people love. Adding finely chopped veggies to a normal tomato pasta sauce is another way of hiding a few greens without much effort. You can find a lot of recipes for ‘hidden’ fruits and veggies by looking up parenting tips - and remember that the way you cook stuff also changes the flavour considerably, so if you don’t like steamed zucchini, try roasting them, or adding them to a stir-fry, a soufflé, a savoury bread and so on.

8) No rules apply. And finally, remember you’re an adult now, and if you decide that you want to try miso soup and fried rice for breakfast, or that Friday night is ice-cream-instead-of-dinner night, that’s perfectly alright. You don’t have to cook for yourself for every single meal, or stick to your own culture and family traditions for what is acceptable to do.

Also: a slightly unethical life tip. On b-ok, you’ll find most cookbooks that exist - for free. If you need ideas, you can look up a book on Amazon, see if it looks good, then download it on b-ok. I’d suggest trying three or four recipes and if you like them - and can afford it - buying the real book to support the author. I sometimes do this because you can’t always tell at a glance if a cookbook is what you’re looking for or not, so this makes it easier to decide what to buy.

Good luck and happy cooking!

[hairringtonsteve]

and they were roommates.

[steve harrington x reader]

summary: The shit hit the fan, and you need to find a place to stay. Steve Harrington, being the knight in shining armor that he is, offers to let you crash at his place during the quarantine. Clearly, feelings ensue. 

word count: 3,704

a/n: Hey guys. I’m back. The world is a little bit scarier than it was before, but we’re here and we’re getting through it. I need to emphasize that while this fic is lighthearted, it’s not me making fun of the situation. This last week has been excruciatingly stressful for me as well as the rest of us, and honestly, I just need some fluff. So here’s to you and Steve being stuck in an apartment together. Informational links will be located in the first reblog.

**********

“Do we stockpile toilet paper?”

You snorted in response, assuming that he was kidding. Instead of bothering to look at him, you kept your eyes on the Netflix menu, scrolling through the list of horror movies as you tried to ignore the anxiety building in your gut.

If someone had told you at the beginning of the year that you would end up being stuck living in Steve Harrington’s apartment for who knows how long because of a global pandemic, you would have laughed.

But who could have guessed that it would happen? Who could have guessed that your college would shut down and shift everything online, that you wouldn’t be able to fly back home because flights were too expensive? Who could have guessed that Steve Harrington would somehow have perfect timing and walk by just as you burst into tears over flight costs?

“No really, do we stockpile toilet paper?”

You ignored him and kept scrolling.

Really, though, his timing had been perfect. You’d been searching Google for the last twenty minutes, trying to find a flight back home when the cheapest flight out was still over two thousand dollars. Sitting on the steps of your college building – the one that had become like a second home to you since the dorms were awful – you’d shoved your head into your hands and cried.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Steve had asked. You didn’t bother to look up at him, instead opting to take in deep, calming breaths. “You good?” He sat down beside you, not bothering to keep his distance.

The news had been telling everyone to practice social distancing, but it was hard when you were suddenly hit with the reality that you probably wouldn’t see most of these people again. Everyone had thought that you wouldn’t start the I’m graduating college goodbyes until May.

“Oh, you know,” you began as you lifted your head up but didn’t look at him. Your voice was watery as you spoke. “Global pandemic and all that. I’m fine.” Steve leaned over your shoulder to get a glance at your phone.

“Fuck, that’s rough. You trying to get home?”

You’d gotten the email the night before. Sitting in the common area of your building despite the fact that your classes had ended hours ago, the group from your department had all sat at the various tables in shocked silence. Students out of the dorms within ten days unless there were extenuating circumstances. They hadn’t defined what those circumstances would have to consist of, but you knew deep down that you wouldn’t qualify.

“Yeah, I uh… My mom can’t afford it and neither can I.” A new wave of tears started to sting at your eyes. A few made their way down your cheeks. “I’ve got ten days, though. I can figure it out.”

Steve sighed. You finally looked over to him. The tears made him a little blurry.

“My roommate is flying out tonight,” he said. He looked forward before looking back to you. “I’m sure he’d be cool with you crashing in his room until shit gets sorted out.”

You stared at him. Your throat got thicker. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to hold back the sob that wanted to burst through at the offer. Instead of saying anything, you gave him a short nod.

Within an hour the two of you were packing up your dorm room, throwing everything into whatever luggage you had. You hauled the luggage and everything else that couldn’t fit down the four flights of stairs and tossed it into his car. His two-bedroom apartment was a fifteen-minute drive away. There had been a quick goodbye to his roommate – who didn’t know what was going on until you had gotten there – and that was that.

“Toilet paper, Y/N. Do we need it?” A hint of annoyance was coloring his words and you finally shifted around on the couch, twisting your neck far enough so you could see him. He was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, already holding two packs of toilet paper, eight rolls in each.

“Dude, seriously?”

“What? What if we use it all up?”

“Then we go to the store and get more.”

“What if they put us under martial law and we’re not allowed to go anywhere?”

“Then we’ll figure that out. But we have enough for now. We’re not hoarding toilet paper like the rest of the assholes out there.” He tilted his head back and groaned. “Steve, c’mon. It’s fine. It’ll—” You were interrupted by your phone beeping, alerting you to a text. You ignored it. It was probably your mom, checking in. Again. “Steve, it’ll be okay. We’ll have enough toilet paper. We just need to go get food and beer, and we’ll go from there.”

Steve stared at you. “But what if one of us gets diahre—”

“Okay, that’s it. Get your shoes on. We’re heading to the store, dumbass.”

Steve grinned. “Wow, dumbass? It’s like we’re back in biochem.”

You snorted and got up from your spot on the couch, heading to where you’d taken off your sneakers near the door. You’d placed them next to his. It hit you, that your sneakers and his sneakers would be right there for the foreseeable future because of… everything that was going on. You swallowed, the anxiety that had been settled in your gut for over a week now threatening to rise to your throat. But you sucked in a deep breath, willing yourself to keep calm.

Things were fine. It would be okay.

Steve came up beside you and reached down to shove his shoes on. When he righted himself, he bumped his shoulder against yours and grinned.

“Think the beer will be gone?”

*****

The grocery store looked like it was ransacked. The toilet paper and baby wipes were off the shelves. People had grocery carts piled high with nonperishables and whatever else they could get their hands on.

You and Steve locked eyes without a word. His fingers thrummed against the railing of the last grocery cart that had been available while he raised a brow at you. You nodded and the two of you headed straight for the alcohol.

It took twice as long as usual to walk the length of the store to get to the far corner where they held the beer and liquor. Not surprisingly, the area was filled with mostly college-age looking people trying to get their hands on whatever would get them adequately fucked up for the next few weeks.

Steve cleared his throat and nodded towards the beer, the one that everyone had been studiously avoiding. “Should we get some?” He waggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes. “No, that stuff tastes like piss.” He laughed and pushed the cart forward, stopping to get a case of Angry Orchard. “You like that stuff?”

“No, but it’s your favorite, right?”

You nodded as you tried to remember when he would have been able to figure that out. The first time that you’d met was last fall, when you had the same biochemistry lab together. “Yeah?”

“I thought so. I remember you mentioning something about it the night all of us went out after our final in December.”

That had been over three months ago. But everyone in the lab had gone out for drinks to celebrate making it through finals week. At the time, you’d exchanged a handful of words at most. Hell, you hadn’t even mentioned that it was your favorite directly to him. Something shifted in your chest.

Weird.

After that, things grew quieter between the two of you as you made your way systematically through the store. With the alcohol, you got some staples, some favorites, making sure to take into consideration the fact that there would probably be a few nights where the two of you would drink enough to kill a horse. After that, you started to make your way through the food aisles, getting whatever was left over. While most of it was taken, you got the important stuff: bread, vegetables, fruit, meat, peanut butter. Things were scarce, but you got through it.

And the whole time, your stomach was sinking further and further down.

Things weren’t supposed to go this way. All you could think about was the day prior as your professors had said their goodbyes to the students, everyone trying to keep a brave face. Rationally, you knew that things would eventually be fine. But it was hard to keep that in mind when it felt like the beginning of an apocalypse movie.

“—You good to go?”

“Huh?” You looked over to Steve, blinking. At some point, the two of you had made it to the front of the store.

He smiled, soft and understanding. “I asked if you were good to go. We should probably get in line. They’re just getting longer.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” It took a few minutes to try to find the shortest line (if you could call any of them short. You glanced towards the front of the line, watching as the over-worked cashiers struggled to keep everyone happy. Looking back to Steve, you leaned against the grocery cart. “Have I thanked you yet for letting me crash at your place?”

“Only about ten times, but I haven’t figured out that you’re appreciative yet, so you could go for eleven.” You laughed and rolled your eyes as the line moved forward about an inch.

“Seriously, Steve. Thank you. You didn’t have to offer.”

Steve shrugged. “I kind of did. I can’t live alone.”

You scoffed. “You think we can live together and not want to murder each other?”

Steve shrugged once more. “As long as you let me win at Mario Party, we’ll be fine.”

The anxiety in your chest eased up a little. Maybe staying with Steve wouldn’t be too bad.

***** 

As it turned out, being around Steve Harrington constantly was a lot to handle. He was adamant that the two of you worked together daily on your coursework. He’d said that it was to make it just like being on campus as much as possible, but the two of you knew that it was really just an excuse to bicker over homework and steal each other’s pens.

It was weird, knowing these little intimate details about him that you only find out when you live with someone. He sang while he did the dishes. He never made his bed and left video game cases strewn throughout the living room. He had a habit of falling asleep on the couch in the most uncomfortable positions. He preferred tea to coffee, sweet to savory, and had a weird lack of movie knowledge. He also played a lot of Fortnite with a bunch of kids from his hometown.

When you asked him about it, he’d just shrugged and said: “I’m a really great babysitter, what can I say?”

To which you’d heard, muffled through his headset, a boy’s voice shriek, “Bullshit Steve!”

The biggest problem, though, was that he was starting to get to you.

Objectively, you’d understood that he was conventionally attractive. A guy with hair that nice couldn’t be wholly unattractive.

It was just that it didn’t really hit you until two days into quarantine. You wandered around out of your room, too occupied with replying to a text to keep yourself from running into a shirtless Steve, complete with a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping from his hair.

His hands wrapped themselves around your arms as he pushed you back a little, making sure that both you remained upright. The two of you locked eyes. You were close enough that you could see the little flecks of gold in them. 

Oh. 

Oh.

Your stomach flipped and suddenly you were acutely aware of him. Your eyes started to slide from his face – taking in his nose, his jawline, his mouth – to his chest when he let out a choked sort of noise.

“Please don’t look down,” he said, his voice higher than you’d ever heard it before. You looked back up at him, scrunching up your brow. “The towel fell and I… Naked.”

There were maybe three seconds of silence before you burst out laughing. You took a step back, clapping a hand over your eyes as you struggled to breathe. 

There you were, in the middle of quarantine during a global pandemic, and Steve Harrington was naked and dripping wet in front of you. 

“Just shut it, okay?”

You tried to stifle the laughter, but it just turned into muffled giggles. “You good to go there, Harrington?” You could hear a bunch of shuffling along with some muttered swearing before eventually, he gave the okay for you to look. Your hand dropped from your face and the laughter died out as you got a good look at his chest. 

It took him clearing his throat for you to meet his eyes once more. He was looking at you with an intense look on his face. His tongue darted across his lips as he took a step towards you. Your heart thudded in your chest and just as he took another step forward and then — 

A knock at the door. 

The two of you jerked back. You almost knocked your head into a shelf while Steve said that he’d get the door. You watched as he stepped forward, raising an eyebrow in silence as he turned back to you, a sheepish look on his face. 

“Did you just now realize that you’re…” You trailed off as you waved your hand up and down to motion towards the towel. He nodded, his cheeks growing red. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get it.” 

He’d scurried down the hall to change while you opened the door to one of Steve’s neighbors clad in a mask, asking if you guys had any extra toilet paper.

You got the elderly man two rolls and waited for Steve to come back out of his bedroom.

He didn’t come out for the rest of the night.

That was twelve days ago and since then, the two of you had been avoiding each other like�� well... the plague.

Instead, Steve would walk into the kitchen, only to see you and abruptly turn around to walk out. You would head into the living room to watch Netflix and immediately try to leave when he was playing the PlayStation. When the two of you did talk, it was weird. Stunted.

“What do you want for dinner?” 

“Whatever you want.” 

A beat of silence. 

“Cool.” 

On and on it went, both of you hole-ing up in your respective rooms while trying to avoid the other. You even took turns doing the grocery shopping.  

The worst part about it, though, was how aware you were of him. When you walked by him in the hallway, your senses honed in on the way your arms brushed. When he was leaning against the counter and shoving his fingers through his hair, your gaze would somehow magnetically drawn towards looking at him regardless of what was on the TV. 

You had to shove your face into a pillow every time you heard the shower turn on.

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. Crushes – and that’s what this was, a full-blown crush – were awful to begin with. They were inconvenient and distracting in the best of times. But this? This was downright torture. Utter and complete torture. You felt like you were going to snap at any moment, ready to combust at a second’s notice.

And then you got the alert on your phone. You were sat on the counter, a spoonful of peanut butter shoved halfway in your mouth. Your thumb flicked the notification bar down as you read the headline. It wasn’t anything different, just an update on the virus spread and the estimated time that it would take for things to calm down.

But that meant that you would be there longer.  That meant that you would be in that apartment longer, having to go through silence and awkwardness and who knows what else for an “indeterminate amount of time.” Something inside you snapped. You hopped down from the counter, chucked the spoon of peanut butter into the sink, and hurried down the hall towards his bedroom.

After around five hurried knocks, the door swung open. He had a panicked look in his eyes as he stared down at you. “What? What’s going on? Did something happen?” He was frantic as he stared down at you. 

“What?” 

“You knocked like someone important just died, and I missed it. What’s going on?” 

“I — I just wanted to talk?” 

Steve blinked at you. “We’re… There’s a global disaster going on and you choose to knock like that so we can talk?”

“Steve, I knocked on your door. It’s not that big of a deal.” 

“There’s knocking on a door, and then there’s whatever the hell you did.” He stepped outside of his room, causing you to step back as well to give him some space. “So this —” He knocked against his door three times, slow and not too hard. “-- Is how normal people knock. And this —” There he knocked hard and fast against the wood, exaggerating how hard you’d knocked. “Is how you knocked. Now clearly, there is a difference and you almost gave me a heart attack.” 

“You’re dramatic.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “So what’s up?” He crossed his arms and quirked a brow.

You heaved in a breath and started rambling.

“I — Look, I get it if things were weird because I practically saw you naked but we’re in the middle of a fucking pandemic and I’m stuck in your apartment for who knows how long and I can’t keep avoiding you like this. It’s weird, Steve.” 

He just stared at you and didn’t say a word. So you kept rambling. 

“I get it that you’re really stressed out and I am too, but Steve, this is just making things worse? And like, honestly it’s not that big of a deal. You were shirtless. It was fine. More than fine, actually. Like, it’s cool. It’s —” 

“More than fine?” 

You stared at him. “What?” 

“You just said that me being shirtless was not only fine but more than fine.” 

You could feel your cheeks begin to warm. “I don’t — I —” 

Steve took a step forward. “Is me being shirtless more than fine with you?” 

You gaped at him, frozen. 

“Do you like me being shirtless?” There was a smirk on his face now, as though your silence was enough of an answer. 

“Steve, I —” He took another step forward, right in your space. He leaned down a little. Your heart was pounding in your chest. 

 “You like me shirtless.” He wasn’t asking anymore. Your rational brain wasn’t working. You opened your mouth to reply something, anything, and what came out was: 

“We’re supposed to self-distance.”

Steve froze, eyes wide, and took a step back. “Did I — Did I misread? I thought—” 

You tried to shake your head, hoping that he’d notice, but he was too caught up in the panic of thinking that he’d misread everything and crossed a boundary. So you did the next best thing. 

(Really, the thing that you should have done a week ago.)

You reached out, fingers grasping at his shirt and tugged him towards you. You rolled up onto the tips of your toes and pressed your lips against his. He froze, his words falling silent. Your heart was pounding so hard that you feared it would come out of your chest. Slowly, his hands fell to your waist as his lips began to move. He pulled you closer to him, all thoughts of social distancing falling away as you kissed. 

Eventually, he pulled away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “We’re supposed to self-distance?” He asked, a slow grin spreading across his features. You rolled your eyes and tried to pull back, but he gripped your waist a little tighter, keeping you there. 

“I panicked, okay? You just — I just didn’t expect it to go that way.” He didn’t respond verbally, instead just raising his brow. “It’s been weird not talking to you and being here. And I didn’t mean to say that about you being shirtless, it just kind of slipped out.” 

“Why are you acting like that wasn’t okay? Y/N, you know I’ve liked you since the first day of biochem.” 

You blinked. 

“Seriously, you had to have known. I was hung up on you.”

You blinked again. 

“Y/N, I laughed at all of your terrible jokes in lab. I… offered to let you stay in my apartment during the quarantine.” While he’d started off laughing, by the second sentence, he was speaking slow and soft, enunciating every word. You opened your mouth to reply when he continued. “I let you win at Mario Party, come on. You’re terrible at that.” 

Whatever thoughts of acknowledging his feelings flew out of your head at that. “Excuse you, I am great at Mario Party. I kicked your ass at that the first two days that we were here.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I purposefully lost to make you feel better.” Your expression softened at his words. He pulled away just a little — his hands still on your waist — to stare up at the ceiling. “You were stressed about your mom constantly texting and I know that it’s hard for you to not be with your family. So I just wanted to make it easier on you.” He looked back down at you. 

Warmth bloomed in your chest. 

You smiled up at him as you searched for the right thing to say in response. But it was hard. There weren’t words to convey just how thankful you were for that. You leaned up to press your lips against his once more. After a moment, you pulled back just enough to look at him and grinned. 

“So, you want to go play some Mario Party?”

[searchingwardrobes]

The Christmas Wish: 2/4

This fic is first and foremost a gift for @snowbellewells​, so of course it has to include a few of her favorite things. Chapter one had Captain Cobra, Daddy Charming, and Emma naming her son Graham. This chapter includes more of the first two and a favorite character of Marta’s in a way I hope she enjoys. Merry Christmas, my fandom twin! And many thanks to my beta, @kmomof4​ !

I also should warn that this is a bit of a slow burn, so don’t get too comfortable with the end of this chapter ;)

Summary: Emma leaned forward, closed her eyes, and a wish bubbled up unbidden from the depths of her heart. “I wish I could just have a simple, domestic life. Is that even in the cards for me?” Breath left her on an exhale just as the wish floated through her mind, and the candle blew out. The “answer” to her wish had to be some kind of trick, however. After all, it wasn’t as if anything in the vision she received could ever in a million years be real. It was ridiculous. Captain Hook, the father of three driving a minivan? Impossible.

Rated G for Hallmark movie levels of fluff and Christmas feels

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals:  @teamhook​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @bethacaciakay​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @welllpthisishappening​​ @optomisticgirl​​ @hookedonapirate​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​ @spartanguard​​ @let-it-raines​​ @tiganasummertree​​ @vvbooklady1256​​ @scientificapricot​​ @superchocovian​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​ @ohmakemeahercules​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @jrob64​​ @wellhellotragic​​ @winterbythesea​​ @winterbaby89​​ @lfh1226-linda​​ @carpedzem​​ @thesschesthair​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @cutieodonoghue​​ @justbecauseyoubelievesomething​​ @juliakaze​​  @thisonesatellite​​ @therealstartraveller776​​ @thislassishooked​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @killian-whump​

Chapter Two: Hope

“You’re being awfully quiet.”

Emma barely registered her father’s words as he drove them back to Granny’s. Her mind was still reeling from what she had seen.

“I mean, I’m glad your vision is back,” David continued, his words trailing off.

Emma turned in her seat to look at him. “It is, and I’m fine. Really.”

He glanced at her with concern in his eyes. “What did that doctor do? You seemed pretty upset.”

Emma rubbed at her temple wearily. “She gave me some drops, and my vision cleared. That’s all. It was just so sudden, it sort of freaked me out.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. What caused it to begin with? Did she have you make a follow up appointment?”

She started to open her mouth to protest again that everything was fine, but then she quickly changed her tactic. “Yeah, actually, she did. I’m going back in a few days.”

David’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a sigh of relief. Emma rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and gave him an affectionate squeeze.

“It was just stress, lack of sleep, and probably the shock my system got when my memories came back.” She forced herself to chuckle, and David managed to smile.

“In that case, you need to rest.”

She started to protest as he turned the truck towards Granny’s instead of towards the sheriff’s station, but the words died on her lips. Partly from her father’s stern glare and partly with the thought that time off to rest also meant time with Henry. She still worried about where the witch was hiding out, who cast this new curse, and a dozen other fairy tale related problems, but in this moment, worry for her son and their relationship won out. After all, it was Christmas. Emma pulled out her phone to call him.

“Mom! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, kid, everything’s fine. I can see again.”

“Thank God,” Henry sighed. He turned away from the phone to talk to Hook, then came back on the line. “Killian is happy too.”

A vivid image of the way he smiled at her in that vision floated across her mind, but Emma shook it away.

“Tell him thanks,” she said, her voice strained, “for everything, and that we’re pulling into Granny’s as I speak.”

“Oh, um . . . about that. We went out.”

“You did? Where?”

“Come on, Mom, it’s Christmas. I gotta have some secrets.”

Emma couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips. “Shopping already? I haven’t even started yet.”

Come to think of it, she’d better get on that. Did Amazon deliver to Storybrooke? Because unless Henry wanted a gift that was vintage, online shopping would be her only option.

“Um, you could say that,” Henry answered cryptically. “Killian says to call before you head back to our room, okay?”

Hmmm, that was suspicious. “Okay, whatever you say.” She hung up and looked back at her father with a grin. “Well, looks like I’m on my own for a bit. Have you had breakfast yet?”

David smiled back. “No, I was too worried about my daughter.”

“Well, your daughter’s fine, so how about some of Granny’s pancakes?”

“You’re on.”

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

Emma had lingered over pancakes with David for an hour before Henry called her back. Now she was heading upstairs to their rooms, her curiosity mounting with each step. She could hear Henry’s voice and Hook’s as she reached for the doorknob, but she didn’t announce her presence. They didn’t notice her when she first entered the room, and she froze near the door at the sight before her eyes. Killian saw her first.

“Surprise!” he exclaimed as a beaming smile filled his face. He was wedged between the window and a slender douglas fir. Needles littered the carpet and boxes were stacked haphazardly all around her son and the pirate, boxes of brand new ornaments - balls of red, green, and gold. A strand of colored lights encircled the tree, and Killian’s hook was adjusting a golden star that sat upon the highest bough.

“Mom!” Henry exclaimed. “Isn’t it awesome? I was telling Killian about what I missed about Christmas in New York, so we decided to surprise you. I mean, we can’t have Christmas without a tree.”

Emma was positively speechless, and she knew her mouth was hanging open. Henry’s eyes narrowed with concern.

“I mean, you are surprised, right Mom?”

Emma shook her head and smiled at her son. “Of course I’m surprised. Thrilled.”

“Well,” Killian said brightly, “you’re just in time for the big moment.”

Henry came to stand beside her, slipping his arm around her waist. Killian bent and picked up the end of the cord of lights and plugged it into the nearest outlet. For a moment, the big colored bulbs flickered to light, but then there was a loud pop, sparks flashed from the outlet, and the bottom branches of the tree were suddenly orange with flames. All three of them shouted, and Emma dashed for the mini fridge to grab a bottle of water while Killian yanked the cord out of the wall. He swore loudly as a shock went through his hand. Emma threw the water at the tree. Luckily, only one branch had sparked and the water was enough to put out the flames. Unfortunately, it was enough to trigger the room’s smoke alarm.

Emma tossed aside the water bottle and leapt onto the sofa nearest the alarm. She grabbed her scarf from where she’d discarded it when she came in, and waved it at the alarm. Killian opened the window while Henry tried to wave the smoke outside.

And that was how Granny found them.

“What the hell are you doing to my inn?”

They all answered her simultaneously, shouting over the alarm that was still blaring.

“It’s nothing.”

“The fire’s been doused.”

“It was these old lights!”

Granny crossed her arms to glare at them just as the smoke alarm finally ceased its screeching. Emma dropped the scarf, but she was still on top of the sofa. With her boots on. Killian and Henry still stood sheepishly in front of the window, and a frigid breeze blew through the room.

“I told Killian these lights didn’t look good,” Henry finally spoke up, “but it’s all the drug store had. I mean look at these things, they look like they’ve been sitting on the shelf since 1983.”

They probably had.

“Did I say you could have a tree in here?” Granny demanded.

Hook scratched behind his ear while tossing his most charming grin Granny’s way. “I didn’t think you would deny the boy a proper Christmas.”

Granny deflated at that, then rolled her eyes. “Fine. But no lights, okay. It’s a fire hazard.”

They all mumbled their agreement to the conditions as Granny left, shutting the door firmly behind her. Then they all glanced at one another tentatively. Emma looked at poor Henry’s and Hook’s pitiful expressions, then at the charred bottom corner of the tree, and she suddenly burst into hysterical laughter. It took them a minute, but Henry and Killian joined her merriment. Henry collapsed next to her on the couch, laughing, as Killian shut the window.

“Well,” he told them, a chuckle coloring his voice as he took in the tree, “It’s not too bad, considering we burned half of it.”

Emma wiped away tears of laughter. “You didn’t burn half of it, only about . . . a fifth of it?”

“Not even,” Henry disagreed, “maybe a tenth of it.”

They all dissolved into laughter again, but when Killian joined them on the sofa, Emma sobered. She suddenly remembered the words of the little girl in her vision.

Mama did Daddy really almost burn down Granny’s when he got you a Christmas tree?

Oh, shit.

“You okay, Swan?” Killian asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

It’s okay, Emma, calm down. So he got you a Christmas tree. That caught on fire. At Granny’s. It means nothing. I mean you’d never in a million years buy an ugly Christmas sweater, much less wear one . . . .

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

Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that the other shoe was about to drop. Things had been way too calm the past week, and Emma highly doubted that the Wicked Witch of the West was simply feeling the holiday spirit.

“We’re going to find her, love.”

Emma’s head snapped up at Killian’s words, and he arched a brow at her over the rim of his coffee mug. After taking a sip, he set his coffee down and studied her with an open expression.

“And when we do,” he continued, “you will defeat her.”

Emma snorted. “Why? Because I’m the Savior?”

“No. Because you’re tough and brilliant, and as I said in Neverland, I have yet to see you fail.”

Emma couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks at his praise, and she ran the tines of her fork through the syrup on her breakfast plate. Regina and Robin were taking Roland ice skating, and had asked if Henry wanted to come. Emma was relieved when he had jumped at the invitation. She had never seen such a vulnerable expression on the Evil Queen’s face.

She and Killian were lingering over breakfast in Henry’s absence, nursing their second cups of coffee, and while Emma was slightly surprised at how comfortable it was to be here with him like this, tension still wouldn’t leave the set of her shoulders. It was that damn other shoe - hovering over their heads like a storm cloud.

“I just feel like we should be doing something,” she grumbled, dropping her fork with a clatter.

“We’ve done all we can,” Killian tried to encourage her. “We’ve searched every inch of the forest and found nothing.”

“Then maybe we should interview everyone in town who’s new . . . “ She trailed off as she thought about the mysterious triplets who had already messed with her mind.

“Just enjoy the season, Emma.”

“You’re starting to sound like my parents.”

“Well, you hero types are rubbing off on me I suppose,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re a hero now, too.”

He lowered his gaze into his cup of coffee. “I’m not so sure about that, love.”

“You came to find me in New York, didn’t you?”

Before he could respond to that fact, Granny appeared in front of their booth holding two Christmas packages in her hands. Emma and Killian exchanged nervous glances, unsure if the woman was still pissed at them over the Christmas tree fiasco.

“I just wanted to say no hard feelings,” Granny told them in her no-nonsense way. “I know you were just trying to give Henry a decent Christmas, and it’s Hooks first in this realm, so . . . Anyway, I got you both something.”

She thrust a rectangular package into Emma’s arms and a square one into Killian’s. Both were wrapped in bright paper and decorated with ribbons and bows. The smile on Killian’s face was filled with childlike wonder as he eagerly made quick work of the wrapping with his hook.

“Did you make this for me, Mrs. Lucas?” Killian exclaimed when he saw the contents of the box.

“Of course I made it. I noticed you didn’t have one, and Maine winters can get mighty cold.”

Emma almost spit her next sip of coffee across the table when Killian pulled a gray wool beanie out of the box. Her jaw almost hit the formica when he actually plopped the beanie onto his head and pulled it down over the tips of his ears. His dark hair curled around the edges of it, and Emma was surprised to find herself thinking how cute he was. Captain Hook was cute. He really, really was, especially with that goofy smile on his face that cut wide dimples into his cheeks. Emma hugged her own gift to her chest.

“Thank you,” Killian humbly told Granny.

The women glanced at Emma, who was almost crushing her gift and didn’t seem to plan on relinquishing it anytime soon. She just couldn’t stop staring at the man across from her.

“Well,” Granny said briskly, “I’ve got things to see to in the kitchen.”

“What do you think?” Killian asked her. “How do I look?”

“It . . . um . . . it covers your ears.”

Killian tugged gently at one side of the hat and then the other. “Well, those tend to get cold the quickest.”

“I like your ears.” Why was she whispering?

She expected him to get cocky and toss some innuendo her way, but instead, he blushed and scratched behind one of those adorable ears of his. “Well, uh, you would be the first.”

“But why? They’re cute!”

“They’re pointed.”

“That’s what makes them cute.”

He was blushing and she loved it. “I got teased as a boy for them.”

“Kids can be mean. Are you part elf by any chance?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

She shrugged. “Around here, you never know.”

“True.” He cleared his throat as he removed the hat. His hair stuck up in all directions, and that was cute too. He gestured towards her gift. “Open yours, love.”

“Oh, right.” She tore off the paper and ribbons, then set the box down on the table. When she lifted the lid, she froze.

“Okay, so that’s . . . interesting,” Killian murmured as he leaned over to see.

Lying there in the box in front of Emma was an ugly Christmas sweater. Of a Christmas tree. With pom pom balls decorating it. Just like in her vision.

“Oh you opened it!” Granny exclaimed as she suddenly appeared at Emma’s side. “I heard they’re all the rage right now.”

“They are?” Killian asked hesitantly. Emma could understand his confusion.

“It’s an ugly Christmas sweater,” she explained.

Killian blanched. “Emma, that’s rude.”

Granny laughed. “No, it’s ugly on purpose, Captain.”

“So this is another tradition of this holiday? To clothe oneself in ugly garments?”

Emma couldn’t help giggling at his confused expression and the way he so eloquently expressed it. “I know it sounds weird, but Granny’s right. People buy the ugliest Christmas sweater they can find, then they go to a party where everyone votes on which one is the ugliest.”

“And Snow and Ruby and I have decided to throw an ugly Christmas sweater party here in the diner on Christmas Eve!” Granny announced with obvious excitement.

“Well, Swan,” Killian told her with a crooked smile, “you might just be a shoe-in for the grand prize.”

Emma’s hands shook and her smile wobbled as she ran her fingers over the green wool. Mama, you have to wear the tree shirt to get the tree. Its ta-dition! Emma remembered her swollen belly straining against the very sweater in front of her, and suddenly the diner felt claustrophobic.

“Excuse me,” she apologized as she leapt up, practically shoved Granny out of the way, and took off down the hall towards the inn. She ignored the cries of concern from both Killian and Granny, not slowing down until she was in her rooms on the third floor. As the door shut behind her, she was glad Henry was gone. She slid to the floor, her legs unable to hold her. First the tree, now the beanie and the ugly Christmas sweater? What the hell was going on?

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

The other shoe had dropped. Emma would have said I told you so, but that seemed a little cruel when they had discovered that The Wicked Witch was her mother’s midwife and had some creepy plans for her baby brother.

She, Regina, and Killian were at the library where Belle was helping them research spells that involved babies. Not Emma’s preferred way to spend the 18th of December. Most people would be attending an office party or caroling or baking cookies, not reading up on creepy things witches like to do to innocent babies.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Emma announced, slamming shut yet another dusty tome. “I want to go back to the inn and watch A Charlie Brown Christmas with Henry while drinking hot cocoa. The exact opposite of this.”

“I agree,” Regina concurred, rubbing wearily at her forehead. “Let’s take a break and reconvene in the morning.”

“Thank God,” Killian added, pushing back from the table and standing up.

They marked their places and stacked the books on a cart for the morning. Then they all donned their winter gear and headed for the door so Belle could lock up. Regina hurried down the snowy sidewalk to her car, but Emma paused as she watched Belle searching for the right key.

“You coming, Swan?” Killian asked, turning as he stepped out on the sidewalk.

“Just a minute. I need to ask Belle something. Can you help Henry get the cocoa and I’ll be there in a bit?”

“As you wish,” he told her softly with a slight bow of his head.

She smiled as he walked away, that phrase never ceasing to make her heart flutter. Then she turned back to Belle.

“Um, could I ask you to look up something for me?” She asked the librarian hesitantly.

“Something else about the witch?”

“Uh, no, this is . . . private.”

“Okay,” Belle said, curiosity coloring her tone.

“There are these triplets,” Emma began, “who came with the new curse, and I need to figure out who they are in the Enchanted Forest. You know, who their . . . fairy tale personas are?”

Belle smiled. “Not everyone is a famous character you know.”

“Believe me, these women are somebody . . . magical. I’ve seen their powers for myself.”

“Is everything alright?” Belle asked with concern.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. They think they’re helping me, I guess. I mean, I think. It’s complicated.”

Her face burned as she stammered, and Emma prayed that Belle wouldn’t press her further.

“Alright, well, who are they? Here in Storybrooke, I mean.”

“Felicity Clotho who owns the new cupcakery, Liv Lachesis the new optometrist, and Avery Atropos, the optometrist’s receptionist.”

Belle’s face broke into a beaming grin. “Why Emma, it’s obvious! Their last names tell us everything: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, the three fates.”

“As in Greek mythology? You mean that stuff’s all real too?”

Belle laughed. “It sure is. I beat Killian has plenty of stories about run-ins with Poseidon.”

“Great,” Emma muttered with a roll of her eyes, “so we have to deal with Percy Jackson crap too. So what do these fates do?”

“Well, legend says that Clotho spins the thread of each of our lives, Lachesis maintains it, and Atropos cuts the thread when our lives end.”

“I guess I should be glad Avery didn’t cast the spell,” Emma muttered.

“Emma,” Belle said softly, gently touching her arm, “what’s going on? Are you okay?”

For some reason, the librarian's words caused tears to well in Emma’s eyes, and before she knew it, it was all pouring out of her: the cupcake, the candle, waking up without her sight, and what happened at the optometrist’s office. It was embarrassing word vomit, right there in front of the library on the snowy sidewalk, and by the end of it, Belle had her arm around her.

“And it all seemed insane, you know?” Emma finished. “I mean, none of it seemed plausible, but then the tree caught on fire, and Granny gave us those ridiculous gifts, and I don’t know, I’m so confused!”

“Are you?”

Emma choked out a strangled laugh. “I mean, there’s always been this attraction between us, and the man can kiss -” Emma raised a hand when she saw Belle’s eyebrows raise “but attraction and a passionate kiss is one thing. That vision . . . . it’s . . . .”

“A happy ending?” Belle supplied.

“Yeah,” Emma said softly, “and I just don’t know that I believe in that. Happy endings and true love. At least not for me.”

Emma waited for the true love speech from the Disney princess turned town librarian, but instead, Belle pulled her close in a tight hug. For a moment, she didn’t speak, then she pulled back and gave Emma a gentle look.

“I know your early years were full of loneliness and pain, Emma, but those years are in the past. Maybe that’s why Felicity Clothos, the spinner, got involved. Maybe she - and her sister Dr. Lachesis - wanted to give you the gift of hope. If anyone deserves it, Emma, it’s you.”

In some ways, it sounded like something Emma’s mother would say, but it was different coming from Belle. This was from a woman who had suffered so much heartbreak. Heartbreak caused by a man who, in Emma’s opinion, didn’t deserve the love of someone as kind and generous as Belle. Yet here Belle was, encouraging Emma to take hold of the happy ending in front of her.

“You’re a wonderful friend, Belle.”

“So are you, Emma.”

The two women hugged again, and when they stepped apart, Emma crinkled her nose and squinted her eyes with worry.

“Being a good friend means you’ll keep this a secret, right? Especially from my mom?”

Belle threw back her head and laughed. “My lips are sealed.” Then Belle winked at Emma. “Now hurry off to enjoy that cocoa and the man making it.”

“Belle!” Emma exclaimed, her cheeks heating.

She did hurry, though.

[foreficfandom]

Mystic Messenger - Little Bad Habits (Dating MC)

– Zen –

Litter. Everywhere. Not permanently, he’s not that much of a slob, he does do chores regularly and stuff. But he just ... tosses his clothes and cigarette wrappers and other things literally everywhere, and leaves it for ‘later’. 

Since he’s so anal about his health, he kinda disrupts your own eating habits by coincidence. Grocery shopping can be a challenge when he’s forbidding all desserts and snacks from the cart even though he’s not gonna be eating any of it.

He's bad with technology, so good luck trying to get him to do stuff like answering emails, or paying bills online, or even using apps like Yelp or Uber. You end up in charge of most software in the house. 

It’s sweet that he texts you with random pickup lines and pictures three times a day, but damn it I keep thinking it’s something important I’m expecting, and instead it’s just one of your bathroom selfies with a heart drawn in the fogged up mirror. 

Zen, can you not have these bad tepid takes like ‘women look better without makeup’, or ‘being the man of the house is the mark of being an adult’, or ‘those who couldn’t work for every penny they’ve had don’t deserve it’? No, Zen, let me pout you’re being an idiot right now.

– Yoosung –

AXE bodywash, AXE bodyspray, AXE shampoo. He uses it because it’s ‘manly’? But god it’s so strong and synthetic-smelling. He needs your help in moving away from this brand. 

He’s also prone to clutter, even more so than Zen. It takes a while before he stops leaving all his laundry on the floor and takes that extra step in hanging it up, or folding it into his dresser. And good luck trying to get him to wash dishes every day, rather than leaving it overnight. 

It’d be nice if you were more enthusiastic about my interests, Yoosung. You may not enjoy visiting Sephora as much as I do, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t abandon me at the doorway to hang out at GameStop. 

He does a bunch of these little roommate mistakes like using up all the hot water, or not refilling the Brita, or always leaving the empty toilet paper roll for you. Yoosung, you gotta learn how to live with another person!!

He’ll always be prone to jealousy, which doesn’t cause a problem most days, but if you ever become a fan of some idol or celebrity, be prepared for some pouting, maybe even a cold shoulder or two. He can’t even side-eye the TV like he does catcallers or people on the street, so he’s twice as frustrated. 

– Jaehee –

She’s bad at recycling. She didn’t even do it for a long time, and only started recently. Even now, she’ll toss random plastic bits into either container, paying no mind to whether it’s recyclable or not. She won’t rise milk jugs or tin cans before throwing them away. 

Now that her hair is growing out, she sheds it everywhere. RIP the shower drain, the carpet, the furniture. The two of you gotta invest in rubber mops and lint rollers just for her hair.

She’s a very clean and organized person, except for her makeup, which all sits in a dusty old bag with old leaking bottles getting over everything, brushes and sponges she doesn’t wash, and literally every product is old and expired. And then she kisses you with her lipstick on and causes an acne breakout. 

When she settles down to watch TV while relaxing, she likes to turn her flatscreen up waaayy loud, which is fine unless you’re working on something and the noise is just so distracting. Jaehee, I’m trying to do the books on the cafe, you gotta turn Zen’s musical down!

When she gets colds, she sometimes hides it as long as she can, which makes everyone around her get colds too. She may have been able to avoid a couple of boring sick days, but now you’ve got a sore throat. Thanks, honey, I love you too. 

– Jumin –

He kept calling you in the middle of the day with full expectation that you’d answer every single time, especially during the beginning of the relationship. Jumin, I’ve got my own work. It’s okay if I miss a message or two, I’m not your employee.

He has a physical trainer, dietician, and physician regime that he follows rigorously, and he kinda expected you to do the same even if you didn’t want to. Even now, he brings up a nutrition plan once and a while, even if you are totally not interested in following a food calendar. “It’s for your health, love,” well, Jumin, my health calls for a big bowl of barbecue chips. 

He’s surprisingly clingy in bed. The two of you fall asleep in the middle of the mattress, and by morning you’re hanging on for dear life at the edge of the bed while Jumin is pushing as close to you as humanly possible. More than once you’ve been rudely awakened by falling out of bed and hitting the hard marble floor. 

Jumin, stop entering the bathroom while I’m on the toilet, or in the shower! I close the door for a reason. No it’s not like I wanna avoid you, I just wanna shit in peace

He sometimes makes plans without your input, which works for surprises, but not so much for dinner at the Galaria and he’s already downstairs waiting for you while you’re totally not ready. 

– Saeyoung –

All that Phd. Pepper has to go somewhere, and it tends to escape out of both orifices, so to speak. 

No joke, the boy is gassy. And he teases you with it, like making himself fart right when you decide to sit next to him on the couch just to hear you “EWW!!” and squirm away. You’re lucky you’re cute, 707. 

Even when his work schedule becomes more normal, he still doesn’t keep a regular schedule. He does stretches of days where he stays up until 4am, then he spends the next week sleeping 14 hours a day. It can be hard to spend time with someone who’s either dead tired when you’re awake, or super hyper when you’re about to sleep. 

He’s very particular when it comes to his cars. You can’t eat or drink in them, not even gum. You can’t put your feet anywhere except squarely in the footrests, god forbid you absentmindedly rest them against the dashboard. No picking at the leather, no scratching the carbon fiber, you can pet the soft velvet but you’re on thin ice. 

Saeyoung, can you shower more, please? You smell like old ham and your hair isn’t doing so good either. Yes, I will give you a kiss, but only if you hop in the bathtub right now. 

– Saeran –

Like his brother, his sleeping schedule is wack. He’ll spend several all-nighters and then clonk out for a long while, too tired to do anything. And not because of work, either, he just doesn’t have a good sleep schedule. 

Loves to cook, hates to clean. Leaves all the dirty dishes, pans and pots, and countertops for as long as humanly possible, which means someone else is usually the one stuck cleaning it all up. It gets better when the household arranges duties for everyone so Saeran’s in charge of meals while another cleans up afterwards, but even then it can still get dirty.

Sweats in his sleep, which is further exacerbated by some of his medication. Sleeping next to him means sticky skin and wet bedsheets. He has to wash his pajamas every other day.

You gotta hide your sweets or else Saeran’s gonna steal them. He stress-eats during his worse days, and besides that he’s just got a monster sweet tooth, so he’ll finish his entire pint of ice cream and steals yours, too. Then he finds your hidden package of gingersnap cookies and oops, there goes your snack.

He hates having his hair cut, it’s a weird sensory experience for him and he gets anxious while having to sit still for so long. He won’t go to the salon so he tries to cut it himself, which hogs up the bathroom for two hours and leaves shed hair all over the sink. Once you start helping him, he feels better about the experience.

– Jihyun –

He cannot be trusted with the laundry. He shrinks all the knitwear, keeps forgetting to clean the lint tray, and all his whites are no longer white. You gotta be in charge if you don’t want your wardrobe to end up like his. 

Jihyun, I know you grew up with money but when the toilet is clogged you don’t call the plumber, you take this plunger and try to unclog it yourself with bleach. And no, we don’t need a new refrigerator just because the light bulb burst. 

He’s surprisingly tough to sleep next to in bed. You eventually get used to it, but for a while you kept getting kicked by his long limbs, or getting punched by a flailing arm. And he drools, too, sometimes onto your hair. 

Why. Do you. Clip your nails on the bed. Ew, stop that. 

He’s prone to getting caught up in hipster food trends, like superfood phenomenons. Jihyun, you know that apricot pits are poisonous, right? I know the co-op recommended them but I gotta feel like that’s a marketing gimmick. Please don’t eat them, put those down. 

[bibliophilicwitch]

Okay this is going to be a pretty big update related to work. And it’s gonna be pretty big because I haven’t been writing my rambling posts lately because I’ve been too busy at work when I normally would’ve gotten my feelings written down. idk how many are interested in this these days, but I know I’ve had followers that found my work updates interesting.

As you may remember I worked as a supervisor at a fabric store for many years and was worked into the ground with a horrible pittance for my effort. That company folded and I worked at Target for just over a year at the front end to utilize my management skills, but I realized that I had basically learned everything I could in such retail settings and I wasn’t happy. So I left and ended up working for Shopko pharmacy... for about a year until they also folded.

So the last two years I have been working at a Kroger pharmacy. I will be blunt - I am not a fan of Kroger though the reasons why are not specific to just Kroger but are evident in most retail pharmacy chains (and corporate customer service in general).

When we started administering COVID vaccines it was... rough. It wasn’t quite as horrible as the first few months after opening the new pharmacy because now we have learned a lot and know how to do most of what we’re doing and overall our patients are not abusing us as they had early on. But we are running around 26 vaccines over the course of two hours and not processing and dispensing medications during that time so we then spend the rest of the day frantically attempting to catch up while all of our patients that had to wait until we resumed daily services flooded us at once. We were short a tech for nearly three months and she has just returned and I already noticed the difference this past week. This means that now we are not spread thin with no extra coverage but instead no longer have to pick up tons of extra hours on top of having no extra coverage to help catch up from the vaccine clinic.

A few weeks ago I stayed over five hours after my shift, two of which during closed hours, and even two techs working literally all day including after closing with the pharmacist and getting caught up on several projects wasn’t enough because by noon the next day we were already sinking. It was at that point that I determined I was done. It didn’t matter how much we tried, we couldn’t get ahead and this meant that every day it felt like we were terrible techs unable to do our jobs competently. 

I didn’t have any deadlines or programs at the library the following Monday so I decided to use my first vacation day in over a year for a three-day weekend only to be asked if I could come in Monday evening at the pharmacy because it was such a shit show. I decided not to go in because we are very limited on what we can do after 5 anyways but I felt so damn guilty about it so a few days later I started job hunting with the goal of looking for something that will use the different skillsets I have developed at the library hopefully I can find a part-time job running a local business’s social media though that isn’t very likely in the small community I live in. All I know is that I am Done with pharmacy.

Meanwhile about ten years ago I started working at the circulation desk at my local library and found I was truly passionate about libraryship as a career. I’ve wanted to work in technical services processing books full-time for years, but technology and the changes of how libraries run means this is not a likely option unless I am at a much larger library. Around five years ago I kinda fell into the program and volunteer coordinator position and while I have had to manage many challenges and work to improve myself to meet those challenges it has been a good experience. Unfortunately it is only a 20hr position and after years of telling my director I would like more hours and I could bring so much more to the position if I had those hours, she kept hesitating to explore that.

This past year my old director retired and we hired a new director. This director has experience at libraries that had dedicated positions for building and managing an online presence and reaching communities in a variety of ways, so when she heard the ideas and suggestions I made throughout the pandemic while we were offering services virtually and determining that we had a HORRIBLE online presence it became an interest to her to possibly utilize my skillset to build that online presence. She tasked me with working on social media plans only to realize I was overburdened with programming at 20 hours and unable to put time into social media so she stepped that back.

The need to build our online presence hasn’t gone away though as Youth Services posts all their virtual programs via Facebook Live and has been sharing many other posts and Adult Services has stepped up their game as well meaning posting conflicts have started to be an issue since everyone has basically just been posting whatever they want with little to no consistency or branding. So my director tasked me with herding cats even though there has been no recognition of my role as a leader leading to me not wanting to overstep.

I asked my director in my bi-monthly meeting about a desire for more hours as well as a better understanding of my role in the future of our library. My city fucked up their budget a year or two ago and with COVID our hours and positions are actually on a freeze so I cannot get more hours though my director does have the goal of getting more hours to a few positions including mine. We are joining our local system this year which may mean we do not need our technical services positions so if any of them leave those hours could be allocated elsewhere. I just have no idea when these hours could become available. But this conversation did lead to giving all of programming to Adult Services and having my job become marketing and volunteer coordinator instead of program and volunteer coordinator.

My only concern is that this change may mean my position doesn’t need more hours later down the road? And that is literally all I want: a full-time position at my current library (since I am settled into this community) so I can work one damn job and have benefits. (My teeth have been a mess for years and yesterday I ate a nut wrong and was in so much pain I left one job early and called in sick to the other.)

Over the past couple of years Youth Services has started tasking each of their staff with planning and running their own programs and our goal is to do something similar with Adult Services. The biggest issue with that is that my current programs may not really play to any of Adult Services strengths, so some of my programs may be dissolved later this year.

I suspect Garden Guru which we market and host but is planned and presented by Master Gardener Volunteers will continue as it is fantastic series with minimal work on our end. We will probably end up changing around book club a fair bit which is fine as it has always been in a state of flux as I worked to figure out how to make it work well. Paint & Sip hasn’t been run in over a year due to the pandemic but will likely continue in some form. Make & Mingle has been monthly kits which is EXTREMELY time consuming and will likely be changed a fair bit when taken over by Adult Services at least during the transition and probably afterwards as they plan for its future.

Paint & Sip’s popularity has been my biggest frustration over the years but it and Make & Mingle have also been the most gratifying for me as I have always gotten the most positive feedback during and after those programs from participants. Also my office is basically a craft storage space and I am going to miss being known for the crafts.

I need to write up a new job description. I need to write out my programming planning and organization for Adult Services as a guide as they take over. I need to continue moving the Google Drive folders from my personal Google to the library’s new Gmail so that Adult Services will have control over them. I need to make sure these programs are all planned out enough to make sure transition is relatively smooth (Adult Services staff will either shadow my programs a few times or I will shadow with them as they take over and I figure I will work with the staff picking up different programs for transition plans).

So yeah... a fuck ton has been going on the last several months both overwhelming and exciting.

[seapandora]

Illusion Part 2

Illusion｜Part 2/?

Bucky x oc!Lori

Warnings: Angst, betrayal, swearing, torture, (suicide is mentioned once), violence

A/N: So here´s a very late part 2. I´ve decided to put the total number of chapters as a question mark for now seeing as I don´t think I have the potential to post chapters that are 10k. I just don’t have the time or backstrength to revise 10k words in one go. So there will be more and shorter chapters instead. I hope you guys like it! Don’t forget to check out part 1! And share/comment/like if you enjoyed! GIF-cred to owner! Oh, and I'm doing tag lists now! Send me a message if you want to be on it! Chapters 3, 4, and 5 should be up soon at least, I'm currently on a bit of a break, but once I'm back I'll have more time to revise and write!

Summary: Reader is a supersoldier, one of a number, one of nine. Hydra´s backup for the asset. The group was started in 1974 and has been working under the radar, training for the day when the asset no longer exists. Y/N is the only one left. Left in a cryo, she wasn’t discovered until 2023 when a certain captain and his buddy found her.

Words: 6077

Taglist: @selfsun​

2024

Four weeks had passed since Lori arrived at the compound from Wakanda. It had been three months, more or less, since she was thawed out from her cryo-sleep. She felt more at home in the compound and she felt more comfortable with the rest of the team. It was now October. Autumn had brought clouds, and rain. The world was silent and didn’t have much need for the Avengers at the time. Lori had been wih the team on two missions so far. Neither was very dangerous. They hadn´t faced any serious enemies, and she had yet to fire her weapon at an enemy.

It had been made clear that she worked well with the team. Bucky and her were synchronized on a different level, and she worked well with Sam as well. The two could joke around and have fun on the missions, without it distracting them. Lori had also begun to talk more with Bucky, but she was still set on calling him James. They would have all meals of the day together, unless Bucky was away on a mission. And if he was Lori would eat on her own. The other agents working with them had big issues with yet another super-soldier. Someone who had worked for Hydra. They didn’t want a redo of what had happened with Shield.

Lori could understand them. She had spent countless evenings reading up on the Avengers,  and anything involved with them. She had started as far back as Steve and Buckys time in the army. She adored the man Bucky had been back then. She adored how willing he was to follow his captain, even give his life for him. She could see a shadow of that man still in him. But years of punishment and pain from Hydra had changed him.

Next she had researched Shield. She had found out about Peggy Carter and the Starks. Of course she knew of the Starks. She had been set to step in, should Bucky fail to take their lives.  He had been successful, as the whole world knew, and Lori had been kept secret from the world. The day after Christmas the same year she had ben put in the cryostasis chamber and forgotten. Her reasearch had taken her through the 90´s and early 2000´s. She had read files on all the former Avengers during the timeperiod and had asked Sam and Bucky to fill in where the files didn’t have answers.

Lori avoided tabloids and articles surrounding Shield, Hydra and the Avengers. She preferred facts over debates. Her days were spent in the filing rooms where she could find information. Sam and Bucky often tried to drag her out of the room, for runs or an hour in the gym. Sam didn’t always like running with Bucky and Lori, but he appreciated when they altered their pace to adjust for him. That way he didn’t feel like he was always left behind.  

Lori had become a very good friend to Sam. He trusted her, and she was hardworking. Something he appreciated. She was also good with him, and Bucky, joking around a lot. They could be harsh with each other, but Lori didn’t seem to bother, or be too concerned about their joking. She had joined in a few times anyways. Lori liked the banter and joking. The relationship she had with the two men was so open and she felt happy around them. Happiness, that was an interesting feeling. It had been long since she felt happy and it had scared her in the beginning, but not anymore.

It had been a slow afternoon as Lori was buried in piles of files and boxes. She wanted as much details as she could comprehend about the past 30 years of the Avengers, Shield, and Hydra. She was trying to find out why Hydra had left her all alone in the bunker. The answers were no where to be found. Up until she was found, she didn’t even seem to exist. Searcheds for her name had turned up nothing. No articles, reports, or anything online or in the files.  Never had she felt so alone, so unwanted.

Bucky stuck his head through the door and cleared his throat to make Lori aware of his presence. “Hey, it´s almost 8, you wanna come up and eat with us? It´s movie night,” Bucky explained and walked over to her, looking over her shoulder at the files. He moved some of them finding a picture of himself from the 1940´s. He was in a dark blue coat with a rifle in his hand. He froze as he saw the smiling man in the picture. That was 80 years ago, give or take.

Lori looked up at him and frowned. “Let´s go James,” She said and patted his arm before she walked to the door, and turned the lights off. Bucky followed her once he had put the picture down. “Have you found out anything more?” He asked her as they came out into the light of the corridor, walking towards the elevator. Lori shook her head and sighed. “It´s like I don’t exist at all. My birth certificate is there but nothing from that point. No information, no articles, absolutely nothing. It´s like I just ceased to exist.” She muttred.

“Did you try to look up your mother or friends?” Bucky asked. “I tried at least, she either died or changed her name, same goes with my friends.” She shrugged. It had pained her in the beginning but not so much anymore. She had never forgotten her mother, but during her time in Hydra she had stopped thinking about her in order to keep her thoughts safe and free of want and longing.

Bucky nudged her as they walked. “If you don’t stop spacing out on me, I´ll have to bring Wanda to see whats going on in that head of yours,” he teased her. They took a turn to the right, into the kitchen. Lori laughed and shook her head. “No sorry. I´ll try not to space out anymore today” she promised and smiled at Bucky. He laughed with her and sat down by the kitchen island pulling on a carton with pizza in it. “Care to share Lori?” He asked and slid the pizza-box a bit to his right where Lori sat down.

“Is it regular pizza? Or the superior Kebabpizza?” She asked. Of course she had decided to catch up on some Swedish history from the years she had missed. One of the things she had missed was something called a Kebabpizza. She had gone to the nearest pizzeria and asked for one. She had paid a fine prize for it but she had loved it.

Bucky had been terrified when she told him about it, Sam too. They hadn´t been as terrified as when they saw her gulp one whole Kebabpizza in one go, but rather, impressed. “I´m sorry, Americans have done much. But we didn’t start, whatever the hell, that amazing pizza is. But yes it´s Kebabpizza for the miss. Now come here and eat,” Bucky said and pushed the stool besides him out for her.

Lori sat down besided him and grabbed a slice of the pizza for herself. She grabbed a soda can as well and held it out for Bucky to open, which he did without question. The two had really learnt how to work in harmony. It was easier now that Lori had become more used to them all, and more open to being around them as well. “So Wanda, whats on tonight?” Lori asked and looked over at the one she was the closest too, apart from Bucky and Sam. Wanda shrugged and smiled at her. “I was planning on seeing Skyfall, it’s a Bond-movie. They were a thing when you were younger right?” Wanda asked.

“So old mister Connery is still in business?” She asked and raised an eyebrow at the people in front of her. They all seemed to be very confused. “What? He isn´t dead is he?” She frowned and looked to Sam, her go to for information about celebrities. “I don’t know about that, but you must have missed out on a lot of Bond movies, Connery´s last was in 71. Roger Moore took over from 73,” Sam explained as he looked at her. “Right now, well up until recently, the role was played by Daniel Craig, I think you´ll like it” he continued and smiled.

Bucky patted her arm. “Relax, when I came too there was something called cellphones. I think you can handle a different Bond,” he teased her and chuckled. She shrugged but gave in and nodded. “I´m sure this Daniel guy is good, as long as he´s good looking the plot is less important,” she explained. All the James Bond movies she had seen had more or less the same plot.

“Incoming call from Peter Parker,” The disembodied voice of Friday sounded through the kitchen making all four of them look up in confusion. Peter hadn´t called since one of Lori´s first days and as far as they knew he was away, working in Europe or so. There was no reason for him to call the avengers, so why was he?

Sam picked up the call quickly and announced all of their presence for it. “Okay so I just got back from Europe two days ago, and apparently there was this dude waiting for me here in New York. Like he doesn’t know who I am but he has beef with Spider-Man I suppose, and yeah that’s me. But I can´t shake him off, and I don’t want to lead him towards May, so you know… I kind of need a bit of help,” the young man all but shouted into the phone. Friday thankfully lowered the volume of the call.

Sam had taken a visible step back at Peters voice and let out a breath. “Hey, relax man. Where are you? We´ll come out, meet you, and lead whoever is hunting you away from May and New York City okay?” He said and crossed his arms over his chest. They could all hear how hard Perers breath was as he swung through the city. “Uhh, yeah sure, I´m swinging back and forth across 5th. North and south, it’s a weird monster,” he explained before the call was cut right then and there. “Okay team, suit up. Jet leaves in five minutes, chop chop.” Sam said and ran off to the weapons room with Bucky and Lori while Wanda ran off to her room to get her famous coat. So much for movie-night, Lori thought.

Bucky and Lori arrived in the weaponry first considering they were faster than Sam. They grabbed their guns from the shelves and made sure they were all loaded and ready to go before they grabbed extra ammo. Lori also grabbed some of Natashas widow bites. They could always come in handy and they were small, hence not  ahindrence to her. She grabbed the Captains shield and tossed it to Sam before she looked over at Bucky seeing him strap on his M249.

There was something beautiful and calming about it to Lori. She had seen him get ready before, but it never ceased to amaze her. He made it seem so easy, as if it was just an extension of him, a part of him. She had always worked to be as good as him with weapons. But she wasn’t nearly as good.

1972

She had been locked into her little cell once more, and she didn’t know how long she had been there. She was guessing weeks by now. Before the experiments she had received food twice a day, now she hadn´t received food in forever, and yet she wasn’t hungry. Not much anyways. The room was as cold as it had been before but it wasn’t affecting her anymore. The clothes she had gotten helped keep her temperature up. She had seen some changes in her body, her muscles had grown and were more defined now.

The door to her cell was unlocked and she looked up from her corner. There wasn’t any food with the men and they attempted to pick her up but she kicked and punched her way out of their grips. They held up their guns and she raised her hands. She didn’t want to fight them, but she could walk on her own. They grabbed her by her arms but allowed her to walk. They guided her and they weren´t very gentle with her but she didn’t care as she was taken into an open room with a strange-looking machine in the middle.

A man sat in the chair. He was breathing hard. The men holding her pulled her towards the other side of the room and through another door. There was a table laid out which they strapped her too, tightly. They hadn´t used belts this time, but handcuffs and wires instead. Of to her right side she could see windows, but they looked to have been covered up from the outside. Streams of cold air could still be felt from that side of the room. When Lori turned her head to the right she could see a large number of machines. Machines she would have never been able to name, or explain the use off.

Someone took a hold of her head and tied something over her throat, and then over her forhead, stopping Lori from moving her head side to side. She tried to scream but her mouth was stuffed by something she hadn´t seen and therefor couldn´t identify. She could still make noise, but it was muffled by whatever was in her mouth. They attached something to the wires around her and she could feel something biting into the skin of her right arm. As something dripped down her arm she realized they had cut her arm open with a knife.

She tried to move, but she was so tighlty strapped in that she ould only move her chest up and down. She screamed and tears rolled down her temples. Maybe the man she had seen in the bigger room would hear her. Maybe he would help her if he could hear her. She was silenced by a powerful shock going through her body. She stopped thinking and couldn’t see for a moment. It was over as quick as it had come over her, and she was struggling to catch her breath.

Lori´s body was on fire. The cool air from the windows did nothing to help her. She could feel the wires around her wrists and ankles, they were burning her skin. Even if she couldn’t see, she was certain the wires would leave marks on her skin. Lori cried out again as the next shock went through her. She wasn’t aware of how long it lasted as she passed out from the pain and shock. What had she done to deserve this? Why were they torturing her?

Her cell was where she woke up. The first thing she did was to look for the marks around her wrists and ankles, and sure enough, there they were. Bright red, and bloody from where she had kicked and strained against them. She touched them gently and whimpered. They were painful, but her head was hurting worse. She didn’t have any memory of what had happened. All she could remember was when she was strapped to a table with belts. But that couldn’t have been this day, it had to have been a long time ago. Belts wouldn´t leave her wrists bloody.

2024

The thing, or monster rather, that was chasing Spider-Man was almost too much for the team to handle. Peter had worn it out a bit though with his constant swinging back and forth. The jet landed on one of the roofs and the four avengers got off as Peter also landed on the roof. “Hey guys, so I don’t know what this dudes problem is. But yeah I need help, and I need to lead him away… And…” Peter rambled and pulled at his mask without taking it off.

“Hey kid, relax. Why don’t you sit tight and we´ll get a look on things,” Bucky said and patted Peters shoulder before leaning over the edge to look down at the streets, and then towards the next roof. He glanced back at Lori and smirked. “How do you feel about jumping?” He asked and backed up on the roof before he took off and jumped over to the next roof. It wasn’t terribly far and it was lower than their current roof. Lori chucked to herself and jumped after him. She rolled into the landing and looked up at Bucky. “Now what? The thing is huge…” She mumbled and placed her hands on the guns by her hips.

If she had more time before they left, she would have tried to alter her bullets and incorporate the widow bites into them. That way they could have worked from the inside of the monster, rather than just the outside. She sighed as she thought about it, but screamed as a large hand picked her up. She tried to grab her guns but couldn’t because of where she was held. She managed to get to her knife however, and stick it in one of the monsters fingers. It didn’t do too much until she twisted it.

The monster released her with a roar, and she was falling. Buildings in New York city are high. It would have taken Lori around 8 seconds to reach the ground, thankfully Sam caught her by the arm and helped her onto the nearest building. “You okay Lori?” He shouted as he began to shoot at the monster, which was now going after Bucky. “I´m fine, we have to help Bucky.” She said and reached up to turn her comms on. “Wanda can you get a hold of the monster? Mess with its mind or something?” She asked her fellow female avenger and looked up to her. She had a habit of taking control on missions, something the others had learned during their two previous missions.

None of the others had seemed to mind. Sam was quite hppy that someone else took charge for once. Considering Lori´s background Sam was happy to have her around. He liked not having to make all the decisions himself. “I can try, I mean I don’t know how his brain works, but keep him distracted!” Wanda exclaimed and floated over to the monster. Lori got up and dusted her self off a bit before she pulled her hair into a bun. It wasn’t pretty, or cute. But it got the job done. She checked her guns to make sure they were still working properly. She didn’t want to blow herself up by accident.

Her guns were fine. She took the safety off before she shouted at the monster on the other roof. Her wish was to get its attention to let Wanda get close. The monster turned its head, and Lori began to shoot at it with both guns. It didn’t seem to do a whole lot, but at least she had the monsters attention. It started to come towards her and she frowned. “Shit, shit, fuck, shit, fuck…” She mumbled and began to back away. She kept her eyes on the monster until she hit the edge of the roof. She glanced behind herself. The others and Peter were watching her. Lori took a deep breath before she emptied the magaizines of her guns into the monster who was at the other side of the roof.

“Lori, what the hell are you doing?” Bucky and Peter asked through her coms at once. She smirked to herself and looked at them both. “Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith,” She answered and threw herself off the building. The monster came straight after her as she had figured it would. It looked over the edge into the barrell of Lori´s guns. “Hello there,” she said before she fired, the speed of the bullets knocking the monster back. The others stopped in their tracks before they too went at the monster. Asking about what Lori´s thought-process was, could wait until they were out and fine. The important thing now was to make sure the monster was taken care off.

Bucky and Sam shot at the monster while Peter and Wanda used their powers to keep the monster down. Lori reloaded her guns for the last time and helped Bucky and Sam shoot at the monster. She was in more pain now, and she had realized the monster had done more damage to her than she had previously thought. She was wheezing a bit as she grabbed at her ribs. They were painfully sore and Lori coughed to clear her throat a bit, which hurt her quite badly. “Fuck,” she muttered to herself and leaned on a structure on the roof.

Wanda held the monster down with her powers and Peter swung around throwing webs at the monsters hands and feet to stop it from moving. It took them just a few seconds to complete their goal. Sam came over to Lori and frowned as he noticed her flinch away. “Okay guys, get ready to leave. I´ll get some agents to take care of this. Peter, are you going to May or with us?” He asked and looked to the onesie-wearing man. Peter shook his head. “I´ll wait here for the agents to arrive. If he were to get lost I´m one of the only who can keep him down. Wanda could you stay as well?” He asked and looked over to the robe wearing woman standing a little farther off. Wanda nodded and smiled at them all before she soared off back to the monster.

Sam helped Lori stand up and she leaned into his side. “Fucking hell,” She mumbled and gripped her side. “Let´s get you back to Helen to check out those ribs of yours,” Sam said quickly and all but carried her to the jet for them to leave. Bucky followed them and kept an eye back on the scene they had just left. They got into the jet and Sam gently sat Lori down on one of the seats. Bucky came over to her with a first aid kit but she just shook her head. “The doctor can check up on me, it isn´t very far,” she said and leaned her head back and sighed heavily. Bucky nodded quickly and shrugged. “I´ll just get you a bottle of water and some super pain killers for now then,” he explained and left her alone for a little bit to get the water and pills.

Lori touched her side and gasped a bit as she arched her back in hopes that it would make the pain more bearable. She would be fine in just a few hours, unless the ribs were broken of course. How she hated broken bones. They were annoying, painful and just took so long to heal, even for someone with supersoldier serum. Bucky came back with the water and pills which Lori swallowed quickly. She coughed as the water went down the wrong pipe. She wiped her mouth and breathed heavly. “Thank you, Bucky,” she mumbled and looked down at her hands. Sam, who was steering them towards the compound let out a chuckle.

“She came around, now everyone calls you Bucky,” he teased his best friend. Lori smirked and shook her head as she leaned her head back again and closed her eyes. She missed the look Bucky gave her. It was a mix of happiness, terror and pride. He was happy Lori called him Bucky, but he was terrified seeing as it made him care more about her. At the same time he was proud at how far she had come from when they found her. She was acclimating to them all, and now Bucky as well it seemed. He looked away quickly to Sam who was smirking at him. He groaned quietly and made a face at Sam before placing his left hand on Lori´s forehead. She hummed in approval of the cold metal agaist her forehead.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asked quietly and looked at her. She huffed and chuckled a bit. “Like a monster picked me up by the ribs and squeezed,” she teased him and glanced over at him. “Go ahead. Yell at me for my little suicide drop move,” she mumbled and took another sip of water. “I´m not gonna yell at you doll, that ain´t my style. Sam will do that when you´re better. But I´m curious. What where you thinking?” He asked and smiled softly. Lori looked at him and shrugged. “I noticed there was a ledge just down the roof, and I knew it was big enough for me to fall on it safetly, plus we needed the distraction. Peter and Wanda had to get a chance to bring him down.” She explained and shrugged once more.

Bucky shook his head with a smile. “Steve was just like that. Always ready to get himself hurt for others…” he mumbled and looked away for a bit. He really missed his best friend, the man he had grown up with and the man who had saved him more than once. He sighed and looked back to Lori. Of course she was special in his eyes. She was like him in many ways, and he just wanted her to be okay and be able to live a life in freedom. “Yeah, but he was always on the good side,” She answered quietly and furrowed her brows. While she didn’t see a monster in Bucky, she couldn’t help but see one in herself.

The jet landed a few minutes after midnight and Bucky helped Lori out of the back of it. He stayed by her side and let her lean on him, before Helen came up and offered to get Lori a stretcher. Being stubborn as she was she refused and let Bucky help her all the way back to the med-bay. Helen got her a bed to sit down on. “Okay, can you just remove your shirt and I´ll have a feel. We´ll see where we go from there,” she explained and stared at Bucky, waiting for him to leave so they could have some privacy. Lori stared at him too and it took him some time to understand he should leave. “There´s pizza left, I´ll leave you some,” he said before he left the med-bay rubbing his neck.

Lori laughed softly but flinched at the pain shooting through her side. “You know what, just get your shirt off and we´ll take some X-rays of your side, I have a sneaky suspicion those ribs are broken,” Helen sighed and went to get her X-ray machine. It was portable and she could see the bones straight away instead of having to print pictures out. Lori did as she was told and gently raised her arm up seeing some good bruising on her side. “Bucky gave me some super strength pain-killers on the jet. I´m not sure wether they´re working or if they just haven´t kicked in yet,” Lori explained as Helen checked her ribs. “Yeah, well they usually work within half an hour, so call me through Friday if they arent working in 15 minutes. I´ll prescribe you a dose. Don’t take more than 2 at once and only every 4 hours, alright?” Helen said and Lori nodded. “Okay Doc, are they broken? Do I need a bandage or something?” She asked as Helen walked away again. Lori pulled on her shirt now and groaned softly clutching her chest.

“They´re broken alright, but we can´t bandage it or anything so while I´m not gonna put you on bed rest, I suggest you take it easy the next few days or maybe two weeks. Your serum is a little different from Barnes and very different from Steves so I don’t really know how long it´ll take.” Helen explained and smiled at Lori before they both heard the low rumble of thunder. Lori was confused but Helen smiled to herself. “Mind if I join you guys for pizza?” she asked and Lori shrugged. “I don’t mind, but I cant speak for the others but I bet they don’t mind either,” She explained and frowned as another roll of thunder passed by. “That doesn’t sound like normal thunder… I better get back to the others,” she said and got off the bed she had been sitting on. Helen nodded and said she would be with them in a few minutes, she just had to report in the pills she had given to Lori.

1972

Time meant less and less to Lori every second that went by. Had you asked her how long she had been with Hydra she would have answered anything from two weeks to her whole life. Truth was she had been captive for five months. It was the middle of December. For Lori it might as well have been November or January, she didn’t know. All she knew was that it was colder. She had been training a lot more recently. They kept her locked in her cell when she wasn’t training or being tortured. Training took up five to eight hours per day. The torture happened less and less now than it had before, but she was still tied up and electrocuted now and then.

She didn’t understand why, but she could rarely remember much after each of those sessions. Or rather, some things seemed less important than before. She had little recollection of her life before Hydra. Over the past few months they had gone through her head and removed what was Lori. She had become a shell. A shell Hydra had filled with an assassin. Lori had undergone gun-training, knife-training and hand-to-hand-combat. With her enhancement her opponents rarely lasted very long and she got a new one every day to let them rest inbetween session. All to give Lori the best fight they could. She had seen the one she had come to know as the winter soldier a few times, but each time she asked to fight him she was laughed at and tossed into her cell.

After a few days she had stopped asking all together, there was no use. Something different had happened this day though. She hadn´t been taken to the room of torture, and not to the training room either. First she had been taken to a dance studio where she had been forced to practice for hours. Her feet were bleeding, her legs aching. But she didn’t show any emotion as the men forced her into a lab. She was pushed onto a chair and a metal arm was placed in front of her alongside some blueprints.

“Disarm it,” One of the men said and left the room locking the door behind him. Lori was alone in the room with just the arm in front of her. She stared at it for a second before she picked up the blueprints and went through them. It wasn’t clear what she was supposed to do but she began to tinker with the arm and soon had a plate of it opened up. The arm itself was filled with wires that looked like nerves. She frowned to herself and took a look at the blueprints again. She tried to locate the nerves that would disable the fingers of the arms. If she could get to those, the hand wouldn’t be able to close into a fist. It was a start if anything. She would have to disarm the arm from the elbow down to get it to be almost completely useless and that would be much harder, she soon realized.

She had just finished when the guards came back for her. With them was the man she had seen a few times prior. He was pushed into another chair and the arm was attached to his left shoulder. He was staring straight ahead and he didn’t notice Lori at all. Lori herself was taken into an adjoining room where her most senior capter stood. “Send in the agents,” he told his men in a perfect British accent. The soldat stood up as three agents came in. Lori could see him trying to flex his metal arm but he couldn´t, because Lori had done what they had asked of her.

The three agents went at the soldat, who didn’t do very well without a left arm. He was overtaken by the agents who eventually tore the metal arm off. The soldiers guards stepped in and executed the agents at the spot. Lori was taken to her cell, no word on wether she had done well or not. She guessed she had done well considering she wasn´t punished. There was no knowing with Hydra. She would never figure them out, she realized as she laid down on the bed in her little cell. They had at least provided her with two blankets, a luxiory.

2024

Thor had arrived with his brother in a heap of thunder. They had landed on the grass just outside the livingroom. Bucky and Sam had to hold Lori close as she got quite scared by the commotion. The two gods had introduced themselves to the newcomer. They had all shook hands, but Lokis lingered on Lori´s. “Aren´t you a trickster?” He asked softly as he tilted his head with a wicked smile. Lori knew more than any of her collegues about who the gods were. Hell they were a part of her swedish culture. Norse mythology was something every kid in Sweden learned about, Lori hadn´t been an exception. In fact, the norse gods and the mythology had been some of her favorite subjects in school. She had been the best in her class as well. At home she had had a number of books on the gods, well-read and re-read a million times.

Seeing the two gods was a bit of a shock to her. Of course she knew they existed, she had read their files, but she hadn´t expected them to be so big. They easily towered over them all, including Bucky, and Bucky wasn´t short. Yet Loki was at least half a head taller than him and Thor was even taller. Loki had his hair slicked back and was dressed up in a sleek black suit while Thor was in sweatpants and a hoodie. The long golden locks from the pictures Lori had seen were gone in favor for a more spkiy hairstyle. She studied them both for a while, in silence. Lori wasn’t normally a talkative person, less so with people she didn’t know. The gods just stared back at her and tilted their heads. Thor was the first one to break the silence.

“What´s your deal?” He asked as he looked Lori up and down, which to some extent felt a bit intimidating and uncomfortable. “What do you mean, what´s my deal?” She asked and crossed her arms as she stood in front of the god. She didn’t like his attitude. An attitude like that would have been punished by Hydra. “Are you a god? Do you have mind-bending abilities? Are you a former soldier?” Thor asked and frowned as he stared her down. Lori raised an eyebrow but shrugged. “I´m close to what Barnes is… A super-soldier, or something of the sorts at least.” She explained and stuck her chin out at the god.

She heard a swoosh go past her ear but she didn’t flinch or move. Thor smirked as he looked at her with a large axe in his hand. “I like this one,” He said with glee and everyone could hear Loki sigh. “Yes brother, you like yet another human, who is surprised…” he said and shook his head as he rolled his eyes. Lori was fuming on the inside, she felt slightly disrespected but she was also proud of herself for not flinching at all. Bucky grabbed her upper arms and pulled her back a bit. “Let´s go to the gym, take it out on me.” He said quietly and pulled her back. Despite what Lori thought, Bucky knew her better than she realized.

[solbabies]

Im a hoe for the classics and by classics i mean popular x nerd trope,, so how about an Elu au with popular!Eliott and Nerd!Lucas 😎

Voila! Here is a great classic trope! Thank you for the request, and I hope you enjoy it! 

Find more of my Elu work on AO3 as @Book_Lover2001

_______________________

It was all because of a pen. A BiC to be exact; a round stic, blue ink, fine point, 0.8mm pen. Not quite technically a butterfly, but all the same in the matter of science.

The test was going to be easy. Multiple choice and long answer-- show your work, of course-- and Lucas had studied all weekend. He was on his way to acing the biology unit test. As Mrs. Rigaux began to unpack the stack of papers, Lucas reached for his backpack’s front pocket to find an empty space where his lucky pen was only moments before. Panic began to mildly set in. He just had it last class.

“Imane,” Lucas whispered to his seat partner who held a stoic, yet slightly nervous look. “Do you have a pen?” She rolled her eyes at him with the air of a disappointed mother, before searching through her own bag and retrieving what he had asked for.

“Are you coming to the meeting tonight?” she asked him quietly, as she handed him the pen. He tilted his head, unsure of what she was talking about.

“What meeting?”

“The meeting for the foyer?” she said as if obvious, before signing heavily. “The one that Daphné told you about? The student commons that we’re refixing? Dude, you’re honestly helpless. Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually smart.”

“Hey,” he defended, but didn’t take it to heart. She was always like this. “I’m smart.”

“Then where’s your pen?” she countered with a mocking smile. Mrs. Rigaux began to pass out the sheets of paper, weaving around the class as it started to fall silent.

“I swear, girl, I had one. I must have left it in my last class or something.” A paper was placed forcefully in front of him as they were shushed by their teacher.

“Do I need to separate you two?” she tisked as she handed Imane her sheet. “No more talking.”

When the end of the day came around, Lucas had already forgotten about his missing pen, although at the time of its disappearance he had been contemplating putting up ‘missing person’ signs.

“Lucas,” his name was spoken with a smooth tone as he opened his locker. Lucas was clutching his books to his chest as he pulled it’s door open, effectively hiding the person from his sight.

“Eliott,” he returned in a similar voice.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” he asked as if Lucas hadn’t just rudely shielded his face from him.

“And what are we doing tomorrow?” he replied, as he attempted to fit all his papers inside the small space. Eliott had moved around to stand at Lucas’ other side, his back resting against the neighbouring lockers.

“You promised to teach me chemistry,” the older boy said with a smile pulling at his lips.

“Eliott, you are an L student,” Lucas brushed him off, shutting his locker in the process.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn science, and you are a really, really good S student-- the best I heard.” Lucas didn’t know whether he wanted to punch him or blush; maybe both.

“I think you’re confusing me with Imane, but I will gladly set you two up for a study date if you’d like?” Lucas told him, beginning to walk away. Eliott followed like a puppy chasing after it’s owner.

“Come on, Lucas. I know you tutor other people, why not me?”

“Those kids are actual ‘S’ students, taking ‘S’ courses, plus I have better things to be doing than humouring you for an afternoon. Don’t you have a party to plan or something?”

“I’m offended, my love, horribly offended…Unless you want a party, then I’ll throw you a rager-- in your honour of course.”

“I don’t ‘party’ Eliott,” he responded, shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the next. Lucas didn’t like parties, or large crowds at all. He didn’t like being looked at in the halls, or being passively judged by the countless people in Eliott’s circle of friends. Lucas preferred to stay at home with his books or his video games, watching random videos online until three in the morning. 

The hallway was beginning to clear itself out the further they walked into the school.

“Sticking around?” Eliott noted the direction they were moving in. Lucas looked at him from his peripheral vision. Sure, Eliott was objectively hot, but objectively a lot of people were.

“Hey, man!” Someone greeted Eliott as they passed a group of first years. Eliott nodded at them but didn’t break away from Lucas.

“I’m going to that foyer meeting for my friends. Feel free to leave.”

“Sounds like fun, I’m in,” Eliott shrugged. Lucas stopped walking, turning to look at him carefully, watching him with curious eyes.

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” Eliott asked, tilting his head, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“You’re going to come to the foyer meeting… voluntarily?”

“You’re going.”

“Yeah, but--”

“So I’m going.”

________

“I hate him,” Lucas told Yann as he flopped down on his best friend’s sofa. Basile and Arthur were stretched out on the floor, arguing amongst themselves about the Fifa game they were struggling to win.

“Why?” Yann asked, leaning back against the arm rest. Lucas blinked at him, his jaw clenched as he tried to verbalize his feelings.

“I… I don’t know! He’s just so… so…”

“Hot?” Arthur offered, not taking his eyes off the screen. Lucas nudged him with his foot, earning a noise of annoyance from the taller boy.

“Persistent,” Lucas concluded. “He won’t give up.”

“But… you like him?” Basile asked, curiously.

“Of course I don’t like him.”

“But he’s hot?” Basile questioned.

“I guess, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to date him.”

“But he’s also a nice guy,” Yann added, unhelpfully. “Always helpful, cheerful, popular-- everyone likes him.”

“Except me, apparently. Why do I have to like him? He walks around like the god of the school, just expecting me to… I don’t know, fall to his feet like everyone else? He’s always coming up with stupid excuses to see me, or talk to me. Every corner I take, I’m surprised when I don’t find him following me. He’s always listening to me, even when I’m purposefully talking absolute nonsense to bore him. He came to a foyer meeting today because I was going and then he volunteered to paint the mural for the common room because I mentioned how ugly it was and--” Lucas cut himself off, letting his brain catch up to his mouth.

“And what?” Yann asked, hanging on his last word.

“And I thought it was really nice,” Lucas spoke with a softer tone, surprising even himself. “I guess sometimes I get disappointed when he’s not at my locker waiting for me at the end of the day… like that one time he was sick and I was a bit worried something happened to him. Sometimes he leaves me these little drawings when he’s got football practice and can’t make it. I…” The boys were all staring at him as the realization dawned on him. “Do I like Eliott?”

________

Eliott was talking to some girls, a horde of girls actually. They were all smiling and giggling at something that he said, but he looked completely unphased by their reactions. His smile seemed more focused on what he was talking about, rather than who was listening.

“Ugh,” Alexia said, as Lucas and the Crew walked out of the common room. “He’s so hot. I can’t.”

“Aren’t you dating someone?” Lucas noted, watching the scene unfolding in front of him with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

“So?” she replied, waving off his observation. The girls all laughed taking off down the hall with a chorus of ‘goodbyes’ to Lucas. Instead of heading to his next class, which would start soon as the lunch hour came closer to ending, he stood frozen like an idiot watching Eliott talk. The way his smile pinched the corners of his eyes the more he droned on about whatever was so fascinating. The way his hands moved as he explained something to the girls who so obviously didn’t care about anything other than staring at his angular face and model-esque physique. The way that Lucas knew, even without seeing, that Eliott’s eyes were probably shimmering as he laughed at his own joke. None of it settled right with Lucas.

Before he could register what he was doing, Lucas was marching across the hall with purposeful strides. Without a word, Lucas yanked Eliott into the nearby empty classroom, ignoring the confused and slightly shocked faces of the girls.

“Lucas!” Eliott spoke with a stern voice, completely caught off guard by the sudden and very unexpected action. Lucas had his arms crossed, his foot tapping against the ground as he glared at the popular boy with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know how you did it,” Lucas said, his voice low. Eliott’s face twitched, unsure of what was happening. There was a pause.

“Did what?”

“Make me like you.” Eliott drew back his head at the answer, his mouth curving into a small smile. “Don’t look so smug, I’m still trying to figure out when you altered the chemicals in my brain.”

“The chemicals in your brain?”

“Yeah, with your… pheromones! God, I hate you!” Lucas shouted.

“Well clearly you don’t,” Eliott chuckled, finding Lucas’ inner turmoil utterly entertaining. Taking a breath, Lucas realized what he had admitted and what he had abruptly done, and he was mortified with himself. His cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, his mouth opening slightly only to close.

“I…” Lucas began slowly. “I don’t know what came over me. Sorry. Can we just ignore what I just said? Great, I’m leaving.” Lucas reached for the door knob, but Eliott stopped him, his fingers curled around Lucas’ wrist.

“Wait,” he started. “You can’t just leave.”

“Why not? I said stupid things and now I’m going to leave so we can pretend it never happened.”

“So, you don’t like me then?” The question hung in the air and it was as if his words were suffocating him.

“No.”

“No, as in you don’t like me, or no, as in you do like me?” Lucas raked his teeth across his bottom lip as Eliott waited for his answer. His hand was still holding Lucas in place, and it was as if Lucas’ entire body was on fire.

“The… latter.” Eliott’s eyes softened, his touch dropping from Lucas as he brought his arm back down to his side.

“What changed?” Lucas ran his own hand soothingly up and down his arm, as if trying to comfort himself in this moment of honesty.

“I don’t think anything did,” he finally said. “I think I just lost my pen.”

“The butterfly effect?” Lucas raised his brow, as Eliott gave a soft laugh. “I listen to you when you talk, you know. You mentioned it once because it was in a book you were reading.” All Lucas could do was look at him. He didn’t understand Eliott, or why he does the things he does, or why he acts the way he acts. Lucas was barely processing the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to him.

“Kiss me,” Lucas blurted out against his own better judgement. Something passed before Eliott’s eyes, as his smile grew into a genuine expression that made Lucas’ heart ache. Eliott stepped forward, drawing Lucas closer to him by his waist. Their lips were so close Lucas could feel the static between them.

“You can change your mind.” But Lucas didn’t want to. Rather, he tipped his head up, closing the space between them, wrapping his arms around Eliott’s neck to hold him even closer. It felt as if something clicked in Lucas; like a lock turning open with the right key, or the last piece being fitted into a puzzle. Eliott felt like something he had been missing, and finally the last code of his cipher has been discovered.

By the time the bell rang, they were breathless and reluctant to pull away.

“I have to get to biology,” Lucas sighed, running his fingers through Eliott’s hair.

“I have to go to philosophy.” They both made a face.

“I’ll see you at my locker?”

“Now that I’ve seduced you, I don’t need to stay an extra hour to wait for you,” Eliott teased playfully. Lucas, who had begun to move for the door, paused.

“You waited an extra hour for me?

“My day ends earlier than yours,” Eliott replied with a shrug, as he draped his arm over Lucas’ shoulders to walk into the hall.

“But--”

“Don’t feel bad, I didn’t mind waiting,” Eliott said, dropping a kiss on the top of Lucas’ hair. “Plus, it actually forced me to do my homework when I was bored.”

“Why are you so…”

“Perfect? Handsome? Amazing?” Lucas was going to say stupid. Stupid for wasting his time on Lucas.

“Sure,” Lucas gave in. “All of the above.” As Eliott tucked him closely into his side as he walked him to his biology class, Lucas could already feel the eyes on him making his entire body tense.

“They’re all jealous,” Eliott whispered in his ear as they rounded a corner. “That they never had a chance.”

“Never?” Lucas highly doubted that.

“Never ever. You’re all I’ve ever seen, since the first day I transferred here.”

“No pressure or anything,” Lucas muttered lightly. Eliott’s laugh rang in Lucas’ ear like a song that made his heart skip a beat.

“Absolutely none, my love. Absolutely none.”

[pluto-art]

Out of the Cold, Out of the Cavern

Type: Fan fiction (PatB) / Self-insert/Y/N/OC (sort of...) Genre: Hurt/Comfort (what else?) Words: 4,841 Rating: K+

Fan Fiction Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13724127/1/Out-of-the-Cold-Out-of-the-Cavern

As usual, I recommend the fan fiction version, which includes all of the italicized words.

Thanks to @shuunthenonbeliever, I was inspired to finally write this. :)

“One-sixty… one-eighty… two hundred,” the plump woman said, sliding a packet of bills off her jewel-laden fingers and into yours, like water pouring out of a spout.

“Thank you,” you replied, hesitant to pocket the load with those two, round, black eyes still staring at you, burrowing into your soul. They belonged to a young girl, nine or ten in age, perhaps, with short, auburn hair, her little white and turquoise dress bouncing up and down as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting, watching.

“She’ll need watch every weekday from three to nine,” instructed the woman, barely even looking at you or her daughter as she checked her purse for something. “If you have any trouble you have my work number.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“But you’ll be no trouble. Will you, Elmyra?”

“Oh, no, Ma’am. Nopey nopey nope! We’re gonna have so much fun laughing and cuddling and playing with all my fuzzy whittle animals!” screeched the girl, in a voice that scratched like sandpaper.

“Yes, dear. Be good to your new babysitter, all right? Mommy has to go to work now.”

“Bye byeeeeeee!!” Elmyra waved, smiling widely in mock innocence as her mother stepped out the door.

“Bye,” you called out, a bit half-heartedly.

As soon as the door snapped closed, Elmyra turned to look at you expectantly, beaming.

“All right. She’s gone. You can go play with your pets,” you said.

“Yaaaaaaaay!! I’m coming, my fuzzy whuzzies!”

And off she hopped, skipping down the hall and around a corner ever so gayly, to a spot that you knew to be her bedroom, where all manner of horrible and unspeakable things happened.

You turned, leaned against the front door, and inhaled a long, deep breath of air, practically sliding against the thing as you counted out the greens in your hand -- one one-hundred, a fifty, a ten, and two twenties. Yep. Checked out.

You pocketed the loose change, paused, then got up and stuck it in your backpack instead. It’s not like it was going anywhere for a while. Besides, you hated carrying around more than you needed to in your small pants pockets.

Tossing the backpack next to the living room couch, you collapsed onto said couch and took a gander at your new surroundings.

It was a quaint little abode. Could have done with a new paint job, perhaps, but the yellow interior and old-style furniture wasn’t completely abhorrent. The whole cottage was rather cute, in its own weird way, sporting the occasional gothic chandelier that would have looked much more at home in Edward Scissorhands’ house, or a wastebasket that was far too frilly and posh to even be used for its original purpose. But the seating was comfortable, the cable was working, and, best of all, the fridge, stuffed to its seams, was, according to Mrs. Duff, 100% at your disposal. If there was anything that solidified a job offer for you, it was free food.

Not that the job was all chipper and charm. You knew what you were getting into when you took it, and the intermittent screams coming from Elmyra’s bedroom, as well as the cat that nearly bit your finger off from earlier as you tried to coax him out from under the kitchen table, were stark reminders of that. Everyone in the city of Burbank knew who the Duff family was, whether it was personally or from the horror stories passed down the school halls. Most who visited their house, unless they were a close family friend or relative, never wanted to step back in it again. It was common knowledge that you only went to Elmyra’s if you wanted a nice, long day of yelling and suffering, and all in your dorm would have rather died than take on the job of babysitter when it was posted online. But you took it. You took it… partially ‘cause you had no choice. What with a full-time college schedule and not much else in the cupboard save for ramen and three-day-old apples, cash was in short supply and desperately needed, and even though the last thing you’d rather do was keep watch over this kid, you also couldn’t find a job anywhere else. Besides, the pay was good. Excellent, in fact. Two hundred every Friday. You might even splurge on Chinese this weekend.

Sliding the remote off the thick, wooden table, you flipped through the channels, one-by-one, finally landing on National Geographic. The narrator was deep in discussion about the living habits of bats. Appropriate, you thought, as Elmyra flitted out of the room, make-shift cape trailing behind her and blindfold on, zoomed into the kitchen and grabbed a packet of cookies before zipping back into her room, sounding very much like a bat as she laughed in a loud, screeching tone the entire time. You did a double-take as she slammed the door behind her. Were there… other voices coming from the room? No. That’s silly. You shook your head. Crazy.

The next couple of hours went by surprisingly uneventfully; so much so, in fact, that you wondered if there was any basis in the rumors that floated around about the Duff residence being a literal “house of horror”. Some even said the place was haunted. It wasn’t until 6:55 PM, when you went to remind Elmyra that dinner was almost ready, that you got a whiff that things weren’t… quite what they seemed.

Of the menagerie loose throughout the house, Elmyra owned a total of one cat, a parrot, a turtle, and two white mice. The turtle hid. The parrot squawked. And the mice? The mice… talked.

“Narf! Hello there!” the taller of the two said, as you meandered into the room. You cocked an eyebrow and hesitantly lifted a hand to wave at him.

“Hi…,” you replied, a little taken aback.

The shorter mouse didn’t look up at you. His focus was heavily trained on a notepad rife with complex calculations far beyond your intellect. He was scribbling away as if his life depended on it. He also called you a “disposable hindrance”, albeit indirectly to his associate, something you didn’t entirely appreciate, but you also didn’t dare talk back. Not yet.

“Oooo. Munchie time! Come on, little mousies!” Elmyra cheered, and she grabbed both rodents tight around the neck with her short, groping fingers, stuffing them into her shirt pocket as she ran out of the room and in the direction of the kitchen.

You stood behind for a moment, nonplussed. Okay then.

A soft shuffling down the hallway made you turn. It was the cat. He still looked quite wary of you.

“Hey, kitty,” you cooed, gently but not in a childish fashion; more like you were simply greeting a friend. “You gonna let me pet you this time?” you asked, bending down and holding out a hand for him to sniff.

Tenderly, cautiously, the cat stepped up to you, wagging its tail slightly behind him. You narrowed your eyes. A wagging tail wasn’t necessarily a good thing, especially when it came to cats, but this was… different. The closer he got to you the more he wagged it, as if he was… excited? Curious? He sniffed your hand… and licked it. Odd. Then he peered up into your face, lolled out a long, pink tongue, and barked.

You sat back a little, wide-eyed, as the cat-dog jumped up onto your legs and actually started licking your face. It was… weird. Cute, but… weird.

After a few hearty licks, the cat, satisfied, jumped back down, scratched itself, and ran off to play with a ball. You wondered why he hadn’t come up to you before. Perhaps he still had more of the cat than the dog in him. You also now understood why some people claimed that this house was “haunted”. Two talking mice and a barking cat. Not exactly “spooky”, under your terms, but definitely unusual. You wondered what other treasures this quirky household held. Pirate bones? Dinosaurs? You had to admit it was rather exciting.

Shuffling back into the kitchen, you found Elmyra at the table, greedily shoveling the macaroni and cheese you’d made for her into her mouth as she watched a cartoon program on tv. The mice sat beside her in a little highchair, both now dressed as infants, the big-headed one looking absolutely miserable. Now and again, Elmyra would shovel a huge spoonful of mac and cheese into one or the other’s mouth against their will. Lanky mouse didn’t seem to mind it too much. Grumpy mouse turned to look at you with an expression that read: “shoot me”.

“Elmyra, be careful with how you feed your pets, okay? They might not like too much mac and cheese…,” you suggested, cautiously, frowning a little at the big-headed mouse in pity.

You knew, of course, about this kid’s harsh treatment of her pets. Everyone knew. But her parents were rich, and could probably buy out the police station and the A.S.P.C.A. if they’d wanted to, and so no one said anything. Still, as an animal-lover, you were curious. Just how badly did she handle her critters? Maybe you could do something to relieve their pain while you were there? And the situation was bad, certainly, but you’d seen worse, and there was only so much you could say besides, at least while she was awake. Too much rebellion and you’d probably be fired. That being said, you fully intended to assist in giving the poor things a little reprieve once Elmyra went to bed in an hour, and so you let the macaroni-shoveling slide… for now.

8:00 PM came and went, with little deviation from the norm aside from Elmyra quickly popping into the kitchen again at 7:23 PM, opening the freezer, and succinctly closing it before racing back into her bedroom. You shrugged at the gesture, barely turning around from the tv, figuring she probably just went to grab some ice cream. Thankfully, Elmyra not only went to bed early, but also was a heavy sleeper, so by the time 8:15 rolled around she was already obediently in bed and snoring, needing only a reminder from you ten minutes prior. The lanky mouse opened an eye as you peeked in. He was sleeping in the bed with her.

“Sorry,” you muttered, making to close the door, but the little mouse sat up.

“Wait! D-Do you mind checking on Brain? Elmyra said he went to Antarctica, but… he hasn’t been back in a while. You’ll go look for him, won’t you?” he asked, twisting his tail as he said it.

“Sure. I’ll look for him,” you responded pleasantly, and you meant it. The mouse smiled.

“Oh, thank you!” he whispered, tucking back into bed. “Good night!”

“Night,” you whispered back, closing the door softly behind you.

You frowned. Antarctica? More than likely, cranky mouse was simply hiding somewhere, but internally you promised to keep an eye out and check a few cupboards.

Several drawers, a pantry, numerous cupboards, and a couple of closets later and you still couldn’t find the little mouse. You even checked the higher areas of the house, wondering if “Antarctica” meant somewhere scalable and colder. Your first thought, of course, had been the freezer, but that was preposterous. She wouldn’t be that cruel. Would she…?

Out of pure curiosity, you headed back into the kitchen, grabbing a bowl from a cupboard as you did so. You were hungry anyway and figured that a hearty helping of ice cream before you left in half an hour certainly couldn’t hurt. You had free reign of the fridge, after all.

You set down your little blue bowl on the counter. You grabbed a spoon from a drawer and set it in the bowl. You even snatched a couple of Oreo cookies from an Oreo cookie box nearby and plopped them next to the bowl for good measure. Could never be too careful.

Noticing that Elmyra had left a box of frozen fruit pops on the counter without putting them back, you shook your head, grabbed it, opened the freezer door…… and dropped the box onto the floor with a loud plop. Hastily, you whipped off your red sweater, reached into the freezer, and pulled out a little white ball of frozen fur and whiskers.

“Oh, you poor baby,” you cooed, cradling the small mouse in your sweater as if he were precious cargo. You tittered. “Goodness. You poor thing. She actually put you in here??”

Closing the freezer door, you brought the mouse up close, pressing a finger to where his heart would be. His eyes were shut tight, and he was curled so firmly about himself that it took a little doing to get your finger up to his chest. He didn’t stir as you moved him about. There was a heartbeat… barely, faint as a whisper. It was a miracle he was still alive.

Almost instinctively, you cupped him in your hands, brought him over to the sink, and slowly turned on the faucet, checking that the water was lukewarm before carefully sticking him under the steady stream. You didn’t want it too hot right off the bat. Even a warm temperature might be a shock.

Two minutes later, after you’d let the (hopefully) stimulating mini waterfall wash over him, you turned off the faucet and proceeded to dry him off with a towel -- softly; slowly. He still hadn’t stirred, not even a little, and you gulped. Were you too late..?

8:35 PM. The stillness of the night, save for the now dimmed volume of the television, found you sitting once more on the couch, this time with a fuzzy occupant in hand. Big-headed mousie -- the… Brain… he was called? -- lay cradled in your arms, encompassed about with a very soft, very woolly blanket indeed. It was the fluffiest you could find in the house. Nothing less would suffice, in your mind. You could only imagine how frightening of an ordeal it must have been, shivering, cowering in a freezer for an hour, not knowing if the next breath you took would be your last….

A thumb gently stroked the snow white fur of the sleeping mouse, and you couldn’t help but massage that oversized head of his from time to time, muttering to him in soothing tones as you did so.

“You poor thing…. I’m so sorry I didn’t see you in there earlier,” you apologized, even though he probably wasn’t listening. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, the only indication that he wasn’t dead being the steady beat, beat, beat of his thumping heart every half a second.

“You gonna blink for me, sweet heart?”

And then, as if on cue, the little mouse sloooowly blinked, opened his eyes, and stared at you.

“Hey there, little one,” you whispered, smiling at him. “Atta boy….”

His eyes began to shift around, rapidly, and he frowned, as if trying to take in all at once where he was and what had happened.

“It’s all right. It’s all right,” you reassured him, readjusting your grip a touch as you continued to hold him close to your chest. “I’ve got you. Elmyra’s asleep. She can’t do you any harm. And if she tried I wouldn’t let her.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it once more, and subsequently shut it again, as if at a loss for words. Perhaps he really was speechless, or perhaps he was still a little stiff from having been locked up in the freezer for so long. Whatever the reason, he continued to stare at you, almost unblinkingly. As you went to pet him again, he reeled back, breathing faster than normal.

“Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay,” you said calmingly, pausing a mite before resuming your soft massage of his head. “It’s all right, little one. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

And slowly, hesitantly, he settled.

“‘Antarctica’,” you mused, shaking your head. “I’m surprised you survived that. Poor thing….”

You continued to talk to him; comfort him. After a solid five minutes of being stroked and cooed to, he actually leaned into your hand. You could tell he enjoyed the massage, reluctant as he was to admit it. A heavy sigh escaped your lips. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for the little fellow, even if he had been a bit of a butt to you earlier. How often did this kind of thing happen to him? Weekly? Daily? How often did he bath in this torment? You decided to ask him.

“Does she do this kind of thing to you often?”

He nodded, gaze still trained on you.

“Like… daily?”

He nodded again. You sighed.

“I’m so sorry….”

He actually shrugged.

“It’s… my life,” he coughed out, in a deep, chocolatey voice that was a little raspy. It was almost comical that a voice that low could come from something so diminutive.

“Well, it shouldn’t be your life,” you countered. “You don’t deserve any of this.” He simply blinked at you.

“How long has she had you for?”

He shrugged again.

“Over a year..?” he guessed.

“Over a year…. Sheesh…. How are you still alive?” you asked, actually chuckling a little… and regretting it immediately after. This was no laughing matter.

“I… I don’t know,” the Brain admitted, his body vibrating for a second as it released a shiver. For once, he looked away from you. “I don’t know….”

There was something in the way that he said “I don’t know”, something in the way his voice quivered a touch as it floated off into the air, that made your heart break in two. It was as if he himself couldn’t believe they’d held out as long as they had; that they hadn’t given up all hope by this time. It was a dry admittance, a sad admittance, and he blinked rather rapidly and sniffed after saying it, as if trying to bite back tears.

Any animosity you’d had for such a creature had completely dissipated by this point. His honesty. His helpless quaver…. They’d destroyed it. With all the more tenderness, you rocked him gently to and fro, taking extra care to massage his whole little body, as best he’d let you anyway, trying to iron out every last bit of pain trapped in those delicate bones. He barely even resisted, save for asking once why you even bothered to help him in the first place.

“Because I think you needed it,” was your blunt response.

He’d looked away a little shyly at this, before turning back to look into your eyes.

“Thank you,” he muttered, and it sounded sincere.

You simply nodded, smiling at him, continuing to rub out the pain as best you could.

8:47 PM. You tossed a frown at the clock. Mrs. Duff would be back in about thirteen minutes. The time you had spent with your new charge hadn’t felt like enough. You were fully aware that you couldn’t take him back to your place for extended relief. He’d have to return to Elmyra’s room, or, at the very least, be put back somewhere in the house before the mother arrived. This posed a bit of a problem, however, for by this point he’d fallen back to sleep in your arms. You stopped rocking him back and forth for a moment to simply… look at him.

He was so small. Much smaller than expected for a pet mouse. Perhaps he’d been a field mouse in the past? A body that fragile shouldn’t be thrown around in a house by a volatile little girl. He should be cared for; comforted; loved.

8:48 PM. He was actually snoring, so quietly it was barely audible. Despite yourself, you leaned down… and kissed him on the top of his head. He stirred, but didn’t awaken.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered again, swallowing thickly.

You looked at the clock. 8:49 PM. You sighed.

You couldn’t do this. You knew you couldn’t do it from the moment you opened the freezer door and saw him lying in there. Two hundred dollars a week wasn’t worth it. You were going to be fired and that was that. Screw the money. The thought of leaving the two mice in such a condition as this was unbearable. You couldn’t rescue all of her animals, of course, and you hated the idea of stealing, but this one had almost died.

8:50 PM. You groaned. This wasn’t going to be easy….

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Sunday morning saw you bright and early, topping off some pancakes in your dorm room with maple syrup, cutting up a few tiny pieces, and setting aside said pieces on a small napkin on a table. Two little white mice immediately stepped up. You smiled at them as you dug into your own, much larger portion of the breakfast, watching the sun rise beyond the balcony.

In the end, you’d chosen the lesser of two evils: voluntary departure. The moment Mrs. Duff had returned home, you’d politely thanked her for the payment, but regretted that you didn’t think you could continue to operate as babysitter. She’d been disappointed, but not surprised. It wasn’t the first time a new hire had quit so suddenly. The turn-over rate with Elmyra was high.

And so you left, leaving the two mice behind at the house, but had returned the next day around 1:00 PM while Elmyra was in school and her parents were preoccupied. She had a tendency to leave her bedroom window open, you see, and it didn’t take much convincing to persuade the mice to consider new living arrangements. The taller one, whose name turned out to be Pinky, was a bit uncertain, and felt bad about ditching without even a note of thanks or apology, but the Brain said it wouldn’t matter, that Elmyra would get over it soon enough and find some other tiny rodents to torture, and so Pinky relented. Not that you could blame him for being hesitant. You also felt bad about literally kidnapping them in this way, but you couldn’t think of any alternative.

Watching Pinky happily lick maple syrup from his lips, however, and observing Brain take notes on a pad while he chewed on pancake satisfactorily, you felt it had been worth it. Pinky still felt a bit guilty about ditching Elmyra so suddenly, but he seemed to adjust to change surprisingly quickly, and sweet breakfast food every morning was a-okay in his book. Brain was still getting used to you, and spoke only when necessary, but he hadn’t forgotten the freezer incident. When he did speak to you it was fairly formal and polite, and he’d even let you scratch behind his ears now and again. Pinky was undoubtedly the friendlier of the two, and you enjoyed spending time with him, talking about movies and playing board games, but there was a special place in your heart reserved for Mr. Grumpy. You figured that would always be there after what had transpired several nights prior. All you could see whenever you opened a freezer door now was an ivory, frost-bitten body trembling in your hands.

Bright sunlight was pouring into the dorm room now, alighting the chairs, the tables, the dishware…. Smiling, you stood up, plate in hand, and stepped out onto the porch, choosing instead to rest in one of the outside seats, the better to enjoy the day’s warmth.

Several minutes later, as you popped a piece of pancake in your mouth, something, or someone, crawled up into the chair beside you. You looked down. It was Brain.

“Hello,” you greeted him pleasantly.

“Hello,” he replied. He licked his lips a little timidly. “Umm….”

“Yes?”

“I…. Well, I… I just wanted to say that… you’ve…. Well, it’s… it’s nicer here than at Elmyra’s….”

“Glad to hear that. I would hope so,” you smirked.

“And… I…. Well, I… um…,” he stammered, scratching at his neck.

You smiled.

“It’s okay,” you said. “You’re welcome.”

He looked up at you, then back at the sunrise. A minute passed. Quietly, inconspicuously, he sidled up close to you, and leaned his entire body against yours, closing his eyes as he did so. Your heart warmed at this show of trust. Oh….

Gently, so as not to startle him, you brought up a hand and began massaging him.

“I love you, little one,” you whispered under your breath.

In response, he pressed closer against you. It wasn’t at all what you expected from him, but you gratefully accepted it all the same.

You both sat like that for a long time, enjoying the touch of the sun’s rays, Pinky finally joining in some moments later as he snuggled up to his friend. Brain actually wrapped an arm around Pinky... and smiled. Pinky hugged him back.

A grin tugged at the corners of your mouth as you watched them, before turning your attention back to the sunrise. Hot pancakes. A beautiful view. Soft mice. And no Elmyra. It was nice. 

As you petted the two little fuzzies cuddled up next to you, warm and full and far away from any girls who would put them in freezers, one thing became absolutely decided in your mind: no amount of money could ever substitute for this.

The End

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

Author’s Note:

I promised myself I’d never do a self-insert. Granted, that applied more to drawings, and even then I’ve made a couple of exceptions in the past, but writing out this kind of thing is still a bit embarrassing to me. I feel like it tampers too much with the canon universe, but, then again, so do AUs and even fan fiction in general. Every story is a “what if”.

This one came about, however, because I was inspired by a friend of mine, Shuun. She’d written a very sweet little story called Haven Forbid (which I suggest you check out), that was, in turn, partially inspired by a soft idea I’d had in which a young woman, taking on the job of Elmyra’s babysitter, discovers Brain trapped in the freezer and proceeds to nurse him back to health. The idea in general is one I’ve had for months and months and months. Whenever I daydream about cuddling and comforting Brain, it often comes back to this particular scenario. So, yes, it’s a flat-out self-insert. Ha-ha. I just normally don’t like sharing these things publicly, but Shuun inspired me to be brave. Heh. :)

Although this is written with a y/n perspective, the character of the babysitter is basically me. This is what I would most likely do if in this situation. Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain is a show that I not only abhor, but that hurts my heart terribly. The pain I feel regarding Brain, watching him get beat up, tossed around, thrown against walls, choked, and all manner of other despicable things, is nigh through the roof. So dearly do I yearn to rescue him from such a predicament that I’ve literally been in tears thinking about what he had to endure in that show, even though it’s technically not canon. He can be a little butt himself sometimes, but he absolutely did not deserve any of what he was put through in that series.

Hand me a little frozen Brain and I’d do exactly what you saw in the story. Let me warm him; hold him; love him; tell him he’s not alone…. He’d probably balk at a majority of it, but, deep down, he wants to be comfortable and secure as much as the next person. I have so much love for this little fellow. A lot of the time he needs a kick in the pants, to be certain, and occasionally he’d rather be left alone than spoken to, but once in a while, even though he’d never admit it, I think he also needs a kiss to the head.

(As a side note, the title of this story was… paaaaartially inspired by the famous “Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire” chapter title in The Hobbit.)