#Benny really does look strange in these colors

[clickerflight]

Benjamin Ashmaker

A handsome lad. The fae queen's beautiful husband. A caped compadre. Definitely no whump going on here. Definitely not. Nope. Don't look under the cut

BABBYYYYYYYYYY I love him so much

Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff 

@honeycollectswhump @whump-blog-reblogs @pigeonwhumps @mj-or-say10 @percy-frayer 

@currentlyinthesprial @scoundrelwithboba @whumps-and-bumps

[polina-tvorozhok]

Through Breeze and Pain/p.2

The sun was slowly coming down, painting the sky in vibrant colors like orange, pink and soft purple while reflecting in soft white snow.

After a hard day Poli was finally driving back to the rescue station. He couldn't wait to tell his friends about everyone's latest news. He has met Cleany earlier that day. She was choosing gifts for her friends Cap, Posty and Spooky for Christmas. Later that day he met Rody, Benny and Mini doing ice skating. As the most experienced out of the three, Mini was skating her way through the ice while doing some beautiful figures that impressed everyone including the police officer. Unfortunately, the ice beneath the car's wheels cracked causing her to fall into water. Luckily, Poli managed to get her out fast and drove the kids back to their homes as it was getting pretty cold.

While thinking about all the things that had happened today Poli didn't even notice how he had reached the station. To be honest, he really like how it looked in winter. With all the flowers withered away and the snow covering the roof, the building didn't look as welcoming as it usually does during the rest of the seasons. At least the inside was always the same, warm and full of cheerful voices.

Once the baby blue car was inside, he was greeted with cheering and laughter. He saw Jin, who was sitting in her usual place, drinking hot chocolate and laughing at stories that Helly was telling her. Roy was listening with visible curiosity to his stories while Amber was making some room for Poli.

-Hey guys. What are you talking about? I swear I could hear you laughing miles away from here.

-Oh, hi Poli! Replied Jin while taking a sip from her cup. Helly was just telling us about that Christmas festival we wanted to organise. So mr. Wheeler and mr. Builder want to participate and they want do a dance similar to that from the music festival. Do you remember? When they were wearing long skirts? Same thing but they will be wearing red Christmas dresses!!!

-Wait really?!? Those two always come up with some crazy ideas.

-Yes! I wanted to film their dance but my camera rut out of battery...said the little helicopter.

-Aw man... Mumbled Amber. Talking about Christmas. I was helping Posty today. Poor thing really burns himself out. Everyone wants to send presents to their families and the Post office is full of packages that still need to be delivered.

-Well why didn't you call me? Asked Roy. You know I'm always happy to help.

-Don't know. Maybe because you were dealing with all that snow at mr. Musty's house.

- Why what happened? Asked Poli.

- Oh, there was an accident. While he was cleaning his garden, snow blocked the door and he couldn't get inside. Anyway, how was your day Poli?

- Well you know, patrolled the city, met Cleany, got Mini out of the lake she fell in while skating with other kids. The usual.

Poli stopped talking for a moment. He remembered something strange that happened today. At Tracky's farm...

- Aside from that. There was something weird that happened today...

- What was it???

- Tracky called to his farm morning. You know that he has an emergency call station near his house. So today he found it almost completely destroyed. Boy was very worried about it.

Everyone was looking at the officer with their eyes wide open. From what it seems, the news had shocked them too.

- Is there any chance that it could be damaged by the storm. Asked Helly

- No. I inspected it and the markings looked like if it was smashed by something. It's the first time I have ever saw anything like that.

- Were there any tire markings?

- No. Even if there was they were most likely washed away by the snow.

- Well I think it was some sort of animal. Tracky's house is placed near the forest so it's very possible that an animal could get lost and attack the call station. Then, why would ANYONE on earth go out during a storm?! Said Jin as of the she didn't anything strange about the situation

- Us in the middle of an emergency? Said the green helicopter

- Except from us!

At this point everyone remained quite, thinking about Jin's question. Maybe she was right. Maybe it's just an accident and nothing serious is going on.

After a couple of minutes Amber jumped of her place

- Oh my!

- What?

- Our parents are visiting us tomorrow! Roy, we haven't prepared anything! Poli, can you please help Jin with cooking?

- Yes but when are they coming?

- Tomorrow morning.

- Holly crap Amber! It's almost night and we haven't bought anything!! Why are you telling me just now about it???

With that being said the baby blue car rushed to do some last minute shopping with his friend and left his crewmates to prepare their house for the great arrival of their parents

[anonymous-harpy]

Doddles done with the idea of Baby Vegeta being in @amiz06-certified-b1mb0 's Dragon Ball Human AU!

Amiz I apologize in advance if I'm too much of a weirdo!

And it comes with lore! (From my scattered knowledge HA)

Introducing Yōji! (He's Baby Vegeta I swear it, I just needed to give him his own name because fanfiction)

For the super serious lore -which I'm going to guess doesn't drastically change Vegeta's too awfully much: Yōji is here for revenge! His entire family murdered when he was young, but he does remember who did. (Memories broken) and he's been festering in his hatred for years. (The truth goes unspoken)After going out of his way to join the seedy underbelly of society and make connections he finally finds the son of the man who killed his family, but not wanting the Wrath of Bulma to come down on him, he has to figure out way to get rid of Vegeta without being linked to the murder. (Benny hill music as incompetent underlings can't do shit)

While investigating Vegeta and his new family, he makes good with the family's major rival. (Insert last name here because idfk what the lounge lizard's last name is supposed to be) Namely by getting in good with the older brother of Frieza. By being a good sponsor maybe? (I only say-slash-suggest this as Yōji in because when I was watching GT I was like "is that Andrew Chanler?" While Rildo was on and then that filter was put over his voice and I think I screamed "METAL COOLER!" because Rildo and Cooler share a voice actor. Tangent aside)

And I almost missed the part where Yōji notices he looks somewhat similar to Vegeta (I've even forgotten my NAAAAMMME!) and is maybe trying to run his name into the ground like Frost is accidently totally doing on purpose to Frieza. I'll be refining this grabbled mess of a plot thread some other time to explain why an Omnisexual Rock God would sponsor a Metal Band, but I really don't think that matters much when the topic is revenge, yeah? (*Yōji nods his head*)

I'll say he's albino, and he uses temporary color on his eyebrows and puts in Blue contacts to not be as standout. But of course he still stands out with his 80s Glitter Rock get up. Also he's got a tail. The fuzzy white around his hips is a tail because I like the way it looks, try and stop me from adding it!

And now for me to go off the deep end as I do as a fanfiction writer...

PleaseignoreYōjisoutfitthatwasdonebeforeifinishedhisbetterdesign

I'M SORRY COOLER I CAN'T HELP MYSELF

I swear one day this ship just randomly sprang to mind like a year ago and I've just held onto it because it's just a straight up crack ship and I don't usually like crack ships. So I'll stand by my crack ship even as it runs into an ice burg and sinks.

Less serious lore? It's that Yōji's plan derails into Cooler's handsome face but it never goes anywhere because the feelings are not exactly being reciprocated because Yōjis too gosh darn intense. The dynamics I write are strange and I'm sorry.

Alright I'm gonna just lie down and wallow in the anxiety

[advanced-imbecile-art]

honestly just do the whole thing for elias >:3c

Allrighty, you asked for this. Here's the whole thing for Courier Elias.

🌸- What's this oc's favorite and least favorite color?

Likes yellow, dislikes gray/silver

🌹- What's this oc's biggest fear

Other than fears acquired from being shot in the head and buried alive, he's afraid of being alone. Of not having friends.

🌷- How does this oc take their coffee?

At least some sugar if he can find it. Otherwise, black is acceptable.

🌻- What's this oc's mental health state?

Not good! He regularly hallucinates the night he was shot in the head and other strange things. On top of that, the chronic pain he has from being shot in the head wears on him, leading to Med-X addiction. And he gets a Dear John letter post New Vegas from Arcade because he just... can't stop being a Courier and won't settle down, so he's fragile about having been broken up with.

🌼- What's your favorite thing about this oc?

He's an awkward friendly guy who looks scary.

🌺- Which family member(if any) is this oc closest to?

His elder half-brother, Matthias. There's a lot of messy things going on in the Ables family, but at least he had the grace to recognize Elias was a blameless child and treated him kindly.

💐- Where is this oc's favorite place to relax?

Can't think of any place he'd strongly prefer. So long as there's water and something to block the Mojave heat out, he's good. Bonus points if there's friends around.

🌱- Does this oc have any pets? Do they have any pets they want?

Does ED-E count as a pet? He keeps ED-E.

🌲- What is this oc's greatest strength and weakness?

He's a very kind forgiving person and he's a very kind forgiving person. Elias, do NOT release Benny. He is just gonna come try and kill you and reclaim his plan.

🌵- How does this oc feel about physical affection?

Doesn't dislike it, but doesn't really 'get' it. Has to be in a particular mood to be enthusiastic about it, but otherwise generally tries not to touch people and gets stiff and awkward about being touched.

🌴- Who is this oc's favorite person?(Can be another oc, a fictional character, a celebrity, anyone)

He loooooooooves Arcade Ganon. Too bad he self-sabotages that.

☘- Does this oc have any piercings? Do they want any?

None. He figures his body has had enough holes put in it.

🍁- What's this oc's favorite genre of movies/tv shows/books/etc?

Not much of that around in the Wasteland. Probably likes the Silver Shroud well enough tho.

🌾- How does this oc get along with people they just met?

He tries, though first impressions are usually rough since he looks scary and is rather blunt.

��- Around when does this oc get up in the morning?

Early as he can manage. Have to capitalize on the few cool hours of the day that there are in the Mojave.

🍂- What music does this oc like?

If Mr. New Vegas is playing it, he's listening to it. He likes all that country stuff and misses it whenever he goes out of range of the New Vegas signal.

🌳- Does this oc collect anything?

Hard to be a collector when you have to travel light. But he does keep a small collection of letters that have been sent to him.

☀️- Does this oc make good or bad first impressions?

Bad. He makes too much eye contact, hardly blinks, skips pleasantries to talk immediately about whatever he needs from you, and will not stop itching his scars.

🌙- Does this oc have any unusual hobbies?

Being a mailman is basically his hobby? He's a weird little guy and wanted to be one since he was little.

🌟- Is this oc good at expressing themself through words or do they have to use other means?

He's just gotta hope whoever he's talking to has the patience to listen while he struggles to think of things more complex than "need food and water."

🌈- What does this oc like and dislike about themselves?

He enjoys that even though he's not what one might say classically intelligent, he can fix and robot, gun, or engine better than most. It didn't bother him at first, but after meeting people who genuinely liked him and a place he might've belonged, it upsets him that he can't seem to get himself to stay in one spot for very long.

❄- What is this oc's favorite and least favorite food?

He likes a nice Sunset Sarsaparilla and a good brahmin stew. Miss him with most of the bug meats though. He just can't manage that texture.

☁️- What is this oc's clothing style like?

More layers than you might expect. In a desert, it's important to keep the sun off your skin.

⚡- How well does this oc sleep?

Poorly. His head hurts all the damn time, his scars itch, and half the time he's gonna have a nightmare about getting shot in the head, suffocating on dirt, or some other wild vision that'll have him twitching throughout the night.

💧- What is this oc most passionate about?

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds" This man is so passionate about delivering mail.

🍃- Describe this oc in one word

Dedicated

[fleuraimer]

tw!! carmy has a shit family alright 🤷🏽‍♀️

back again bc boxer!carmy keeps beating at my skull the same way he beats the box bag so pt.2!!

previous part. next part.

boxer!carmy who follows a routine (can’t fucking function without one. not since he was 10. not since dad beat one into his brain. not since mikey said ‘fuck you!’ to everyone that ever loved (loves) him and blew his fucking—

…whatever).

(it’s not fucking whatever).

boxer!carmy who always, always, puts his all into sparring at the gym after his pre fight weigh-in, until the very last second. it’s written across his features, an expression of clear script, exposing the deeply ridden concentration and calculation he gives to ever pad he dodges and every punch he throws.

he can never sleep before a fight (can barely sleep, period), but he forces himself to drink some bullshit vudu tea eddie swears by (because as annoying as his constant preachings about it are, carmy can’t deny that it’s yummy), and he’ll play soothing sleep audios (trains; feels strange living over a city with honking horns instead of trembling tracks) to put his mind at ease so he can catch a few fleeting hours.

and yet, for whatever fucking reason, from the moment he stepped off that stage (bloodied and battered) and walked through the gym door—showered afterward, and drove home in a feverish haze—carmy can’t get himself to stop thinking about the color pink.

(feels younger, somehow. lighter. hasn’t fixated on pretty, meaningless shades and hues since elementary school, when mom still muffled her wails, when dad’s rum & coke had actual coca-cola in it, not just rum. when sugar wasn’t crying so much, and when mikey was… well, mikey).

boxer!carmy who doesn’t let this deter his performance any, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still there, present, lingering between the concentrated punches and calculated dodges, ringing in the dark recess of his mind as a soft mantra, a prayer.

he can’t remember the last time he felt like this—this—this gooey, hazey, molten infatuation that wraps around his limbs and bleeds into his flesh, disarming his devices, painting over his fluttering eyelids in vibrant, intimate pinks and dusty, pale reds. it’s maddening. it’s addicting. it’s…

god.

boxer!carmy who shows up to his pay-per-view fight like any other match day, crew by his side, dressed to impress in dark dress pants and a cream linen shirt, first few buttons left undone. he’s got all his signature rings and chains (only three of those, none too flashy), a small, golden hoop locked in each of his earlobes, and a sleek pair of christian dior loafers with sunglasses to match to shield his eyes from all the flashing lights (because paparazzi don’t know when to fucking quit).

he nods his head methodically to the music streaming through his beats headphones, and in the back of his mind he absently notes that the paps are being more aggressive than usual, but the thought is quickly smothered by more (subjectively) important, pressing matters at hand (though, it really shouldn’t be that hard to figure out; since when did his beats change from charcoal to pink?).

boxer!carmy who slips into his respective locker room beyond ready for this fight. always has faith that he could win (since before nacho and benny and eddie, when nobody else did), but something about this fight feels different. secure. a sure thing. can’t stop himself from, for the first time, actually not worrying about the outcome of this match because he knows. don’t ask him how, he couldn’t explain it (has never been good with turning thoughts into words), but he does, okay? call it intuition (if it was pretty and soft-looking, donned in pink with kisses of gold, and made you feel utterly defenseless, then, sure. intuition).

boxer!carmy who goes through fight preparations (tapping, mouth guard, etc.) with this smug fuckin’ look on his face that eddie notices—notices everything, the observant bastard.

“wha’s with the look?” eddie grumbles, gravelly and rich with wisdom.

carmy peeks at him through his curls. plays dumb (not well).

“wha’ look?” he asks, brows furrowed in a poor attempt to come across genuine, then looks right back down at his lap.

eddie levels him with a look that holds something real in his eye, raw.

“c’mon, kid.”

his eyes flit up again, and he shrugs. grins, like eddie’s never seen before.

“jus’ got a feelin’ ‘bout this one, y’know? i’ma win.” his words leave no room for argument. definitive.

and, as much as eddie would like to bring him down to reality, even he can’t deny that this probably will be the reality of the situation. he’s seen carmy fight before, he’s seen him keyed up for it. but not like this. that’s determination. it’s dedication, and preparation, and sleepless nights, and blood and tears and toil.

this is not that.

this is confidence.

this is fucking foresight.

“yeah, kid?”

carmy smiles so hard his secret dimple pops out. flits his eyes back down to his lap, and utters, “yeah, old man,” as he nods his head, still cheesin’.

and eddie smiles, too.

“alright, bear.”

boxer!carmy who walks through the underground tunnels of the o2 arena feeling good. light. and, even still, his hands, firmly secure in his gloves, sweat with anticipation. fingers, forced to gently curl, twitch and jerk, antsy.

he jumps up and down, inhales and exhales to ground himself, knocks his fists together, loud, harsh.

as he approaches the doors that lead to the roaring crowd, he recalls why he placed these gloves on his calloused hands to begin with (doesn’t think he could fuck up a 10 year old so severely, let alone his own child), and hears the gentle coo of a mother in his ear, feels the cradle around his fists…

there’s still a weight on his shoulder, though. a burden to be carried. a problem to be fixed.

boxer!carmy who considers himself and pretty capable guy. well rounded in most areas (more or less), despite the abundance of shitstroms he’s been through.

but he knows, there are some things that even he can’t do. not him. not carmy.

the bear, though…

well, there was absolutely nothing the bear couldn’t do (wouldn’t do—the bear; feral, insatiable, unstoppable).

boxer!carmy who walks out to a crowd who offers him nothing but boos’ and profanity as he strolls into the ring, but it slurs and muffles into scattered bullshit in his mind (thinks about it the same way he thinks about mom’s screaming, and sees enough red that he almost finds the kindness in his heart to feel bad for what he’s about to do to timmy boy. almost).

boxer!carmy who is never not professional, takes his job so incredibly seriously and values all that it’s given him so much it’s probably a little unwarranted. but he’d be lying to himself if he said he isn’t pulled (very slightly) out of his boxing mindset the moment he lays eyes on the pretty broad who stays hooked on timothy grayson’s arm.

dressed in pink. of course.

boxer!carmy who is only a man, one of the good one’s (obvi), but a man, nonetheless. he can’t stop the way his eyes flit around her form, her figure, hugged just right in that tensile lookin’ crocheted sweater dress she’s got on (baby pink, this time, with cute little 3D flowers and spaghetti straps and triangle cups that look seconds away from unraveling), decked out in gold jewels that don’t shine nearly as bright as her, standing pretty in kitten heels (baby pink, to match the dress).

jesus, her tits are practically spilling from that… flimsy fuckin’ thing, a cross settled between the valley of her cleavage, and a first initial.

T.

he bites back a deep grunt when his eyes locate her soft pout, and then those captivating brown sugar eyes.

boxer!carmy who, upon meeting her eye, is prepared to suffer a silent scolding. awaits the heat of a fiery glare with cool acceptance, but it never comes.

instead, those brown sugar eyes drip with something sweet and sensual, like honey. sticky.

the pretty broad in pink smiles, soft, sultry, and bites her plump, shiny bottom lip.

…oh, she is trouble.

his cock gives a weak pulse, half-hard and neglected, and carmy smirks as he watches those brown sugar eyes. sends the pretty broad a sly wink. feels a sick sense of deja vu, and catches timothy’s glare.

he can’t wait to finish this fight.

—

a/n: shld honestly js make it a mini series atp im so in love w this trope 🥸🥸

loosely edited/proofread!!

[unknownjpegs]

moby dick

“There,” Nomi says, softly petting up along Matilda’s neck. “This is very handy shit, Til.” She turns the aresol spray can around in her hands. Unsurprised that Matilda would have hairspray with SPF in it. No hair part sunburn for her; Matilda had everything, really. Thinks of everything. Nomi curls her finger around a long strand of her hair and softly tucks it back up into the bun she’s wearing it in.

Lark stands there, hands in his little pastel blue shorts smiling. The sun is behind him, which makes all his wild dyed blond hair look like its a bit on fire. Sometimes when Nomi catches Lark looking at her friend, he has this far off sort of distanced look. It says, holy shit, I’m lucky and she wants to shake his hand over it, because he is.

When Matilda rises up from the blanket, swiping hands over her thighs to wipe away imaginary sand, he steps forward. Lark’s finger toys with the zipper of her suit, pulling it down a little bit further and exposing the skin of her stomach. It’s like he forgets they’re standing in front of the little beach camp set up, because the back of his knuckles brush over the skin above Matilda’s belly button.

Benny had jokingly said to him, every guy alive is gonna stare. And Lark had said, that’s alright, I know how to fight.

She watches them go then, Matilda with a surf board slung under her arm. Lark following with the volleyball tucked under his. One of his hands dances across her lower back—he trails her all the way to the edge of the water. Gets his last little seconds being hip to hip with her. It’s soft. Cute. Makes Nomi sigh.

She hates the beach. Truly not built for it. She burns, even with sunscreen and she hates sand. Can’t figure out why a single person would willingly put parts of their body on something this disgusting. So she stays tucked up under the umbrella, on the blanket with her book and the best part is that Benji joins her.

He’s laid out, hands settled over his stomach with Xavier’s baseball cap over his face. It’s a faded eggplant color with an angry raisin cartoon on it that says RAISIN HELL. It’s almost corny enough to be endearing, and if the graphic isn’t, the way he’d knelt down and softly put it over Benji’s face had been. Shh, he’d said to Nomi with a finger raised to his lips. The boys sleeping. And Benji had slapped the back of his hand over Xavier’s thigh and made him laugh as he scrambled back to the volleyball game.

Benji had asked if she’d read out loud, which had startled her a little. They’re in a private enough spot that the noise from the volleyball game (and Mouse, chasing children, laughing wildly) isn’t reaching them as bad. Nomi finds the wind pleasant and even that isn’t too loud so she thumbs a cream colored page and does as he asks. Softly at first, maybe just to him, until she gets into the story and reads a little louder. With enthusiasm, maybe she even laughs a bit here and there because Moby Dick is so ironically funny sometimes.

After a while of it, she pauses though, mid sentence even, and looks over at him. He’s wearing muted pastel pink, a matching soft top and shorts and it looks good against his dark skin, the contrast real pretty. Nomi’s thumb brushes over the pages of the worn out paperback a little. She leans then, one hand to the blanket, the book sliding into her lap as her other hand lifts up the baseball cap belonging to his boyfriend.

Benji’s head rolls slightly to look at her. His brown eyes blink, lazy and content. And then Nomi breathes in a little, because suddenly it feels less like she’s looking at him and more like she’s Xavier looking at him. For a moment, it feels like she’s him, that big red head in love with this man. Because, God, he’s beautiful. His cheeks are a little ruddy from all the sun, his eyes lidded with thick dark eye lashes. His skin has a little shine of sweat to it, beads of it collecting across his throat. Nomi’s heart does a strange flip in her chest as he blinks.

It’s like she’s suddenly noticing that he has such heavy eyebrows and that his nose is curved in a way that makes perfect sense for his facial structure, brings all his features in perfectly. That his facial hair is thick and soft looking, like if you rubbed your cheek against his, it wouldn’t hurt, it would feel nice. Benji blinks again, and he smiles in such a gentle way—like he’s bone deep happy right now, here on this blanket, in the summers heat, like this is all he’s ever wanted—that Nomi gets it. Sometimes Xavier stares at Benji with a look on his face that suggests something is crashing around inside his head, loose and wild. She gets it.

Nomi remembers what it was like with Benny too. Like sleeping and suddenly waking up and realizing; he’s so pale you can see the blue veins in his thin wrists, he has a dimple in his left cheek when he smiles in that sleazy way he does, he walks with his hands in his pockets and he likes standing behind people because he doesn’t like others behind of him and his hair always looks bad because he can’t stop fussing with it and he’s beautiful, really, pretty and soft looking sometimes.

She remembers looking at Maran and realizing his hair was getting too long, to the bothering point and remembers shyly asking if she could be the one to shave it down. She recalls, in perfect clarity, like she will remember looking at Benji and finding him more beautiful than the sun, that her slim, pale hand fit perfectly between Maran’s shoulder blades. She even remembers leaning in and kissing the top of his head because that feeling had overwhelmed her and then sneezing from the little hairs.

“M’awake,” he says and Nomi gently puts the baseball cap back down.

“Okay,” she says, a high note in her voice before she clears her throat. “Good, ‘cause we’re at my favorite part. Ishmael is about to start in on whales.”

“He’s been doin’ that the whole book?”

“Just wait,” Nomi says, laughing as she picks the book back up and cracks the spine for the hundredth time to get it to open perfectly. She scoots closer to Benji. She lets her hand idly pet into his dark curly hair. Like petting a cat, she thinks fondly, with a rare smile on her face. “He gets weirder about the whales, trust me.”

—

“That broken?”

Xavier hold’s the ice cold bottle of beer to his nose and shakes his head as best as he can. He’d smudged off a little of the blood, the back of his hand somewhat wet with it.

“Noses are just dramatic,” he says, pulling away the beer. He clears his throat, because some of that blood had slid down his throat. “I’ll get a really hot black eye out of this, that’s all.” The volleyball had definitely made a horrible cracking sound against his face, but Xavier had probed all along the cartilage. It burned, but the beer helped. The cold, but also, Xavier gets a canine under the top and pops it, catches the cap as it comes off and takes a long pull.

He sighs dramatically when he wipes the back of his mouth and then he and Maran are staring at each other.

Sometimes, they occasionally still have those moments where Maran has this clear, you’re dating my best friend look on his face and Xavier has that you’re my boyfriends best friend look on his face. They’re not bad looks; because they get along. They can’t not get along. It’s not that Benji tethers them together (he does, really) but that they have so much in common occasionally. Make nearly the same joke, in different cadences, or have ideas on the same linear path. It had been easy, natural and effortless even if sometimes, it’s weird.

Xavier isn’t jealous, but sometimes, he wishes he could have been there, along for some of the stories they tell. Big, remember when moments that he finds himself wishing he could superimpose himself into. But, loving also that Benji has these moments with someone. Makes loving Maran also easy, because he got all that, with him. Makes Xavier’s heart feel a little too big sometimes, like all these people keep piling in and he likes the stretch.

He holds out the beer in offering with a smile.

“Aw, you sh-shouldn’t have.” Benny’s hand snakes around Xavier, snatching up the beer. The pale slip of a blond man slides easily between the two of them. “Nasty, what the fuck? Is this a Corona?” He then immediately shoves it back into Xavier’s open palm, sneering at him. Xavier watches Benny’s other hand as it dips a finger into Maran’s swim shorts, drags all the way across the length and snaps it. He’s got a slippery look on his face as he pats the man’s olive toned skin, darkened somewhat from the sun.

Ew, Xavier thinks briefly. Wait, is this how people feel looking at me and Benji? And then he immediately takes a few more swigs of beer.

Benny’s gone then, as quickly as he’d interrupted. Turns instead on the innocent pair under the umbrella.

“You have bad taste in men,” Xavier comments. He watches Benny take the book from Nomi’s hand. He tosses it down and slowly pulls her up. She’s squirming around, pale legs kicking as he hefts her over his shoulder. She’s yelping, no, Benny, stop, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Maran, stop him. Maran! “But like, really good taste otherwise.” Maran snorts, taking the beer from Xavier and killing it in one quick drain.

“Well, he’s free now, yeah, mate? Can go slobber on Benji like you been wantin’ the whole day,” it’s a quick and painless jab because he isn’t wrong. Half the reason the volleyball had gotten him right in the face was because he’d been staring at Benji. The umbrella didn’t fully obscure him from the sunlight. It caught against one leg, one dark calf. His foot would occasionally twitch like he was sleeping. Maybe he was. Looked so fucking content laying there with Nomi.

So when Maran inevitably ends up following Benny and Nomi to the waters edge, Xavier does wander over to their little spot they’ve staked on the beach. Benji hasn’t moved, even though Benny has definitely ruined the little bit of peace—he lays there, still, with his hands tucked up under his head, the hat Xavier had worn to keep sun out of his face on Benji’s instead.

He sinks onto the shorter man’s thighs, straddling there. Xavier leans over, bites the hat and tosses it to the side, grinning toothily when Benji’s face is revealed to him. His hands flatten on either side of Benji, fingers curling into the blanket Matilda had brought along. Benji smells like summer; like sunscreen and sand and the beach and himself. There’s a magnet in his chest that brings Xavier’s right to him, snaps them together nice and snug.

“Why’s your nose bleedin’?”

“Don’t ask,” Xavier replies, laughing and kisses him.

[mrsbrookegillespie]

⚝The Girl Next Door⚝ Vampire!Luke x Reader (Series)

(Not My Gif)

Vampire!Luke x Reader (My Babysitter’s a Vampire AU)

Description: Set in Season One (After The Movie) Y/N decides to stay around for a little longer for a unknown reason to the gang. With that comes new problems, more supernaturals, and more uncoverings of the secrets that lay hidden beneath her facade, especially when a new girl enters the town.

Warnings: mentions of death, minor violence, and probably typo. Also cringy My Babysitter’s a Vampire talk. Tried to make it like the show in the way I write.

One more thing... It’s long. Because this is the first one of the series I wanted this one to be long, but the other ones will be shorter, unless it’s a thicker plot.

Enjoy!!!

“Look who decided to stay…”

Y/N freezes for a moment. His chilling voice sent her heart pounding against her ribcage. “Could say the same for you.” She turns on her heels rapidly to face him. “New found freedom and here you are in this same small town, at a school that’s quite boring if I’m being honest.” 

Luke tilts this head. His eyes twitch, widening for a moment. “If it was boring there wouldn’t be witches and vampires roaming around. So, who knows what else is lurking around these corners…” He teasingly smiles at Y/N’s dumbfounded expression. “Am I wrong?” 

“No…” she sighs. 

“You’ve seemed to have caught quite a lot of people’s attention.” He side eyes the group of Freshmen boys gawking at her.    

“It seems I have.” She doesn’t bother looking away from Luke. “Luke.” His now yellow eyes fixate on hers. “I hope our previous encounters don’t get to your head.”

“I wish I knew what you were talking about, so please enlighten me.” He crosses his arms, subconsciously leaning towards her. 

“I mean… With me saving you.” 

“You didn’t save me,” he argues. 

A sarcastic laugh interrupts the confrontation between them. “Oh, is that right?” Sarah appears at Y/N’s side. “Because I think if she wasn’t there to rescue you, there would be a wooden stake in your chest right now.” She mimics Luke’s stance, Y/N awkwardly standing there witnessing this endeavorment.

Luke laughs, dryly. “Is that what you think? Well, I think if a pathetic girl--” 

“Right here,” Y/N mumbles.

“--could take you on, I could’ve survived your weak throw.” 

Sarah sucks on her two front teeth. “Come on Y/N, let’s get out of here.” She grabs ahold of Y/N’s arm tugging her away from the boy.

“Little strange that you’re buddying up with the girl who nearly killed you,” he shouts.

Weirded out glances are shot towards him. 

“You just had to save him?” Sarah asks.

“What? Would you rather me save Jesse?” Y/N responds, raising an eyebrow.

“Or how about no one?” 

Y/N huffs. “Think he’s going to be a problem?” She looks back at where Luke and her just were, only to find he’s disappeared. 

“The biggest,” Sarah answers.

“Yeah… Me too.” 

“Hey guys,” Ethan says, walking up to the pair. “What’s up?” 

“Just another lovely conversation with Luke,” Sarah explains. “Would still really love a reason from Ms. Magic over here.” 

Y/N puts her freehand up to mock surrender. “Don’t look at me,” she pauses. “Just doing my job,” she whispers to the point where no one else hears her. “Seen my cousin anywhere?” 

Ethan shakes his head, but it goes distracted when something catches his attention. “Found him.” 

They all turn to see Benny sweet talking to an unfamiliar girl. “Makes sense,” Y/N comments. “Who is that?” Her eyes narrow.

“No clue, never seen her around before,” Ethan informs. 

“She’s pretty.” 

They all jump, startled by Rory’s sudden appearance. “Where did you come from?” Y/N asks, harshly.

“Sorry, not as pretty as you Y/N,” Rory rushes, winking at her. 

She rolls her eyes. Benny and the new girl stopping in front of them. “Guys I want you to meet Clarissa, she’s new, and she actually just moved in next door to us,” he remarks. 

“Hello, Clarissa, I’m Sarah.” 

“Ethan.” 

“Rory.” 

Y/N stares at the girl for a moment. Something didn’t fit right in Y/N’s stomach when staring into her pure green eyes. They were almost too green. “I’m Y/N.” She bounces on the balls of her feet. “Benny’s cousin,” she adds.

Clarissa grabs Y/N’s hand without warning. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

“You have?” Y/N chokes out a laugh. “All good things, I hope.” She grew heavily uncomfortable when Clarissa stared intensely at the purple gem that was snug in the center of Y/N’s ring. 

Y/N pulls her hand away hastily, wiping it on her jeans. “Of course.” Clarissa’s sickly sweet smile almost gave her a headache. 

“Benny,” she grits through her teeth. “Can I speak with you?” 

Benny looks at her, confused. “What’s up?” 

Y/N clears her throat. “Alone.” 

With no verbal response she drags Benny to a corner where the rest of the group stared at the two. “What’s wrong? Is it Clarissa? Look, I know she’s coming off a little eager but--” 

“That’s all you’re getting from her?” Y/N exasperates. “Don’t you see her eyes they’re pure green, I think they’re magical contacts--”

“Magical--what?!” 

She gestures to where Clarissa was picking at Sarah’s hair. “And she’s wearing a headwrap-thing! And--” She aggressively points at her ring, “--she was analyzing it. I think she knows who I am, and people knowing what I am equals trouble.” 

Benny stares at his cousin like he’s witnessing a crazy person. “Okay, someone’s been overworking her powers a little too much.” He grabs hold of her shoulders. “Clarissa is just a lonely new girl, who just happens to now live right next door to us. And maybe she likes jewelry, and green is good. Nice color. And… You do know there is something called culture, right?” 

Y/N groans. “You’re not getting my point, I think she’s--”

The warning bell rings, cutting her off. “Gotta get to class, maybe you should go home--”

“But--”

“Get some rest.” Benny runs off, catching up with Clarissa.

“Okay, what’s got you all down?” Sarah asks, following the invisible lines Y/N’s making with her eyes, landing on Clarissa. 

“Something is not--”

“I had a vision,” Ethan blurts. “When I shook Clarissa’s hand.” 

“I knew it!” Y/N exclaims. “Snakes on her head, am I right?” 

Ethan shudders. “H-How did you know?” 

“Medusa, I can sense descendants wherever I go,” Y/N admits. “It’s my seventh sense.” 

“You mean sixth sense,” Sarah corrects.

“No, I mean seventh sense.” Ethan and Sarah furrow their eyebrows. “Hard to explain. We need to warn Benny, but I think she already put her spell on him.” 

“Spell?” Ethan questions. “What spell?” 

The second bell rings. “Let’s talk later, during lunch!” Y/N jogs away rounding a corner.

“The thing is…” 

“Ah!” Y/N screams when Clarissa slithers in front of her. “You…” She points an accusing finger at her. “Stay… Away.” Y/N makes a mental note of how her contacts were replaced with a dark pair of sunglasses. 

“You have something I need. You think I want to be this way, snakes for beautiful long hair, turning people into stone. Do you know how lonely it is? I turned my best friend into stone, no way to reverse her back.” Clarissa takes a step closer to Y/N.

“Well, there is, it’s just--AH!” Y/N falls back onto the floor when Clarissa pushes her. “A little more complicated because of…” Her voice fades off.

Clarissa’s eyes didn’t dare to look away from Y/N’s ring. “Because I don’t have that.” 

“So, you want my ring?” Y/N scoffs. “Well, you can’t have it. I’m not giving it to you.” 

Clarissa chuckles. “Like you have a choice.” 

“No, no, no, please don’t do this…. AH!” Y/N had no time to react before Clarissa’s headwrap fell, and she ripped her sunglasses off. 

Grandma gasps, placing a hand on her heart. Not wasting any time she rustles off of the couch, getting to work.

RING! 

“Where’s Y/N? She was supposed to tell us--” 

“Tell you what?” Benny asks, cutting off Ethan. ‘

“That--Clarissa!” Ethan fakes a smile when she comes into view. “Tell us--” 

“Tell us about her upcoming date,” Sarah finishes, nonchalantly. 

“Date?” Luke stomps up to them. “Y/N? On a date? With who?”

“With…” Sarah’s eyes search the area. “Rory!” 

The blonde boy stops, surprised. “What about me?” he asks.

“Your date with Y/N?” Ethan strains his voice, hoping Rory will be smart enough to follow along. 

Rory frowns. “Date…?” Ethan and Sarah nod, pointedly. “Date! Yes! Date. Date with Y/N. I am going on a date with Y/N.” Rory stills. “Wait, I’m going on a date with Y/N?! Sweet!” 

Luke’s jaw drops. “There must be a mistake,” he laughs. “She would never choose an idiot like you.” 

“And who would she choose… You?” Sarah ridicules.

Luke’s eyes flash yellow. “Well, thanks for the compliment. You don’t think I’m an idiot,” he replies. “Where is she?” He changes the topic.

“I-I think I saw her go home,” Clarissa chimes in.

Ethan and Sarah both avert their eyes to the girl. “You did?” Sarah glances at Ethan who undoubtedly thinks the same thing. 

“Yep!” Clarissa innocently smiles. “Why would I lie?” 

“Yeah, why would she lie?” Benny, oblivious of the situation, puts on the same smile Clarissa is sporting. “She’s new.” 

“Which means we know nothing about her,” Luke snarls. 

“Luke’s right!” Ethan confirms. 

“Is he?” Sarah’s voice goes a little higher, but on the inside she 100% agreed. 

“I’m going to go check on her,” Luke announces. 

“Why are you acting like you care about her?” Sarah snickers. “I’m coming with you.” 

“Sarah,” Ethan hisses, grabbing her wrist. Gasping when he makes contact. “I had a vision,” he confesses, letting go of her. “It’s urgent.” 

Sarah quickly glances at everyone before landing on Luke. “Just let us know if she’s there.” 

“Or how about you guys check after school?” Clarissa suggests. “And then if she’s not we can all help look for her--if missing of course. You don’t really want to miss school, do you?” 

Luke bursts into laughter. “You really are new.” And just like that he’s gone. 

“Woah, where’d he go?” Clarissa scans the room. “What are you people? First we have witches, and wizards and now--” 

“Wait, how do you know that?” Ethan interrogates.

“Guys! Chill out, I filled her in on Y/N and I being ‘magical’.” Benny does the quotations. “And how Y/N was a little freaked out by her, but it’s all good.” 

“You told her what?!” Sarah feels her anger rise within her. 

Luke opens the window of Y/N’s room, entering it. “Hello?” he calls out. “Y/N?” 

The door swings open, exposing Grandma on the other side. “Thank God, you’re here.” She runs to grab his arm. “She doesn’t have much time.” 

“What’s going on?” 

She takes him to the basement where Y/N sat on the table, completely made of stone. “She appeared right here, like this, not too long ago, but long enough where we’re getting close to the effects being permanent.” 

“What happened?” Luke walks up to Y/N.

“Medusa, or descendants. Has there been any odd behavior around the school? Or perhaps a new face?”  

Luke perks up. “Yes, there’s a new girl. A little weird, and--” 

“Tell me everything you know, and while you’re doing that, mix this up for me.” She hands him a bowl. “Hurry!” 

Sarah and Ethan continue to sit where they’ve been sitting for the last ten minutes. “How are we going to fix this?” Ethan asks.

Sarah scrunches her face when she realizes Ethan was actually asking for an answer from her. “Don’t ask me, this is not my area of expertise.” 

“If we don’t figure it out soon, you’ll turn to stone.” 

“I’m a vampire, Ethan, I don’t think that’s even possible.” 

“Well, you’re not a full vampire, maybe it’s different,” he disputes. “Look, I know what I saw, and I saw you turn to stone.” 

“So, what do we do?” 

Ethan stops again to think. “We… We need to use her own power against her,” he concludes. “But, we need Benny’s help.”

“Y/N said he’s under her spell, how are we going to take him out of it?” Sarah voices her concerns. “This would be so much easier if Y/N was here. Where is Luke? I knew we couldn’t trust him.” 

“Forget him, we have to figure it out on our own.” 

“I’m just--I’m worried. Y/N hasn’t just vanished like this before.” 

Ethan chuckles. “You obviously haven’t known her for as long as I have.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Ethan inhales through his nose. “We were all best friends when we were kids, it was always me, Y/N, and Benny versus the world. We thought she was crazy when she spoke about her being a witch, and having magical powers. But, she was still our best friend.” He frowns. “Then she left, and never came back. We never got an explanation as to why. She was seven and we were five… And, yet, we remember those days like they were yesterday, and then of course she randomly pops up out of nowhere ten years later. Knowing all of this stuff about me, vampires, magic, it just doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Well, she’s back now, you can get answers. Trust me, I’m just as curious as you for some things when it comes to her…” 

“Have you guys seen Clarissa?” Benny asks. “I haven’t been able to find her.” 

“What?” Ethan stands up. “She’s gone?” He looks at Sarah in alarm. “Benny, okay, I need you to understand this… Clarissa is Medusa, or descendant, or the same species..” 

Benny doesn’t move at first. “Funny, but seriously can you guys help me?” 

The lights flicker. “That’s not good,” Sarah thinks out loud. 

“Benny we’re telling you the truth, I had a vision, and Y/N she--” 

“She put you up to this. She was acting weird earlier. Where is she by the way?” 

“You won’t be seeing a lot from her anymore,” Clarissa’s voice echoes through the halls. 

“Is it just me… Or are we the only ones in the school right now?” Benny searches for any signs of life around them. 

“That’s your question?!” Sarah hisses. “Didn’t you hear what she said about Y/N?” 

“She’s probably just trying to scare us,” Ethan excuses. “We can’t make assumptions.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you guys, we don’t know if Clarissa is--Oh my God!” Benny makes direct contact with the lockers' reflection of Clarissa, snakes floating around her head. “Run!” 

Clarissa apparates in front of them. “Don’t look her in the eyes,” Ethan advises.

“No duh, Ethan!” Benny shouts. 

The locker doors slam open around them. “How is she doing this?” Sarah covers her eyes.

“I’m guessing Y/N’s ring,” Benny guesses. 

“How do we stop her if we can’t see her?” 

“Maybe I can help,” another voice declares. 

“Y/N?!” Sarah calls out. “Where have you been?” 

“I was stuck in a… Situation. But, Luke helped me.” Y/N smiles at Luke. 

“Bring it, now!” Grandma orders. Luke hands it to her. “Stand back.”

“What do you need me to do?” Luke asks, taking a step away from Y/N and Grandma. 

Grandma meets his concerned eyes. “Be there for her when she comes back… It won’t be pretty.” She holds up the potion pouring it all around Y/N’s body. “Here we go.” She internally prayed this would work, especially with Luke watching. She begins to mumble some words incoherently, a bright light coming from her hands. 

“It’s working,” Luke blurts in relief, when the grey stone starts to break off exposing skin. 

“AH!” Y/N screams when most of her upper body is free. She notices the way her hands were still stone, panic rising. 

Luke doesn’t hesitate his arms around her neck, settling her head in the crook of his neck. “You’re okay, it’s okay, you’re alright,” he assures, softly into her ear. Y/N can feel her fingers break free, gripping onto his shirt. “Shhh…” He runs his fingers through her hair. 

Grandma weakly smiles, slowly backing away from them, to leave them alone.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks when her cries settle down.

He pulls away, wiping the last fallen tears from her cheeks. “You went missing, and the rest were worried. I took it upon myself to… Find you. I also heard you were going on a date with Rory and I--” 

“Wait! So, Clarissa is at the school with my friends… ALONE?!” 

Y/N’s expression turns stern. “Now Clarissa, how about you do us all a favor and give me my ring back.” She moves close to Luke. “Take the rest, and hide.” 

“What? No. I’m not gonna protect some losers, and that would include me touching them…”  

Y/N takes a deep breath, breaking her stance to hold the bridge of her nose. “Luke, I swear to God I will go back in time and stab you in the heart myself if I have to if you don’t listen to me.” It goes silent. Yes, even Clarissa didn’t move a muscle. “Got it?”

Luke simply nods. 

“Back to business now.” 

“Magical contacts,” Clarissa states more than questions. “Smart.” 

Y/N shrugs carelessly with a smirk. “Learn from the best.” In less than a minute it was just her and Clarissa alone in one of the many creepy hallways of the school. “Now my ring.” She holds out her hand. “It’s not going to give you what you want.” 

“And how do you know exactly what I want?” Clarissa snaps. 

“It’s dangerous for someone not trained to use it, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Clarissa scoffs. “How are you going to do anything without this?” She points to the ring that rightfully belongs to Y/N. “You’re nothing without it.” 

Those words rang in Y/N’s mind. “That’s not true.” 

“Oh, but I think it is.” With a wave of Clarissa’s hand, Y/N goes flying back. “And with this ring I’m everything.”

Y/N winces as she stands. “You’re just going to hurt yourself.”

“Not a chance.” Another lifeless throw of Clarissa’s fingers Y/N falls to the floor. “See? Can’t even dodge a simple spell. You’re useless, and pathetic. It’s a miracle you can even call yourself a witch.” 

“See?” Y/N mocks Clarissa’s tone. “That’s where you’re wrong.” She stands up, strong. “I’m no witch.” She closes her eyes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, a certain friction being felt at her fingertips. She elegantly moves as though she is a flower in the wind, building up a bundle of energy at the palm of her hands. 

“I could’ve said that,” Clarissa laughs. “You know, I never thought someone like you could befriend so many vampires.” Y/N bites her lip to keep from distracting herself away from the task. “Who was that one… The one you arrived with. Seems quite special to you. With this ring, vampires will never be immune to my power, nor will any other supernatural when I learn how to get past your little spells. I will make you feel the pain I felt… Starting with that boy.” 

When Y/N opens her eyes it sends a shock wave towards Clarissa. What used to be her dark brown eyes are now a violent shade of purple. “Oh… There is no spell,” Y/N’s voice comes out more deep and demonic. “This--” She gestures to herself, “--is all me.”

“Uhhh…” Clarissa stumbles back.

“Told you I’m no witch.” Y/N creeps up to her. “And I’d watch what you say very carefully.” 

“It’s not poss--” 

Y/N raises up her hand, Clarissa following as she leviates in the air. The lockers that were open around them began to crumple. “Oops… I meant that to be you.” 

“AH!”

Sarah, Benny, Ethan, and Luke become startled by the sound of screaming. “What was that?” Sarah asks, slightly scared.

“Was that Y/N?” Benny starts to stroll towards the school. “We need to help her!” 

Luke harshly grabs his shoulder. “If we’re going to go in there we’ll need these.” He presents the clear contacts to the group. “They’ll block out her magic.” Luke’s thoughts drift off to earlier. 

“What do you need me to do?” Luke asks, taking a step away from Y/N and Grandma. 

Grandma meets his concerned eyes. “Be there for her when she comes back… It won’t be pretty.”

“Let’s go,” Sarah says. “Luke?!” 

Grandma takes his wrist before he follows Y/N out of the house. “Be there for her.” 

“What?” 

“Be there for her when she comes back from the fight,” Grandma guides, vaguely. “She can’t control it.” 

“Control what?” 

“Her emotions… Her powers… Her alter ego,” she explains. “The night she saved you, the night she almost killed Sarah, who do you think that was?”

Luke shakes the odd feeling off. Running after the rest. 

“Please, help me!” Clarissa pleads. 

“Who would ever help you? You’re a monster. You kill people with no remorse. What makes you more worth saving than anyone you’ve murdered?!” Y/N grabs a hold of the girl's wrist. “This belongs…” She plucks the ring off of her with magic. “To me.” Carefully sliding it down her own finger without touching it once. Y/N moves her grip to both Clarissa’s shoulders. “How about I show you the pain you caused?” Her eyes grow brighter as she clearfully shouts sinful spells at Clarissa. The snakes that make up her hair cower in fear as her body becomes more and more weak in Y/N’s hands.

“Y/N!” Ethan yelps. “What are you doing?” 

“Dealing with the enemy,” she answers.

Clarissa allows the tears to fall from her eyes. “Don’t do this! I’m sorry.” Y/N ignores the girl’s cries, and wails. 

“Y/N, you need to stop this.” Luke tries to get her attention. 

Y/N lets out a dark chuckle. “That’s what they tell her, right? To stop this side of her, to hide, well not anymore, not while I’m around will allow her to bury me once more in her pureness,” she pauses. “They will all. Feel. My. WRATH!” 

With a blinding flash of light everything went quiet. 

Everyone opens their eyes to find Y/N lying limp on the ground. “Y/N!” Her friends rush to her aid, huddling around her.

“Wake up.” Luke cups her face, patting her cheek gently. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he repeats.

Y/N gasps, her eyes fluttering open. “Guys? Wh-What happened?” 

“You don’t remember?” Ethan asks.

Y/N shakes her head. “No, I just remember Clarissa and--” She cuts herself off, looking around. “Where’s Clarissa?” 

They hear a squeak behind them. 

They turn their heads, Y/N lifting hers to see the damage she caused. “Oh my God!” she shrills when she sees a small snake on the floor. “What have I done?” She scrambles away from the group, going over to what she believed was Clarissa. “I have to fix this.” She picks up the snake.

“Y/N--” 

“Please,” she sobs. “I’ll fix this. I promise I will.” She sets the snake down, taking a deep breath. “I can fix this,” she tells herself. Her arms lift up gracefully, as she moves them around, almost like a dance. A soft breeze brushes everyone coming around to where Y/N sat. “Mmm… Mmm…” She hums a melody. “Water, Earth… Fire, and Ice, I bring thee together to create a new light,” she sings angelically. “Water, Earth… Fire and Ice reverse what I’ve done… Take in the curse and disperse it with love. Reverse the curse and I’ll pay back for what I’ve done…” A warm light glows from Y/N’s hands illuminating the snake that transforms back into the shape of a human. 

Clarissa opens her eyes, sitting up. A trail of long, golden blonde hair follows. “You did it.” She smiles. “You broke the curse.” She wraps her arms tightly around Y/N. “Thank you.” 

Y/N hugs the girl back.

Hiss! 

They pull away from each other. “Oh! I think you have…” Y/N points at the top of her head.

Clarissa reaches up to grab the small snake. “I guess someone had a curse to be broken too.” Her eyes meet Y/N’s. “Thank you, once again.” She giggles. “Sorry I stole your ring, and turned you to stone” 

“What?!” Ethan, Benny, and Sarah exclaims.

“Old news,” Luke mutters. 

“And sorry Benny about the spell I put on you.” 

Benny blinks a few times. “A spell?!” 

“I owe you my life,” Clarissa says.

Y/N waves it off. “You don’t owe us anything. You’re free now, so be free.” 

Clarissa, and Y/N stand up. “Then I must go… Find my parents.” 

Y/N’s eyes light up. “I might have something for that.” Y/N looks around, twirling her finger around to make--

“A compass?” Clarissa questions.

“This is an enchanted compass, think about what you’re trying to find and it’ll take you right to them,” Y/N explains, handing it to her. 

“I was wrong about you,” Clarissa starts. “I thought the ring made you who you are, but… It turns out it’s your heart that makes you everything…” She vanishes.

“Wh-where’d she go?” Ethan looks at Y/N confused.

“To where her parents are.” Y/N smiles. 

The sun shines through the windows, the bells of the school ringing as people walk out of the classrooms. “Where were you guys?” Rory asks. “You missed fifth period.” 

Everyone glimpse at each other’s reactions. “Magic is seriously weird,” Sarah comments. 

“You tell me,” Ethan agrees.

“I already knew,” Y/N admits. 

“When will I get one of those rings?” Benny questions. “I mean… I am a warlock too, and yet why can’t I do all the cool stuff you can do?” 

Y/N laughs. “I don’t know if I would call it cool, but…” She looks at Luke who hasn’t been able to look away from her since she woke up. 

“Are you okay?” 

Y/N is taken aback by his question. “I will be,” she answers, truthfully. “Thanks for being there for me.” 

“Why are they looking at each other like that, when Y/N and I are supposed to be going out on a date?” Rory thinks out loud.

Hearing only the last part of it Y/N looks at him in alarm. “What did I hear about me going out on a date with you?” She gapes at Sarah and Ethan who appear guilty.

“Was that Erica?” Sarah dramatically points the opposite way of them. “I was wondering where that girl was… Gotta go!” 

Ethan stands there awkwardly, as Sarah runs away. “Did Sarah just call for me to come with? I think she did, buh-bye!” 

And so there were three. “So? When is that da--” 

Rory gets cut off by Luke hissing at him. “It’s a no from her loverboy,” Luke bickers. “Leave it.” 

Rory pouts, but genuinely frightened by Luke, paces away. “It’s been a long day, I think I’m gonna go home.” Y/N runs a hand through her hair. “See you later, ‘kay?” She walks off.

Benny was left confused when the direction of her words was towards Luke and not him.

Taglist (Comment If You Want To Be Add, be specific if you just want to be added for this series or Luke Patterson in general):

@lovesanimals @charliegillespiewife @wanniiieeee

[gildedmuse]

Hey, everyone.

So recently I've (predictably) very not well. Actually, whenever I don't post for long periods, just assume my body is trying to kill me. But I've gotten messages from three people asking if I. Okay, which is super sweet. I am actually trying to work on the next All Hearts, a really long ZoLaw post and two request fics, but mixing chronic kidney pain and capitalist society's mandate to work 40+ hours is not recommended.

But to prove I'm okay and still me, here is some Shanks antics with him being a total slut while Mihawk and Beckman just roll their eyes and go along with it. [Shout out to @jhaernyl who not only listens to me ramble about this stuff, but actively encourages it]. I also have many thoughts on the latest episodes and so many screenshots it's embarrassing. Hopefully, when I'm in less pain, I'll get around to actually posting those. Otherwise I just look like an insane person who literally takes by the second frame shots every time Zoro is on screen.

.... What is that? I look like that anyway? Fair.

Shanks Is A Bad Influence

It feels like Buggy and Shanks split up after Roger's death (the crew was told to, and they are the only ones who went to his execution) and I find it impossible to think Shanks didn't immediately set out and find a crew; like, pirating is the only thing this kid knows in life. This means two things:

He set out from East Blue. Also, he seemed at ease and familiar with the East so it's possible he spent like a year there getting everything together. Maybe he even played around in the other blues for a while before heading back to the Grand Line. I say this because his crew is from all over so either he found and recruited them in the Grand Line or visited various blues. Either way, I'm gonna say it took him about two years before getting a 'proper' start. In that case, he would have started out properly at the age of 17 and we know One Piece likes it's parallels.

That still puts Shanks at 17 to Benn Beckmen's 28. How the fuck did Shanks manage that? I'd call it grave robbing, but let's face it, the little tyke probably got up to some actual robbing of graves as well.

My point being everytime Shanks teases Mihawk about keeping this 19 year old kid on his personal island, mostly shirtless, Benn Beckmen just lifts an eyebrow.

Excuse me, captain, who had prefected the 'opps still don't have my sea legs' trip-and-fall into their first mates lap by the age of 17?

Shanks: Beckmen, you caught me! *Shamelessly nuzzles up* Thank goodness! I could be a devil's fruit user after all and - Ahh!

Benn: *Drops Shanks straight over the side of the ship into the water*

Shanks: *Sputtering* What what that!?

Benn: Checking to see if you had eaten a devil's fruit on us, Capatin.

Benn: You didn't.

Smart ass. But he can't resist Shanks forever. Shanks will wear him down eventually.

Next time Mihawk tracks him down for another match - because you know he gets bored way quicker than he'll ever admit and Shanks is at least amusing a challenge - Shanks makes a big deal out of how Mihawk follows him around, "accidentally" revealing they slept together, sighing about how it's so hard to resist him.

Benn Beckmen is just leaning against the side of the ship, sipping his booze.

Shanks: -and I can't stay for hours like last time!!

Mihawk: Are you quite done?

Shanks: *whispering* Does Benn look jealous?

Mihawk: He looks bored. Much like I am. Is this some strange attempt to get out of my challenge, Akagami?

Shanks: What? No, come on I told you I was game. But, hey, could you do me a favor? Maybe like try and kiss me or something? Like take a swing like your going to hit me but then stop shot and grab me by the waist instead.

Mihawk: .... Trickery is beneath you. Besides, you're absolute rubbish at it.

Shanks: Oh, come on, I would totally help you get laid if you asked!

Mihawk: .... *Sigh* I want a proper match afterwards.

Mihawk: *In a forced, monotone voice* After this I will take you to my lair and have my way with you, Akagami.

Mihawk: ... My lair? Really?

Shanks: *Holding up cue card with quickly scribbled line* What? That is how you talk.

Mihawk: I can't believe I wasted precious hours of light tracking you to this atrociously rural port.

Shanks: See? Now, read the next one.

Benn: Captain? If this is going to take all night, I am going to go join the rest of the men in the tavern.

Shanks: Huh? Wait! Benn! What if Miha really stabs me this time!?

Benn: *Salutes Shanks with his bottle* Sounds like that is his plan captain. Have a good 'challenge'.

Shanks: What? No... *Reaching out hand, like he might die if Benn leaves, looking completely devastated* Not even a little jealous...

Mihawk: You couldn't have thought that pantomime would actually work.

Shanks: Benny, don't leave me.... *Turns to Mihawk, immediately brightening* Oh, well, there's always tomorrow. Hey, Miha, guess whose free all night and horny as a pirate in the calm belt?

Mihawk: .... *Sigh* Very well.

Mihawk might as well get something for the trip he made. Although, he's reconsidering if the sex was actually worth the trouble after he ends up listening to Shanks worry half the night that Benn is shacking up with someone else (after a couple hours of rough and raw fucking, admittedly).

Is it the hat? He likes his captain's hat. Miha, you think his captain's hat is sexy, don't you?

Mihawk: It's utterly ridiculous.

Shanks: ....

Shanks: ....

Shanks: *Smile* Ahh, Miha, I knew you liked the hat!

Shanks: What do you old Northerns find sexy?

Mihawk: I am only four years older than you.

Mihawk: And silence.

Trying to convince Mihawk to go spy on Beckman for him. Shanks doesn't actually care if he does sleep with someone else, it's more that Beckman didn't immediately turn angry and jealous like Buggy would have that has him paranoid.

Mihawk is going to fuck this annoying red head again just to shut him up.

Mihawk: Maybe he doesn't like red haired boys who don't know when to be quiet?

The next morning Shanks is pacing among his poor crew that's gotten stuck listening to Shanks obsess about Beckman again. IS IT REALLY THE HAIR!?

It's not even a matter of Shanks's age (or obvious immaturity). I mean, Beckman got on board and stayed, didn't he? Beckman just enjoys watching Shanks try so hard to get his attention. Like Benn's attention isn't constantly on Shanks. He had to when his captain is always one step away from disaster.

He only left him with Mihawk because it was clear Dracule is not a real danger to Beckman's captain.

Except maybe insulting him to death. But Beckman is pretty sure Shanks can handle it. He's met Buggy. He's suspects Shanks LIKES it if anything.

It gets to the point where when they dock somewhere and see Mihawk waiting, or come back to the ship and spot his familiar silhouette, most of the crew goes off somewhere for another drink (sometimes the newer kids will stay to watch such an awesome fight, everyone else is like... Look, you'll have plenty of opportunities later. This is not a one off.)

Benn just takes a look around, nods to Mihawk (a silent signal for, "he's all yours, do with him as you please, if anything happens to him I will track you down and make sure your last few hours on this blue world are as painful as humanly possible") and heads off.

Oh, it's just the Hawk boy.

That's fine then.

Benn use to be a sailor on a trade ship between the North, East, West and Grand Line. He's seen it all.

They called him The Gun Slinger BEFORE he joined Shanks's crew and became a pirate.

So this young, broke ass kid from the streets of some near artic northern island trying to pass himself off as a Lower North rich type has a thing for his captain? Not really enough to keep Beckman up at night, no matter how good at swords he's supposed to be

Besides, he's pretty sure for the kid to keep tracking down Shanks, he must be bored out of his skull. He's not going to do anything to endanger their captain.

Not if Shanks is the only thing he can find to keep him entertained.

One day, Mihawk is going to be waiting on the dock when a bunch of Red Haired pirates are stumbling home, laughing and chattering amongst themselves (Shanks's crew always seems to be in a good mood). One of them will catch sight if Mihawk and walk by with a smile, patting him on the shoulder.

The captain's occupied. Seems likely he'll be 'occupied' for a good while, too.

Mihawk won't smile, but he will think "So you finally warmed him up to you, Akagami?" and snort lightly.

Poor Benn, though. Mihawk could never imagine being with someone so much younger than him. Shanks is only four years his junior and already it strains Mihawk to put up with his occasional moments of "youthful whimsy" (aka being an annoying, immature child)

"A young, cocky pirate with strangely colored bright hair"

Mihawk just putting that on his Not To Do List.

That lasted until Roronoa.

(Mihawk just looking at Zoro knowing this is bad news.)

Mihawk: *Takes list from Benn*

*Cross out, scribbles*

*Hands back to Benn*

Do Not Do:

- A young, cocky pirate with strangely colored bright hair a silly hat, who is overly dramatic and in any way, shape or form related to Gol D Rogers.

Ace: Hey what's up?

Mihawk: *Takes list from Benn*

Go ahead, Benn, laugh it up. Mihawk is aware he has a type. Young, pretty, and utterly insane.

After that night where Shanks was otherwise 'occupied', it's over six months before Mihawk sees his friend his rival again. He is, as expected, far too smug and proud looking.

Shanks: Oh, Miha, so sorry you came all this way, I'm-

Benn: Well, I'm off, captain.

Shanks: What!? But we, you, I... Benn, hessoeexyarentyouworriedforyourcaptain?

Benn: *patting Mihawk on the shoulder* Have fun with him. Don't forget to return him by noon tomorrow, we have a schedule. Oh, but if you can babysit him for at least four hours? That would be great.

Shanks: BABYSIT!?

Mihawk: I suppose I can be troubled to do so.

Shanks: TROUBLED!?

Benn: Thanks, Hawkeyes. I owe you.

Shanks: *Fake tears clinging to his lashes* You two are so mean!

No, don't feel bad for him. Shanks is just trying to guilt the two of them into bed at the same time, and they both know it.

Thanks no thanks, they're not into that. But Shanks can be pretty cute when he's trying so hard (Benn) and at least he's not as boring as everything else in this world (Mihawk) so they allow him to keep up the act

Shanks: *looking at Zoro's wanted poster over Mihawk's shoulder* But I feel like you'd gladly go to bed with him and his captain if he asked. That doesn't seem fair to me. You'd never go that far with me and Benn.

Mihawk: *Eyes Benn*

Mihawk: *DEAD. ONLY.*

Mihawk: I have my reasons.

They can and do agree on plenty of things, including reciprocally not being that attracted to each other.

Shanks: Sounds fake to me

Shanks: But guys!

Shanks: This isn't about you

He's gonna need you guys to drop the egos and focus on what HE wants. I.E., being in the middle of two sexy Northern men.

Honestly, so mean to poor Shanks!

[janicho88]

Falling For You -Part 4

December

Pairing-Eventual Dean x Female!Reader

Word count- 6071

Warning- Slight angst, jealousy, one or two swear words,  fluff.  Slow burn.

A/N- I had an idea for a one shot, and giving a backstory to Dean and the Reader meeting took on a life of its own. This story is AU  Thank you to @waywardbeanie and @whatareyousearchingfordean​  for helping me keep these 2 characters in line and letting me bounce ideas off of you.

Summary- After being burned before you had sworn off finding love for now. Coming home from work one night there is a strange man pounding on your door.  Neither of you knew what this meeting would lead to. 

Series Masterlist

Your parents Christmas party was two weeks away, but you had a lot of baking to do, and none of it was started.  Why did you procrastinate?  Oh yeah, not much freezer room here when they are finished, and you had been hanging out with Dean.  Coming home from work on Monday, you got a quick workout in before planning to spend the evening in the kitchen. 

 Recipes out, and ingredients spread on the counter you started working on your first cookie.  Tonight you decided, was peanut butter night, which meant making the dough for peanut butter blossoms first, it would sit overnight and cook tomorrow while you were mixing other dough.  Santa’s peanut butter cookie bars, and the last item of the night no bakes.

While working on the cookie bars there was a knock on your door which had you pausing to answer it. Hands a little sticky you answered the door as best you could. 

“Hey Dean.”

“Hi Y/N, um, you got a little something here, and a here.”  He pointed to one side of your face and then your forehead.  Wiping it off with your hands you made a bigger mess.  

“Moved out almost a week and you forgot where Sam lives already?”  You teased him letting him into your apartment.  

“No, I came over to see if you would like to grab some food with me.  I think you might be a little busy though.”

“Yeah, I’m working on deserts for the Christmas party at my parents in two weeks.  Your invitation should be coming any day, I hope you, your brother and Jess can come.  I know Cas and Meg will be there too.  I was in the middle of baking, but you are welcome to hang out if you want.”

“I got it today actually, I’ll be there.  Have you eaten?”

“No, I haven’t thought about it yet.”

“Alright, so let's order a pizza, and I’ll help with quantity control in the kitchen.”

“I won’t have much for you to control tonight, but pizza sounds good.”

While the bar was cooking you got everything ready for the no bakes, deciding to start them after the pizza arrived.  Eating at the counter next to Dean, he told you about the shop he was working in.  He really liked Bobby, said he was an old grump on the outside but a teddy bear underneath.  Bobby’s wife Ellen  helped with the book keeping some days, she also owned a bar a little outside of town.  He invited you to go with him, Sam and Jess to check it out sometime. Benny and he got along well, he also ran the kitchen at the bar in the evenings.

Santa’s peanut butter bars came out as you were waiting for your no-bake ingredients to boil.  Dean went to cut a piece after you had set it down.

“You know that’s going to be extremely hot right?”

“It will cool in a minute, everything is better right out of the oven.”  Shaking your head you went back to stirring your pot. “Oh that was good,” came from Dean a few minutes later.  “When did you start baking?”

“My mom used to do it all, I’d help with what I could when I was little.  Dumping in the ingredients she already measured, or stirring the batter after she mixed it.  When you’re a kid you think you are so much help.  Then we started doing it together as I got older, I learned from her.  Over time I’ve found some of my own recipes to make, or put my spin on others.  The last couple of years I’ve taken on most of the party baking, but there are one or two things we will make together for it.”

“You’ve got a real talent for it.”

“Thank you, but you don’t have to humor me.”  

Dean wasn’t sure what to say to that, just looking at the back of your head while you were stirring. “It can be a great stress relief too when I’m frustrated with someone or something. It also forces me to find time for the gym.”  You continued on not noticing his pause. 

You had made a double batch of no-bakes and when they were ready, had talked Dean into helping you spoon them out.  As the pot they were in cooled down Dean stuck a finger in the still soft cookie batter before putting it in his mouth.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Trying to keep a stern face as you looked at him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry did you want a taste?”  He dipped another finger and spread it over your lips before tapping your nose.  Neither of you moving, eyes locked on one another before Dean’s ringing phone broke you apart.  He went into the living room to take the call, while you wiped off your face and tried to figure out what that was between you.  Nothing, right?  You guys were just friends, neither of you wanted more, you were seeing things that weren’t there.

“That was Bobby, I have to go.  There is a late delivery coming into the shop he was expecting in the morning and he isn’t there to let them in.  You um, doing anything this week, or weekend?” He seemed a little more hesitant when he asked that.

“You’re looking at it.  Maybe some cleaning and decorating I’m a little behind on it.”

“You need any help?”

“I don’t know about help, but I’ll always take the company if you want.”

“Okay, I’ll see you sometime this week.  Night Y/N.”

“Night Dean,” locking up after him you let your thoughts drift to the green eyed man causing you so much confusion.  Two months ago you both wanted to avoid relationships, you still didn’t think you were ready to get back out there.  You really didn’t want to misread anything from him and scare him away either.    

It was Friday night before you saw Dean again, a knock coming just after 5:30.  This time he appeared at your door with beer, and burgers. 

“Hi, you didn’t have to bring food.”

“Did you eat?”

“No, not yet.”

“Did you have anything here to eat?”

“I probably could have figured out something.” 

“Yeah, the burgers were needed. This way more time to work on whatever tonight's project is.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.  Tonight's goal is frosting the sugar cookies I baked yesterday, making the frosting topping for the Cranberry Bliss bar, and the cake for the petit fours.”

“I’m not sure which question to ask first.  I’m going to go with what the hell is a petty four?”

Not able to hide a smile and small chuckle you looked at him as you handed him a plate for his burger and fries.  “Petit four, ever seen those small cake looking things that are like an inch or smaller, decorated fancy?”

“Maybe?  I pay more attention to the pie.  Speaking of, are you making any of those?”

“Not exactly, I have cherry pie cookie cups. Petit fours are a type of cake with layers of frosting and I also do a fruit filling in mine too.”

“Sounds complicated, but back to where are these cookie pies?  I think I need to check them for you.”

“Sorry, I was out of freezer room here, they already went to my parent’s freezer.  And yes, they are complicated.  I’ll make the cake today, then it has to cool and slightly freeze,  the filling, frosting and glaze will get made this weekend and then put all together.”

“I don’t have that kinda patience. Next question, what are you going to do with all this?”

“It’s a big party, we go through a lot then.  It will go back in the freezer after, and the week leading up to Christmas we’ll get it back out and make up trays to give away to friends, business we deal with, and have some left over for Christmas.”

“What does one have to do to get on this list, sweetheart?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure one will find its way to your door. 

“What all is on your party list?”

“The things from Monday, and tonight, buckeyes, cherry cheesecake bar, two different truffles, fudge, cranberry cookies, candies, white chocolate ginger cookies, and choc cherry brownie bites, polar bear faces and some candies.”

“Next week is helping mom clean, with any last minute decorations she hasn’t done, then food Thursday and Friday night. Saturday is the party, Sunday I might not get out of bed.”

Dean laughed at that, “I never said I was joking Winchester.”

“Alright, alright so what are we doing first?”

“You really want to help me?  You are welcome to turn on the television and just hang out.”

“Nope, I’m here to bake sweetheart.”

You offered to let him pick something on tv, but he declined so you turned on Hallmark Christmas movies to help you both get in the Christmas spirit.  Dean helped you put together the cake for the petit fours, so that could get cooking first.  Frosting sugar cookies was next, you had done a few cut outs, but you preferred plain old circles.  It saved time and could be decorated any way.  The frosting colors were always tied in to that year's decoration colors.  This year was blue, white and silver, unfortunately you hadn’t found a silver paste coloring yet.  You were going to make three different shades of blues and a simple white. The powdered sugar needed to be shifted still to help keep the frosting smoother. You gave that job to Dean while you got the rest of the ingredients ready.

“Oops,”  you heard from behind you.  Turning around Dean had put too much powdered sugar in at once then apparently leaned over to see what he was doing. Now he was wearing some on his face and shirt. 

“Here,”  handing him a wet rag you helped him clean up a little. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier to use store bought?”

“Yes, but this recipe tastes better, has a better consistency for decorating with it, and dries so I can stack them without ruining the design.”

“Whatever you say Betty Crocker.”

The two of you both grabbed some cookies and started to decorate, at one point you looked up and had to look away so Dean wouldn't see your smile.  The man really likes his sprinkles apparently.  

“Wow!”  You looked up quickly to see what caused that reaction from Dean.

“What?”

“Your frosting on those, that’s like store bought good.”

Feeling the blush heat up your face you smiled at him, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice over the years.  Watched a lot of decorating tips too.”

It was a lot of fun decorating the cookies with Dean, you goofed off a little and tried to “help” each other with the cookie the other was working on at that time.  That ended with some, let’s say interesting looking cookies thrown in with the others. 

“Hey Dean,” You got his attention while you headed to the sink with the last of the remaining frosting.  “I think you got a little something right here,” as you tapped him on the nose with a blue spoon quickly getting out of his reach. 

While you were standing at the sink he came up behind you and wiped his frosted nose on the shoulder of your dark green shirt.  “Dean!”  Neither of you could hold in your laughter.

The last task of the night was the frosting to the Cranberry bars.  Dean had snuck a few bits of everything tonight, but you didn’t care.  He had earned it.  This had been the most fun baking you had had in a long time.  

Neither of you had to work tomorrow and retired to the couch to watch a movie when you were all cleaned up.  The temperature had dropped this week and despite the heat being on still a little chilly in the apartment.  There was  a blanket behind Dean he grabbed before sitting next to you and tossing it over you both.  You didn’t realize as the movie went on you leaned a little closer in to Dean until he put his arm around your shoulders anchoring you close.

Dean was telling you about his week and how he met the owner’s step daughter, Jo, this week.  She had been in everyday to take care of the paper work for Ellen since she had problems at the bar to take care of.  According to Dean she was a bit of a talker, and kept coming to the back of the shop where he was working.

Oh you fool, you thought, she’s trying to flirt with you, not just talk.  “Was she just there this week?”

“Not sure, I heard her tell Bobby she would be happy to take it over if they wanted her too.”

Of course she would,  she wants to see you, went through your head, but all you said “Oh,”  You're not looking to date, you have no right to be jealous of her flirting with Dean or hanging out with him at work.  Not that he would be interested; he only wants friends right now too, but you found yourself worrying about Dean falling for her.  

Dean looked around your apartment as he was walking out, “Not much time for decorating yet?”

“I’m going to work on that tomorrow.  What about you?  How is your house coming?”

“I only had a few decorations I put up, I won’t be up here anyways.” 

“No?  Your parents aren’t coming back up?”

“No, we are heading to them.  Jess’ parents are going on a cruise that leaves the 26th so Sam and her are heading to see them before Christmas and will meet us in Kansas. I took the week of Christmas off, I’ll drive there either the 20th or 21st and come back here the 27th.   Are your parents staying in town for Christmas?

“Yep, we have it at their house every year, and my aunt should be good to travel by then.”

“That’s good, see you tomorrow.” 

“What?”  He just winked at you and shut the door.  Did you have plans you were forgetting?

Late Saturday morning while you were fighting with branches there was a knock at your door.  A bright eyed Winchester was waiting to be let in, his coffee in hand.

“I didn’t have plans today, and thought I’d give you some help.  Plus I wanted to see how the petty things went together.”  He looked at the corner where you had been working, “What is that mess?”

“That’s my tree, thank you very much, and it’s petit four.”

“You know real is the way to go.”

“Says the man with no tree.  Maybe it is, except when you live alone, and would have to water it and check it everyday and you have an allergy to the branches making you break out in red itchy spots.”

“Okay, you win.”

Dean helped you get the tree together and put the ornaments up.  When you finished with that you got the petit fours out to finish. Dean watched you adding layers to the bottom half of the cake, then put the top half on doing the same, helping when he could.

“Getting the glaze on is the hardest part, mine never look as good as ones you can get in a store.”

“I think they look awesome, if I tried these mine wouldn’t be half as good.”

You had ingredients in your cupboard for pasta so you started that inviting Dean to stay for dinner.  The night ended much like the last with the two of you side by side watching a movie on the couch.

The next week was pretty busy for you helping at your parents, it went fairly quickly though.  Usually during the week you will talk to Dean a few times and text almost everyday, even if it’s just sending the other a funny picture.  This week you hadn’t heard from him at all.  Guess he was too busy at work with Jo. 

The party had been going on for an hour and you still hadn’t seen Dean yet.  Sam, Jess, Cas and Meg had all arrived half an hour ago.  

It was thirty minutes later when Dean finally arrived. Finding his brother and friend first he said hello to them before looking for you.  Finally spotting you talking to a group of people, he hung out behind you for a few minutes before a woman looked up at him and said hello.  This had you turning around.

“Hello Dean, so glad you could finally make it.”  Was it chilly in here or just your voice.

“Oh, you’re Dean!”  Exclaimed the woman who first spotted him.

“Yeah, that’s me,”  he gave her a small smile.

The woman looked to you before going back to Dean, “It’s nice to finally meet you, it seems like my daughter has forgotten her manners. I'll introduce myself, I’m Alicia. It's nice to meet you. Y/N said you had helped her with the baking last week.  I have to say you two make a great team, thank you for helping her.”  She glanced over at you looking at the floor, “I need to go check the food, I’m sure I’ll see you around, Dean.”

“Sorry I’m late, I got called back into work.”

“The shop closes at one on Saturday’s, it’s 8:30 now. Did you walk home and then here?”

“No, Jo was trying to finish up paperwork for November that had to be sent in today.  She called me in to explain some of the notes, and expenses.  Bobby and Ellen were out of town today so she couldn’t ask them.  It took awhile and she wanted to grab dinner, I told her I had a party to be at, but she kept pushing and I went with her for one drink.”

“It’s fine Dean, nothing said you had to be here when it started, or stay the whole time.  Have fun, your brother and Cas are around here somewhere.  I need to go check the dessert table.”  

Turning and quickly walking away, Dean was too caught off guard by your distance to follow right away.  You had never given him the cold shoulder like that, he didn’t like it.  By the time he caught up to you again, someone else had pulled you into conversation.  Waiting a few minutes for you to finish, finally deciding to go find Sam and the rest of that group when you didn’t.  He was fairly certain you were upset with him, and that didn’t sit well at all.

He passed by the food set up in the dining room, and kept going.  As much as he was starving when he got here, he seemed to have lost his appetite now.  Meg and Jess were gone when he rejoined the guys.  He pretended to listen to their conversation, but he wasn’t really there.  Why were you so mad, was it because he was late, or did something else happen?  Why did you care when he showed up, there were numerous other people here.  His original plan was to come early and see if you needed help, but going over paperwork with Jo took much longer than expected.  She couldn’t seem to concentrate on her work.   

Excusing yourself from the family friend who cornered you , you made your way to your old room.  Needing a few minutes of alone time to calm yourself down.  You were jealous, but no way would you admit that to anyone else.  Your door opened minutes after you shut it, looking up Jess and Meg walked in sitting across from you on the bed.  

“Partied out already, or hiding from someone?”  Meg gave you a knowing look waiting for your answer.  “You do know Dean is downstairs right?”

“Neither, I just needed a minute, too many people down there for me.  Yeah, I know he finally showed up, not that I care”

“Liar,”  spoke up Jess.

“The two of us are completely sure you being up here has nothing to do with a green eyed bowlegged mechanic you have been looking for all night.”

“Nope, not at all. Why should I care if he spent the evening helping the boss’ daughter do paperwork, or that he took her out for dinner.”  Staring at your friends you didn’t say anything else. 

“Yep you're just fine,”  when you didn’t say anything else Meg continued, “know we are here whenever you want to talk about whatever is going on in your head.”

You all rejoined the party.  This was always one of your favorite nights as much as you were looking forward to having Dean here tonight, you weren’t up to seeing him right now.  You had caught up with your friends on and off the rest of the night.  Mostly when Dean had stepped away.  You were ready for the night to be over.

Sunday morning Dean stood outside your apartment door knocking without any answer.  The door behind him opened but he didn’t realize it until hearing a voice he knew well.

“You know I live in 43 right?”

“Yes, bitch, I do.  Y/N lives in 44.  She was off last night and I wanted to talk to her.  Picked up breakfast on the way over so she wouldn’t have to make anything.  But if she doesn’t open the door I can’t give it to her.”

“Jerk, It’s still a bit early, did you text her?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t respond.”

“You’re welcome to wait for her in here if you want to try again in a bit.”  After knocking again, he followed Sam inside.

Rolling over in bed, you reached over petting the dog laying next to you.  You missed having a dog around, but your apartment wasn’t pet friendly.  Grabbing a sweatshirt you made your way downstairs to see what your parents were up to.  You had decided to spend last night in your old room so you would be here to help with any more clean up this morning.  It was a good hour later when it finally dawned on you that you hadn’t checked your phone this morning.  Picking it you realized the battery died, and you didn’t bring a charger.  You were the only one without an iPhone so their chargers wouldn’t work on yours.  That will have to wait till I get home later.

Getting off the elevator later that afternoon you ran into Sam.  “Hey, Dean was looking for you earlier, but you never answered your door.  He waited for awhile, but had to get going.”

“I stayed at my parent’s last night, and didn’t take a charger for my phone.  Thank you guys for coming last night.”

“It was fun, thanks for inviting us.  When your phone has a charge, text Dean back, he has texted me a few times since he left asking if I’ve seen you.”

“Alright, talk to you later Sam.”

When your phone finally had some life you sent Dean a text apologizing for missing him when you weren’t home.

“Can I come over?” Dean texted back.

You had to debate with yourself whether you wanted him to or not.  He had done a lot to help you last week, and been a much needed friend.  Did he really deserve the cold shoulder because you were jealous?  You texted back ‘If you want.’

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door, putting on a smile you let Dean in.  Maybe you could pretend your behavior last night didn’t happen. 

“Hi Dean.”

“Hey Y/N, thanks for letting me come over.”

“Not a problem, how was your day?”

“Alright, a little worried my friend is mad at me, and I really want to fix that. I’m sorry I was so late.  I was actually going to come early and see if you needed help, I’m sorry work got in the way.  I tried to bring you breakfast this morning so you wouldn’t have to get out of bed and mess with anything this morning.”

Guess he wasn’t going to go along with your plan to pretend it didn’t happen. “I’m sorry Dean, I shouldn’t have gotten that upset.  You didn’t have to be there right at 7, I was excited to have you there last night and it shouldn’t have mattered when you came. I should have enjoyed having you there when you arrived.  I ruined it for both of us, I’m sorry. Sorry, I missed breakfast with you this morning.”

“It’s okay, I just really don’t want to lose my friend.  If you really wanted to make it up to me, go shopping with me tomorrow night?  I need some help with Jess and Mom, please?” He gave you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. 

“Sure, I still have a bit to do also.”  Dean had been the best thing to happen to you in awhile, you didn’t want to lose him either.  Hopefully a night at the mall could help things go back to the way they were. “Pick me up after work?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Have you eaten dinner yet? I have leftovers from the party if you want to stay for dinner?”

“Seriously? Yes, I  didn’t end up getting anything last night.”

Both of you worked in the morning, so instead of starting a movie after dinner you just turned a tv show on.  Tonight you two didn’t sit as close as you previously did, honestly you missed it. You made small talk, he asked how things were at your parents’ house.  You told him everything cleaned up fairly quick, staying there made you miss having your dog around. 

Snow was lightly falling on the way to the mall, you were hoping for a white Christmas. Dean asked about your day, not much happened for you at work.  He was telling you about a classic car that just came in he was working on.  He really enjoyed his job, his green eyes shining as he talked about the different parts that needed restoring.

Arriving at the mall it became clear Dean really didn’t have any ideas on what to get either woman, so you offered various suggestions in the stores you were in.  Finally getting Jess done, Dean picked up a scarf you knew she wanted, and some fun picture frames to go on her collage wall.  His mom was proving trickier.  

“Any hobbies?” you asked, leaving the 6th different store. 

Dean thought for a moment, “She does like horror movies.”

“Yeah, I’m coming to realize you are all obsessed with monsters.  How about not for Christmas. Any place she mentioned she would want to go?”

He thought for a few minutes “Actually I heard her talking to Jess about a new place that opened up in town.”  When Dean finished telling you about you pulled out your phone to see if you could google it.  Finding what you needed you explained your idea to Dean and what you could get up here and what he would need to get once he was back in Kansas. 

With that  accomplished you two wandered around a few more stores looking for items to fill the rest of your lists.

Thursday was the next time you saw Dean, running into him in the apartments’ parking lot.  He was on his way to meet Sam for something.  Making small talk in the elevator, without thinking you asked something you didn’t really want to know.

“How’s Jo been?”

Dean gave you a funny look, “I don’t really know,  she hasn't been in the shop the last couple days.”

“Oh, I thought you might talk to her outside of work.”  What are you doing Y/N, do you really want to know this.  

“No. I don’t really have a reason to need to talk to the boss’s daughter outside of work.”

“Okay.  I have something in my apartment for you, I meant to drop off.  If you have time stop over before you leave.”

“Is it pie?”

“Sorry, not this time.”

When you got inside your apartment you went to check and see what ingredients you had in your cupboard. Finding pecans and a pack of crescent rolls you decided to whip up something quick.  A little over an hour later you heard a knock at your door.  Inviting Dean in you walked back over to the kitchen where the timer was going off.

“Something smells amazing.”

“I didn’t have any fruit to make a regular pie filling, but I did have some pecans I never used for the party, I made you a pecan pie bar, I hope it’s okay.”  You could almost see Dean’s mouth start to water.  “I’ll get you a fork and plate.”

“I don’t need a plate, the pan is fine.”

While Dean was eating you grabbed the item you picked up for him from the spare room.

“I know you don’t have a tree because you won’t be here for Christmas, but I thought you needed something.  Even if it’s not real.”  You had picked him up a little prelit tree and decorated it to have in his house.  

“It’s great, thanks Y/N.  You didn’t have to do that though.”  Dean gave you a hug as you set it down next to the pan of bars. 

“I know, I wanted to.  You can set it on that skinny table you have and set the presents underneath it after you wrap them.”

“Oh, that’s right I have to wrap them.  Hey sweetheart, do you think you might come over one night and help me with…”

“Seriously Winchester?  How would you ever make it without me, do you even have paper?” Laughing you agreed to come over Saturday and wrap what he had.  

“Of course I do.”

Knowing you were just hanging around the house and wrapping presents you put on yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt to head to Dean’s knowing he would be hanging out in sweats by now too.  Sure enough he answered the door in a grey henley and black sweats.  The fireplace was on in the living room and with the presents and wrapping paper on the coffee table.  Dean ordered pizza and found Die Hard on tv.  He was sitting on the couch watching you work, when you looked up at him.

“Are you planning on helping me at all or just watching?”

“Which answer won’t get me in trouble?” The bitch face you sent his way might rival Sam’s.  “I was kidding, I was just watching how you do it.  Very nice wrapping by the way.”  The roll of wrapping paper flying at him barely missed his arm. 

Two presents into Dean wrapping, you knew why he wanted help.  When the pizza arrived you set him free. Finishing the last gift you leaned back against the couch rolling your shoulders to loosen them up after being hunched over.  Dean was sitting up on the couch behind you and  leaned down to rub your stiff shoulders. 

“Thanks for that.”

“Least I could do for you wrapping those.”  Before you left for the night you put the gifts under his tree best you could.

You spent the next week trying to catch up with your own Christmas shopping, get the cards in the mail, and trying to find time to just enjoy the Holidays.  Friday night you, Charlie, Meg and Jess donned your best ugly sweaters and leggings, spending the evening at your place vegging out and watching movies.  

You woke up early Saturday morning to head to Dean’s house before he left. Knocking on his door he was surprised to see you.

“I just wanted to stop over before you left.  I brought you some of the desserts to take to your parents house.”  You had given Dean a plate of them the weekend before when you came over to wrap.  “I expect those to make it to Kansas so you better put them in the trunk.”

“I don’t know sweetheart, I might need a snack for the road.  Eleven hours is a long trip.”

“I figured you would, there is a bag of the cherry pie cookies in there for you.”

“You are too good to me.”  Giving you a kiss on the cheek he walked past you to put them in his car while you followed him over. 

“Do you need help doing anything before you go?”

“I’m all set, car is loaded, just have to refill the coffee in my travel mug, wash the pot and lock up the house.  

Waiting while Dean finished with his coffee you walked out to the car with him.  “Have a safe trip, and Merry Christmas.  See you when you get back.”

“Thank you sweetheart.  Thanks for your help and the cookies. Have a Merry Christmas yourself.”  With a hug you walked to your own car watching the Impala drive away. 

You were definitely going to miss him this week. A little after one that afternoon you received a text from Dean saying he was in Springfield, Illinois and halfway there, he would text you when he arrived at his parents. Around seven, that text arrived along with a picture of a house you were guessing belonged to John and Mary. The two of you talked a few times over the week, he called later than usual Tuesday night, and seemed to be really down.  

On Christmas Eve you went to Mass with your family before heading to your parents house for dinner with your grandparents, some of your parents siblings, and cousins.  Games followed and a few hours later the house cleared out.  You spent the night there since you would be having Christmas morning there with your dad’s family.  Dean had texted you a few times throughout the day, Sam arrived today so you hoped he could help his brother with whatever was going on. 

Christmas morning you sent Dean a text before helping your mom with breakfast.  Your dad’s family spent the morning at the house before heading elsewhere for the afternoon.  Your mom’s family started coming over around 2, they stayed for dinner and games.  You loved your family but were glad to have an empty house spending time with your parents when everyone was gone.

That evening you went back to your apartment.  Sitting on the couch looking at your Christmas tree you saw a big gift bag Jess had dropped off before leaving town.  She told you you couldn’t open it till Christmas, that was now right?  Grabbing it you brought it back to the couch with you. 

First you pulled out a big oddly wrapped lump, unwrapping it you found a Chocolate Lab plush.  He reminded you of your dog you had growing up. The next item was a t-shirt that had you cracking up.  In the bottom of the bag was a card.

Y/N, 

I think this goes to show what we both already knew, I can’t wrap worth a damn.  This guy reminded me of the pictures I have seen in your apartment.  He might not be able to follow you around, or bark at strangers, but hopefully he can keep you company.  I got a laugh out of the shirt and I hope you do too.    

Merry Christmas Sweetheart,

Dean

  Dean called you later that evening.

“Hi, Merry Christmas Dean.”

“Merry Christmas to you Y/N.  How was your day?”

“It was good.  Scooby and I are relaxing back home now.”

“Good, um who’s Scooby?”

“This really cute chocolate lab plush that my good friend got me.  Thank you Dean, he’s great.”

“Not a problem Sweetheart. Glad you like him, Scooby?”

“That was my dog's name growing up, I was a big Scooby Doo fan.  Still am”

He started laughing, “So was I.  Yeah, I wouldn’t rush to change the channel if it was on now either.”

 The two of you talked more about your days.   He was ready to leave, but Sam and Jess were riding back with him, and he didn’t want to pull them away yet.  Something happened while he was home, he didn’t sound like himself.  If you had to guess it was why he called you Tuesday night.  You wondered if you would find out what that was.

Part 5

Thank you for reading!

Tags  @talesmaniac89​ @katehuntington @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie​ @deanwanddamons​​ @smol-and-grumpy @emoryhemsworth@anathewierdo @malfoysqueen14 @superfanficnatural @jensengirl83​ @atc74 @sandlee44​ @akshi8278  @fantasydevil2002

Falling For You tags- @halesandy​ @abuavnee​ @hearteyes-j2​ @vicmc624​ @440mxs-wife​ @wonder-cole  @maralisa124​ @krazykelly​​

[katsidhe]

Ranking Every SPN Season Premiere

15) 11.01 Out of the Darkness, Into the Fire. For an otherwise strong season, s11 sure started and ended in D tier. Not only is there a baffling amount of screen time spent on Cas’s weird and uninteresting rage spell, Crowley’s sexcapades, and too many one-episode characters, but the whole thing is sewn together with uneven flashbacks. The core concept itself is off: Darkness-as-rage-zombie-infection feels totally out of place in the rest of the season, and any personal fallout from 10.23 is mostly brushed aside. The only thing I like about 11.01 is Sam’s determination to find a cure and save everyone, and the mention of the cage.

14) 10.01 Black. Just because I do quite like demon!Dean’s apathy doesn’t mean it’s gripping television: he’s much better in 10.02 and 10.03, and most of 10.01 is spent on Crowley’s overdramatic griping. Cole is objectively very silly, but, look, I’m only flesh: Sam bloodied and in a sling and tied to a chair is good content, and rescues this one from D tier. 

13) 15.01 Back and to the Future. Just like 11.01, 15.01 has to brush past Dean’s willingness to execute a family member in the previous episode, and it introduces a pretty weak zombies plot. However, it gets major points for Sam’s bullet wound visions, and is generally much better staged than 11.01.  

12) 6.01 Exile on Main St. A genuinely interesting episode for Dean--both his domestic montage and being faced with Samuel are fresh takes on his relationship with family. Soulless is great, but isn’t quite hitting his stride; 6.01 lays groundwork but hasn’t yet built into s6′s greatest strengths. 

11) 3.01 The Magnificent Seven. This one’s kinda campy, but there is some legitimately horrifying imagery, like the guy forced to drink drain cleaner. The deadly sins demons are underwhelming on the whole, but Ruby shows up in fine form, and Sam’s anger with Dean’s willingness to throw his life away establishes a great tone for s3. 

10) 8.01 We Need to Talk About Kevin. Kevin is badass, Amelia is amazingly, unapologetically polarizing, Dean is raw, and I don’t really care about Benny. Sam is in a healthier spot right here than we’ll see him for a long, long time, which tees up his anti-recovery arc quite nicely. 

9) 1.01 Pilot. It’s a solid introduction. Sam and Dean’s chemistry is potent and undeniable from the get-go. The way they work together so well, layered on top of so much conflict both spoken and unspoken, the things they want and the things they deny wanting--their first time interacting as adults out from under their father’s influence. It’s good!

8) 12.01 Keep Calm and Carry On. Look, I pretend to have complex opinions, but actually I am very, very simple: I just want to watch Sam tied to a chair and tortured. This is the best BMoL episode of the season by a long shot. On top of that, Mary’s introduction forces the uncomfortable and fascinating realization that she’s not going to fit quietly into Dean’s expectations. That final scene of Sam hurt and imprisoned without hope is gorgeous and memorable. 12.01 promised a lot for s12, and it’s a shame that most of it didn’t get followthrough.

7) 14.01 Stranger in a Strange Land. These next four are difficult to arrange, because they’re all so different. This episode has pretty much the only even vaguely interesting material AU!Michael gets all season. Far more importantly, Sam has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it’s a great look. He has a beard, and he’s looking after Nick (!!), and he’s leading a group of hunters, and he declares that Hell itself better stand the fuck down. Sam for King of Hell 2k18. Iconic. 

6) 2.01 In My Time of Dying.  John’s deal, and his directive for Dean to save Sam or kill him, is a major turning point that colors everything for years. The human intimacy of the small-scale family drama, unfolding with no magic besides a terrible soul deal to rely upon, feels personal and real. Plus, Sam and Dean communicate via ouija board.

5) 5.01 Sympathy for the Devil. Meg and Zachariah are both in fine form. The apocalyptic set pieces are teed up and ready to be set loose. Sam jumps on the bandwagon of his own castigation, and it aches. Lucifer’s introduction is quiet, and chilling, and note-perfect.

4) 13.01 Lost and Found. It’s hard to significantly change the landscape of a 13-year-old show, and for the better, but 13.01 does just that. Jack is a breath of fresh air. His dynamics with Sam and Dean are complex and heartbreaking--he asks after his father, Sam locks himself in a cell with him. Dean’s blank absolutism mixes uneasily with Sam’s relentless determination and Jack’s innocence. It’s a wonderful new twist on an old formula.

3) 4.01 Lazarus Rising. Dean crawls out of his own grave, Sam’s with Ruby, Cas blows out windows and burns out eyes. 4.01 throws the mythological doors wide open with the introduction of angels, and ratchets the season up to an apocalyptic scale: it’s awesome. 

2) 9.01 I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here. I am always and forever intrigued by Sam’s Mind Forests. Dean does something unforgivably horrible to Sam, and in doing so, opens the door to a fascinating arc, wherein his choices here and his treatment of Sam are deconstructed and then reconstructed and then deconstructed again. I’ll never get tired of season 9, by which I mean I’ll never get tired of the fallout from the BOLD choice that 9.01 made to put this conflict front and center. 

1) 7.01 Meet the New Boss. If you thought I wasn’t going to put Hallucifer first, you must be extremely new here. Sam’s psychological undoing is chilling and deeply claustrophobic and possibly my favorite thing the show has ever done. On top of that, we have Godstiel’s terrifying purges, Sam and Dean summoning Death in someone’s living room, and even a taste of cosmic horror in LeviaCas. I would tell you how many times I’ve watched 7.01-7.02, but I’ve wholly lost count. 

[upamongthestarss]

When Love Walked In//Bill Denbrough

a/n: please be kind! this is my first time publishing on tumblr, and i’m not the best writer 💘 oh, and warnings! very mild nsfw, brief mention of self harm (blink and you’ll miss it)

Y/n takes a drag and squirms under Richie’s glance, just knowing that he’s going to pick on her, as per usual.

“Hmmm…. Y/n, truth or dare?”

Figures. “Um, truth.” Better to be safe than sorry when it comes to Richie.

“What was the farthest you and Bill have ever gone?”

Her cheeks turn pink as she passes the joint to Bill, her boyfriend since the age of thirteen. “Well-”

“Was this really necessary, Trashmouth?” Ben interrupts. “I’d much rather not know about my sister’s sexual life, thank you.”

“Close your ears if you want to, Benny,” Y/n giggles while he fumes over the nickname. “Probably just hickeys and groping.”

“Really? You’ve been dating for three years and that’s it?” Stanley raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, St-Stan, y-y-you talk to m-me when you’ve lost your vir-virginity.”

“Come on, Big Bill, we all know you’ve been ready to have sex with her since sophomore year.”

Richie knows he messed up right away, especially as everyone stares at him accusingly- everyone but Y/n, who awkwardly looks around the room and sings under her breath like she didn’t hear.

“N-nice, R-R-Richie,” Bill whispers.

“Bill, I am so sorry.”

Y/n still feigns oblivion and scans the room. “Bev, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she shrugs, continuing the game. Y/n tries to forget about what happened until it’s time to leave the clubhouse. Her ride, conveniently enough, is Bill.

He didn’t want to leave his car on the outskirts of the barrens, so instead he pedals Silver to the clubhouse and back, with Y/n squeezing the living daylights out of him. It’s a quiet ride back, save the strange, existential comments Bill occasionally makes and her singing Can’t Fight This Feeling on repeat. It’s not until he’s almost back to Y/n’s house that she gathers enough courage to say what she wants to.

Because, in all honesty, she’s been ready to have sex too, just way too shy to say so.

“So… when do your parents come back from their cruise?”

She asks it casually, as if to wonder what day their English test is. In fact, it’s so casual that Bill doesn’t even take the hint (although it may not help that he’s utterly stoned at the moment).

“T-Tuesday.”

“And are you doing anything Saturday night?”

He skids Silver to a stop on the pavement. “No…”

“So what time do you want me to come over?”

*********

Singing happily, Y/n twists the last strand of hair around her curling iron and lets it tumble over her shoulder. She’s struggled with self esteem issues in the past, but she personally thinks she looks beautiful right now. While she puts on her pineapple lip gloss, her brother comes into the bathroom to grab some ibuprofen.

“You look awfully nice to sleep over at Bev’s,” he comments.

She freezes. “Yup….”

“Is there a reason that you’re so dressed up?” he gestures to her lavender party dress.

“We’re, uh, going to see Pippin at the fancy theater,” she fibs smoothly, but her twin sees right through her and smirks.

“Oh, funny, I thought opening night was next week?”

Y/n glares. “Okay, fine, I’m sleeping over at Bill’s, okay? But you can’t tell mom, please?”

“I don’t know, Y/n, this is a pretty big secret to hide.”

“Come on, Ben, I keep all of your secrets!”

He gives a cough that sounds a lot like the beer in my room.

“Hey, that was your own fault for breaking my favourite tape.”

“It was an accident!”

“It wasn’t an accident when you took it without asking,” Y/n puts her hands on her hips.

Ben sighs, not wanting to lose this argument. “How about this- if I get our car for the weekend, I won’t tell mom.”

“But Benny, I need that car to get to Bill’s!”

“You just made things ten times worse for yourself by calling me that. Besides, I’ll drive you there. It’s the car or no deal.”

She knows right then and there that she is out of luck. Her brother cannot bluff for his own life, so she has no choice but to agree.

But she can’t stay annoyed for long because she’s beyond excited for what’s coming. Her knee bounces in anticipation the whole drive, and she even sings along to the radio (which isn’t anything new, except for she’s louder than usual).

When Ben pulls up to Bill’s driveway, Y/n kisses his cheek and hops out instantly. He has to shout for her to come back and grab her duffel bag.

“Be safe!” he tells her. ”Love you!”

“Ben, I LOVE you!” she waves her hand off as he drives into the distance.

Bill’s waiting for her in the doorway, wearing jeans, a flannel, and a smile.

“Hey, Y-Y/n.”

She runs into his open arms and takes in the faint smell of his cologne. She already has butterflies.

“Y-you w-want to order a p-p-pizza, or-?”

“I’m honestly not that hungry,” she admits. “Are you?”

He shakes his head truthfully.

“D-d-do you w-want to go up-upstairs?”

“Sure.”

Bill leads the way to his bedroom, though she’s been there several times. He can’t get her out of his head. Her angelic curls, her dress the color of lilacs. She’s more lovely than a flower. He can hear her singing sweetly as they climb to his room.

“Love walked right in and drove the shadows away. Love walked right in and brought my sunniest day.”

He remembers when she sang that song at her recital last year. It was a true song for both of them.

When Y/n first moved to Derry, people made fun of her brother for his weight and herself for her nose and quirky personality. Her self esteem plunged and she refused to talk to anyone about it. Friendless and hopeless, she would cross-hatch her forearms and eventually stop singing altogether. But then her brother met the Losers, and encouraged Y/n to hang out with them some time. She instantly bonded with Bill, who had low self esteem because of his stutter and mainly because he blamed himself for the death of his brother. With the Losers, Y/n began to feel like she belonged again. She had friends that loved her for who she is- personality and nose included. Bill and her developed crushes on each other and in early August, following the Losers’ brief separation. One night during that time period, they spilled all of their issues on each other. The night ended with an innocent peck under the stars in his backyard. Love walked in and saved them both. After Pennywise was defeated, the two encouraged each other to see a therapist. Slowly but surely, they got healthy, and Y/n started singing again. In fact, she never stops singing now. It drives Ben quite mad sometimes.

She sings better than anyone he knows, and anytime she lets that sweet voice go, he melts.

“I m-made a tape. F-f-for… you know. But I’d m-m-much rather y-y-you sing for us.”

She giggles softly at the thought of her singing while he moans. “A tape sounds wonderful.”

He pops it in his stereo and listens to her gasp in excitement.

“I love Unchained Melody!!”

“Y-y-you don’t know h-how long it t-t-took for this s-song to c-come on the radio. I had to r-r-request it ev-eventually.”

“That’s so thoughtful, Bill.”

Y/n cups his face and gives him an open mouthed kiss. He’s instantly hard.

“I’m ready, Bill,” she whispers.

“Muh-muh-me t-t-too.”

His stutter is evidently worse; he’s nervous out of his mind, after all. But he takes control of the situation, scooping Y/n up and placing her on his bed like she’s the most fragile diamond.

She reaches and grabs Bill by his collar, pulling his lips to hers. Underneath their gasping and the music are their uncontrollable heartbeats. It’s almost as if they’re going to beat straight out of their chests!

Bill pulls away to unbutton his shirt, but Y/n is already on it. When it’s completely open, she pulls it off of his shoulders and squeezes his muscles. He’s so toned from all of the sports he does (mainly baseball), but Y/n always finds herself surprised at how muscular he really is.

He glides his hand gently along her chest, as if she’s his piano, before grabbing her spaghetti straps. He slips them down her arms and ever so slowly pulls the dress down her body. Her chest is braless, and by now he’s practically creamed his pants. His mind is hazy, though he’s completely sober.

Okay, Bill. Think, you idiot. You need to stimulate her now so she can finish later.

He places his warm hands on Y/n’s frigid stomach and feels her tense up.

“Is-is-is this o-o-o-okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just ticklish,” she laughs.

He takes his hand down to her panties and shoves it under them.

Y/n is already in heaven.

******

The pizza man gets quite a shock when Bill opens the door in nothing but his boxers, but he doesn’t give a flying shit. Besides, better him than Y/n, who’s wearing a just flannel with her ass hanging out.

They chuckle about his reaction, devouring the pizza and watching Beverly Hills 90210.

“I never thanked you, you know,” Y/n pipes up during a commercial break.

“For the p-pizza? It was o-only five b-b-bucks.”

“Not for the pizza. For the sex,” she responds bluntly. “That was… incredible. Thank you.”

Bill turns red. “Th-thank you. You w-w-were p-perfect. You a-a-are perfect.”

“I think you’re pretty perfect too,” she grins, giving him a kiss.

Bill smiles at her. He’s never loved someone like this before, spiritually or physically. Sure, he’s jacked off several times (like every other guy in the world), but the pleasure and adoration he received from Y/n just in the past hour was insurmountable. And he can’t wait for the rest of his life with her.

“R-round two?”

Y/n beams, and before she can stop herself, she says the quirkiest thing ever.

“Abso-freaking-lutely.”

[introvertguide]

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969); AFI #73

The next film for review is one of my very favorite Western style films, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969). This is an incredible film that is directed by George Roy Hill and stars the charismatic colossi Paul Newman, Robert Redford, and Katharine Ross. The film won four Academy Awards including Best Editing, Best Cinematography, Best Score, and Best Song. The AFI ranked the male duo #20 on the 100 Greatest Heroes list and the movie was ranked the 7th greatest western despite arguably not really being a Western but a semi-biography that is set in the Old West. As American as this film is, it actually did the best at the BAFTAs where it won 8 awards from 9 nominations and swept the major awards including Best Film, Best Direction, Best Actor (Robert Redford), and Best Actress (Katharine Ross). Before singing any more of the accolades for the movie, let me break down the plot. Of course that means...

SPOILER ALERT!!! THIS MOVIE IS GREAT AND DESERVES TO BE WATCHED AND NOT SPOILED!!! STOP READING AND WATCH THE FILM IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY!!! IT IS GREAT TO WATCH FIRST AND THEN COMPARE TO HISTORY AFTER SO GIVE IT A TRY!!!

The film is set In 1899 Wyoming, and begins with a quick sepia toned introduction to the characters. The major players are the quick talking Butch Cassidy (Paul Newman) and the quiet and short tempered Sundance Kid (Robert Redford). The color corrects and the two are riding together back to see their gang and it turns out that one of the other men wants to take over. Butch wins in a fight for the gang leader position by cheating along with the help of Sundance keeping the others at bay. Butch retains his job but he does like Harvey’s idea to rob the Union Pacific train. This robbery takes place with a comical interaction between Butch and an accountant/safeguard named Woodcock. The robbery goes well and the two celebrate at a whore house while watching the local sheriff try to enlist men for a posse. 

This is the end of act 1 and it is punctuated by a musical number. This happens throughout the film. Butch rides a bike around to try to impress the lover of Sundance, Etta Place (Katharine Ross), after stealing her away in the morning before the Kid wakes up. It is quite unusual and stands out from the rest of the film as Butch is not the love interest of the woman and the bike does not show up again. The music number is “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” by Burt Bacharach with an almost Benny Hill style circus outro. It really exemplifies the experimental nature of the film as the scene would likely have been cut today.

The train robbery went so well that the gang tries it again, but this time everything seems to be going wrong. Woodcock is coincidentally guarding the safe again and one of the passengers starts mouthing off. Butch is able to get into the safe car, but the safe is much thicker forcing him to use a bunch of dynamite to break it. He uses too much and blows up everything sending paper money blowing around in the breeze. To make matters worse, another train pulls up releasing a posse hired by the owner of Union Pacific. This posse kills two of the gang and chase Butch and Sundance into the mountains and the two can’t seem to lose them. They finally are able to jump off a cliff into a river and escape back to Etta. The two are worried that the posse is still coming so they take Etta and go to South America. Cue the end of act 2 so we have a fun musical travel montage. 

This is a travel montage shown through sepia tone still photos of the three going to New York and seeing the town before catching a boat south. Again, the music is far out of place for the genre and only works because of the overall experimental feel of the film. It is a very short interlude in slide show format and carnival music, but it does the trick and brings the group to Bolivia. 

On arrival, Sundance is not impressed at the conditions. They try to rob banks and are at first held back because of an inability to speak Spanish. Etta teaches them and the two men rob banks becoming known as Los Bandidos Yanquis (American Bandits). Here is another music interlude of all the successful robberies set to pleasant choir music that sounds like something out of an industrial instructional film, which tells the audience the mood is again about to change. After a while, Sundance becomes paranoid because he sees a man that looks like the leader of the posse that drove them out of America and the two decide to go straight and get jobs guarding the payroll instead of robbing it. Unfortunately, the are held up on their first job and Butch is forced to kill which he reveals he has never had to do before. Butch wants to have one more big score and Etta heads back north, sensing trouble with a return to crime, while Butch and Sundance complete a “jungle robbery” of the payroll.

The robbery is a success and the two take the money and the mule to carry it. This is a mistake because a local kid recognizes the brand on the mule and tells the police who also inform the Bolivian military. This is bad news for Butch and Sundance as they are pinned down in a small church by what seems to be a hundred Bolivian men. Butch makes a run for the ammo but both are shot in the attempt and it seems there is no way out. The two continue to banter about going to Australia after leaving Bolivia, but they both know they are done. They load up their guns the best they can and run out into the massive volley of fire and the frame freezes not revealing the final fate of the two. Roll credits.

This seems like a strange way to end a movie, but it mirrors the unknown fate of the real Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. The whole movie is pretty historically accurate as far as what is known about the lives of the three main characters, but the musical interludes and the quippy dialogue make the film feel much more fictional. The movie is also split into definitive chapters with music breaks so it really has good pacing. Fine visual story telling. 

There is a strong connection between Paul Newman and Robert Redford, which is apparent throughout the film. Paul is the amiable people-person who likes to talk and be friends with everyone while Robert liked to keep to himself and was all business. It just worked well. Director George Roy Hill used this dynamic again when he had both men star together in The Sting, which was even more successful and garnered 7 Academy Awards. A great connection and an example of a cinematic “bromance” in which two lead male characters act almost like a married couple. 

The film seems to be strongly inspired by the works of Sergio Leone like A Fist Full of Dollars; For A Few Dollars More; The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly; and Once Upon A Time in the West. It takes the western film and gives a more complicated plot, more stylized cinematography, and great soundtrack. The Leone films were shot in Italy and didn’t have all the restrictions that American films had in the 60s, so Hollywood looked to these films for content ideas when the Hayes code was finally replaced by the MPAA rating system in 1969. The major difference was American film makers had access to big name Hollywood actors and the actual American west. Also, Leone hired Ennio Morricone who used period piece instruments to give each character a theme while Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid was scored by a hipster and then shot in a way to try and incorporate the music. 

In American film history, the year 1969 was very experimental with the Civil Rights movement and the “free love” hippies affecting the box office draw at the same time. The former group preferred a more realistic filming approach while the latter wanted a more psychedelic fantasy. Many of the films blended both and America ended up with The Wild Bunch, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Midnight Cowboy, and Easy Rider. It was a year of genre mixing and experimentation that makes for some fascinating film watching. Really embodies the turmoil of the country and the new age of Hollywood films. 

So should this film be on the AFI 100? Of course. It was experimental, influential, fun, and fascinating. It was perhaps the first “bromance” in Hollywood and a well established part of Americana. It also showed that context is completely unnecessary for a song to work in a film. Would I recommend it? How could I not? It is one of the few films that I have seen more times than I can count and still have not had to check the time while watching it. It is fun from beginning to end (sometimes weird, sometimes funny, sometimes dramatic action) and gorgeous to look at. It is a little anachronistic and abrupt with the music interludes, but engaging and enjoyable throughout. Definitely a film on the list that is more than just a time capsule or a lesson in film making (although it is that as well).

[thisstableground]

I know you've done this before (and I loved it) but I would LOVE some "Abuela Claudia and the barrio kids" wholesome content ^^ Especially with characters like Benny or Vanessa, or Carla and the Rosarios - basically, Abuela Claudia being awesome and crazy big-hearted.

[Under a cut because as always, this got carried away. edit: now also on ao3, please leave a comment if you like it! Content warning for parental neglect.]

***

The only instructions Naomi Garcia gives, when she dropsVanessa off at Claudia’s is, “she’s got a coloring book, she can pretty muchjust look after herself. Do not takeher to the Rosarios. I’ll pick her up on Sunday.”

Vanessa stands there mutely, in her pink backpack andsmudgy-kneed overalls and, despite the mid-April warmth, a woolly winter hatwith a bobble on. She’s clutching her coloring book like she’s ready to beatsomeone to death with it. Claudia gives her an encouraging smile as her momleaves and says, “it’s good to have you here, Vanessa!”

“I ain’t see why I can’t go play with Nina just ‘cause ourmoms is fighting about dumb boring mom stuff,” Vanessa says, scowling. “I’mstill gonna be friends with her no matter what they say.”

She gives Claudia a challenging look, as if to say, and you aren’t going to stop me. Claudiajust says, “¡Bueno! So what do you want to do today?”

“I want to go to Nina’s.”

It’s going to be along weekend, Claudia thinks.

Much as Claudia agrees with Vanessa that a fight betweenparents shouldn’t get in the way of children’s friendship, she’s loathe to directlyignore one of the few direct instructions given by Vanessa’s mom. On realizingshe isn’t going to get her way, Vanessa slouches off to a corner of the livingroom floor and quietly colors in while Claudia goes about her usual morningcleaning, feeling faintly stumped.

This is so strange in comparison to Usnavi, who always thunders right in as though he owns the place, or Nina who always stays firmly by Claudia’s side the entire time she’s there.From the time she’s spent with both Nina and Vanessatogether, Claudia knows that Vanessa is a very headstrong young lady, usually farmore boisterous than this – bossy, even, always taking the lead while Ninafollows her around admiringly. But on her own, Vanessa is silent, hidden downbehind the side of the couch and only speaking up to say “no, I’m fine” whenever Claudiaoffers her a drink or asks if she wants to watch la television.

Her short, terse answers are bordering on what might becalled rude, but when Claudia asks if Vanessa’s hungry and Vanessa hesitates,looking hunted for a long moment before ducking her head back down very close to thepage, scribbling intensely without giving an answer, she realizes that perhapsVanessa is shy. It has, after all,been many years since Claudia looked after her alone without Nina there too,not since the girls were toddlers, and it is much easier to be brave and bossywith a good friend there.

“I haven’t had my breakfast today,” Claudia lies. “I wasgoing to get myself some food, if you wanted to share?”

“…I guess maybe I’m a littlebit hungry,” Vanessa concedes.

“We will make something together, then.” Claudia says, thenspots all the felt tip pen smudges on Vanessa’s hands, and the dirt under herbitten-short fingernails, and adds as they walk to the kitchen, “but first noslaveremos las manos.”

She pushes a chair up next to the kitchen sink so that Vanessacan reach. Vanessa sticks her hands quickly under the water then wipes them offon her overalls, still inkstained and dirty.

“No, no, con jabón.” Claudia rinses her own hands andlathers the bar of soap between them, more thoroughly than she usually would sothat Vanessa can see what she’s doing. “Like this, see?”

“I know!” Vanessasnaps, but she watches Claudia and copies carefully anyway, every movementmimicked exactly.

When she’s done, Claudia moves the chair over to the counterfor her, sets a cutting board and knife down ready, then rummages through thedisorganized cupboards looking past long-expired half-empty jars of pickles andsauces and preserves for the ingredients she needs. She really needs to tidy upin here but somehow it’s so hard to bring herself to throw anything away. “Ay, ¿dónde está?I’m sure I had una cebolla here somewhere…”

“What we makin’?” Vanessa asks, climbing up onto the chair.She picks up the knife and examines it, sharp end very close to herface. Claudia swiftly takes it out of her hands. “Hey!”

“We’re having arroz con pollo.” Claudia puts theknife safely out of Vanessa’s reach and finally locates an onion nestled inwith the bananas and mango in the fruit bowl.

“I usually have peanut butter jelly sandwiches,” Vanessa tellsher. “They’re easiest to make.”

“You make your own lunch?”

“Uh-huh! I do it all the time when Mommy isn’t home.”

“Oh, vaya, that’s very grown up.”

Vanessa beams proudly and Claudia smiles at her, but in herheart she didn’t mean that as a compliment: Vanessa has barely been six for amonth. She’s so young to be spending any time at home alone, never mind feedingherself while she’s there. Perhaps it would have been less surprising back in Claudia’sday when children were far more independent far younger, but Claudia thinks thatthere are many things in her day that she’s glad have gone out of fashion now.

But she says nothing of it, only shows Vanessa how tomeasure out enough rice and rinse it so that it doesn’t all stick together whenit cooking, lets her open the little glass jars of spices and sniff each ofthem individually. Vanessa follows along with an unexpected focus, likeshe’s trying to memorize every instruction for herself.

With the air conditioning barely functioning as ever,Claudia’s apartment is small and stuffy, especially on a day like this. By thetime the pot is full and bubbling away on the stove and it’s time to clean up,Vanessa’s cheeks are bright pink from the heat.

Claudia says, “aquí, why don’t you take that hat off,” andwith the unconscious familiarity she’d show for Usnavi or Nina, plucks thebobble hat off Vanessa’s head. 

Vanessa shrieks, and Claudia sees instantly thatshe isn’t wearing it just out of one of those odd childish whims like she’dassumed: her hair is an absolute rat’s nest, not just messy fromplaying but hopelessly tangled and sweaty like it hasn’t been washed or brushedin weeks.

“No! Give it back!” Vanessa shouts. She stamps her foot onthe chair and leans over on tiptoes making a grab for the hat. Hurriedly, Claudiahands it back before she overbalances and lands right on the stove. In asplit-second Vanessa has jammed it back on her head, jumped to the ground and boltedout of the kitchen, the door to Claudia’s bedroom slamming shortly after. WhenClaudia follows and knocks on the door, she yells, “go away! Leave me alone!”

Claudia taps her fingers against the doorframe and pursesher lips. Dealing with Vanessa, she thinks, is very, very different fromdealing with the children she’s used to. If Nina has ever raised her voice inher life than Claudia wasn’t there to see it. Usnavi wouldn’t even think to beembarrassed about something like messy hair in the first place: the boy wouldbe a walking mud puddle if his parents didn’t intervene.

Hm. Maybe that’s a point. She leaves Vanessa to calm down onher own while she goes to call Camila and find out exactly why it is that Naomidoesn’t want Vanessa going to visit.

The second she mentions Naomi’s name, Camila makes asquawkingly aggravated noise down the phone and says, “ay, do not get me started on that woman. Shesends her daughter round here practically every day and we feed her and look after her forfree and what thanks do we get? She should learn to take good advice when she’sgiven it.”

“What kind of advice?” Claudia asks, and then because sheknows Camila very well, “and how did you give it?”

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, Claudia, but it wasjustified. I see enough of what goes on there to know that she isn’t fit to be a mother. It’sno wonder the girl is growing up half-wild.”

“Camila!” Claudiascolds. “No es justo, Naomi is still very young herself, she is only trying herbest with what she’s got.”

“Ha! If that’s what you call trying I’d hate to see what happens when she stops. The amount of times Vanessa’s complained about having aheadache here because nobody ever taught her you need to drink water and eatduring the day? El otro díashe says she can’t pick Vanessa up from our place so ‘just let her walkhome by herself’! I ask you, at herage? In this neighborhood? And then I try to talk to Naomi about it and shecalls me interfering!”

Claudia makes a sympathetic tsk noise.

“She might have been young when she had her but she’s anadult now, she has responsibilities,” Camila says firmly. “If she’d rather haveher own pride than listen to me, well, I wash my hands of the whole thing.”

It’s all very well tosay that from the outside, Claudia thinks as she hangs up, as much toherself as to Camila. She’s always felt for Naomi, who moved here with nothingbut a teenage pregnancy and that waste of space she called a husband - what aman of his age was doing with a girl barely out of childhood herself,honestamente – and whose fierce pride and broken heart and sharp temper made it very, very hardto get along with her for very long. But as young as Naomi is, Vanessa’s even younger and wheredoes all of this leave her, this odd, stubborn half-wild half-adult child, whoalready makes her own lunch and walks herself home from school the days hermother forgets to pick her up but was never taught how to wash her hands orbrush her own hair properly?

The bedroom door is still closed when Claudia returns to it.She knocks but lets herself in without waiting for an answer. Vanessa issitting on the floor by the bed hugging her knees, looking furious and ashamed.With some difficulty because her knees aren’t what they used to be, Claudiasits on the floor beside her.

“Don’t want it brushed,” Vanessa mutters sullenly, andscuffs her fingertips against the floor, picking at the fake wood-effectlinoleum.

“¿Por qué no?”

“Mommy used to brush it and she always pulls too hard, and Isaid ow and she told me to stop beinga baby but then I told her it hurts and she got mad and said if I know so muchabout everything I can just do it by myself.” Vanessa gives a heavy, put-uponsigh. “And I tried but it’s too tangly.Anyhow, it’s just hair. Why’s it matter if it’s messy?

“Because if you leave it like that then eventually birdswill start living in it.”

Obstinately, Vanessa says, “maybe I want birds to live in it.”

“Perhaps you do,” Claudia says, “but then they will sing allday and wake you up so, so early en la mañana.”

She makes cheepy bird noises, her fingers tapping against her thumbs like little cawing beaks all around Vanessa’s ears until Vanessastarts laughing then immediately looks outraged about it.

“Can I try to help? I promise not to pull it,” Claudiaswears. Vanessa gives her a suspicious look but then relents and takes the hatoff. It looks even worse up close. Claudia does her best not to react but Vanessaseems to have picked up on it because she bunches her shoulders up so high theyalmost hit her ears and stays like until Claudia tries togently finger-comb it out. She barely touches her before Vanessa hisses andgoes “owww!” in a high-pitched whine.

“Lo siento,” Claudia says, though she knows it couldn’treally have hurt.

“I told you, it’s too tangly,” Vanessa says, with an edge toher voice that means I am on the verge ofhysteria. “I already tried to brush it but it won’t work!”

“What if we call the ladies at the salon and ask what theythink? Daniela will know how to fix it, I’m sure.”

“She’ll laugh at me.”

“I’ll tell her off if she does.”

That makes Vanessa pause. “You’d tell Dani off?”

“Believe it or not, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Vanessa says, “don’t tell her it’s about me?”, something sopitiful and pleading about it that Claudia wants to hug her. She resists theurge and says, “our secret” and with Vanessa’s nod of permission, calls up thesalon.

“I have a very young friend here with very tangly hair,” sheinforms Dani. “Un cepillo will not work. ¿Qué hacemos?

Dani says, “I told Rosa that next time Usnavi gets gum stuckin it she should just bring him here straight away.”

“No, not Usnavi. And nothing is stuck, it is just…ah, descuidado.”

“Oh,” Dani says, suddenly serious and sighing. “It’s Vanessa,isn’t it?”

Claudia makes a noncommittal sound: Dani is closest of allof them to Naomi, and she suspects probably could give her more of an insightinto the Garcia family than anyone, but she did make a promise. There’s a mufflednoise of Dani covering the handset and talking to someone for a second and thenshe says, “Carla says to work a lot of conditioner into it and comb it through,starting at the bottom.”

“Will that work?”

“It’s worked before for some little problemas,” Dani says.“But if her hair’s that bad it might take more time than it’s worth.  Sometimes the only thing to do really is to cutit all off and start again. Do you want to bring her in and we’ll have a lookand see how much we can salvage? Sin cargo.”

“No, no, we’ll try the conditioner first, gracias. Give Carlamy love.” Claudia isn’t going to make Vanessa go and have all her hair cut off ifshe can help it. And so they eat their arroz con pollo then afterwards, she gathers everything and has Vanessa sit on a kitchen chairwith a towel round her shoulders, and gets to work with a comb and a bottle ofconditioner. She does her best to keep up chatter to cheer up a morose-lookingVanessa, but with very little in the way of responses and such a long taskahead, Claudia eventually just concentrates on what she’s doing, making slow,slow progress.

After about ten minutes, there’s a quiet sniff from thelittle figure in the chair, and then another one. Claudia stops what she’sdoing and leans round to see that Vanessa looks seconds away from crying. “¿Esto duele?”

“No,” Vanessa mumbles.

“What’s wrong?

Vanessa just shakes her head, staring at the floor with acrumpled brow and tears in her eyes, and though it may be overfamiliar, Claudia’syears of instinct immediately demand that she pull Vanessa into a tight hug –how could she possibly do anything else? With no noise but one tiny, miserable whimper of breath, Vanessastarts crying silently but hard, face against Claudia’s shoulder.

“Ah, pobrecita, I know,” Claudia murmurs, strokes Vanessa’shair as best she can, her hand sliding over the gloss of conditioner. She mightnot know Vanessa quite as well as some of her other children but one thingshe’s certain is that she’s a proud, independent little thing. This must bemortifying for her. There seems no good way to say to her that it isn’t herfault, that there are many small but crucial things in life that she should be taught to do, not left alone to figure out, and that this is probably only one of many. Telling her that won’t fix anything. But it does remind Claudia of a far-off and absurd memory. Shemoves Vanessa off her shoulder, still holding her by the arms and says, “when Iwas una niñita, we used to curl our hair withstrips of newspaper.”

Vanessa frowns at her. She’s already stopped crying, wipingher face on the towel round her neck. “Huh?”

“You’d take  un pedazo de periódico  in your hand and put yourhair around it like this – “ she makes a wrapping motion in the air, “and leaveit to dry en la noche, and you wake up with beautiful curls. My mama used to doit for me, but one day when I was a little older than you, she was not feelingwell and so I tried to do it myself. I thought, it cannot be so hard, if shedoes it all the time, and so I wrapped all my hair in newspaper and I went tobed, and you know what?”

“What?”

“It looked terrible,”she says. “At the front, too many curls, like the wig of a clown! But at theback, where I could not reach properly, all the paper had come out and so itwas not curled at all. Can you imagine?” She gestures down her back as thoughlong straight locks are still there, then holds her hands up at the frontmimicking the explosion of badly-curled ringlets.

Vanessa giggles at the image. “That sounds silly.”

“It was,” Claudia confirms. “And in those days we did nothave a shower and so I couldn’t wash it out so easily. I tried to get it wetand make it lie flat but it only made it look worse, and because Mama was sick Ihad to go out and run all the errands with my hair so crazy.”

“Oh noooo,” Vanessa says, hands over her mouth, utterly invested in the story. “What didyou do?”

“Well, first I cried very, very hard,”Claudia says,remembering it with a smile because it seems like such a small thing to be so upset over now. “And I wore una bufanda  around my head, because I thought everyonewould laugh at me. And even when I went in to see my Mama in bed I wore labufanda because I was so embarrassed that i did it so wrong. And she did laugh,when I told her what had happened, but then when she was better she showed mehow to do it right, and I still curl my hair that way to this day.” She patsher neat, pinned-back rolls of rapidly-greying curls.

“My mommy wouldn’t do that,” Vanessa says. “She’d just getmad at me for doing it wrong.”

“Maybe,” Claudia says, because it seems even harsher to lie about it, “but I neverwould, if you ever need somebody to tell you how to fix a problem. It’s okay if youget it wrong for a while. Many things take a lot of practice and a lot ofpatience.”

Vanessa mulls it over, then gives a very solemn nod and sniffs hard one lasttime. “Okay. We can carry on now.”

Daniela was right: the whole process takes well over anhour, and they have to move to the couch so that Claudia can sit down halfwaythrough, but what of it? Claudia’s got plenty of time to spare in herretirement and, she reflects a little sadly, it has probably been a long, longwhile since anyone paid Vanessa this much attention.

All worth it in the end, when she announces that they arefinished, and Vanessa touches her own hair with her eyes lighting up. “You didit!” she gasps, as though Claudia had performed a miracle. “You fixed it!”

“We still need to rinse all the conditioner out.” Claudiahesitates about that: if it were Usnavi or Nina she’d simply throw them in the tub. They’re both getting old enough to be left unsupervised for short moments when they’re in there, but thedoor is always open, and she always calls reminders to not forget to wash theirfaces and scrub under their nails. They still need help rinsing out shampoo andclimbing out of the bath. Both of them still let her rub one of her oldfaded-pink towels thoroughly over their hair to dry it, and they still play thegame where she covers their whole faces with it and puts her hand therepretending she is going to scrub away their face just as roughly while theyshriek in pretend-fear and yell “no, Abuela!”. They’re getting too old for suchthings, but what are abuelas for if not to baby the grandchildren? They allknow that these moments are not forever, and why not hold onto childhood justas long as possible?

But Vanessa probably won’t allow anything like that, alreadyso clearly ashamed of the things about her that speak to the age she really is,and she’s already had enough embarrassment for the day. Claudia spares her thediscomfort of asking, instead rinsing her hair tipped upside down over thekitchen sink the way Claudia’s mama used to do for her so many years ago: cleanit all off with warm water and then one last jugful of cold to finish. Vanessa hollersloudly at the shock of cool water, but she laughs about it right afterwards.

Later in the living room, when Claudia is reading thenewspaper and Vanessa is lying on her belly on the floor with her felt tips,there’s the sound of ripping paper, very slow and quiet like she’s trying notto be heard. Claudia looks up to see Vanessa with a strip torn out of hercoloring book, trying to tie it in a knot around her still-damp hair.

She looks sheepish when she sees Claudia watching. “I want it allcurly,” she explains. Her hair uncoils itself from around thebadly-wrapped strip of paper.

“Would you like me to teach you how?”

“You don’t gotta.”

“I would like to.”

Vanessa hmms, and says, “only if you don’t make it go allcrazy at the front, then.”

“I’m much better at it than I used to be.”

Claudia takes the pages of her newspaper she’s finished readingand tears them into strips, and this funny, prickly hedgehog of a girl sitsclose in front of her, allowing her carefully roll her hair up into twists. Vanessaisn’t silent or sulking now: she’s talking about how she wants her hair to looklike Nina’s because Nina has the most beautiful hair, and gives a high-pitchedbubbling giggle as she recounts Claudia’s story about her own failed papercurls. She sounds just like the six year old she is instead of a tiny, furiousadult. Claudia’s back and eyes already ache from bending over and concentratingfor so long earlier, but she doesn’t mind pushing through it for this. Some things justneed a little patience.

[percywinchester27]

About a boy (Part-3)

Word count: 3.3K

Warning: Suspense, feels, mention of physical abuse and bullying

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: Many thanks to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and @deanssweetheart23 for beta reading this story. I love you guys <3

Part 1 Part 2

Cas prayed. Every day. He woke up each morning, sat on the bed with his feet folded Indian style and hands joined in a Namaste. Dean would just look up from his bunk and there he would be meditating on the top in his boxers and a loose tank, eyes closed, back ramrod straight. It was funny, Dean actually cracked a smile.

For the next few days he stuck to Cas. Going around with him to the school which was about a mile and a half away, and then back. Cas didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy Dean's company. Dean would be lying if he said he had been used to something like that before.

On the outside, it looked like Cas was taking him around the place, showing him the ropes and such, but in the few minutes they managed to snatch away from the prying eye, they were always plotting.

Dean realized one thing. It was hard. Finding Sam was going to be hard as hell. Even harder than what he thought it was going to be. 

Sam had been 6 months old when he was thrown into an orphanage, and as Cas pointed out, it might have been completely another orphanage. He might have been transferred here and it could be as recent as a couple of months ago or as old as a few years. 

Dean was also curious about his fellow roommates. Cas said they were nice boys, but Dean had his reservations. Gabriel, or Gabe, as Cas called him, was loud and obnoxious, he had the cheesy behavior, but his whiskey colored eyes were always full of mischief, like he knew something about you that you didn't know yourself. His brown hair was on the longer side, and his smile dripped cunningness. Gabriel's bed was always littered with chocolate wrappers. Even though it was against the rules to get stuff like that from outside, no one seemed to rat Gabriel out. It was as Cas had said, he had one up on everyone. Gabriel didn't show any particular interest in wanting to get to know Dean, and Dean was thankful for that. Gabriel smelled trouble, and he didn't want any of it.

The other roommate was silent and kept to himself, but that made Dean even more wary of him. Benny wasn't in the face like Gabe, but he was just there, observing everything quietly. It was unsettling, like everything he did was being watched, was being noted. To add to that, he never seemed to sleep… like some sort of a vampire. It was disconcerting enough that he was now confiding everything in Cas when he had promised himself that this was going to be his own battle to fight. Now he had gone ahead and included Cas in it.

But, boy, it relieving. 

Cas was just as excited to find Sam. He went over the whole management system with Dean. The place was owned by a Styne family. The head, Eldon, barely ever showed, about twice or thrice in a year. Andy was the one who managed everything. He knew that Michael and his little parade of goons were up to something, but as long as everyone remained scared of Michael, it maintained the place in order, so he turned a blind eye towards that, until something brought it to glaring attention, like Gabriel's little stunt the other day would have.

In the coming week, Dean learnt the hierarchy. Michael's two main supports were Gary and Raphael. Cas had warned him to not cross paths with them, because after what had happened, they wouldn't waste a second before ratting him out.

It was Cas' brilliant plan to sneak into the record room in the evening when everyone was out in the grounds playing and having fun. It would have worked well, but just as they were about to sneak into the record room, Andy called out to them.

"Winchester!"

Dean stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes, praying that he wouldn't get caught. 

"What're you doing here?" Then Andy realised that Dean wasn't alone. "You're hanging out with Castiel?"

"Is that a bad thing?" Cas asked, voice feebly brave.

Andy smirked. "Not really. Didn't expect you to hang out is all. What're you doing inside at this time?"

"Thought I'd take Dean around the library," Cas managed, effortlessly.

The older man eyed them, especially Cas, then shrugged. "Fine, if you're gonna nerd out together. Just lock the door when you're done. I'm not waiting back till you two are done. I have a hot date."

That was too much information, but the moment Andy turned, Dean exchanged an excited look with his friend. They were alone now. 

Ascertaining that Andy was truly gone, the two of them rushed to the record room and shut the door behind them, facing the rows and rows of filing.

"This is going to take ages, isn't it?" Dean mumbled.

A corner of Cas' mouth pulled down. "Guess so."

They set to work anyway, trying to figure out the system of filing. After half an hour of going through the pile, Dean finally said out loud what was on his mind. "Why did Andy sound like he wasn't expecting me to hang out with you?"

Cas wasn't visible to Dean, as he was working on the rack after his, but his hushed voice was still audible. "Let's just say I'm not the most sought out kid here."

"What does that mean?"

A sigh.

"This place is like the jungle. Survival of the fittest and all that… You look like you could fit right in with the predators."

What Cas meant was pretty clear. Dean gave off that vibe, what with the sullen looks and his dad's overlarge leather jacket, he would be expected to hang out with idiots like Michael and his gang. He would be expected to give in to their stupid initiation test, lick Michael's ass and raise to the ranks of the bullies instead of being bullied.

"I'm the nerd of sorts. I let people be," Cas added.

Something still didn't add up. From what Dean had seen, Cas wasn't a bully, but he wasn't bullied either.

"That first night," Dean said slowly, weighing his words, "Michael could have easily hurt you, or his guy Gary, instead they just restrained you and shoved you around. Why?"

Another sigh. Apparently Dean was asking all the questions that Cas didn't want to answer… but he did anyway.

"Michael and I… Well, we go back a long way. We come from the same orphanage. I've known him as long as I remember… He's the closest thing that I have to a…"

"Brother," Dean completed. The word hung awkwardly between them.

"He's not a bad person," Cas said, "Just angry and bitter. Life hasn't been fair to him."

Who had life been fair to? Dean thought. If that had been the case, none of the 712 boys would be rotting here at the home. He didn't say that out loud though.

"I figured it out!" Cas exclaimed, all of a sudden. "I figured out the filing system!"

He bent around the rack to see Dean, blue eyes wide with excitement. "These are stacked according to the year. That means the one who came first, the box would be at the very end."

"Great!" Dean groaned. "Now we have to find out when Sam got put into this one, too."

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

It took more than a couple of weeks.

Mostly because Andy didn't have a date everyday to abandon his post, but also because Dean had his share of duties, too. The cleaning, the washing, the babysitting duties for the little kids. 

Sometimes, Gary and Raphael would cross him in the corridors, a few more of the older kids would give him looks, but for the most part everyone just ignored him. Who was he but another sheep added to an overly large flock? No one cared.

He quickly realised one thing though, if it hadn't been for Cas, it would have been a lonely existence. Gabriel, he learned, had been from the same orphanage as Cas, too. They had been transferred here about 8 years back. Benny was new, but Benny also didn't care. The place could go down in a tornado and he still wouldn't care.

Through the chores, the school and the scheming, Dean couldn't help but look around the kids bunking on the 4th floor, searching for eyes that looked like his, a gait like his or a crooked smile here and there. There were at least 100 of them aged 11 to 14. How was he ever going to find Sam.

"Tell me what you remember about him most clearly?" Cas asked one evening as he dumped the contents of pale brown box on the floor of the record room.

Dean thought for a second before replying. "I think it's the smile."

"Smile?" Cas asked pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah. I'd tell him that we could practice ball when he grew up and he'd recognize my voice and smile."

That wasn't a helpful detail. Cas knew all the kids, but that didn't help if Dean couldn't remember how to pinpoint it. There had to be something distinctive about him that Dean could remember. Something that would help.

"Tell you what? If you keep going at it, you'll remember something helpful I'm sure."

The comment was encouraging but Dean wasn't sure if he had it in him.

"So, what's your story?" Dean asked, more to distract Cas from the conversation.

"My story?"

"Yeah."

Cas scratched his black hair. "There is nothing to it. My memory begins in an orphanage. Seems like my folks weren't interested in me from the get go."

Must be hard, Dean thought, to know that you were never  loved enough. Sure he had to deal with the searing pain of losing his mom and dad like that, but at least he knew it in his bones that they had loved him. Did that make losing them worse? Probably. But was the possibility of love better than never having been loved at all?

"So who gave you your name?"

Cas surprised Dean by grinning sheepishly. "Someone at the old orphanage was a bible freak. They named all the kids after angels. Michael, Rapahel, Gabriel, Castiel… see where this is going? Basically, if you find a biblical name around here, you know where the kid came from, yeah? Kind of makes the distinction easy. Right, Dean… Dean?"

Dean had gone shock still.

"Dean, you okay?"

"How old were you when you came here?" Dean asked, urgently, dread growing in his chest.

"4 months," Cas answered, "We found my file the other day, didn't we?"

"Yes! But we went through all the files from that year and we didn't find Gabriel's. He was put in the same year, too. That means-"

"There are missing records?" Cas completed, voice hollow. 

Dean stumbled back into the cabinet, the file he was holding slipping out of his hand. If Sam's records were misplaced, they could go through these files their whole life and never find Sam.

"Don't give up, Dean," Cas whispered, but the words fell on deaf ears. He should have known that this was too good to be true, too easy. As if just by looking at all these folders he was supposed to find his brother.

As if after everything, things were just going to go back to normal.

Dean skipped dinner that night. Cas called him, but he just pretended to be asleep, till Cas had gone away. The darkness of the room wasn't enough to shroud the hopelessness that he felt within. What was he doing in this alien place. Dean didn't belong here. He missed the dry heat of the place that he thought of as home, now. Missed the stains of dark grease, the damn smell of a garage on rainy thundering nights. 

It was thundering that night, too.

The sky cracked and lightening thundered in the dark sky. Dean held on to the crib tighter.

"Shhhh… Sammy," he said running his fingers over his brothers forehead. "It's gonna be alright."

"C'mon, let's say goodnight to your brother," his mom reminded him lovingly from behind as she turned the lights off. 

Dean leaned over and kissed Sam on his forehead. "Night, Sam."

"Good night, love," his mom said, lightly brushing Sam's brown hair back, and following Dean's suit and kissing him, too. Dean pushed back into her. He loved the way his mom smelled. Tangy like apples.

"Hey, Dean."

Dean turned to see his dad standing in the doorway, a light smile playing on his lips. Dean immediately rushed over and threw himself at him. "Daddy!"

His dad scooped Dean up. "Hey buddy!" Then he raised his hand, which Dean high-fived.

"So what do you think? You think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?"

Dean turned back to look and his little brother, then shook his head, laughing. "No, Daddy."

Dad laughed. "I don't think so, either."

Just then mom passed them both, ruffling his hair. "You got him?" She asked dad.

"I got him," dad winked at Dean, then looked over at Sammy. "Sweet dreams, Sam."

He's asleep soon. Then awake. Too suddenly.

His mom screamed.

"No! Mary!" His dad yelled "No!"

Dean jumped out of bed and ran towards the noise. His mom and dad sounded scared. It was too warm… hot.

There was a fire in Sam's room, Dad was there… no mom.

"Dean!" His dad called.

"Daddy!"

His dad was scared, sweating and hurt. In his hand was a little bundle. Sammy.

He thrust Sam into Dean's hands, his back to the blazing fire. Dean's eyes were burning. He couldn't see mom.

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!"

Dad pushed him hard, towards the stairs. He held Sam tightly and made a run for it, till he was outside the door and into the lawn.

"It's okay, Sammy," he whispered. "I gotcha."

Then the window blasted and the whole house exploded in fire.

Dean sat up bolt in his bed, sweating, heart trying to beat out of his chest. He blinked his eyes not just to be rid of the moisture there but also to figure out where the hell he was. It took a couple of seconds, but then it all came to him. He was at a boys' home. Cas was snoring lightly above him. Gabriel not so lightly next to him.

The tiny digital clock on the rickety table read 00:17.

Dean tried to breathe normally, but gave up after a couple of minutes. He wasn't going to get any peace with the rate at which his heart was going, or how clammy he suddenly felt. The very dread he had been trying to run away from all evening, had finally caught up with him and how.

Denial was a crappy coping mechanism. He knew that, he had always known that. But what else did he have?

Getting up, he made his way to the bathrooms at the very end of the corridor, and splashed water on his face. Dean immediately felt a little better. The cold water seemed to help with frayed nerves. So, he splashed his face once more, running the water over his hands too. Not knowing what else to do, he strolled along the long passageway and came to rest in front of the staircase grill that locked everyone on to the floor. The light breeze coming in from the window opposite to the grill was calming. Dean slid down along the length of the grill to the floor, staring up at the dark sky, barely illuminated by the crescent shaped moon.

"Can't fall asleep?" The quiet voice made him jump out of his skin.

"What the fuck!" Dean swore, his barely in control heartbeat accelerating again, as he tried to look for the person in the dark.

"Sorry," the voice apologized sincerely. "I didn't mean to scare you or anything."

Dean squinted in the darkness, finally spotting the person. On the other side of the grill, on the opposite end from him was another shadow, mirroring his exact pose, huddled with his back against the grill.

"I can't sleep, either," the kid said, not deterred by Dean's lack of response. "Still, sorry for creeping up on you."

"That's okay," Dean said, not wanting to give away that he actually had been frightened.

"You new?"

Dean shrugged, then remembered it was actually too dark to see anything. "Yeah."

"It can be hard," the boy said. "Lot of new admits find it  tough to adjust."

Was the kid patronising him?

"Not much of a talker, I see," said the kid. "I'm gonna shut up now."

It made Dean smirk despite himself. "What're you doing up?"

The voice perked up at some response. "I got a math Olympiad, tomorrow. I suck at it."

"You're up because you're nervous about a silly test?"

It brought Dean up short. It shocked him that there were kids here with normal fears, like tests and exams. Not everyone was on a mission to find long lost brothers. How stupid of him to just overlook that? It made him feel out of place.

"Like you've never been worried about an exam before? And it’s not a  silly test, It could be my one way ticket into a University." He'd offended the kid. Must be what? Around 11 or 12 years of age. Couldn't be less than that since he bunked on the 4th floor.

"You're just like the other big guys," the kid muttered. 

"It's not like that," Dean said. "I'm just distracted." Why was he explaining this to the kid anyway?

"That's fine," came the reply, chirpy again, apparently satisfied with Dean's half-hearted explanation. "I know the sort of crap that goes on up on your floor."

"Know something about that, huh?"

"Everyone does."

Fair enough. "I'm not a favourite," Dean warned. "It'd be better for you to not be found chumming up with me."

"I don't care." The answer was firm. steely. "I hate bullies."

The word 'hate' somehow sounded harsh coming from a soft voice like that. Dean had to raise an eyebrow.

They sat in silence for a while. Dean let his mind wander through all that had happened today. Sam's smile kept invading his mind. His light eyes, his brown hair.

"Brown hair!" Dean yelped.

"What?" 

"Nothing," Dean said, more to himself than the kid. "He had brown hair." Like their dad's… lighter, but still definitely brown.

Dean couldn't give up now. Not when he was already in here. He couldn't stop looking for Sam. If he didn't give it his best shot, he'd regret it all his life. He would go through every damn file, tear the place apart if it means that he could find his brother again.

"Are you alright?" The voice on the other side sounded vaguely concerned, as if not anxious about Dean per se, but doubting his mental health.

Dean didn't care. At last, he could actually breathe. Freely.

"Hey, kid, thanks!"

"For what?" Perplexed.

"Nothing," Dean almost grinned. "Good luck with your test… uh Olympiad tomorrow," he said, getting up and dusting his clothes.

"Thanks, I guess?" The voice trailed behind him as Dean walked back to his room. He fell on the bed fully clothed.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and he would try again… and again and again till he succeeded.

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

A/N 2: I really really hope y’all like this story!! Please let me know what you think… the feedback is what keeps me going :)

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[morganweir]

whiteboard skywriting

ship: erica/sarah/ethan/benny/rory

tags: established polyamory, roommates/housemates 

Read it on ao3

@ericajonesweek​

The whiteboard is kinda how they communicate in the house right now. Sarah has clinicals and Rory is in the middle of some video game development that his team thinks might hit it big this time, and Benny is on an on-week for his paramedic job and Ethan is doing whatever Ethan does. He does something in politics, but Erica doesn’t really understand it, but he seems to enjoy it? He gets to protest against the military and systemic oppression of First Nations people, which is what he wanted, so Erica guesses he’s alright.

It’s a bit lonely around the house. 

She’s home most of the time, as a commissions artist can sometimes be, but there are reminders of her housemates everywhere. Sarah’s socks never make it to her bedroom, tucked under Erica’s desk instead when she comes and drapes herself across Erica’s shoulders, easy as you please. A drawing Rory had done for her hangs above the desk, pinned to the wall with one of Rory’s Hello Kitty themed push pins. Benny hung a good luck charm from one of the shelves above the desk, hanging down in Erica’s eye level to remind her of the spellcaster. And, well, Ethan had been the one to find her desk at all. He had touched it and even though his eyes hadn’t turned white, hadn’t rolled back in that terrifying way that always makes her want to reach out to catch him, he said he saw her doing really good things at this desk. It still makes her smile to think about it. 

And then there’s the whiteboard. 

There’s a green marker for Rory, purple for Erica, red for Sarah, orange for Benny and blue for Ethan. There’s purple marker, smudged slightly, scrawled proudly across the top of the board; it’s the only thing that’s ever written on the board in her color. It just says “Have a good day and be your best!” 

They make her a lot more positive than she once was. 

She wears Sarah’s class ring on her left hand, and maybe that’s a reminder of why she’s more positive now too. 

She remembers picking who would get what colors. There’s a black marker that never get used, but it was the one that Erica originally picked for herself. It’s how she feels sometimes, compared to the rest of her perfect partners and the way that they care so loudly in ways that she’s never been able to articulate so perfectly, but Benny had said no. He had taken the black marker out of her hand and told her to pick out of the colors first, so long as she didn’t pick that. At first, she had thought he just wanted it, but he grabbed orange before she could even blink. You don’t like orange anyway, he said with a grin before pointing her at the colors again, telling her to pick. Ethan had picked for her eventually. He said that she feels purple, that she feels like violet and pretty and perfect and dangerous. She had kissed his cheek and punched him in the shoulder, but she had taken it in the end too. 

This morning, the whiteboard has three colors on it, besides the purple: orange, green and red. Ethan must have been in a hurry this morning, a theory that is supported by his tie still hanging from the door of the laundry room, his cereal bowl in the sink even though he hates to leave things for Erica to do (despite the fact that she’s made it quite clear that she doesn’t mind a bit). She reads the notes instead of heading to the sink immediately, tucking her hair up into a bun sloppily. She doesn’t go for the sharpness that she once tried to project anymore; it takes up so much of her that not much else is left.

Can you make sure one of my dress shirts is clean? says the board in Benny’s sloppy orange scrawl, a crude heart and an even cruder drawing of a begging Benny there to further persuade her. Erica laughs, leaving the words. She wants to let Sarah see. She takes a bite of the apple in her hand before moving onto the next. 

One of my coworkers wants to commission you! Text me when you wake up, please! says Rory’s excited handwriting, single exclamation points more like seven and stars littering the space around it. Erica bounces on her heels excitedly and slides her phone out of her pocket, texting Rory for the deets. The three of them, the vampires of their fantastic fivesome, don’t need to sleep, but they do anyway. Benny and Ethan get creeped out when the three of them stay awake in bed with them, but they also don’t want to miss out on anything, so they pout when the vamps get out of bed too. Their seer and spellcaster would have conceded to it eventually, but she, Sarah and Rory had just decided on sleeping instead. She would probably miss it anyway. 

She reads Sarah’s last. 

Her girl always manages to make her blush. 

Don’t work too hard. I love you, it says in Sarah’s clear handwriting, half cursive and half print and all beautiful. The artist in Erica wants to study it like Monet, to grab a coffee cup full of blood and hold it in both hands, sip at it and just look, just wait there until something clicks and everything makes sense. 

Like everything makes sense around Sarah. 

Like everything makes sense around all four of them, now. Even when she’s alone in the house, it’s still bumbling with all of the energy they have, all of the love and the laughter and the million other things she could hardly name, let alone describe. Rory’s empty coffee cup (deep red stains and all) on top of the TV stand. Benny’s boots sitting outside of his doorway like that’s where they go. The scrupulous way that Ethan always tries to pick up after himself and the hilarious way that he always fucks it up. Sarah’s socks and the hair ties wrapped around every cylindrical thing that Sarah can get her hands on and the locks of dark hair that litter everything in this house because Sarah sheds like it’s fucking going out of style. 

Erica feels awfully large and awfully small all at once. And awfully like she loves every single moment of it. 

She leaves all three of the notes on the board and picks up Rory’s coffee cup, setting it in the sink with Ethan’s bowl and Benny’s plate and Sarah’s cup too. The five of them barely make enough dishes for two people, let alone the five they actually are, so it’s not like cleaning up after them is any trouble anyway. 

She doesn’t think it would be if they dirtied enough dishes for a hundred people, maybe. She’s someone’s perfect little housewife, something she promised she would never be, but. It’s not so bad. 

It’s not bad at all. Especially, when she can be the housewife of four people who think she’s the best. 

Rory takes her to Single Tear concerts, since they’re the only ones who are into it. He lets her rave and roar and they get into mosh pits together, completely unafraid of the damages they’ll take on or give. He’s her person when she just wants to go fucking feral, and that kinda rocks. 

Benny takes her on fancy dates. He told her about how he used to want to marry her but now he kinda wants her to marry Sarah or maybe Rory just so he can be there, how he wants to give her away since her Dad has never been that great. He takes her to dinner and takes her arm to escort her and acts like a complete goof the whole time and always makes sure she has a good time. He never treats her like she’s stupid. 

Ethan shows her things. She doesn’t know when he finds the time to go adventuring on his own, doesn’t know when he finds the strange haunts and weird places he takes her, but he does. A hole in the wall sandwich place in the next town over or a house that’s half falling apart that he’s already taken pictures of so that she can draw it, Ethan always knows what she needs to see. He always takes care of her. 

Sarah… Sarah does something different every single time. A Great Lakes beach at midnight. Niagara Falls on a Tuesday. Waking her up with breakfast in bed and a finger to her lips, careful to not wake up their boys before they go out and go on an adventure. Sarah surprises her, no matter what, and keeps Erica on her toes. Sarah keeps her from getting bored, keeps her happy, keeps her. 

It’s not so bad at all.

[shreddedparchment]

To Be Seen Pt.04

Seen As Mommy

03/03/2019

Pairing: Thor x Reader          Word Count: 10,069

*Masterpost in Notes     Warnings: language, cuteness, lots of Thor mentions but very little actual Thor, lots of blue eyes

A/N: Ahhhhh! I am so excited to share this chapter with y’all! I’m not gonna say much so that y’all can just enjoy it but I had SO much fun writing this chapter and the next chapter promises to have more of the same but definitely lots more Thor. I hope y’all like it! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

-  Four Years Later  -

The familiar pitter patter on your sleek wooden floors is loud enough to make you stir. You open first your left eye, barely managing to get a glance at the doorway before you shut it again and struggle to shake off your sleep. You need to get up before he gets here.

You groan as the pitter patter gets closer. You hear a shutting door and then the gentle thumping along your hallway before your door is thrown open.

Your bed suddenly shifts, and your panic rises as you force both eyes open and see a blonde-haired toddler jumping towards you.

“Ben, no!” But he hits you before he hears you and you gasp as his little elbow meets your ribs.

He's small but solid, like a cannonball with a perpetual target on the most sensitive bones in your body. His hits are bruising, pulsating and shocking when you are caught unawares.

He scrambles back almost as instantly as he landed on you and kneels at the foot of your bed in his blue astronauts and stars pajamas.

Forcing yourself to internalize the pain, you hurry up, curling towards your left as you scoot towards him, his stunning blue eyes shining with frightened tears. His face is so perfect and angelic with pronounced and chubby red cheeks, a wide nose, blush pink rosebud lips, and a distinct angular chin.

Yes, he is a baby still but this baby, your son, is definitely Thor’s son too.

“Am sowwy, mommy.” He almost cries and your heart breaks.

“No, baby, look. Mommy’s fine.” You smile at him, forcing the pain down until you can deal with it later and finally open your arms to him.

He stares at you for a few more seconds, watching the smile on your face to see if it will falter but you’re good at this now. He gets up and hurries forward, almost running the three steps across your mattress, sinking with each step. He's quick and eager but when he reaches you his little arms wrap themselves around your neck slowly, tentatively.

Your heart aches for him and with his little eyes unable to see your face, you let the pain show a little with a grimace. “I’m okay.”

Despite the throbbing in your side, you manage to speak in a surprisingly even voice. You stroke his back, loving the warmth of his little form, always a few degrees warmer than normal which for the first few months of his life you’d thought was a fever had thankfully turned out to simply be his Asgardian blood showing through.

His strength was also immediate. In your womb he was strong and after he was born that strength only grew.

He knows that he has to be careful with you. He knows that he’s strong and that you’re different from him in some ways. He’s broken your ribs before, a few fingers, your left arm even at one point but it’s been a long time since he’s broken anything and as you assess the pain in your side you know you’ll only be bruised.

It's already fading, an alternating pulse as opposed to the constant fire.

With him still in your arms you rise from your bed, letting your high thread count cotton sheets—apparently a necessity according to Tony—silkily slide along your bare legs as you carry Ben out of your room and down the stairs as he clings to you.

You can feel the hesitation in his embrace, and you smile when his little hand begins to soothingly rub against the top of your back.

“I’m okay, Benny. What is mommy?” You ask him and stop at the foot of the stairs to put him down and squat in front of him, ignoring the soreness in your side.

“Mommy is stwong. Mommy pwoteks Ben.”

“That’s right.” You run your hands down along his tiny arms and pull his hands up to your lips to kiss them before taking his left hand in your right and lead him towards the small round table in your tiny dining room. Your bare feet relish in the heated floors, still, even after three and a half years, gleaming brightly up at you.

What had Tony said they were made of? You can’t remember. You suspect Vibranium infused wood as Ben hasn’t broken a single board and you’ve seen him break large limbs on trees easily.

You pull out his chair, designated as such by the bright red booster seat, slightly stained in an upside-down V where his little legs always sit open as he eats. You make to help him up, but he swerves around your offered assistance, determined not defiant.

“I do it, mommy. I get up by mysewf.” He argues confidently, brow furrowed, and though he struggles he does indeed manage to pull himself up by stepping on the bottom rung of the modern wooden chair.

He looks so much like Thor when he makes that face.

“Okay.” You give in, standing up straight and placing your hands on your hips as you watch him kneel on the seat of his booster and then slowly and carefully, with his hands clinging to the back of the chair he reaches back until they can find the wooden arms and he plops himself down. “Ben, you’re breaking your mommy’s heart.”

He looks up at you, smiling proudly as you scoot him in and his little arms rest on the dark chestnut wood, his place mat fidgeted with briefly.

“Can you wait right here for me while I get your breakfast?” You ask, genuinely waiting for his answer.

He nods. “I wew wait.”

“Thank you.” You smile and lean down to kiss the top of his blonde head before handing him a coloring book and disappearing into the kitchen.

Luckily your modern home is almost open concept, so you can keep an eye on Ben over the counter while you cook. It’s really a bungalow that Tony is testing out to see if they’d be popular places to live as perks of being senior agents on the compound. Although you’re not an agent, you were Tony’s apparently natural test subject when he’d found out you were pregnant.

You’d hesitated to accept at first but the fact that you were having Thor’s son and the dangers that fact might attract weighed heavily in your decision to accept Tony’s offer. Living so close to the compound, only a five-minute walk away and hidden in a grove of trees to give you privacy, is ideal and you gladly accept all the protections that Tony offers you.

Until you’d become a mother, you had never truly known fear. Always looking over your shoulder in case someone came for him, for Ben. That became your reality.

Of course you’d had no reason to worry. You and Ben were and still are perfectly safe. Still, your mind is always vaguely aware of your surroundings in familiar spaces and on high alert in the strange.

“Mommy?” Ben’s confident tone makes you smile, he’s your sunshine and had eventually chased all darkness away, almost eradicating it completely from your life.

“Hm?”

“When is my daddy coming home?”

“Mmmmmm.” You think, pursing your lips to the left as you contemplate his words.

Ben has asked you this question so many times that you’re used to it now. It doesn’t hurt anymore in the moment but later when you’re alone in bed, your mind wanders to Thor and your heart crumbles, crushing against the vivid flashes of his sweet embraces, tender kisses, and the promise to claim you permanently. He had kept that promise though he’s unaware of how he'd managed to do it, wherever the hell he is.

“I don’t know sweet pea. The last time Uncle Tony heard from your Daddy he was veeery far away.” You explain and give him a smile.

He’s watching you, his hand lazily running his yellow crayon across whatever page he’d picked. He seems so much older than three when he watches you like that. He’s so smart, so aware. You hadn’t been a dummy as a kid, but your boy is much smarter than any three-year-old you’ve ever known. Emotionally, mentally, physically; he’s superior in all aspects and you know that you have Thor’s Asgardian heritage to thank for that.

He’s not just watching you while he waits for his answer, he’s watching you. He’s reading your reactions, the small twitches of your face and the look in your eyes. You’d realized what he was doing back when he’d just turned three and have since tried very hard to keep as neutral an expression when you talk about Thor with him.

You want him to love his father so you compartmentalize your agony and any harsh feelings you have for Thor. You don’t want to raise your boy with any sort of hate.

“In space?” He asks, his lips puckered as he finishes his question then diverts his attention back to the picture of his book.

“Yes.” You flip his pancake and quickly add a few blueberries. “In space.”

“Daddy dudn’t miss us?”

Your heart aches at this question, you aren’t expecting it and it takes your breath away. You lean your hands on the edges of the stove, careful to avoid the burners as you swallow hard and try hard to subdue your suddenly ragged breathing.

How many more ways will your heart break?

“Mommy?” He’s only three and yet he sounds so concerned.

“I don’t know, sweet pea.” You force the sting in your eyes back and you look at your son to smile. You know that you don’t hide it well this time and Ben stares at you the entire time you finish cooking breakfast.

When you place a plate with a man sized portion of pancakes in front of him and begin to cut them into even triangles, he reaches out and places his tiny left hand over your right.

“Am sowwy, Mommy. I know you miss daddy.”

You put the fork and knife down and squat down beside his chair, your right hand sliding into the small space behind his back.

“I do.” You smile. “I loved your daddy very much a long time ago-"

“Befoe I was boun?”

“Yes. Before you were born.”

“Why did Daddy weeve?”

He's asked you this question many times too but today, today it's harder to answer.

“I…I don’t know sweet pea. I’m sure it was for a very good reason because he would have never left you. Never.” You reach up and poke his right cheek gently then as you stand, kiss his forehead before smoothing his baby-soft blonde hair, and go back to cutting his food.

“Syrup?” You ask him, setting your silverware aside in favor of handing him the smaller child sized fork.

“Yes, pweese!” He giggles and begins to sway from side to side in his seat excitedly. “And mewk!”

“And milk.” You chuckle at his ability to shrug the hard realities of your lives aside, pour his syrup for him, and then move to get him a sippy cup with ice cold milk.

Your Saturday morning passes as all others. You and Ben finish breakfast and then he watches a little educational TV while you clean up. Mostly documentaries about space and the outlying cosmos.

Occasionally he comes across a show about Thor or the other Avengers and their exploits throughout the world and he always gets excited when Thor flies.

You watch him bounce in his spot as Thor on the screen, a news clip of him fighting in New York so many years ago, thrusts his old hammer up into the air and zooms out of sight.

Then another clip plays as a witness recounts the video they recorded, in awe of the power that Thor summoned as he clings to the top of the Empire State Building and summons blinding and endless amounts of lighting accompanied by booming thunder.

“Wow…” You hear Ben mutter under his breath, and you smile.

You like showing him his father. You want him to love Thor because you know that one day they will meet and when you’re gone you don’t want Ben to be alone.

“Mommy,” He begins and turns to look at you where you’ve settled into the right corner of your gray, modern sofa.

“Yes, my angel?”

“Daddy is amazing!” He says it excitedly, but quiet, an awed whisper as his blue eyes sparkle very much like you remember Thor's doing.

You nod. “Yes. We ready to go outside?”

It's still early but routine dictates that Ben will play outside for the next few hours and ever worried, you will sit outside and watch him.

“Yeah!” He says loudly.

“We gotta get you changed first, go get what you wanna wear.”

“Okay!” He bounds up from his spot and races up the stairs, taking them as fast as he can given his little and short legs.

You get up to shut the TV off but stop with your thumb hovering over the power button as the documentary runs into Thor's personal life and pictures of him caught out and about with Jane Foster fill the screen as someone apparently close to Jane spews about how in love they had been but how their busy lives were always a struggle.

“He was always leaving. He was gone for two years one time. Jane never really moved on, not at first. I mean, have you seen the guy? He's got muscles for days.”

You shut it off and try to put the fading jealousy out of mind. You’re not jealous of Jane. Not really. Your jealousy is for the exposure. The certainty. The assurance of love.

Even now, four fucking years later, you wonder if he never told anyone about because he was embarrassed by you.

He'd paraded Jane across the world, so obviously proud of the woman he’d loved back then, and kept you shut up in your old broken-down home. When you’d finally asked him to take you out, he’d left you the very next day. It’s not hard to see that he’d obviously wanted to keep you out of sight.

As you hear your son’s returning steps, that pitter patter the heart of your very soul now, you wipe your face of any bitterness that might linger, any tinge of negative feeling towards his father because as he stops at the top of the stairs, he’s holding a familiar scaly black onesie. It’s bulky from the various straps and armor plating around the chest, and he struggles to hold it.

“You got it, sweet pea?” You ask him, moving towards the foot of the stairs ready to hurry up and take the costume off his hands.

“I gawdit, Mommy.” He says with deep concentration on his little face.

He furrows his brow again and gets only three steps down before he stops and sighs heavily.

“I’ll help you.” You tell him and make to go up to him, but he shakes his head wildly.

“No! Wook, Mommy.” He turns and looks as if he’s about to walk back up the stairs but instead as he takes a step forward a bright yellow circle sparks to life where his foot juts out and grows until it’s as tall as he is.

He steps through it and your jaw drops as your son disappears, the golden circle closing behind him. “Ben!”

“Wite heew, Mommy.” He giggles behind you and you wheel yourself around to face him just as another shining golden circle closes behind him.

“H-How did you do that, Ben?” You demand, squatting down in front of him as he shrugs his tiny shoulders.

“I dunno, I jus did it.” He holds out his costume towards you and you look down at it.

It isn’t often that you desperately wish Thor was here. You wonder what would have happened had he found out about Ben before he broke up with you and how life would be different but it was a passing thought. A casual wonder of a life that might have been.

It's never serious but in moments like these, you do desperately wish he’d come back. Not for you, but for Ben. Ben needs him. There are things that Ben does, things he can do that you have no experience with. You try and take it in stride as much as you can but the thought that Ben can…what? Create portals to get around? It scares you though you’ll never admit it to your boy.

You steel yourself and pull him into your arms to kiss his chubby cheeks until he’s giggling and squirming in your arms to get away.

You release him but take the outfit from his hands and stretch it out, staring at the costume. It’s really so much more than a costume though. Newly made for him by Tony and Bruce with T’Challa’s help, they’d recreated the black uniform that Thor had last worn when he was with them and a small model of Mjolnir to go with it. It’s light enough for you to carry with some effort, also made with Vibranium like the costume replica.

“Tony, this is too much.” You look at the tiny uniform laid out over Tony’s lab table, the small replica hammer beside it.

“What? No, it isn’t. The kid can’t stop talking about his father so-”

“You’ve already given us so much, Tony. The house? Ben’s schooling? The car?”

“Hey.” Tony holds his arms out to his sides, the defiance alight in his dark eyes. “It's done. Money's spent. Besides, kid. You’re family. Just accept it. Anyway, you can’t tell me what to do with my money. It’s my money.”

He blows a raspberry, pursing his lips as he moves around the table to hold the hammer out to you.

You take it and frown at him, relenting that he’s right. You can’t tell him what to do with his money.

“He’s going to flip when he sees it.” You weigh the hammer and gasp at the weight. “Jeez, this is heavy.”

“For you. The Tiny Titan will have a field day with it.”

You smile and put the hammer down.

“I left the cape off.” Tony says, reaching to scratch the back of his head before he slips his hands into the pockets of his jogging pants. “I think the kid will like it more if you make that for him yourself.”

You nod and look up at Tony. “Yeah. I really appreciate that, Tony, thanks.”

“Yep.” He moves around the table and is just moving past you when you reach out to grab his arm and stop him.

“No, Tony…” You look up at him, meeting his brown eyes as your own begin to water. “After everything…after he left and then Ben, you’ve-you saved us. Thank you.”

Tony continues to look you over, softening his snark as he assesses the sincerity in your expression and the tears flowing down along your cheeks.

“All of you. You’ve all been so-so important to me and Ben.”

Tony nods, shutting his eyes before he pulls you into a hug and rests his chin on the top of your head.

“You’re alright, Y/N. You and the kid will always have a place here. Like I said, you’re family.”

You place the suit on the floor then hook your hands into the bottom hem of his shirt. “Arms up.”

He giggles again and lifts them letting you remove his top and then his pants before holding the one-piece suit open at the waist so that he can step into the cool and pliable fabric.

He holds your shoulders as he steps into it and then slips his arms in when you offer them to him. “Turn around.”

He spins and you zip up the onesie and shut the top strap at the back of his neck.

“When weew I get my cape? Wike my Daddy’s?” He wonders, pulling at the sleeves before skipping over to the low shelf you placed by the door to get his little boots.

He sits on the floor and attempts to pull them on.

He’s slow and clumsy with them but it gives you time to move into the small closet under the stairs.

“I’ll finish it today. I promise.” You pull out the small fold of familiar red fabric and grab your big sewing kit to place by Ben’s feet as he continues to struggle with his boots. “I’m gonna change really quick, okay sweet pea?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“What’s our rule?” You ask him, stroking his rosy cheek.

“Wait inside foe Mommy.”

“Right. I’ll be right back.” You sprint up the stairs and make it as quick as possible slipping out of your pajama shorts and top then slipping on a pair of high waisted gray shorts over which you quickly pull what could pass as a dress if you were willing to sew on buttons down the long center slit of the light blue top. It has capped sleeves, a long flowing bottom, and dark blue flowers at random intervals along the bodice and skirt.

You run your brush through your hair and then hurry back downstairs and find Ben still struggling.

“Can I help you this time?” You ask, stopping with your hands on your hips.

Please need me. You think desperately.

Ben looks up at you and he blinks twice, his cerulean eyes wide and his rosebud lips slightly parted. “Mommy, you wook bootyfoe.”

You chuckle and squat down to pull back the stiff tongue of his heavy boot and hold it open for him. “Thanks, sweet pea. You look very handsome yourself.”

He giggles and tries to slip his left foot in, but you swipe the boot away from him.

“That’s not the right foot!” You laugh and hold the boot for him again.

He giggles once more and attempts to put that left foot in the right shoe again.

“Hey!” You chuckle and he giggles harder.

He does this with you for five minutes, the two of you laughing until you’re dizzy and Ben is nearly falling over before he finally slips his right foot into the boot and then his left into the next.

Once they’re laced up, although he’s only three he’s tough on shoes and Velcro is out of the question, he brings up his small right leg and excitedly slams his foot down on the wooden floor.

You gasp as the floor quivers beneath you and you press your hands to it to try and stop the shaking while also looking up over his head at the pictures of him as an adorable six month old. They rattle, the glass shimmering as it quivers and the frame falls crooked.

“Torben Y/L/N!” You begin, chastising him because he knows better.

“Am sowwy, Mommy! Am sowwy!” He rushes then throws his arms around your neck and hugs you slightly too tight.

You sigh as the sudden humor of the moment hits you and as soon as you laugh, he releases you, knowing he’s avoided a scolding.

“Come on, before we lose daylight and you break my picture frames again.”

“I said am sowwy, Mommy. Am sowwy.” You give him a playful scowl and move to get up but he’s intent on showing you that he’s sorry and gives you a big sloppy smooch then races to the door, turns the handle, and disappears into the sunny morning.

With a peaceful smile on your lips you pick up your kit and his unfinished cape before following him out into the beautiful late summer day. You walk out to your usual spot, a tree about fifteen feet away from the house and put your kit down and are about to settle down into the grass when an even tone stops you.

“Y/N!”

You turn to look behind you and spot Steve emerging from the trees and unofficial pathway between your home and the compound. He looks good, relaxed and well rested in a pair of jeans and a plain blue t-shirt. It makes his storm blue eyes pop.

“Hey.” You tell him, smiling as he moves towards you with purpose.

“Where is he?” He asks you, ducking down into a half-crouch as he gets closer.

“The usual. Running around like a maniac. He’ll be at it for the next ten minutes.” You turn to look towards your son who is indeed simply running around what you would consider your yard, laughing his head off from pure exhilaration.

Your yard is really an expanse of cleared out lawn that had previously been forest before Tony had converted it. Your entire property, which is really just Tony's property, has trees surrounding all four sides creating a bubble of privacy. It’s a large space, plenty of room for Ben to grow in and if Tony ever wants to give you neighbors, he’d have the space to do so though, judging by his protective nature over you and Ben, you doubt it.

“He always reminds me of those dogs that get all crazy and start running circles as fast as they can? Just because.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, I think his energy levels exceed those of a dog.”

You smile at your boy then watch as Steve moves to hide behind the tree you’d set up under. He shifts into the shadow, disappearing with ease and grace.

“Beeeeeeen.” He calls out quietly from behind the tree.

You shift your eyes to Ben and watch as he comes to a sudden halt and does an about-face to look at you.

Quickly you widen your eyes, pursing your lips as you feign innocence.

“What was that?” He asks, confused, almost shouting from where he stands at the opposite end of the yard.

“I have no idea.” You lie.

“Mommy, you a wiow!”

You laugh.

“I am not a liar!” Then drop your voice down to a whisper and speak from the corner of your lips. “He’s onto me.”

Steve chuckles.

Ben races towards you but stops as Steve suddenly shifts behind the tree to hide a bit better. It isn’t even a big shift. He simply tucked his foot in more, just a little. Probably a fraction of an inch closer to the tree and your son heard it.

“What is it, sweet pea?” You ask him and he holds up his right hand to silence you.

“We got and intwoodoe, Mommy.” His relentless skill, his innate abilities never cease to amaze you.

He suddenly shifts around and races off at a run just as another of those golden glowing circles appears and you gasp, startled again as he disappears and in the same instant another golden circle opens behind the tree and Ben runs at full speed into Steve’s arms.

You can see the shock in Steve’s eyes for a quick instant as he realizes what just happened, but he opens his arms in time and catches your boy while quickly shifting into play mode. He gives a yell as they collide and laughs as he maneuvers around the tree towards you, Ben’s excited laughter mixing with his.

“Unco Steeb!” He giggles and clings to Steve’s strong neck.

“Hey, buddy! How was the space report last night?”

“No meteos.” Ben suddenly pouts, resting his minute hands on Steve’s massive shoulders.

“Aww, I’m sorry Ben. I’m sure we’ll get some shooting stars soon though. Hey, you look good!” Steve admires Ben’s outfit, making Ben squirm from his grip back down to the ground as Steve bends over to gently place him on his feet.

“I wook wike my Daddy?” Ben asks, eager to look like his father, the God of Thunder.

He turns this way and that, then eyes the red cape you need to finish resting on your sewing kit wistfully.

“You sure do. I’m gonna go get some snacks from the store. You want me to bring you something?” Steve wonders, staring into your toddler’s blue eyes.

“No.”

“No? Okay. Hey, does this suit give you special powers?” Steve asks, squatting down to be closer to him and at his level.

“I dunno.” Ben shrugs, aloof as he reaches down to feel the soft Vibranium woven fabric, suddenly lost in thought.

“Well, why don’t you go try it out, see if it’ll make you fly?”

“Okay!” His excitement renewed, his voice rises in pitch, a sweet keening bell that fills you with endless joy.

You watch as Ben runs off again at full speed, tripping suddenly and falling once onto his hands and knees, but your boy is resilient and he gets back up and races off again.

“Steve, I really don’t need you putting ideas in his head.” Ben flying? Gods help your poor little house.

Steve laughs. “When did the portal thing happen?”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself as you gaze at your son with acute worry.

“Earlier this morning. But he said, ‘Look, Mommy.’ Like he knew that he could do it so who knows when it happened the first time?” You look at Steve who's watching you with concern.

“Are you worried about it?” He places his hands on his narrow hips and keeps his relentless blue gaze on you.

“No. And yes.” You look back at Ben and watch him laugh before he jumps up into the air, easily clearing six feet as he tries to grab one of the higher branches of a tree before he lands with a soft thud. “I mean, look at him.”

Steve turns to watch your boy and nods.

“I wish Thor was here.” You voice aloud for the first time ever.

“Y/N…” Steve shifts his gaze back to you, looking more than concerned, upset.

“I’ve never said that aloud before.” You smile at him sadly then turn to watch Ben again as he lays in the grass on his back and stares up at the sky pointing at stars that your eyes can't see.

“If I had known that what I was saying…I-I didn’t know about you, Y/N. I didn’t think when I told Thor what I did. I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back.” He reaches for you, placing his hand on your right bicep before taking a step towards you.

“You’ve told me all of this before, Steve. I know that you think you're the reason Thor left but…that was his choice. Besides, you don’t know everything. Thor…I mean, you didn’t know about me. None of you knew about me. He was ashamed of me. He had to have been.”

“Y/N, no.” Steve protests sternly, turning you to face him and taking hold of your other arm.

“What other reason is there, Steve? What you said? Come on. He told me he didn’t love me. I should have known better. I mean we were only together three weeks.” You shake your head. “If I hadn’t been such a silly girl about it then I would have seen it coming more clearly.”

“Three weeks is more than enough, Y/N. With some people you just know.”

“Maybe.” You shake your head and reach up to push his right hand down off of your shoulder, but he catches it and holds it gently when he sees the sheen of mist in your eyes. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Thor's gone. He's been gone. Sometimes I just…I wish he was here. Not for me but for Ben. He's growing and changing so much. He can do things that scare me sometimes.”

You drop your voice at the tail end of your sentence. You don’t want Ben to hear you saying that you’re afraid of what he can do. You want him to always be comfortable to show you and include you in every new aspect of himself that he discovers.

“Like the portal thing. Where does he go? Is it instantaneous or is he leaving whatever plane of existence I’m on and going somewhere I can’t follow? What if he doesn’t come back one day? Steve, I don’t know how to deal with this, what to say? What to do? Sometimes I feel like I’m going out of my fucking mind.” Your breath hitches as your panic spills over your carefully crafted emotional dam.

You try so very hard to be strong for Ben. You bury all of this worry and concern down deep in the darkest pit of yourself where your love for Thor also resides along with the horrible words he'd told you the day he left you that you try to forget it but never can.

However, every dam has a wall and if there's too much pressure…you sob once and Steve pulls you into his arms, hiding your face against his left shoulder so that if Ben turns to look, he won’t see you crying.

Steve knows you well.

“Y/N…you can’t keep these things to yourself. That's why we're here. All of us. If you’re worried about Ben, then tell me. I can…I’m not Thor, I know that, but I can try and understand him, Ben. I can keep up a little better. Much better than you can. I will follow him to the ends of the Earth and protect him if you need me to. Just say the word, Y/N, and I’m there.”

Although you know that you'll probably only take Steve up on his offer if it's unavoidably necessary, it's comforting to hear the words. You hug him back, clinging desperately to his hard form as you let your weakness show.

Your boy, your Ben is special, and you aren’t. Steve is right but somehow you need to find a way to keep up with him. You have to be strong for him. You are his mother and no one else can be his mother like you can.

“I’m so sorry.” Steve whispers against your hair, holding you tight. “I wish I could take it all back.”

Steve holds you, supports you for what feels like a long time when he finally leans down towards your ear to whisper.

“Ben's coming to check on you.”

You pull back, holding Steve's bulging biceps as you pull back and sniffle then make to wipe your nose on the back of your hand but stop when Steve reaches into his pocket and offers you a white handkerchief.

You stare at it for a second then laugh once but take it.

“Thanks.” You reply thickly.

“Mommy?” Ben scurries to your leg and clings to it over your dress-like top and leans back to stare up at your face.

You quickly clean yourself up then place your left hand on the back of his blonde head.

“I’m okay, sweet pea.”

“Why you cwying?” He asks, concern etched on his adorable face.

You swallow hard, sniffle again then move to sit in your usual spot by your sewing kit. Ben follows and as soon as you're seated, he settles himself down on your lap, still twisting to turn and watch your face.

“Mmmm.” The truth is probably best. You don’t want to lie to your son. “Because I really wish your daddy was here so that he could see how amazing you are. And so that you could show him your portals.”

Truth, but not all of it. You'll never tell him how terrified you are.

“Oh.”

“Ben?” Steve moves to both of you and squats down before you. He takes Ben's tiny left hand and runs his thumb along the back against his silky soft baby skin.

Ben turns his attention on Steve and waits.

“Mommy is very special right?”

Ben nods.

“And she's very strong, right?”

He nods again. “Mommy pwoteks Ben!”

He says it proudly, happily. Excited to brag it seems.

“Yes, she does.” Steve smiles at him then gives you a worried glance. “But sometimes Mommy needs help. You know that Mommy can’t run as fast as you and she can't jump as high as you. She can’t make portals and she isn’t as strong as you, right?”

Ben's smile shifts into a pout, his voice a desperate plea for forgiveness. “Said am sowwy, Mommy.”

He twists to look up at you again as Steve furrows his brow in confusion before focusing on you.

“He jumped on me this morning. I’m okay.” You explain and realization illuminates Steve's eyes.

He had been a witness to Ben's amazing strength. He'd been there when Ben had accidentally broken your arm. He'd only been about a year old but Ben had already been strong enough to break you.

“No, Ben, that's not what I mean.” Steve explains pulling his attention. “If Mommy can't follow you or see you, she gets worried.”

You frown lightly, appreciating his efforts but you don’t want Ben to be afraid too or worried about you fussing over him. Not about this. Not his powers.

“Steve…” You say softly, pulling his attention and then shaking your head.

Steve considers you for a moment before biting his plump bottom lip. He looks at Ben again who is watching Steve with his own small furrowed brow.

Gods, he looks like Thor!

“Mommy protects Ben, right?” Steve asks.

“Yeah!” Ben replies, fisting the air above him as he celebrates.

“Well, Ben, you need to take care of Mommy, too. Okay? Protect Mommy, just like she protects you.” Steve reaches out to tickle the center of Ben's tiny chest.

Ben giggles and squirms in your lap but catches Steve's finger.

“Okay!” Ben replies, just as excited as before.

“Okay.” Steve smiles then looks at you again. “Do you need anything from the store?”

You smile at him, appreciating him so intensely in the moment you could kiss him. You shake your head.

“No. We're okay. Thanks, Steve.”

Steve reaches behind your head and pulls you in so that he can press a kiss to your forehead before he does the same to Ben then gets to his feet.

“I'll be back.” He says again.

“Are you coming over for dinner?” You wonder.

With the Avengers away on mission, odds are Steve won't eat.

“Of course.” He says, turning to walk backwards. “No one's at the compound so, something happens, get into the kitchen and tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to lock it down until I get back.”

“’Kay.” You nod and watch him until he's disappeared through the trees again.

You look at Ben who is playing with the split of your top. He grabs one side and flips it up onto his head so that it appears as if he is wearing a hood.

“Excuse me, mister,” You poke his tummy and he giggles. “What are you doing?”

“Mommy, this is my disgwise.”

“Your disguise? But I can still see your face.” You point out.

He twists in your arms so that the fabric is covering his face completely. “Not wike this!”

You laugh and pull back your shirt’s long tail to reveal his angelic smile. He laughs loudly as you kiss his cheek.

“Want me to finish your cape?”

“Yeah!” He says and bounces excitedly.

“Okay.” With him still settled on your lap, he watches as you pull your sewing kit open and begin to fix the hem of the red fabric that's to be his cape.

With a serious look of concentration, Ben watches your hands work their magic for a good hour with him wrapped in your arms. He’s calm for so long and his eyes glue to the small movements you make, absorbing everything he sees and occasionally looking up to smile at you in anticipation. The work is therapeutic and having Ben in your arms helps soothe your aching heart.

His energy being what it is, however, he can’t sit still for much longer, so he slips out from under your arms and races around the yard again as you work on the cape.

For another hour you work on it. Finally, you fix the last stitch, pulling it tight then cut the excess fiber away before placing your needle and thread aside and shake out the thick red material. It slaps in the hot summer wind filling it with the distinct smell of coming rain and slight ozone. There’s also a strong smell of soap. Soap you hadn’t smelled in a long time because Thor had used it last in your shower and when he’d left, you’d thrown it out. How is it possible that his smell had clung to the fabric for four years?

You ignore the strong pull of nostalgia and focus on what’s really important.

“Ben!” You call out and giving you a jump, he's suddenly beside you, golden portal closing behind him. “Jeez, kid…Come here. I finished your caaaape.”

You draw out the word, eagerly swishing the shoulders of the fabric from side to side to make the red wave majestically. He laughs and bounces until he's standing right in front of you with his back to you, impatiently waiting as you attach the corners of the cape along Ben’s two tiny shoulders. As the clasps fit into place you give him a quick double-tap on the shoulder and he suddenly starts to spin in circles, laughing his little head off in pure glee as he tries to spin and watch his cape at the same time.

“I wook jus wike my daddy!” He exclaims then zooms off across the yard and then jumps up high, clearing a tree and disappearing into the surrounding wood.

“Ben, stay close!” You call out, not too worried for him here in the circle of your home.

He’s safe here. Of that you’re sure. You start to pile away your needles and thread, carefully organizing them in your kit before sealing the box.

You set it aside and shut your eyes as the sun peeks down through the top of your tall tree. You shoot the shifting branches a glance and watch the blinding yellow shine poke through and shut your eyes against it, leaning back on your hands as you relax a little. It’s almost noon. Ben will be hungry soon.

You take a quick glance towards the trees Ben had disappeared into and see his little form zoom in and out of the deeper shadows. He’s probably chasing some poor animal again. Last time it had been a chipmunk, but you’ve seen him chase wild rabbits and once a stray cat. He never hurts them of course. He just wants to watch them. He’s fascinated by animals so much that you have half a mind to buy him a dog, but you’ve decided to wait until he’s a little older and he won’t have as many accidents with his strength as he does now.

Shutting your eyes once more to the bright early afternoon, you look towards your feet, content to hear the distant rustle of Ben running around. It stops but you know he either just caught his bunny or whatever it is he’s chasing, or he decided to take a rest and lay on the grass. This leaves you to listen to the other sounds of the increasingly hot summer day.

The birds chirping, the same cardinals, common finches, and blue-jays as the ones you’d heard in a garden you’ve avoided over the years. You can hear the flow of water as the patrol boats in the distance sail along the lake and the very distant sounds of cadets singing their cadences.

There’s also the sound of heavy feet moving up from behind you and you smile before shaking your head. “Steve, I said we didn’t need anything. We’re going shopping on Tuesday.”

You open your eyes and blink against the brightness as you twist back and settle twinkling eyes on Steve.

Only it isn’t Steve.

You blink hard, struggling to put together what it is you think you’re seeing. You fight against the bright sun, the panic from earlier, and then reach over with your right hand to pinch your left bicep to make sure you didn’t just fall asleep under the tree. It hurts. You’re not dreaming.

“Hello.” Thor says, his booming voice as familiar to you as if it had just been yesterday when you’d last heard it.

You look back to the front, trying to process what it is that is happening right now. You pinched yourself and it hurt. Not asleep. Unless you’ve gone completely insane and you’ve started to hallucinate the man who broke your heart the worst, it means only one thing.

That really is Thor.

Your breathing is heavier but only slightly. He moves around you so that he can stand before you, staring down at you and blinking at you with nervous energy radiating off of his massive form. He looks the same. His muscles are rippling through his slightly loose gray t-shirt. It’s overstretched which tells you he’s been wearing it a lot. Although the arms are still tight around his massive biceps and chest, around what you know must still be a well-defined stomach and waist, it hangs loose. His thighs are huge, pushing hard against the dark blue of his jeans. His skin is still a perfect tanned peach, his hair a little longer than you remember it but only slightly, still looking brown but blonde under the sunlight and flowing this way and that. His beard is a little thicker but still nicely trimmed.

He’s been taking care of himself while he’s been gone. You’re not sure why you’re kind of disappointed by that fact but you should be happy about it. It’s good that he’s good. You also don’t know why you’re feeling a mixture of such anger with all the other emotions you’ve always known you’d feel if you ever saw him again.

Sadness? Check. Aching pining? Check. Fear? Check. Apprehension? Check. Uncertainty? Check. Confusion? Check. Curiosity? Check. But anger? Anger you had not planned for. You’re not sure what to do with it. You glance behind him quickly, scanning the trees for Ben but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Shit…what are you supposed to say? How are you supposed to say it? How do you tell him?

“I know you must not…you must be angry with me.” Thor says, taking your breath away with his innate ability to read you like a fucking book.

How has that not changed? Why does he know that you’re angry when you don’t even know why you’re angry at him?

You glare up at him for a second before you very slowly get to your feet.

As you stand up, Thor’s eyes rake over your body looking you from head to toe and then back to meet your eyes. It makes you feel exposed and you don’t like it though you’d once been thrilled when Thor had eyed you up so greedily. Why is he looking at you like this?

“Please say something.” He begs and you remember that begging tone only the last time he’d used it on you was to beg you for a kiss.

It hurts, remembering that and you shut your eyes tight, struggling to find your voice.

“Why are you here?” You blurt out in a gasp, reaching up to stroke your chest for a second as you try and soothe the ache.

Thor takes a step towards you and you take an immediate step back.

“No.” You gasp, shaking your head. “That’s close enough.”

You’re surprised by how soft and calm your voice is despite the loss of breath. You don’t sound angry. You’re not screaming. You’re just talking at normal volume.

You shut your eyes tightly and chase away the shock as best you can so that you can focus on Thor properly. You want to cry. Not because you’re hurting but the shock is overwhelming. All of the things you’re feeling all in one instant is making you feel everything and nothing at the same time.

“Forgive me.” Thor sighs, and you hear the quiver in his voice.

You search for his eyes, looking for the startling blue that you’ve come to know in your son’s eyes. And he meets your gaze. Thor’s eyes look into yours and you feel like something settles within you.

It’s not fair and it isn’t right that after all these years—four fucking years—he shifts you and it’s like you’re whole again. He’d taken a piece of you with him and now that he’s here in front of you he’s brought it back for you.

“Thor, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” He says as if he’d just gone home for a few days and was just curious as to how you were. “I…”

Hesitation makes him fidget and his large hands shift and twitch as he tries to find a way to say what it is, he’s trying to say.

“I m-missed you.” He says it so quietly you almost think you don’t hear him correctly.

The fear in his voice is so palpable that he knows he shouldn’t be telling you this. After what he said and did on that last day when he’d broken your heart, robbing you of it completely, he has no right to miss you and he’s well aware of that fact.

“You…” You begin but your eyes suddenly shoot to his leg as your blonde haired and blue-eyed toddler tackles Thor’s massive leg.

Ben looks so small beside his father, but he looks like a miniature. Especially in that outfit with the scrap from Thor’s cape that you’d cut for him, the one he’d left in your house.

Your heart begins to pound in your chest as you realize that the moment has finally come and before you can say anything, Thor looks down at your very tiny boy and watches as Ben’s shining blue eyes stare up at his face, beaming with awe, glee, and excitement as he finally lays eyes on his daddy.

“Who’s this?” Thor asks as a small smile curves his lips, his brow furrowed as he stares down at his spitting image.

You reach up with your right hand to cover your trembling lips and wrap your left arm around your torso to try and keep yourself from falling apart. You watch as Ben stares with admiration up at Thor, clearly so lost in the euphoria that is being in his father’s presence he didn’t hear Thor ask who he is.

You hate Thor for leaving and yourself for not trying harder to get a hold of him to let him know that Ben was born and his son. Sure, he’d been in space, but Tony could have pulled strings at NASA or something.

“Hi, Daddy!” Ben exclaims and your heart lurches.

Thor’s smile fades completely as he stares down at your boy. He stares for what feels like ages while you finally tear your eyes away from Ben to look at Thor’s face. Is he going to fuck this up? He better not fuck this up. If he breaks Ben’s heart, you’re going to kill him.

Finally, he looks at you his eyebrows lifted softly as he struggles with this revelation. You force yourself not to cry. You can’t cry. Not in this moment. Ben will worry and you don’t want to ruin this for him. All you can do is nod lightly as Thor searches what he can see of your face to see if this is really the truth.

When you don’t deny it, he looks back down at Ben and very slowly kneels on one knee to look at his son on even footing. His large hands find home around Ben’s tiny arms and he slides his hands down along the black sleeves of Ben’s outfit before landing on his hands which Thor takes. He holds his hands out flat and Ben leaves his little ones pressed against the center of Thor’s massive palms.

You can see the struggle on Thor’s face. Not that he can’t accept Ben as his son, the struggle is for how he must be realizing that he’d missed out on the first three years of Ben’s life. The wasted time, the loss of what he can never get back. He looks for a moment as if he wants to cry and he might have if he didn’t look up and meet Ben’s own worried and furrowed brow.

Thor closes his hands around Ben’s and pulls him a little closer. “What-?”

No! He can’t let on that he didn’t even know that Ben existed. “Ben?”

Ben turns to look at you, barely willing to tear his eyes away from the man he’d only seen on screens and in pictures.

“Why don’t you show your daddy your cape?” You drop your right hand and force your previous composure back into place as best as you can.

“Ben?” Thor asks, looking at you briefly before training his eyes on Ben again.

“You wike my cape, Daddy? Mommy made it foe me, weely stwong! But she took foevow.” He complains and you can’t help but chuckle lightly.

Even when you’ve felt your worst, Ben has always been your light and pulled you out of your darkness.

“Did she?” Thor asks, probably smiling at what he must recognize as his own impatience. “It is a masterful cape. It looks just like mine.”

Ben giggles and pulls away from Thor’s grip to spin and make his cape billow behind him.

“Because it is your cape.” You tell him, your smile falling as you address Thor directly.

He looks at you and his own smile disappears, replaced by a look of pain and regret.

“The cape you left at my old house. I cut a piece of it off and made this one for him.”

Thor watches you for so long that you look away from his piercing gaze and down at the ground. You see the pity and regret in his gaze. The unspoken apologies and the endless questions. You’re not ready for that yet. Ben seems to notice too because he races back to Thor and places his little hands on Thor’s cheeks to get his attention again.

“We waited and waited foe you, Daddy! Why did you come so wate? Did you not miss us?” Ben pouts, as Thor places his large hands on Ben’s small sides.

“Yes, of course I missed you. Very much. I am very sorry, Ben. I was…”

“Daddy was working, remember, sweet pea?”

“In space?” Ben asks, staring into Thor’s eyes to search for this truth.

“Yes.” Thor says firmly. “In space. I am sorry that I was gone for so long, but I am here now. I am here.”

You shut your eyes, struggling with the pain in your chest again before licking your lips as they’re suddenly very dry.

“Ben, I think it’s time for lunch. You want some chicken and carrots?” You ask him, trying to shift back into your routine even if Thor is suddenly here with you again.

“Yeah, Mommy!” He says excitedly before moving to pick up your sewing kit and racing towards the house with ease and grace.

He definitely didn’t get that from you.

“He is strong.” Thor realizes.

“More than you know.” You say as you move towards the house too.

“Daddy, weew you stay foe wunch?” Ben asks, excited but unsure.

“I…” Thor says, hesitating because you’re not the one inviting him. You can hear the urge in his voice to stay and you’re not going to deny your son his father.

“Yes.” You whisper at Thor and he quickly responds.

“Of course, Ben. I shall stay.”

“Yay!” Ben exclaims and shoves the large brown door open before disappearing into the house.

Thor turns to look at you as he settles into a walk beside you, keeping some space between you.

“When-? Why did you not tell me?” Thor demands, pained and clearly suffering.

You’d feel worse for him if you hadn’t struggled so much raising Ben on your own for so long.

“You were gone before I found out. I didn’t have my first ultrasound until I was about four and a half months. By that time, you had stopped making contact with Tony completely. I had no way to tell you.” You’re calm again, stating facts, no reason to get emotional about them when you have to go inside and cook for your boy.

Still, although your tone is even, your heart is racing, and your stomach is in knots.

“Forgive me.” Thor gasps, stopping his walk as he turns to face you, clearly these facts are emotional for him.

He reaches out to take your left hand. You stare at him, the spots where he’s touching you burning like no one else’s touch has ever made you sear. Why must he make this difficult? You can’t fall apart right now. You have to be a mommy first, and yet…

“I am so sorry, Y/N. Had I known…had I been aware I would have-”

“What?” You ask, a tight smile given to him, more of a grimace as you meet his eyes. “You wouldn’t have told me that I was boring? You wouldn’t have been so tired of me all of a sudden?”

You really don’t want to do this now. This is not a good time. You shake your head, refusing to see the sorrow in Thor’s face as you throw his hurtful words back at him. The fact that you’re very calm about it must also be adding to the intensity of your words.

“This isn’t the time. We need to get inside before he comes back out to check what’s taking us so long.” You pull your hand out of his grip and move towards the house again and Thor follows. “He knows you. He knows about Loki and Odin and Frigga. He knows about Asgard and your sister Hela. I told him as much as I could, and he learned the rest on TV and from Bruce and Tony. He loves you, Thor.”

You look at him and try and impress the importance of what’s about to happen using only your tone of voice and the look in your eyes.

“You’re his hero. I’ve been raising him so that he loves you when he sees you because I knew that he’d need you. There’s so much that we need to talk about. His strength, his other abilities, there's so much to figure out but if you can’t stay, if you don’t want to do this with him, then go away, Thor. Go back to whatever planet you were on and leave us alone. At this age, he’ll hopefully forget he ever met you.”

You can see the flicker of pain in his face that your words cause but Thor also steels his jaw. Is he not getting it?

“You can’t just walk out on him like you did with me.” You insist, making your voice harder so that he might get the seriousness of what you’re saying.

“Y/N…” He begins, probably resenting the way you phrased it, but it’s true. He’d let you. He’d walked into your life like a tempest and just as quickly he was gone. He cannot do that with Ben.

“No, Thor. Stop talking. I mean it. This boy loves you without question. You are his father. If you walk into that house to have lunch, you better be willing to commit to him because he’s your son and he needs you. Can you do that? Can you stick around for him?”

You’re harsh with your words because nothing has ever been this important. Forget your past with Thor, any feelings you might feel right now, or pain that his presence might be causing you. All that matters is Ben.

Thor looks at your modern gray bungalow, embellished with black accent walls and roofing. The second story, where your bedroom is, has a small balcony overlooking the yard. It’s a far cry from the broken-down house you’d lived in before and you wonder if he’s comparing the two. He must have millions of questions for you but all he does is look at you again with those electrifying blue eyes stealing your breath. He turns and closes the distance to your house in four large steps then disappears into the black hole that is your doorway, walking back into yours and Ben’s lives forever.

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