#Can’t wait to hit that 18 month marker!

[almondmilkcleanser]

Hardbody living the soft life

[clangenrising]

Month 18 - Greenleaf

As the dusk patrol padded along the southern border, Slatepaw tried to squint into the distance to spot EarthClan’s first marker in the hopes that, any moment now, they would wrap back around to where they started and be released from duty. She was hoping that Sparrowsway would be in camp when they returned so she could offer to share a meal with him. It had been forever since they’d had any one on one time and, if she hadn’t known any better, she might have thought he was avoiding her. 

Beside her, Fogpaw was going on about something or other and had been for the last several minutes. Slatepaw tried to listen but heard the words “for the spell to work” and tuned out again. As much as she loved her sister, she didn’t understand how she believed in spells and things and expressing that opinion never went anywhere good so she tended to keep her mouth shut about it. 

Pantherhaze, on the other hand, was nodding along and smiling kindly. Slatepaw smiled too, fondly appreciating her amazing and compassionate mentor. He simply was the best -- not like Scorchplume who still made Slatepaw’s fur prickle with unease when they were too close to each other. There was something wrong with her, especially if Fogpaw’s ramblings on “speechcraft” were anything to go by. 

Not to mention the way she treated Ghost. The worst of it was that Scorchplume’s hatred for him had rubbed off on Fogpaw somehow. It would have been enough to glare at him all the time and turn her nose up when he walked by but turning his own daughter against him and pushing their family even further apart? It made Slatepaw want to scream. 

Slatepaw sighed heavily and let her gaze wander through the dry, prickly grass and over the fresh pawprints in the mud from last night’s sudden rainstorm and- 

“Wait,” she said aloud, scrunching up her nose as the realization hit her. “Look at these tracks.” 

“What is it?” Pantherhaze asked as he stepped closer. 

“These tracks are coming from the city, aren’t they?” she asked. 

Fogpaw leaned in and opened her mouth to drink in the scent of the steps, wrinkling her nose and declaring, “Ugh! They smell like onions!” 

“They must have disguised their scents,” Scorchplume hummed darkly, squinting at the path. “It could be a war party.” 

“There’s only three of them,” Slatepaw said. Scorchplume cocked a brow but said nothing. Instead, she glanced at Pantherhaze who nodded and Slatepaw puffed up in pride.

“If it’s a war party, it's a small one,” he said. “They’re probably hunters.” 

“I thought Ghost was supposed to stop the rogues from hunting in our territory,” Fogpaw scowled. 

“He’s not all powerful, Fogpaw,” said Scorchplume, somehow defending him and putting him down in the same breath -- typical Scorchplume. 

“We should try and catch them,” Slatepaw said, boldly lifting her chin. 

“Yeah,” Fogpaw agreed. 

Scorchplume frowned. “I think you two should probably run back to camp for reinforcements.” 

“I think it should be fine,” Pantherhaze countered. “They’re about ten moons old now, they can handle a fight where the enemy is outnumbered.” 

“Yeah!” Fogpaw said again. “We’ve got this, Scorchplume. Come on!” 

“Alright,” sighed the ginger warrior. “Just be careful.” 

“We will,” Slatepaw nodded. Like Pantherhaze said, they could handle this. 

“This way,” Pantherhaze said, starting after the tracks. “They can’t be too far. Stay low and quiet and follow my lead.” Both apprentices nodded and the patrol slank into the grass. 

Slatepaw’s entire body was rigid with adrenaline as they stalked through the field, paws falling directly into step with the tracks they were following. She went over the maneuvers Pantherhaze and Floodstrike had taught her over and over in her head as they went, praying to StarClan that she was ready for her first real fight. 

The night was dark and full of crickets but, soon enough, she could hear voices laughing nearby -- voices she didn’t recognize. Pantherhaze lifted the tip of his tail to stop them and they all stilled, swiveling their ears to try and pinpoint the location of the sounds. 

“I’m serious, he’s cute!” a high, feminine voice laughed. 

Another voice, lower but still feminine, replied, “You’re nuts, Minnie. Bandit’s a solid four.” 

“You just don’t know him like I do,” said the first voice - Minnie. “He’s cute, I’m telling you.” 

“Let her have him, Tink,” said a third, more brash feminine voice. “It’s her life.” 

“Are you looking at anybody new?” said the second voice - Tink. 

“No.” The third voice said with finality, bringing the whole mood down.

Pantherhaze’s hind quarters started to wiggle where he had bunched them underneath him and Slatepaw moved to copy him. There was a beat of silence that hung tensely in the air, like the moment before a lightning strike, and then the patrol shot forward and collided with the hunting party who hissed and bristled right before impact. 

Slatepaw struck out at a creamy tabby she-cat in a bright green collar. The kittypet jumped up on her toes and batted harshly back at her but before she could overwhelm Slatepaw, Fogpaw was leaping up to kick her side, sending her staggering. Pantherhaze was wrestling with a brown and white tabby while Scorchplume hissed at another brown tabby with dark stripes who was snarling at her uneasily. After another swipe or two, Pantherhaze’s opponent pulled back and the two groups squared off. 

“Scorch, you bitch,” sneered the cat Pantherhaze had been fighting. “I’ll tear your face off.” 

“We’ve got you outnumbered, Bella,” Scorchplume spat back in a very similar tone. “Go home or else.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Bella reared up into an arch. “I’m the Speaker now. I’ll go wherever I damn well please!” 

“Oh, really?” Scorch huffed a laugh, “Then why does everyone still report to Sardine?” Bella did not seem to like that, tail snapping side to side. 

“Leave our territory,” Pantherhaze interjected before the verbal sparring could resume. “You have until the count of three. One…”

“Shut up, dog face!” Bella hissed at him. 

“Two…” Pantherhaze continued, undaunted. Slatepaw tensed into her battle crouch, wishing she felt as calm as he seemed. 

“Are we fighting them?” asked Minnie, the brown tabby opposite Scorchplume, her eyes darting sideways towards Bella. She and the other cat, Tink, seemed uneasy but their stances were solid enough. They weren’t the kind of kittypets Slatepaw had imagined. 

Bella grit her teeth, glancing over the Clan cats. Her eyes snagged on Fogpaw and Slatepaw curled her lips and stepped forward to block her view.

“Three…” Pantherhaze said, his tone a final warning. 

“Fine!” Bella snapped, tail lashing. “I’ll be back, though. You’ll all suffer for what you’ve done.” 

“Make threats when you can back them up,” Scorchplume growled. “Right now, you’re leaving.” 

Pantherhaze stepped towards Slatepaw in order to make room for the kittypets to pass him. After a tense, fur-prickling moment, Bella growled and stomped through the opening and the others followed her. The patrol shifted to keep eyes on them as they went. 

“Don’t try looping back around,” Pantherhaze called after her. “We’ll be watching the border all night.” Bella growled lowly but kept walking. Slatepaw sighed in relief and let the tightness in her shoulders dissolve a bit. 

“That was easier than I thought it would be,” Pantherhaze admitted softly. 

“Yeah, we barely did any fighting,” Slatepaw pouted. 

“Be glad for that,” said Scorchplume. “Never solve problems with claws when you could solve them with words.” Fogpaw nodded obediently and Slatepaw’s pelt prickled. 

“But that’s what warriors do,” she said, “we fight to defend our Clan.” 

“Only when we have to,” Pantherhaze soothed. “That’s why we have mediators -- to prevent fighting when possible.” 

“Yeah,” Fogpaw chimed in, “Don’t you remember what mama said?” 

Slatepaw bristled, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Yes!” she frowned deeper, “I’m just saying…” She didn’t know what she was just saying but she didn’t like the insinuation that she had forgotten her mother’s teachings. 

Pantherhaze brushed his tail over her back reassuringly. “Why don’t you two run back to camp and tell someone what happened and to send another patrol to watch the border. Scorchplume and I will finish up the patrol and meet you there.” 

“Okay,” Slatepaw wilted. 

“You did great, Slatepaw,” Pantherhaze said, leaning in to lower his voice. “I’m really proud of you for spotting those tracks and being able to interpret them so well.” 

“Yeah?” she looked up at him through her lashes, feeling small. 

“Yeah,” he smiled. “You’re going to be a great warrior.” She smiled tentatively back. “Now go on and rest for the night. You’ve earned it.” 

“Okay,” she nodded and turned to follow Fogpaw who had been waiting for her. They walked in silence for a few moments but eventually, Fogpaw spoke. 

“Hey, did I hurt your feelings?” she asked. 

“No,” Slatepaw said defensively, then softly, “A little.”

“I’m sorry,” Fogpaw said. “I didn’t mean to.” Slatepaw looked over at her sister and hated how little she could read in her flat expression. Sometimes she wondered if Fogpaw meant anything she said or if she’d just learned how to say the right things from Scorchplume. She chided herself at the thought. Of course Fogpaw was sorry! What a terrible thing to think about her own sister. 

“It’s okay,” Slatepaw forced herself to smile. “I understand.” 

Fogpaw smiled brightly and twined her tail with Slatepaw’s. “Come on, let’s go back to camp so we can eat something! I’m starved.” 

“Yeah,” Slatepaw said, wanting to crawl into the earth, “me too…” Fogpaw didn’t seem to pick up on the disappointment in her voice and Slatepaw couldn’t figure out whether that made her feel better or worse.

[chilly-me-softly]

Every Little Thing's Gonna Be Alright • Chapter 23

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22

A few months later the situation between Evelyn and Jack was quite stable, both of them very happy with their relationship and always doing their best to see each other as much as possible. Not everything had always been rosy, of course, sometimes distance or small misunderstandings turning into big ones had contributed to create bumps along the way. But the two of them always found a way to fix things, either in person or from a distance.

Cece continued to grow pampered by everyone, giving smiles and babbles here and there. It was impressive how much she had achieved in that time, how she could keep everyone trapped around her little finger. How much love Evelyn felt for that little creature who every day added a brick to her personal growth and development.

Another football season was coming to an end and Jack had made her a proposal she'd had a lot to think about recently. Villa's last game would be at home and not only had Jack asked her to go to the game, but also to take part in the traditional lap of honour to thank all the fans for their support during the season.

Needless to say, she had taken a few days to think about it. Taking part in the event would certainly have meant first of all making their relationship public, exposing not only her but also Cece and giving the green light to various gossips and unwanted free opinions. On the other hand, however, there was being able to spend time with him, in his world. Taking the relationship a step further.

It was in those moments that she realised that her good intention to think less and act more would be more difficult to carry out. If she could let herself loose on some things, well, there was still something of her old self that surfaced from time to time. It was always like that, she knew from the start that she would eventually go but until that day she wouldn't stop worrying about this and that, about what might happen....

As she sits on the bed keeping an eye on Cece who is playing with the puppet given to her by Ben, Jack phones her. A smile automatically forms on her face as she runs her finger across the screen to accept the call. It's time to give him an answer.

"Hey you"

"Hi. Where are you? Doesn't look like your room to me or am I wrong"

"We're in Ben's room. Apparently this girl here got bored of hers" Evelyn shifts her phone slightly to also frame Cece who continues to chew on that bear's ear she holds in her hands undisturbed.

"Who is he? Who is he? Is he Jack?" she coos as the little girl pays attention to that familiar figure she now sees regularly, waving her little legs and babbling something making Jack smile.

"Hi sweety! Hi! I miss you so much"

"So I have news for you"

"Really?"

"Don't act like you didn't call just for that" he chuckles throwing a quick glance at the calendar where the date is marked a thousand times with a black marker.

"So what did you decide?"

"Well me and my girl have been consulting a lot"

"Oh yeah?" he interrupts her smiling cheekily as he closes one hand in a fist and uses it to hold up his head.

"Yeah" she teases him sticking her tongue out at him as Cece starts opening and closing her hand to greet him.

"Ha ha she doesn't like it when you're a smartass. Tell him we're not going anymore"

"That's not true!" his voice almost covers the last part of what she's saying but in reality he's understood all too well that in a few days he'll be able to hold them both again, and the smile on his face cancels out the poor attempt to claim he's offended.

"Say bye bye to Jack"

"Nah she likes me"

"To sleep, sure. I'm a little jealous to be honest she has the blanket with your scent on it though"

"You have me" he promptly replies as she bites her lip moving her gaze out of the camera frame.

And they continue to talk as they always do, the confirmation took a load off both of them, with Jack most of the time just watching the two girls while Evelyn plays with Cece wishing time could move faster. Until they are forced to interrupt the conversation due to a nappy change and the little one has already hit her with the puppet a couple of times.

-

Evelyn and Cece arrived at Jack's a few days before the last game of the season. He has promised that sooner or later they will also be able to get out of that house and maybe take a walk in the park taking advantage of the beautiful days the weather is offering, but the first few days are for him and no one else.

He comes home after the last training session of the season a little later than usual because he stopped for a little extra with some teammates and finds no one downstairs. As he goes upstairs, however, Evelyn's voice and Cece's little cries become more and more indistinct enough to take him to his room, and when he opens that door he can't help but smile. The two of them are playing tenderly with Evelyn leaning over to kiss the little one's tummy and the baby laughing moving her tiny hands, closing her fists around her mommy's hair.

He can't help himself when Cece won't let go of a lock of Evelyn's hair causing her to moan, laughing and blowing his cover. Evelyn looks up at him immediately lighting up and signalling for him to come closer.

"We have a surprise for you" she tells him and his curiosity immediately ignites so much that he almost runs making those few steps that separate him from the bed.

"What is it?" Evelyn simply shifts her gaze between him and the girl wanting to point at something and he after a moment gets the message by lowering his gaze, his eyes immediately falling on the Villa crest and wandering over the small kit trying to find differences from the usual. But it's only when Cece rolls onto her side, showing part of the Grealish name on her back, that he swears his heart has stopped beating for a few moments.

Cece's kit had always been plain, no name no number on the back. Evelyn had always felt on the edge for a choice that was so simple on the outside but actually brought up so many questions. Should she have had 'Daddy' written on it? No it was too soon. What did Jack think, was it too much? And again, does using his surname mean forcing him to take responsibility? What are we? Geez, the fight with her madness was really open.

And it was Jack who had then put an end to her paranoia, as always, and bought a small plain kit, giving her further time to clear her head and be satisfied with the fact that for the time being she would still wear the kit while supporting the team he played for.

"Since we're only going to see each other tomorrow when the game is over, we made a preview just for you" Evelyn pulled him back into the room and he reached out to the little girl taking her in his arms.

"Probably for the best or Jack would have cried in front of the whole stadium. Don't you think so too?" he murmurs cuddling the little girl, who seems to just want to reach up his nose, under Evelyn's tender gaze.

"I can't wait for tomorrow now. I mean look at this!" Jack lifts her up in the air like in the Lion King scene so he can look at that name once more and Evelyn can't help but laugh at the boy's excitement, happy it was the right choice after months.

The atmosphere in the stadium is something sensational, but she wouldn't have expected less to be honest. That's how it is when someone cares about a team, you stick together through thick and thin. It's a mutual kind of love. It doesn't matter if the previous week went well or badly, every time you try to do your best on one side and show all the support on the other. And that season for Villa had not gone badly at all, no one's fate depended on that game but it was still an opportunity and should be taken as such.

That hour and a half passed between watching something of the game, entertaining Cece, chatting with some of the girls she had already met in the previous months until the final whistle blew and little by little everyone began to prepare to take the field. Having fulfilled their duties more or less, even the players can finally allow themselves to relax. Jack is quick to find them and take Cece in his arms leaving her a loud kiss on the cheek, happy for the win and the moment.

"Ready?" Evelyn just nods, following Jack around the field but still remaining a little on the sidelines allowing him to do what he needs to do, greet the fans and enjoy the moment. More than ever she can understand when both he and her brother referred to those people as a second family, seeing them all gathered there happy and smiling joking with each other or playing with their kids. Everyone seems to know everyone, everyone is nice to everyone and she really has a good time getting to know this new family.

Once home and having put Cece to bed, who had fallen asleep in the midst of all the commotion, the two of them enjoy a moment alone snuggled up on the sofa.

"Today was nice"

"Evelyn" Jack sighs and she waits for him to continue, but when that doesn't happen she lifts her head from his chest meeting his eyes, "Move in here"

"What? Are you sure? Just know it's different from having us here only once in a while"

"I want everything. I want you here every day when I wake up or when I go to sleep. I want you here to cheer me up or have fun together. I want to live both of you every day, I want to be part of your lives fully, make this our home and I don't want to worry anymore that you might leave. I want to give you everything I'm capable of and build something strong with you" Jack strokes her cheek softly.

"So what do you say?"

----

I just want to let you know that there won't be a chapter next week, I need to focus on something else but I'll be back for the last chapters normally then. In the meantime I hope you enjoyed this one x

Tag: @alexajanecollins @emwritesfootball @rosie7703

Chapter 24

[shesclearlya3]

Class Fight (p.1)

pairing: teen!dandy mott x teen!reader

word count: 3,303

warnings: language, jealous dandy, slightly au!dandy, all characters are 18

part 2 part 3

1.

It was the first semester of your Senior year. The first month of school had flown by, and the Fall dance was just a few weeks away. Your small group of girlfriends was anxiously awaiting for their crushes to ask them.

You weren’t particularly concerned with this. The dance fell on the one Saturday of the month where you had to accompany your mother to some stupid Tupperware party. It was the newest trend in American dining, and your mother needed you as her plus one. It wouldn’t hurt to miss one dance… right?

Your best friends Winter and Zoe were excited, but they were devastated you couldn’t come. You always went with them as a trio.

“Are you sure you couldn’t cancel?” Winter asked while you washed your hands in the bathroom sink. The school day was over, and you planned on accompanying her to the diner for greasy food and to catch up on homework.

“I already promised her weeks ago,” you said, drying your hands. “There’s still prom?”

Winter nodded in understanding, and you both knew it was the end of that discussion. Zoe came out of the stall, her face flushed and hair tied back. She looked clammy.

“You alright in there?” Winter asked her as Zoe took a disposable cup and drank some water.

“Kyle asked me to the dance!” Zoe replied breathlessly. You and Winter both congratulated her, and Winter asked why she looked so sick.

“I just got overwhelmed, you know? He came up and asked me right as I put my books away. I didn’t think he was going too, he never brought it up before-.”

You followed them out as Zoe recanted the story of how Kyle asked her. The halls were mostly cleared now as kids scrambled to leave as soon as possible.

“You’re riding with us, right?” Zoe then asked you, raising a neat eyebrow at you.

“Yes, Dandy probably left already.”

The girls both smirked to themselves, but you ignored it. You were used to it by now.

The thing was, Dandy Mott was the best looking guy in school, in your opinion. You had never attended a public school in your life, but you knew those boys could never compare. Dandy was from the wealthiest family in your private district, and with his looks, girls were all over him.

However, he was quite the character. 

Dandy didn’t necessarily associate with a particular group of kids. He was reticent and didn’t bother with any clubs, but he was quite attuned to the drama program. He was also known for his temper if things didn’t go his way, but age matured him, mostly. You were one of the few people who he actually gave a damn about in life. You attributed that to knowing him before school. Your grandfather was a business partner with the Mott family, where your family name found their wealth, and how you two were friends.

You weren’t bothered by the unwanted attention you got from girls attempting to weasel their way into your circle for the chance to talk to Dandy. Most of them gave up quickly, and that was that. Plus, you had Winter and Zoe as your protectors. They weren’t afraid to kick a bitch in the vagina if they overstepped the clear boundaries you had set for yourself. Dandy trusted you, and you weren’t about to fuck that up.

Plus, his mother, Gloria, was continually trying to set him up with girls in other parts of town. 

You climbed into Zoe’s new car, buckling your seatbelt and glancing across the almost deserted parking lot. You spotted him instantly, sitting in his car and staring right back. You slowly raised your hand, giving him a wave. Dandy slowly reciprocated the action, and you swore you saw him smile.

You spent the evening with the girls, eating dinner and trying to explain the symbolism in the required reading in English. The football team had finished their practice and were crowding what few booths and tables were left. You tried to block out their raucous laughter, loudly asking Zoe to read your theory to see if it were plausible. 

Winter had noticed the Quarterback, Jason, occasionally staring at you as he chewed his burger. Your back was to him, so you had no idea. She didn’t say anything, instead watching him from the corner of her eye, figuring he wouldn’t approach your table. 

“I just think it only makes sense to me,” you told Zoe, scratching your head. “I can’t concentrate with the boys screaming for no reason.”

“I think it makes perfect sense. You did misspell authority, though…”

You laughed to yourself, glancing around the diner as Zoe fixed your spelling. You were so distracted, you misspelled simple words. 

“We should get ready and go, it’s getting stuffy in here…” Winter commented, closing her English book. 

“Just a moment!” Zoe said excitedly, scribbling down in her own notebook now.

You had started gathering your things when both Zoe and Madison looked behind you, looking a mix of concern and amusement. You glanced behind you to see Jason Dean, smiling down at you. His dark hair covered his eyes, and he pushed it back.

You had no idea what to say. The last conversation you had with Jason was probably in fifth grade when he commented that women were weak while helping you carry boxes of school supplies, and you accidentally dropped a massive box of markers on his foot. He cried for an hour. 

“y/n,” he addressed you. You glanced at your friends who were eagerly watching you with their faces hidden behind their textbooks. Winter’s was upside down.

“Hi, Jason,” you responded, hearing the confusion in your voice. You listened to his friends giggling behind you, and you wondered if this was a joke. 

“I haven’t seen you in a minute,” he said cheekily, and you nodded. “You look good.”

You quickly looked him up and down. Jason was muscular but not bulky, and he was definitely a whole foot taller than you. He grew into his facial features, and he was a handsome guy. You assumed he was just talking to you on a dare, so you finished putting your things in your bag. Zoe and Winter didn’t budge, still pretending to read their books.

Jason realized you were dumbfounded at his statement. He quickly backtracked, “I just wanted to say hi. I’ll see you around.”

You bid him farewell, turning to your friends who were having a hard time concealing their laughter. You heard Jason’s best friend, Matthew, call him an idiot and what sounded like a smack on the back.

“y/n, you have a boyfriend?” Zoe asked, smirking at you.

You glared, standing up as they shouldered their bags and grabbed their books. “You know perfectly well I don’t speak to him.”

“I bet he wants to ask you to the dance.” Winter grinned at Zoe, who nodded in agreement as you stepped into the cold autumn air. 

“I’m not going either way.” you mumbled, and the girls dropped it until the next morning. 

2.

You didn’t think it was that big of a deal that the Quarterback tried to talk to you at the diner a few nights before. All the students who were present spread gossip like wildfire. You ignored it. You knew they were just children speculating what it could mean when it probably meant nothing. 

Zoe and Winter never brought it up again, and you were relieved that your friends didn’t dwell on it for too long. You loved that about them. 

It was after lunchtime when you sat in your History course, going over the notes for the test. You heard Jason and a few of his friends pile in, laughing and making comments under their breath. They took their designated seats in the back, and you felt eyes on the back of your head. 

A group of popular girls across the room started to giggle, and you glanced up to see Dandy walk in, his nose up and sauntering to the seat directly behind you. You wondered why he didn’t acknowledge you, but you didn’t dwell on it long. Dandy was often absent from any social interaction. 

Your teacher began the class the moment the bell rang. She decided to go over the notes an extra day and postponed the test. You were mildly disappointed but knew the material well, so you decided to doodle in your journal. One of the girls in the front occasionally popped her gum. 

Ms. Strode was talking about World War II when you felt something hit your elbow. You glanced over and saw a balled-up piece of paper. You glanced around to see most people were either frantically jotting down notes or not paying any attention. You picked it up, assuming it just needed to be passed ahead.

However, you read your name in neat cursive and opened it under the table.

Would you go to the dance with me? - Jason

You read the short invitation a good ten or so times before you could comprehend what he was asking. While the teacher wasn’t looking, you peeked over your shoulder to see him staring at you. His buddies were hiding their own smiles, but you didn’t see any malice behind it. Was he serious?

Of course, you’d have to decline. You already have an engagement. You promised your mother. You already declined the evening with your two best friends.

You didn’t send a note back, knowing it would be too distracting trying to pass it. Dandy would never try to give a stupid message.

However, Dandy had been paying attention and had managed to read the note over your shoulder when you laid it on your pencil case. He became green with envy, closing the book he hadn’t been paying attention too in the first place.

You hardly spoke a word to him this year. He wondered why that was. Dandy was very particular who he said too, and gave any sliver of his precious time. You were a comfort to him and probably didn’t realize that. Dandy knew he couldn’t seem desperate for your affection, or at the very least, your attention. He had hoped you’d be waiting for him in his car after school like the previous years before. Did he do something to upset you? Were you too good for him?

Dandy spent the rest of the class staring at the back of your head. He knew that wasn’t the case. Perhaps it was his behavior that steered you away. Of course, he liked being friends with you, but maybe it wasn’t enough. He was a loner who enjoyed his alone time. Dandy heard what people said about him. The general consensus was that he was doing everything right. 

When the class was dismissed, he hung back, watching as you quickly gathered your things and paced out the door. 

“Tough blow, man!” he heard Matthew say.

“She’ll come around.” Jason replied, his tone snarky. Dandy watched as they walked out of the room, his brows furrowing as he debated on taking the high road and asking you to the stupid dance himself. He wouldn’t go willingly. His mother, Gloria, needed him to be involved as much as possible. To keep up appearances, of course. Not for Dandy’s own goodwill. 

Dandy trailed out of the class, seeing you across the hall at your locker. Winter was beside you, somehow talking and applying lipstick at the same time. He stood off to the side, not minding all the bodies bumping into him and temporarily panicking that he’d yell at them.

This is it, Dandy thought. It’s a war, whether Jason Dean knew that or not. 

3.

Jason approached you the following day and asked if you’d mind talking to him at lunch. You hesitantly agreed, catching Zoe’s eye as she hugged Kyle before going into her class. She smiled at you, and you gave her a hesitant one in return. 

He definitely matured through the years. Jason was interested in you, and you felt comfortable talking to him through the entire lunch period, even catching yourself laughing at his sense of humor. Dandy played with the apple in his hands, glaring daggers at the back of Jason’s messy head. Winter noticed from her spot at your usual table and nudged Zoe, gesturing for her to look. 

“He looks pissed.” Zoe giggled, and Winter nodded in agreement. 

“I think Mott is going to kill him!” Winter said, stabbing at her steamed broccoli.

“Shouldn’t we let y/n know?” Zoe asked.

“I think she’s about to figure it out.” Winter said as Dandy stood up, heading directly to the table where you were sitting with Jason. Zoe and Winter fell into a hush, shoving food into their mouth and intently watching what was about to unfold. 

Jason saw him approaching first and paused, sizing the other guy up and down. Jason was bigger than Dandy in height and muscle tone from being an athlete, but Dandy wasn’t lanky either. You turned around, shocked to find Dandy staring down at you. 

“y/n,” Dandy nodded at you, ignoring Jason.

“Dandy, hi!” you said, genuinely happy to see him. “How are you?”

“I’m decent.” he said, smiling a little. “Could I have a word?” 

You glanced at Jason, who seemed timid, but he nodded. You stood up, promising Jason you’d be back as you followed Dandy out to the hallway. Multiple eyes followed you, and you heard the whispers starting as the door swung shut. 

“How are you?” Dandy asked now, looking down at you. His dark hair was neatly gelled and had a slight curl. 

“I’ve been good. I haven’t heard from you in a while…” you said.

Dandy nodded, “I could say the same. I assumed you’d come back around soon enough.”

You felt he was hurt by your absence. Dandy looked bothered, and you felt terrible. However, he was capable of approaching you as well. Which is what he thought he had to do. 

“Is everything okay?” you questioned, hoping his mother was doing well. You hadn’t seen her all Summer. 

“y/n, you know you’re one of the only people I care about in this stupid town,” Dandy said, glancing towards a teacher walking to the lounge. He gave you guys a questioning look but didn’t comment, disappearing into the next room. 

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so Dandy continued, “Which is why I think you shouldn’t go to the formal with Jason.”

You frowned, “How do you know he asked me?”

“The whole school knows!” Dandy retorted, and you remembered. “I think it’s a bad idea.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not going either way.”

Dandy looked surprised, and you saw the relief in his eyes. He laughed a little, his fingers drumming against his leg. “Oh.”

“What, are you jealous?” you asked, laughing at him. Dandy tried to hide his laughter, but it didn’t work. The quiet hallway was filled with your giggles.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” Dandy said, and you were saddened to hear the bell ring. Dandy straightened up, the smile leaving his face as kids filed out of the cafeteria and the surrounding classrooms. Kids stared at you and whispered, many laughing and wondering if you were now a couple. 

Jason slowly walked in your direction, but you didn’t want to say goodbye to Dandy. You were ashamed that you had avoided him for so long. You missed him. Dandy glanced behind you, his eyes sharpening as your new suitor waited patiently, his hands in his beige jacket. 

“Be careful around him.” Dandy whispered to you before he disappeared down the hall.

You approached Jason, who gave you a soft smile, “Am I missing something? Are you two together?”

You shook your head, a light smile on your lips, “No. We’re just friends.”

“Oh…” Jason nodded, “Look, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I freaked you out the other day. We don’t have to go to the dance together, but-.”

“Oh!” you gasped. Jason frowned, giving you a quizzical look. “The dance… I forgot,” you lied. “Uhm, I’m actually not going. I have other plans…” you said.

Jason looked defeated but took the rejection gracefully. You promised you’d sit with him again tomorrow, and he visibly cheered up at that. You ended up having to sprint to your locker for your books after saying goodbye, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Dandy’s warning. 

“Be careful around him.”

The Friday before the dance went to complete shit.

That morning you ate your breakfast slowly, listening to your parents argue in the kitchen over a business deal your mother thought was a bad idea. Your father was greedy and looked towards the top dollar than what was best for the business and the family. 

If that wasn’t bad enough, Winter fell sick and couldn’t go to school. You had to wait for your father to finish getting ready before he could drive you. You were ten minutes late and got a verbal warning; you never got in trouble at school. You had three tests in a row, and by lunch, you were about to rip your hair out.

Jason was nowhere to be found, so you sat with Zoe. She was worried that Winter would miss the dance but was happy that she’d at least have Kyle if Winter canceled. Kyle came and sat with you guys, his shaggy blond hair wet from the downpour outside. 

You were anxiously looking around the cafeteria for any sign of Dandy. He had missed a few days of school, citing a fever when you called his house and spoke to his maid, Dora. You wished him well and knew he’d pull through fast. Plus, you saw his car this morning when you got dropped off. 

“They’re going to cancel the dance if more kids fall ill,” Kyle said as he ate a burger. Zoe glared at him, telling him to look on the bright side of things. 

“What? I am!” Kyle replied, smirking at his new girlfriend.

“I’m sure they won’t cancel.” you placated Zoe, who beamed at you. “All the parents who gave money will be pissed.”

You ate most of your lunch when the principal walked in. The room immediately quieted as he observed the tables before landing on you. He walked to you briskly, and you felt your heart racing as he approached. 

Am I getting detention? I’ve only been late once!

“Ms. y/l/n, could you come with me?” he asked politely, smiling at you, Zoe, and Kyle.

You nodded slowly, bunching up your trash and placing it on the tray. Zoe told you to leave it, and they’d take care of it. You quietly thanked her and followed Principal Harmon out, struggling to keep pace with his long, thin legs.

“Is everything alright, sir?” you asked. Now wondering if your parents died in some fiery crash or if you failed a class. 

“There’s been a disturbance outside this afternoon,” Harmon replied, his voice grim. “With Mr. Mott and Mr. Dean.”

You were shocked to hear this. You were silent during the rest of the trek to his office. When he opened the door, you saw both boys sitting in chairs. They both had packs of ice on their faces and sheepish expressions.

“What were you thinking?” you hissed to them as Mr. Harmon gestured for you to take the empty seat next to Dandy.

“Well, now that y/n is here, I think you both owe her an explanation and an apology.” 

Jason and Dandy shared a look. Dandy now looked pissed, and you could only imagine what lead to this. 

Oh, I have a pretty good fucking idea.

[venusandromedadjarin]

A Free Afternoon

Ch. 5, Mi Cielo

18+, smut (FINALLY), oral!fem receiving, smoking, canon timeline, 2.2k words

When Javi finally pulls away from you, you’re both breathless and your eyes dance across his face. After months of not seeing his brown eyes, his smile, the strong bridge of his nose and the way his brow furrows, you can’t help but gaze at him now as he grasps your hips. He gazes back at you, his fingers digging into your jeans and holding you in place, almost like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. 

The phone rings sharply, and you both jump before he chuckles and reaches over the bar to grab it from the wall. You let your hands roam over his chest, biting your lip at the way he pauses before answering, trying to keep his cool. His eyes darken when your hands fall to his jean clad thighs, “Hello?” Javi nods once, sighing and then, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get her and we’ll be in shortly.” You break away from him, clearing the plates and mugs. As you wash the dishes in the sink, he hangs the phone up and retreats to his room to finish getting ready. You’re finishing up when he comes back and wraps a strong arm around your waist, pulling your hair back to give him access to your neck, where he presses kisses to the skin. You lean into him as he whispers against the skin behind your ear, “I promise we’re going to talk about this more later, but duty calls.” You nod as he steps back, turning around to grab his gun and keys off of the counter. 

Grabbing your purse, you follow him out the door. He reaches back to grab your hand as you walk to the jeep, a smile playing on his lips. The radio blares, making the drive feel shorter, but your nerves get the best of you when he pulls up in front of headquarters. “Hey, it’ll be fine. We’ll be in and out, and the Ambassador isn’t as bad as everyone makes her seem,” Javi kisses the back of your hand before opening his door. 

Inside is hectic, everyone bustles about their business and only a few men look up at you, mumbling or looking you over as you pass them. Javi leads the way, and you follow behind him, confidently walking through the hallways. His shoulders tense underneath his green jacket as he spots in Steve in one of the offices and beelines across the room. You step around him when he stops in the doorway and take in the evidence board with all the pictures. Steve looks over at you both, “Welcome to the Medllín cartel.” He bites his burrito as Javi tucks his glasses away and moves towards the pictures, grabbing a marker from Steve’s pocket. You watch with your arms crossed as Javi crosses out faces before tucking it back into your partner’s shirt. 

After sitting at your desks for a few hours, the three of you shuffling through paperwork and filling out reports on the events of yesterday, you stand up to your full height. Stretching your arms over your head, you sigh and catch Javi watching you, a cigarette forgotten and dangling between his fingers. Steve throws a pen at him and he grunts, shaking his head. Ignoring them both, you walk over to the break room to grab another shitty cup of coffee. You’re banging around in the cabinets, trying to find sugar, when Javi walks in. 

“Here, hermosa,” he hands you a sugar packet and leans against the counter, watching as you stir it into the cup. He winks, “I keep them in my desk if you need them.” You chuckle before taking a sip, grimacing at how bitter it still tastes. 

“We just need better fucking coffee,” you say as he gestures for you to follow him to the ambassador’s office. Outside, he knocks before opening the door for you. Ambassador Noonan greets you both and asks you to sit as Javi stands near the back wall.

“How did the first assignment go, Agent Lucio?”

You shrug, “It went by without any problems. Thanks to Agent Peña’s informant, we were able to get pictures of the cartel. Agent Murphy is organizing the evidence board as we speak.”

She nods at you before standing up, gesturing towards Javi, “I just wanted to let you both know that I expect there won’t be any problems between the two of you.” You hear him cough but you don’t break eye contact with your boss.

“There won’t be.”

“Whatever you two do outside of this building, I don’t care. But let me make it clear: don’t bring your shit inside here and don’t let Texas happen again. Now get out, you’re annoying me,” she smiles, softening the blow and you nod again before grabbing your purse and exiting the room with Javi on your heels. 

“I like her,” you look up at Javi and smile. He scoffs, rubbing a hand over his face before checking the time on the clock on the wall. 

“Whatever, let’s go get food. The rest of the day is ours, since we worked all night. Let’s find Murphy.” 

Back in the office, you slap Steve’s shoulder, ignoring the other guys staring at you. The fact that you can feel their eyes on your ass makes you grimace, and you catch Javi’s eye long enough to tell he’s annoyed. “Come on gringo, we can pick up Connie and go to lunch.” He doesn’t hesitate before standing, throwing down the papers and grabbing his jacket. Steve dials the comuna on his desk phone and asks for Connie before telling her they’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Opening his desk drawer, he grabs his gun before tucking it in his waistband, “Your jeep or mine, Peña?” Javi jingles his keys as the three of you leave the office, ignoring Wisnicki’s sarcastic comments. 

The air is thick in the midday heat as Javi drives toward the comuna, Latin rock blasting through the stereo. The silence is comfortable, all three of you smoking and trying to relax as the jeep maneuvers through Bogota. Connie waves from outside the building, leaning through Steve’s open window to kiss him before hopping into the vehicle, “How was the assignment?” She turns towards you in the back, eyes wide with inquiry. 

“It went well. Just a late night honestly. We figured we could all get lunch since we have the rest of the day off,” you offer her a smile, which she returns. “Maybe we could do some unpacking tonight or tomorrow night.”

Connie bids you goodbye once the four of you get back to the apartments as she and Steve head upstairs. She’s bright eyed and happy to have her husband home for the afternoon, but the three of you drag underneath the exhaustion. On the landing, you look at Javi as he finishes his cigarette, silently asking him what the plan is. He looks over at you, his brown eyes darkening as he takes in the way your own eyes gleam when you look at him. “Javi,” you start but he cuts you off.

“Do you want to come over?” You nod and he throws his cigarette on the ground before stomping it out. His smile makes your knees weak, which you mentally kick yourself for since you both need to talk through this. But the kiss this morning solidified what you already knew, neither of you wanted to miss this chance. He unlocks his door, swinging it open and turning on the hallway light. Closing it behind you, you kick off your boots and set your purse down on the table. 

“Hey,” he’s in the kitchen, emptying his pockets when you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, “I hate to ask but are you clean?” He chuckles and you feel the rumble underneath your cheek as it rests against his back.

“I got tested last week hermosa, so did Helena. I am, are you?” He turns around in your arms and looks down at the way you glare at him.

“Yeah, I tested right before I left Texas,” you mumble and he laughs again before flipping so that you’re pressed against the counter and he’s caging you in. 

He nuzzles his nose against your neck before kissing it and whispering, “I know that we need to figure things out, but I can’t help but thinking about taking you on this counter.” At the sound of your breath hitching, he reaches down to finger the hem of your shirt, waiting for your permission. 

“Javier… don’t be a tease.”

Without wasting another second, he unbuttons your shirt and leans down to kiss your chest, slowly trailing back up your neck, thankful for the fact your hair is pulled into a ponytail so he has full access. He reaches around you and swiftly lifts you onto the counter, the afternoon light streaming through the windows and making your skin glow. Roughly, he parts your legs so he can stand between them and grips the back of your head, pulling your lips towards his. You groan when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip before parting them and granting him access, your tongues dancing together. His other hand comes up to rub at your breasts, pulling your bra down and pinching at each of your nipples before pushing your shirt the rest of the way off. He breaks away to take his jacket and shirt off as you unclasp your bra, your lips swollen as you smile up at him. “Hermosa…” he trails off as reach for his belt buckle and begin to undo it. “Wait.” You stop at his command, looking up at him through hooded eyes. Before you can ask for clarification, he reaches out to unbutton your pants and pulls you to the edge of the counter, “Take them off.” He watches as you obey, struggling for a moment to balance on the granite and peel the jeans down your legs. His cock twitches when he sees you aren’t wearing underwear, much like himself, and he hisses as the zipper of his pants creates friction against his erection. 

“Javier-“ but before you can finish, he’s kissing you again, trailing one hand up your inner thighs. He pauses and you squirm beneath him before he trails a finger through your folds.

“Already wet for me, hermosa?” You whimper as he slowly sinks his finger into you, curling it against the sensitive part of you once he’s inside. As soon as he does it, he removes his finger and kneels in front of you, pulling you even closer to the edge of the countertop. You lean back onto your elbows, your head dropping back onto the bar as soon as his hot breath hits your clit. His tongue slowly slides up you before circling your clit and you buck at the sensation. He throws an arm over your hips, his forearm holding you in place. As he sinks his finger back into you, he sucks on your clit and you whimper. Adding a second, and then a third, your moans echoed through the kitchen. You’re close, and you reach out to tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to keep him going but he stops as your legs tremble. You groan at the break in intimacy and he kisses you again, pulling you into his arms and carrying you into his bedroom. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he says as he lays you down on the bed before removing his jeans.

You watch as his cock springs out, a bead of precum already on the tip. As annoyed that you are that he brought you to the edge and then denied you, you throb at the thought of him being inside of you. “Javier, I need you.” You grimace at the pleading in your voice, but his lips are back on yours in a minute and he teases his tip against your clit, making the heat in your core surge again. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth again and bites gently as he pounds into you, your cries making his cock twitch as your walls flutter around him. 

“Come here hermosa,” he leans back onto his heels and pulls you up so that you're straddling his lap as he pounds into you, his strong arm holding your back so your chest is against his as his other hand tangles into your hair. “Cum for me,” he commands and you fall apart, moaning against his lips as he tries to swallow your cries. He doesn’t let up on his pace, rocking into you before putting you back on the bed, “Turn over.” He slips out from inside you and helps you turn before pulling your hips up and slamming back into you. You cry out again, oversensitive from the orgasm you just had as you clutch at the sheets. “Fuck, baby.” Your walls clench around him again and he reaches down to rub your clit while simultaneously pulling your hair so your back arches as his hips stutter against yours, both of you coming and making incoherent noises in the euphoric pleasure. 

Series Taglist: @freeshavacadooooo​

[kerwritesthings]

Dance Your Way Into My Heart

Summary: It’s more than just that feeling of love, it’s the actions, and the talk of forever

Word Count: just a little over 2.6k

Warnings: more soft, squishy, lovely words with a side of wedding fluff

Author Notes: So, this is my 10th ‘full-length’ one shot in this verse which boggles my mind since it’s ONLY been about a month (a day or two off actually – I first posted late the night of Jan 18!) since I started writing around this fool heart. I think he, and this place, the people and the creativity, really came to me when I’ve needed it the most. Sooo, now that the emotional nonsense has been blithered out. Here’s a little something for that…

Funny enough that this all hit me the Wednesday/Thursday before any of Josiah’s wedding stuff hit. Another pretty photo reblog from @rainbowshawn​ that set me on a spiral of ohhh shit I can see him singing at a super casual wedding like this and then the next thing you know I’ve busted out 500ish words on my Notes app on my phone while at a bar waiting for my friend before seeing Moulin Rouge on Broadway that night, total aside THE SHOW IS AMAZING – listen to the OBC album cause it’s bomb, however I digress. 

As always, these can be read as stand-alone one shots, but they all fall under the umbrella of this verse of mine. Reading the previous would provide some context. Masterlist can be found here!

As soon as she asks, Shawn immediately said yes. He's such a sucker for love and weddings and basically anything to make you happy. So, when your best friend asks you if you’d think he would be willing to sing at her wedding, you mention she would need to talk to him and ask. So, she flies up for a weekend under the onus of coming to hang out with you. However, she takes him to lunch one afternoon just the two of them, his favorite place downtown, nervous and anxious. However, you understood it was a shoe in. It was sweet though she wants to go the extra mile with him.

“You knew?” he asks, flopping down on the couch next to you, head immediately falling in your lap as soon as he gets back home. 

“Mmhmm,” you mutter, hands automatically winding through his hair. “Told her she needed to talk to you though. Maid of honor duties only go so far you know. What did you say?”

“Yes, duh. Of course, yes,” he replies, eyes fluttering shut as he relaxes into your touch. “Didi is your best friend, she’s the closest thing you have to a sister. Of course, I’m going to sing for her for her wedding. Plus, it’s going to be so super chill and laid back. I told her to give me a few things she and Tomas like and I’ll work around with that. I also told her I want first dance duty. No wedding band or DJ should have your bestie’s special moment.”

“You’re something else and I love you. Thank you, sweetheart. It means a lot to her. And even more to me,” you whisper, leaning down to dust a kiss to his forehead, another to his nose before reaching his lips.

Didi can’t stop raving, gushing and thanking you and him. The key smash texts are adorable and you both appreciate the lovely case of rosé champagne she sends over. Tomas, separately, takes him for a boys night at Maple Leafs game next time he’s in town as a personal show of thanks for helping his future wife. Shawn takes his role seriously, copious notes and hours locked away in his studio practicing or grumbling some days. It’s heartwarming to see how much care he took in this. “At some point, she’s practically going to be my sister-in-law, so yeah,” he blushes, after explaining the latest iteration of songs he’s going through. “Plus, it’s her wedding day. Needs to be epic and as perfect as possible. I’m going to make sure it’s that.”

He says it so nonchalant, so matter of fact, and without hesitation: At some point, she’s practically going to be my sister-in-law. It hits you square in the gut. You both know how deep your feelings run for each other, and you’ve had a few abstract talks, a few serious ones too, along with a more pointed talk specifically about the future. But you’ve never heard him speak of it with such assured conviction. Like it’s happening soon. You just look at him, jaw slightly dropped and eyes wide. 

“You’re gonna catch flies like that my dear,” he smirks, tapping his pointer finger up under your chin to close your mouth. Before you can reply, he leans in to kiss you sweetly, slowly and thoroughly. 

“You know you’re my forever,” he sighs against your lips, just a hair away from yours. He presses a soft, quick peck to both corners of your mouth before one squarely against you. “I’ve thought about it a lot more lately. Since Santa Barbara and our breakfast by the pool, really. Of us doing this ourselves and what our wedding would be. I know the new album and the tour, and all that shit is a thing happening, but I also know you mean everything so…”

You don’t know what to say, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You just look at him, hand coming up to cup his cheek. 

“This is not going there now, because this would be a lame as fuck as a story to tell on how I proposed to you, but just know. I’m thinking about it. Really and truly,” he reveals through a bright smile. “I love you, so, so much baby.”

You can’t help but shift your arms around him, face nuzzling into the side of his neck. This boy of yours. He’s something extraordinary. 

At the rehearsal dinner, you spy him and Didi in deep conversation before you’re all due to sit down for dessert. 

“He won’t tell me what they decided on, Didi either,” you explain to Didi’s sister Renee, as you head towards your table. “They’re being sneaky little shits, but you know Dee.”

Renee laughs, “Are you really surprised? After you’ve been friends for this long? It’s sweet of your man to be willing to do all this for them. I’ve already warned all cousins and the brothers’ idiot dates they are not to fawn over him, that he’s beyond happily taken by the maid of honor, and that if I see cell phones obnoxiously in the way at any point this weekend, I’m breaking them in some way.”

You hear his laugh before you feel his arm wrap about your waist. “This is why Renee is the best. She won’t take anyone’s shit. Even from her own family. Thanks girl. Appreciate you having my back,” he smiles, fist bumping Renee. “I owe you one.”

“Holding you to that, Mendes,” she grins widely. “Just make sure this one doesn’t lose her shit this weekend taking care of my sister. But I will gladly use that marker, especially next time your hot friends are around. Speaking of, I should go check on my parents, make sure my brothers haven’t done anything stupid.”

“Is Didi driving you batty?” he asks, guiding you into your chair. “She seems okay tonight.”

“Crowd around, her parents, Tomas’ family, she’s holding her own but there was some stupid family shit earlier,” you exhale, grabbing a hold of his hand to lace through yours, before tipping your head against his shoulder. “It’s nothing that I didn’t expect to deal with this weekend. She’s nervous, worried, second and fifth guessing things. I get it, this is a lot. She just wants to be married already.”

Shawn dusts a kiss to your temple, “You’re such a good friend. You’re lucky to have each other. Tomorrow’s going to be great. Worse case, steal my flask and get her a little saucy before she walks down the aisle.”

You elbow him with a giggle, “You would suggest that, but you may be onto something. Thank you though.”

The next morning is a whirlwind of champagne, bobby pins and lip gloss with a soundtrack full of laughter and a lot of fighting back tears. You also may have sung along to your boyfriend’s last album, dancing around like you would do in her room when you were kids to your favorite songs. Didi’s suite is a buzz with her sister holding down the fort, cousins popping in and out, along with her mother and her future mother-in-law. At one point, after the glam team is gone, you finally have a moment alone with your best friend while her mom and sister go to grab her dress.

“I am so happy you’re deliriously happy,” you whisper, hugging Didi tightly before more folks come in. “You two are good together and I’m glad you found him.”

Didi sniffs, “Thank you, I know I’ve been insane, and you’ve been a saint. Your boyfriend too. Shawn has put up with me changing my mind on stuff like 17 times and he’s just rolled with it. You’re a lucky one too. He’s so fucking over the moon for you girly. Soon roles will be reversed, and you’ll be able to pay me back with your own crazy.”

You both scurry about to get into your dresses. With the wedding taking place at the botanical gardens, Didi decided she didn’t want fussy for anything around the ceremony. Her dress is a stunning V-neck sheath of flowy creamy, buttery chiffon, tiny flowers woven through her hair in place of a veil. Tomas’ grandmother’s necklace, a vintage diamond and pearl strand, lays just at her collarbones. You try not to cry but think back of the two little five-year-old girls who would play wedding in your grandparents’ back yard. “Oh Dee,” you sniff. “Tomas isn’t going to know what hit him.”

She smiles, her eyes just as wet, and reaches for your hands. “I couldn’t be up there without you, bestie.” You hear the flicker of a camera, knowing the photographer is back catching your moment and you’re grateful. “Your boy either. I know you hemmed and hawed about black for a wedding, but this dress is great.”

You’re the only one standing up with her, she didn’t want anyone up there with her other than you. Renee understood and was happy she didn’t have to wrangle a groomsman. She picked a black maxi, swirled with larger flowers in shades of pink and white. Your hair was up, a flower like the ones in your dress tucked in the mass of curls her stylist pinned about. Your bouquet is in a similar palate, while Didi’s has some purple, her favorite color, woven through. 

“Let’s go get you married,” you say handing off her bouquet and tucking her arm under yours. 

“Hey pretty girl, funny seeing you here,” he quips, his lips dusting against your bare shoulder, before tracing a finger across your back. You’re all outside the courtyard waiting to enter for the start of the ceremony. You turn to face him. He’s a vision, because of course he is when isn’t he, in black floral-patterned button down, similar to your dress, along with dark pants. What’s more interesting is that his beloved acoustic strung across his chest.

“I may have told Didi I would play all her walk-in music too,” he nods bashfully. “I wasn’t going to let them use Apple Music or Spotify or even worse some awful wedding singer.”

“You are something else, Shawn,” you reply, squeezing his hand tightly. “Really want to kiss you but I can’t mess up the gloss.”

He places a whisper of a kiss on your forehead, “Love you. I need to go get into place. Atmosphere music. Think I may sneak in one of my own in there before the processional stuff.”

You laugh, pushing him towards the archway of greenery, “Go be wonderful.”

He’s set up at the back of the courtyard, seats all set in front of him. He’s weaving melodies, no singing, just soft rhythms from his guitar. The space is perfect, green and lush and smelling lovely, a swath of flowers at the end of the path where Tomas waits. You make your way down and turn to watch for your best friend. However, before she arrives you take a moment to appreciate Shawn. He catches your eye, smiles and winks, mouthing love you before he sees the wedding coordinator waiving over at him. 

He starts in on “Marry Me” when Didi arrives at the back of the aisle with her Dad. Your breath catches in your throat, the combination of seeing your best friend and hearing your boyfriend hits you hard. She starts making her way down when he begins on the chorus. You see Tomas out of the corner of your eye, and he’s got a hand over his mouth, eyes brimming over with tears. The ceremony is the perfect balance of exactly what Didi and Tomas are. Their vows are intrinsically them. They look every way that a couple getting married should. Glowing, in love and only eyes for each other. It’s hard not to let a tear or two out. 

The reception is in the atrium of the gardens, under a massive domed stained-glass skylight, still lush with flowers and greens. Everything has been exactly as Didi has hoped. Meanwhile, your boyfriend is mysteriously missing. You’re sipping champagne with Renee and her boyfriend of the moment, while looking about for him. 

“Last I saw him he was setting his guitar up before the rest of the musicians came in, don’t worry,” Renee starts, clinking glasses with you. “He’ll be back.”

He makes his way back into the atrium, and surprisingly he’s changed, a little dressier now in deliciously fitting black suit pants and a white button down, the glint of his silver chain obvious even from where you are. You excuse yourself from the group and steal Shawn away before he needs to soundcheck for their dance. You just want to have a moment with him before everything gets crazy, heading out to the patio just off the atrium, which is blissfully quiet. You wrap your arms around his waist and just hold him. 

“You okay baby?” he asks, as he starts to sway with you, shifting your arms around his neck so he can pull you closer. 

You nod, smiling, “I just needed you for a minute without all that is all.”

“You can have all the minutes you ever want or need,” he says, kissing you lightly. 

“Sorry to break this up, please believe me I am, but my sister has decided she wants to get a move on,” Renee calls from the doorway. 

“Duty calls for both of us,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss him once more. “Save me a dance or two?”

“All the slow ones at least,” he agrees, rubbing his nose against yours. “I’ll see you out there.”

Didi didn’t want a whole production with entrances, she wanted a few bars of song then for her and Tomas to start dancing straightaway. So, poised at the edge of what they have set up as the dance floor, with a good angle to see them once they walk in, as well as your boyfriend, you wait. Shawn starts playing, something floaty that that doesn’t sound familiar to you. The pair make their way in and as soon as they hit the center of the floor, he begins. 

“Not talkin' 'bout a year, no not three or four. I don't want that kind of forever in my life anymore,” he sings gently. “Forever always seems to be around when it begins, but forever never seems to be around when it ends. So, give me your forever, please your forever. Not a day less will do, from you.”

The song is beautiful, he sounds amazing, Didi and Tomas as just love personified as they dance. He fades out slowly at the end, a light strum to close out. 

“Thank you for letting me be such a special part of your day. That was Ben Harper’s Forever. Didi, Tomas, congratulations and love to you both,” he expresses, blowing a kiss to the two of them with his hands, you can see his emotions clear across his face. He heads back, as the band starts up, packing away his guitar before making his way over to you, now at your table.

“Wow,” you sigh, hand coming to the nape of his neck to sink into his curls. “That was something else, my dear. Didi fucking owes you.”

He blushes, ducking his head bashfully. “I’m just happy I could give them that moment. First dances are something really special. They deserved to have the best moment possible. Plus, that’s an awesome first dance song, not the usual. Makes it even better.”

“My hopeless romantic,” you muse, tracing haphazard patterns over the top of his hand that rests on your knee. 

“Just you wait,” he smiles, kissing you. “Now, I’m on good authority the next song is a slow one, so may I have this dance?”

He stands, holding his hand out for you. 

“You can have every single one, all of them from now on.”

TAG LIST: @whenidance​, @parkerdavis​, @sinplisticshawn​, @hollandraul​, @fallinallincurls​, @itrocksmysocks​, @rainbowshawn​, @lasingphomustra​, @illumecherry​

*Always feel free to ask to be added to the tag list! 

[twinkleomorashi]

Day 2 Desk Wetting

Day 2 Desk Wetting ( Junior Year Preston) 

AN: Yeah big shock, Preston again. It is technically day 2 after all so I managed to get this done just 4 minutes too late lol.

All characters in sexual scenarios are 18 or older. Read my “refz” tag. Preston is 18 in her junior year, the only reason this doesn’t take place when she’s 19 and a senior is because in the greater universe of my fics it wouldn’t make any sense. I care too much about the pissfic universe canon, soz about it. Contains female omorashi. Not your cup of pee? Don’t read!

Not My Fault

Teachers need to chill the fuck out. Listen, I get it that seniors are all little shits who just wanna get out of school already and I wouldn’t wanna deal with us either, but if you’re getting paid to do it there’s no need to be such a massive bitch all the time. Apparently it’s not their fault though. No, apparently it’s my fault. My fault that my idiot friend Josh dared me to chug four bottles of gatorade back to back without hurling. I mean, yeah I didn’t have to do it, but then I wouldn’t have gotten $20. Fine, I can see how that’s kinda my fault. But my third period teacher didn’t have to assign a test today and she didn’t have to make a rule saying that nobody was allowed to leave the room during it. And my fourth period teacher really didn’t have to have such a harsh tardy policy which forces me to sprint to her class everyday or risk detention. 

What I’m saying is, it’s really not my fault that I have to piss this badly right now.

I scribble down the homework assignments I probably won’t do in my planner I never used. The writing is more messy than usual, I have to go so bad my hands are shaking. I finish writing and slam the planner shut before trying to casually walk up to her desk.

“Ms. Perez? May I please use the restroom?” I ask in my nicest voice. 

“No, you’ve already used your bathroom pass for the semester, remember? September 2nd?” she asks.

It was December 14th, of course I don’t remember that. Oh wait.. That’s the day I ditched class in favor of Taco Bell. Fuck, I’ve screwed myself over. I’ve screwed myself over so bad. No way would I be able to last another hour and twenty minutes like this, I can literally feel my bladder pressing up against the waistband of my jeans and I’m already bouncing my legs and squirming in my seat like an idiot.

She shrugs me off and starts to lecture. And lecture. And lecture. She’s lecturing for years. Centuries. I know it’s history class and all, but does it really have to be taught in real time? The scenario is so cliche I’m shocked I haven’t been in it sooner. I have to pee fucking so bad, holy fuck. I jam my hands between my legs and cross them out of sheer desperation to not risk accidentally letting any out, it helps.  I feel a pencil tap my left shoulder. 

“What?” I irritatedly whisper at the tapper, my friend Andrew. 

“Does wittle Pweston have to go to the potty?” he chides. 

“ Leave me alone, dicksack.”

Fuck, if a dumbass like him noticed I’m definitely being too obvious about it. I’m conflicted, do I sacrifice my pride or my (relative) comfort? I slide my hand out from between my legs and hold my legs still. Nope, nope nope nope. It feels like I’m seconds away from pissing myself when I act natural. I check the time. How the hell do we still have an hour left?!

“Ms Perez?”, I beckon, “May I please use the restroom?” 

Some kids snicker, probably noticing that I’m drenched in sweat and trembling like a cold chihuahua.

“Is it an emergency?” she asks.

I swallow my pride for the sake of my pants. 

“Yes.” 

“You should’ve thought of that on September 2nd.” 

The class laughs again. It takes all of my strength not to lose my shit over that. That was over three months ago, how the fucking hell was I supposed to know that I would be on the verge of pissing myself in the middle of her class in a few months? And this bitch has the nerve to keep on lecturing. I have to piss too badly to pay attention, much less write notes. Andrew taps me again.

“What now? More words of wisdom?” 

“She usually gives in at this point. Guess she just hates you.” he shrugs.

“Andrew, if I piss myself I am placing 23% of the blame on you.”

His eyes widen.

“You have to go that bad, huh?” he chuckles as I rock back and forth in my seat with my hands still between my legs. 

I don’t see how he couldn’t have realized that yet. I feel tears prick into my eyes. I can’t tell if it’s because this hurts so much or if it’s because I can tell that I’m reaching the end of my rope at a quick and dreadful pace. Panicking is only making it worse. I need a plan. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I need a plan. Why can't I think of a plan? 

Then something horrifying happens. I leak. A ton. It surprises me so much that I whimper in surprise and take a sharp breath. A few kids turn their heads so I try my best to act natural to some extent. 

Once they lose interest I quickly inspect that crotch of my jeans. Fuck, it's noticeable. It's really noticeable, there’s a patch about the size of my palm and a couple drops of piss already on the desk chair. I start hardcore freaking out. I can't hold it much longer. Hell, I don't even know if this counts as “holding it”. The stain on my jeans is only gonna get bigger if I don't do anything about it. I shakily raise my hand for the second time in five minutes. 

“I said no, Preston.” she says, barely turning away from the board. 

I whimper again in frustration, more heads turn. Some kids whisper. Holy fuck, this is so embarrassing. I’m usually not so shy with this kind of stuff, but I literally know only one person in here and it’s fucking Andrew. If I was with my friends I could at least laugh it off.

“Miss, please.”, I beg, “I know you don't want me to miss anymore class, but I- I can't even focus right now!” I whine, my voice shaking. I'm willing to do just about anything to not piss myself right now. I can brush off any comments about this, but if I don’t make it I’m never gonna live it down. 

Ms. Perez slams the dry erase marker into the built in tray on the whiteboard and puts her hands on her hips. 

“Fine, but we're gonna use this as a learning opportunity. See, kids? This is why we don't skip class-”

Fuck fuck fuck! She's lecturing again. I leak once more, a small puddle starts to form on the chair. I panic and try to sit back further in it to try and cover it up. The feeling of wetness only causes another spurt to escape, somehow traveling up the seat of my jeans. I'm not gonna make it, there’s no way. This isn't happening. This can not fucking be happening. 

“Because leaving class at all detracts from your learning and then you use up passes that you're going to need later. And on that note, you really should be going before class.”

The leaks become longer and much more frequent. Even if she stops lecturing right this second everyone is gonna see that my jeans are soaked when I stand up and there’s no way I’m making it all the way to the bathroom, but if worst comes to worst at least I can hide somewhere and avoid making a scene over the inevitable. Another wave of desperation hits me and I can tell my time is running out fast. Hell, can I even move from this position? I slowly uncross my legs to test the waters. 

I let out a shaky gasp in surprise as the floodgates stop leaking and burst open entirely. My hand instinctively flies to my mouth as I freeze in shock and try really really hard not to make my heavy breathing obvious. Everybody in the room except for the teacher who's too wrapped up in her fucking lecturing can tell what's going on. A puddle forms on the desk chair and dribbles down to the scratchy classroom carpet. Loudly. To the point where I wonder how the hell she can't hear it. I cross my legs to try and quiet it in sheer mortification but now I can hear people whispering. This can't be happening, this can't be happening. 

“So you can't really come crawling back to me if you miss information, because you chose to leave class.”

There's no point in trying to hold back at this point, there's no going back or covering it up now. I put my head on my desk in defeat. Pissing after holding it for a long time is probably one of the greatest feelings in the world. Even if it is in your jeans during the middle of history class. Okay that was the grossest thing I've ever thought. Ignore that please. But I’m not wrong. But-

“So in short, be smart about your bathroom passes. Now hurry, Preston.” Ms. Perez nods. My face is burning with embarrassment as I nervously bite my tongue knowing I had no choice but to fess up before someone did it before me. 

“T-Too late.” I stutter through the tears pricking in my eyes. I feel like I'm gonna pass out. My face is so hot with embarrassment it feels on fire. 

Her face goes pale, almost sickly so. She stands still, unsure of what to say. All eyes are either on me or her.  I slowly stand up, covering my ass with my backpack and my crotch with my spiral which was nowhere near the right size for the task at hand. 

“So, uh, I’m gonna go now.” I blush, regretting my choice of words but leaving before any obvious jokes can be made. 

And I don't come back. I embarrassedly stormed outside the school, rummaging for my car keys and pressing the car unlock button for way longer than necessary before practically diving into the driver's seat. I start the car and let my head rest against the steering wheel as it turns on, still in park. I glance down at my jeans and can’t help but to find a little humor in it. If people give me shit for it there’s nothing I can do. This so obviously is not my fault.

[missmalice202]

Designing Your Melody: Chapter 18 - Vocals

Chapter 01 - Chapter 17

There were some situations that could only be put into perspective by venting to your best friend. Having a boy basically state his interest in you in a romantic capacity definitely qualified as one of those situations.

“Alya,” Marinette whined, looking at her best friend sitting on her couch. “What do I do?”

Ever since Luka’s confession two days ago, Marinette had been debating what her next move would be. She really really liked spending time with him, but she didn’t want to chance messing up the comfortable friendship they had developed.

“Girl, what do you want to do?” It was killing Alya to keep her mouth shut about Viperion’s true identity, but she agreed with Nino that this was something that their friend had to work out on her own. However, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t give her BFF a little nudge in the right direction. “What would you do if it were, say, Adrien confessing his love to you?”

She was appalled at that idea. “Adrien? Alya, you know I don’t like him like that anymore.” She shook her head in disgust. “No, even if Adrien were to tell me right now that he was in love with me and wanted to be with me, I’d tell him that we’d just have to stay friends”

“Okay, so it’s not the fact that someone likes you, it’s the fact that it’s Luka who likes you, correct?”

She stopped in her tracks and stared at her chestnut-haired friend. She hadn’t thought about it that way before. Maybe she wasn’t scared of being in a relationship, maybe she was scared of being in a relationship with Luka specifically. “Why does that scare me so much?” she asked anxiously.

“Girl, you’re scared because you’re already invested in your relationship with him.” She stood up and walked over to grab her friend’s hand, pulling her back to sit with her so she could focus on their conversation and not her pacing. “Even though you guys aren’t romantically involved yet and he said ‘no pressure’, you’re still worried that if you try to be with him and it doesn’t work out, it’ll destroy whatever it is you guys have now.”

“You’re right. It’s not worth it. I don’t want to lose him.”

Seeing the determination on her friend’s face, Alya realized that she needed to try a different tactic before Marinette sabotaged any sort of romantic involvement before it even began. “Let’s look at this from a different perspective. How would you react if it were Viperion saying that he wanted to be with you. Would you react any differently?”

She knew that she had to tread lightly. She didn’t want to reveal everything too soon. She was a little worried about using Marinette’s crush on her clanmate against her, but really, the girl was just so dense at times. Sometimes you just had to come right out and smack her across the face with something to make her acknowledge it.

“Viperion? What does he have anything to do with this?”

Alya growled, frustrated at her own decision to keep her mouth shut. “It’s a hypothetical question. Purely hypothetical. I asked, ‘what if’ to make you think about if you would behave differently.”

Marinette pondered that question for a few seconds. Would she react differently if it were Viperion? She did really like talking to their reptilian clanmate and she looked forward to playing with him whenever she got a chance to get online. Plus, he had an easygoing nature that made it really easy to open up to him. There were times that she wanted to ask him if they could meet up in real life, but she was comfortable with that degree of separation between them. Crossing that line would make him real, a flesh and blood person instead of a voice behind her screen.

If Viperion expressed an interest in meeting her and cultivating their friendship into something more, would she be so quick to shoot him down and play it safe?

“Honestly? I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know the real Viperion, only what he shares with me online. Just like he doesn’t know the real me. We only know what we tell each other.”

Alya chuckled softly. “That’s true of any relationship we have with another person. It’s up to you how much you share with the other person. Just because you don’t know what Viperion’s face looks like doesn’t mean you don’t know what his heart looks like.”

She looked at her friend in shock. “Wow, Alya. That was kinda deep.”

“What can I say?” she retorted with an exaggerated hair flip, “I have my moments.”

They both started giggling and the absurdity of Alya’s statement. After a few moments, Marinette took a deep breath and continued talking. “To be honest, I think if it were Viperion who had confessed his love to me, I think I would give him a shot.”

“Really? So what makes Viperion different than Luka?”

“I don’t know. I’m just so comfortable around Viperion. We can laugh and joke around and there’s no expectation there for anything else. When I’m with Luka, I can be myself around him, but there’s still that, I don’t know… pressure? I can’t really describe it.”

Deciding that she’s pushed her friend far enough for one day, Alya changed the subject. “So have you seen Luka since Saturday? Has he been stopping by the bakery like he used to?”

Marinette shook her head. “I think he’s giving me space. He invited me to see him perform next Saturday, though.”

“Oh my god, you have to go!” she shrieked. “Nino and I will go with you if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Would you?” she looked relieved. “I was going to ask Adrien if he wanted to come too. Get him out of his house for a night, ya know?”

Alya’s nose crinkled as she scowled at her friend. “Really? You think bringing Adrien to go see Luka play is really a good idea?”

Marinette’s brows furrowed in response. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be a good idea? He’s one of my best friends!”

She sighed at the naïve girl’s utter lack of awareness. “If you think it’s a good idea, then go ahead and invite him, girl. It’s your funeral.”

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

To Marinette, she thought of the evolution of her relationship with Adrien Agreste as a marker to indicate how much she had grown up and matured over the years. If someone had told her that she would be able to personally invite him out to join her – and their friends – to a club to watch a band perform without stuttering or making an absolute fool of herself, she would have called that person a liar. When they had been teenagers, there had been something about him that had made her brain short circuit in the most embarrassing of ways.

In a way, she was flabbergasted that the blond boy had never caught on to the way she had felt about him back then. In her mind, her obsession with him had been so painfully obvious to literally everyone except Adrien himself. Maybe he was just that oblivious. Or maybe he had been aware and was ignoring her affection for him in order to avoid a painfully awkward rejection.

It was something that she had wondered about many, many times over the years, but as her attraction for him had waned, she’d decided to just leave it alone and put it behind her.

Once she had moved on and made the conscious decision to be Adrien’s friend rather than just another fangirl, they had grown even closer than she had ever imagined. She was aware of the constant pressure he was placed under from his father and she had become a sort of safe haven for him to turn to when the stress of living up to his father’s expectations while pursuing his own dream became too much. If she were to be honest with herself, she was honored that she was the person he turned to when he just needed a break from reality.

However, recently she had begun to wonder if he had an ulterior motive for seeking out her company.

Over the past few months, she’d begun to notice that he’d been making more and more excuses to spend time with her, even if it meant squeezing in time between his university classes to drop into the bakery to snag a few pastries before returning to campus across the city. Surely there were other places much closer to his university where he could eat his lunch.

But Marinette never questioned him. She never brought up the lingering glances she caught him giving her. She never confronted him about the casual way he would invade her personal space, even if it was in a platonic way. She was hesitant to rattle the status quo they had been living in for so long, especially if her intuition was wrong. God, that would be embarrassing for him, as well as her.

A trickle of unease ran down her spine when she saw the way Adrien’s grin lit up his face when he noticed her approach in front of the club where Luka’s band would be performing that night. The sparkle in his eyes was something that she chose to ignore. After all, she was here at the invitation of another man.

‘Oh crap,’ she thought to herself. ‘Now I understand what Alya meant.’ She really hoped her utterly brilliant idea of inviting Adrien to watch Luka’s performance would not end up blowing up in her face.

As she and Adrien made small talk while waiting for the other half of their group to arrive, Marinette sent up a silent plea to whoever was listening that nothing bad happened tonight.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

Once inside the club – turns out it really does help expedite the process when a member of the band gives the bouncer your name in anticipation of your arrival – Marinette and her friends looked around for a good spot to watch the show from. Even though they had gotten there an hour before Luka was supposed to hit the stage, the club was packed.

As she looked around the crowded club, Marinette was impressed. She’d been here before with Alya a few times to unwind after a rough day and it had never been this busy. It was standing room only and the mass of bodies crowding in front of the stage was already nearly impenetrable. Apparently, the band Luka was playing with tonight was more popular than he had led her to believe.

Just when she and her friends had resigned themselves to watching the show from the back of the room, a ripple of movement through the crowd caught her attention. The volume of chatter rose over the pre-recorded music being pumped through the speakers, easily becoming audible over the pounding base that made it feel like her ribs were vibrating with the reverberation.

She strained her eyes in a futile attempt to see what had caused the commotion, but she was too short to see over the heads of so many people.

When Nino nudged her arm with his elbow, she glanced at him in question, but he was too busy waving to someone in the crowd. Just then, Luka himself broke through the sea of bodies and the rift he had opened with his passing closed behind him.

He grinned at the four of them and yelled over the music to be heard. “I’m glad you guys could make it! I wasn’t expecting it to be this crowded tonight.”

Marinette couldn’t help but notice the way that Adrien shifted on his feet to inch just a little closer to her. Luckily, Luka didn’t notice the subtle movement due to his attention being focused solely on her. Thankfully, Nino kept the conversation going as he made the necessary introductions, even though she was pretty sure that Luka had met Alya and Adrien before.

They decided to brave the bar in an attempt to get something to drink. Luka stuck to water since he would be playing later and he wanted to have a clear head for the show. The other four, however, ordered bottles of beer to wet their parched throats. The temperature in the club was already becoming oppressive simply from the heat of so many bodies pressed together in one place.

Marinette couldn’t prevent the way her cheeks flushed whenever Luka bent over to yell something into her ear. The music was loud enough to invite the intrusion into her personal space, but she was certain that the hand he placed on the small of her back was unnecessary. Welcome, but unnecessary.

While Luka and Marinette stood off to the side and attempted to carry on a conversation in the loud club, Nino and Alya were keeping a careful eye on how their other friend was reacting to the interaction. He wasn’t taking it very well if the way he was scowling as he quickly drained his bottle was any indication. They tried to get Adrien’s attention away from the couple talking next to the bar, but even as he half heartedly listened to them talk, his eyes never once strayed from their dark-haired companion. Or the hand pressing gently on her back.

Alya and Nino grew more concerned as Adrien ordered and three more bottles of beer and emptied them before Luka motioned to them for them to follow him. Adrien tipped his head back to drain his last bottle and slammed it on the bar before following their group.

Using the dense crowd as a flimsy and utterly transparent excuse, Luka grabbed Marinette’s hand and led her through the crowd to get closer to the stage. With her free hand, she grabbed Alya by the arm, who grabbed onto Nino with her own spare hand. Nino, in turn, snagged the last reluctant member of their party and weaved their way up to the front of the crowd.

When they were in the front, right in the middle of the stage, Luka leaned in one last time. “I’ve got to go finish setting up. We’ll be starting soon, but I wanted to make sure you had the best seat in the house for this.”

Marinette’s heart fluttered. He really was so sweet, sacrificing time he should have spent preparing for the concert to make sure that she was taken care of. She shooed him playfully and he gave her arm one last squeeze before making his way backstage.

They didn’t have to wait long before the house lights dimmed and the spotlights illuminated the stage. The roar of the crowd was deafening when Luka and he other members of the band stepped on stage.

If she thought he was cute under normal circumstances, the moment he stepped on stage, her jaw – and her IQ – dropped. He was wearing simple clothes, nothing fancy since he wasn’t a full-time member of the band and didn’t want to attract too much attention away from the main members: ripped jeans and a shredded black t-shirt with a pair of Converse sneakers on his feet. But the moment he pinned her with his eyes, Marinette’s brain ceased to function. He had heavily outlined his ocean-blue eyes with eyeliner and the way he looked at her did things to her insides that she didn’t want to acknowledge. He was freaking hot.

Marinette joined in and cheered for Luka; she hadn’t learned what the band was called, so she just screamed his name when the vocalist, a tall, slender girl with wild, jet-black hair introduced each member of the band.

The way he winked at her as he slung the strap of his guitar over his shoulder made her mouth go dry. Seriously, it should be illegal for someone to look that good holding a guitar.

From the moment the band started playing the first song, Marinette was mesmerized. Hearing Luka play at her parent’s bakery and in her room had shown her that he had talent, but seeing him on stage, playing with a full band, gave her a whole new appreciation for his skill. The way his fingers danced over the strings of his instrument was a thing of beauty to behold and the way he moved so confidently around the stage told her that this was who Luka truly was.

Gone was the quiet boy who liked to tease her and who she had always considered a bit of a flirt. This boy – no, this man – was sex incarnate. He knew exactly what he was doing with his fingers on his instrument and the dexterity he displayed (as well as the heated way he looked down at her from the stage) made her think about what else he could do with those nimble fingers.

She shook her head to get rid of those intrusive thoughts. She looked up just in time to see him wink at her and smirk knowingly. It was like he knew exactly what she had been thinking about.

The band continued playing, sending the crowd into an absolute frenzy. People around her were dancing and jumping and screaming and Marinette was loving every second of it.

Until she felt someone drape their arms around her shoulders, holding her in an unwelcome embrace from behind.

She turned her head to see Adrien grinning at her from mere inches away. In all their time together, as casual as their physical interactions had been, he’d never been so bold when touching her. It was something she truly respected about him as a person; he knew where the line was. Until now.

She looked to her other side to see if she could get Alya’s help, but her friend was too wrapped up in the energy of the crowd to notice her predicament. She reached up and grabbed Adrien’s wrists, aiming to gently pry his arms away from her, but he only took that as an invitation to cuddle her closer.

She looked up to the stage with a panicked expression. Sure enough, Luka had noticed what was going on. He walked across the stage, never missing a beat, and crouched down to where she was standing. He locked eyes with Adrien and growled, “Let her go. Now.”

The singer’s vocals were loud enough that nobody around them realized what was happening. To the casual observer, he was just interacting with the crowd. But to Marinette’s immense relief, Luka’s actions had caused not only Adrien to release his hold of her shoulders but had also attracted Alya and Nino’s attention to the drama that was unfolding between their two other friends.

Thankfully, once that situation had been diffused, the rest of the concert had gone off without a hitch, but Adrien’s actions made it abundantly clear to Marinette that she would be having a serious discussion with her friend about boundaries and personal space.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

As the club emptied out after the show, Marinette and company were waiting by the bar for Luka to make another appearance. After a few short minutes, he walked up, reached behind the bar to snag a bottle of water that was waiting for him, and drained half of it before he turned to them.

“So, what did you think of the show?”

Marinette beamed at him. She didn’t think her smile could stretch any further across her face. “Luka, you were amazing! How are you not famous by now?”

He chuckled at her enthusiastic reaction. “I don’t want to be famous. I like my peaceful life.” He shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of his water. “I just want to play my music and live in peace.”

While Nino and Alya exclaimed over how good the show was, Marinette could feel the daggers that Adrien was staring at Luka. As time passed and his gaze turned darker and darker, she had had enough.

Just as she was about to confront him about his attitude, Luka reached out and place his hand on her shoulder. “I hate to do this, but I’ve got to help them break the equipment down. Do you think I can stop by your place when I’m done?”

Pulling her phone out of her purse, she checked the time. It was only 10:30pm, so she nodded and told him she’d be waiting for him in the bakery.

With a final thanks to everyone for coming to see him perform, Luka strode off to join the band and clear the stage of equipment.

When they all left the club, Alya and Nino were hesitant to leave Marinette and Adrien alone, especially considering Adrien’s erratic behavior earlier and his questionable sobriety. But Marinette told them not to worry and sent them on their way, giving Alya a pointed stare that managed to convey that she was going to be having a very serious conversation with Adrien about what had transpired that night.

So it was with a little concern – and a promise to text when Marinette made it home safely – that Nino and Alya made their way home, watching as Marinette and Adrien walked in the opposite direction towards the DuPain-Cheng bakery.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

Chapter 19 (Coming Soon!)

*This chapter gave me soo much trouble. The first half I just absolutely hated, but I absolutely flew through the second half. I've been wanting to write Luka's concert for like, ever and personally, I love how it came out. And while I wasn't planning on Adrien acting like a possessive jerk initially, I think it kinda fit. So, I'm sorry if he seems OOC, but I love it and that's all that matters haha. BTW, this is the longest chapter I’ve written so far, by nearly 1,000 words! Yay for progress and longer chapters!

I'd like to apologize for it taking me so freaking long to get this out. Now that I'm not dying of the flu anymore, I'm working so much more, picking up all sorts of shifts to cover for the people who can't work now because they don't have childcare and the kids here are still out of school. I count myself extremely fortunate that I'm still able to work (I'm a home healthcare provider), so I'm not taking that for granted.

Special thanks as always for those who have reblogged, liked, and replied to this story of mine. It sincerely touches me that you like this utter trash that I'm creating and I couldn't be happier. I'm always so excited to see what you guys have to say about the new chapters and I so look forward to your feedback. I love you guys so much!

The next chapter will be exciting for me to write. Marinette confronts Adrien with his stupid behavior and Luka sees something he shouldn't.

Until next time, my lovelies XOXO*

@write-for-your-life2

[noahhernandez]

2/9/2015 v. 8/11/2020

1:Talk about the first time you watched your favorite movie. My favorite movie is Scream, and it started when I saw the midnight premier of Scream 4 with my dad back when I was in 8th grade, then Scream 1 came on AMC late on night and I just really like it

I still think Scream is one of my favorites, but Halloween has jumped up there just because I am obsessed with all things horror really lol. I started to love Halloween because of the new trilogy.

2:Talk about your first kiss. It’s really not that interesting but really like embarrassing. It was with my first boyfriend and I had just turned 15 and we were at the school just walking around and we went into the band hall and I was like ok im leaving and he was like wait and we kissed and i was like o

the same ! 

3:Talk about the person you’ve had the most intense romantic feelings for. I never really have had intense feelings for anyone. I d k

One my exes- I mean we were dating for awhile so that’s pretty intense to me. 

4:Talk about the thing you regret most so far. I regret… Nothing really I mean, I have done really bad things in my life, but i don’t regret them

I regret failing like 2 semesters of college lmao and almost dropping out. If i didn’t then I would 1- would have been done earlier and 2- would have already completed a year of grad school but IDK also another is wasting lots of money in 2017-2018

5:Talk about the best birthday you’ve had. The best birthday I’ve had was.. Idk This year was was nice I saw Iggy Azalea in concert, then I celebrated my friends’ birthday then mine and it was just everyone got to get together so ya this year my 18th

For my 21st birthday I went to Portland, Oregon and spent the weekend there and it was pretty and my first time there so it was nice despite what I think about PDX now. I don’t even know what I was doing for my 19 and 20th birthday lol. 

6:Talk about the worst birthday you’ve had. My 17th birthday because I was stuck 2 hours away from home with a bunch of nerds doing a band competition 

That is still probably my worst birthday. I forget to mention that I was gone literally from like 7am to midnight. They werent a bunch of loser nerds, they were my friends, but I still wish I was just at home lol. 

7:Talk about your biggest insecurity. I am skinny, but not fit. If I eat anything I get this like stomach and it makes me so sad. and ever since I got a job I work odd hours and I eat a lot of fast food and I’ve gained 10 pounds in 2 years and I guess i’m insecure about my weight

I am still insecure about my weight, and I probably weight like 5 pounds more than I did when I made this post 5 1/2 years ago. 

8:Talk about the thing you are most proud of. We have band banquets for band, and I only went my sophomore and junior year, and seniors give out awards to underclassmen that are just jokes really, and both years 4 different seniors gave me an award for being the biggest gossip in the entire band and I was proud of that lol

Well since then I have graduated both high school and college. I am proud that I finished college !! A BS in Psych. Proud of myself that I got promoted (in 2017) at my job; i’m proud of myself that I have my own apartment, and blah blah basically just doing regular adult shit. 

9:Talk about little things on your body that you like the most. I like my nose because of how perfectly fixed it is. I also really like my freckles/moles/dark marks idk what they are exactly, but they’re on my face and they look great

I still feel the same way about this, maybe add my eyebrows- they’re not like clean and nice they’re just expression markers on my face that i love.

10:Talk about the biggest fight you’ve ever had. I got into a fight with my old friend Angelica and that was almost 4 months ago and we used to be best friends and now we never talk.

When Janett didn’t talk to me all summer of 2019 because I told our other friend Angel something

11:Talk about the best dream you’ve ever had. I cant remember one 12:Talk about the worst dream you’ve ever had. I can’t remember one

13:Talk about the first time you had sex/how you imagine your first time. The closest thing i’ve had to like sex was being locked in a back of an SUV with a stranger drunk as fuck and naked and its embarrassing

Just awkward and nothing to which I expected. 

14:Talk about a vacation. When I was 16, the high school band took a trip to Hawaii, and all my friends were in band so it was great. We did a lot of things, we toured Pearl Harbor and even played a few patriotic songs on the USS Miss. and our hotel was on Wakiki beach. I went snorkeling in some beautiful water and shit and idk just walked all around Hawaii having a great time omg we got on stage at the Hard Rock Cafe and sang with German people i miss it

Hm that was fun. But I.. went to NY with my ex and that was pretty cool because I literally love New York, and I went to NOLA two years ago (today actually) and got miserably drunk so that was fun too 

15:Talk about the time you were most content in life. Probably just in the middle of junior year when everything and everyone was going with the flow

I feel like 2016 was a very content year because I remember nothing about it. 

16:Talk about the best party you’ve ever been to. Idk which one to talk about the one where I had a lot of fun and risked my life or the one where there was a lot of drama stirred up and drank myself to sadness. 

I haven’t really been to a party? I have gone out and had good times. Really anytime my friends and I go out I am having a good time 

17:Talk about someone you want to be friends with. I am already friends with people I want to be friends with

18:Talk about something that happened in elementary school. I kissed a boy on the back of the head and i told I just fell onto his head

Let me think of another one. Back in like fourth grade my friend was in a wheel chair and his backpack was falling from the back and I was trying to grab it and i was only 3 feet tall i couldnt see over or wasnt paying attention and i crashed him right into the bookshelves at the library. 

19:Talk about something that happened in middle school. A girl was mad at me because idk why lol and she pushed me in the hall way and I fucking flew across that hall on the floor and hit the wall she’s pregnant now

When I was in 5th grade (which is considered middle school in my district) I was standing on the play ground and someone threw a stick at my head and it knocked me the fuck out and I was bleeding from my temple.

20:Talk about something that happened in high school. In Jr. Year I was pulling into the parking lot but I was texting and I accidentally put half my car on grass area near the side walk luckily it was 7am and only one person saw me do it lol

One summer going into our senior year we had a party at Michelle’s house. First of all we were very drunk and Coby’s parents were like we are coming over and we cleaned TF UP so fast and sat on the couch and turned on I Know What You Did Last Summer and his parents were like interesting and and left and then we continued to drink anyways- we started playing truth or dare and my friend Angelica was like I dare u to kiss Anthony (someone I had liked prior) and he wouldnt and we started attacking him and calling him homophobic and hitting him with pillows lmao- him and I are still friend-ish

21:Talk about a time you had to turn someone down. I can’t think of something right now.

Literally anyone on grindr.

22:Talk about your worst fear. I’m afraid of having no career and being stuck doing something I hate and living paycheck to paycheck

Yeah, I’m scared of that still but I.. think just like being broke and jobless. RN with the pandemic we aren’t really working and still getting gov’t assistance, so.  IDK being a real real adult scares me a lot. 

23:Talk about a time someone turned you down. I can’t think of a time :)

One time in like 2016 maybe idk - this dude told me to come over and he lived far like not that far maybe 25 minutes lol far for me anyways I got to his apartment and there was a gate code and i asked him what it was and he didnt answer and it was like 2-3am and nobody was coming in or out and so i was like damn this sucks lmao

24:Talk about something someone told you that meant a lot. Nothing really has meant a lot to me. Everyone tells me the same thing over and over again and its so surface level

I still can’t think of anything but I’m sure the friends I have met since this and my friends Faith, Michelle, Peter, and Alisa have said something supportive that meant a lot to me. 

25:Talk about an ex-best friend. Angelica Ramirez. She was my best friend for only 3 years, but together we went through A LOT of shit. We started out senior year just fine, but she lied about a few things and made a lot of us feel like crap in October. I won’t lie, I do miss her. We have too many memories to just forget, too many funny stories and great adventures. She helped me with too much, and sometimes I think about how I cut her out of my life and I mad a bad choice. But only time can heal things and I have moved on and truly found people that won’t make me mad every 30 seconds. 

Brianna Pajak, I don’t remember anything about her except she was poor and we stopped being friends because she always wanted to fight and be annoying. 

26:Talk about things you do when you’re sick. Lay on bed on my computer and watch TV

I normally just suffer and cry about wishing I was healthy again.

27:Talk about your favorite part of someone else’s body. Their…!!>>>??? 

I must have nice hands and ur nose must be nice too! so nose and hands. lol

28:Talk about your fetishes. none

yeah I don’t have any lol not that I can think of. 

29:Talk about what turns you on. Idk i really like kissing and touching and this is awkward. 

30:Talk about what turns you off. bad breath by

that and ugly/rough hands, acne sorry i know it is natural but, shorter than me lol, white people, long hair on guys, and thats about it i think hm i am single yes 

31:Talk about what you think death is like. I think its like idk its scary tho

um idk i dont like thinking about death because i literally want to cry when i think about it. 

32:Talk about a place you remember from your childhood. I remember being in trees a lot

My step grandma’s a lot because my parents were working and she would watch us. She passed away about a month ago :( 

33:Talk about what you do when you are sad. I usually only tell one person and that person is Alisa and I cry sometimes to her and expect her to make things better and she does thank u

I be doing the same thing, I text someone and that person could really be anyone but it happened the other day and I texted Bri and she was very helpful. 

34:Talk about the worst physical pain you’ve endured. I have no idea, I’ve never broken pulled strained twisted fractures or anything i have no life

I still haven’t done any of that stuff to my body. I also have burn scars but I did not feel those when it was happening. I would just say i guess my wisdom teeth coming in because I did not get them removed. I have 3 out lol.

35:Talk about things you wish you could stop doing. Pushing potential love interests away 

I have had some ‘love interests’ since this post, but it’s been about a year now since and I kind of push away the opportunity of getting close to someone. I also need to stop being a bitch sometimes. 

36:Talk about your guilty pleasures. eating 

I would say idk eating was a stupid answer. 

37:Talk about someone you thought you were in love with. never

I was in love and i didn’t ‘think’ I was in love. I don’t know what you mean by talk about them, they were my partner but we broke up hehe.

38:Talk about songs that remind you of certain people. Fireflies by Owl City reminds me of my 7th grade crush Fancy by Iggy Azalea reminds me of my two friends Michelle and Alisa idk anything else

um Idk. i rly cant think  39:Talk about things you wish you’d known earlier. I wish I would have known that

That it’s okay to tell people you’re struggling lol . That is okay to fail sometimes (school).  40:Talk about the end of something in your life. everything is just about to start

When I ended how to get away with murder I wish I never did I love that show with all my heart. 

[corinnebean]

Part 2, Part 1 is here.

18 months ago, I moved across the country from Vancouver to Montreal. A lot of reasons for the move, medical, housing, schooling. I was looking forward to being able to travel with Julian again. The last time we tried to travel to the US, we had issue with Julian’s passport information and Julian’s presentation. Julian was 7, almost 8. It was awful as a parent to stand there and wonder if principles were more valuable than adventure. Asking a child about their genitals is never okay. With the change in government in the US and growing concerns about how people are treated at the borders, we decided to hold off on travelling to the US until policies changed. We still want a passport without a gender marker and have spoken with a prominent lawyer and a national party leader who agree. Moving to Montreal was me getting ready to travel to New York more often for shows with Julian. 

Then COVID. 

Julian didn’t get theatre in school this year; all productions are shuttered everywhere; we are stuck with YouTube or D+ (HINT, we know you recorded the shows!). Julian regularly researches musicals (this year Heathers and Beetlejuice were the ones classmates got Julian into). I pulled out Come From Away and one of us tossed Hadestown in last month.

Obviously, neither of us are Broadway stans.

I recognized Wait for Me from the Tonys, but musicals are just kind of the ambient sound of our house. To sit and listen from start to end, I will do it while I am working on a large project. By the time I got to listen to the story, I was already familiar with the music.

It was like Orpheus finding out Eurydice was six feet under—you’re telling me I missed out on this? I’ve definitely taken the long way around. I’m testing the limits of streaming services before they email me asking me if I am okay for listening to something too much. I may have met with some underground types to see bootlegs of stage productions in London and Broadway. I definitely bought the vinyl. And the book is arriving tomorrow.

Hadestown is my Hedwig.

I’m Eurydice, runaway from everywhere to cities any way when the wind blows. My hunger (for protection) made me turn on my heart and Flowers hits hard. I feel like Eurydice forgetting everything in my depression in making the hard choices.

I do go to the ends for what I love. When I love something, all my heart is an understatement. My child reaps the benefits the most, but those who have felt my love, my full love, know what it looks like. I see the world as it could be. To see some of my Autistic traits in Orpheus and how he loves. I am Orpheus. Some days I turn back, some days I keep going. Orpheus sacrificed how he saw the world to Hades and Eurydice; to the workers; to the earth. I try to get out without turning around, but some days trusting the universe is harder than others.

I am Hades. We have rules for a reason! And I will absolutely use them creatively to keep the upper hand. It’s not a point of pride, but it is who I am.

Hermes sees the story. Sees how it will turn out. I will still let it play out. I will still let you do what you’re going to do. You get my support, even if it means I know it will hurt. Hermes is me and how I parent. I will tell the stories when they are unfolded.

Pulled apart Persephone, her joy away from her family is because she remembers the love as it was. If it’s not the fulfilling, it’s not worth being present; doesn’t mean she’s abandoned Hades, just that she needs more away from him.

The Fates have done a lot to mess with my life, can’t say I relate to their meddling but I relate to their repercussions. Sometimes we can do everything right, but the winds will shift on you.

Like the Carnations of the show, the song is helping me. I know the original myth, Orpheus does not fare well after turning around. I know Eurydice is gone. Hadestown says now we know, let’s do it again. Maybe this time it will turn out.

I am fierce to learn my lessons when I get burned. I have been left knowing how the world is, but the character I see myself most in falls in love in spite of herself. And she allows herself to trust Orpheus again to provide her needs. I am trying to open up again. I obviously needed this story.

2014 was the year of dark.

2015 was the year of letting go.

2016 was the year of healing.

2017 was the year of yes.

2018 was the year of gratitude.

2019 was the year of me.

2020 was the year of what the fuck is happening?!

2021 is the year of not turning around.

[teaboot]

hello! i’m writing a story where a bunch of ghosts befriend a still-alive person, and i was wondering if i could ask you about cemetary caretaking in dms? (because that’s the setting, and i know nothing about cemetary caretaking.) or if not, could you point me in the direction of others who know more?

Yep! Keep in mind though that each Cemetary can have different rules about what markers, headstones, and offerings are allowed, so. There is that.

1. The older parts of the Cemetary are recognizeable because the headstones there are usually upright land in a bunch of varied shapes and sizes. They don't stand in tidy rows, and some of them sink into the ground and tilt or fall over completely. Pieces break off all the time, too, and can get launched back at you with a weedwacker or damage the lawnmower blades, so they have to be moved.

2. A serious concern for maintainance workers is potentially being hit by falling stones, so when they fall down, they tend to stay down until they are paid for to be properly replaced or repaired. My mom said she knows a guy who died that way.

3. Some stones from the late 1800's have weird dog-looking figures carved in- those are lambs, and are put on christian children's graves. They look odd when they erode.

4. Some older graves will be homemade, or have countries of origin included. Some will simply say "baby", "mother", or "father".

5. Some headstones only have one date- those are typically for infants who didn't live long, or were stillborn. Sometimes they won't have names, either, but a few do.

6. When cleaning a headstone, first you now as close as you can through rows, then you go to each individual headstone with a weedwacker and remove whatever's been left to cut the grass down. Then, you put whatever isn't broken or a hazard back as close as you can, and take a leafblower to the whole place so the loose clippings don't end up sticking all over and looking terrible. This takes twice as long when there's a whole pile of stuff, so some places won't let you leave anything at all. I believe in finding a happy medium, but that's me.

7. Loads of local critters and wildlife use headstones and other constructs as shelter. I'm always keeping my eyes out for small birds, snakes, toads, etc- toads are the most common, I try to move them to nearby woods, bushes, or finished areas so they don't get cut or run over.

8. I don't know about anyone else, but I liked to talk to the folks sometimes. A simple 'hey nice flowers' or 'sup kiddo nice truck'. I think it might be cause I used to work with a morgue and it was easy to chat with the people who came in, but Idk. Dead people aren't nearly as eerie or creepy as TV makes them out- I guess it's a tiny bit sad, especially with kids, but like... what can you do, you know?

9. You gotta watch where you step, because some places- especially older ones- are FULL of small holes or sudden dips. These can be from animals, but more often graves that don't get enough dirt on top or super duper ancient ones where things have caved underground let the earth sink in over time. It leaves about a person-sized divot that's easy to trip on and needs extra attention.

10. Some people like to leave candy or bottled drinks for their loved ones. I.... understand the sentiment, but. It gets gross, over time, when the packages fade and split, and critters get in, so most places don't allow it or throw it out.

11. Wal-Mart knicknacks. Are the bane of my life. Little hollow statues that break and get full of wasps nests, wreaths made in China where the flowers pop off, five hundred individual fabric flowers stuck into the ground one-by-one that you have to painstakingly remove and put back every single time, with sharp rusty metal ends and wire cores that pull the equipment apart... just. Ugh. I understand, I do, and I get that it's not something people generally think about, but... just. Whatever you're thinking of leaving, give it a quick shake. If something comes loose, I can't recommend leaving it.

12. Some headstones are homemade by friends or family, with glass beads or shells in cement. Those are sweet,and I like to see them.

13. The back of your neck will burn. No amount of sunscreen will prevent it. I recommend a collared shirt, or tying a bandanna around your neck. There is nothing else you can do.

14. Your whole body will be covered in sweat. I wore jeans, boots, a tank top tucked in, and a sleeveless T over top, with a bandanna, safety goggles, and a hat. The jeans got sweaty every day, and rubbed my upper thighs red-raw after the first three weeks. The skin grew back dark and dry and I need to apply moisturizer constantly to avoid cracking. My old sunburns have turned, and some of the worst ones left strips of dry, papery, red scarring that took forever to fade. Again, moisturizer and sunscreen. Constantly. I still have a callous at the base of each finger on both palms.

15. Your whole body will sweat. Your whole body will be covered in grass clippings. Some will fly up your ears and nose. Sometimes tiny rocks will hit your shins and face and feel like bee stings. You have to towel off every couple hours and drink water damned often, because you will literally sweat full litres every day. You will attract flies. They will crawl on your skin. You will learn to ignore them, because at least they aren't mosquitos or ticks.

16. There is no bathroom. The men will disappear in the woods or behind a tree. I would go to the bathroom at home and just make sure I didn't drink more than I could sweat, I guess. I'd take the worst days of my period off and stay home because there was no way to deal with that on an eleven hour shift with no washroom break. Ta-da. I still worked longer and harder than most of the men, though, so whatever.

17. It's unskilled hard manual labour, and our group had no toilets and long hours. Most of our workers came fresh out of prison, but I can't speak for everybody. We were small town, no-union farmers and kids with free time, and most our new guys quit after a day or two. Literally. We had one dude three years younger and over half my size who showed up for 45 minutes before quitting.

18. Your fingers get stiff and hard to move, and your elbows and feet get sore. It took me a while to make it more than two days in a row without a breather day in between, but three and a half was my max. By the end of it I'd be stumbling, missing spots, irritable, sore, and tired. Given a day or two to get back on my feet, and all was good. But there were some older folks who'd been doing that work for thirty years without a day off, and Damn. They've got my respect.

19. The skin on your feet and hands gets hard like leather. Be ready for that.

20. The older guys, or whoever's worked there longer, will have stories about some of the graves. Special ones they're extra careful with, or spots where old school buddies or family is buried. I'd like to say we treat them all equal, but I guess you can't help but be a little more thorough for the young mom who's daughter just turned nine, or the baby from 1920, or the brothers who died in a house fire. It's like... we're supposed to die from old age, after living a full life, right? It sucks a little harder when you know someone didn't get to have that.

21. You can't work through rain or lightning. You see a strike overhead, you haul ass to the truck and see if you can wait it out. That shit'll blow the bark off a tree.

22. You lose weight, gain muscle, turn darker, and your hair bleaches out at the ends. After about a month I was five pounds lighter, with bigger biceps and shorter hair 'cause it was too hot to leave long.

23. Water grass. Is hell. It's thick, it grows fast, it loves rain, and it's a bitch to cut. It will grow a foot high in two weeks, I shit you not. You gotta come back two, three times a month to keep it down.

24. Hearing damage from not having proper protection is a noticeably advancing issue

Best part of the job: feeling yourself get stronger, seeing your work at the end of the day, plenty of time to think and daydream, regular eating and sleeping schedule, easy to save money because you have long hours and no time to spend anything.

Worst part: physical discomfort, aches and pains, the repetition makes it feel like an ordeal of Greek damnation, always exhausted, coworkers keep quitting.

I can't think of anything else right now but ill update if I can! Hope this was helpful!!! :D

[unspokenfaith]

A Not So Surprising Romantic Gesture

Pairings: Peter Parker/Michelle Jones Rating: T Word Count: 2943 Genre: Fluff/Humor Summary: 5 times Peter tries to ask MJ to prom and 1 time he doesn’t have to.

So I originally had this planned for Spideychelle Month, but only recently had the inspiration to finish writing it. I just love the thought of Peter and MJ still being awkward idiots even after dating for a while :’) Also really enjoyed writing all the side characters in; it definitely added to all the fun.

AO3

I.

Asking your long-term girlfriend to senior prom seemed like the logical thing to do. But then again, so did skipping over all the hassle and taking her anyway, because why wouldn’t they go together? 

Peter knew how much MJ resented traditions, particularly gendered ones, but he also knew the smile on her face and the gleam in her eyes whenever he surprised her with a romantic gesture, and it was safe to say that alone outweighed anything else.

Under any other circumstances, he would’ve asked her opinion on the matter—some things he just couldn’t get a read on—but Peter wanted this to be a surprising romantic gesture. The surprising romantic gesture. MJ more than deserved that. 

And perhaps there was a tiny, selfish part of him that always hoped he could ask the girl of his dreams to prom, even if he couldn’t dance to save his life.

Peter felt confident one sunny, April morning when he stepped off the bus, bouquet of flowers in hand. Black dahlias, of course. 

He rehearsed what he was going to say at least thirty times in his head from the moment he woke up, but he couldn’t settle on the right words. What else was he supposed to say besides ‘MJ, will you go to prom with me?’ Even though we’ve been dating for nine months, so it’s not like we would go with anyone else anyway, right? It seemed so easy, yet it also didn’t feel like enough. At least the flowers would add a little something extra. 

By the entrance, Peter spotted MJ with her back to him, talking to Ned and Betty. Inexplicably, the four of them made a habit of meeting outside every morning before walking in together. Cheesy and predictable as it was, it always put a smile on Peter’s face no matter how he was feeling that day. 

Ned caught his eye, flashing him a smile. Peter shook his head furiously before he could say anything. He didn’t want MJ to see him yet. 

“Hey, Penis Parker!” 

Peter skidded to a stop, his heart jumping to his throat and the flowers dropping into a puddle. Flash’s shiny new car nearly ran Peter over, but that seemed to be the least of his concerns.

“Watch where you’re going! You could’ve hit my car!” Flash slowed down as he passed him, and his eyes widened at the drenched dahlias. “Aww! Did you get those for me, Parker? That’s so thoughtful, but I’m not interested.”

He couldn’t so much as lift his head and entertain a response before Flash drove away to find a parking spot. 

He couldn’t even find himself to appreciate the irony of black dahlias wilting in dirty water. His only consolation was that MJ sure would’ve. 

II.

Despite yesterday’s disappointment, Peter quickly contrived a new and hopefully Flash-proof idea. Unfortunately, this one required a lot more patience.

He never realized how little MJ went to her locker until he sped down the hallway and peeked around the corner after every period waiting for her to show up. Then again, she didn’t really have any reason to when she used one notebook for all of her classes—and every line of every page at that. And when she couldn’t fill a page, she would draw random sketches, mostly of Peter’s face in physics.

“What? It’s funny,” she would say. “You’re always so focused.”

And the way she said “funny,” like she really meant “adorable,” never failed to make Peter blush.

“Dude, what are you doing?” 

Peter jumped at the sound of Ned’s voice.

“Hey, shh! I’m waiting for MJ,” he said.

Ned blinked. “You know she’s your girlfriend, right? Why are you hiding?” 

“Ned, please!” Peter whispered loudly. “It’s a surprise, okay? I don’t want her to see me yet.”

“Oh! This is the prom thing!” he practically screamed.

“Dude, seriously!”

Their back-and-forth picked up a few glances from passing students. Peter laughed nervously before turning back to Ned.

“Try to be quiet about it, okay? Please.”

“Right, right, right,” Ned said. “Sorry. Should I—Hey, there’s MJ and Betty.”

Peter turned around, and sure enough, there was MJ, fiddling with the combination on her locker—Betty rambling behind her. 

“Please! Pretty please!” Betty put her hands together, pouting. “You said you would.”

MJ sighed. “I know, but...I can’t this weekend. I’ve got…you know, stuff.”

Betty placed her hands on her hips. “I know you really want to go. You just don’t want to be excited.”

“I do want to. I just...we haven’t really talked about what we’re doing yet.”

Peter felt his stomach twist into a knot once he realized what she was talking about. Was she expecting him to have asked her already? Or was she not expecting him to ask at all? Was she mad they haven’t talked about prom at all?

Was he doing something wrong?

“Peter, she’s opening the locker.” Ned tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

As soon as the door swung open, Betty screamed, causing both Peter and Ned to jump.

“Jesus, Betty, don’t do that!” MJ said.

“Move!” But Betty shifted so she stood in front of MJ, then proceeded to toss everything out of her locker. Used papers and pens flew everywhere. Peter’s heart sank when he saw a particularly important one slide under a neighboring locker.

“Betty, what the—” 

Betty stomped her foot, pushing it hard into the floor. “Sorry, there was a spider!”

“Was it really necessary to tear my locker apart?”

Their voices faded as Peter turned away, leaning on the wall and staring at the ceiling. 

“Man, I’m sorry, Peter,” Ned said. “You can always try again tomorrow.”

III.

Peter did not try again tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. 

Four days was ample time for him to recover from another failed prom ask. He didn’t want to waste too much time, especially after overhearing MJ’s conversation with Betty. 

Baking was all science. At least that’s what Peter told himself after spilling bags of flour and nearly setting the kitchen on fire. May insisted on stepping in, but he was determined to do this all by himself, even if it took him all night. 

He might’ve lost valuable study time, and a lot of sleep, but it was worth it in the end to have five chocolate frosted red velvet cupcakes. While Peter’s original plan was to bake the whole batch, only half were worth saving. Luckily, he only needed four letters and a question mark’s worth. 

MJ liked them because, supposedly, “no one else does.” Everyone always goes for the vanilla frosted. How she ever determined that, he had no idea. But the information made itself useful.

Rather than approaching her before school, he thought it best to keep them covered in his locker until the end of the day. Less people around. Less of a chance that everything will go wrong. Hopefully less spiders. 

As soon as the final bell rang, Peter sprinted to his locker and carefully removed the tray. MJ was always the first one to arrive to Academic Decathlon, and he would make sure to be there before anyone else. 

He checked his watch—2:18. Decathlon practice started at 2:30. Plenty of time. 

Peter’s skin prickled as he approached the door of the classroom. He had no reason to be nervous. It’s not as though she would say “no.” But what she said to Betty still lingered in the back of his mind, feeding into his nerves, planting his feet to the floor. 

After talking himself in and out of it several times, he took a deep breath and opened the door. 

Much to his disappointment, MJ wasn’t in her usual spot at the front of the room. In fact, she wasn’t in the room at all. 

Cursing himself for being too early, Peter set the cupcakes down on a desk. He looked from the clock on the wall to his watch, then back to the clock again, as though the little, red second hand would bring MJ here faster.

“Woah, Peter! Did you bring those for the team?” 

Peter turned around to find Winston standing in the doorway. Before he had time to react, Winston rushed over to his desk and grabbed a cupcake. 

“No, no, no! Wait!” 

But Winston was already devouring the chocolate “P.” 

“Winston, those were for—”

MJ walked in a few seconds too late. “Hey, dorks. What’s up? You guys are early.” She went to the front of the classroom to set her bag down. 

Winston looked from MJ to Peter, eyes widening with the realization of what he just did. 

“Peter, I’m so sorry...”

Peter forced a smile. “It’s fine, Winston. They’re all yours.”

There was no sense in asking MJ if she would like to go to “Rom.”

IV.

With everything that happened over the past week, Peter began to see the error of his ways. All of his promposals were private. There was too much risk in privacy. He needed to ask MJ to prom in a way that was unavoidable. Foolproof. But not too public. 

Peter stuck with the decathlon room. It was never used until the team met after school. So early one morning, he got his robot spider to unlock the door. He wrote the question bold and large on the whiteboard then slid the chalkboard back to cover it. 

Mr. Harrington always used the white board. The sound of the chalk on the board made him sweat. And then he would get so flustered that he’d continue. It wasn’t a good experience for anyone in the room.

Drumming his fingers on the desk, Peter stared at the empty chalkboard. MJ flashed him a confused glance.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, totally. Just ready to get started.” Peter’s voice was at least two octaves higher than normal, and he knew it. He just hoped MJ didn’t notice. 

Mr. Harrington walked up to the board. Peter hadn’t noticed how loud his foot was tapping under the desk until a couple of the team members gave him looks.

“Okay, guys, I want to go over a few of the logistics for the competition,” Mr. Harrington said, reaching for the markers, but paused. “Oh, where did they go?”

“Where did what go, Mr. Harrington?” Peter asked. But then it hit him. He was in such a rush earlier that he never put the markers back. He must’ve shoved them into his locker without thinking.

“My markers,” he said. “I don’t see them anywhere.” Mr. Harrington lowered his glasses slightly, scanning his desk. “Huh, well, I guess we’re using the chalkboard today.”

A chorus of groans sounded throughout the room.

“I know, I know, guys. It sounds like the lonely cries of a single man in his bed at night,” he said, followed by silence. “Well, anyway…”

Peter’s foot started tapping on the floor again. Sure, he could just walk up there and pull the chalkboard aside. But that completely defeated the point. It was supposed to be a surprise. It was supposed to happen naturally. 

“Wait! Mr. Harrington, uh...doesn’t anyone have a marker?” Peter asked.

Not a single response. MJ eyed him curiously. By now, she knew something was going on with him. 

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Peter, but I think we’re all going to have to suffer together today,” Mr. Harrington said, turning back to the board and hesitantly picking up a piece of chalk. 

“Man, he’s not having a good day, is he?” Ned whispered.

Peter knew the feeling.

V. 

Standing in the school library, card in hand, Peter was persistent in making this work. After a week of almosts, he was going to make sure that—no matter what—today would be the day. He was going to ask his girlfriend to prom, and no one or nothing was going to stop him. 

He spent the previous night putting together a card specifically for MJ. Peter was by no means artistically inclined, so he did it all on the computer—cutting and pasting images of some of her favorite things. On the front of the card, he placed her favorite picture of them. Betty took it at her Christmas party. She had pointed out the mistletoe above their heads. Peter blushed as MJ kissed his cheek. Everyone cheered. 

It might’ve been his favorite picture, too.

Peter slid the card into MJ’s favorite poetry book, Milk and Honey. She picked it up as a study break every time the two of them came to the library to do homework. Sometimes he asked her to read the poems aloud just so he could watch the soft, thoughtful expression on her face as she spoke the words. 

So he knew when he asked her to meet him here after class, that’s exactly what she would do. Only this time she would have something new to read. 

As soon as he heard footsteps, Peter scrambled to sit down and lay his books out. He started writing out random notes as she approached the table.

MJ squeezed his hand as she sat down across from him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Peter smiled brightly. 

“What’s up?” MJ squinted at him.

“What do you mean? Just studying is all,” he laughed.

“No, not right now. I mean in general. You’ve been acting weird all week.”

“N-nothing. Nothing’s up. Just nervous, I guess.”

“For what?”

“Oh, you know…” Peter said. “The test next week.” He wanted to kick himself for saying the first thing that came to his mind.

“Oh, yeah, I guess.”

Through all his prom planning, Peter somehow managed to forget they had a physics test next week. He’d have to worry about that later. 

The two were mostly quiet while they studied, Peter too afraid he’d give something away by talking, and MJ too busy actually focusing on the material. He flipped through the pages of the textbook, pretending to read while he occasionally glanced at her. Waiting for her to take a break. 

Suddenly, Brad walked into the library, passing by their table on his way to one of the shelves. The poetry section. 

Peter fought every urge to start squirming in his seat, which only resulted in him starting to squirming in his seat.

MJ put her book down. “Okay, seriously, Peter, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I just…” 

She followed his gaze behind her to where Brad was browsing dangerously close to MJ’s book. 

“Brad? Is that what’s bothering you?”

Peter shook his head furiously, watching as Brad picked up Milk and Honey, about to open the cover.

He pushed himself up from his chair. “Brad! What are you doing?”

Brad shot him a look of annoyance. “Trying to find a book for my English project. Sorry if that’s a crime, Parker,” he said. “Although you’re one to judge.” 

MJ rolled her eyes. “You’re really not going to let that one go, are you? No one believes that Peter’s a prostitute, so drop it already.”

“That’s my book!” Peter exclaimed. “I was just going to rent it out!”

“Wait, what?” MJ said.

Brad flipped through the book, and Peter’s chest tightened. “Don’t see your name on it anywhere. You don’t look in a hurry to take it.”

Without thinking, Peter went over and grabbed the book from Brad’s hand. “I said I’m borrowing it, okay?”

“Okay, chill.” Brad held his arms up in defeat. “It’s just a book.” He shook his head as he wandered over to the next section. 

Peter sighed in relief. When he turned around, he found MJ staring at something on the floor next to him. 

VI. 

“What?” Peter followed her gaze to a small, familiar piece of paper folded on the ground. He scanned the pages of the book, even though he already knew the card was missing.

MJ rose from her seat and bent down to pick it up. Peter was about to stop her before he realized this was what he was waiting for to happen. Even if it wasn’t happening in the way he planned.

“It’s stupid. I’m sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

She said nothing. Just stared at the front of the card, her lips slowly curving into a smile. Peter remained silent as she opened it, studying every letter, every image. He wasn’t sure if he should be troubled by the fact that she still wasn’t saying anything in response.

MJ refolded the card, placing it on the desk. 

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s really cheesy, and we’re already dating, so why am I asking, right?” Peter laughed nervously, unable to meet her eyes.

“Stop talking, loser,” she said.

Peter cleared his throat and nodded. 

“You’re right. This is incredibly cheesy.” 

His shoulders sank. God, why did you do it, Peter? So stupid. 

“But,” MJ continued. “This is easily the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Peter looked up, beaming. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiled back.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t ask you sooner, or we didn’t talk about it and make plans, or….I’m just really sorry.”

MJ put a finger over his mouth. “My answer is ‘yes,’ okay?”

Peter kissed her right there, in the middle of the school library, catching a few glances and whispers. The librarian didn’t look too thrilled about it, but she buried her nose in a book as though she hadn’t noticed.  

MJ gently pushed him away. “You haven’t been worrying about this all week, have you?”

“Of course not,” Peter laughed.

He was the worst liar imaginable, but at least he was taking his girlfriend to prom. 

[sprnklersplashes]

Forever Young

AO3

On May 18th, Storybrooke gathers together to celebrate one of the most important days-Hope Swan-Jones' birthday.

Normally, like every other teenager on the planet, Hope hates mornings. She definitely takes after her mother in that regard, pulling the blanket over her head and groaning after snoozing the alarm once, twice, three times. Gideon had taken the liberty of moving it across her bedroom so that she’d have to actually get out of her bed to turn it off, but he apparently forgot she has magic and can snooze it with a flick of her wrist.

Today though, well, it’s not really an exception. It’s different, meaning she only snoozes it once before getting up. After all, today’s special, as shown on the screen of her phone and the date on her calendar, circled in green marker.

Saturday, May 18th. Her birthday.

She flings the covers off and rolls out of bed. The first thing she does is run over to the full length mirror in the corner of her room. She turns around, examining herself from every angle. Her red waves are wild and seemingly untameable, just like they always are in the mornings, and she’s still small and slightly pale (unfortunately, her hair colour comes with snow white skin-and it suits her grandmother far far more than it does her), same scattering of freckles and green eyes that everyone says are a double of her mother’s. It’s the exact same face and body she had when she was 14.

She’s not sure why she’s disappointed. Logically, she should know that nothing would have changed overnight. She knows for sure what she’d have liked to have happened; for her to grow at least an extra inch and for her hair to be more manageable and for the apple cheeks that made her look 12 to finally disappear. For her to look older, she supposes.

She hears her family getting ready downstairs, the bathroom door opening and closing outside, and shrugs it off. Maybe her magical teenage growth spurt will come later (and in this town, you never know). For now it was time to get on with her day. After all, you only turn 15 once.

After throwing on her uniform, running a brush through her hair and pulling it into a braid, she opens her door to head downstairs, only to find Gideon coming out of his room at the exact same time. And all at once, she feels her body ready to leap into action. Like she’s a lion and he is a limping gazelle.

“Gideon!” she shouts, her voice squeaking, and throws herself at him until he hits the wall with an audible thump. She presses her chin to his chest and looks up at him, laughing as he adjusts his glasses. “Know what day it is?”

“The day I finally see Doctor Whale about the injuries you’re definitely causing to my spine?” he groans, but he’s laughing too.

“Nope,” she replies, shaking her head, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “It’s my birthday!”

“Oh, is it?” he asks. She lets him go, but the bouncing doesn’t stop, like something is running and fizzing through her veins. Actually something might well be; her magic isn’t always under control, especially if she’s feeling strong emotions. “I forgot. And I have this thing on today.”

“No you do not,” she tells him, poking his chest.

“No, I don’t,” he agrees, slinging an arm around her shoulders. They walk down to the kitchen together, where her parents and Belle are already present. Among the usual sounds of the radio playing old pop songs her mom loves, plates being moved around and the fridge opening and closing, Hope hears the unmistakable around of batter sizzling in a frying pan, and she shares a grin with Gideon.

“Race you!” she says, pushing him and taking the stairs two at a time even though he keeps walking, having never actually agreed to race.

She throws herself into the kitchen with all the grace of an excited puppy whose owners just came home, flinging her hair dramatically over her shoulders for good measure. At the stove, her dad grins, eyes still on the pancakes, but his shoulders shake from laughing. She looks around expectantly, briefly wondering where her mom is, eyeing the two adults in the room hopefully.

“Morning, Hope,” Aunt Belle greets, pulling her into a light hug. “And happy birthday, love.”

“Thanks Aunt Belle,” she replies. She runs over to the cupboard, grabs a plate and heads to the stove. Her dad looks at her out of the corner of his eye as she scans the pancake ingredients around the stove. Jug of batter, blueberries, raspberries, syrup-

“Where’s the chocolate chips?” she asks. “I can’t have pancakes without chocolate chips.”

“Well, theoretically you could,” he says, but a pout from her silences him. “But your mum’s off to get them-” His voice trails off as he hears a car door close outside, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. “And it seems she’s just in time.”

Her mom comes in, discarding her red leather jacket, holding not one, but two bags of chocolate chips in her hand. Her face lights up when she sees Hope, standing expectantly with her plate next to the stove.

“You, miss, are very lucky the grocery store is open in the mornings,” she tells her, hitting her head gently with the bags. “And that no one was around to ask me why I was buying chocolate chips at this hour.”

“Thank you, Mom,” she replies, smiling at her, batting her eyelashes for the full effect. Her mom laughs and places a kiss on the top of her head.

“Happy birthday, kid,” she says, a smile on her face to match Hope’s. She hands Hope the bag of chocolate chips and her dad steps back to allow her to pour them onto the two waiting pancakes. She drops more than generous handfuls onto them, chuckling as her dad winces slightly.

“I have to turn them over, love,” he reminds her when she begins getting a little adventurous.

“Wow Hope,” Gideon says dryly from the doorway. “Want some pancake with your chocolate chips?” She sticks her tongue out at him, waggling it for good effect.

“Hey,” her mom reminds her. “Manners.” But Gideon’s smile shows he’s in no way offended. Especially since he scrunches up his own face when all three adults have their backs turned.

After finishing off their pancakes-chocolate chip for Hope and blueberry for Gideon-and brushing their teeth, the loud, fast knock at their door can only belong to one person. Right on time, slightly unusual for him. Her uncle usually can’t keep track of time if his life depended on it. But when they open the door, sure enough, Lucas is standing on the doorstep, hands behind his back.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly, looking at Gideon rather than Hope, his cheeks pink and eyes shining. Hope rolls her eyes. They’ve been officially “a couple” for two months, but she still has to deal with this sappy mess every morning.

“Hi,” Gideon replies, smiling softly.

“Hey,” Hope says, breaking the unspoken communication between them. Admittedly, it was kind of weirdly sweet to watch her brother and uncle make doey eyes at each other. She guesses that’s what it feels like at that point. Not that she’d know.

“Hey birthday girl,” Lucas greets. He takes his arm out from behind him, holding out a small pink gift bag. Hope’s mouth falls open and she lets out a laugh. “Consider this a sneak preview of what’s coming tonight.”

“Oh my gosh, Lucas,” she says, taking the bag gently. “You know you didn’t need to do this.”

“Of course I did, you’re my favourite niece,” he says. “Go on, open it. It’s more than a cute bag.” She shares a grin with him and opens it, pulling away the white tissue inside to get to the real present; a small wooden fairy door, painted dark blue and covered in gold glitter, Hope’s name written in silver cursive writing on a white wooden plaque above it.

“Lucas,” she says, unsure of what to say. “It’s gorgeous!”

“Thanks,” he replies, blushing slightly. “I mean it’s nothing really.” Hope knows he’s lying, seeing his ‘tell’-a lack of eye contact and hands in his pockets. This isn’t nothing.

“It’s awesome, Luke,” she says.

“What’s awesome?” her mom asks from behind her. “Being on time for school is awesome, you know.”

“Mom, look what Lucas got me,” she says. When she sees it, her mom’s face lights up, looking from the door to her brother.

“That’s pretty great, Lucas,” she tells him, making him look at the ground, swinging his and Gideon’s intertwined hands. “Why don’t I put this in your room for you. That way you guys can get to school on time.”

They nod and bid Emma goodbye before heading off to school, Lucas and Gideon still holding hands.

“So Hope, how does it feel being 15?” Lucas asks.

“Weirdly, I don’t feel different,” she confesses. “Should I?”

“Nah,” he replies, waving his free hand. “You won’t feel the crushing weight of your own morality until you’re 16.” Gideon digs his boyfriend in the ribs, laughing.

“And then when you’re 17 it’s an existential crisis, according to Alex,” Gideon says. “It’s not too bad, kid.”

Hope nods, thinking about the year she’d had. Being born in May meant she had watched all her friends turning 15 before her. She had viewed turning 15 as a right of passage, moving away from your awkward preteen years and into a fully fledged teenager, the next step towards adulthood. But now, especially in her school uniform with the skirt reaching to her knees (while her grandmother was quite relaxed about it, Mrs Hubbard, their vice principal, was adamant that the skirts be regulation length) and pink hair tie, she still feels like a kid. She touches the edge of her hair tie gently. She hadn’t thought much when she put it on that morning, not even noticing the colour, but now she regrets it painfully.

Letting her arm dangle by her side, she waves her wrist gently and smiles as the hair tie changes from pink to black.

“Morning, people!” a voice calls just before they reach the school. All three turn their heads to see a slightly out of breath Philip jogging towards them. He pushes his too-long black hair out of his eyes and gives them a welcoming smile.

“Hey, Phil,” Lucas greets, bumping his fist against his. Hope wrinkles her nose. She supposes she’ll never get teenage boys.

“Happy birthday, Hope,” he says. “My parents are going to your thing tonight so your pres-” He cuts himself off, wincing.

“You weren’t meant to tell me that, were you?” she asks, giggling.

“No I was not,” he confirms with a grimace. Sometimes they had joked that Philip and Lucas must have been switched as babies, given they were only born two days apart, since Philip can’t keep a secret. The four of them laugh it off, crossing the courtyard under the May sunshine and into the school.

Inside, Hope stands at her locker, putting books in and out, while stopping to thank people who wished her a happy birthday. As the Saviour’s daughter and Snow White’s granddaughter, she was as close to a celebrity as she could be in Storybrooke; and everyone knew when her birthday was. Most of her classmates had either attended her naming ceremony as babies or their mothers had been pregnant with them at the time. There’s a photo in the living room on the day of her naming ceremony of her in her mom’s arms, Gideon in Belle’s, Lucas in Snow’s, Robin in Zelena’s and a lot of other babies with their moms. And with fame came frankly, more attention than she’s comfortable with. Especially since for a lot of those kids barely spoke to her outside of her birthday.

“Heyo,” someone says from behind her, followed by a word not appropriate for school. She knows who it is before she turns around. Robin Mills leans against one of the lockers, presenting her with a huge candy bar and a card in a pale blue envelope.

“Robin!” she squeaks. “Thank you.” She slides the chocolate into her bag and opens up the card, which displays a picture of a bowl of peas with the phrase ‘Ha-pea Birthday’ written in black block lettering. She looks up at Robin. “Did you pick this?”

“Hey, me and Alex spent a long time in that card shop!” she insists. Sure enough, when Hope opens the card, it reads; ‘To Hope, Happy 15th girl. Go crazy. From, Robin and Alex.’ “Unfortunately she had cheer practice this morning. But she wants me to convey the birthday wishes. So you know…” She waves her arms around awkwardly. “Wishes conveyed.”

“Thank you, Robin,” she says sincerely.

“Of course,” she says. She opens her mouth as if to ask something, but suddenly looks over Hope’s shoulder, her tongue darting out to the corner of her mouth. Hope can’t even ask before she hears another, unmistakable voice behind her.

“Hey Hope!” She jumps and turns around to see Melody Fisher, Ariel’s daughter, just behind her. Today she’s tying her hair back with a lilac ribbon, in a low ponytail, and wearing tiny silver dolphin earrings. And smiling. She’s always smiling, and it sends Hope’s heart into overdrive.

“Hi Melody,” she says in an attempt to be casual.

“Hi,” she says again. “Um, happy birthday.”

“Oh, thanks,” she replies, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah I’m not trying to make a big deal out of it…”

“Oh,” Melody replies, her face falling slightly. “Well, I hope it’s not too much, but I got you this.” She holds out a box wrapped in blue paper. “Just a little something, it’s really not that great.”

“Thanks,” she says, taking it from her after a brief hesitation. “Thanks so much, you really didn’t have to do that.” She unwraps it, her fingers seemingly forgetting to work. She feels her face get warm and hopes she isn’t blushing. When she gets the paper off, she finds it to be a box of colouring pencils. Hope lifts the lid and runs her finger down them; they’re strong and sturdy, and she can tell just by looking at them they’re vibrant.

“I mean I know you like art,” Melody explains. “And I thought that-”

“They’re awesome!” Hope interrupts. “They’re awesome, Melody. Thank you, thank you so much.” She and Melody laugh, and Hope tries not to focus on her eyes. Her perfect eyes that sparkle when she laughs. Melody scratches the back of her neck, chewing her lip slightly.

“Um, I should get to my homeroom,” she says.

“Yeah, of course, yeah,” Hope says. “And, thanks. Again. These are… these are great.” Melody nods and gives her a small wave before heading down the hall. Hope’s eyes follow her, her heart fluttering as she goes. She bites her lip, the butterflies in her stomach going crazy.

“Wow,” Robin says, looking between her and Melody. “You have it so bad.”

“You have it bad,” she shoots back, which only makes Robin chuckle.

“Gosh, Hope, just ask the poor girl out,” she tells her.

“Seriously?” Hope splutters. “First off, how do you even know I like her?” Robin raises her eyebrows but remains silent. “Second off, even if I did like her, I don’t know if she likes girls. Or you know, likes me.”

“Aw, kid,” she says, patting her cheek. Hope scowls and wriggles away from her. “Trust me, she does.”

“Really?” she asks, her voice much higher than usual.

“Yeah, really.” She taps the box of pencils in Hope’s hand. “No one goes out and buys that for someone they don’t like.” Hope looks down at them, trying not to smile. Her hands shake and she holds the box tighter, like it’s Melody herself. Before she can ask anything else, the bell rings. “And I have to get to class.”

“Me too,” Hope sighs, closing her locker. “See you later.”

“Happy birthday kid,” she says again, wrapping her in a quick, light, one armed hug before heading off to homeroom.

Much later on, after school and homework and the usual “how was your day”, Hope and the rest of her family (often dubbed the Swan-Jones-French clan, which was fine for all parties involved) were making their way to Granny’s diner, Hope dressed in black jeans with a gold thread running up the sides, a crisp white shirt and red boots, a compromise she and her parents agreed on. If she had it her way, she’d be wearing overalls and a hoodie, but sadly, she can’t have everything. The fourth in line for the throne can’t be seen at her own birthday party in paint-splattered jeans.

The inside of Granny’s is spectacularly lit up, tables pushed to the side to accommodate the guests who had joined for her birthday. Hope pulls at her shirt, shrinking back a little into her family. All eyes being on her wasn’t an entirely comfortable experience. Frankly, she was more excited for tomorrow night when it would be her and a few good friends wreaking havoc in her living room. Guests are packed wall to wall, all here to celebrate the Princess’ birthday. A silver banner saying “Happy Birthday Hope” in large, colourful letters hands from the ceiling, rainbow coloured balloons sit in the corners and dotted around the room.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Granny says from the side, standing behind the counter.

“Thank you Granny,” she replies sincerely. She looks to the side, where the buffet of hot food sits on the counter, dishes full of fries, burgers, chicken strips and wings, onion rings (no doubt requested by her mom) and tries not to stare at it, but she is hungry and this is likely going to be the highlight of the night.

“Come on, let’s get some food,” her mom says, apparently reading her mind. At the bar, Hope piles her plate with a bit of everything she can, despite Gideon telling her she can come back for seconds if she wants. This is far from her first rodeo and she knows that the chicken wings especially go quickly. She piles up her plate and slides into a booth with her parents and Aunt Belle, her mom’s plate looking similar to her own.

Philip and his parents pass their table, Aurora with a small box wrapped in blue paper.

“Oh my gosh, Philip!” she says, her voice high and laced with sarcasm. “I didn’t know you were coming here!” Her mom laughs and has to disguise it with a drink.

“You blabbed, didn’t you?” Aurora asks fondly, ruffling his hair, making Philip scrunch up his face. “Anyway, now that we have you, is it okay to give presents now?”

“Don’t see why not,” Emma says. Aurora beams and hands Hope over the box.

“Philip pushed us in the right direction,” she says, rubbing her son’s back fondly. Philip hides his smile beneath his hair as Hope tears off the wrapping paper. Inside is two novels, one with a blue cover depicting a silhouette of a tree, and the other with a dark red cover with a silver sword.

“Oh my god!” Hope exclaims, reading the spines. “Renee Hamilton? I love these books; how did you know I love these books?”

“Because you were reading one last week and you said loudly, to all of us, ‘I love these books’,” Philip replies dryly, but smiling.

“Thank you,” she says, laughing. She looks past him to his relieved parents. “Thank you so much.”

From then, the rest of the room takes the cue to start handing out their own presents. A new jacket from Ella, Thomas and Alexandra (which matches the one of Alex’s that she had been admiring), pyjamas and watercolour paints from her grandparents and Lucas, a snow globe of Oz from Robin and Zelena (assured her, and more importantly her family, that she did not trap the inhabitants of Oz in a snow globe), and a new notebook from Thomas, Ella and Alexandra.

“Okay, here,” Belle says, handing her over a box wrapped in green sparkly paper. “This is from me and Gideon.” Hope catches Gideon’s eye. Despite how much they argue, he always manages to get her exactly what she wanted. Not just her, anyone he buys something for.

When she sees what’s underneath the wrapping paper, it seems he’s done it again; she finds a box containing bright red sneakers, ones she had stared at unsubtly in a catalogue. She knows they came straight from New York. She touches the white edges gently, flicking the toe of them. They’re tough, but somehow soft at the same time, and they have that amazing new shoe smell. They look too perfect to wear, but she can’t wait to get them on, her current sneakers suddenly feeling too tight and uncomfortable.

“Okay, why don’t you put them on?” her mom says fondly. “Since you’re clearly dying to?”

Hope doesn’t need to be told twice. She takes off her boots and slides the sneakers on, tying the laces tightly in a double knot, jumping up, bouncing, testing them out. They fit perfectly, like they were made just for her.

“Thank you,” she says to Belle and Gideon, not stopping her bouncing. “Thank you thank you thank you.” If she wasn’t in public, she’d hug them. Belle however seems to read her mind and hugs her tightly.

“You’re welcome,” she says softly.

“Anything for you, kid,” Gideon says, smiling. She’ll hug the hell out of him later tonight, he can count on that.

“And finally,” her mom says from behind. She turns around to see her dad carrying in a long, flat box covered in pink wrapping paper and setting it on the bar with a flourish. “The one from Mom and Dad.” Hope bites her lip, grinning as she runs over to the bar and pulls herself onto the stool, tearing the paper from the bottom up. She rips it away to reveal a smooth dark wooden box. After laying her hand on it and knocking, trying to guess what’s inside, she flips the two little golden latches and opens it.

What’s inside takes her breath away. Resting on a dark red velvet bed, a black handled sword, its curved blade tucked inside a metal sheath. The light catches on the handle, making it shine in all the colours of the rainbow. She runs her finger along the handle, the rest of the room silent.

“Can I…” she whispers, looking to her dad.

“Of course.”

Her hand curls around the handle and her other hand around the leather sheath, lifting it out of the box. She secures the sheath against her waist, fitting snuggly there like it was made specially for her, tailored to every curve and flaw of her body.

When she lifts the sword out, it comes out in one swift action. The blade is so clean she can see her reflection, the sharp edges gleaming in the overhead light. It looks harmless, beautiful and alluring, almost silver, but she doesn’t even need to touch the edges to know it would cut through her skin like it was paper.

“Woah,” she breathes.

“You bought her a sword?” she hears her grandfather ask, and it’s at that moment she becomes re-aware of the fact she’s not alone. She slides the sword back into its sheath without a word.

“Technically it’s a cutlass,” her dad replies, draining his glass of lemonade.

“It’s still a weapon,” he points out.

“Well, every kid should know how to use one at some point,” her mom explains. “Especially in this family.” Her grandfather opens his mouth, as if to protest, but seems to think the better of it and closes it. She slides the sword into its sheath, the weight against her hip somehow comforting.

“That’s so cool,” Lucas says, sitting at the bar next to where her dad put the box down. “Can I-”

“Absolutely not, Lucas!” her grandmother interrupts. “You still have the scar from your last sword related adventure.”

“Mom, Dad,” Hope says, after laughing just a little at Lucas. “Thank you, thank you so much.” She forgets stupid things like dignity and reputation and hugs them around the waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“We knew you’d like it, Cygnet,” her mom says, stroking her hair. “Now we can start real fighting lessons,” she whispers, out of earshot of her grandparents.” Hope grins and buries her face in her mom’s chest, making the group hug as tight as she possibly can. “And there’s one more…”

“Happy birthday to you!” Hope’s face floods red as she turns around to the entire diner serenading her. “Happy birthday, dear Hope!” Granny comes in from the kitchen with one of the waiters, carrying a towering three-layered chocolate cake, covered in different types of candy, with a 15 candle and a sparkler on the top. As it gets closer, she can see the intricate details on it; small marzipan bunnies and edible trees, a pumpkin sitting at the bottom and despite everything, she throws her head back and squeals in delight, her cheeks turning pink.

God damn it, she loves her family. Her crazy, huge family.

“Come on kid, blow out those candles,” Granny tells her. “Don’t want wax dripping onto that cake.”

“Make a wish, kid,” her mom tells her, pressing her lips to her head before letting her go. Hope steps up to it, the glow of the candles lighting up her face as she thinks about a wish, knowing not to waste it on something stupid like good grades or a pony.

A face catches her attention beside her and inspiration strikes.

I wish I could ask Melody out she thinks, blowing out the candle. The diner bursts into applause while Granny starts cutting the cake.

“Do I get to know what you wished for?” her mom asks, hugging her from behind.

“Of course not. I need it to come true,” she replies. She notices a small white card on the bottom of the cake and frowns, taking note of the cursive writing in silver. She steps out of her mom’s embrace and picks it up, wiping chocolate off it.

To Hope/Cygnet/Birthday Girl

So sorry I couldn’t be with you on your actual birthday. Unfortunately I’m tied up in LA on set. I wish I could be there to see you turning 15. Still, I hope the cake I ordered to be made from LA’s best chefs and sent to Storybrooke will satisfy until I get there.

Your big (always big) brother, Henry.

Hope turns to face her mom, raising an eyebrow.

“Did you know about this?” she asks, showing her the card.

“Not until this morning when he told me,” she replies, shrugging. “I’m sorry he couldn’t be here.”

“It’s fine,” Hope says. “Not his fault. And anyway… this is a pretty great present.”

“Yeah it is,” she chuckles. “Speaking of, why don’t you get in there before Lucas and Philip demolish it?” Hope turns around and nods. She knows from experience what they’re like with food. Plus it’s her cake and she’s determined to try every layer. She makes to run over to it but pauses in her tracks. She turns back to her mom, who is smiling at the little card Henry made her. Her mom, her funny, comforting mom who always knows what to say to her. Her mom, who got her the most amazing sword for her birthday and went out to get her chocolate chips specially and bought rainbow laces just last week like she knew Hope would be getting new sneakers.

“Hey mom?” she says, making her look up. She balls her hands into fists and sticks them in the pockets of her jacket. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Cygnet,” she says.

Smiling, and her heart pounding, Hope takes a more than generous slice of cake and slides into a booth with her friends, eating and laughing until her stomach hurts and then eating some more because she can, and no one is going to tell her no, setting up an impromptu tic tac toe tournament and doing stupid, food related dares.

She’s still a kid, after all.

[minchase-ingclouds]

𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ｌｅｆｔ, 𝕚 𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓎

╰ ♡ ✧ ˖ chae hyungwon. 25 he/him. have you seen charles “chase” min? they used to be so +confident before their heart got broken. now they just seem to be very -timid. i think it had something to do with (tw: abuse) his sugar mama emotionally/physically abusing him, but who knows how accurate that is. i know, we should get them hair dye to help cheer them up! maybe then they’ll start acting like fairy floss and cherry blossoms blooming.

basics

name: charles min

nicknames: chase, whatever nicknames his sister gives him, rosir (his sTriPPEr NamE)

age: 25

pronouns: he/him

sexuality: heterosexual (he thinks) ((but is actually bisexual)) (((he’s confused ok)))

tldr

traumatic childhood backstory etc in the bio below so if ur here from dee’s intro on ciel then jump down there hey

anyway bc of the traumatic childhood backstory, chase and his little sister ciel moved out when he turned 18 and she was 14/15ish

long story short he became a stripper to support them

when he was about 20, he met tiffany, a rich business woman who frequented his strip club because she thought he was stunning and had seen him on a night out with the girls

she wasn’t that old, maybe 7 or 8 years older than him, and approached him one night asking for a private session where she then asked if she could take him out on a proper date

they dated for a while and she became his sugar mama, asking him for sexual favours but paying for pretty much everything, EVERYTHING he wanted and even offering to pay for things for his little sister too (she was stubborn and refused tho)

only a few months ago, tiffany had an STI scare and insisted it must be chase’s fault bc - you’re a stripper, you’re a whore, i bet you cheated on me - and when he told her that no, he’d been loyal, and if she had cheated on him and had this scare then he thought they could work through it and stay together, she continued to grow more agitated and (tw:abuse) started to throw things and hit him

when his little sister found him in their lavish penthouse (courtesy of tiffany, ofc) he was covered in bruises and cuts

together, they decided to move to palm springs to a shitty little apartment since chase was done with tiffany, wasn’t going to use her credit card ever again or even speak to her again and now we’re here, his arm’s just healed after being broken but his heart still hurts and he kinda misses tiffany - after all, they were together for four years

bio

born in new york, new york, chase was a curse to his father from pretty much the moment he was born; with his mother dying in childbirth, his father had a love/hate relationship with him, since he reminded him so much of the wife he so loved but was also the very reason she was gone

when he was 4 his father remarried a woman named stacy who was pregnant with a little girl ( @cielmins )

speaking of ciel! if you are here because you were redirected by dee (thanks for palming this bit off to me btw sweetheart) then buckle up kiddos, cus we’re about to go for a RIDE

stacy was never all that nice to him, mostly put up with him because she loved his father, gerald or some other basic dude name

of course, stacy absolutely ADORED ciel, since she was her actual daughter, but chase never resented ciel - in fact, quite the opposite, since he adored her even more than their parents did

yes, chase is literally the most doting big brother that could ever exist, would move mountains for his baby sister if she asked (she would never ask because she’d figure out how to move the mountain herself), but that doesn’t stop the pair from being literally The Worst™ to each other and general public nuisances of the meme variety

side note - although nobody ever told ciel that she and chase aren’t related and are just step-siblings, she has a big brain and figured it out eventually (chase couldn’t be prouder of his genius little sister, although the difference in their ethnicities was probably the biggest tip off)

home life was not so great - stacy was constantly feeling undermined by gerald’s first wife, knowing he would always love her just that little bit more, and the more insecure she felt, the more she’d take it out on chase, and the meaner she was to chase, the more distant gerald was towards her and to ciel. it was kind of a cycle.

just before chase’s 18th birthday, ciel pointed out that they could run away, just the two of them, and take care of each other like they always do. her big brain pointed out that as an 18 year old, he could be her legal guardian

so, at 14ish (maybe 15? idk how old ciel is tbh) and 18, the pair moved out

when it became apparent that they weren’t coming back, stacy and gerald said fuck it, got a divorce since they were really only together for the kids at that point anyway, and ciel and chase were pretty much independent from then on

he and ciel even adopted a kitty named mayonnaise britney spears min - but you can call her may for short

as two teenagers they uhhh weren’t so great in the funds department and chase took it upon himself to provide for them so that ciel could focus on her studies - sacrificing his own education, he put himself through odd jobs here and there until one day shortly after his 19th he was approached by someone who told him he’d be great at ‘twilight modelling’

turns out by ‘twilight modelling’ they meant hhhh stripping

well, one look at ciel’s immaculate report card and the pleased twinkle in her eyes when she started talking about scholarships and college and stuff, chase was absolutely fuckin gone and knew he’d do anything to keep that look on his baby sister’s face so - hoo boy, here we go, ya boi turned to stripping

it actually took him a while to let ciel know, he told her he was, well, twilight modelling because he didn’t want her to know, but when she did eventually find out about one and a half years later, she help him come up with his rad stripper name - Rosir, because it’s french for ‘pink sky’ which matches ciel’s name, but also ‘the colour you turn when you’re embarrassed’, which suits him

a year into stripping, he meets tiffanny, and yk, all that stuff in the tldr, she pays for all his loans, buys him all his fancy designer brands, gives him plenty of allowance (which ya boi saves cus he’s not an idiot), even buys him a car and opens up her penthouse for the two of them

of course, when shit hits the fan, he has to give up his fancy car and leave the penthouse with ciel, now the two of them live in a shitty little apartment in palm springs because he doesn’t want to blow al their savings and since his arm was kinda uhhhh broken after the ordeal, he’s only just been able to get back into stripping (since he stil isn’t qualified for anything)

(tw:emotional abuse) before he started dating tiffany, he was pretty sure he was bisexual. tiffany had him confused for years because she told him that liking it up the ass didn’t mean he was gay and he could enjoy bottoming for a woman without being bisexual; he was totally straight, she would insist, and he started to believe that and to this day he struggles with whether or not he’s straight or bisexual because he knows he finds men attractive, but he isn’t sure if he would date one --> this was a form of emotional abuse that went on for literal YEARS

(tw:emotional abuse) should i mention that tiffany was kinda lowkey the worst and also tried to convince him to stop being a stripper several times? things like “you don’t have to strip, you’re basically my personal prostitute baby” and “you don’t need an education, i’ll always be here to provide for you, you’re all mine baby boy” and when she’s mad uhhh “you’re my little whore, got it? no one else’s” so............. yh let’s just say ciel wasn’t a fan but chase, well, he was blinded by those hearts in his eyes

but don’t feel too bad for him! chase actually kinda likes stripping now, thinks it’s made him feel much more confident with himself and his body, having always felt maybe he was too gangly and thin and awkward, and he likes the feeling he gets when people can’t take their eyes off of him

despite the fact that he’s a stripper, he’s actually real sweet and innocent. has only had sex with tiffany, has never even kissed a guy and hasn’t even really kissed many other girls except for a few awkward dates he’s had here and there - most he’s done is private dances for paying customers

anddddddddd now that he’s been saving, and is finally free of tiffany and of his shit ass parents, with encouragement from ciel, ya boi has finally, finally started college

it’s a little scary since he’s older than most of the people in his classes, but he’s studying to become a kindegarten teacher and cannot wait for the day that he can hang up his lacy black garters and pick up a whiteboard marker

so, still stripping and working part-time as a waiter to pay the bills, chase is starting a new chapter of his life (signified by his brand new pink hair, courtesy of ciel), and whilst he doesn’t know what the future has in store for him, he’s ready to face it with a big smile and with his baby sister (aka his favourite person in the whole wide world) by his side

wanted connections

well hello beautiful people! if you’re still here, i must say, i’m rather impressed, so without further ado let’s get into this

ride or die best friend - chase only met this binch after moving to palm springs, but they happened to see him entering the strip club and figured out he worked there and, uhh, with persistence and a promise not to tell anyone, they became great friends and probably visit his shitty apartment to play with may and piss off ciel all the time

classmates - everyone needs a study buddy! if u got an ugli in college, throw em his way

gay awakening - now, chase isn’t necessarily going to date this person or even develop feelings, but as a beautiful man he’s going to turn chase’s sexuality upside down and cement his suspicions that yes, he is bisexual no matter what tiffany said (taken: moon jisoo)

honestly open to anything! hmu if you have any plots you’d like to chuck at him or any you’d like to fulfil <3

signing off for now,

yours faithfully

mich 

[lets-talk-appella]

Come Home to Me

Summary: Beca is late for dinner, and it really shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s just that Chloe has a weird feeling about it. As time ticks on without any sign of Beca, Chloe starts to worry.

It’s a little darker than what I’ve done in the past, and there’s not really any comic relief. Just a fair heads up. 

Word Count: 3.2k

AO3 and FFN

Beca’s late. Chloe checks the time on her phone for the fourth time in as many minutes to again confirm that yes, Beca is late for dinner. She should have been home before 6:00, and it is now 6:18.

It wouldn’t really be a problem, except the ravioli is starting to get soggy even though she’d turned down the heat several times. Ravioli is Beca’s favorite, and Chloe made it to butter up her wife before attempting to broach an important topic of conversation with her.

Chloe prods the pasta hopefully with a spoon, only for it to tear open on contact. Yep. It’s more than done. Sighing, she reaches to the overhead cabinet for a strainer, only to be greeted by a blender. She blinks. Then, she remembers; they’d put the strainer above the sink, not above the stove like it had been in the old apartment they’d shared with Amy.

She moves to the sink to pull down the strainer, a little annoyed with herself for not yet having the hang of the layout of the kitchen. Sure, they’d only lived in their half of the duplex for three weeks, but she should at least know where stuff is.

Then again, her mind has been otherwise occupied as of late.

She pulls down the strainer and sets it in the sink, letting some cold water run next to it. She returns to the stovetop for the pasta and drains it into the strainer, turning her face away from the rising cloud of steam. The ravioli flops out of the pan to land limply in the strainer. Chloe grimaces at it. If her wife had been on time, this wouldn’t have been an issue… but oh well. Beca isn’t a picky eater.

Chloe carries the ravioli over to the table, grabbing the sauce pan from the stove on her way. She sets everything down and takes her usual seat at the table, again glancing at her phone. 6:25. She gets a weird fluttering in her stomach and she shifts in her chair uneasily as she places her phone face-up next to her plate.

Beca’s commute from Brooklyn isn’t that long, but Chloe knows the traffic still makes her nervous. She’d simply walked to and from work when they’d lived in Brooklyn, but now that they’re farther in the suburbs, Beca has to drive. And it’s not that Beca’s a bad driver (she’s actually a pretty good driver), it’s just that Chloe knows she can be a little reckless and impatient. She tends to drive rather quickly and assertively (though she is much more cautious when Chloe is in the car with her).

Chloe dishes herself out some of the pasta, being sure to save a good amount for Beca. She chases it around her plate with her fork, suddenly not feeling particularly hungry. She finds herself glancing out the window at their empty driveway with increasing frequency.

Beca really should have been home by now.

Chloe exhales slowly through her nose, trying to soothe herself. It’s probably nothing. Traffic must be a little heavy, or maybe she got caught up with a particularly demanding client; some of those music artists can be a little insane. It wouldn’t be the first time.

It’s just.

Beca usually would have called or texted her. They had decided early in their relationship that if one of them was running late, they’d let the other know. It had been Chloe’s idea and Beca had readily agreed. Even if she was only going to be five minutes late, she’d tell Chloe about it without fail.

Chloe’s eyes again shift to her phone. Nothing.

The uneasy feeling in her stomach builds, rising to her throat. She swallows, hard.

Their pasta is no longer hot, but Chloe can’t eat any of it anyway.

Maybe she should just call Beca. Her hand is reaching for her phone as soon as the thought forms, only for her to snatch it back. If Beca’s driving – no, Beca is driving, there’s no “if” – then a phone call might distract her and do more harm than good. Besides, Chloe doesn’t want to be that nagging wife. They’ve only been married for ten months, so surely, it’s too soon to become a nag?

Besides, it hasn’t even really been that long.

Except. Now it’s 6:37.

Chloe sits, torn, biting her lip. A text wouldn’t hurt. It certainly wouldn’t be enough to distract Beca from her driving. She picks up her phone and types out a simple “On the way?” to Beca and watches as it sends. There.

Chloe knows she’s being silly. New York traffic is unpredictable. If only she didn’t feel so…off about it all, then it wouldn’t be a problem.

She stares down at her dinner, barely touched. The thought of eating more makes her stomach roll, so she picks up her plate and stands to take it to the sink.

The text had done nothing to calm her nerves; if anything, it made her more anxious, her ears straining for the sound of the text notification and Beca’s reply. Beca usually responds within minutes, unless she’s working with a client.

Chloe scrapes her plate into a container for leftovers, puts it in the fridge, then places her dishes in the sink. Her shoulders feel stiff; maybe Beca could give her a massage when she gets home. Chloe’s hands grasp the edge of the counter, her knuckles turning white. She stands at the sink, her eyes staring at nothing out the kitchen window. She finds herself thinking “Please,” over and over again, her heart rate increasing with the mantra.

Beca should have been home nearly an hour ago.

Chloe’s phone chimes.

She whirls and lunges for her phone at the table. Her hip collides with the back of the chair she’d been sitting in, but she barely feels the impact and doesn’t even flinch when the chair is sent to the floor with a bang.

Even before she unlocks her phone with shaking fingers, though, her brain registers that it hadn’t been her text notification tone. She can’t immediately associate an app with the chime, but nevertheless she’s sure it has something to do with her absent wife. She knows it in her bones.

Which is why the emergency news notification hits her like a kick to the stomach.

The alert flashes at her, the text in all caps in combination with her anxiety making it hard for her to read.

BREAKING: 5:53pm…EXPLOSION ON US I-495 (LONG ISLAND EXPRESSWAY) LEAVING BROOKLYN MARKER 29… GAS CARRIER TIPPED…SEVERAL CARS INVOLVED…FATALITIES AND INJURIES TO BE CONFIRMED…BLAST RADIUS 30 YARDS…EXPECT DELAY

Beca takes that route home after work. And the time of the explosion would line up with her commute.

Chloe feels the blood drain from her face. She’s suddenly woozy and sits down hard on the floor.

Oh, God, Beca, please don’t have been there. Please have passed it already or have been behind it, anything, please don’t have been driving right next to it.

Chloe squeezes her eyes shut tightly. She can picture it happening. She can clearly see in her mind’s eye: Beca driving right next to the gas hauler as it tips. Beca jerking the wheel reflexively, only to run off the road or into someone else or anywhere still in the blast radius. Beca’s car, burning.

Chloe regrets eating what little pasta she did as nausea rolls over her. Pure, undiluted terror coils in her stomach as the earth lurches. Her hands are numb and she can’t move and she’s gasping for air because she can’t breathe and she can’t think and dear God not Beca please not Beca not Beca not Beca –

A realization breaks through her panic and Chloe bolts up to her feet, the abruptness of her motion making her see spots. A trembling hand drops to her stomach as adrenaline shoots into her limbs.

She’s not pregnant. Not yet. But she had been planning on talking to Beca about having kids. It’s why she’d made her favorite meal, to help ease what would surely be a surprise. Chloe wants to carry Beca’s baby. She wants it more than anything.

But – Beca isn’t there.

Chloe sways on the spot. Oh God. What if – ?

The unthinkable snaps Chloe from her panic and she inhales deeply, sitting down at Beca’s usual spot at the table. No, she tells herself, calm down, it’s a breaking story. Beca’s fine. She’s just held up in the traffic delay.

Chloe doesn’t believe herself. She calls Beca, her fingers still trembling and stomach still rolling.

“Hey, it’s Beca Mitchell-Beale, sorry about missing your call. You know what to do at the beep.”

Rather than ringing, her call is sent straight to voicemail. A chill strokes down Chloe’s spine. She hangs up without leaving a message and immediately tries again.

No ring tone. Straight to voicemail.

Why do phones do that, again? Only when they’re off or broken? If Beca’s phone is somehow broken, then where…?

Chloe swallows the panic she feels spreading through her body and tries for the third time. Then a fourth. The sound of Beca’s voicemail message drags a strangled cry from her throat and her body hunches over the table.

She leaves a message the fifth time, because she has to do something.

“Bec. Where are you? Please, just – just call me, or text, or something, okay? Please,” her voice breaks. “I saw that there was an – an accident. Just, please, tell me you’re okay. Tell me you’re on the way.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath before whispering, “I love you. So, so much.”

She waits, unable to hang up, fighting against the urge to say more. How could she possibly fit all she needs to say to her wife into a voicemail?

After a minute of silence, Beca’s voicemail runs out of patience with her and cuts off abruptly. She presses the phone to her hear, staring at the opposite wall. She feels absent from her own body. Dreamy, almost. She wonders vaguely if she’s dissociating.

Her phone chimes again, this time clearly a text notification. Heart in her throat, she pulls the phone from her ear to stare at the screen, hoping to see Beca’s name. For the first time in her life, she’s utterly disappointed to see that she has a message from Aubrey.

Saw the news. Are you and Beca okay?

Chloe doesn’t bother replying. It’s not from Beca, and she has no idea how to answer it. Because no. She’s not okay. She won’t be okay until Beca comes home to her. Besides, she needs to keep the line open, just in case Beca fixes her phone.

But it seems that the other former Bellas disagree, because Amy texts her next.

I texted Shawshank, but she didn’t reply. You two good?

The message has her on her feet in an instant, pacing tightly around the table. She needs to move, needs to stand, needs to do something other than think about how Beca isn’t getting back to anyone because her phone is broken.

That’s all it is. Beca’s phone is broken and she’s going to walk through the door at any second and they’ll go to the store and buy her a new one. Because Beca’s okay. Beca has to be okay.

Her phone goes off for a third time and Chloe barely glances at it before growling in frustration. It’s Stacie.

Hey you both okay? I heard about the truck

Chloe’s legs are shaking. She knows she should sit down but can’t seem to make her body follow her command. Her head is floaty, filled with helium, and her stomach twists every time she glances out the window to the still-empty driveway.

She’s never felt so alone in her life.

Her mind spirals and she wonders if she should call the police or the local hospitals to ask about Beca. But then, she is Beca’s emergency contact; they’ll call her first.

Helplessness washes over her in waves. She doesn’t know what to do besides wait for Beca. She attempts to steel herself. She’d waited for Beca for years before; she can wait again now.

Her phone chimes yet again and she looks at it hopefully only to see another, more worried message from Aubrey. Knowing that she can’t postpone it anymore, Chloe opens the Bellas group chat.

I’m at home. Beca commuting from work. She’s not here yet. I’ll keep you posted.

She figures that’s enough for now and can’t bear typing anymore, despite the torrent of messages that starts to come through in response. She ignores them, reserving her attention for Beca and only Beca.

Needing to do something, anything, she turns on their TV to the news in hopes of seeing more coverage of the blast. Sure enough, the anchors are talking about it, their voices overlaid on aerial shots of the accident. Chloe gapes at the screen – it looks horrible. The fire isn’t out yet and traffic is nearly at a standstill behind it. Cars are strewn across the road. Her heart lurches at the words flashing on the scrolling banner at the bottom: “Eight fatalities confirmed so far.”

They aren’t releasing names yet.

She drops to their couch, leaning her head forward into her hands and fighting hard to keep from losing herself completely. Everything is happening so fast. One minute, she was prepping their dinner and now she doesn’t know if she’ll ever see Beca again.

She’d been so looking forward to starting a family with Beca. A sob tears its way from Chloe’s chest; what if they never get the chance?

She tries desperately to cling to hope. Beca can’t be gone. She can’t. Chloe would have felt it, surely.

Wouldn’t she know if Beca had been ripped from her? Wouldn’t she have felt it in her soul?

Her mom had known the instant Chloe’s dad had died in the car accident.

Chloe remembers it as if it were yesterday. She had been fourteen. She and her brother had been sitting in the family room, watching TV together when they’d heard the crash from the kitchen. They’d run out to see their mom standing in the middle of the room, the bowl she’d dropped shattered on the floor. She’d clutched her chest and dropped to her knees, agony in her eyes.

They had panicked, had begged their mom to say what was wrong, but she had just shaken her head wordlessly. Fifteen minutes later, the hospital called. Her dad had died on impact with a semi-truck on the highway.

Chloe’s mom hadn’t needed the call. She’d known. She’d felt his death the moment it had happened.

Wouldn’t it be the same with Beca?

Chloe had been feeling weird but hadn’t felt the excruciating pain that her mom had felt at the instant of her dad’s passing. Surely, that meant Beca was okay? That she hadn’t… died? Beca couldn’t have died.

Chloe would know. Because Beca being torn away from her would be unimaginably agonizing.

Chloe tells herself that repeatedly as she sits, struggling against the fear threatening to overtake her. She would know. Beca is okay. She would know. And, therefore, Beca is okay. She chants to herself, over and over, until it’s all she can hear.

Until the jingle of keys snaps her eyes open and jolts her off the couch.

A second later, the door swings and Beca walks in, looking exhausted.

“Bec!” Relief floods Chloe as she lunges forward, throwing her arms around Beca’s body and pulling her close. She tucks her nose into Beca’s shoulder and inhales her familiar scent deeply, reveling in the warm, solid presence in her arms. She doesn’t realize she’s crying and shaking until the force of her sobs makes Beca stumble.

Beca clings onto her just as tightly in return, immediately securing Chloe to her. Chloe feels Beca’s lips press into her shoulder and the side of her neck, Beca saying frantically between kisses, “I’m okay, I’m okay, everything is okay.”

Chloe pulls away to wipe her eyes before crashing her lips onto Beca’s, her hands on Beca’s cheeks, kissing her as if her life depends on it. Because for a minute there, she didn’t think she’d ever get to do that again. The force of it makes Beca stumble back a step before regaining solid footing.

As soon as they break apart, Beca’s talking again, staring into her still-watering eyes. “I’m so sorry, Chlo, my phone died, and I didn’t have my charger. I’m so, so sorry.”

Beyond words, Chloe traces her fingers over Beca’s face, needing to reassure herself of her presence. Then, she pulls pack to swat Beca’s arm with as much force as she can muster.

“Ouch! What the hell –”

“Beca, how dare you not have your charger? I was so scared! I thought you were blown up, or in a ditch, or –”

“I know, I’m so sorry,” Beca cuts her off with a hand on her cheek. “I was behind it, leaving Brooklyn when I saw it tip up ahead. I had to wait in traffic but couldn’t text you and –”

Chloe hugs her again, beyond thankful that Beca had only been stuck in traffic around the accident. But still. If she’d seen the truck tip, she’d been close. Much too close.

“God. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispers into Beca’s hair.

Beca squeezes her extra tightly. “You’ll never have to find out. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chloe lets out a shaky breath and doesn’t respond. She knows that no one can promise what Beca just did. Not really. But she appreciates it and hopes it’s true.

She pulls away after a moment and again wipes at her eyes. She needs to think about something else for a while. “Um, I made dinner, but it’s probably not any good anymore.”

Beca glances at the table, her tired expression relaxing at the sight of her favorite meal. “Oh, ravioli, too. I’ll microwave it? It’ll still be good.”

Chloe nods, suddenly ravenous. Everything feels okay now that Beca’s home safely.

As Beca fills her plate at the table then moves to the microwave, Chloe goes to their couch to pick up her phone. Unlocking it, she types out a message to the Bellas, who are becoming increasingly frantic.

Beca’s back home, we’re both safe now. Sorry to worry you guys.

She turns off the screen and watches her wife heat up her dinner. Beca, as if feeling eyes on her, turns to send Chloe a soft, loving smile. Chloe grins back, the terror of the evening nothing more than a bad memory. She spares a thought to how lucky they are; that accident had taken the lives of others.

“I think I’ll stay home from work tomorrow,” Beca says casually as she takes her food from the microwave.

Chloe nods her agreement, knowing that Beca is doing it for her sake. The vet clinic she works at is closed the next day, so she’ll be home as well. The time together will be good for them. They need to recover.

Plus, it’ll give them time to talk about kids….

[tonystarkssnipples]

March Fic Recs

Special Spotlight/Fic of the Month:

almeno tu nell'universo by silkspectred Rating: E Word Count: 55,846 (in progress)

Tony drives off.

Well, he wants to.

But he can’t.

Because.

Steve Rogers is in front of his car.

Steve fucking Rogers. Is in front of Tony’s fucking car.

Angst:

love the sin, love the sinner by silkspectred Rating: E Word Count: 10,585

It keeps happening. Not often, just once or twice a month, but it keeps happening. Always in the same way: it’s unplanned, sudden, unexpected, Steve is surprised and eager, his dick goes from zero to one hundred in two seconds, Tony’s touch is electric, everything he does drives Steve crazy, but he never lets Steve kiss him, he very rarely looks Steve in the eye, he never talks, never makes a sound when he comes, never mentions it later.

rough enough for love by silkspectred Rating: E Word Count: 14,562

The first time they had sex was right after their first kiss. Steve dropped to his knees and then Tony reciprocated after making Steve lie down on the bed. The second time it was Steve that initiated it, slow handjobs under the hot spray of the shower, and Tony looked surprised by it. Like it was weird that Steve wanted it. Wanted him.

coffee by romanoff Rating: N/R Word Count: 10,585

Coffee shop AU that’s not an AU.

In which Clint works behind the counter, Tony is a regular and Steve is the new guy who only goes in for one cup but can’t stop coming back for the coffee. He says it’s the coffee. Spoiler alert: It’s not. It’s Tony.

“Why do you come here?”

Tony thinks.

“It’s small. Tucked away. No one notices it. I like that,” he smiles, laughs a little “I like that it’s kinda just… ignored. You only notice it when you really need it.”

“Like when you need shelter from the rain,” Steve says

“Or coffee.” Tony finishes with a smile.

“Or coffee.” Steve finishes with a sigh.

As Time Goes By by Stonyinspirationwriter Rating: N/R Word Count: 3,798

Tony was fifteen years older than Steve. They weren’t supposed to get married. They should have never gotten together in the first place. They should have continued on their separate ways. Steve should have let go, but he didn’t. Tony should have let go, but he couldn’t. He also couldn’t be sorry for the wonderful life they had built together, and all the moments he had spent at Steve’s side. The real question was, though, was whether Steve could ever be prepared to let go of him?

Lost in Transcription by Veldia Rating: T Word Count: 25,267

In a world recently turned upside down by the discovery of genetic markers for soulmates, Steve and Tony struggle to come to grips with their unexpected, unasked-for match.

We Are Far Too Young and Clever by laudatenium Rating: E Word Count: 21,572

In his head, he knew Tony was still a kid. Suffering from shell shock and whatever emotional abuse Howard had managed to put him through.

But even with that, Tony somehow rose above it all to become extraordinary.

He was a teammate, a genius, and a friend. He was terribly mature for his age. Tony was Iron Man, not Iron Boy.

Despite everything, there still stood an age difference of ten or seventy-six years, depending on your calculation.

But his heart was telling him not to listen.

----

AU where Tony becomes Iron Man at 16, an Avenger at 17, and Steve's . . . infatuation at 18.

Take That Off, What Are You? by imafriendlydalek Rating: M Word Count: 6,494

There had been a lot of things Steve had seen on his trip across America that he hadn’t expected, but if there had been one thing he certainly would never have thought would happen, it would have been falling into bed with Tony Stark.

Of course, like everything between them, it isn't exactly smooth sailing after that. Especially when the Mandarin shows up.

Bereavement by nightwalker Rating: T Words: 3,786

She sets her clipboard down on her lap and folds her hands over it. “I am very sorry for your loss, Agent Rogers.”

All-Time Low by Sineala Rating: E Words: 12,060

Tony's lost his company to Obadiah Stane. He's lost it all: his money, his friends, his Avengers team... and his sobriety. Drunk, homeless, Tony is living on the streets, and when he runs out of liquor money, he sells the only thing he has left: his body. And one day, he has the exact wrong customer.

Post CA:CW Fix-it

shelter from the storm by silspectred Rating: M Word Count: 5,228

Tony adopts a baby. Guess who's Majorly Fucked Up™ about it.

Post CA:CW Not a Fix-it:

Some Great Reward by Kiyaar Rating: E Word Count: 5,348

After the events of Captain America: Civil War, Tony and Steve come to an agreement. It doesn't involve affection.

PWP/Smut:

Told You Dirty Jokes Until You Smiled by ChibiSquirt Rating: E Word Count: 3,872 (in progress)

Steve was waiting at light, casually checking out the man in the car behind him, when his phone pinged.

Coffee and Company, or Fate by kiminsocks Rating: E Word Count: 7,104

Tony ditches his New Year's party and stops for coffee, makes a friend, and thinks maybe he wants to take him home, just this once.

My Blue Heaven by Kiyaar Rating: E Word Count: 939

his for allthewonderfulstony, who won my birthday giveaway and wanted "all kinds of smut." And love, there's some love, too.

Most Faithful Mirror by Kiyaar Rating: E Word Count: 4,815

Written for 10 Years of Steve/Tony! (circa 2012).

After the events of Fear Itself, Tony is in rough shape. Feelings and porn ensue.

Fluff:

Flowers Are (Not) Mandatory by izazov Rating: G Word Count: 4,526

Tony is not freaking out over his upcoming date with Steve Rogers. Okay, maybe he is. But only a little.

In Vino Veritas by izazov Rating: G Word Count: 3,088

Tony puts his foot in his mouth. Steve gets drunk. One is rather common. The other, not so much.

leaving everything behind (but you) by MusicalLuna Rating: E Word Count: 4,432

For their anniversary, Tony tells Steve to name his fantasy.

Steve never fails to surprise (or delight) him.

My Shellhead (the Auction-bot remix) by ChibiSquirt Rating: T Word Count: 1,389

Steve puts himself up for auction. Tony makes sure he's the highest bidder.

Moonlight And Love Songs by IndigoNight Rating: G Word Count: 1,660

In which Tony is old, cranky, and jealous. But luckily, Steve knows exactly what to do.

Poker Night by Neverever Rating: T Word Count: 5,146

When Tony convinces Steve to play a game of strip poker, Steve isn't sure what they are playing for or what exactly Tony is after.

Written for Project Happy Steve.

Aus:

No Powers/Modern:

Feed the Body, Nourish the Soul by copperbadge Rating: T Word Count: 6,542

Steve Rogers just wanted to sell good, nourishing, cheap food from his food truck. Now the crazy fusion chefs from TOBRU are calling him a hipster, the avant garde restaurant "Shield" across the street has declared war on chains, and...well, then there's Thor, who thinks Steve's habit of licking food is weird.

Love in the Dark by mombasas Rating: E Word Count: 6,918

The guy who lives in the apartment next to Steve's is a nocturnal sex addict with a complete lack of volume control, and Steve's not going to take that lying down. Or, well.

(Neighbors-with-a-shared-bedroom-wall AU in which Steve and Tony get into a not-so-passive passive-aggressive sex war, despite never having actually met.)

take heart by starvels (dinosaur) Rating: T Word Count: 8,904 (series)

Steve and Tony fall in love at first sight. This is a selection of lines in their verse. This is their happily ever after.

Coffee Shop:

With You Around by pensversuswords Rating: T Word Count: 6,666

"I'd like to know you."

Tony works in a coffee shop where Steve spends a lot of his time, because it's the perfect place to draw. Then, he starts to talk to Tony, and he finds himself coming in for a different reason.

Coffee Shop Love by inukagome15 Rating: G Word Count: 4,302

Tony Stark did not like coffee shops, but he could make an exception for the one with the cute barista who had smiles that were to die for. If only Steve wasn't so unattainable...

Never Insult Your Barista by Heartihateyou Rating: G Word Count: 807

Tony grabs the wrong drink at a coffee shop and meets someone who's ridiculously handsome and has ridiculously bad taste in coffee.

Watcha Writing? by DaftPunk_DeLorean Rating: M Word Count: 7333

Steve is a starving artist who gets by as an author of erotica and adult fantasies. Tony is the dashingly handsome owner of the coffee shop where Steve spends all his time writing, and who also happens to be Steve's full-time muse. Steve's stories involve adventure, romance, steamy sex, and most importantly, Tony. But writing lusty fantasies about his muse was one thing; falling helplessly, hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with him was something entirely different.

Fantasy:

surely, to the sea by goodmorningbeloved Rating: T Word Count: 3,373

Steve brings him home on a drizzling Friday afternoon. Sarah Rogers takes a deep breath, remembers all he's told her and all she's done to prepare, and opens the door.

High school:

What We Deserve by Wordsplat Rating: T Word Count: 4,068

Tony is certain he knows exactly what's going on between him and Steve. (Spoiler alert: he doesn't.)

College:

The Billionaire Hooker’s Deceived Artist by tsukinofaerii Rating: E Words: 27,996 Note: this is literally a fandom classic and if you haven’t read it, do so NOW

During Tony's senior year at MIT, his partying habit finally hit the edge of his parents' patience. When Howard and Maria cut him off from his usual sources of money, he decides to turn to less conventional ones.

Mafia:

Make Tomorrow’s World Better (Through Any Means Necessary) by Faillen Rating: T Word Count: 11,227 (Series)

When Tony Stark finds out about Obadiah Stane’s double dealing, he seeks out the Captain, the only man in New York that has a team with the resources and ability to take down HYDRA—the neo-Nazi gang Stane’s been selling to. Acting as an informant under the alias Iron Man, Tony finds out a few months later that the Captain is actually his sweet-as-pie boyfriend, Steve Rogers. In order to take down Stane and HYDRA, they work together (along with the Avengers, the gang that Steve leads) with Tony focusing dragging Stane’s betrayal out of the shadows and Steve trying to destroy HYDRA—and Johann Schmidt—once and for all. But close-call assassination attempts and politics with the NYPD throw a wrench in not only in their plans, but also in their relationship, leaving them both wondering if sacrificing everything for tomorrow’s world is really worth it.

It's really not that dark, to be honest, this was just an excuse for me to write some secret identity humor. It got plotty without my permission.