#How much to wrap a car in houston

[carwrapshouston]

How Much is a Car Wrap in Texas?

The car wrapping industry in Texas, particularly in its bustling metropolis, Houston, has witnessed significant growth over recent years. Not only does a car wrap redefine aesthetics, but it's also an ingenious method for businesses to advertise. But, what's the damage to the wallet?

The Popularity of Houston Car Wraps

Driving through Houston, one can't help but notice the stunning array of wrapped vehicles—be it flashy advertisements on delivery vans or personalized design masterpieces on sports cars. The culture of vehicle wraps in Houston is more than a passing trend; it's an expression, a marketing tool, and a testament to the city's evolving car culture.

Factors Determining Car Wraps Houston Pricing

While many ask, "How much to wrap a car in Houston?" the answer isn't straightforward. Factors such as vehicle size, the intricacy of design, and especially the quality of materials (like the renowned 3m vinyl wrap Houston) play pivotal roles.

A Look into Car Wrap Cost

Diving deeper into the car wrap cost Houston reveals varying figures. And, while you may come across offers for a cheap car wrap in Houston, it's crucial to understand that sometimes, you get what you pay for.

Specialty Wraps: Trucks, Vans, and More

Truck wraps Houston, for instance, might come at a steeper price due to their sheer size. Similarly, a commercial auto wrap Houston for businesses could be pricier due to branding complexities and the need for long-lasting impressions.

The Convenience Factor: Finding a Car Wrap Near Me

Isn't it more convenient when what you're searching for is just around the corner? This is the advantage of a localized service. With options like Houston vehicle wrap, locals can easily find quality services in their vicinity.

Delving into the Details of Car Wrap Cost Houston

A mosaic of factors influences the cost. However, with renowned services like vinyl wrapping in houston, quality assurance is a given, even if it comes at a premium.

Custom Auto Wrapping Houston TX: A Unique Touch

For those wanting to stand out, custom auto wrapping Houston tx offers a personalized touch, ensuring your vehicle mirrors your personality, albeit at varying costs.

Saving with Deals and Financing

Pricey wrap? No worries. Platforms like Bayou Graphics offer financing options, ensuring your vehicle gets the makeover it deserves without burning a hole in your pocket.

Showcasing Excellence: A Gallery Peek

For inspiration or just plain admiration, the wrap gallery showcases some of the finest work in Houston, proving that when it comes to car wraps, the city is leagues ahead.

Maintaining Your Car Wrap

With an investment in aesthetics, maintenance is key. Gentle cleaning, avoiding harsh chemicals, and regular checks can prolong the life and look of your wrap.

Conclusion

Houston's vibrant car wrap scene isn't just about the glitz; it's a blend of art, advertising, and personal expression. While costs vary, quality assurance from reputed wrap shops ensures value for every penny spent.

FAQs

How long does a standard car wrap last?

Typically, a quality car wrap can last anywhere from 5 to 7 years with proper care.

Is it cheaper to wrap or paint a car?

While wrapping is generally more cost-effective initially, long-term maintenance costs should be considered.

Can I remove my car wrap?

Yes, car wraps are designed to be removable without damaging the original paint.

Does car wrapping offer any protection to the car's paint?

Absolutely! A wrap can act as a protective layer against minor scratches and UV rays.

How long does it take to wrap a car?

Depending on the vehicle size and wrap complexity, it can take anywhere from 1 to 5 days.

[deansbeer]

★ soup, snuggles, and mr. wiggles // beau arlen.

synopsis. you're sick during a visit to montana, but your dad, comes to the rescue with chicken star soup, snacks, and your old childhood stuffed bear, reminding you that you're never too old to be cared for.

warning(s). fluffy fluff fluff | older daughter!reader | caregiving dad beau | mild illness (stomach bug) | nausea | fatigue | father-daughter bonding | nostalgia | childhood memories (beloved stuffed bear & favorite soup).

kari yaps. i love my pretty cowboy sheriff sososo much && literally don't have anything written for him + this idea was perfect for beau, because one im an older sister / daughter myself & two my brain was wired up @ 2am ???? n i took that opportunity to write. but i only got halfway & BARELY got to finishing it 2day.

you knew it was a bad idea the second you bit into the chicken sandwich. something about it tasted... off, but you hadn't eaten at all during your flight from houston to montana, and your stomach didn't give you much of a choice. by the time you arrived at the airbnb you rented, you were already feeling the first signs of regret—your stomach twisting uncomfortably, your body heavy with fatigue. you chalked it up to exhaustion from the drive, but when you woke up the next morning, nausea hit you like a freight train.

you'd planned today for weeks—just you and your dad, a father-daughter day he'd been talking about nonstop since you told him you were visiting. he'd even promised emily she'd get her turn after you left because, as he put it, "this one's special. just me and my girl." and now, lying on the couch of your airbnb, wrapped in a blanket, you felt guilt gnawing at you because there was no way you could keep those plans. your stomach rolled again, and you groaned, reaching for your phone to call him.

"hey, sweetheart," he answered on the first ring, his voice bright with excitement. "you ready for me to pick you up? i've got the whole day mapped out—breakfast, a little fishing, and maybe we can stop by that trail you liked last time."

you winced, both at the enthusiasm in his voice and the wave of nausea that hit you. "uh, about that…"

he instantly picked up on your tone. "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you said quickly, even though your voice was weak. "i just… i don't think i can make it today. i'm not feeling great."

"not feeling great how?" his voice lost its lightness, replaced by concern.

"it's nothing, dad. probably just something i ate. i just need to rest, that's all."

there was a pause, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. "where are you staying again? that little airbnb by the creek?"

"dad, no, you don't have to—"

"i'll be there in twenty," he said firmly, already moving. "and don't even think about arguing with me."

you sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to stop him. "fine. okay, dad."

"what kind of dad would i be if i didn’t take care of my girl when she's sick?" he said, his voice softening. "sit tight, sweetheart. i'll be there soon."

true to his word, twenty minutes later, you heard the familiar rumble of his car pulling into the driveway. you managed to shuffle to the door, opening it just as he walked up, two large grocery bags in his hands and a determined look on his face.

"you look terrible," he said bluntly, though the warmth in his eyes softened the blow. "not that you're not still the prettiest thing i've ever seen."

"thanks, dad," you muttered, stepping aside to let him in. "just what every girl wants to hear."

he set the bags on the counter and turned to you, his hands on his hips. "all right, let's see what we've got here. crackers, ginger ale, that soup you used to love when you were little—chicken and stars, remember that?—and some popsicles, because you'd always ask for those when you were sick. oh, and a heating pad, in case you've got chills."

you felt a lump rise in your throat as you watched him unpack everything, his movements quick and efficient. he was always like this when you were a kid—hands-on, attentive, making sure you had everything you needed even when life got chaotic. and now, standing in your little airbnb kitchen, he looked just the same, though his beard was a little grayer and the lines around his eyes a little deeper.

"dad, you didn't have to do all this," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

he glanced at you, his expression softening. "yeah, i did. you're my kid, darlin'. it doesn't matter if you're five or twenty-five, i'm always gonna take care of you."

you blinked rapidly, willing the tears not to fall. "i suppose you're right."

he gave you a small smile before turning back to the bags. "and because i know you're gonna get crabby—don't deny it, you've always been a little bear when you're under the weather—I brought backup.” he pulled out a small stuffed bear, its brown fur worn and familiar. "found this guy in one of the storage boxes last week and figured you might need him."

you let out a surprised laugh, reaching for the bear. "oh my god, is this… is this mr. wiggles?"

"the one and only," he said, grinning. "thought he'd been retired, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

you hugged the bear to your chest, shaking your head. "you're ridiculous."

"and you love me for it," he said, nudging your shoulder gently. "now, go lie down. i'll heat up the soup and put on a movie."

you didn't argue, too tired and too grateful to protest. you curled up on the couch again, the blanket pulled snug around you and mr. wiggles tucked under your arm. a few minutes later, your dad appeared with a tray—soup, crackers, and a glass of ginger ale—and set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"all right, what's it gonna be?" he asked, grabbing the remote. "something funny? or one of those sappy movies you always make me watch?"

you smiled faintly. "sappy. but you're not allowed to complain."

"wouldn't dream of it," he said, settling into the recliner next to you. "though if i start crying, you're not allowed to tell anyone."

"deal," you said, your smile widening.

as the movie played, you found yourself relaxing for the first time all day. your dad stayed by your side, occasionally cracking jokes or making comments about the characters, his presence a constant comfort. and even though you felt awful, you couldn't help but feel a little better knowing he was there.

"thanks for coming, dad," you said softly as the credits rolled.

he reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "always, sweetheart. you're stuck with your old man, whether you like it or not."

and in that moment, with the warmth of the blanket, the faint taste of ginger ale on your tongue, and your dad sitting nearby, you realized there was no place you’d rather be.

SPECIAL TAGS. @floralscented @titsout4jackles @deansbite @deanswidow @jasvtsc @beausling @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @lacydollette @lustagel @ultravi0lence14 @beausling @ostaramoon @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @bluestrd @jackleslvr @fallbhind . . . ૮っ ̫ _ ྀིა

[carltonmorrow]

Ryan Donowho, Asia's Boyfriend from Houston

Anton quickly got ready, got dressed again and flew out into the street. The walk to Van Gogh Street was not that long, but every meter seemed like an eternity to him. The city was already plunging into the evening gloom, and the street lights created an uneasy atmosphere. Anton, full of determination, glided among the shadows, his thoughts focused on only one thing – to see Asia and try to talk to her. Toronto was a big and confusing city, but thanks to his determination and inner desire, he still found the right area. His legs were already giving out from fatigue, but the thought that this was his last chance forced him to move on.

When he finally got to the right address, he noticed that the house looked quite impressive, with high windows and a well-kept garden. Anton carefully approached the house and noticed that a light was peeking out from the living room window. Trying not to make any noise, he approached and pressed himself against the glass to look inside. Inside, Anton saw the scene he had been trying to imagine for so long.

Asia Vieira was sitting on a large, comfortable sofa surrounded by soft pillows, her face relaxed, and she was holding a glass of wine in her hands. She was wearing an elegant yellow sleeveless dress that emphasized her grace and sophistication. However, this idyll was spoiled by one circumstance – the fact is that next to her sat a man in a gray short-sleeved shirt, and what's more, his arm was wrapped around Asia's waist! The guy looked confident and relaxed, as if this moment was normal for him.

Anton felt his heart squeeze with jealousy and shock. His breathing quickened, and he felt his body tense with emotion. This guy sitting next to Asia was the one who apparently occupied her attention and heart. The guy leaned over to pick up the glass of wine and offer a toast:

"To our evening, Asia", he said with a slight smile. "I'm so glad you're back. How was the event?"

Asia smiled back, her face relaxed and content.

"It went great", she replied, raising her glass. "But I missed you".

The guy nodded, looking a little more serious as he said,

"I thought you'd be staying for a while. While you were gone, I managed to work on a new song a little. You know how much I love this music".

"I know", Asia said with a soft smile. "I'm looking forward to hearing it".

"By the way", the guy continued, "did you remember that we have an interview on Friday? I hope you'll have time to prepare".

"Of course", Asia replied, her voice full of confidence. "I've already prepared a few ideas".

The guy looked at Asia and hugged her, saying,

"You're amazing as always. And I'm glad I can be there for you. I know you're under pressure right now, and this can be tough".

Asia touched his hand, her face full of gratitude.

"Thank you, Ryan", she said. "It means so much to me that you're there for me".

Anton, who was standing by the window, realized who was sitting next to Asia – it was Ryan Donowho, an actor from Houston, who played faggots in the movies like "A Home at the End of the World". Seeing him in person, he felt his hurt and disappointment increase. He already knew that Ryan was not only an actor but also a musician, and as it turned out, he was Asia's boyfriend. Apparently, he had been at her house for a long time, waiting for Asia to return from an event.

As Anton pondered what he had just learned, he felt his dreams of living together with Asia becoming more and more unattainable. Feeling bitter and uncertain, he walked away from the window. Without losing his resolve, he knew he had to find a new plan of action to get closer to his goal. Anton, who was standing at the window of the mansion and still in a state of shock from what he had seen, did not notice Ryan Donowho, putting on his jacket, leaving the house. He continued to stand motionless, pondering what to do next, until he heard the door creak and saw Ryan approach the car parked at the curb. Ryan, noticing Anton's figure, froze. Suspicion appeared in his eyes. Gritting his teeth, he walked towards Anton.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Ryan said, his voice full of menace and contempt.

Anton, tense and hesitant, flinched and turned to Ryan. His face paled when he saw who was standing in front of him.

"I… I just got lost", Anton mumbled, his voice shaking. "I need to find… find my way back".

Ryan chuckled and looked at Anton with obvious distrust. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Lost, you say?" he said sarcastically. "What neighborhood do you think you're in that you can get lost ten meters from home?"

Anton wanted to answer, but the words wouldn't come. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster. He knew perfectly well that his appearance and behavior could probably be perceived as a threat. Ryan, continuing to raise his voice, pointed at Anton.

"What neighborhood are you from? Why aren't you in your neighborhood? Are you a robber?"

Anton, gathering his strength, tried to explain:

"I'm not a robber, I'm from Russia, and I… I just wanted to… Meet a person. It's not what you think".

Ryan, not listening to his explanation, showed obvious disdain:

"Do you think you belong here? Look at yourself, you're like a beggar from Russia! Get out of here before I call the police!"

Anton felt his inner peace quickly melting away. He knew that his chance for a peaceful resolution to the situation was slipping away. The tension between them was growing, and besides, the sounds of sirens rising on the horizon were starting to grow. Ryan, no longer holding back his anger, took out his phone and began to dial a number.

"I'm calling the police", he declared, looking at Anton with disdain. "Get out of here before I do".

At that moment, Anton realized that he had no other choice. Before Ryan could finish the conversation, Anton turned sharply and ran away from the mansion. His legs moved with difficulty on the uneven sidewalk until he found shelter in the shadows of an old building not far from where he had been caught. Anton breathed heavily, hiding in the darkness, trying to calm the frantic rhythm of his heart. He heard the sirens receding and felt the sweat running down his back in icy beads. With frantic desperation, he realized that his plan had become even more complicated than he had expected.

But Anton Skovorodnikov was not the kind of person to give up. His heart pounded in his ears, and thoughts about his dream of Asia and its peace once again overwhelmed him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and reached for his phone to contact Dmitry Vinogradov again. An unexpected encounter with Ryan, who clearly had a taste for conflict, left Anton determined that he would continue to fight for his dream, despite the obstacles and difficulties.

An hour passed. Anton sat on the edge of the bed in his temporary refuge, a small hostel on the outskirts of the city. Feeling his body still shaking from stress, he considered the events of the last hour: the confrontation with Ryan, the disappointment and fear. His thoughts were clouded, and he was about to drop his head on the pillow, when the phone suddenly rang. The name of Dmitry Vinogradov appeared on the screen. Anton answered the call with trepidation, hoping that his friend could offer at least some solution to his problems.

"Hi, Dmitry", Anton was tense and excited. "I got into a mess here. Things didn't go as I planned".

"Hi, Skovant. What happened?" Dmitry replied with mild interest. "So, what kind of mess did you get into again?"

Anton took a deep breath and, trying to calm his thoughts, began to tell.

"Do you remember I told you about the actress, Asia Vieira? Well, I found her, but everything went wrong. When I got to her house, I saw her in the company of some guy. It turned out that he was some actor who played faggots in the two thousandths. And now, imagine that this guy", Anton continued, "is not just a random person, but her real love interest, and he is, like, her current boyfriend".

"Wait", Dmitry interrupted, "I don't quite get it. Is this the guy she was with at the event?"

"No, that was director Jorge Montesi", Anton corrected him. "And regarding this guy… I ran into him right away. I didn't have time to leave her house in time, and this guy, having bumped into me, almost tore me to pieces. He was ready to call the police to drive me away, and said that Russians have no place here!"

"Wow", Dmitry became serious. "That's really serious. But I get it. So you want to meet Asia without all these obstacles".

"Yes, that's right", Anton sighed. "I'm trying to find a way to meet her again, but things have gotten complicated now".

"Okay", Dmitry said after a short pause. "I need a little time to arrange everything. I'll try to find another way for you to get to the event where Asia Vieira won't be surrounded by these people".

"Thank you, Dmitry. You have no idea how important this is to me", Anton said, feeling his heart begin to beat more evenly again.

"Well", Dmitry sighed, "I'll try to make sure you have a chance. I'll see you in a day. Until then, take care of yourself and be on your guard".

Anton turned off his phone and, having calmed down a little, began to prepare for the next day. The next day, Anton, sitting in his temporary shelter, received a message from Dmitry Vinogradov. He quickly opened the text and began to read. Dmitry was offering him the opportunity to attend a closed event, where, as he wrote, Asia Vieira would be present without her usual companions. Unable to stand the wait, Anton immediately dialed Dmitry's number.

"Dmitry, hi!" his voice was full of excitement. "I got your message. Tell me, what do I need to do to get to this event?"

"Hi, Skovant", Dmitry replied. "It's quite simple. I managed to get you an invitation to this closed event. Asia Vieira will be there without Jorge Montesi and this guy. You just need to come and introduce yourself as an invited guest. At the entrance, just show the invitation".

"That's great news", Anton said, feeling his hopes revived. "Thank you very much. I don't know how I would have managed without you".

"You're welcome", Dmitry replied with a slight grin in his voice. "Remember, you're not alone in this city, so be careful and keep your eyes open. All you need now is to just seize the opportunity and use it to the fullest".

"Got it", Anton nodded, although Dmitry didn't see it. "I'll do everything. Thank you for helping me and for believing in me".

"Good luck to you", Dmitry said. "And don't forget, don't let go of your plan. I hope everything works out this time. Come on, keep me posted".

Anton turned off his phone and, confident in his actions, began to prepare for the upcoming event. Half an hour later, he was already standing in front of the mirror in his small refuge, pulling up the lapels of the tuxedo he had borrowed from the porter. The sleek black suit fit him like a glove, and he could hardly believe that just a couple of days ago he had been an ordinary waiter at an event. Now he was preparing for another meeting with Asia Vieira, and this time everything was going to be different.

"I hope everything works out", he said to himself, straightening his jacket and putting the finishing touches on his tie.

As the evening approached, Anton, trying not to think about his nervous premonitions, went outside. When he reached the venue, he was amazed by its luxury. The large mansion was illuminated by hundreds of lights, and from inside, the sounds of live music and laughter of guests could be heard. Anton showed the invitation at the entrance, after which he was led into the hall. Inside, everything looked even more impressive. The decor was stylish and sophisticated, guests in elegant outfits moved around the room, raising glasses and discussing the news. Anton tried not to look too nervous, and, trying to remain casual, headed to the bar.

After a while, his gaze fell on Asia Vieira. She was sitting at the far end of the room on a sofa, chatting with several guests. Tonight, she was dressed in an elegant blue dress that emphasized her slender figure and sophisticated beauty. Without Jorge Montesi and Ryan Donohoe, she seemed more relaxed and approachable. Anton took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and began to slowly move towards her. At that moment, he noticed Asia look up and notice him.

"Hello", Anton began, walking towards her. "I… I think we've met before".

Asia smiled, slightly surprised.

"Oh, really? I don't recall seeing you anywhere", her voice was warm and soft.

"Maybe it was at another event", Anton said, rubbing his hands nervously. "My name is Anton. I came from Russia, and you, well, kind of inspired me".

Asia nodded, her interest clearly piqued.

"Interesting", she said, placing her hand on her chin. "Well, nice to meet you, Anton. How did you like our event?"

"It was awesome", Anton replied, feeling his nervousness begin to fade. "I couldn't help but notice how gorgeous you look. And thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk to you".

"Thank you", Asia smiled. "You are so polite. The time spent here will be even better with such pleasant company".

The conversation continued, and Anton felt his heart fill with joy from communicating with Asia. He forgot about his previous failures, simply enjoying the moment.

[xtruss]

The 2024 Uber Lost & Found Index Reveals Bizarre Items Left behind By The Customers

— April 17, 2024 | Uber.Com | Written By Uber

With Mercury in Retrograde, which astrologists say influences forgetfulness, we’re back with the eighth annual Uber Lost & Found Index – a snapshot of the most surprising and most popular items left behind in Ubers.

Over the last twelve months, items of clothing, luggage, headphones and wallets topped the list of most frequently forgotten belongings. But Uber riders didn’t just leave the usuals behind… in fact, folks forgot their frontal hair toupees, live turtles, trays of meat pie, tubs of surgical implants, and more. We saw a few new forgetfulness trends this year, too: Miami was the most forgetful city, red was the most lost color, 9pm and 10pm are when most folks report lost items, and January 21st was the most forgetful day.

Take a look at the full Lost & Found Index below, which includes step-by-step instructions on how to get help getting lost items back in the Uber app. Whether it’s your Beyoncé fold up fan or a whole smoked pork belly, we want to help you reunite with your prized possessions!

The 2024 Uber Lost & Found Index! The 10 Lost Commonly Forgotten Items:

Clothing

Luggage

Headphones

Wallet

Jewelry

Phone

Camera

Tablet or book

Laptop

Vape

The 10 Most “Forgetful” Cities:

Miami, FL

Los Angeles, CA

Atlanta, GA

Houston, TX

Dallas, TX

Orlando, FL

Phoenix, AZ

Tampa Bay, FL

Denver, CO

Austin, TX

The 50 Most *Unique* Lost Items:

Frontal hair toupee

Hot sauce and a breathalyzer

I left a leaf in your car that’s much needed

Two containers with spiders in them

A Beyoncé fold up fan

A tray of meat pie

Ceramic cat

Jar of oysters

A personalized blanket with a picture of me and my dog

Small rat skeleton prop

Candle that says ‘See you in court’

A fake tooth / retainer (it’s a really small plastic piece with a fake tooth in it)

Gray tub of surgical implants

Police-grade handcuffs

My live pet animal turtle

Waist beads and a burrito steamer

I left expensive blueberries that are special that I need that the store is completely out of. There’s two packages that I absolutely need.

My girlfriend’s pregnant pills

Small box containing a gnome.

Standup paddleboard paddle

Painting from SeaWorld. It was wrapped up in a roll and I love it.

A playbill from the Spamalot show at the Kennedy Center

My robot

Benihana garlic butter

Contraceptive Plan B from Costco and a BaBylissPRO massager machine

A panic button

A spear and a furry fox tail

Taylor Swift autograph. Framed!!!!

Fart sensor

Bravo Con wristband

A #bestdayever foam sign

3 feathers

Fake butt

Poster of Hillary Clinton

Panty liner and 1000 bucks. That’s all I can remember

Some lotion or my thong

Meditation crystals

Undergarments, bread, pack of ham and mayo

Cardboard cut out panda

Street sign saying ‘She’s drunk’ and a picture frame

My father’s beard softener

Big sentimental carrying jug

Paternity test

WWE championship belt

Harry Potter wand engraved with name ‘Alexander’

Large sticker with a dancing cartoon cat that says ‘Spanky Fest’ on it

I might have left my garden fence in the trunk.

Jeep Liberty engine. Please call me

I lost my wizard woman

Three Japanese ceramic decorative cats – one gold, one black and one pink. All fist-sized.

Top 20 Forgotten Food Items:

Leftovers from Pizzeria Portofino. Soooo expensive.

A whole smoked pork belly

Cooler with meat

I left the ice cream cones in your car and was worried about it melting and making a mess

A nice cheese. Feel free to keep!

A pan of chicken spaghetti

Bucket of cookies

Benihana garlic butter

Mason jar with cilantro

Church cookies in the trunk

Green lettuce in a jar in your car

Fly ass burrito

Side of salmon

Tomatoes (Don’t need ‘em back, just a heads up so they don’t cook in your car!)

A tray of meat pie

I left my pizza in your car! I can’t believe I left it!

Bowl of meat is in your car! And i need it

I left some pasta in the back by accident. Feel free to have it! It was so yummy and I didn’t eat out of the plate. Thanks again!

Jar of oysters

Small container of valuable honey

2024 Lost & Found Trends:

Seeing Red: Lost an item and seeing red? Well, that should help, since the most popular color of lost items was red.

Keeping Cool with Crystals: Channeling your inner zen and manifesting more just got a little harder. Riders around the country lost a number of healing crystals, including purple Amethysts, green Aventurines and more.

Mini Cooper Movers: The top lost car keys were from Mini Cooper owners. They won’t be getting very far in their little cars!

What’s the WiFi: There was a significant number of wifi hotspots and mobile routers left behind this year. Is that why you dropped from the Zoom call?

Getting Sensical: It appears Uber riders are coming to their senses this year, or finding them rather. From dignity, to credibility and memory, riders reported emotional losses left behind.

Next Time, Take Your Board: Whether of sentimental value or brand spankin’ new, skateboarders forgot their #1 tool this year time and time again.

Most Forgetful Days/Times:

Remember 1/21: January 21st is the most forgetful day of the year, with the most lost items recorded.

Losing Hour: The most popular hours of the day lost items were reported were 9:00 pm and 10:00 pm. Not the ideal night time routine we see on TikTok, huh?

Lost Items That Peak On Certain Days:

People are most likely to forget luggage on Mondays.

People are most likely to forget headphones on Tuesdays.

People are most likely to forget wallets on Wednesdays.

People are most likely to forget jewelry on Thursdays.

People are most likely to forget phones on Fridays.

People are most likely to forget vapes on Saturdays.

People are most likely to forget clothing on Sundays.

If you’ve left something behind during a ride with Uber, look no further than this help page, which outlines the simple steps you can take to help you get a lost item returned to you.

The best way to retrieve a lost item is to call the driver – but if you leave your phone itself in an Uber, you can login

Open the Uber app and tap “Activity” on the bottom icon menu.

Select the trip on which you lost the item.

Scroll down to “Find lost item” in the Help section, and then “Contact driver about a lost item.”

Enter your phone number to call the driver.

If your driver picks up and confirms that your item has been found, coordinate a mutually convenient time and place to meet for its return to you.

If your driver doesn’t pick up, leave a detailed voicemail describing your item and the best way to contact you.

[mokonahapuuuuuu]

I Have Nothing

In love with Christina Aguilera's cover of I Have Nothing by Whitney Houston, and I finally found an outlet to write it in.

So behind with fleshing out Belle to you guys to get to know her and the chemistry between her and Neil, but I had to get this out. So yeah, this may or may not be canon for my official storyline.

Here ya go...!

-----

Neil landed a big modelling opportunity in New York. 

Belle couldn’t be more happier for Neil like everyone else, and this was the dream of a lifetime for him. 

At the same time, she felt empty at the thought of Neil not being at the school. He was a year older than her, and he was going to graduate soon. He was going to leave the school anyways, right?

But the modelling job made him leaving that much sooner. 

Neil taught her to believe in herself. To be proud to be related to Bellerophon despite how his story ended and made her more confident in riding competitions. He made her see to go to the Olympics. Without him, she’d still be that unsure girl. 

Surely, they’d keep in touch, right? There was the PMR, emails, and the phone. 

As she walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water, she saw Herry and Odie chatting. Despite Neil not doing much fighting wise and that he complained at the drop of a hat, even they were going to miss him. 

Though Belle knew she was going to miss him the most. 

She helped him get his luggage out of the car at the airport. 

“The Big Apple will love you there,” Belle began. “I know you’re going to do amazing.” 

“Thanks…” Neil rubbed his hand against his neck. 

Their arms wrapped around each other for a hug. Belle gently squeezed her arms around Neil. Who knows when she was going to see him again. 

“I’ll try and come by to visit,” she said. “Pegasus can fly me there.” 

They both chuckled. 

“I’ll call you the moment I land in New York,” he replied. 

There was so much unsaid, but now didn’t feel like the right moment to let it all out. They just knew that their story wasn’t over yet. Maybe there was something in store for both of them in New York. 

“Bye…” 

The first few steps he took into the airport were the hardest to see. 

Don't make me close one more door I don't want it all anymore Stay in my arms if you dare Or must I imagine you there Don't walk away from me I have nothing, nothing, nothing If I don't have you

[horniesha]

The day I met you, you were working as a cashier at a trendy cafe near downtown Houston. I noticed you almost instantly. I didn't get out much so I was excited to see a gorgeous biracial woman with masculine energy at such a cool spot even if you were on the clock. You were a rare sighting and after working up the courage to speak to you, I asked for your number when I got to the top of the line. You seemed deeply entranced in your work and I was feeling very confident that day. I don't remember much of what I said, but I believe I gave you my number and then I waltzed away thinking I would probably never hear from you again.

To my surprise, you texted me the very next day. You told me it was rare to have a "beautiful" woman express interest in you and I was shocked to hear you describe me as beautiful with as beautiful as I found you. You asked me on a date and I had never been asked on a date before. Despite being almost 23, I had never been on a proper date with anyone. Even my ex-girlfriend invited me to a date at the restaurant where she worked and received a very generous discount. Not that I didn't have respect for her being economical, I just would have liked our date to be more intimate and less discounted.

You on the other hand had asked me out to a restaurant that I didn't even know existed. As a native Houstonian, I felt embarrassed to be so out of touch. Never the less, I was eager to go out with you. We met up at a Spanish restaurant called Batanga. I was very impressed with the atmosphere, the music, and the food. I battled 45 minutes of horrendous traffic to get to you and despite arriving late, you were very forgiving. I asked you what you were drinking and you told me, a Shirley Temple. I was confused at such a statement because you seemed a lot more refined and sophisticated than a Shirley Temple. I asked you if drank alcohol and you told me you had stopped drinking for some unnamed reason.

Beginning to question if I was on a date with a minor, an episode of punk'd, or to catch a predator, I decided to ask you how old you were. You told me you prefer not to discuss your age and at that moment, a red flag went up. Yet again, I am feeling foolish and embarrassed. How pathetic of me to finally be out on a date with someone I'm genuinely attracted to and they are not even of age. That is pretty humiliating, but I digress. I'm trying to enjoy the cold lobster bisque appetizer you ordered for us and I'm wondering if I should just enjoy this or if I should continue cringing in my seat. I choose to enjoy it. We begin discussing religion and I feel like I'm preaching to you as an elder of some sorts. I was instantly turned off by my own soap box, but it was nice to have a willing ear.

I'm getting a little antsy and I don't know what direction I want to go in with you, but we mutually decide to wrap things up and you walk me to my car. Before I get in, you ask if you can kiss me. I say no because, I never had anyone ask to kiss me before and I'm unsure if I'm romantically interested in you at this point. On one hand, I'm concerned about your age and on the other I am confused about whether or not my feelings are completely resolved for my ex girlfriend. I'm feeling conflicted, but certain that kissing you is a bad idea. So, I hope in my ford mustang and drive away.

You text me later that evening and I am confused about the nature of your text message. Your wording appears to be erratic and frantic. Your demeanor earlier that evening seemed reserved to almost an alarming degree. You tell me some of the things I said to you resonated deeply and that you might "off" yourself. I understood that to mean, commit suicide. At the time, I was unaware of the suicide hotline and how to best reach out for help if you were in immediate distress so, I did nothing, I said nothing, and I expected nothing. I had no way of knowing if you were okay, if you would harm yourself, or if you were just being dramatic and I chose not to find out. We lost touch after that night and I didn't think we would ever speak to one another again, but a year later, we did.

[firstdegreefangirl]

April 2023 Reading Wrap-Up

Total books read: 5 

Total pages read: 1,692 

Days read: 19/30 

Average star rating: 3.7/5 

Challenge Prompts Filled: 8 in April; 41 total. Popsugar: 3(13)/40.    Romanceopoly: 2(12)/36. CRAD: 1(4)/12. BTBL: 2(13)/52 

After the Sirens by Sharon Farrell 

⭐⭐⭐(½) 

I saw this one in a Facebook ad. The premise was immediately fascinating to me, with the junior EMT program and the different characters all finding their ways into it in different ways. The calls were interesting; I know it's how EMS works -- that you don't always find out the end of the story -- but I'd have liked to see a little more followup on some of the bigger issues at play with the police interactions. That said, I did enjoy watching Cate learn that it's OK to change her path. That's such an important lesson to teach, especially to teens, as they’re getting ready to make college choices that won’t actually have to set the course for their entire lives. The writing style was really engaging, and I liked how this one has a romance angle but also covered issues that were deeper/harder-hitting/totally unrelated to the MC falling in love. 

Prompts Filled: Romanceopoly – Beau Boulevard/YA of your choice 

Skip to the End by Molly James 

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

Genuinely, I can’t even remember what drew me to this one, but it was on my Kindle and I was at work, so here we are. It was really cute! Held my attention all the way through to the end with a romantic-themed conflict that didn’t feel forced. I used it for “a bit of magic” but skipped the paranormal bit of that prompt because I know my tastes well enough to know that paranormal books hardly ever hit for me. Given the MC’s ability to see the ends of relationships with a first kiss, it felt sufficiently magical for my tastes. There’s a healthy dose of found family too, especially when tragedy strikes in the form of a mother with dementia (fair warning, those scenes were hard to get through, even though it’s something I’ve never personally experienced, just as a person who’s supersupersuper close with my mom). Overall, definitely would recommend, but I’m not sure if I’d read it again, since quite a bit of the plot hinged on not knowing the ending.  

Prompts Filled: Popsugar – Book with a love triangle; Romanceopoly – Fated Folly/Read a paranormal with a bit of magic in it 

A Not So Meet Cute by Meghan Quinn 

⭐⭐⭐(¼) 

I’ve had this on my TBR for ages, and finally landed an ebook copy for free, so I figured it was time to give it a shot! It’s pretty Hallmark-y – except the steamy scenes, of which there were quite a few! -- in that I had the plot figured out pretty early on, but still enjoyed the journey. Fake dating and enemies-to-lovers all in one book? Sign me up! Especially with a hearty dose of supportive family and scenes so funny I was actively laughing out loud siting at my desk. After reading it, I found out that the other two brothers have books of their own, so I’m really excited to find out what’s in store for those too. 

Prompts Filled: BTBL – First in a trilogy 

Sing for Me by Claire Wilder 

⭐⭐⭐(¾) 

I’ve been waiting AGES for this one, and by the time it finally came out, I decided to save it as my travel book for the Houston team travel I went on this month. That said, I get sick reading in cars, so there went the travel days, even when I wasn’t driving. I didn’t finish the whole thing on the trip, but I did read it in a hot tub ((sort of, the temperature was off, so it was more lukewarm, but the jets were nice and mercifully, my Kindle is waterproof)), and in the passenger seat of an illegally idling van waiting for our coach to finish team registration at the championship. Also I think I read a little bit in my hotel room one night, and the last chunk of it my first few shifts back at work. Definitely, absolutely worth the wait; I love this entire series so much, and it was so lovely getting to revisit the characters from the first two books while we explored Eli and Reese’s fake-then-real relationship. Definitely a cute vacation read, and I’m already looking forward to the next book in the series too, but there were a couple places I wish we would have gotten to explore a little deeper – namely Reese and Eli’s relationship/fling/whatever you want to call it before the book started (the second chance element of a “second chance, enemies to lovers relationship”), and the public response to the Thing That Happens Right Before the End. I get how they maybe didn’t fit the romance novel format, but it felt like those were a couple of loose ends left hanging at the end of things.  

Prompts Filled: Popsugar – published in the first half of 2023 

I'm Your Biggest Fan by Kate Coyne 

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

Look at me, finding a non-fiction book, that I already own, and reading it in three days! Not gonna lie, I picked this one up at Half Price … I think before I moved in 2020? Pretty much just because it mentioned an essay about Mariska Hargitay and being an SVU fan is a cornerstone of my personality. It’s a series of essays by an entertainment journalist, about various encounters she’s had with stars along the way. For the most part, entertaining and relatable and funny, but the secondhand cringe was so bad in a few places. Which was the point, I understand that, but I read books to escape the amount of cringe that my life already is. I don’t need the reading making that worse. Definitely will not be revisiting the NPH chapter, but I could see myself flipping through a few of them again, especially the Winnona Judd chapter and “Most of Hollywood Thinks I’m a Drug Addict.” 

Prompts Filled: BTBL – Nonfiction just for fun; Popsugar – An author with the same initials as you, CRAD April – A different genre than March 

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

History Repeats Itself

Fandom: For All Mankind, Ed Baldwin, f!Reader

Word Count: 1800

TW: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, pain, bruises, injuries, car accident, hospital, mentions of past loss

Notes: Thank you to @loverhymeswith for the request “You're the one in pain and yet you're still trying to comfort me” for Ed and for beta reading!

Set between Season 1 and Season 2. SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1

When Ed received the call, he felt as if his world had ended for the second time in his life. He slowly lowered the phone as he tried to force air into his burning lungs. This can’t be happening. Not again. It just can’t be. I can’t lose her too.

Gordo silently slid the phone from his best friend’s hands and listened as a doctor provided him with all the details of what happened. You had been driving home from work the night before when another car came roaring out of the darkness and collided with you head-on. You were hurt – badly – but the doctors were confident you would make a full recovery. 

It was only after that last bit of information that Ed took a huge, gasping breath. You were going to be okay. This wasn’t like last time because you were going to make it.  

NASA wasn’t happy about letting him leave Cape Canaveral and his mission prep to fly back to Houston but given the circumstances they didn’t really have a choice. Ed made it very clear he was leaving, one way or another. And after how they behaved last time something like this happened, they were reluctant to fight him on it. So, within the hour of receiving the call, Admiral Ed Baldwin was on a plane home.

The entire flight, Ed couldn’t stop thinking about you or about the last time he had been forced to endure a similar situation. Another car, another accident, another person he loved more than life itself laying in a hospital while he was miles and miles away. But this time would be different because everyone told him you were going to be okay. Of course….. they had lied to him last time.

Almost seven hours later, Ed finally made it to the hospital. As he entered your room, his mind once again flickered back to the last accident. Ed wondered if this was what he had looked like laying in his hospital bed hooked up to monitors and machines. Yet while he never opened his eyes again after his accident, yours flickered open as Ed approached the bed, a tired smile weakly pulling at your lips. Softly you mumbled, “You’re here.”

Ed tried his best to give you a comforting smile in return as he whispered, “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m here.”

As carefully as he could, he took the hand not coated in plaster as he settled into the seat beside your bed. Though he had been briefed on your injuries before he arrived, Ed was horrified to see the extent of the damage with his own eyes. Apparently, your face had smashed into the steering wheel when you were hit. While your nose was now set and wrapped in gauze, there was no way to cover the deep reds and purples surrounding your beautiful eyes like a mask. Ed could see more bruises stretching from your left shoulder and disappearing underneath your hospital gown caused by the seat belt. As you tried to sit up further, you flinched and grabbed your side. Probably due to your cracked ribs.

However, when you spoke again your voice was a little stronger though nasally and hoarse. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean for this to happen or for you to have to come home.”

“No, sweetheart, this isn’t on you. That asshole was drunk and came outta nowhere. There was nothing you could have done.”

Your lip began to quiver slightly. “But I totaled your car. I know how much you love that thing.”

Ed’s Corvette was his pride and joy and it had taken you months to finally convince him to let you drive it when he was out of town. And while he would miss it, it didn’t matter at the moment. “Not as much as I love you. And if I had to lose one of you, it would be the car every damn time.” He gently kissed your knuckles before chuckling deep in his chest. “Besides, NASA’s owed me a newer model for years. This’ll finally make ‘em hand it over.”

You started to laugh, but it quickly shifted into a gasp of pain as you clutched at your side once more. Ed’s brow furrowed as he watched, helpless to do anything to ease your suffering. But when you saw his expression, you smiled weakly as you stroked his hand.

“I’m okay, Ed. Just give me a few weeks and this will all just be a bad dream. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Ed scoffed softly as he ran his hand through his hair. “You're the one in pain and yet you're still trying to comfort me.”

“Not all pain is physical, Ed.” Your eyes searched his face for a moment before you said, “I’m so sorry. I know what kinds of memories this must have brought up. Getting that call, hearing what happened while you were away, walking into this hospital specifically. I never wanted to make you relive what happened with…..” You trailed off but he knew exactly what you were going to say.

Ed had only spoken to you about those events one time after a night of heavy drinking. It was the only way he could make it through the conversation without completely shutting down. But armed with the steely resolve from his bourbon, and your encouraging, gentle gaze, he told you about Shane. Every last heartbreaking detail.

Starting with the last conversation he had had with his son where he had spent the entire time yelling about how much of a disappointment he was, Ed then talked about the video call from his then wife where she lied to his face about everything being alright only to call back the next day with the truth. He was still haunted by the image of Karen’s weeping form as soon as he answered the call. He then told you about his depression and meltdown afterwards, stranded all alone on the moon, and how he had made a makeshift grave for Shane that would remain there long after the rest of you were gone.

The next part took more coaxing to get out of him, but he eventually admitted to disabling a cosmonaut’s lunar craft and holding the man captive for days. This was the only part Ed glossed over, not wanting you to know the depths he had sunk or the things he had allowed himself to subject the other man to, but you hadn’t pushed him. You had just drawn him into your chest as he sobbed, finally releasing all the ghosts of his past.

And you were right. He was still in pain over what happened, as he suspected he always would be. He had tried to work through his issues with Karen afterwards, but there was just too much blame there on both sides. He had left soon after returning home from the moon and he had started to spiral, quickly. Between his drinking and reckless behavior, he honestly expected he would soon lose everything else he cared about.

But then he met you and everything changed. Somehow, you had seen past the alcohol-soaked shell of a man before you to the true man underneath. And through your persistence, that man soon reemerged. Ed owed you his life and every time he thought about how close you had just come to losing yours…..

Squeezing your hand tightly, Ed clenched his jaw before murmuring, “It was different with…… with Shane. I have so many regrets about everything that happened. But with you… there would have only been one regret.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. Turning it over in his hand, he said, “I’ve had this for weeks, but I was trying to find the right time to give it to you. However, this just reminded me that we don’t always have that time to wait. That if something matters as much as you do to me, I need to tell you while I have the chance.” He flipped open the lid of the box and held it out to you, the diamond ring clearly on display.

Tears filled your eyes as you glanced back and forth between the ring and his face. “Oh, Eddie….”

“Sweetheart, you saved me from myself when I was at my lowest point. And you love me despite everything that I’ve done. I still have no idea what you see in me but, if you’ll have me, I’d love nothing more in this, or any other world, for you to become my wife. What do you say?”

“Is that really even a question? Of course I’ll marry you!”

Smiling like a fool, Ed bent over and placed a gentle yet loving kiss on your lips, carefully avoiding your injured nose. Then he removed the ring from the box and slipped it onto your finger. It was the wrong hand but seeing as the other was still encased in plaster, it would do for now.

Just as he sat back in the chair, your nurse came in. She was startled to see Ed sitting next to you. “Oh! Excuse me sir, but visiting hours are over for the day. You’ll have to leave.”

“It’s okay. This is my fiancée.” You shot Ed a brilliant smile at the word, and he returned it tenfold.

But the nurse shook her head. “I’m sorry but you’re still in intensive care so there are no exceptions. However, he can come back at 8 am tomorrow.”

You sighed as you turned to Ed. “I’m sorry. I was hoping we’d have more time to celebrate.”

 “It’s okay. Once you get out of here, we’ll have all the time in the world. But for now, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.” Ed rose to his feet and placed a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Now, get some sleep, soon-to-be-Mrs. Baldwin.”

“Good night, Admiral Baldwin.”

The nurse began to usher Ed out but just as he got to the doorway, he glanced back at you one last time. Your eyes were fixed on the ring which you twirled softly as you bit your lip to keep the smile from overwhelming your face. Suddenly, Ed had a flash of you walking down the aisle towards him in a flowing white gown and that same smile on your face. Despite all the majesties of the cosmos he had seen over the years, that image of you was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And he was one step closer to that day. Because you were here, you were going to be okay, and you were finally going to be his. With one last smile, Ed stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him.

Taglist: @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @nik2blog, @shirley2996

[mediocre-writerr]

better half of me [lexie grey]

lexie grey x fem reader

requested: hi there can I request a Lexie grey x fem reader imagine where reader is marks sister and moves from Houston where she was working previously and gets a job in Seattle so when she arrives she flirts and sleeps around with all the nurses, but then she meets Lexie and falls deeply in love with her and stops sleeping around and tries to pursue Lexie but one day sees her and mark in bed together so she starts sleeping around again, and when the plain crashes Lexie makes it out alive, because reader saved her and when they get back reader confesses to Lexie, and if it’s possible could u write a time skip where they have a bunch of kids and are happily married?

trigger warning: slight mention of alcohol addiction

*not my gif*

You don’t remember what happened on that plane. How you guys got in the middle of the woods with your plane split in half. Everything was blurry, but you saw mostly everyone: Meredith, Cristina, Arizona, your brother Mark, and Lexie? 

Wait...where’s Lexie? 

You immediately shot up, ignoring the pain that you felt in the right side of your body. You tried walking normally when you started to limp. 

“Woah, woah, Y/N!” Mark comes over and you finally look at your foot and hand.

Your hand was impaled by the pieces of the plane metal. It was numb. Your whole hand was numb, but you didn’t care about that. So was your foot, you couldn’t feel it. But you didn’t care, all you cared about was trying to find Lexie. 

“Y/N, we need to get that out of your hand. It’ll cause serious damage,” he tried to stop you from whatever you were doing.

“No, I can’t. I got to-I got to find,” you start to say, but trail off.

He sits you down on the mulch ground before you can protest, “This is going to hurt,” he whispers. 

He pulled the metal plane out before you could even realize what was happening. You let out a piercing scream, he immediately ripped a piece of fabric from his scrubs and wrapped it around your hand. 

Before you knew it he did the same thing with your foot, “You need to rest Y/N,” he told you, but you shook your head, pushing him away.

“No! Where’s, where’s-” you start to say again.

“Lexie!” Meredith scream and your head shot towards the sound of her name like a deer hearing the softest of footsteps.

You ran towards her to see her trapped over a piece of hunky plane metal. Her breathing was heavy as she couldn’t move. 

“Y/N, is that you?” she whispered.

You nodded, immediately lying down on the floor next to her, “Yeah, yeah. It’s me. I’m right here,” 

“I’m gonna die,” she whispered.

You shook your head quickly, “No, no! You are not dying. I am going to save you, do you understand?” 

You started to get up from the ground when she grabbed your hand, squeezing it ever so softly. You were met with those beautiful brown eyes that you completely fell in love with. Then all the memories from when you first moved to Seattle and meeting Lexie flooded back. 

“So I was thinking you and I go on a date tonight. Something casual, wine and pizza at my new place,” you asked, suggesting more to come out of the date. 

The nurse had her head propped up onto her chin, “I’d really like that, but what’s for dessert?” she whispered back.

You were about to answer when someone shoved a chart in the nurse’s face. You looked to see a dirty blonde haired woman. She gave you a fake smile, “Hey, Dr. Grey?” you looked at her coat, “Have you seen uh Dr. Sloan?” you asked a dirty blonde hair girl.

She looks at you, slightly annoyed, “Another one of Mark’s suitors?” she asked and you shook your head.

“That is probably the grossest thing I’ve ever heard, I’m Y/N Sloan, Mark’s sister,” you told her, “I heard a lot about you,” 

“That explains the flirting with the nurses, wait- Mark talks about me?” she asked and you nodded, “What does he say?” 

“Well that depends are you the ‘dirty mistress’ Grey or ‘little’ Grey?” you return the question and she just internally rolls her eyes.

“Of course he says I’m the dirty mistress,” she whispered.

You were about to respond when someone called Meredith’s name. You followed the sound of the voice to see a beautiful brunette girl approaching the two of you. Your eyes widened slightly at the beauty of this one girl.

Her brown doe eyes caught your attention and you smiled ever so slightly, “Cristina needs you to help her with a CT scan. It’s for a patient,” 

“Thank you Lexie,” she said, but before walking away she turns to you, “I’ll page Mark. Try not to flirt with any more nurses while you wait. We already had a case of syphilis, we don’t need another,” 

You let out a heart laugh, “It was nice to finally meet the dirty mistress,” you teased and you knew it was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship. 

“You know Mark?” the beautiful girl named Lexie asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, he’s my brother. I just moved here from Houston, got a call from Dr. Webber himself and was offered a job,” 

“That explains the comment,” she mumbled and you just raised your eyebrows, “Mark’s known to be a player around here and by the looks of it, it runs in the family,” 

“Well, you know what they say, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree,” you said with a shrug. 

She scoffed softly, “Is that my favorite Sloan?” you heard a familiar voice ask. You see Derek walking towards the two of you. You wrap your arms around them and pat his back in the process.

“I hope I’m your favorite Sloan,” you teased, “Where is my brother anyway?”

“I have no idea, but I heard you got a job here. You’re here to give me a run for my money huh?” 

 “Wait, your specialty is neuro?” Lexie asked.

“Yep and to answer your question Derek I am definitely going to give you a run for your money. Head of neuro will be mine,” you joked as he rolled his eyes.

“Did someone forget to tell me that my baby sister got a job at my hospital?” you heard his voice boom through the lobby. You rolled your eyes playfully as he hugged you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you got a job here or better question how many nurses numbers have you gotten?” he asked and the two of you laughed. 

You reached into your pocket, pulling out pieces of paper, “I taught you well!” 

Lexie who was still standing there scoffed as Derek just let out a sigh, “The two of you are insufferable,” she stated annoyed before walking away.

You looked at her as she walked away, “Is she single?”

“Nope, that’s off limits for the both of you. You’re not going to put her through that,” Derek stated and you let out a sigh.

You were snapped back into the harsh reality as Lexie tried her best to squeeze your hand, “Y/N, I still remember being on your service. You came to talk to me about our patient...” she was lost in thought before she started speaking again, “It was a Jane Doe after a tragic car crash and I was having a rough day because of my dad. Then you, you heard me snap at Meredith...” 

She started to trail off and you nodded, “I remember,” 

You were walking up to where Meredith and Lexie were talking. Meredith started to walk away as Lexie followed behind her. You posted at the nurse’s counter next to where they were standing to right down a quick note, when you heard them argue.

“My mother was born in March. He lied, he’s a liar. And I’m glad. Really, I’m glad that you found him charming. I’m sure he was delightful. He’s a blast after five drinks not so much after nine though, he gets a little weepy and mean,” you overheard her say. 

You were about to walk away and find her later when she yelled, “He’s a drunk, Meredith. He probably came in and told you how wonderful you are. How sad he is that he doesn’t get to spend more time with you. You know, yesterday he told me I was his favorite daughter. The day before I was an ungrateful bitch. The week before he wrote me a check for 20,000 dollars because he said I deserved everything life had to offer because he was so proud of me. A lifetime’s worth of proud. So you can’t listen to anything he says,” her voice started cracking and your face softened, “Because it’s not about you. It’s about a pint and a half of Dewar’s. So thank you for letting me know I needed to keep a better eye on him. Thanks.” 

She started to walk away and you stood in front of her trying to get her to calm down. You noticed the tears forming in her eyes, “No please don’t,” she pushed you away gently before walking away.

You immediately followed after her to the attendants break room. You looked the door behind you as she sat on the couch, placing her head in her hands. You walked over and sat right next to her, sitting there in silence.

There were a few moments of silence before you spoke up again, “I know what it’s like to have a drunk dad. You’re not alone. You don’t have to take this on all on your own,” you whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder, “If you want you can rest up in here. I can handle Jane Doe until you’re ready. If any of the attendants give you shit about being here, let them know I gave you permission. If you need anyone to talk to, I’m here,” 

Lexie squeezed your hand, bringing you back from the memory, yet again, “That was the first time I saw you as an actual person. Not someone who just wanted to mess around with people’s feelings, an actual person,” she smiled softly through the pain, “But I didn’t fall in love with you until the night at my dad’s house. You came to pick me up to take me to Meredith’s party and my dad was drunk and he was mean and he-” 

“I know, I remember,” 

You pulled up to Lexie’s house. You were supposed to meet up with one of the many nurse’s you’ve been hooking up with it. But you cut it off, you cut them all off. 

After you comforted her, all you could think about was her. How intelligent she was. How sweet and kind she tries to be with everyone around her. Yeah, she was beautiful, but she was so much more than that.

That’s the only time you’ve ever felt that towards anyone.

You knocked on the door, you waited patiently. One minute would pass and you decided to knock again. But no one answered.

You turned the door handle and surprisingly it opened. You looked around the room to see shattered glass all over the floor and Thatcher passed out on the couch.

Lexie was sitting on the kitchen floor. A deep cut on her forehead. Her eyes red and puffy as she swept the shattered glass with a small broom.

“Lexie! What happened?” she jumped at the sound of her voice.

She sniffled, “He-he got mean and he didn’t like that I was going out. He through his beer bottle at me, not just one either,”

You looked at the empty beer case next to the couch and you pulled her up from the floor. Immediately, pulling her out of that horrid house.

The car ride was silent as you felt your blood boil. You forgot all about Meredith’s party and went straight to your apartment. The two of you entered and you immediately grabbed your first aid kit.

Lexie sat on the kitchen counter as you stitched up her forehead. The two of you in a comfortable silence. Once you finished bandaging her, you helped her off the counter.

“Are you okay?” you whispered and she nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“I-I’m fine,” her voice cracked as tears poured out her eyes.

She let out loud sobs as she broke down onto the floor. You scooped her up in your arms to keep her from falling onto the floor.

You held her tight as she buried her face into your chest, “Shhh I got you. You’re safe now. You’re okay.”

That night she fell asleep in your arms. You picked her up and laid her gently onto your bed. You tucked her in, placing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I promise I’m always going to protect you,”

You started to get up when she squeezed your hand, “Please just stay with me,”

From that night on, you decided to be better. To do better. To be someone she deserved.

But once you got there, it was too late.

You were going over to Mark’s house to surprise him with takeout, when you walked into something you didn’t ever want to walk in on.

Mark and Lexie were cuddled up on the couch. Their clothes on the floor as a blanket hanged loosely over it.

It was too late. You were too late.

“I thought you hated me for a while. Your whole demeanor changed around me,” Lexie said, her breathing still heavy.

You heard shouts from Meredith from behind you as Cristina kept on yelling for her shoe, “I could never hate you,”

You walked into the attendant’s break room to see Mark and Lexie being all couple-like, “Hey Y/N,”

You have them a tight lipped smile before going to pour your coffee, “You’re not supposed to be here,” you stated simply.

“What?” Lexie asked.

You didn’t look up from the coffee pot, “It’s the attendants’ break room. Residents aren’t allowed. You need to leave,”

“Y/N, seriously?” Mark asked.

“I don’t make the rules,” you whispered.

You could feel Lexie’s stare piercing at you, “It’s fine Mark, I’ll leave,”

“What’s going on with you, Y/N?” Mark asked.

“Nothing I’m fine,”

You don’t know what came over. You gave up on trying to be better. Do better. So there you were with a nurse sleeping on top of you and the only person you could think of was Lexie.

Then of course like it always does the worst happened. Lexie came bursting through the room, “I uh I’m sorry. But Hunt wants to meet with us, Mark, Derek, Meredith, Cristina, and Arizona,”

“I’ll be right there,” you threw on your clothes and walked right past her.

“What’s your problem with me?” she asked as you guys were walking to Hunt’s office.

“Nothing,”

“Obviously there’s something, you won’t even look at me,” she stated a hint of sadness in her voice.

“There’s nothing. We’re fine,”

“Just stop and talk to me!” she yelled.

“There’s nothing to talk about Lexie. You already have one Sloan in your life. You don’t need two. Remember the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree,” you snapped.

“Y/N, I’m dying,” she whispered and you shook your head. The adrenaline coursing through your body.

“No, you’re not dying today, okay?” you whispered.

You started to get up again when she grabbed her hand, “Please just stay with me. I have one more thing I want to say,”

“I always thought you were-you were a player. You didn’t want to settle down, you just wanted fun. But that didn’t stop me from loving you. If things were different, if we were different,” she whispered and your eyes started to tear up, “I never loved Mark the way I loved you. And he knew that, we both knew that.”

“Stop, okay? No goodbyes. You’re going to become and amazing neurosurgeon, Lexie. You have so much more to learn. A whole life ahead of you,” you told her, “You’ll settle down with kids and a husband or wife. Someone who makes you happy,”

It was her turn to shake her head, “I don’t get that. We will never get that together. I know you hate me, but Y/N, you’ll always be my favorite what if,”

That was all it took for you to get up. You don’t know what came over you, but you stood up and you tried lifting the stupid plane metal off of her. You let out a groan as you started pushing it off.

Hysterical strength is what they called it. When your adrenaline and your hormones and body chemistry kicks in during a dangerous situation. You pushed the plane right off of her.

Then started to immediately patching her up. Not too long later a rescue plane arrived. Lexie started falling in and out of consciousness.

You sat in the emergency room as your hand was getting checked out. They rushed Lexie back to the OR, you didn’t care if your hand lost all its function. All you cared about was her.

“I always knew,” Mark whispered to you as the two of you sat next to each other in the emergency room, “That she loves you and that you love her. I don’t know why I thought that I could get into the middle of it,”

He places his hand in your numb one, “She’s going to be okay,”

“The last thing she’s going to think about me is that I hated her. I never hated her,” I whispered.

You don’t know how long it was before the doctor came out, looking straight at me, “She’s okay and she’s asking for you.”

You shot out from your bed and rushed to her room. She sat there, her hair slightly messy as she gave you a small smile, “Hi,”

You immediately ran towards her, cupping her face as gently as possible, before pulling her closer. The two of your lips finally touching. It was magic. Sparks flying as the two of you kissed.

“I never hated you. I could never hate you. I’m sorry I was just so jealous and upset about you and-“ you started to ramble as you pulled away.

“I know,”

“I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you,” you whispered, “Please don’t ever leave me. You’re too special to be a what if,”

Fifteen years later

“So mommy used to have super strength?” your youngest daughter turned to Lexie and you chuckled softly.

Lexie nodded, “She still does. Whenever you’re in danger, mommy will help activate her super strength and help you,” Lexie bopped her nose as the two of you told her, her favorite bedtime story.

“She’s like the Hulk!” your son added and you laughed before ruffling his hair.

“You guys really set the bar for love stories didn’t you?” your teenage daughter asked, rolling her eyes playfully after hearing the semi true fairytale story for a thousandth time.

“Oh definitely. You can try to beat us, but you’ll fail,” you teased her and Lexie pushed you playfully.

You guys laugh, “Bedtime everyone!” Lexie announced.

“Goodnight,” the two of you said to your youngest daughter, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Before hugging your son and daughter.

The two of you settled into bed as Lexie curled up into your arms. She placed her hand in yours, squeezing it ever so softly. The feeling of her hand in your once injured one was comforting.

“You’re my better half, did you know that?” you whispered, “You bring out the better half of me,”

“And you bring out mine,”

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[neonponders]

This isn’t what @memes-saved-me had in mind for this post but lol (read their tags, they’re delightful) 

Thinking about a younger Billy and an older Steve today ✨

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

Billy scratched at the hair on his nape. He wanted to grow it out; really had always wanted long hair. And now, as he peered at the other sophomores trying to fluff themselves bigger to match the juniors and seniors, he just might.

Long hair was in. Mullets, rock star manes, extensions - even the opposite. Women with buzz cuts and pixie faux hawks. Pleasant little surprises in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy might finally indulge in that.

Plenty in this town was backwards as all hell. Girls wearing white stockings like it was the fifties. Boys and girls alike clearly letting having learned hair styling from their out-of-date parents. Two girls with beehives sat in his English class.

But it was fine, because there was plenty of present-day styling, and Billy wouldn’t get any shit at home for matching his peers.

Cherry Lane. The most backwards spot in Indiana.

But that’s okay, too, because small town people need occupations. Parties.

A cool senior with teased, black hair walked right up to him and handed him a neon orange sheet of paper. He saw others holding similar invitations all day. 

Party on Friday night. Address, dress code, and everything.

Caught him by surprise, that a dress code would be needed for one of these things, but the invitation just said ~casual attire~ and someone in his Advanced Biology class told him that Tina hosts the best shin digs, often with costume themes.

So he went. The late summer evening was still humid as all hell, making the party split between the massive house and the matching yard a convenient way to start a weekend.

He’d had alcohol before. Enough to know he preferred tequila drinks over vodka and gin, but the safest way to wake up the next day was to just stick to beer. No matter how bitter or sharply carbonated some of it was made.

Maybe that’s why he heard people hollering about King Steve.

Keg stands weren’t original to Hawkins, but Billy preferred them next to a bonfire on a beach. But people were really yelling for this king to do the damn thing - 

“Steve, why are you even here? You graduated in May,” Tina’s voice cut through the din.

“I live down the street! You really think you’re making this much noise without me noticing? And all of you shut the hell up! I’ll do a keg stand the day one of you dip shits can actually beat my record.”

Another surprise:

Steve Harrington.

Billy’s dumb luck had him three years behind, so he couldn’t look at that face in the hallways. Sit behind that head of glossy, bouncy hair in European History. He still lived in town, apparently. Right down the street. Billy asked around and discovered he worked at the mall and attended the community college -

“Heard you been asking about me.”

Billy stared wide-eyed over his beer. He recovered quickly, but not before Steve bounced on the balls of his feet, smug. That hair was really distracting.

These people really gossip about everything.

“I didn’t think anybody actually went by a title like that.”

“I didn’t put it on my resume, that’s for sure.” Steve’s smirk grew into a smile. Christ, the guy really had that Indiana, home town handsome thing to his face.

That was dangerous. Billy’s gut told him so, the way it bruised like someone had poked it. And wanted to be poked again.

“Let’s do this properly. Steve.” He held his hand out.

It wasn’t queer to accept a handshake. “Billy,” he replied.

“Hargrove?”

“Jesus,” he scoffed involuntarily, releasing Steve’s large hand. His weight shifted over his feet. “Everybody knows everything here.”

“Not everything,” Steve said. His voice sounded...reassuring? But the way his eyes blinked...and a darkness slipped behind his eyes like a curtain. Adults liked to call it maturity. Wisdom beyond years. Billy called it ghosts. Everyone had ghosts behind their eyes. But...he had a hard time imagining what ghosts this pretty senior in suburban America would already have.

Then again, Billy knew better.

Except, as the party progressed and the weekend flowed into a new week, Billy really couldn’t imagine what made Steve slouch a little, and what made his eyes fade out of a conversation. Billy probably should have put more attention into how much he’d begun seeking the guy out.

He worked in the ice cream parlor at the mall. The uniform was equal measures ridiculous and hilarious, but his coworker was cool as hell. Robin. Not Steve’s girlfriend, even though they carpooled to work and community college.

Steve’s house proved just as luxurious as Tina’s, with a pool to boot. A house which supposedly stayed empty more often than it hosted its own family. Steve notoriously didn’t host parties, which....seemed uniquely odd.

Apart from Billy visiting the ice cream shop, it seemed Steve’s only other visitors were high school freshman. Which was weird. That’s weird, right? Then again, Billy was ball and chained to eight hours a day, five days a week to high school. There was plenty of time for Steve to be with friends his own age.

Except he showed up at the next party on Halloween.

Tina’s house boasted a surprising number of Hawkins graduated seniors, forcing the party all the way out onto the street.

Just like before, Steve manifested beside Billy, announcing himself with fingertips brushing his slowly growing, weak little mullet. “Growing that out?”

Steve’s already heavy eyelids were heavier with alcohol. Billy had his customary cup of beer, but his cheeks flushed for a different reason. He had to rub the back of his neck to make the tickle stop.

“Yeah. Maybe it’ll touch my shoulders next year.”

“Have you trimmed it?”

Billy frowned at him. He’d heard some things come out of Steve’s mouth that were endearing in a ‘bless his heart’ kind of way, and this was among them. “No, that defeats the point of making it longer.”

Steve shook his head and waved for him to follow. “Come here. I’ll trim it.”

“You’re not cutting my hair,” Billy scoffed. And followed.

Upstairs.

Billy did his best not to look around the living room; to see any eyes apart from the ones he imagined on his backside. He followed at a leisurely pace. Not eager to be with King Harrington anywhere...

The guy walked right into the closed master bedroom. Billy stood outside of it, stunned at his audacity and the fact that no one was inside it already - 

“You coming?”

Billy’s not a coward -

Actually he is. But he’s an overeager sophomore with a dangerous crush even more.

Steve dug through the master bathroom’s drawers until he found a pair of scissors in their own case. “Sit on the tub.”

By tub, he meant jacuzzi edge. Billy perched. Steve gripped his shoulder to step into the tub with a comb that smelled of foreign hair product and aftershave. Billy’s nose wrinkled. “Wash that first.”

Then he jumped at the tub faucet turning on right beside his ass. Steve laughed. “Chill out. I’m washing it.”

Billy settled with a disgruntled shake of his head. “My hair is curly. You’re not supposed to brush it at all.”

“You’re in the hands of The Hair Harrington, sweetheart. Just relax.”

His shoulders sagged right underneath the weight of sweetheart.

I’m so screwed - 

Of all people to show up in the doorway, Robin from Scoops showed up with an energy that insinuated more sobriety than the guy wielding scissors.

Her mouth hung open like she had come with something to say, but then she sputtered through laughter. “Oh shit. Are you consenting to this?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “If he cuts my ear, I’m beating his ass.”

“I’d appreciate more faith from you, Buckley. I cut your bangs for you.”

Billy chirped, “Really?” admittedly feeling a bit better.

Steve intercepted with the order, “Are you gonna play music or what? I’m so tired of Tina’s music.”

That’s how Billy wound up in a bathroom with college freshmen trimming his ends and styling his hair while Steve and Robin shout-sang to Whitney Houston.

It was great.

Steve curled the top of his hair so he had ringlets falling over his bold brows. Steve, who had his hands all over Billy’s head until he washed the hair down the drain and filled the tub for a bubble bath. Billy scrutinized himself with a handheld mirror until Steve wrapped his arms around him and they tumbled backward into the wet landing.

Tina was hardly pleased to find the three of them making a mess of the jacuzzi, but she sassed a quick thank you for warding off people trying to fuck in her parents’ bed. Billy didn’t have words; only laughter at Robin putting her hair into a wet mohawk and Steve piling bubbles onto his head.

Steve insisted they go back to his house afterward. “It’s November and we’re soaked. Your car will be fine. I can come back and park it in my driveway if you’re that worried.”

That wasn’t the problem.

“It’s fine that your parents are never home, but mine will only recently lifted my curfew for good behavior.”

Somehow, he convinced Steve and Robin to drive him back to his house, at the expense of letting them change at Steve’s first. Billy had his eyes on a beautiful Camaro and was just a few more months of allowance and part time jobs away from having her.

It was his first time in Steve’s house. He had to admit, he preferred Tina’s layout and decor, but he got to wander around. He saw Robin use one of the guest rooms. He saw Steve’s....incredibly boring room. And said as much.

“A prison cell has more personality.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Are you ready to go?”

It wasn’t until Billy lay in his own bed that those words tumbled through his brain. His fingertips moved through his still-styled hair. It felt better with those dead ends gone. Steve did a good job. Steve liked Whitney Houston and Blondie and a little of everything, really. Steve cared about his appearance enough to be a self-taught stylist.

Steve didn’t have a lot of furniture in his room. Clutter on the dresser and desk, sure, but all of it monochrome or neutral colors. Steve who had an old BMW, house, and surely a bank account to match, but didn’t buy anything in excess. Like he wasn’t allowed to, or something. Billy indulged every scent he got on things he wanted, but Steve didn’t.

Steve had a nailed bat in his trunk. Billy heard it rolling around on their way back to his house, and finally bent over to look under the seats and saw it.

Steve was a walking contradiction. A contradiction who smelled good but didn’t say much when Billy and Robin talked about history. Who started giving Billy free ice cream but never asked about Billy’s stepsister. Who gave Billy rides and gave him the hookup to the high-paying neighbors of Loch Nora for mowed lawns and dogs walked.

Steve helped him get his car sooner than he would’ve otherwise but didn’t ask for anything in return.

Steve, who was always available for a good time, but looked sad when left with his thoughts.

Billy didn’t take well to not being the center of attention. He’d grown up with an interrogation lamp over his head, and sought positive interaction everywhere else. He got so much of it from Steve, that the occasions where Steve bumped against him...refused him, or ignored him, or reminded Billy that he was a rinky dink sophomore lit a match in his belly. And he’d swallowed gasoline for too much of his life.

“That’s something a virgin says.”

Billy couldn’t even remember what he’d just said. He was already, instantly, seeing the glow of embers on the fringe of his vision. “Excuse me?”

Steve shrugged as he got up from his couch. “It’s whatever. It’s fine. Just showing your hand, is all.”

Billy couldn’t believe it. Steve was either the biggest idiot in Hawkins - which he knew wasn’t true considering there was a real cesspool that smoked underneath the bleachers - or he was so far in denial that Billy had a whole new reason to be pissed.

An involuntary sound left Steve when Billy came up behind him and pushed him against the wall underneath the stairs.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Billy wasn’t some cute sophomore. He stood toe to toe with Steve, barely an inch shorter. If this is what it took for Steve to realize that, fine.

To realize that Billy wasn’t some teenager scared shitless of a girls’ bra -

Steve regained his footing, and closed the distance between their mouths. It was small, soft, and brief. Rationality should have made Billy step away. Punch him, maybe. But Billy wasn’t rational. His shock held him statuesque, barely breathing while Steve moved a hand to cradle the side of his head and neck -

A sound left Billy this time, as Steve angled his mouth over Billy’s. Where he learned Billy was scared, so scared of Steve. His body dashed rationality against the wall and kissed him back tentatively, and then earnestly, just trying to keep up until Steve’s other hand framed him in. As Steve pushed against him until Billy walked backwards to have himself pressed against the wall.

He felt drunk as his hands let go of Steve’s shirt to hold onto the curvature of his ribs. He panted while Steve kissed his throat and washed Billy’s senses with his warm, sweet fragrance; his hair brushing Billy’s face and inspiring him to turn his face into Steve’s scalp. Inhale him into his lungs.

Billy didn’t know what game they were playing. But Steve outplayed him.

[charlie-clark]

Name: Charles Andrew Watkins Clark Nickname: Charlie Birthday/Age: March 2, 1996 (26) Gender: Male Sexuality: Bisexual Species: Mutant

Triggers: Death, Car Accident, Kidnapping, Abuse

Background

Charlie was born in a small Texan town of just under 300 people, not far out of Houston. It was a town that people had lived in for generations, where everyone knew everyone’s business and grudges lasted forever. You knew that the Robinson’s and Jackson’s had been feuding since 1980 because Martha Robinson had been caught having an affair with William Jackson; and that the Millers wouldn’t do business with Phillip’s because apparently, they had sold moldy cheese to them back in 2002. Which is why it was such a big deal with Andrea Watkins suddenly moved into town, and had a baby just a few months after arriving.

Rumors swirled about what could have happened, and who the baby’s father was; but Andrea was tight lipped about the whole situation. Simply saying that she had needed a change of pace and had found a job in the area. The baby’s father wouldn’t be involved. She had a way to shut down a conversation with a simple smile, and a tone that left no room for discussion. When Charlie was old enough to notice the fact that everyone else seemed to have dad’s but he didn’t; his mother’s response was a small, sad smile. She would say that his dad had had to leave and that he wouldn’t be coming back. Charlie never got the chance to ask her about it on a deeper level.

Charlie grew up in a small, cramped apartment; where he shared the room with his mother for a number of years. It was above a convenience store run by a nice couple; Quincy and Zia. Charlie would sometimes go down just to look at all the items, the colors jumping at him. They didn’t have much but if there was one thing Andrea knew how to do, it was how to make a dollar last. She had found a job waitressing at the local diner, and worked herself to the bone to help the two of them have enough. If she was unable to find a sitter for Charlie (which was often), he came with her to work. He would be stashed in a corner booth; and he quickly learned to keep himself quiet. Charlie would spend time coloring in old, forgotten coloring books found stashed in a locker; or learning how to read by going over the menu. His mother would help him practice his counting by letting him count her tips.

As he grew older, he would use it as a space to do homework. He had the route from his school to the diner memorized; and the number for it was written on all of his school forms. His mother still worked as a waitress but had moved up the ranks to assistant manager. They had moved a few streets over into a two-bedroom apartment. There had also been a guy, Thomas, who came by the place every so often. Life was going well. Until it wasn’t.

  A month or two after Charlie’s 10th birthday, Andrea got called into work on a early Saturday morning. She had paused, cord wrapped around her fingers as she glanced out the window; barely able to see out of it from the rain that was splattering against it; eyes falling back towards the warm cup of coffee that sat on the counter. It would be easy to turn it down, to take the day off. But she couldn’t do that. Bills were due next week and Charlie had been talking about wanting to try baseball in the spring. Baseball involved things like a glove, cleats, a bat, a helmet-things that she had to budget for. So instead, she agreed and set the phone back on its hook. She crept into Charlie’s room, and woke him up carefully. This was a routine that Charlie was used to, so he got dressed half asleep; pulling on his rain jacket over a shirt and jeans that had one or two patched holes. As they went to the beat-up car, Andrea asked him what kind of breakfast he wanted. That helped to perk Charlie up, and he talked about how he wanted the stack of pancakes that could come in a random cartoon character’s face.

  The car ride was different the normal. Usually, Andrea would have the radio on; either the news or a random station that was playing music. But today, it was off and Charlie noticed how his mother’s hands gripped the steering wheel. The windshield wipers fought valiantly against the rain but it was a losing battle. ‘It’s like everyone forgets how to drive as soon as it starts to rain a little’ It was something that his mother had always said when the weather was like this. Today though, she was quiet, lips down in a frown as she tried to see the road in front of her. It was a route that they had taken thousands of times, but right now it looked unfamiliar- and something told Charlie that he shouldn’t try to talk or distract his mom. Instead, he looked out his window. They were stopped at a streetlight, the red making it through the downpour. Up the street, Charlie could see a bright blue car traveling quickly. Charlie knew how the streetlights worked. If one was green, then one was red and they wouldn’t both be green. So, he knew that when their light turned green, that the one the blue car was in front of should have turned red.

But the Blue car didn’t stop, and he turned his head to say something to his mom-confusion already filling his tone. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the blue car getting closer and closer, and suddenly a very loud horn was blowing. Andrea cursed suddenly, loudly, something that wasn’t normal. Charlie had a second to look back in the direction of the sound; and his eyes caught the sight of the car’s hood coming right for his door. 

His eyes darted around, as if desperately searching for an escape, but there wasn’t one. Charlie shut his eyes at the last moment, and braced for impact. But it didn’t come. Instead, Charlie suddenly felt like he had just gone into a shower with all his clothes on. There was a cacophony of noise happening; yelling mixed with car alarms. He opened his eyes slowly, the world spinning for a moment, and found himself standing on the sidewalk behind where the blue car had been; because now he saw it in front of him. Its front bumper had impacted the back seat, where he had been just a moment ago. This had made his mother’s car turn sharply. There had been a car behind them that they hadn’t seen, who hadn’t see the accident until it was too late and it slammed into the back; causing it jump forward. Charlie stared at it, unmoving. 

A person who had been standing at the bus stop across the way ran over, gripping his shoulders which caused Charlie to look up. They were shouting something, but Charlie wasn’t listening. The person forcibly moved Charlie to the sidewalk, away from the crash; and before long he was talking to a police officer while he was being checked over by an EMT. They said his mom had been taken to the hospital, and that they would take him to her soon. They asked about other family members but Charlie just shook his head. It had always just been the two of them. He saw the person who had run over to him talk to the police, and they kept glancing towards Charlie. Eventually, the EMT’s cleared him and he took a ride in the back of the police car to the hospital. The one was a nice lady, who tried to ask him about school-but Charlie wasn’t really interested in talking. 

Once they were at the hospital, Charlie got dropped off with a social worker who seemed more interested in talking on her phone then talking to Charlie. He sat in the uncomfortable chair, his legs hanging off the end and not quite touching the ground. He’s not sure how long he sat there, but eventually; someone came out to talk to him. It was an older woman, her black hair tied into a bun, her green eyes tired. She knelt down next to him, resting a hand on Charlie’s knee. “Are you Charlie?” She asked, and Charlie nodded quickly. The woman sighed softly “My name is Rachel, I was one of your mother’s surgeons.” She stated, pausing for a moment. “Your mother was hurt in a car crash, you know that, right?” Charlie nodded again, this time more slowly. “She was really hurt, and we did everything we could. But we weren’t able to save her. She died. I’m very sorry.” 

Rachel may have said something else after that, but Charlie wouldn’t know. He was caught on the word ‘died’. He had heard that before. When his fish, Greg, was found floating at the top of his bowl. Or when he had noticed that Mr. Jenkins had stopped coming out to water the plants and he had asked his mother about it. She had tucked a piece of golden hair behind her ear and nodded-moving to sit down next to him. Andrea had explained that Mr. Jenkins had died, and that it meant that he wasn’t coming back. If his mom had died, that meant that she wasn’t coming back? But he had just seen her. They had just been talking about pancakes. The emotions that had been kept at bay by the fear and uncertainty of everything were released and he felt the tears start to fall down his face as his breathing quickened. 

The doctor in front of him moved, allowing the social worker to move into her space to talk to him. She was saying words, but Charlie couldn’t focus enough to understand them. It all sounded underwater to him. She kept trying to talk to him, trying to move into his eye line and he just didn’t want to deal with it. Charlie shook his head, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. She was too close, there was no way out. He felt his pulse quicken and his eyes darted around the room. They landed on a spot by the door. He shut his eyes again, mostly so he didn’t have to look at the social worker when he suddenly heard a gasp. Charlie’s eyes opened, and again he felt a sense of dizziness-like he had stood up too fast- and widened when he realized that he was now standing in the spot by the door. The chair he had been in sat vacant and the doctor stared at him, hand raised to her lips. 

He probably should have run. Probably could’ve too. But he just stood where he was, and kept looking between the chair where he had been and where he stood now. It didn’t make sense. Charlie could see the social worker on the phone in the corner, staring at him with a look of fear, which confused Charlie even more. It wasn’t long before two men came into the room. Charlie didn’t even have time to open his mouth before he felt a prick and burn of a needle go into his shoulder and the world fell into darkness. 

When he opened them, he was in a hospital bed, and there was a nurse writing something down. She noticed that he was awake and smiled softly. Asked him if he had ever heard of the word ‘mutant’. Charlie frowned. He had heard it on the news before, and in hushed tones of grown-ups, but other than that, not really. She nodded and lightly touched his shoulder, but didn’t offer anything else. 

A few hours later, a few new people came through. Said they were apart of KAPPA Institute, and that they had been told that there was someone here who fit what they were looking for. The doctor nodded, and signed some of the papers they had with them, while the nurse came up and injected something into Charlie’s IV; saying something about helping him sleep. Charlie didn’t get to ask anything else before the world blurred and darkened again. This time, when he woke up, he was in a much different place. A place that he would quickly learn was not safe. It would be another 15 years before he was able to see the outside world again. In that time, Charlie lost any sort of innocence that he had once held. His mind and body both scarred by his time there. When he was finally able to escape, and go outside the concrete walls, he almost forgot how to breath. He wasn’t the same person who had entered those doors all those years ago, and it felt weird sharing the same last name. That life he had been living was far removed from who Charlie was now. So he picked a name that he saw on a street sign to go by now, and that was the end of it.

He’s been out almost a year now, and he’s still adjusting. Most nights, he wakes up in the middle of the night, heart pounding from a nightmare. He’s found work as a bartender, the loud noises and busy work flow help keep his mind occupied. Working a second job as a mechanic helps to keep his hands busy, and offers him an environment where he can just zone out. Charlie’s just trying to get used to being a person rather than a subject again, and sometimes that’s harder then he would like to admit.

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Two / Mocha

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier learns his fate. You take him out to that dinner you promised.

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language, mentions of food, tooth-rotting fluff. I mean it. 

A/N: HI FRIENDS if you can’t already tell from my blog, I LOVE red velvet cake and this chapter is highly self indulgent. This fic is so near and dear to me because I really relate to the reader and put more of myself in her than I do others. I hope you guys enjoy!!!

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Mocha: espresso, steamed milk, and chocolate. Beloved for the sweet taste.

To his surprise, Javier didn’t get fired. In fact, they didn’t even mention Los Pepes. He walked in there, sweating bullets and filled with anxiety and caffeine, only to learn that they weren’t the review board. They were operations, and asked Javier what he knew about the Calí cartel. Afraid it was a trap, he didn’t answer, until the man across from him cracked a smile and told him about his new assignment.

“Your work with Escobar and the Medellín cartel was unconventional, but we needed it. If you’ll accept our offer, we’d like to assign you to Calí to head the investigation into their cartel.”

Javier’s brain froze in shock. He was wordless, staring blankly ahead and furrowing his brow. After a few moments, he mustered out all that he could. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, Agent Peña. With the assignment would additionally come a raise in pay and rank, as well as-”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it.”

“We haven’t finished the offer-”

“I’ll take it, sir. Thank you,” he said, nodding.

“Well… take this,” he said, making Javier stand from the chair across from the room and take the file from his hands. “This is the information you’ll need, including your new pay and details. We are asking that you take at least some of your banked vacation time. You have several months of it, Peña. Our code requires that-” 

Javier’s fully aware of this policy. Use it or lose it. Unfortunately, he’d never had much time or want for vacation while chasing Escobar. What would he do? “Yeah, give me a month off,” he said mindlessly as he opened the file and scanned over the front page, in utter disbelief. He registered his surroundings after a second and looked up. “You won’t regret it, sir. Thank you,” he says and shakes the man’s hand before leaving the room.

Now, Javier stands at a payphone outside of the embassy, dialing your number in his pocket. When you pick up and ask who’s there, he laughs happily. “They didn’t fire me!”

“Congratulations,” you laugh as you realize it must be Javier. “What all happened?”

“I actually got promoted,” he admits, the adrenaline and caffeine rushing through his bloodstream. “It was absolutely crazy. They didn’t even mention Los Pepes or anything, just-”

“Are you ready for me to pick you up now?” You ask, cutting him off. “You can tell me the rest over some food. You need it. You didn’t eat that muffin I brought you.”

“What are you, my mother?” He asks dryly, but he’s too excited to be too annoyed. “No, I’ll head back to the hotel. Pick me up in 30 minutes?”

“Sounds great. Congratulations, Javier,” you tell him, grinning into the receiver. 

“Call me Javi.”

“Okay… Javi,” you say, biting your lip to hold back from giggling. “I’ll see you then.”

There’s a click and the phone line goes dead. You start giggling happily, flopping back onto the couch. Javier makes his way to the hotel, smiling. He lights up a cigarette, sighing at the way the warmth of the lighter contrasts the cold and snowy air. 

-

Holy fuck. You’re going on what could possibly be considered a date with a really hot guy and you need to get dressed, quick. You hurry around your tiny apartment, throwing on something nice-looking and messing with your hair. You spritz on some perfume, straighten yourself in the mirror, and rush out to the street. 

Georgetown is beautiful in the snow, you smile to yourself, but you wince as you realize the snow might slow you down. Your car is a piece of shit, you have to admit, but you love it. Her name is Whitney, in honor of Whitney Houston, and you beg and plead with her to behave as you make your way to Javier’s hotel. 

The radio plays some music quietly, and a handsome dark-haired man stands outside of the hotel, smoking a cigarette when you arrive. You flash your high-beams at him and he smiles as he puts out the cigarette and tosses it in the trash. “Hi,” you almost sing as he gets in the car. “Are you a hugger?”

“Am I a what?” He frowns and asks, looking at you. 

“Do you like hugs?” You ask, as if it’s obvious.

“I… don’t really receive many. They’re nice, I guess,” he shrugs as he looks you up and down quickly. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he tells you.

Warmth collects in your chest at his words. “Well, thank you. And I ask because I wanted to give you a hug of congratulations. I’m a big hugger,” you shrug a little and tilt your head as you look at him. He looks nice, in a button-up and those tight jeans you saw him in earlier.

A car honks behind you and you jump, awkwardly waving behind you and taking off so the next car can drive up to the hotel. Javier chuckles a little. “Well… I do like hugs, I guess. No one has ever asked me that.”

You look at him briefly, with confusion in your eyes, before they find the road again. “What a sad, sad life,” you chuckle. “I suppose. Are you… like, recently single? Did you date when you were in Colombia?” You ask innocently.

Javier exhales in a light chuckle. “No, never really had a relationship. Lots of flings,” he admits, finding that to be the best word to describe his situation. “But no relationships.”

You nod along, eyes scanning the road as you drive to dinner. “I see.”

“How about you?” He asks, wanting to deflect the attention from himself. That seems to be a common theme with him, you’ve noticed. All the conversations center around you, no matter how hard you try to talk about him. 

“Well, no. I haven’t really gone out much or done anything, really. I’m a bit of a homebody, but once I’m out I enjoy it. Problem is you can’t find a date from the couch.”

You reach the restaurant not much later, parking outside. You get out after chatting a little more, and Javi is taken by surprise when you wrap your arms around him in a big hug. “Uh, hi?” He laughs. He instinctively returns it, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed to his. He hasn’t had anything so tender in a long time. 

“I told you, it’s a congratulatory hug!” You say with a grin as you squeeze him then break away. “I’m happy for you.”

He smiles down at you. “I… thank you. That was nice.”

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from,” you tell him and lead him inside, opening the door and heading into the restaurant. 

-

Javier is a fantastic conversationalist. He tells stories with his hands, vividly explaining stories from the chase for Escobar. He tells you of his partner, Steve, and his crazy methods; about Colonel Carillo, who he still thinks is one of the strongest men he’s ever met; of Stechner, who you already want to gut-punch if you ever meet. 

You watch him and admire the way his eyes dart about when he’s telling a story, the way he draws maps on the table with his fingers that you have no hope of understanding. 

The food is great but the company is better. Javier’s laugh is a beautiful sound, one rarely heard by others. He listens to you just as attentively, smiling as you talk about the coffee shop, about Georgetown, all of your life. 

By the end of the night, it’s easy to declare that you really, really like Javier. You like the way his lips quirk up in a smile, his intelligence and humor. You don’t want the night to end, truly. 

When the bill comes, he takes it before you can even try. “Hey, I told you I was paying as a congratulatory dinner,” you frown. 

“That can be another dinner,” he says mindlessly as he signs the receipt. “I always pay on the first date.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” You beam at him, tilting your head, eyes twinkling. 

He smiles as he looks up at you. “I was thinking it was. I have at least a month off work now, to be wherever I want and I have nothing to do. I’d like to properly take my time to get to know you,” he offers, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. 

“It seems like nothing about you is proper, Javi,” you tease and sip your drink, quirking an eyebrow. 

He mirrors you, sipping his drink too. “That’s fair. But we’re in the nation’s capital, I suppose we should be a little more…”

You look at him and try to fill in the blank, smiling. “Practical? Traditional?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know what I meant to say there.”

You chuckle a little. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I like the sound of that.”

-

After dinner, you give Javier a little tour of Georgetown through the windows of your crappy car. The snow from earlier in the day has collected, dusting the tops of window sills and awnings over shop entries. Despite the snow, the car thermometer reads that it’s somewhat warm for the time of year.

There’s one warm little place with glowing lights. Despite the hour of night, it’s clearly open. Javier asks what it is. “Oh, that’s a little bakery,” you comment. “My favorite place, honestly. Their red velvet cupcake is fantastic.”

“That sounds good. I like chocolate more, to be honest,” he comments. 

You continue driving for a few seconds, rolling your eyes. “They have a good one there, but it’s so one-dimensional. It’s just chocolate with chocolate on top. Red velvet is the best because you have the cake and the tangy frosting, and-“

“Pull over?” Javier asks, and you look at him in confusion but pull into a parking spot obediently and quickly. 

Your eyes are wide in confusion. “What?” You ask him, concerned that something is wrong with the car. 

“I’m buying you dessert,” he chuckles and gets out. 

Your heart falls then and there for him. If you haven’t already decided, now you know that there’s no turning back. You want Javier Peña with a passion. “Jesus Christ, you could’ve told me that,” you laugh and turn off the car, getting off and bounding behind him. His long legs have already made strides ahead of you, leaving you to catch up. 

“You wouldn’t have stopped, would you?” He asks, the gentle snow leaving white flakes on his dark coat. He looks so pretty like this, the warm light from inside the bakery glowing against his dark hair. 

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling. “No, maybe not.” He opens the door for you and you thank him and follow him in. 

Javier walks to the counter and wastes no time. “Hi. I’ll take two red velvet cupcakes and two large coffees. How do you take yours?” He asks you as you join him at his side. 

“From my café,” you tease him, before turning to the woman behind the counter with a polite smile and asking for two sugars and two creams. Javier asks for his black. 

The two of you step back while she gets your order ready and you look at him, smiling a little. There are still soft white flakes in his wavy hair, which are slowly melting into water drops. 

You don’t know it, but he’s looking at you just the same. He admires you, smiling a little, just enough the quirk up one side of his mouth. “Thanks for buying,” you tell him and step a little closer. He’s warm, you can feel it radiating off of him, and the shop’s blasting cool air throughout. 

“Like I said,” he chuckles. “I always buy on the first date.” He reaches out to tuck a strand of your stray hair behind your ear. “Would you want to come up to my hotel room to eat the cupcakes?” He offers. 

You shake your head. “I work early tomorrow morning, I shouldn’t.”

Normally, Javier would be disappointed. Normally, he’d want to fuck you on the first date, leave you screaming his name until you can’t help but come back for more. But to his surprise, he doesn’t mind. He has a whole month to be with you, a whole month to fall for the woman he’s already half-lovesick over. “Not a problem,” he nods and walks to the counter as the woman calls that your order is ready. 

He hands you a large coffee, and you take a sip of the warm liquid, sighing. “There’s a little shelter out there,” you say, pointing to a bench with an awning above it to keep it clear from the snow. “Do you want to eat them out there?”

Javier half-smiles and nods. “That sounds good.”

It’s warm for the season, but there’s still a cool breeze. You hurry over and sit on the small bench, Javier sitting next to you. The sides of your thighs touch, and you’re both aware of it, the proximity this small bench forces you to squeeze into. Javier sets the box on his lap and opens it, revealing two red velvet cupcakes. “These look delicious.”

“They are,” you grin and pick one up, licking a bit of the frosting off the top and sighing in content with the taste. Javier watches you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the connotation. You look over at him with wide eyes, holding back a laugh. You both break down giggling at the action, your head falling against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to do that like... that, I swear,” you shake your head as you sit up straight again. 

“You looked good doing it,” he teases you and bumps your shoulder as you unwrap the paper. “I’m going to save mine for later.”

You frown at him. “Come on. I have to be here when you try the best dessert of all time.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m too full. I’ll have it for breakfast tomorrow or something.”

“Javi,” you whine. “There’s no point of you getting two if we don’t eat them together. You have to eat it, come on.”

Javier looks over at your cupcake, which has one bite taken. “Let me take a little bite of yours then.”

An idea strikes and you nod. “Sure,” you say casually, holding it up for him to eat it. When he goes in to bite it, you move it closer to his face, causing the cupcake to smash into his chin and onto his nose.

Javier thinks he’s the one that missed. “Fuck,” he laughs as he crosses his eyes as he looks down at his nose, seeing the cupcake and frosting smeared on his face. He sees you giggling and laughs. “Hey, you didn’t… what the fuck?” He laughs, bringing his face close to yours. “That was uncalled for.”

“You were being a grump. I had to,” you giggle, your face naturally coming closer to his.

“And we don’t even have napkins,” he shakes his head and looks at you. “How can I clean this up?”

Tilting your head, your eyes dart between his, smiling at the dark brown color and the way they soften under your gaze. “I have an idea,” you murmur, cupping the side of Javier’s face and setting the mashed cupcake back in the box. 

Just a moment later, your lips are on his. His eyes have fallen shut and he sighs as you kiss him, a hand finding your waist and pulling you closer to him. He sets the box on the bench behind him and scoots closer, a hand on the side of your neck. 

He tastes like coffee and cream cheese frosting, his lips unbearably soft for such a hardened man. You soften him with your touch, when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. 

He’s in fucking Heaven, he thinks, murmuring your name against your lips. He knows you already, knows the kind of person you are. He’d figured you’d maybe give a chaste kiss on the first date if you liked the person enough. The voracity of your lips against his tells him you might just reciprocate the intensity of the deep ache in his ribs he feels for you. 

After a moment, you break away and smile softly. “I didn’t get all of it,” you frown as you see that there’s still some frosting on Javier’s nose. 

“At least now we match,” he teases and wipes your face of some red crumbs that transferred to your chin with the pad of his thumb. 

You giggle and press your forehead to his, the warmth of his body perfect against yours in the slight chill of the December night. “Will you come visit me at work again tomorrow?” You ask him. 

“Only if you make me a drink that tastes as good as you do.”

-

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[little-diable]

Fluff Alphabet - Jasper Hale

Request by anon: May I request a Jasper hale fluff alphabet please and thank you ☺️ 🥰💖

Took this from @pimaginecollection, enjoy my loves. xxx

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Jasper would take (y/n) on many trips, either on a hike, or even up to the mountains for a weekend. It honestly wouldn’t really matter to him, what they were up to, as long as he’d be able to spend some quality time with her, he’d be happy with snuggling her on the sofa, while they would be watching some old classic movies. 

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

I doubt, that there’d be anything Jasper wouldn’t find beautiful about (y/n), he’d think that she’d be beautiful inside and out.  

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Thanks to his gift, Jasper would know from the get go, if something was wrong with (y/n), she wouldn’t even have to voice it out, something she’d be very grateful for. Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles would be the name of the game, he’d wrap his arms around her, her head would be buried in the crook of his neck, while he’d tell her to take deep breaths. 

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

It would obvious to the both of them, that he’d turn her at one point, so that they’d be able to spend eternity side by side. Jasper would see themselves travel the world together, exploring new places and cultures, at one point he’d take her to Houston and show her where he grew up. 

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Major Jasper Whitlock. Don’t think we need to say anything else about this, do we? 

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Fighting wouldn’t be a regular part of their daily lives, Jasper wouldn’t be one to lash out on her, he’d feel guilty as soon as he’d notice the way she’d turn her back on him, trying to swallow down the wave of sadness that was crashing upon her. They’d only fight, if Jasper or (y/n) would be worried about each other, too into their heads to think straight any longer.  

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Oh, Jasper would be the most grateful partner ever, he’d appreciate every little thing about her and the way she was caring for him, no matter how, no matter what, (y/n) would always have his back, something he’d never forget. 

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

No, absolutely no secrets. Jasper would value honesty, just like (y/n), there wouldn’t be a way to hide stuff from each other anyways, Edward wouldn’t be able to drown out their thoughts and would speak out at one point. 

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

She’d inspire him, to become a better version of him. To talk about his past, knowing all about the cruel things he did, trying to make him understand, that what he did was wrong and there was no way to forget about it. 

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He wouldn’t get jealous, but he’d definitely get possessive relatively quickly, reminding her once again, who she belongs to. 

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Ohhh, let me tell you, Jasper would be an exceptionally good kisser. (Y/n) would be ‘addicted’ to his lips, trying to sneak in a good amount of kisses every hour. 

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

I’d say, it would be pretty obvious for Jasper from the start, that she was the one, after all he would have to realize the signs, that she would be his mate. He would take her on a few dates and would try and make her understand the concept of mates, it would probably take (y/n) a while to understand it. 

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Yes they definitely do, after all they belong to the Cullen clan, Alice would go all out for their wedding, just as big and wonderful as Bella and Edwards had been. He would take her on a trip, to one of her favorite spots, they would probably stargaze and Jasper would prepare a long monologue about the fact, that he won’t be able to survive, without her by his side. 

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Darlin’ 

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He’d shower her with love and affection, maybe not so much in the public eye, but definitely behind closed doors or at home. They’d hold hand in school and share a few kisses, but as soon as they’d be on their own, it would be a different story. It would be pretty obvious to their friends and family, so there was no reason to hide their feelings anyways. 

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Jasper wouldn’t be one to brag, of course he’d be proud to have her as his mate and wouldn’t have a problem with kissing her in front of other people, but he wouldn’t go all out in public. 

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

I mean he’s a vampire, he’s got a special gift, I think that helps a lot. 

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He definitely would be creative, he’d think about date ideas, trying to surprise her with new stuff every time, he’d love to watch her eyes light up as she’d kiss him and thank him for taking her there. Jasper would be pretty romantic, he’d take his time in making her happy, he’d put his heart into making things work.  

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Oh yes, he’d be supportive, would have her back no matter what and help her through every decision. There wouldn’t be a thing he wouldn’t support, when it came to achieving her goals. 

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Oh Major Jasper Hale would definitely be up to try out new things. 

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

This is pretty self explanatory, thanks to his gift. He’d know her like the back of his hand, would be able read her all the time and help her through her sometimes confusing thoughts. 

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

She’d be the most important thing to Jasper, he’d give up anything for her, they would be mates after all, something that goes way beyond a typical relationship. 

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He’d always carry her favorite snacks with him, or at least bunk them in his car, if she’d ever feel down or cranky, he could at least take her mind off things, for a good few moments. 

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Yes, he’d be a soft boy behind closed doors, would love to cuddle her, he’d be the big spoon, kiss her all the time, just to feel the warmth, that would be taking over her body. 

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He’d try to avoid situations, where they’d be apart from each other for a long time, but if he’d be away for a few days, they’d talk on the phone every day, he’d snap her a few pictures and tell her how much he loves and appreciates her. 

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

There wouldn’t be anything he wouldn’t do for her, no matter what, Jasper would go through hell and back for her. He’d probably even leave his family behind, if he really had to, in order to save his mate. 

[babyspiderling]

Little Red Corvette p.2 Michael Jackson x reader

(Bad Era)

Eight Months Later (1983)

I did this pregnancy on my own. My mother was appalled at the fatherless child growing inside of me and refused to support me through my pregnancy. The struggles and frustrations for the past nine months very easily justified when I held my baby boy in my arms. His skin was a beautiful shade of brown, his eyes deep and pulling like his fathers. Looking down at the tiny human finally in the world, there was no question or doubt in my mind who the father was. By blessing or curse, I was the only one who knew who the father was. Relatively early in my pregnancy, Michael released a video for one of his songs "Billie Jean". I sat and stressed over the possibility of him knowing of the child in my womb for weeks, but nothing came of it. No managers offering hush money, no reporters asking about the legitimacy of the child inside of me, nothing, so life went on. Looking down at the life in my arms, snuggled towards me I spoke softly. "Edward Michael L/N. My little blessing."

1986

It wasn't too long after Edward, or Eddie was born that I went back to work. I hired a sitter, or depending on the client, brought him in with me. Whitney Houston and Cher absolutely gushed over him during breaks. When Eddie was three, I got a call from Quincy Jones asking me to help him out on the mixing on an album. I agreed and found someone to watch my son while I worked. Quincy didn't tell me who I was hired for and I didn't want to seem unprofessional to whoever Quincy was working with. I kissed my three year old good-bye and got into my car to head to the studio they were using. "Bye Blessing! Mommy's going to work, but I'll be home soon. I love you so much!" I drove through the California traffic to the studio and parked my car near the front. I checked myself in the mirror before making my way inside.

"Y/N! You made it! Where's Eddie? You know you can bring him any time? Little dude has got potential if you ever want him to get into our world." I laugh at Quincy's antics. "Yeah, I know you love Eddie. Thank you for the compliment, but he's three, Q. He's not going into show business any time soon." Q shrugs his shoulders and turns back to the soundboard in his rolling chair. "Alright, let's get down to business shall we?" He nods and presses play on the vocals. I feel the blood drain from my face as a familiar voice croons from the speakers.

"I don't care what you talkin' 'bout baby, I don't care what you say. Don't you come walkin' beggin' back mama,I don't care anyway"

I stand stock still in shock, flashes of our one night together, my isolated pregnancy, my little boy waiting at home for me. I yank myself out of it with a sharp gasp when Q places a hand on my elbow, his eyebrows creased in worry. "Hey, Y/N, you good? You look like you've seen a ghost. What's going on?" I swallow and tuck my hair behind my ear, a nervous tick. "Yeah, I'm fine Q. I don't know what that was. How're we mixing this one?" He sits back in his chair, taking a deep breath and heaving it out in a large sigh. "Yeah, about that. Smelly's really particular on how he wants each track to sound on this album. He wants his voice to be layered in a harmony with himself during the chorus. He's recorded the audio, now it's our turn to get it just the way he wants." I nod and sit down in my own chair, slipping the large, bulky headphones over my ears to start working. The sooner I can finish working on Michael's album the better.

"Alright! Two music heads working on that was much faster than just me. I've got a few more tracks to work on before the release of the album. You good to come in say, day after tomorrow? Early morning so we can get a lot done. And bring Eddie. I miss my godson." I laugh and roll my eyes, giving Quincy a playful shove on the shoulder. "Works for me. And yes, I'll bring Eddie if the 'Client' won't mind a toddler running around the studio space while we work." Q chuckles and reclines in his chair. "No, he won't mind. I have a feeling you know who we're working for here?" I nod, and grab my purse off the ground. "Alright, you know it's Michael. I promise he won't mind. He loves kids" I nod, not really looking forward to potentially forcing Michael into Eddie's life out of obligation. I drive home reflecting on the strange chain of events that brought me here in the first place. I pull into the driveway and unlock the door. I drop my things on the floor where I stand and catch my little boy running into my arms. "Mommy! Me and April painteded! Come see! Come see!" He wiggles out of my arms and drags me to the fridge by my wrist. He bounces where he stands as I look at his painting. It was surprisingly detailed for a three year old. I smile proudly at him as I turn to my sitter, April. "Thank you for watching him so last minute. I really appreciate it." She just smiles at me and grabs her purse from the table. "Oh, Ms. L/N, it's really no trouble. Eddie is just the best kid ever. He was so funny during lunch. I had the radio playing while we ate and he just sat there, dancing in his seat. He didn't even realize he was doing it! But honestly, he is the easiest kid I have ever watched." I pay her and walk her out to her car parked on the street. I turn back to Eddie with a smile. "Wanna eat and watch a movie tonight with Mommy?" My blessing nods his head so hard and fast, I think it'll fly off like a bobble head with a loose spring. "Alright bud, what do you want for dinner?" "PIZZA!" I chuckle at my little boy. "Alright, pizza it is."

I buckle Eddie in the backseat, and climb into the front seat myself. "We're gonna see Uncle Q today buddy! Mommy has to make some music, but you get to hang out with us!" He kicks his legs in the air and gives a shout of excitement. "Yay Uncle Q!" I turn on the radio and look over my shoulder to pull out of the driveway to get to the studio. Parking, I pull the keys out of the ignition and grab Eddie, reminding him to put his backpack on. I hold his hand as we make our way to the studio, the front empty. I sit Eddie down on the chair and go to grab a cup of coffee from the lobby. "I'll be right back baby. I'm gonna get some coffee, and find Uncle Q ok?" He nods and swings his legs in the chair. I hand him the truck from his bag and kiss his forehead before leaving.

I bumped into Quincy in the hall after getting my coffee and went back to the studio space together. When we opened the door, a slim caramel skinned man was kneeling before my son, talking and laughing with him. At the sound of the door opening, Eddie glanced at us. "Mommy! Uncle Q! I made a new friend! His name is Michael, like me!" I widen my eyes in shock at his innocent chatter. Quincy scoops up his godson and chuckles. "Oh yeah Eddie? And what did you guys talk about?" Eddie wraps his arms around Q's neck. "We talked about drawing! Michael is very really good at coloring!" Q humors his godson, chuckling at the boy who has him wrapped around his little finger. While the two talk Michael lifts himself from the ground and introduces himself. "Hi, I'm Michael. I don't think we've been introduced." He sticks out his hand and I feel conflicted. I was so afraid of him noticing me, connecting the dots, but it hurt a bit that I meant so little to him. In his defense, it was one night, four years ago. I grasp his hand and introduce myself again. "Y/N. I'm mixing for your album with Q. You've already met my son, Eddie." He shakes my hand, and smiles back at Eddie. "He's a joy. I was recording and didn't know he was here. I look up and little guy's just dancing in his seat like crazy. He was just coloring on a blank sheet of paper. Sweet kid." I nod and swallow. "Let's get to work, shall we?" Michael nods and goes to the soundboard to listen to the new version of "Leave Me Alone". I watch Michael bob his head to the rhythm, as Eddie dances in the corner. I nibble and pull on my lips in a nervous tick. The music fades out and Michael looks at Q and I with a smile. "Awesome guys! Just what I wanted. I want Y/N as my mixer for the rest of the album. That good Quincy?" Quincy bounces Eddie in his lap, grinning. "Of course it's good! Gotta teach my godson the ropes right?" I smile and ruffle Eddie's hair lovingly, nodding along. Q, Eddie, and I occupy the main front of the studio space as Michael goes back to record another track.

The day goes by quickly, Q leaving the three of us alone to grab lunch. I sit at the recording desk and write down a few lyrics here and there, a melody and message in my head dying to get out. I glance over at my son and see him and Michael goofing around. I smile sadly, imagining what our lives would be like if Michael didn't leave that morning, if he knew he had a son with me. I guess I didn't realize how long I had been staring at the two until my son met my eyes, causing him to run to me in a comforting manner. "Mommy, what's wrong?" I shake off the sadness and force a smile on my face to keep my caring boy from worrying over me. "I'm fine baby. Just a bit tired. It may be Mommy's nap time soon." He nods and giggles, kissing my cheek before going back to Michael. Michael picks up Eddie, placing him on his hip, and walks towards me. 'Hey, Y/N, if you want, you can take a nap in the recording studio. I've got a couch back there. I can come and get you when Quincy comes back with lunch. I try to turn down his offer, but a yawn interrupts my objection. Michael gently guides me to the studio and sits me down on the couch, exiting and turning the lights out on the way. Against my wishes, I close my eyes and succumb to the peace of sleep.

I groggily pulled myself from the depths of dreamland at the sounds of people talking and laughing. I heard Eddie and Michael talking and it immediately caught my attention. "So, your mom makes music, your Uncle Q makes music, what does your dad do?" I peek out from the window and see Eddie and Michael sitting on the floor, rolling toy trucks around, a takeout container setting on the desk. "I don't know. I don't have a dad. Mommy plays Mommy and Daddy. She goes to all my games, plays with me, teaches me how to put on shoes." From where I stand, I can't see Michael's face, and I decide now is a good time to get back out there. I open the door and both boys look up at me. I glance at my watch and see that it's about time to go home. "Hey, sorry I slept so long. Why didn't you wake me up?" Michael shrugs and stands. "You looked so peaceful while you slept. Didn't want to wake you, let alone let you drive home tired. Lunch got here not too long ago so your food should still be warm. I was actually about to head home myself if you're ok with coming in tomorrow instead? We can keep working." I nod and grab my container. "In case I get here before you, what are you wanting to do with the other tracks?" I eat my food as he goes over what he wants to be done with a couple other songs to be put on the album. Now finished with my food, I throw away my empty container, asking Eddie to pack up so we can head home. Before we leave, Q comes back in, sad that we have to leave so soon. I promise to bring Eddie back tomorrow if that's alright with Michael, which it of course is. I give a hug to Q, and an awkward hug/handshake maneuver to Michael. Eddie practically tackles the both of the men in hugs and races to grab my hand. As we leave, I can faintly hear Michael tell Q "She seems so familiar, like I've met her before."

Taglist: @accio-boys​

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (3)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Fun fact: the final scene of this chapter is part of my original brainstorm for this fic. The rest of the scenes I initially dreamt up won’t come until much later, so I’m thrilled to have at least one of them come early on in the story. 

To Carrie and Anna, the lights of my life: I named the neighbor after you two. She’s annoying as shit and nothing like either of you, but I needed a name and decided if anyone deserves to have their name as an Easter egg, it’s the two of you. 

*****

Despite the storm, Matty has the shipment of borrowed guns delivered to the Port of Houston in the middle of the night. While they eat breakfast, Mac and Riley study Matty’s excruciatingly detailed directions for navigating the port and finding their shipping crate. She certainly didn’t make it easy on them. 

Riley leans back in her chair, looking around until her eyes land on Harley. “Time for you to earn your keep,” she says between mouthfuls of toast. 

Supposedly, this is what Harley specializes in—sniffing out weapons. The dog should be able to confirm which shipping container the guns are stashed in without Mac or Riley having to check themselves. Theoretically. 

Mac finishes his own plate of eggs and toast in a few ravenous bites. “Thanks for making breakfast.” He gets up to clear the plates and start rinsing dishes. After living with her for more than a year, Riley making breakfast is routine, but Mac still thanks her for it every day. 

Living in the apartment together, they fall right back into their old habits. Mac wakes up early and goes for a run. By the time he returns, Riley is awake and making breakfast. After they eat, Mac showers while Riley goes on her own run. And so on and so forth. 

While Mac was out this morning, he wove through the whole neighborhood, making sure it’s safe for Riley to go out alone. She can handle herself, but Mac has no delusions about the overall quality of men on the streets, and even though he can’t fix that, at least he can help minimize her chances of encountering creepy dudes. 

Before they leave for the Port, Mac and Riley scour their car for a bug or any other surveillance equipment the organization might’ve hidden while they were inside the warehouse talking to Conrad yesterday. They find none. Thankfully. 

Once again, they’re going in armed, and the weight of Mac’s gun feels just as foreign and unwelcome as it did yesterday. He tries not to fidget with it while Riley drives, but she notices his discomfort anyway. “You’ve got to relax,” she says. “All your squirming is stressing me out.” 

“Sorry.” Mac stills, even though his whole body screams to put the gun somewhere else. 

Anywhere else. 

Once they arrive at the Port, Mac guides Riley through the maze of cranes and crates and warehouses until they find the one Matty had the guns stashed in—dark green and otherwise nondescript. 

Unfortunately, there are multiple shipping containers that fit that description at the location Matty provided. As they get out of the SUV, Riley glances between the boxes nervously. “Uhh, which one is it?” 

Mac doesn’t have a clue. “I guess that’s for Harley to tell us.” He looks down at the dog standing obediently beside him. “Find it.” 

He releases the leash as Harley takes off like a rocket, sniffing each container and the surrounding area. She inspects more than half of them before sitting and looking back at Mac. He waits for her to bark, but she doesn’t. Whoever trained her clearly did so with stealth in mind. 

“Do we open it to double check?” Riley asks. 

Mac opens his mouth to say yes, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer before a muddy, dark-blue diesel truck parks beside their SUV. Conrad jumps out of the driver’s seat, accompanied by two younger men, wearing matching scowls and Carhartt jackets. He walks with that same entitled swagger, and a cheap smile spreads across his face. 

“Mr. Turner!” Conrad exclaims, shaking Mac’s hand. His grip is too firm to be friendly. Stepping back, he sneers at Riley, acknowledging her just long enough to impatiently say, “Genevieve.” Mac doesn’t miss the way Conrad’s eyes drop to Riley’s chest, nor the way Riley bristles beside him, wrapping her jacket more tightly around her and crossing her arms to hold it in place. Mac clears his throat. “Sorry,” Conrad says, not sounding sorry at all, “but your wife is very attractive.” 

Riley rolls her eyes so hard they nearly fall out of her head. 

“Your order is this way,” Mac says, cutting off Conrad before he could make another gross statement, “Follow me.” Mac puts a hand on Conrad’s shoulder, squeezing hard as he steers the man toward the shipping container. Harley is still sitting beside it, waiting patiently, and Mac scratches her head with his free hand. 

Riley whistles, a single sharp note that sends Harley running back to her side. Mac buries his relief that she’s not alone, although he’d still much rather the hulking bodyguards were closer to him than Riley. 

Focus, Mac reminds himself. Riley can hold her own. Just get this over with. 

Mac opens the container, revealing two nondescript wooden crates. Still sneering—at this point, Mac’s starting to think that’s the only expression Conrad is capable of—Conrad waves over his bodyguards, gesturing for them to open the crates. 

For just a second, Conrad’s sneer edges toward a smile. Inside the crates lie exactly what he ordered: military-grade, semi-automatic rifles and enough ammo to kickstart the apocalypse. Mac’s gut churns. He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates that he’s arming terrorists. He hates how these men look at Riley like dogs drooling over a steak. He hates that he can’t do anything about any of it, that he has no choice but to play along. 

Mac wishes he could bury his feelings the way Riley does, locking them behind a carefully controlled mask. Instead, his linger just beneath the surface, waiting to make themselves known at the first available opportunity. 

Counting backward from five, he steels himself to finish the game. Just as Conrad brushes a reverent finger down the barrel of a rifle, Mac chides, “We followed through on our end of the bargain. Did you?” 

“Of course.” 

One of the bodyguards pulls out his phone. In a deeper voice than Mac expects, he says, “We can wire the payment to your bank account right now.” 

“Good. My wife will help you set that up.” Mac gestures to Riley, and the bodyguard walks over to her. 

Conrad extends his hand, and Mac takes it, trying not to wince when his arm brushes his concealed gun. “Pleasure doing business with you, James,” Conrad says. 

“I hope this is the beginning of a long and prosperous partnership.” Long and prosper? Who was he, Spock? 

“Indeed. Welcome to the Patriots.” Conrad gestures for his men to start loading the guns into their truck. “Expect another order within the week.” 

Mac doesn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Riley waves him over, apparently having finished her conversation with Conrad’s lackey. “I’ll leave you to it,” Mac says, then turns his back on the terrorists and rejoins Riley. On instinct, he reaches for her arm as he murmurs, “Are you okay?” 

Riley tenses under his touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Good.” He said the same thing to Conrad just a minute ago. Good. But the word is light years different from before—soft and caring, not curt and vaguely challenging. Bozer pointed it out to him once, how he talks to Riley differently than he does anyone else. 

Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t get distracted, no matter how much his mind only wants to think about Riley. Releasing her arm, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

Back at the apartment, Riley settles in on the couch to dig into the Patriots' bank records. By wire-transferring the money instead of paying them in cash, Conrad practically offered up the organization's entire digital footprint on a silver platter, at least to someone like Riley. She doesn't speak as she works, so Mac listens to the melody of keyboard clicks while he makes them each a grilled cheese. 

Contrary to popular belief, he's not completely incompetent, although Bozer has nearly everyone convinced otherwise. Mac will never be able to cook something fancy, but he does make a mean sandwich. 

He even spreads mayo on the bread, the way Bozer does, because Riley prefers it that way. 

The sizzle of the sandwiches hitting the hot pan joins the keyboard clicks right as Riley announces, "I hacked into their bank records." 

"What've you got?" 

"From the look of it, the shell corp they used to pay us has only been around for four months. Before that, they must've either paid in cash or used personal accounts." 

"That makes sense though, since the Patriots haven't been around all that long." 

"That's what I thought at first, but come look." Mac does, leaning over the back of the couch so his head is right beside hers. Riley points at the screen. "The first three transactions were all big deposits, each one two weeks apart." 

Frowning, Mac squints at the tiny numbers on the screen. "One hundred thousand dollars?" 

"Times three deposits," Riley adds. 

"Where the hell did they get that kind of money?"

"I don't know. The deposits were cash." 

“Damn. Did you at least figure out who their previous arms dealer was?” 

“Yeah.” Riley shifts, causing her hair to tickle Mac’s nose, and he brushes her hair to the opposite side of her neck without another thought. “Turns out their previous dealer has Mexican cartel connections, which explains why the Patriots only paid them twice. I’m guessing they found out about the cartel part and broke it off before they made a long-term deal.” 

“At least they’re not complete idiots,” Mac mumbles. Tired of squinting, he leans closer to better see the screen. 

Except now they’re cheek to cheek, and Mac suddenly can’t focus on the screen at all. 

Riley twists to look at him, and it takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower not to glance at her lips. "Are you burning my grilled cheese?" 

"No." He straightens, simultaneously disappointed and relieved by the space now between them. Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t keep getting distracted like this. 

"Uh huh. Sure." 

Retreating to the kitchen, Mac calls, "That was one time!"

*****

As expected, they don’t hear anything from Conrad or the Patriots the following day. Mac doesn’t know what to do with all the downtime on this op. There are plenty of books in the apartment, but he’s too restless to sit and read. He opens the fridge, more out of boredom than actual hunger. 

They’re on day five of the undercover op, and it’s starting to feel an awful lot like quarantine. With nothing to do but hurry up and wait, hanging out in the apartment and doing nothing is starting to make Mac go a little stir crazy. 

When Riley emerges from the bedroom wearing workout clothes, it’s clear she feels the same way. “I’m going for a run,” she announces. 

“Want company?” He hopes she says yes. Anything to get out of the apartment for a while. 

Riley unplugs her phone from the charger and slides it into her pocket. “No offense, but no.” 

Dammit. Mac shoves down his disappointment. “None taken.” He closes the fridge. Nothing in there looks good. 

“Tell you what,” she says. “After I get back we can go to the space museum, okay?” 

His heart skips a beat at her offer. “Is it that obvious I’m bored?” 

“Yes.” Riley gives him a pitying smile. “So do you want to go?” 

Mac smiles. It feels like she just asked him out on a date. It’s not, but it feels like one anyway. Be cool. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.” 

“Okay then.” Popping in her earbuds, she walks out the door. 

“Enjoy your run, muffin!” Mac calls, stealing Bozer’s go-to pet name for when he’s undercover with Riley. She reaches back inside to flip him off before slamming the door shut, and Mac chuckles. Riley really hates that nickname.

Now it’s just him, Harley, and this tiny apartment. 

Resuming his search for food he’s not even hungry for, Mac opens the pantry, and Harley comes running into the kitchen. She must’ve learned the sound of the door opening since they keep the dog food in there. Harley looks up at Mac expectantly. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” She whines, and her pleading expression reminds Mac of the wide-eyed look Bozer mastered as a kid while begging his parents for something. Neither are very effective. “You just had breakfast an hour ago,” he insists.  

Harley glances at the open pantry, then back at him. 

Mac doesn’t give in, but he does kneel to pet her instead, scratching Harley’s neck and ending up with a handful of hair. Frowning, Mac digs through every drawer in the kitchen in search of a dog brush. No luck. He checks the bedroom and bathroom, coming up empty once again. Who even organized this house? It makes no sense. His gaze lands on the laundry room door. 

Ah. 

Sure enough, there’s a dog brush on the shelf above the washing machine. 

Leash and brush in-hand, Mac calls out, “Alright, girl. Let’s go de-floof you.” 

Harley takes one look at the brush and sprints in the other direction. 

Well this is going to be harder than Mac anticipated. 

He ends up chasing Harley throughout the apartment, zig-zagging from one room to the next. Every time Mac gets close, Harley slips by, just out of reach. After the fourth time she sends Mac stumbling into the furniture after lunging for her and missing, he realizes what she’s doing. 

Harley is playing him. This is a game to her. And, so far, she’s winning. 

Mac stares the dog down, and she seems to narrow her eyes in response. “Challenge accepted,” he tells her. 

This time, he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for—peanut butter. He smears an unnecessarily large glob into Harley’s dog bowl, making sure she sees exactly what he’s doing. Harley’s stubborn, and does a good job of appearing not to care, but Mac has a hard time believing any dog would turn down peanut butter. 

Harley, it turns out, is no exception. 

She follows him to the door, and Mac rewards her with a few licks of peanut butter while he clips on the leash, careful not to let her eat so much that there’s not enough to last while brushing her. Despite Harley’s obvious enjoyment of the peanut butter, Mac is no fool. She let him win this round, no doubt about it. 

He leads Harley down the stairs to the small lawn in front of the apartment building, where it wouldn’t matter if he left dog hair everywhere. The brush pulls away thick chunks of her undercoat with each pass, and it doesn’t take long for the lawn to look like something died there. 

The peanut butter, unfortunately, doesn’t last nearly as long as Mac hopes. 

Mac figures out pretty quickly that Harley does not like her tail being brushed; she turns away and tucks her tail and generally makes it impossible for Mac to reach it. He sits back on his heels, formulating a new strategy. “If I don’t brush your tail,” he says, “you’re going to look like a squirrel, and neither of us wants that.” 

Harley’s ears prick at the word squirrel. 

Mac tries again, and this time Harley lets him…sort of. It’s not perfect, but at least she won’t be leaving hair all over the apartment anymore—hair that he needs to vacuum, because Riley asked him to last night and he’d completely forgotten until now. Tucking the brush into his back pocket, Mac scratches Harley’s ears the way he learned she likes, and when she leans into his touch, Mac’s heart swells. 

“Good girl.” He kisses her head, and Harley licks his chin in return. “See? We’re not so bad.” Mac sighs. “I know we’re not who you wanted, but we’re going to take good care of you.” 

Riley made the same promise in the war room. Even if she doesn’t stay with them after the op, Mac will make sure Harley ends up with people who will love her for the rest of her life. 

“I promise,” he murmurs into her fur, kissing her head again.

Mac startles when a feminine voice calls, “You could make a whole other dog from all that hair.” A middle-aged woman stands in the walkway, oversized blue purse on her shoulder and car keys in hand. She smiles at Mac. “I haven’t seen you before. Did you just move in?” 

“Yeah,” Mac says, standing up. “My wife and I moved in this week.” 

“Well, welcome. My name is Carrie Ann, and my husband and I live in apartment 317. Feel free to stop by anytime. I think you’ll like living here, though I must warn you that it gets pretty loud during football season.” 

Mac nods. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.” He expects Carrie Ann to keep walking—presumably to her car—but she doesn’t, and Mac suddenly gets the feeling this conversation is about to be much longer than he wants. 

“And who is this cutie?” she asks, directing her attention to the dog. 

“This is Harley.” 

Carrie Ann sounds like a squeaker toy, greeting Harley in a voice so high-pitched it’s almost inhuman and petting her without bothering to ask for permission. Harley eyes the woman warily but surprisingly sits still. “I love dogs,” she says at a mercifully normal decibel. “Sadly my husband is allergic.” 

“That is unfortunate.” Mac shifts from foot to foot, eager to escape the small talk. He’s never really had the patience for it. 

Carrie Ann, it seems, is completely oblivious to his discomfort. She prattles on, asking asinine questions about what he does for work, if he’s been to the coffee place down the street, and when she can meet his wife. 

Mac doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse when Riley appears in his peripheral vision, as if on cue. “Actually,” he says to Carrie Ann, “you can meet her right now.” Mac flashes Riley a wide, bright smile that she returns half-heartedly, chest still heaving after her run. Sweat glistens on her body, and a few wispy curls that escaped her ponytail are now plastered to her face. “This is my wife, Genevieve.” 

Giving Harley a quick scratch, Riley stands beside him, close enough that Mac can feel the heat radiating off her body. Instinctively, he starts to put a hand on her back, but he quickly pulls away. She’s not wearing a shirt—only a sports bra and those stupidly tight leggings—and the intimacy of putting his hand on her bare skin is too much to handle. “Hi,” she says, completely oblivious to Mac’s internal panic. 

Carrie Ann introduces herself again, and Mac is only half-listening while she and Riley chat. Riley’s so much better at small talk anyway. 

He’s much too focused on how Riley grabs his shoulder to use him for balance while she stretches. She’s so casual about it, like she’s done it a million times before. His skin burns under her touch. 

Mac wants to feel more of her, wants his whole body to feel like that. 

Stop it, he chastises himself. Stop thinking about her like that. 

He can’t. 

Even after Riley lets go, the feeling lingers, and Mac can’t stop thinking about that too. She’s standing slightly in front of him now, almost as if she’s protecting him from their nosey neighbor.

“When are you having kids?” Carrie Ann coos. “An attractive couple such as yourselves would make such beautiful children.” 

Shit. He and Riley never talked about that. 

Before Mac can come up with an answer, Riley pulls his arms around her, a smile blooming on her face. She guides his hands to rest low on her abdomen. “We’re actually trying right now.” 

Mac’s brain short-circuits. 

He blushes, both at the casual intimacy of Riley wrapping herself in him and at the implications of what she just said. Pressing her body fully into Mac’s, Riley looks up at him, smiling like he’s her whole world, and Mac’s heart stops. He’s not breathing. 

His whole body burns, and the feeling is so much more intense than he imagined just seconds ago. 

Alight with mischief, Riley’s dark brown eyes draw him in, and suddenly Mac is picturing Riley with that exact same expression while wearing far less clothing. 

Mac thinks he might die from spontaneous combustion. 

You are so beautiful, he barely stops himself from saying. His blush deepens as he’s snared in the mental image of him and Riley doing said “trying.” 

Their neighbor has the audacity to laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, Genevieve. Your husband looks like he’s ready for another round.” 

That makes it worse. So much worse. If he doesn’t spontaneously combust, then he’ll definitely die of embarrassment. It’s not how he wants to die, but it’s better than explaining his reaction to Riley. Because she’s going to ask him about it. Mac knows this—knows this like he knows grass is green and gravity is what keeps his feet on the ground.

As soon as Carrie Ann leaves, Riley does exactly that. She extricates herself from his grasp, putting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow the way she always does when she knows something’s up. “Are you okay?” she asks. 

Mac’s voice is strained as he replies, “Yeah. I’m good.” 

He is not good. He is definitely not good. 

And Riley knows it. 

This op feels like all Mac’s worst nightmares coming to fruition. Simultaneously. 

Riley can’t know. Her knowing would ruin everything—their friendship, their work, their trust. Mac can hardly look her in the eye. How is Riley supposed to trust him when he’s secretly thinking about her like that? He’s her friend; he’s supposed to protect her from guys who want her like that, not become one of them. 

But god does Mac want to be one of them. Not one of them, he corrects himself. The only one. 

He’s screwed.

.

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