#I just know the range of emotions he had driving around vegas will be is next weekend and it won’t end with a top 3 finish unfortunately 😔

[rickybaby]

EASportsF1: We invited @danielricciardo to check out the #LasVegasGP track early and he had a blast

[writersarchivex]

Just The Costume Designer Pt. 2: Elvis x Reader

don’t know how many words, but the first part did so well. rushed!!!! so sorry! but here you go ❤️

part one: click here loves <3

Being official together meant a lot of things to the both of you. First of all, you and Elvis had very busy schedules. Yours was tamer, getting to trade in late nights at the office for bringing your work home. Elvis couldn't really bring his work home.

You had moved into Graceland after realizing that the paps were unbearable. Graceland had grown to be your only safe haven. It was that for a lot of people.

You noticed that no matter how stressed Elvis was, the minute he walked through the door, a weight was lifted off his shoulders. It amazed you.

You were laid in the hotel bed, with a glass of wine. Papers were spread all over the place. You only really designed for Elvis, but of course you still had to approve of your employees work and make notes. This was your new normal. Vegas, work, Elvis. Repeat.

You had seen him play loads of time, and after feeling the pressure to go to every concert, you decided to call it quits. You went to see it when it was convenient for you. He understood completely. Respected it even. He liked that there was a bit of separation from you and "work".

The phone rang causing you to jump a little.

"Hello?" You answered.

"Y/N. We need you at the venue- Elvis needs you."

You immediately snapped up.

"Jerry what happened."

After the phone call ended, you were getting dressed as fast as you could, decided to wear one of his plain white shirts and some blue jeans. You were in a rush.

Your hair was a bit messy, just thrown up into a bun, and you still had your glasses on. Probably for the best because you would be taking one of his cars.

This made you nervous, but of course, you made it happen. You knew how to drive, maybe just not well.

It wasn't as busy as you had thought, mainly just parked cars. The lights were beautiful, but you had to focus.

Making your way to were Jerry said he was, you had no idea what to think. You didn't hear anything he said past. 'Elvis needs you.'

This wasn't like him. Not at all.

You finally found Jerry after getting a bit turned around.

"Jerry!" You ran up to him, feeling more and more panicked with each step.

"Y/N. Fuck I'm glad you're here. " Jerry cursed, pulling me in for a hug.

You could hear Elvis on stage. He was alive at least.

"Listen. All I know is he's not good. Found out tonight that Tom ain't who he says he is. Been lying the whole time. Don't even have citizenship."

Your eyes grew wide. You knew something was severely off about him.

"I tried to tell EP. The minute the words came out my mouth he passed out. Like on the floor,"

"Then Tom had Dr. Nick inject him with something, and now he's preformin'. He dont look right Y/N. Not at all."

You nodded, trying to take in the information. A lot of emotions were flooding through your body.

Anger. Hurt. Worry. Disbelief.

Jerry and You turned towards the stage at the mention of the Colonel's name.

Elvis was beyond angry.

"You are fired! Fired! Fired." He slurred out as Tom made his way on stage.

Luckily, the curtains had closed.

Before the man was able to reach EP, you bounded across stage.

"Don't you go near him."

You were furious, and before you knew it, you had slapped the old man. Clear across the face.

You were shoked at your own actions and apparently so was everyone else. You heard a couple of gasps coming from behind you.

"Now, Mr. Presley-"

"You're fired." Elvis cut Tom off, before he had even finished his sentence.

As Tom walked off, you turned to look at EP.

He was sitting on his knees, glaring at the gold curtain. It was like his brain had shut itself off.

"Jesus Christ what did they give him Jerry?" You exlaimed, running carefully towards the man.

It was like Elvis couldn't even tell you were there. You knelt in front of him, brushing some of his hair away from his forehead. He needed to get out of these clothes. They were tight, and hot. You would know, you designed them.

"Let's get him to the hotel, I have his car. I'll take it after we get there."

Jerry nodded at you as you slowly stood Elvis up.

He was barely lucid. You had no idea what to do for him.

"Come on baby, I got you."

The ride to the hotel was uneventful. You managed to get Elvis out, with Jerry's help of course, without many people seeing him. Being harassed was the last thing any of you needed or wanted tonight.

Getting Elvis in bed would be the biggest challenge.

You told Jerry he could go to his room after the two of you made it to the suite. He was hesitant , but he knew you could handle it.

Elvis was still staring off into the distance. This was the quietest he had ever been.

You sat him down on the couch before going to the room you shared to get him some clothes.

You made the bed messily, and put water on the nightstand, and the trashcan behind his side.

"Come on EP. We gotta get some rest okay?" You said gently, standing him up.

He was more unbalanced now, putting more and more weight on you. You didn't mind.

You helped him get undressed, realizing how uncomfortable he must've been.

He was in a more comfortable outfit when he finally spoke.

"Mama, I don't feel all that well."

His voice was hoarse, and he had bags under his eyes.

Your heart broke for him.

"Oh sweetheart,"

You kissed his forehead, before helping him to the bed.

You wiped his face gently with a cold washcloth, dragging it down to his neck as well. You were doing everything you could, just hoping he would be a bit more comfortable.

"The Colonel, he."

"Baby. Focus on you tonight, we'll talk about it tomorrow."

You hand was on his cheek, thumb lightly rubbing back and forth.

He nodded. Still not himself.

The night went pretty smoothly. You weren't able to sleep hardly at all.

You finally fell asleep around three in the morning, only to be woken an hour later.

Elvis was throwing up.

It was definitely a sight, he was crumpled beside the bed, hand gripping the beside table.

"Honey what can I do?" You questioned, standing up to cut the bathroom light on.

You knew how he was about lights when he didn't feel too hot. Just a little was okay, but it would be out of the question to turn the bedroom lights on.

You sat beside him, and held a wet rag to his neck. After he had wrapped up the heaving, you told him to sip the water while you took care of the mess.

Walking through the living room with the trash can you were muttering about all the ways you could brutally kill Tom Parker, perhaps not your finest moment.

Elvis was still on the floor when you returned.

You pulled him on the bed, choosing to sit behind him so he could lay.

His head found its way to your upper thigh, as you ran your fingers through his hair.

You decided then that as soon as he was better a shower would be in order.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do Y/N,"

You were at a loss, you didn't either. The Colonel had Elvis in a financial bind, nothing about the contract allowed any wiggle room.

"You are Elvis Aaron Presley. You will survive this."

You felt this was okay enough, hoping it would comfort him. Even just a little bit.

"I'm gonna take you home tomorrow, okay? To Graceland. You should see Lisa. Maybe go to your mama's grave and visit. I'll make you some dinner, and you can sleep in your own bed. Then if you're ready to come back, we will."

He nodded, eyes drooping as he began to doze off.

You were happy that he was letting go a bit. He needed rest. He needed his home. Real food. A real shower. The outdoors. His daughter.

He needed normal.

You couldn't help but notice that he was gripping your leg, like you would disappear any minute. This made you smile. It eased your worry knowing that you could be of comfort to him.

The next day was better. You woke up before him, deciding to make some breakfast for him.

While everything was cooking, you cleaned up a little bit. Doing his laundry, organizing his music papers, dusting, whatever you saw you cleaned. This was a nervous habit you had picked up from your mother. You figured it would be nice to leave the hotel in good shape.

After breakfast was made, you knew you could give him a bit of time to sleep before he woke up.

You made sure both of your bags were back, of course Elvis had a lot more stuff.

Like , way more.

“Darlin?”

Elvis was standing behind you , looking a little better than he did last night. A lot better.

“Hey EP, there’s breakfast.”

You couldn’t help but smile as he looked around the room.

He walked over to you as he envolped you in a hug.

“Thank you mama. You’ve done so much.”

He laughed a little, which confused you a bit.

What could be possibly be laughing at?

“You slapped the colonel. Very sexy.” He smiled, which caused your face to flush red .

Well at least his humor is still intact.

@xcallmetaniax

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9  

Part 10   Part 11   Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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[the-bau-quinjet]

You can’t be gone, no

Chapter 13 of In Breakable Heaven! I would like to apologize for how long this took! I was really buys with work this week, but I’ve got the next chapter almost done already so it shouldn’t take too long. 

Summary: A bit of aftermath of the show, plus the show from Spencer’s perspective.

Word Count: ~1900

 Spencer’s POV

“Hey Spence. I miss you, but you already know that. I’m doing a sort of mini show at 7 tonight. It would mean the world to me if you came… Look, I get it. You don’t want to be with me anymore, but I don’t want you to disappear from my life completely. Not when I need you now more than ever… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not trying to guilt you into coming, I just really want you to be there. For the moral support. The rest of the team is coming, so you won’t be alone. That’s it I guess. Bye.”

 He listened to the voicemail on repeat as he made his way to the venue where you were playing your mini show. He had no idea what to expect, but the idea of not supporting you hurt too much to stay home.

 After parking and walking inside, he managed to find the rest of the team. Turning to Morgan, he began to ask “hey, do you-” He was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. Turning to look at it, he recognized the number as his Mom’s doctors. “Oh, it’s my mom’s doctors. I have to take this.” He retreated back outside the venue, answering the call on the way.

 It was really a simple call, only took a few minutes, but you had already started when he walked back in. Not wanting to disrupt anything, he took a seat near the back of the venue, shooting Morgan a text that he probably wouldn’t need to go to Vegas.

 “…how I was feeling about a month ago. Before everything happened. It was the happiest I have ever been. I had a great group of friends, a job I loved, a hobby that helped me bring some of that joy to you guys, and… a perfect boyfriend. Most of that is still true and for that I am incredibly grateful. Without further ado, here we go!”

 His heart hurt to know that he was the part that wasn’t true anymore. He immediately recognized the song as it began to play. He memorized all of Taylor Swift’s songs in the months he’s spent with you in your apartment listening to the range of playlists. It’s honestly a good thing he got that call because he started tearing up almost instantly realizing how happy you were when the two of you were together.

 I want to drive away with you. I want your complications too. I want your dreary Mondays, wrap your arms around me Pr-aby boy.

 His breath caught in his throat when he heard the slip up. You used to change the lyrics to all of Taylor’s songs to be about him. “Wrap your arms around me pretty boy” is exactly what you used to sing to him. The range of emotion he was feeling surprised him. He expected this to be painful, but not this much.

  “Thank you! Thank you! This next song is kind of a complete about face. 180 degrees if you will. Actually” you pause to think, “it’s more like 540 degrees.” He watches as you take in the confused glances from the audience, searching the crowd for someone. “I feel like I went through every emotion possible, returned to where I started, and then was forcefully turned in the opposite direction.”

  “Clearly, you can tell why I was so happy a month ago. Paper Rings is kind of obvious in that sense. But, 3 weeks, 4 days, 6 hours, and 27 minutes ago every possible ounce of that happiness disappeared.” He froze knowing that exact amount of time meant your happiness disappeared not when you were abducted and tortured, but after he left your apartment that night.

 “ For those of you who don’t know, I recently went through a fairly traumatic event. My good friends at the FBI saved my life. But after I left the hospital with a new found relief, I went home and my boyfriend, well I guess ex-boyfriend, came over.” He could see the tears forming in your eyes even from his place in the back of the crowd, and it only hurt him more.

“He didn’t tell me why, but he broke up with me that night. He said he didn’t want to do it while I was in the hospital, so he waited. I’ve had a lot of time to think it over, and I might know now why things changed. But even if I’m wrong, he left. And now, he won’t talk to me. Now I know what you’re thinking. This guy sounds like a complete asshat.” He couldn’t help thinking that was a massive understatement.

 “And maybe you’re kind of right. But he’s been through more than I could even explain, and I know that it is slowly killing him to know that I went through barely a tenth of what has happened to him. Especially because I know he blames himself. So, I have this next song. To try and explain how him leaving is worse than anything that happened in that building. ”

 Again, he immediately recognized the next song that began playing. Haunted, especially the acoustic version, was one of the few songs you saved for when you were so sad nothing else helped. He knew how much pain you must be in to even listen to this song, let alone sing it in front of the crowd.

 By the time you reached the bridge, he could already feel the tears streaming down his face.

 I know. I know. I just know, you’re not gone. You can’t be gone, no

 The way your voice sounded like it completely broke when you sang “no” made his heart wrench. He had his head in his hands. He felt completely useless. This kind of pain was the exact thing he was trying to prevent. He didn’t think you would still feel so strongly about him 3 and a half weeks later.

 “I know what you’re thinking. What the hell happened to you? Well, a lot. But that song, the first song, and the last song are all to the same person. The one person in the world who understands me more than anyone else. You should all know, however, the ‘he’ I was referring to when I sung ‘he will try to take away my pain’ is none other than my therapist. Thanks for the all the help Doc, I’m trying to do what you said. The last song I have for you is what I wish I had the chance to say that night 3 weeks, 4 days 6 hours, and 33 minutes ago. It’s something I need you to know.”

 He doesn’t know how, but he knows you are talking to him when you finish the last sentence. He lifts his head to look at you again as he once again recognizes the song. His favorite line in this particular song was always:

 You keep, his shirt. He keeps, his word.

 He knows exactly which promise you are referring to this time. And he knows that he didn’t keep it.

 You can see it with the lights out.

 Before the two of you even started dating, he promised you he would always be there.  No matter the time of day.

 You are in love, true love.

 No matter where he was in the country. No matter what he was doing, he would drop it to help you if you needed him.

 You're in love.

 And he failed. He left when you needed him most. And he had no idea how to fix it.

  “Thank you all so much for coming! We can only hope for and work towards a better future than the present we find ourselves in. Goodnight.”

 You’re right. He is in love. And apparently, so are you. All he knows in this moment is that he has to fix things. He has no idea how, but he has to at least try.

--

Y/N POV

It felt like hours, but it had only been about 15 minutes when you heard a knock on your door. You somehow managed to stop crying and wipe your face before answering the door. You were met with the concerned expressions of almost all of your friends. They rushed in to take turns hugging you with varying degrees of sadness and anger in their voices.

Morgan probably noticed you looking around them all when he said “Reid wanted to come, but something came up with his Mom.” After hearing that, you immediately shifted from your spot on the floor. All you felt now was concern for him. “Is she okay? What happened?” The genuine sincerity in your voice was no surprise to anyone. You have always put everyone else’s feelings above your own.

“He didn’t say what happened, but he said he probably wasn’t flying out so it will be fine.” Morgan responded. The room shifted into silence, not quite awkward, but not comforting either. JJ chose to break it “Why didn’t you tell us what happened? Or even that you were seeing anyone?”

You shifted your gaze to her face from its previous resting place on the floor, you sighed. “I don’t know really. At first, it was because it was like a game between us. We actually had a bet going about which one of you guys would figure it out first. I was actually planning to tell you all at Rossi’s last family dinner, but then with everything that happened it just…” You stopped to force yourself not to cry again. It was killing you that they didn’t know who you were talking about, although they were probably figuring it out as you continued to talk.

“Y/N” you had never heard your name spoken so softly by Morgan before, “what can we do to help? Do you want me to kill him? The team can probably hide his body.” He tried to joke. You managed a weak smile in response.

“No. The truth is I’d rather feel like this in a world with him than be happy in a world without him. I… I was supposed to meet him for dinner that night, but he had to cancel. That’s part of why he blames himself. Or at least I think so. I genuinely haven’t talked to him about it.” Admitting that truth was a lot easier than you expected. You rose from the ground to change the song, knowing exactly which song might help you. Before you could get to your phone though, there was a knock on the door. You signaled for Rossi to answer it since he was standing the closest.

You turned to see Spencer Reid walk into your dressing room. “Hi Y/N” he said in a sad greeting.

“Morgan said you had to talk to your Mom’s doctors, is she okay?” you responded, your concern for your friend’s mom returning.

“Oh, uh yeah she’s fine. They just wanted to switch her medicine again. Thanks for asking.” You nodded in response, not knowing what else to say.

“I think, um, I think I’m just gonna go home now.” You said, staring at the floor to avoid everyone’s sympathetic looks. “I just want to go to bed and hope for the best, ya know?” You began pushing your way through people, your bag on your shoulder.

Spencer grabbed your wrist as you passed him, giving you a pleading look. The tears began to fall again as you looked at him, gently pulling your arm away. You couldn’t do this here. Not in front of everyone. Not when you hadn’t even told them it was Spencer who left you near catatonic staring at your apartment door. You turned and ran to your car before they could stop you.

--

 tag list:

@mac99martin​ @goldeng1rl8​ @eevee0722​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @haylaansmi​ @dinonuggets15 @laurakirsten0502​ @green-intervention​ @burnin-passion​ @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @loveheathens​ @fan-girl-97​ @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ @akuri-shinsou​ @prongsyy​ @panhoeofmanyfandoms​ @sherlockmarvelharrypotter​ @lizziebritish​

[allthingsfern]

In order, my responses to comments in Reply of my COVID19 era post that was my answer to my question “My answer to my questions: Has the era of COVID19 changed your photography? How? And perhaps also, why?“ I am so confused now...

adventuresofalgy

Algy thinks you are lucky and - certainly if compared with Europeans - perhaps quite unusual in not having experienced a more profound effect on your creative outlets and expression. Many of Algy's creative friends have experienced wide-ranging and often severe impacts on their creativity and associated motivation - and therefore on their mental health as well.

themazette

As @adventuresofalgy Jenny said.... you are lucky...

I am indeed very lucky, or as I think of it, blessed. However, it is no way a US thing, nor even a California thing. I add California, because I know many in the US and around the world think of the Golden State as a haven, a progressive, hippie filled state that is all about peace and love and marijuana. However, that is far from the truth. California is like Germany in the 1920s and 30s. There was Berlin, where there was a wildness in the city that was not shared, and was often looked-down on, by those in the majority of the country, who lived in more conservative areas and who, often, economically could not afford the grand life of partying Berliners. In California it is the same. Except for a few urban areas, the state is full of very conservative folks, and for them, like for those in the cities (and in the rest of the world) this COVID19 era has been devastating. Well, and the fires for Californians have been too.

Even in this cool college town where I live, which is lovely and quiet and inspiring, the painfully empty streets, movie theaters, restaurants, shops (think of all those unemployed people) is (still) staggering. In mid-March last year, right after lockdown, I took several phone videos of the deserted street in our town and the campus, but I could not bring myself to share them, since I knew that so many others here on Tumblr were experiencing the same desolation in many different ways. (I figured: “Why add to the sorrow we are living, almost globally?”) I was overwhelmed by the emptiness of the major (well, major for a small town of around 65,000 people) street where I live and the empty bicycle trails and street on campus. And by empty, I mean that even now, I see maybe 3 cyclists per hour, and very little car traffic. Remember, this is a bicycle town; I do not own a car, doing most all my errands on my bike with its 2 fordable baskets in the rear.

And now, over a year later, that same heavy, oppressive emptiness persists. And no, I am not used to it. And yes, I traveled over the last year, but I found the same suffocating blanket of emptiness in each city I visited, even in Las Vegas. It was unnerving. As a matter of fact, last year when I drove to San Francisco 2 months after lockdown for my birthday, I wound up getting depressed and disoriented, in a city where I lived for almost 7 years. Driving back home across the Golden Gate Bridge with tears of sadness in my eyes on my birthday was not what I expected. However, I did get some solid photos of the malaise that hung thick in the air, a malaise that physically took up the space that once was taken up by crowds of people.

Now, I am also very aware that my situation is unique. (Not a fan of the word exceptional, since it can mean both unique and special, and I do not see my situation as special.) My life situation is very unique in that I have a job I love and I work with a great team of characters. We get work done and we have fun, share about our lives. My job is often, especially since COVID19 first got noticed in early 2020, stressful and demands my colleagues and I learn (and sometimes then teach) lots of new technology and that we adapt to the vagaries of the technology gods, which are sometimes unfriendly and unresponsive. And a big part of my job is trying to figure out how to get the technology gods to like us again and grace us with their gifts. (I never realized, until now, with this discussion, that the troubleshooting that is a big part of my job is creative and probably fuels my photographic creativity. Who knew?) Yet, as a group, my colleagues and I support each other. And I am fortunate to count my closest colleague, Steve, as a friend. We have been a great emotional support to each other over the years and now through this COVID19 era. And I recently was reminded (as if I needed reminding) just how unique my work situation is because I participated in a committee that was going over responses to a UC Davis-wide survey exploring levels of employee satisfaction. My 2 colleagues who were also on that committee and I did not have the complaints that others from other departments shared. We work well together, have supportive management that share what is going on and include us (as mush as possible) in the decision making process. And as a department, we get stuff done.

Possibly the best example of how blessedly unique my situation is is what happened this morning when I was talking (yes, on ZOOM) with my immediate supervisor. We discussed the work related stuff, including how at around 10:30 pm the night before I figured something out about an online tool integration I had never done before that I knew was easy but I did not see as easy until I reread the overly complicated instructions a couple of times and just figured out how and where to cut and paste the lines of code (it was that easy, just fucking cut and paste some lines of JSON code) that got the fucking thing to work. Then we talked about his dealing with his young children returning to school and how “normal” now is not “normal” from before and how disruptive the whole thing has been, yet since we work in a supportive atmosphere (and are both salaried), he was able to deal and keep living.

Then, and you are gonna love this, I shared about my original COVID19 question post and the responses and pretty much said to him what I am sharing here.

We talked for a little over an hour. That kind of rapport is rare, for any job, anywhere.

And then there is another way my situation is unique. In some ways, previous “bad things” were actually a preparation for this era of physical distance and uncertainty. In mid-2019, from July to August, first because of my work related bowling concussion and then an antibiotic resistant infection, I was bedridden for about 5 weeks and then had several absences because of concussion issues, like sudden and extreme anger flare ups, nausea, headaches. But however bad I thought that concussion and infection were, the concussion induced forgetfulness and my desire to sharpen my mind and nurture and nourish it have lead me to become, in my old age, organized. I now often take notes of important stuff, add work and personal dates and notes to my Outlook calendar, and even know what day it is, which bugs my colleagues who often find they have no idea what day and/or date it is. Yep, unique, but the bad concussion shit got me to be organized in ways that I was never able to be before, no matter what I tried. This time, I just fucking get organized, without thinking about it too much. And if I fuck up with my being organized, like I did the other day for work, I admit it, fix it, and move on.

Preparation for isolation (and unexpected natural threats) came by way of the 2018 Northern California (the region where I live) fires that year, which caused the campus to shut down for about a week. (As my friend Steve called it, the smoking break.) And for work, my colleagues and I faced a couple of long term, emergency technical outages that impacted all of the UC Davis faculty, one of them for over a month. Pretty much on a professional and personal level, I was, if not ready, at least getting used to the WTF of whatever life decides to surprise me with. (And lets not forget the really bad fire last September, seen in this video I posted of ash “snow” falling. We did not have to shut down the campus because there was no one there anyway.)

Another aspect of this last year, and one that has been present in my life for a few years now, is the BLM movement and the brutal police violence against Black people in this country. As someone who was a teaching assistant and taught in African American Studies and worked closely with students of color on campus in a student run organization, I was and am still devastated, in part because I know, from hearing so many personal accounts, the pain many of my friends, former colleagues, and former students, are still facing and how overwhelmed they felt and still feel. I understand, if as an outsider, their emotional exhaustion. This has been going on for a while, plus add the years of anti-immigrant hate against the Latinx in the US and the rising tide of violent hate against Asians, and yes, it has been sorrowful. Heartbreaking. And I have, in several ways, including my photography, tried to capture the sorrow and resilience of US people of color. It hurts, almost physically, that many people of color are just tired of talking and dealing with the hate.

So, yes, my situation is unique, but with its own emotionally draining weight. And yes, I am extremely grateful. This leads to the other 2 comments in Reply:

kkomppa

Thank you for sharing, Fern. Very interesting. Like you, I would say my output hasn’t changed much. However, I have sought locations deeper in the wilderness. This has been fulfilling.

schwarzkaeppchen

Really interesting thoughts. We live in strange times, but creativity and motivation comes and goes for so many different reasons. My photography has changed a lot. I used to work as a photographer at events and took portraits for fun... Now I'm officially a portrait photographer.

Both of these comments point to another unique aspect of my life situation: For some of us, our photography and how we do it, has not changed much, and if it has, that has been a part of our overall experience with this art form we love so much.

For me, because of my depressive tendencies, the Zen of photography, at least the way I do it, is therapeutic. And I do not use the  term “Zen” lightly here, because my spiritual life has helped me come to terms with the WTF surprises that are pretty much life, if at times the WTF of it is more impactful, as it is during this COVID19 era. And that is part of what I was trying to share with my original post: Before this period of isolation and disorientation, I was already coming to grips with the gospel truth that “creativity and motivation comes and goes for so many different reasons.” as @schwarzkaeppchen​ said. In no way do I diminish the anguish flared up by these bleak times that impact so many around the world. And really, when you think about it, bleak times have been a norm, at least here in the US, since late 2016, though, of course, lockdowns and physical distance make it all worse. But, at least for me, I try to learn from the bleak times, even if I abhor going through them. And when dealing with the highs and lows of creative energy, at least for me, I have a calm certainty that photography is part of my life and I do not have to worry, since I only love it more each day. And the other side to my certainty is that if someday my love of photography fades, some other treasure of creativity will replace it.

Let’s be real, because of photography. I think about stuff like this and get to have discussions with so many great Tumblr original photographers.

And I am grateful for it, and no, this is not unique to my life situation. I know many of us love being here and sharing the good, the bad, the confounding.

Please think about joining @tvoom and me for InConverversation this month. It has been a long time since we talked, and this COVID19 era will be our topic.

I am grateful for all y’all.

[dreaminae]

We All Need The One Friend

Chapter 14

Softly placing her hand upon his chest, Liv pushed Spencer back into his original spot in the passenger seat.

"What's wrong, Liv?" Spencer asked, confused by the shift in her mood.

Huffing, Olivia mentally prepared herself to confess. "I wanted to make sure I told you how I felt before telling you this, Spence. Because I want you to understand that what happening with me isn't because of you, Vegas, or what's happening between us."

Spencer nodded, letting Olivia gather her thoughts aloud.

"I'm going through something that could break me, but I won't let it because I'm going to get the help I need. I can't get into major detail right now because my family need the truth first."

"You will tell me you're ready," Spencer interjected, assuring a nervous Olivia that he understood her actions.

"The reason I'm telling you this is so that you don't worry about me." Olivia sighed.

"It's like you told me at the cabin," Spencer recalled. "Whatever it is that you're going through, you're strong enough to handle it."

"Thanks, Spencer." Liv exhaled with relief.

"Hey, and you already know to count on me for whatever you need," Spencer added supportively, grabbing her hand once more. "Even if it means just being here."

Liv grinned, tightening the hold on his hand she gestured towards the road she contently, "Let's head home."

Their drive was quiet, as Spencer allowed Liv to mentally prepare for what he assumed to be an impending larger confession.

They'd peak at each other now and again with cheeky grins. On her third grin towards Spencer, Liv only spaced for a second. And it took only a second for things to go array.

One moment Spencer's eyes were on Liv's adoring smile, the next his eyes were wide on the road.

"Liv, watch out!"

Her eyes tore from his in shock as a stray dog ran into the road. Swerving her steering wheel to keep from hitting the dog, Liv sent her car flying into the direction of the curbside. Pressing her breaks, she tried to no avail to keep from crashing into a black, parked car.

Smoke aired from Olivia's engine as she and Spencer accessed the damage of the crash.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry." Liv panicked, checking Spencer's arm.

"It's alright, Liv. I'm fine." Spencer moaned. "Are you?" He replied, concerned for her as well.

"Yeah. I think so." Liv moaned, checking over herself, Liv couldn't help but to think that things could've been worse.

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

"Why don't both of you put your hands outward where I can see them?" One officer hastily insisted after finding Olivia and Spencer at the scene of the crash.

"I can grab my license and registration if you give me a..." Liv suggested impulsively, one foot moving in the direction of her wrecked vehicle.

"Don't move, Ma'am!" The officer's voice boomed aggressively.

Spencer hand immediately grab hold of Liv's, holding her in place.

"Back to your places with your hands where I can see them. Both of you!" He aggressively repeated.

Olivia froze in place at a loss for words. Spencer gave her a stern expression, so she followed his lead staying unwaveringly obedient.

"My partner is running your plates. We'll find out who's car this is soon enough." The officer spat accusingly.

Liv rolled her eyes in disbelief of the indirect accusation of grand theft auto. "It's registered to my parents. Which you'd know if you had allowed me to show you my documents." Liv sniped rebelliously.

"That's enough out of you." The officer groaned, annoyed by Liv's verbal upheaval. "Instead of sassying me, how about telling me about the accident."

"What do you want to know?" Liv responded.

"Who was driving?" The officer demanded to know.

Spencer eyed Liv with uncertainty, wondering if he might need to take the fall. However, before he could Olivia answered the police officer.

"I was driving." Liv chirped undoubtedly.

"Are you intoxicated?" The officer asked, eyeing Liv suspiciously.

And for the hundredth time this weekend, Liv found herself grateful that she hadn't taken her infamous blue bottle to the cabin this weekend.

"No, I am not." Liv sighed honestly, resulting in Spencer releasing a breath of relief he hadn't been aware he was holding. "You can test me if you want?" Liv challenged.

The officer opened his mouth to sprout a comeback, but his partner joined the conversation before he could.

"Your vehicle is listed under D.A Baker ownership." The female cop hastily spoke, silently discouraging her partner from pressing the teen further.

"That's right." Olivia agreed. "She's my mom."

Moaning agitatedly, the male officer gave in, refusing to be reported for harassing the district attorney's kid. "I suggest calling your mother before she gets worried. My and I will see if we can get a toll for your vehicle."

"You do that." Liv sniped sarcastically, frustrated by the cop's clear double standards.

Spencer gazed at Liv with a disapproving expression to which she shrugged in response. Her demeanor was that of a social justice warrior, while he was of carried the persona of a young survivor. Despite the serious situation, he couldn't help admire how she held strong under adversity.

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

Almost two hours rolled by into the late-night when Spencer and Olivia found themselves at the Baker residence.

"Let's just be glad no one was hurt." Laura's voice rang into the Bakers' kitchen as she set her purse on the countertop. "Things could've been much worse."

Several scenarios of the night flashed through Liv's mind in the last two hours. One where she had been intoxicated and arrested. Another where she'd crashed while under the influence, pleading with Spencer to take the fall. Even one where she'd lost her own life at the wheel of her alcohol abuse.

No longer able to hold onto her darkest secret, she confessed to her mother what she'd been hiding since the end of summer.

"It could've been worse," Liv muttered her mother's words in a lifeless tone, gaining Laura's attention. "Had this happened even a week ago, I would've been arrested for drinking while intoxicated."

Laura's eyes tore up from her phone, perplexed by her daughter's words. "Why would you say that Liv? You don't drink."

"But I have been drinking." Liv finally admitted. "This is the first weekend in months that I've been completely sober."

Laura's eyes watered with tears of denial. "No, because I had you tested and you passed. You could've have cheated that test."

"You tested me for paraphernalia." Olivia corrected. "Not alcohol. Which is why I passed the test."

"I asked you, Liv. I asked if you were using, and you said no. Even your Dad asked you. So what, you just lied to us?" Laura inquired, tears streaming down ber cheeks as she tried to contain her emotions.

"I told you the truth. I haven't been taking any drugs, prescriptions, or anything like that." Liv replied, her voice cracking under her mother's disappointed gaze. "Not that it matters." She acknowledges. "I told myself it was okay to drink because it wasn't a pill. But it's not okay. I know that now. I swear I know." She cried.

"Why, Liv? You've been doing so well." Laura wept for her daughter's abandoned recovery.

"That's just it! I'm not doing well. I haven't been for a while!" Olivia shouted, wanting her mother to see the truth. "I can't remember the last good night's sleep I had. I can't remember a night where I didn't dread being alone with my thoughts. I don't remember a day this past summer where I didn't depend on having company to keep myself from wanting to drink or pop a random pill. My sponsor's been A-Wall since before summer. You have your new job, Dad is hardly around, and Jordan has his own life to worry about. I didn't want to feel like a burden. I thought I had it under control, but it's falling apart! I just want it to be over, Mom!" Liv ranted out in tears, "I just want it all to be over."

Sensing that Liv had finally released all her built-up angst, Spencer embraced her, allowing her to cry on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." She whispered in a hushed tone, leaning her head on Spencer's shoulder. She hoped he was too disappointed in her. "I didn't mean to..."

"Shhh.." Spencer insisted gently, running his fingers through her curls. "It's alright. You're gonna be alright."

Laura breathed heavily, silently processing her daughter's breakdown.

Continuing to coax Liv down from her panic attack, Spencer kissed the side of her temple. "I'm proud of you for telling the truth," Spencer assured Liv supportively.

Holding him closer, Liv sniffled. "Thanks."

Their intimate moment broke at the sound of Laura clearing her throat. Pulling away from Spencer, Olivia faced her distraught mother.

"I didn't mean for it all to come out this way." Olivia apologized, clear-minded enough to have a formal discussion. "But with the crash, I couldn't keep it in any longer."

"It's been a long night, and right now I'd like both of us to get some rest." Laura stated, "Tomorrow, your father and I will decide what is the best route to take to help you."

"I know what Dad will want. And I know you probably want to send me to rehab, as well." Liv immediately added as before her mother could end the discussion. "But I'm begging you not to, Mom."

"Now isn't the time to discuss this. I need to take Spencer home. Your father and I will decide tom-"

"Mom, please." Liv pleads, grabbing Laura's hand. "This isn't like last time. I came to you this time. I admit to drinking, and I will do whatever I need to get better. Just don't send me away again." Olivia groveled.

Pulling away her hand Laura reached for her purse and car keys. "We will talk about this tomorrow. Not tonight. I'm taking Spencer home, and you need to bed."

Dropping her hand at her side, Liv nodded, sensing her mom was going unwavered. "Fine. Can I at least say goodbye to Spencer?"

Laura glared at Liv, telling her daughter not to push her luck.

"This might be the last time I see him for a while." Liv assumed. "Please, mom."

Huffing, Laura nodded. "Five minutes. I will be in the car. I expect Spencer there in five minutes."

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer answered on both their behalf as Laura left the room.

Liv's hands instinctively entwined with Spencer's.

"This isn't how I planned for tonight to go." Liv moaned defeatedly. "I ruined it for us."

"You didn't ruin anything, Liv. I knew there was a chance of this happening. Kia warned me earlier that she suspected you are drinking or thinking about it." Spencer revealed his earlier conversation with the young activist.

"You knew this entire night. When we were in the car? When I told you that I love you? During the crash?" Liv questioned, stunned. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I know you'd do the right thing in the end, and come clean. If not tonight, then later on in the week." Spencer disclosed. "I trust you, Liv. You asked me to let you do this on your own, and that's what I'm going to do."

"Thank you." Liv cooed with tears in her eyes. Her hand caressed Spencer's cheek. "I know this isn't what you had in mind when you pictured the night we finally got together."

"With everything that's happened tonight, and what might happen after tonight, I want to be clear," Spencer spoke seriously, tugging on Liv's hips to pull her closer.

The space between them closed as their lips met in a sensual kiss. Holding the sides of his face, Liv molded with Spencer returning the gentle movements. Licking her bottom lip, Spencer tasted her gloss once more. His tongue massaging hers for dominance, causing Liv to giggle as she let him take the lead. Spencer's lips left hers, trailing down her neck as she held him close. Breathing in her scent, Spencer engraved this moment into the back of his mind, hoping it wouldn't be their last in the coming days.

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin - Part 34

Word Count: 2,244

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language ?

Notes: Sorry it’s been a while that I’ve actually updated this. So thank you guys for being patient. I just love this little family that they’ve created and it was fun writing it again. Hopefully it won’t be as long as a wait for another update. Hugs!

Nervous Regrets Masterlist

Jackie and the girls showed up two days before Tyler had to leave for his road trip, and between the four of them, someone was always holding Jace. Thankfully, you always had designated time, as you were Jace’s source of food. Though you did start pumping so that Tyler would be able to feed him every now and then.

You really weren’t surprised that Tyler had to beg Jackie to go to his game on the last night he was home. She seemed to want to soak up anytime she would get with her grandson. She’d even tried to say that you probably needed help and that she shouldn’t be away for that long. It was really adorable, but in the end, her son’s puppy dog eyes won out. By the time they got home, Jace was fast asleep. Jackie and the girls headed off to bed, while Tyler insisted he get some time with his son.

“Babe, I’m going to be gone for a week. He’s not even going to remember me.” Tyler whined as he laid in bed holding his son.

“He’ll remember you. Besides, we’ll facetime two or three times a day for you to see him.”

“But I’m going to miss his first doctor’s appointment, and what if he does something cute, like roll over or crawl.”

“Ty, he’s not even a week old yet. He won’t be doing either of those things for a while yet, and I will call you the minute we leave the doctor’s office and tell you what she says.”

He kissed Jace’s little head, before saying, “It’s not the same babe. I just….” He blew out a breath. “I’m just going to miss him…and you so much.”

Reaching over, you gathered your boys in your arms as best you could. “I know you will Ty, and we’re going to miss you as well. But when you come home, you’ll be here for like ten days straight. This is the longest road trip you have left this season. Once you make it through this it’ll all be downhill from there.”

“I know you’re right. I just wish I could take you both with me.”

You smiled, for you would love to go with him as well. “Jace, can’t even fly yet babe, or we’d go with you.”

“Hopefully, he’ll be allowed once playoffs roll around.”

“I actually talked to the doctor about that already, before Jace was born. She felt as long as Jace was healthy there would be no problem for him to fly. She only advised washing my hands and Jace’s things frequently when we do fly.”

“Well, I’ll get a private plane, so he doesn’t have to be around a bunch of people.” Tyler’s voice sounded excited at the prospect of you and Jace flying out to be with him.  

“Slow down a little, Ty. We still have a ways to go.”

“I know babe. I just want to be with him every second that I can.” You leaned over and kissed him then. You could sympathize with Tyler, there was no way you would want to be parted from your baby boy, especially right now.

“Speaking of that, I have a bottle in the fridge by the coffee bar, if you want to feed him tonight. It will just need heated, but if you want to get some sleep; I can feed him as well.” You were just trying to give him as much time with Jace as possible.

“No, I’ll feed him. I’d love to, though I do like watching you do it.” He said with a little wiggle to his brow, to which you just shook your head at him. He leaned in close and pecked your lips before saying, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed these getting bigger.” He pointedly looked at your breasts. “I know it’s way too soon, but you know I still find you sexy as hell babe, maybe even more so.”

You kissed him back, a little more passionately this time. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I mean it, babe. Like as soon as you get the all-clear, I want to start trying for a brother or sister for this one.”

“Woah, hold up there slugger. Let’s just enjoy this guy for a bit, first.”

“You’re right. I just love him so much (Y/N). I never thought I could feel this way.” Jace chose that moment to wake up, and start crying. “Aww bud, it’s ok. Daddy's got you.” Tyler bounced him up and down in his arms. It wasn’t long before Jace settled back down, though he still whimpered from time to time. “What’s wrong little guy? You hungry?”

“I’ll go warm up his bottle.” You were back in a few minutes, handing off Jace’s late-night snack to Tyler. Jace took his bottle like a champ, and it wasn’t long before you were settling him back down so you all could sleep. One feeding and two diaper changes later, Tyler was getting up and getting ready to head out to the airport. It was incredibly hard for him, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying as you saw tears form in Tyler’s eyes. “Facetime me when you get there.”

“I will babe.” He kissed you hard on the lips then, before backing away and kissing Jace. “Bye bud, Daddy will be home soon. Don’t forget me while I’m gone.” Jace started to cry. You knew he wasn’t hungry or needed changed and probably just sensed that something was wrong with Tyler. “I know bud, Daddy doesn’t want to go either.” A tear ran down Tyler’s cheek and you brushed it away with your free hand.

“Go Ty, or you’re going to be late. We love you.” A few more tears slipped out of both you and Tyler.

“I love you guys too.” He kissed both of you again, then slid in the car and pulled out the driveway. You watched him leave, tears freely flowing now, and Jace still crying. The moment you walked back inside Jackie was there to envelope you in a hug, where you just sobbed.

“I don’t know why I’m crying. He’s the one that had to leave Jace, not me.” You said a couple minutes later.

“Here let me take him for a moment.” You handed the baby over to her. “Sweetie, your emotions are still high after just having this little guy. It’s only natural that you’re going to be upset. Tyler will be fine, as soon as he gets back in his routine, and before you know it, he’ll be back home and driving you crazy.”

You sniffed loudly. “I know. Thank you for being here.”

She kissed your forehead and continued to rock Jace back and forth in her arms until he quieted. “Anytime sweetheart.” You were so thankful that Jackie stayed a couple extra days with you. She helped you get Jace to the doctor’s where he lost a little bit of weight, but the doctor wasn’t concerned since he was eating pretty regularly. She felt that he’d be gaining weight within the next week or so. She wanted to see Jace in three weeks, but you were to call if you need anything in the meantime.

A couple days later, Jackie and the girls headed home. You were sad to see them go but also enjoyed the time with just you and Jace. It seemed like she no sooner left than your phone was ringing. “Hey babe,” Tyler exclaimed as you answered the FaceTime. “How’s everything going today?”

“We’re good Ty, just got your mom and sisters off to the airport. How’s LA?”

“It sucks.” He literally had said that about Chicago and Vegas when you asked him as well. “I just want to be home with you and my lil man. Where is he by the way?”

Jace was up on the kitchen counter, in his mamaroo seat watching you make lunch. “He’s right here,” and you switched the phone over so Tyler could see his baby.

“Hey Jace, it’s daddy. What are you doing? Are you being a big boy watching mama?” Jace made little cooing noises at his dad. “Yeah, tell me a story. What are you and mama gonna do today?” There were a few more gurgles from the baby. “Oh yeah.” You listened to the two of them and it made your heart swell. It went on for a few more minutes before Tyler turned his attention back to you. “So, how are you feeling? Are you sure my mom should’ve left? She would’ve stayed if you needed her.”

“I know she would’ve, but she has a life too Ty. I’m feeling much better and moving much better. I’m sure Jace and I will be good for the next three days until you get home.” He frowned at you over the phone. “What?”

“I just wish I could come home now.”

“Just seventy-two hours and you will be babe.” The conversation went on for a while the two of you talking about nothing important just enjoying each other’s company. It was later on that night that you saw Tyler had posted the pic you’d taken of him and Jace in the hospital. It was the one where Jace was laying on his bare chest as they got skin to skin time. He had a simple caption on the bottom that read, ‘Missing my lil man and times like these.’ It made your heart melt because you knew how much Tyler missed both you and Jace. This was the first time either you or Tyler had posted Jace on social media. You had made an IG account for your son which was private and just for family and friends, and of course, you posted on there daily; but never on your public accounts. You quickly commented saying, ‘We miss you too Daddy. Can’t wait until your home.’ You topped it off with a bunch of heart emojis.

Hours later, after you watched the Stars win in overtime, and Tyler score; you were scrolling through your IG while you fed Jace and waited for Tyler to call when you saw all the comments.

Most were sweet, saying how adorable Jace was, but there were some that just made your skin crawl. Ones that said, ‘I knew she baby trapped him,’ ‘Sorry you’re stuck with that woman and a baby now,’ ‘I noticed how didn’t comment that you missed his mom, I wouldn’t either.’ They only got worse from there. You knew that they shouldn’t bother you, yet they did. As much as you tried to tell yourself, they were just fangirls; it still took an emotional toll on you.

You were just about to put the phone down when it rang, Tyler’s face popping up on the screen. “Hey babe, did you see the game? I scored one…wait what’s wrong? Is Jace ok?”

You took a deep breath before answering. “Jace is fine and yes we watched the game. Nice goal babe.”

“Baby, I don’t give a shit about that. What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s nothing, Ty. I swear.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re practically crying.” All you wanted was for him to wrap you up in his arms at that moment.

“I just read some of the comments, and they got to me. I know I shouldn’t let them. I’m just still an emotional wreck.”

“What comments?”

“On the pic, you posted of you and Jace.”

“Hold on, I can’t look at them while we’re on FaceTime. I’ll call you right back.” It wasn’t more than five minutes later and the phone was ringing again. “I’m sorry angel. Please don’t let those people get to you. I shut the comments off, but I’ll take the picture down if you want. I should’ve asked you before I posted it.”

“No, it’s fine. If you want to post Jace, you should. He’s your son too.”

“I know, but still. You know those comments are shit right?” You nodded. “I love you more than anything baby.”

“I know, Ty.” You hesitated for a moment, as you’d been down this road before, but you still had to ask. “You don’t feel like I trapped you; do you?”

“What? Fuck no babe.” He ran his fingers threw his hair. “You didn’t even tell me you were pregnant at first, and I practically had to beg you to get you back.” He paused for a second then added. “Well, I did beg. You and Jace are my world baby, don’t let some idiot question that.”

He was right of course. “I love you, Ty.”

“I love you too (Y/N). I wish I could hold you right now, so you knew how much.”

“Me too,” you sighed out wistfully.

“I’ll be home soon baby. Now tell me what you and baby Jace did today?”

You proceeded to tell Tyler all about your day. Which seemed actually boring to you, but he wanted every little detail, by the end you’d forgotten about the whole IG incident. Over the next two days, you talked to Tyler at least ten times. So you were shocked when you saw a notification pop up on your phone. It was DM from someone you didn’t know. You opened it up and there was a picture of Tyler and some women you didn’t know. The message simply said, ‘thought you should know your baby daddy is cheating on you.’

[queenofgoats]

Thank You For Being A Friend | Imagine a night out with Dean

Summary: On her first hunt, OC fails all along the line and falls into an emotional down. Now Dean tries to cheer her up and takes her out.

Characters: POV fem!OC x Dean

Word Count: 2.746

Warning: insecurities, alcohol, flirtations and words = just spn

A/N: Hello dears!

I wrote this little FF for the challenge from supernatural-love14. My prompt was: "we probably shouldn't be doing this"

The hardest part was definitely the bar. I miss the old social life so, so much! 

Still, I hope you have as much fun reading here as I do writing.

Have fun! :)

"We probably shouldn't be doing this..." I said slowly. Emphasizing each word.

My eyes rested on the two brothers in front of me.

“That's exactly what I told you. I mean, I'm terribly sorry for what happened, but you know...”

Actually, I wanted to apologize last night, but it turned a bit differently somehow.

None of this would have happened if the Winchesters had listened to me. And if I wouldn't have let them convince me.

“I know.” Sam sighed into his coffee.

His brother, on the other hand, didn't seem quite as guilty: “But it wasn't our idea that you would get drunk this hard and jump right at the next dude’s lips.”

Dean had a point.

It should only be a small drink. After months of isolation in the bunker, I was allowed to join a case for the first time. Do some research in the library, get a taste of civilisation and just come out again in general. Easy thing.

Because back in the bunker I had created a whole new definition of cabin fever. Not something to be proud of to be honest.

The case itself seemed pretty clear and totally easy at first.

Nobody would have expected that the wraith with a faible for “Schoolgirl Report” would work with an incubus. Nobody!

The last-named picked me up later in the bar, where we three had toasted, to get revenge on his dead friend.

It was horribly. Bloody. And I had a new topic for my future therapist.

“I’m really sorry.” I finally mumbled.

I felt terrible. Just because of me, Sam was forced to wear a cast on his arm again.

Now it was me who buried her eyes in the coffee.

"I should have known. That will never happen again. Promise!"

Dean looked up: "How would you have known?"

I winced, caught and hesitantly tried to explain myself.

“Well. Actually it was obvious that I normally wouldn't have a chance with a guy like him...

“Oh come on!” Dean interrupted me despising “Don’t do this the girly way.”

“...but it’s true! Please look at you and then at me. I…”

First I started to give more examples of my low self-confidence, but decided against it.

Nothing honest ever comes around in these talks. You're just trying to make the other feel better.

“Okay, wait. Just forget it. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. Let’s say it was my fault and won’t happen again. Ever!”

I stopped the subject and did not tolerate any contradictions.

Sam seemed to want to say something, but luckily I put him off with my eyes.

Our breakfast ended in awkward silence.

Less than an hour later, I found myself in my motel room packing up my things. Even if unconsciously, I gave myself more time here than necessary.

The mood between us was strange. Of course, once in a while in the bunker we were bitching at each other, but this situation will set the course for possible further cases. Or living together in general.

Exhausted, I sat down on the edge of the bed and fell back with my arms outstretched.

Thoughtfully, I pale my cheeks and let the air slowly escape.

I sure didn't have too much pride to apologize. Mostly too often rather than too little.

But this was different.

The Winchesters had seen a side of me, that no one else had seen before. The little, vulnerable girl who just wants to be good enough. I hated her.

Not even I confronted her myself. I knew from experience that other people got ther completely wrong. Attention whore and fishing for compliments were nicer reactions.

Oh dear Chuck, I prayed that Sam and Dean would just forget about this and never bring it up again.

At this moment I heard car doors slamming shut outside in the parking lot. That gave me a little nudge and I finally got up.

I put my travel bag under my arm. On the heel I turned around again briefly to make sure that I had really not forgotten anything and finally closed the door.

Sam and Dean stood at the Impala and seemed to be talking about something quite emotional.

They even played Rock-Paper-Scissors.

“Hey boys, are we ready?” I interrupted them from afar. Not that I got anything in my ears that wasn't meant for me. They startled and turned to me.

I almost felt a little transported back to school. Despite the queasy feeling in my stomach, I just ignored it. Stowed my things in the trunk and went to my place in the back seat.

Unfortunately the ride didn't get any better. It wasn't that anyone was mad, but there was definitely something between us. How am I supposed to fix it?

A few hours later we arrived at the bunker late at night.

I literally jumped out of the car and ran down to my room. Did I ever feel so out of place?

Probably not. I couldn’t stand them at the moment and needed to be alone for a few minutes.

Just as I threw my jacket on the bed, there was a knock on the door.

“Yes please?” I sounded more annoyed than actually wanted.

Unusually careful, Dean entered the room and looked at me quite defensive.

“I overreacted, sorry for this.” I sighed. “This was not necessary.”

“Yeah, normally you’re not a drama queen. So it’s okay.”

Dean stepped across the room and sat on the edge of my bed: “That’s why I… or we think you didn’t exaggerate this morning. You really meant it ”

We?! Did they talk about me?

I cleared my throat.

“Oh boy... Embarrassing.” It rang out of me.

Dean continued: “Uhm, I’m sorry too! I really am! That didn’t go well for all of us.”

He stopped and fixed indefinite points in the room. Apparently he was looking for the right words.

“You know. You are here… with us all along. And hey, you are a girl and have needs...”

I didn't know where this was going, but I did not like it.

“Dean. No. Seriously. We won’t have The Talk. I told you, something like this will never happen again and it’s fine. Can we leave it at that, please?”

We couldn’t. He raised his finger and looked deep into my eyes: “No.”

I huffed.

“You deserve to have fun and go out from time to time.”

“Yeah and you remember how it ended?”

“That’s why you are going out with me. I’m not a monster and in case of emergency I’ll protect you.”

I looked at Dean Winchester for quite a while.

In the middle of the room I stood there, arms crossed. Trying to hold back my anger.

“Wow. Really. How heroic.”

He hadn't expected this reaction: “What?”

“First: You do this out of pity. Second: Your pity is not big enough. So you and your brother fought to see who had to take me out.”

Caught!

“Why would you think that?” He asked, playing outraged.

“You can’t fool me, Dean. And I saw you at the parking spot back at the motel. You and Sam played about it. Since you always lose and are here now...”

There was silence.

“Wow.” Dean huffed. “You must think I'm quite a dick now.”

“Not only quite.” I said and immediately smirked slightly. Of course I can’t stay mad.

Slowly I walked to the bed and sat next to him.

“I mean… I know you had the best intentions, but... It’s just… Can you imagine how I feel? Going out, just because someone feels sorry?”

In fact, it made me feel worse than before.

“I didn’t mean to.” Dean apologized. “But I want you to feel better. Nevertheless.”

Right the next evening I stood in front of my mirror and applied some eyeliner. Or rather corrected it.

I haven’t opened my makeup bag in ages. Let alone putting on a simple cover stick.

Jepp, I was quite nervous. Even if Dean and I agreed to go out, but as friends, it scared me a bit.

Just couldn’t tell why.

I was so insecure! Every view of myself made it worse. Was the lipstick too much? Maybe I should change the dress. It was way too short! Phew, and my thighs have seen better days.

These months in the bunker didn't exactly flatter my figure.

Maybe I should cancel this evening.

“Hey, swing down sweet Chariot!” Dean poked his head through the door and tapped his watch. “Hurry up!”

Oh dear Chuck, what have I done? It’s not that I think anything would change in the relationship between Dean and me, but still...

“One minute!” I replied and walked quickly to the door.

His eyes went wide and he formed his lips for a whistle.

“Don’t do it!” I interrupted him. “Let’s go. I need a drink. Urgent.”

Dean just laughed and followed me to the Impala. Noticing he also dressed up.

Not a flannel shirt in sight, just a simple but fine black one.

Apparently Dean tried to take my nervousness away and covered everything with slightly gentleman behavior. First held the car door open for me and then, while I reached for the not existing seatbelt,

he held a small bottle of sparkling wine under my nose.

“It’s going to be a four hour drive. Save it.”

Now he had me. I laughed: “Thank you. You’re the sweetest.”

After we left the streets of Lebanon and I took a few relieving sipps, I asked him where we were actually going.

“Vegas, Baby!” was the answer.

I raised an eyebrow: “Okay I’m in, but Elvis takes me to the altar.”

Dean chuckles. “Alrighty then.”

Of course it was not Vegas, but we ended up in Kansas City. And that meant big city. Like really big. Skyscraper. Waste Gas. Too many people. I missed it so much! All of it.

“Oh Dean, you're making me the happiest girl in the world.”

He laughed: “Oh dear, I hear this pretty often.”

What was the last time I saw a billboard with LED lights?

It took us a while to find a parking space and finally to stand in front of a bar. At first it didn't look like anything. I even tried to remember when I had my last tetanus vaccination.

But when we got inside we stood in a very cozy place. Dark red curtains hung on the walls, while the light provided a pleasant atmosphere.

Dean and I chose one of the dark leather sofas that I'm sure has seen quite a few butts in it’s life.

It was so soft!

Excited, I grabbed the drinks menu from the small table in front of us. I spent so many weeks in the bunker, this trip was just liberating.

“Dean, this is so awesome!” I thanked him again. “Do you already know, what do you want to drink?”

He laughed quietly. “Dunno. Couldn’t look in the menu yet.”

It didn't take long for the two of us to place our orders. Just as the waitress left, I turned to Dean.

“Hey erm…” I cleared my throat. “I know, I've been saying it the whole time, but now again, calmly and seriously: Thank you very much Dean.”

I let my gaze wander around the bar and put the next words in my head. A mildly sigh escaped my lips.

“And I know you are doing this, just because you feel sorry for me.”

I paused and raised my hands defensively: “Which is fine! Really! Oh dear... What I actually want to say is… You are a good friend, Dean.”

Something in Deans face changed and he began to look at me like only his brother normally does.

“Do you really think so? For the last time: I’m here with you, because I want to. No lost bet or anything else.”

He rubbed his face, puffing.

“You just think too much.” He stopped while the waitress brought us our drinks.

He grabbed his glas and raised it: “Promise me one thing. Don’t worry about anything tonight and just… have fun.”

A warm smile laid on his lips.

“Promise.” I agreed and toasted my glass.

Some drinks later I was much more relaxed. I completely forgot that I could laugh heartily.

Not a thought has been wasted on the end of the world. There was only this moment. Like a little safespace.

In front of me was no longer Dean Winchester the hunter, but a good friend.

Someone you like to be around. I felt good.

“Hey you two, can I do something good for you?” The waitress asked very friendly.

Dean waved with his empty glass and ordered another round for us.

Toughfully I looked at him: “We already had a lot of drinks. Don’t you have to drive? Cause I can’t anymore.”  

He looked at me thoughtfully.

“Yeah… you’re right. But I don’t want to go yet.”

Dean paused.

“I like it here.” He said with a smirking face.

I leaned back quite drunk: “However, a normal cola couldn't hurt. Otherwise you have to hold my hair later.”

We decided to take a motel afterwards near the bar.

“...you had to see Sammy's face! He was so pissed!”

Dean told about his poor brother. Siblings were the best and the worst at the same time.

“That’s mean.” I commented. “Hilarious, but mean.”

A lot more drinks later we just fooled around. At first I didn't notice that we were sitting very close together, only when Dean put his hand on my knee.

I looked down confused, but let him do it.

When was the last time something like this happened to me? Way too long! Then I thought about WHO was actually sitting next to me. And winced.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked unexpectedly softly while not moving his hand.

I huffed. Not that I was uncomfortable, it was just... new.

My cheeks literally glowed. Slightly nervous I smiled at him.

“No. Erm wait. Yes. I’m okay. Yeah.”

Accidentally my eyes stuck on his lips. His so perfectly formed lips.

Have they always looked so soft?

I forced myself off Dean's forbidden beautiful lips, only to sink into his eyes.

Now I knew how a moth felt in the face of the moon.

“I am really glad that you are here with me.” His voice was more like a breath.

We both leaned forward a little at the same time. Barely noticeable.

My heart jumps right into my throat. I knew what was about to happen, but my insecurity cut it off.

Why did I fool myself into this situation? Dean Winchester would never. Especially not with me. That’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous!

Suddenly Dean brushed a lost strand of hair from my face and gently ran his finger down behind the ear until it reached the chin. There he paused.

The skin he touched felt electrified. My goosebumps had goosebumps!

“Don’t think too much. Remember?”, he taught me.

His voice forced me out of my head and back into the bar. Back to his eyes.

I wasn’t able to say anything. So I just nodded.

The hand went back up from the chin. Very slowly. Stroking my cheek and sliding in my hair.

His touches calmed me.

He got to the back of my head, slowly pulled me towards him.

When our lips touched a switch inside me flipped. I was no longer able to think anything up, just let myself go. While his scent settled in my nose and seemed to rise into my head.

The lips were much softer than I could have dreamed of. They tasted a little like whiskey.

My eyes closed all by themselves and my body leaned itself towards. Even my tongue had developed a life of its own and began to ask for entrance very carefully. Just to be met by Deans.

I put my hand on the back of his neck and moved down. Resting at his chest.

All of a sudden I became aware of what I was doing. And with whom.

Against my own will, I broke the kiss and only brought as much distance as necessary between us.

“We probably shouldn't be doing this.” I lied to myself, but not moving my hand from his chest.

Dean sighed heavy: “Would you just stop saying this?”

Barely pronounced the last words, he pulled me into an intense kiss again.

[dirtydobrik]

second priority - d.d.

plot: david goes on a weekend trip to vegas with the guys and doesn’t answer any of your calls or texts, and when talking to natalie about it, she tells you not to worry about it because his priority this trip getting footage. this leads to you going to new york to clear your head and a couple of fights between you and david

requested: yes, by anon! I needd angsttttttt what about david leaves for vegas with the guys and during the whole trip he doesn’t answer your texts/calls and you’re pissed bc he’s been posting stories. When he comes back you’re not at the house you decided to go visit your friend in new york to change your mind or something like that :(

author’s note: hi! this was requested anonymously. hopefully it was similar to what you had in mind. if you want to send in a request for an imagine, send me a message!!

word count: 2164

masterlist

David hasn't been answering your calls or texts for the last two days, which was unlike him. And it was driving you crazy. He had gone to Vegas for a weekend trip with the guys, but he was posting on his Instagram story, so he was purposefully dodging your calls. You two weren't even on bad terms when he left, so there was no reason for him to be ignoring you.  

"Have you talked to Dave since he left for Vegas?" you asked Natalie, popping a pineapple chuck into your mouth. You were sitting at the island in David's kitchen as Natalie was cutting up pineapple.

"Yeah, he called me last night and he texted me this morning," she replied. "Why? Have you not talked to him?" Her voice was filled with concern as she set the knife down on the cutting board.

"He's not answering any of my calls or texts. I thought maybe he wasn't talking to anyone, but clearly, I was wrong," you pouted. You didn’t want to be upset, but you knew David was using his phone so you didn't understand why he wasn't answering you.

Natalie's smile turned into a frown for a brief moment as she thought. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. You guys will be fine. He's just out with the guys. You know his priority is getting content." You rolled your eyes as she talked.

Of course David's priority was getting content. That was always his priority. It was a slap in the face to know that you weren't as important to David as his vlog was, and you hated it. For the most part, David was good at balancing you and his vlog. He knew when to put the camera down when you were around. But that boundary didn’t exist when he was with the guys. David didn't know when to stop when he was out with the guys, which sucked because that meant he would be M.I.A. for hours on end when he was filming.

Natalie noticed your eye roll and gave you a sympathetic smile. She knew how committed to his work David was and that it would be his only focus, especially when he didn't have enough footage and needed to edit and upload the next day.

You were about to answer Natalie when you heard her phone chime.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered as she turned the screen towards you and you saw David's name. "He needs me to buy a plane ticket for Ilya and Dima to go to Vegas right now, and he wants me to change his flight home to tomorrow."

"I bet he won't even tell me that he's extending his trip," you sighed loudly, getting another sympathetic smile from Natalie. "God, Nat, I just don't know what to do? Like, I know that this is his job, but he's never ignored me for this long. And it's not even like he has a reason to be doing so. He didn't leave when we were on bad terms or anything." you rambled, just needing to vent about your feelings.

"Do you want me to ask him what's going on?" Natalie asked, and you immediately shook your head.

"No. That makes me seem desperate."

"You're his girlfriend. You're allowed to seem 'desperate' when your boyfriend completely ignores you for two days."

"No, Nat. It's fine," you tried to reassure her. "I'll talk to him eventually."

Natalie pouted, not thrilled with that idea. "Are you sure?" she asked, and you nodded, pretending everything was fine. But Natalie saw right through it, and she held her arms out for a hug.

 A couple hours later and after another ignored facetime from David, you were sitting in the airport, waiting to board a flight to New York City. You were pissed off at the fact that David was still ignoring, and you didn't want to be around when he came home. You needed a distraction and one of your close friends had just recently moved to New York so you were going to meet up with her.

It was an easy flight, and your friend was waiting at the airport to pick you up when you landed. You explained the whole situation with David on the way home. She jokingly told you to dump him and you said you probably would if he would call you back. When you got to your friend's apartment, her roommate was waiting up with a bottle of wine and a pint of ice cream. You dropped your bag on the floor and the three of you squeezed on to the couch to watch a rom-com, spending the entire night successfully avoiding the topic of David.

The following morning you turned your phone on, having a few texts from Natalie asking if you were okay, but nothing from David. You sent Natalie a text that you were in New York and that you were fine. She, of course, freaked out at first, but completely understood your need to get away. She promised not to tell David where you were, even if he offered her a raise, and said she would pick you up from the airport to give you an update on David if he was still ignoring you.

 David landed in LA around 9am. He had called Natalie earlier and asked if you were coming with her to pick everyone up. Natalie covered for you, saying that you were still asleep and that there wouldn’t be room in the car for everyone anyways. David and the guys piled into David's Tesla and after Natalie dropped everyone off, there was an awkward silence between her and Dave. He knew she was hiding something from him, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. She pulled the Tesla into the driveway, tossing you the keys and getting into her car.

"Nat, wait," David stopped her. "What's wrong? Why are you acting so weird?"

"The fact that you even have to ask that. God, David, what's wrong with you?" she spat, turning her car on and driving off, leaving David alone and confused. He didn’t know what Natalie meant.

He brought his suitcase inside, hoping you would be sitting on the couch waiting for him, but all he found was an empty house. He tried calling you and when he got no answer, he decided to head over to your place. Your roommate answered the door when he knocked, confused as to why you didn’t tell him you were in New York.

 Your phone buzzed with a text from Natalie saying David was back in LA and that he didn’t know why you were mad. You told her that he was calling you nonstop and that you were now ignoring him since you weren't in the mood to deal with him. She encouraged you to talk to him, and you were dreading the conversation. You spent twenty minutes debating with yourself whether you should call him back or not, and you finally decided to give it a shot.

The line rang and your breathing was getting heavy. You tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself down, but you could sense the rage building up inside you.

"Hi, babe," David said when he answered the facetime. His brown hair was floppy and covered his forehead and his eyes lit up when he saw you. For a moment, you almost forgot that you were mad at him.

"Hi, Dave," you said, your voice cold as ice.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, genuinely confused as to why both you and Natalie were being so cold to him.

"Oh, I don't know, David, " you answered sarcastically. "Maybe the fact that you went to Vegas for three days and I didn't hear from you once."

"I needed to film. I was barely on my phone," he said defensively.

"Bullshit. You called Nat at least twice a day, not to mention the countless Instagram stories you posted," you shouted.

"I'm sorry, okay? It was a trip with the guys and I didn’t want to have any distractions," he yelled. He instantly realized what he said, and his face and eyes softened. "That came out wrong," he said, his voice quiet.

"You're an asshole," you whispered, feeling your legs weaken. You slid on to the floor of your friend's apartment, your back against the kitchen cabinets. You were trying not to cry, but it had come full circle. Vlogging will always be David's top priority and he had just made that perfectly clear to you. He saw you as a distraction, and even though he retracted the statement, he still said it.  

"I didn't mean it like that. I just didn’t want to miss out on good vlog footage if I was on my phone," he argued, although all he was doing was burying himself deeper. You felt a sharp pain in the heart and you could barely breathe. David had now admitted that you were a distraction twice. Your emotions ranged from upset to angry to horrified. You couldn't believe the words that had just came out of your boyfriend's mouth. Did you even want him to be your boyfriend anymore?

"Fuck you," you spat, ending the call and throwing your phone across the kitchen. You pulled your knees to your chest and let a single tear rolled down your cheek. You tried to stop the rest of your tears, but you couldn't. You couldn’t stand either, feeling weak and lightheaded.

Your friend came home from work an hour later and you were still sitting on the floor, although your tears had stopped. She dropped her purse on to the counter and sat on the floor next to you, not bothering to ask what was wrong, because she knew you would tell her when you were ready. And when you eventually did talk about it, it was nice to have someone else in your corner. She had taken your side long before you said anything and the support was exactly what you needed.

She got up to get your phone after it had rang for the tenth time since she had been home. A few calls were from Natalie, since she knew the situation, but a majority of your missed calls were from David. You sent Natalie a text explaining that David said you were a distraction from his ability to get vlog footage and that's why he hadn’t talked to you when he was in Vegas.

"What a dick," your friend muttered as she read over your text to Natalie for you hit send. You nodded in agreement and let out a slight laugh when Natalie's response was also "What a dick."

 You had Natalie pick you up from the airport the next morning, begging her not to tell David you were back. She agreed, but a few hours later you heard a knock on the door to your apartment. You let out a loud groan as you got out of bed, assuming your roommate had ordered food and accidentally sent to home instead of work. You weren’t expecting to see David standing in the hallway with bloodshot eyes and a bouquet fresh flowers.

“What do you want?” you sighed, not in the mood for a romantic gesture that proves he does actually love you. It wouldn’t change the fact that getting content for the vlog will always come before you.

“I need to apologize.”

“It’s a little late for that, David.”

“Can we please just talk?” he begged, and you opened the door to let him in. You stood in the entry way of your apartment and shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you said I was a distraction.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just, I haven’t had anything serious with someone since Liza and my only focus for months has been my vlog,” he paused to catch him breath since he was rambling on. “I forget sometimes that I need to make time for you and that my life doesn’t revolve around the vlog anymore.”

“David,” you started, but he cut you off. “It’s not fair for you to have to put up with it. I just, I get into work mode and nothing matters more than getting content. And I wish I didn’t.”

“You were in Vegas for three days, Dave. I don’t think you have 72 hours of footage. You could’ve at least sent me a text.”

“I know. I know I should’ve,” he said, raising his voice, although he was mad at himself and not at you. “I’m a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have ignored you, but I didn’t mean to.”

“I can’t be your second priority,” you said in a low whisper, watching as David’s eyes softened. His heart sank at your words, feeling horrible that he made you feel like you were. “I’m sorry.”

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love, Maybe? {14}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. 3 years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

Note: Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Slightly Edited/Proofread**

**Partially Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️  ❤️ ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 14: Finding Vixen

 -Vixen-

   “Wow, things are moving quickly.”

   You spun around the construction site the crew was making progress with the space that would be your restaurant. You couldn’t believe in a matter of weeks what was happening.

   “Things move quickly when everything aligns,” Zack responded from behind you. You looked to him and smiled, but as you stared at him, you only saw one face looking back at you. The smile slipped from your lips, and you gulped down the emotion threatening to spill out. Turning your back, you tried your best to pull yourself together.

    “You okay Vixen?”

   Clearing your throat, you nodded as you took a few steps away to what would or could be the spot for the outdoor eating spot. You bit your bottom lip, while a swell of pride and accomplishment fulled you, sadness and a feeling of being overwhelmed flooded you as well. It had been four days since you’d seen Chris, four days since your entire world had come crashing down, four days since the feelings you thought were long gone surfaced again, four days since the encounter you’d always dreaded and planned would go smoothly went the opposite. Sighing you took a deep breath and turned to face Zack, Kassius and the small team that was assembled for your expansion.

 “Are you happy with this so far? Any suggestions?”

   Glancing around you took in the demolition that looked just to have begun. You shook your head.

   “No, this looks to be the beginning nothing much to make suggestions on. I’d like to look at it again once it’s cleared out, just want to make sure everything transitions right.”

   “Absolutely. I’ve seen Giovanni’s in San Fran; I can imagine how particular you are about the visual of your restaurant. As long as we’re on schedule, things should be clear in another day or two,” Timothy one of the members of the team said.

   You nodded and made your way to the front door as everyone else followed. When you stepped out into the LA sun, you placed your sunglasses on your nose. Zack approached beside you and put his hand on the small of your back.

   “Are you sure you’re okay?”

   “Yes, I’m fine. I just haven’t gotten a lot of sleep the last few days, and it’s always a hassle moving in.”

   Zack nodded and slowly rubbed your back. You tried not to shy away from his touch.

   “I can treat you to a relaxing night, dinner, a drink, maybe a massage.”

   He smiled softly, and you felt the genuineness of his offer, but you knew it wasn’t something you were going to pass on. You smiled, hoping to soften the blow.

  “You’re so sweet Zack, I appreciate it, I really do, but since the move, Ella hasn’t gotten back to her regular sleeping schedule I need to focus on her right now. I’m sorry.”

  He looked as if he were trying to swallow the rejection. You hoped he wouldn’t make it a big thing. In all truth, while you liked his company, you really didn’t want to date. You didn’t feel much of anything for anyone, except him. Zack nodded, looked down, and nodded some more.

   “I understand. You’re a mom first. It’s admirable. I’m not going to lie and say I’m not disappointed, but I understand. Just uh—I want you to know that I like you Vixen, I didn’t expect it, but there it is. I would like to get to know you better really try to build something with you.”

   “Uuugh, jeez Vix. What do you say to that?”

   After you looked around you taking notice of how close the others were you decided now wasn’t the right place to let him down. You also didn’t want to lead him on.

   ��All right Vixen, so we’re going to schedule another walk through once all demo is done, and we’ll make some decisions. I have a few mocks for you to look over and hopefully by then we’ll have some ideas,” Kassius said.

   “Yes, I’ll look over these.”

   You took the folder that looked thicker than a George A. Romano novel and bugged your eyes out.

  “Good lord.”

   “Yes, a lot of decisions to be made, this is the fun part,” he finished with a broad smile on his face.

   “I’ll see you then. Are you coming, Zack? We’re still on for golf?”

   Zack looked at you and nodded once he realized you weren’t going to respond to his declaration. You were glad your shades were darker than the midnight sky because your eyes weren’t hiding anything.

   “Yeah. I’ll call you,” Zack said before he walked to Kassius and the two walked off to Kassius’ bright red sports car. You nodded your head to the rest of the team and made your way to your rental car.

   You looked into the mirror and shook your head before you started your engine to begin on your to-do list. At the top was picking up some more groceries, then some office supplies and then to pick up some stuff for Ella. You hated the grocery places around the house; they were overpriced for no reason, and the produce never looked fresh. That meant you were going to drive over five miles to get to the supermarket Zack told you about—Gleason’s.

   As you drove your mind drifted back to seeing Chris. The last time you’d seen him, you’d told him to have a nice life. You were pissed and hurt, and it seemed like a good enough thing to say. Shit, you didn’t even know why you were pissed, you brought it on yourself. You were stupid enough to think that there was anything possible between the two of you.

   You should have known better. The way he carried himself, the way he spoke, and dressed it screamed bachelor, screamed down for a good time and nothing more. Every alarm rang off in your head about him the minute you saw him at the table. Everything in you screamed “don’t,” but the other voice in you said, “just do it, it’s Vegas.” Yeah well, “it’s Vegas” turned into a kid and haunting memories. That didn’t change the fact that he was still gorgeous and his shoulders were bigger than ever.

   “Of course he had to be gorgeous. Of course he couldn’t turn ugly or have gained thirty pounds of fat. No, he got sexy as fuck and gained thirty pounds of muscle.”

   You groaned loudly and focused again on the GPS that predicted you’d reach your destination in five minutes. Once you parked in the lot, you roamed the aisles pushing the cart before you.

  “Black tea, herbal tea, coffee, check.” You dropped the items in the cart and went perusing down the next.

   “Rice Krispies, honey bunches of oats, oatmeal, flour, food coloring, sugar, yeast, check.”

   You turned down the refrigerator aisle to scan for eggs, milk, butter, cheese, yogurt, orange juice, coffee creamer, jello, cream cheese, and that disgusting iced coffee drink Nexus loved. With your list about half done you allowed yourself to get distracted in the produce section where they held fresh flowers. You loved fresh flowers. There were pink, red, blue, yellow and even white flowers of all varieties. You decided on two beautiful assortments of pink and yellow roses and a separate one of pink orchids, you loved orchids. Tipping your head down to take a whiff of the fragrant flowers you looked over to the other side of the section and saw the actor Nexus was losing her mind over—Anthony Mackie. Quickly putting the flowers in your cart you made a u-turn to get back on track, you definitely didn’t want a run in.

   Just as you thought you were safe in the bread aisle holding two selections of bread, one you liked and one Ella couldn’t get enough of you you saw him. Your legs thought you had time to make another getaway, but your brain knew better, he saw you too. Anthony approached you with a friendly smile on his face as he tipped his hat lower. You knew it was pointless, but you still turned and rolled out the aisle. As soon as you made it to the soda and water aisle, he was at your side.

   “Vixen right?”

   Sighing, you nodded. “That’s right.”

   “I’m going to say you didn’t see me, that’s why you walked away; otherwise, that was rude.”

   You snorted and shook your head. He had to be kidding.

   “I was trying to protect your incognito look. I’m thinking if these people knew they were walking next to The Falcon himself they’d draw a scene and there goes your disguise. By the way, that’s a horrible disguise.”

   Anthony chuckled and nodded his head.

   “Of course you’re as snarky as your sister. Speaking of, how is she? Is she here?”

   You looked at Anthony as he quickly looked up and down the aisle as if looking for her. Scoffing again you responded, “No, she’s not here. Why does it matter?”.

   “Just curious.”

   “Bullshit!”

   You laughed out loud and pushed the cart further and placed other items in your cart. “I can see right through you. Looks like another one bites the dust.”

   “Another one bites the dust? What does that mean?”

   “It means you’ve been hit with the Nexus haze. Almost every man that speaks to her for any amount of time falls under her spell. You Mr big-time movie star are no different.”

   Anthony smiled and shrugged, but he didn’t look as smug as he usually did, no this time he looked as if he felt threatened as if he were worried. He should be Nexus wasn’t half a woman like these barbie doll actresses and models she was one hundred percent that bitch and she was a force to be reckoned with. The two of you walked in silence for a few feet.

   “So, I learned a fun fact recently. You’d never believe it,” Anthony began.

   “Oh yeah, what fun fact is that?”

   “Three years ago, a woman went to Vegas for some fun and ended marrying Captain America himself.” Your brain failed to communicate with your legs, and you just stopped in the middle of the aisle.

   “He told him. Shit!”

   “But you believe it, because—,” Anthony leaned into your ear and whispered. “You are that woman.”

   You looked to him, unsure what to say. You could deny, deny, deny, but you were sure Chris was the one to tell him. You sighed again.

   “Don’t worry, he’s my best friend, your secret is safe with me.” You walked again and turned down another aisle.

   “Was it shock that had you running like a bat outta hell, or was it something else? Do you hate him?”

   “I hate no one; there is no time for all of that. I have too many things to accomplish.”

  “Okay, a mature one. He lucked out,” Anthony joked. The humor of it was lost on you. You didn’t bother laughing or smiling about it either.

   “It was good seeing you again, take care,” you rushed out as you walked to the cash-out. You didn’t know if you’d gotten everything, but you needed to get out of there. It was insane; every second you spent around him, you felt it was only a matter of time before he saw the truth through your eyes, or seeping from your pores.

   You unloaded the groceries on the belt then saw Anthony help. Rolling your eyes, you stayed quiet.

   “How do you feel about seeing him again after so long?”

   Groaning you turned to him your frustrations seeped out. “What’s it to you? What’s with all the questions? We did what we did, but we also went through with the divorce, it’s all water under the bridge now. No need to keep talking about it.”

   Anthony studied you as you continued to unload the groceries so the cashier could do her job. You were usually good at keeping your emotions in check, but everything was becoming a lot more difficult. You hated it.

   “Whew, that sounds like a lot of hurt and anger, years worth of it. Maybe not so much water under the bridge, huh.” Antony’s eyes bored into you, and you narrowed yours. Anthony nodded again and stepped back.

   “Take care of yourself Vixen. Oh, and could you give your sister a message for me? Tell her I didn’t mean to hurt her, I didn’t plan on it. I was telling her the truth.”

   As quickly as he appeared, he disappeared, allowing you to focus again. You moved as quickly as you could to wrap up the rest of your errands. By the time you made it home, the sun was down, and you had a car full of shit. After thirty minutes of unloading and unpacking, you dropped onto the couch to catch your breath. Ella ran to you, you quickly scooped her up and dropped kiss after kiss across her face. She released an uproar of giggles that made your heart swell.

   “Top, top, top!”

   “No, no, no, take all mommy’s kisses, take them all!”

   Her laughter filled the entire room, and soon, Nexus was beside you holding Ella down as she tickled her small ribs. This only made her wiggle and scream even more. The two of you slowly stopped, and Ella settled down comfortably in your arms, holding tightly to you.

  “Long day?”

   You looked to Nexus and nodded.

   “That’s a big book.”

   “It is, and I have a few more days to look through and find my aesthetic for the next round of meetings. Things are moving fast. Maybe we can be in and out of LA sooner than I thought.”

   Nex gave you a look that said: “be real, aren’t you forgetting something.” You ignored it and flipped through the design pages.

   “Vixen.”

   “What do you think of this one? It’s airy and modern but still has a traditional vibe.”

   Flipping to another page, you have the book your full attention. Seeing another contender, you showed your sister.

   “Ooh, this looks very modern like a real celebrity restaurant. Doesn’t say much to traditional comfort but what the hell step into the times, right.”

   “Vixen!”

   “What!?”

   “You know what,” Nexus exasperated. You shrugged and continued to flip the pages determined not to address what Nex clearly wanted you to.

   “Vixen, you know damn well you can’t leave LA without telling Chris about Ella.” You groaned and rolled your eyes.

   You knew you shouldn’t have told her shit. Now it would be even harder to ignore the shoulds. When you didn’t answer after a few minutes, she took the heavy binder off your lap and placed it on the side table nearest her. Groaning you stood and walked back in the kitchen to busy yourself, hoping it would distract you. You took out the meat for the meatballs you planned on making to accompany the spaghetti—Ella’s favorite. Refusing to take the hint, Nex walked in and crossed her arms before the island. You knew ignoring her would only work for so long, but you were going to milk it for every second you could.

   You took out the flour and the other ingredients to make your signature pasta. Once you opened the fridge to grab some tomatoes and herbs for your sauce and closed the door, you came face to face with Nexus’ annoyed face. You snorted unable to hide your amusement.

   “This isn’t funny Vix. It’s serious and a huge thing. It’s not just your life; you’re impacting. There are two other people, one small who cannot make a decision and the other who--,”

   “Who what Nex? You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s really like,” you blurted out slamming the cutlery drawer a tad harder than you intended.

    “What the hell does that mean?”

   Again you ignored her and began washing your produce, focusing on getting every invisible speck of dirt. You’d told her the cliff notes version, beginning, middle, then end. You didn’t tell her the in between. You didn’t want to relive it out loud, you were fine keeping it a trip you took every night before you went to sleep. Once the produce was washed, you got to work chopping and dicing. You knew you were stressed because the knife was moving faster than ever and you knew she saw it too.

   “I’m waiting. What does that mean? What is he really like?”

   Kissing your teeth, you shook your head, “Forget it, Nex; it’s not important.”

   “Clearly it is. There has to be a reason why you never told him about her, a reason you never claimed the child support that was rightfully yours. You know you could have used it while you were pregnant and the parts of the first year. Why? Did he hurt you? does he hit women?”

   Nex shifted her stance, and you knew she was ready to pop off. She’d always been your keeper, your protector. You remembered a few girls she’d seriously beat down because they looked at you wrong across the playground. You sighed out, taking a pause with the chopping to give her a reassuring look.

   “No, he didn’t hit me.” You saw her shoulders relax and her expression softening; then you returned to the task at hand.

   “So he didn’t hit you. He did hurt you though.”

   Nexus was no idiot. She knew how to hear what you said and decipher what you didn’t. You did your best to give no reaction as you moved around the kitchen.

   “Okay, I get it. You didn’t tell him to spite him.”

   “No!”

   Though you adamantly rebuked that, part of you felt a way and you wondered if any part of you felt that way.

   “Okay. So he hurt you, you ran back home with your tail tucked, and you hid away for the next near three years. What did he do?”

   “Nex, please. It’s not important. Let’s drop it.”

   “I’m trying to help. You seem to be ignoring or purposely forgetting that you have to tell him. I owe him nothing, and I don’t know him from Adam and my loyalties don’t lie with him that’s with you--,”

   “So drop it. Have my back, be my pitbull!”

   “Vix, don’t ever get it twisted and think I’m not riding for you one hundred. It’s always been you and me against the world, and it’s still that way. Just—this goes past that. This is a morally right and wrong issue. How would you feel not knowing you had a mini replica of you running around the world?”

   “Fine, because I wouldn’t know.” Nexus walked around the island to you and put her arm around you. She could sense your breakdown was imminent. She gently rubbed your bare arm and let the silence fill the room. You closed your eyes, hoping to stop your warring thoughts. Of course part of you knew what she was saying was sound and right, but the other side refused to hear it.

   “You’re afraid,” Nexus worded.

   There it was plain as day, no hidden pretenses, no shade, no covers, just blatant truth. You were afraid. You were shitfaced scared.

   “It’s okay to be scared. There is nothing wrong with it. Hell if you weren’t scared I’d be worried because that would show that you really have no intention of doing the right thing. I know you, Vix, do the right thing is your middle name. Somewhere inside you know you have to tell him, want to or not, have to and should outweigh it this time.”

   “This is why I didn’t want to go to that stupid expo or come to this dumb place. It has a way of stealing and crushing dreams,” you groaned out.

   “Or realigning them and showing you a new, different, better dream.”

   You glanced at Nexus, took a deep breath, and released it. She was right — bottom line.

   “Fuck!”

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Chris-

  415-653-7575.

   It wasn’t hard to get. All he had to do was google her and her location. He had all her information from three years ago. He had her full name, city, state, P.O Box information. In truth, he had everything he needed, and if he needed more, he could easily get more, it was a perk of being him. In all the years he didn’t use it, didn’t search, didn’t allow his curiosity to take over. Today he did.

   It took him less than a minute to find her on Google, her name was uncommon, there was literally one Vixen Giovanni in San Francisco. It took him another minute to find her restaurant. Her restaurant. He was impressed. She said she wanted to open a restaurant and be a chef and she’d accomplished it, and she was successful. He spent nearly twenty minutes just looking through food reviews, articles, and pictures all of her and everything he remembered thinking and feeling those years ago came back.

   He suspected it would be like this—feared it really which made him avoid doing this very thing for so long. He was afraid he was right, and he was. It took him the next hour to get the balls to call the number for her restaurant. An hour where he went over and over what he would say. He didn’t know where you were; it had been nearly a week since he saw you, you could have gone back to San Francisco.

   He went over and over what he would say if you answered. He didn’t know if he should go with a calm and cool introduction; “Hey Vixen, remember me your ex-husband,” or an apologetic one; “I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from but—.” It was impossible to read you from the quick exchange days ago. You hadn’t spoken, you didn’t look angry, or happy or anything, your expression was blank, and then you were gone. He didn’t know what to expect.

   When hour two was near, he bit the bullet and dialed your restaurant. The hostess transferred him to the manager who informed him you were out of town. Due to his quick thinking, he pretended to be interested in a potential business opportunity, it was then the manager gave him your cell phone number. He was surprised it was that easy. Now that was where he was, staring at your number with a bottle of beer on his right side, whiskey on the other and a joint in his hand. He leaned back and took several long puffs before holding them for a breath allowing the drug to haze away all his thoughts. Once he blew out the smoke, he took a long swig of his beer.

   “Jesus Chris, it’s not hard, just dial the number. One step at a time.”

   He took up his phone and punched in the numbers and hovered his finger over the green button, thinking about his actions one last time. Taking another long pull from his joint, he tapped the button and put it on speaker. It rang once, twice, three times and before he tapped the red button to end the call, a voice called out through the line.

   “Hello?”

   His brain froze, and speech did with it, so he sat there completely flustered.

   “Hello? Anyone there?”

   Still, he didn’t speak. Only when the line went dead did he move, he dropped back against the couch and groaned loudly into the night sky.

   “Come on, man!”

TagList:

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****If the spacing is all messed up I apologize. I copy and past from Word and try to anticipate Tumblr messing up the spacing and fix it but once I push post everything always jumbled out. Sorry guys.

[tierneysinclair]

“Nobody’s ever been arrested for a murder; they have only ever been arrested for not planning it properly.” ― Terry Hayes, I Am Pilgrim

Basic Information

Full name: Tierney Sinclair Pronunciation: Tier-Knee Sin-Claire Nickname(s): Not if you like to live. Tierney doesn’t do nicknames. Tierney is the only name he’ll answer to. Birthdate:  September 8, 1979 Age: 40 Zodiac: Virgo Gender: Cis-Male Pronouns: he/him Romantic Orientation: Straight Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Nationality: American Ethnicity: White Current Location: Miami, Florida Living Conditions: Tierney lives in a small apartment above his new garage. It’s nothing fancy and that’s the way he likes it. Well worn couches, outdated kitchen appliances, wear worn towels. He doesn’t live in the slums but owning only new things has never been a part of Tierney’s lifestyle.

Background

Birthplace: Las Vegas, Nevada Hometown: N/A Social Class: Presents as lower-middle class but has enough money in the bank to be upper class if he really wanted to be. But he never will. Educational Achievements: None. Tierney never went to school. By the time he was released for the testing facility it was too late and too hard to get someone like him caught up. Sporadically home schooled by staff and other people Tierney isn’t the sort of person you want on your trivia team. He struggles with complex math, history, and all other assorted ‘average school knowledge’. Father: Unknown Mother: Unknown Sibling(s): Unknown Birth Order: N/A Pets: None Previous Relationships: Nothing lasts longer than a night. Do one night stands count? Arrests: A lot. By the time Tierney aged out of the foster program he’d been arrested more times than he had fingers and toes. Nothing major, minor mischief and petty theft. It wasn’t until he was picked up by the Syndicate that he started doing bigger crimes. And by then he had the support network to not get arrested. Prison Time: Surprisingly, not a lot. Accumulated, no more than a few months. It pays to have friends in low places.

Occupation & Income

Current Occupation: Hitman for the Blackburn Syndicate & Freelance Motorcycle Restorer Dream Occupation: None. Tierney has a limited view of both his life and the world. The idea of having a ‘dream’ anything is a foreign concept to him. Past Job(s): He was boy once at a greasy diner once. When they found out he’d lied about who he was a week later he was fired. Chicago wasn’t kind to kids with rap sheets and level five rankings. Falling in with the Syndicate has been the only ‘real’ job he’s ever had. Spending Habits: Tierney is a very frugal person. He buys almost everything second hand or used and very rarely spends it on anything new. The only expensive things he owns are his bikes and a flat screen TV. Tierney’s not ashamed to admit most of his money gets spent on bike parts anyways. Debt: Never. Credit cards mean government ability to track him. And being in debt t other people is a one way trip to being killed over it at a later date. Tierney repays any debts he can’t avoid as quickly as possible, but he tends to avoid accruing debts as much as possible. Most Valuable Possession: Some people might say it would be his bikes, and from a purely financial stand point it most definitely is, but according to Tierney it’s the Blackburn Syndicate, hands down.

Skills & Abilities

Physical Strength: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney works out twice a day, every day, no exceptions. He needs to be in top physical condition for every job and now it’s just become a part of his daily habits. He’s supremely strong in his own right but mix his powers in with it and a supremely dedicated force of will he could probably lift a car above his head.

Speed: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney isn’t the fastest hitman on the market but he’s perfectly capable of darting in and out of a situation with speed. It’s part of the job to act quickly and what he lacks in sheer speed he knows he more than makes up for elsewhere.

Intelligence: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney never went to school. What schooling he did get the few years he had between testing and aging out was sporadic at best. He’s not ashamed of his faults but he doesn’t go around talking about them much either. Besides, being able to recite the presidents holds no bearing on his life choices so...what’s it matter? Tierney knows how to do his job exceptionally well. What Tierney doesn’t know ranges from complex math to the English Oxford Comma.

Accuracy: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney’s powers require a certain degree of needed accuracy coupled with the fact he’s exceptionally talented with a range of deadly weapons. He prides himself in hitting exactly what he’s aiming at every time. Sure, he misses, but that usually because his target makes an unexpected move before he can account for it.

Agility: Above Average | Average | Below Average

He’s getting older, he won’t lie about that, and that’s starting to show. Tierney is less likely to look like a stunt double these days. No somersaults or daring roof top leaps happen these days. Besides, it’s more dramatic to sweep in like an avenging angel and sweep out just as quickly. Agility is good for running away. But you only run away when you get caught. And Tierney never gets caught.

Stamina: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney’s powers are tied directly to his stamina. It’s taken him years and years of practice to build up the stamina he has now. He can use his powers for hours before he starts to feel winded and hours more before he gets tired. (Unless he goes for the super taxing activities like lifting buildings or psionic explosions.) It’s perhaps his greatest strength, his ability to keep going when others weaker than him might stop.

Teamwork: Ciara Sawyer is his go-to partner. Hell, most would call her his only partner. He doesn’t like working with other people and tries very hard not to do it. He will when he must but he’ll be begrudging about it the whole time. Talents/Hobbies: Motorcycles, Lockpicking, Murder Shortcomings: His sense of justice, the inability to kill someone who isn’t involved with what he’s doing. It’s a bonus he can erase minds when he wants to. Anyone who knows Tierney from work and outside of work knows he has a severe weak spot for his gang. Touch a hair on their heads and he tends to lose focus. Languages Spoken: English Drive?: Yes. A MV Agusta Brutale. Jump-Start a Car?: Yes Change a Flat Tire?: All the time. Ride a Bicycle?: No way. In hell. Swim?: Not because he likes to. Play an Instrument?: Nope Play Chess?: Yes Braid Hair?: No Tie a Tie?: Yes. Of course! Pick a Lock?: Oh hell yeah. With his mind. Cook?: Yes, but not well.

Physical Appearance & Characteristics

Faceclaim: Joel Kinnaman Eye Color: Brownish/Greenish Hair Color: Ashy Blonde Hair Type/Style/Length: Average/Well Kept/Short Glasses/Contacts?: None Dominant Hand: Right Height: 6′ 2″ Weight: 187lbs Build: Athletic Exercise Habits: Two session, morning and evening. Every day, two hours. With intermittent practice in between with others. Skin tone: Fair Tattoos: Left shoulder reaching to just below his elbow, spiders out to cover some of his chest and back. Got it to cover up an old gunshot scar. A faded string of numbers on his right arm (080879-58-05). Piercings: None Marks/Scars: Tierney is covered in scars. From battle wounds to childhood scrapes, to remnants of his life as a test mutant. Most can be found on his chest and back but part of why he wears pants and sleeves is to hide the others. Don’t want his identifying marks to get out and doesn’t like explaining to others what happened to him in order to get that many scars. Clothing Style: Dark colors, long pants, long sleeves, deep pockets. Usually a coat when the weather allows. The more places to hide the things he needs to work the better. But he cleans up well, he has plenty of suits in his closet too. Usually second hand stuff, the only time he buys something fancy is when he’s on a job. Jewelry: A set of dog tags labeling him a level five mutant. Nothing more. Allergies: None Diet: Average. More fast food than probably healthy. Physical Ailments: Stiff knees. Jumped off a few too many building in his younger years. Spent too many hours kneeling behind walls after that. They don’t bother him much but anyone with eyes can see they’re stiff. His left shoulder is also stiff, he favors it. Perhaps on of his worst gun shot injuries to date. It haunts him. And aches when the weather changes.

Psychology

MBTI Type: ISTJ-A (The Logistician)

ISTJs are often called inspectors. They have a keen sense of right and wrong, especially in their area of interest and/or responsibility. They are noted for devotion to duty. Punctuality is a watchword of the ISTJ. As do other Introverted Thinkers, ISTJs often give the initial impression of being aloof and perhaps somewhat cold. Effusive expression of emotional warmth is not something that ISTJs do without considerable energy loss. ISTJs are most at home with "just the facts, Ma'am." They seem to perform at highest efficiency when employing a step-by-step approach.

Enneagram Type: Type 6 (The Skeptic)

The committed, security-oriented type. Sixes are reliable, hard-working, responsible, and trustworthy. Excellent "troubleshooters," they foresee problems and foster cooperation, but can also become defensive, evasive, and anxious—running on stress while complaining about it. They can be cautious and indecisive, but also reactive, defiant and rebellious. They typically have problems with self-doubt and suspicion. At their Best: internally stable and self-reliant, courageously championing themselves and others.

Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral

A lawful neutral character acts as law, tradition, or a personal code directs her. Order and organization are paramount to her. She may believe in personal order and live by a code or standard, or she may believe in order for all and favor a strong, organized government.

Temperament: Choleric

Cholerics are extroverted, quick-thinking, active, practical, strong-willed, and easily annoyed. They are self-confident, self-sufficient, and very independent minded. They are brief, direct, to the point, and firm when communicating with others.

Element: Earth & Fire Emotional Stability: Stable Introvert or Extrovert?: Introvert Obsession(s): Motorcycles. Tierney doesn’t know a lot outside of how to kill someone and get away with it. But he knows practically everything there is to know about motorcycles. How they work, how the break, how to fix them. Everything. Some would call him obsessed but Tierney calls it laser focused. Compulsion(s): Protecting his family. It’s what’s on his mind in every situation. All of his actions are dictated by this fact. Even for decisions that aren’t going to impact the Syndicate are measured against this need. It’s never occurred to him that it might, in fact, be a problem. It’s just natural. Phobia(s): Mutant testing facilities. It’s irrational, especially now, to be afraid of getting taken back to the white walled hellscape he grew up in. But he is. He scrubs his name clean where ever he goes and actively avoids anyone in a lab coat who starts asking questions. He even takes down fliers asking for mutants to ‘willingly’ submit to testing. He doesn’t talk about those years for damn good reasons. Addiction(s): None Drug Use: None Alcohol Use: Often Prone to Violence?: Always Prone to Crying?: No Believe in Love at First Sight?: No

Mannerisms

Accent: Depends. A bit of a hodgepodge of Boston and Midwestern. Tends to adapt to the common accent after a while when staying in a place for a prolonged period of time. Speech Quirks: None Hobbies: Motorcycle Repair, Motorcycle Rebuilding Habits: Spinning things in the air when he’s concentrating. Leg bouncing. Ordering more food than he can eat so he has left overs in the fridge. Nervous Ticks: Rubbing his nose and spinning objects in the air at high rates of speed. Drives/Motivations: Protecting his family. Fears: Losing his family, someone dying on him, being taken back in for testing. Sense of Humour?: Dry. Like the desert. Do They Curse Often?: Like. All the time.

Favorites

Animal: Bear Beverage: Heineken Beer and/or Black Coffee Book: None. Tierney hates reading. Color: Deep Green Food: Ciara’s Flower: None Gem: Emeralds Mode of Transportation: Motorcycles Scent: Fresh brewed coffee, rain on the horizon, motorcycle oil, pizza grease on your fingers Sport: Football and Hockey Weather: Rain Vacation Destination: None

Attitudes

Greatest Dream: End mutant testing. Tierney sees nothing productive in the act and goes out of his way to end it whenever and wherever he can. Mutants are people. Not lab rats to be poked at or taken away from their families. Greatest Fear: Losing one of his family and being taken back for mutant testing. Most at Ease When: Elbow deep in one of his bikes with of his closest friends lounging on the couch across the way. Least as Ease When: He doesn’t know what’s going on around him. When his plans has fallen through and he’s no longer in control of what’s happening around him. Worst Possible Thing That Could Happen: Alma being murdered. Biggest Achievement: Taking out the president of the company that held him as a test subject when he was a child. Biggest Regret: He has exactly Eleven. Eleven deaths that weren’t supposed to happen but did.

[bruciewayne]

as long as you want to

set in iron man 2, rhodeytony, hurt/comfort, 2.2k, on ao3

- for @iron-man-bingo

Certificate of Marriage

This certifies that

James Edward Rhodes

AND

Anthony Edward Stark

were united in marriage in the city of Las Vegas, in state of Nevada

36 Hours ago...

“Can I ask you something personal?” Tony asks, looking up at Natalie. She nods, a small and controlled movement and carries on dabbing concealer on his face. “If this was the last birthday party you were ever going to have, what would you do?” For him, it’s not really a question of if anymore, is it? But Natalie doesn’t have to know.

He’s debated telling Rhodey and Pepper, but that would just make the whole ‘dying’ part harder, before, when the toxicity was lower, there’d been no point in worrying them, when a cure was on the horizon, except now, his boat’s pretty much sunk, so there’s no point lighting a flare if no-one’s going to come in time.

He really, really should tell Rhodey. The first person who cared for him, out of choice, his first real friend, his first love (not that he knows, because that would be too much for him), god, fuck he should tell him, he deserves to know. But he can’t. It feels like the ultimate defeat.

Natalie stops pressing the beauty blender against his face and looks him in the eye.

“I would do whatever I wanted to do, with whoever I wanted to do it with,” she says, softly, holding his gaze. Tony swallows and breaks eye contact.

So he goes to Vegas.

(He didn’t take a single syllable of her advice. He wants to spend the night marathoning Star Wars with Rhodey, but he can’t be with Rhodey. Not now. It’ll be better for everyone. It’s better if he just pushes everyone away, just push and push until he doesn’t have anyone, but by that point, he’ll be dead anyway.

A man who has everything… and nothing.)

He gets there with the suit, it’s faster and results in fewer questions than the jet. And it’s a chance to show it off, which is always a plus. It might make getting back later harder, but in all honesty, he’d rather go out in a crash in the suit than the slow and painful end the palladium promised.

He lands, secures a room, opens a tab and gets as much alcohol in his system as possible while still being able to bet and mess around. He supposes that the palladium changed his tolerance, which was a shame in many ways, but now it just meant that he could get drunk faster.

He doesn’t know what he’s even doing, everything’s a blur. It’s the last birthday he’s ever going have and he won’t even fucking remember it.

Happy 40th birthday to him.

Whatever. He takes another shot and goes to roll the dice, but some guy stops him. Some guy with 2 heads? Rhodey! Oh fuck.

“Yeah, fuck,” he grumbles, voice just about getting through to Tony, “you’re coming with me.”

Tony knows that because of the whole ‘Iron Man’ thing he’s been fitter than he’s ever been in his life, but he’s still no match for Rhodey, so he’s very easily manhandled… somewhere. Easily, only in his eyes. For Rhodey, it was the farthest thing from ‘easy’, Tony kept trying to hug him, which he’s rarely opposed to, but now, it was just causing a general hinderance. He must be further gone than thought.

Eventually, they get out the casino and Rhodey gets in the Iron Man suit (he refuses to let Tony anywhere near controlling it when he’s this drunk, if he can’t drive a car, he can’t fly the suit).

“Colonel Rhodes,” JARVIS greets, after the mandatory retinal scans.

“Hey JARVIS,” Rhodey always made a point to interact with Tony’s ‘bots. He has a soft spot for Dum-E. (He pretends it’s not because he was the very first person he showed him to.)

“Take care of my creator, would you?” JARVIS says, and Rhodey doesn’t know if Tony’s truly mastered giving AI emotions, but he seems to speak profoundly, as if he were passing on a baton. There’s something Tony’s not telling him. But that’s not a priority right now.

“I’ll try my best.” For as long as he’s alive, he’ll always try to take care of him, always love him. At this point, it’s been so long, he doesn’t know if he can do anything else.

He grabs Tony and flies them up to his suite, they land on the balcony. He pushes him on the bed before getting out of the suit to JARVIS wishing him, “Good luck, Colonel.”

“Ooh I wouldn’t be oppos’d t’ this,” Tony says, well, slurs, really, head lolling - he’s been in Vegas for about an hour, maybe, Rhodey has no idea how he got this drunk already, but Tony’s always been good at defying his expectations. Rhodey thinks nothing of it, Tony’s just... like that. Platonically.

“Tones, I’m gonna get you some water, okay?” Rhodey says, pushing him so he’s leant against the headboard and tugging his shoes off. He goes to find a bottle of water (there’s one in the minifridge, nestled behind mini bottles of whiskey and cognac) and by the time he’s back, Tony’s on the verge of tears, body drawn into a small ball in the corner of the bed.

“Hey, hey, Tones, what’s going on,” he says, gently, coming next to him and kicking his own shoes off, he puts the water bottle on the bedside table and sits on the bed next to him. He wraps an arm around him, Tony’s terrible at asking for affection, but after all these years Rhodey knows, almost intrinsically, when he wants it.

Tony looks up at him with teary eyes and Rhodey feels his heart breaking for him.

“Rode- Rhodey… I’m,” he swallows, “I- this, fuck this’s hard, I--”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay, yeah,” Rhodey can’t listen to him try to force something out, so he pushes the water into his hand and rubs his back until he finishes it. Tony winds his arms around his waist and tucks his head into his neck.

“I’ll, I shouldn’t tell you like, like this, I- tomorrow. Promise,” Tony mumbles into his neck.

“Okay, okay, Tones, sleep, yeah,” Rhodey says, easing them down so they’re actually lying down and pulls Tony further into his arms, “sleep.”

Tony’s out like a light and Rhodey is staring up at the ceiling until the sun starts to filter in, holding the man he loves.

In the morning, well, afternoon, really, Tony wakes with a start. When he set out last night, he had half expected to end up naked in a stranger’s bed, but as soon as his other senses start to filter in he realises that, while he’s not in his own bed, it’s not a stranger with him. And he’s fully clothed.

“Hey,” Rhodey says, softly, running his hands through Tony’s hair.

Tony groans and buries his head back into the pillows. Right away, he can’t remember much of last night, he knows that he set out with the intent to get shit-faced, and he remembers arriving in the suit, but past that is just a blur. It should come back. Tony’s not too sure that he wants it to come back.

Usually, this is when Rhodey laughs. This time, he murmurs something about getting Advil and water and being back in ten. He untangles himself, much to his disappointment and goes. Tony falls back asleep.

When he wakes up again, there’s a packet of Advil and a couple water bottles on the nightstand, so he swallows two with a bottle of water before taking in the rest of the room. Rhodey’s out on the balcony talking to someone on the phone, but when he notices that Tony’s awake, he hangs up and comes back in.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

“Eh,” Tony replies, which translates into ‘it feels like an anvil fell on my head, and the light hurts a little’, so all in all, not as hungover as he thought he’d be. Rhodey gave him water last night. Which means that Rhodey was here last night. Which means, he probably said something.

“You want to order food or get picked up?” The iron man suit isn’t even in the question.

“Food.” He’s not really up for sentences or words longer than a syllable right now, and ‘picked up’ often means a disapointed Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. Now, it may even mean a disappointed Natalie.

“Breakfast?”

Tony manages a smile at that, “Yeah.” The only problem with breakfast is that food will ease up the hangover and clear up his brain, which means that he’ll remember what he did. Or said. Fuck.

After they’ve eaten Tony still isn’t sure of what he said last night, but he does know that there was crying involved on his part. He so rarely is the melancholy drunk.

‘I’m dying’ rang loud in his mind, it should be easy to say, 2 words, 3 syllables, but he can’t force it out and instead makes a promise he doesn’t know if he can keep.

Liquid courage indeed.

It comes easily this time. Maybe it’s the sober-ness, the lack of urgency. Rhodey still has his arm around him and they’re stretched out on the bed, the plates, empty, on the floor. He’s feeling relaxed.

“I’m dying,” he says, simply. It’s not a weight off his chest (ironically), it’s defeat, it’s admittance.

Rhodey stiffens up next to him, “How long...” do you have left? is the rest of the question, but he can’t bring himself to say it, hell, it hasn’t even really settled in that Tony’s dying.

“A month left.”

Rhodey doesn’t know what to say, so he pulls him into a hug, holding him tight, as if he held tight enough, death couldn’t take him. He knows Tony, he knows that he wouldn’t speak like this, wouldn’t admit defeat, if he hadn’t tried everything he could think of already.

“Important month?”

‘Then this is an important week for you, Stark, isn’t it?’

Tony could give a one-liner, and then they’d have a heavy talk, but on the other hand, Rhodey makes some incredibly valid points, in that, yeah, this is an important month for him.

So he kisses him. If he doesn’t like him then he only has a month of embarrassment anyway.

Rhodey kisses back. It’s sweet and languid, like they’ve been doing this for aeons already, like they should’ve been doing this for aeons.

“Marry me?” Tony says, breathlessly, when they pull away, a smile brightening his face, and fuck Rhodey had missed that damn smile.

“Are you still drunk?” He can’t get his hopes up, but just before Rhodey’s about to start his ‘Don’t get your hopes up for Tony’ speech, the very man in question eases out of bed, sticks his arms out and walks in a perfectly straight line.

Rhodey grins. “Let’s get married!”

On the way to a courthouse (Tony got them bumped up so they wouldn’t have to wait), Tony asks Rhodey, “How long?”

“You remember when you made Dum-E, when you showed me?”

“That long?”

“Yeah.”

Tony rolls his eyes, “I can’t believe that we could’ve been married for decades already.” There’s more that they could’ve said, should’ve said, about how long they’ve loved, why they’ve kept quiet, but that seems irrelevant now and in the moment.

“Better late than never, huh?”

The smile on Tony’s face is ridiculously sappy, he knows that, but he can’t find it in himself to stop it, “Yeah.”

The ceremony is short and quick. They’ve waited over 2 decades, any more would be lost time. They’re both smiling so bright, because none of it feels real, none of it ever seemed tangible, but now it is. And they only have a month left.

They’re back in the hotel, in the exact same positions they were in before they were married.

“Rhodey, I was serious, I, I only have a month left,” Tony says, breaking the silence and bursting their bubble. He doesn’t want to go back to Malibu, if, when, he goes back, everything’s going to be so, so much more real, now, in Vegas he can pretend that his problems don’t exist

“Tony, if there’s anything you can do, it’s go against the odds, regardless of those odd--”

“Yeah, but this time, Rhodey, I don’t know if I can,” Tony interrupts, he sits up, turns himself to face him and unbuttons his shirt, revealing the extent of the poisoning. “Look me in the eye and tell me I can fix this,” Tony challenges, he’s angry, but he’s also begging, he doesn’t want to die, he wants to, he has to, live. For Rhodey.

“Do you want to?” Rhodey challenges back, voice barely above a whisper.

Tony doesn’t answer.

“Tony Stark, do you want to live?”

“Yes.”

Rhodey pulls him into a hug, “Then you will, baby, you will, this isn’t your last birthday, you are going to celebrate you 42nd and 3rd and 4th until you’re old and grey and even then, that damn heart of yours is going to keep on beating, as long as it needs to, as long as you want it to.”

-

iron man bingo masterpost

[waywardnerd67]

Drop Everything

Summary: Kat knew she should not call him. He was constantly busy, off saving the world from evil, but she needed him. She needed him and she knew he would come. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (Mentioned), Kat Pairing: Dean x Kat Warnings: Fluff/Swoon-worthy fluffy Dean Word Count: 1664 A/N #1: This fic is dedicated to the amazing @dean-winchesters-bacon. I heard Luke Bryan’s “Crash My Party” (lyrics is bold) and instantly thought of her and Dean. I know she has been down lately and I’m hoping this little thing will brighten her day. Love ya wifey! A/N #2: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Starting down at her phone, Kat’s fingers tapped nervously on the screen. She hit the home button illuminating her background picture. Three smiling faces staring up at her, one of which was her known that seem so foreign to her now. The other two of her best friends the Winchester brothers. Kat flipped the phone over sighing heavily as she got up from her table.

“Don’t call them Katherine. They are busy and have more important things to worry about other than your measly life problems.” She chastised herself walking into her living room.

She flopped down onto the couch throwing her arms over her eyes letting out a frustrated growl. Life had been a little rough lately. Work lately had been getting to her and she could not pinpoint why. Her family tried to help her out of the funk that had taken up residency in her chest, but they just ended up adding to it. Now, all she wanted to do was escape from everything around her.

That is where the Winchesters, especially the eldest, came into the equation. Over the last few years, they had become her best friends and whenever they were nearby or driving through her hometown they always stopped to see her. Though she had not heard from them in a while and with everything going on she desperately wanted to call them. To run away with them and forgot all about her normal life.

Kat sat up gently chewing on her nails as her internal debate raged on. Deciding she could not bother them she went to the next best thing to forget her problems. Getting up to go back into the kitchen she opened the cabinet over her fridge that held the object of her desire. Grabbing the dark brown bottle and her phone she made her way back to the couch curling up in her favorite blanket and playing some music on her phone.

She was three quarters of the way through the bottle when her brain gave up on trying to reason with her heart. Picking up her phone she dialed the all too familiar number listening to it ring. “This is Dean's other, other cell so, you must know what to do.”

“Hiya handsome, I… I just wanted to hear your v-voice,” her emotions were starting to bubble up in her chest mixing with the incredible buzz she had going from the whiskey, “I-I shouldn’t have call. I’m sorry to bother you.” Kat ended the call, her happy buzz evaporating instantly replaced with immense sadness. Shutting off all the lights, she buried herself within her blanket tears streaming down her face.

The next morning, she was startled awake by loud pounding on her front door. As she got up a piercing pain rang through her head reminding her why she was never a heavy drinker.

“So, help me, Kit-Kat if you do not answer this door in five seconds I will kick it down.” Dean’s booming voice came through the door.

Quickly unlocking and opening the door she was met the intense olive eyes of Dean Winchester. She squinted up at him, “W-What are you doing here?” she asked a sinking feeling developing in her stomach.

He walked passed her coming inside and kicking off his boots right next to the door. Turning around, she watched as her pursed his lips together as his dimples of disapproval showed. “You leave me a drunk voicemail and thought I wouldn’t get my ass over here to make sure you were okay?”

Kat sighed shutting the door walking into the kitchen to brew up some soothing tea. “I’m sorry Dean. I drank a little too much and shouldn’t have called you. You didn’t have to come out here, you could have just called me back, saving you the trip out here.”

She looked over to see his tall, firm body leaning against the counter next to her. “If you wanna call me, call me, call me you don’t have to worry ‘bout it baby. You can wake me up in the dead of the night; wreck my plans, baby that’s alright. This is a drop everything kind of thing.” He said his hand motioning between them.

“I know… it’s just there is nothing you can do about it. It’s not like I have a monster or anything you can fight off. I’m sure you have better things to do or ladies to charm the pants off of.” She glanced over to see him smirking slightly as he looked down at her.

Kat’s heart skipped a beat and she swallowed all the hidden feelings she harbored for him down deep within her. Her emotions were still running on high from early and she could not lose control in front of Dean all because of his damn entrancing aura.

“Actually, Sam and I were having our annual trip to Vegas. I was playing blackjack when you called which is why I didn’t answer.” He said nonchalantly.

Her jaw slacked as guilt hit her like a tidal wave, “Dean I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have a left Sam. Come on, I’ll get your boots and some gas money, so you can get back to Sam.”

She started to walk out of the kitchen when Dean grabbed her hand twirling her around and pulling her into his arms. “It don’t matter what plans I got, I can break ‘em and I don’t mind telling all the guys I can’t meet ‘em. Hell, we can all go raise some hell on any other night. Baby you can crash my party anytime.”

He held her firmly against him and everything she had been holding back suddenly came out in one loud sob shaking her body to the very core. Dean swiftly picked her cradling her in his strong arms and carried her to her bedroom. Their friendship was unlike any other she ever had. She had always kept any guy friends at a distance making sure no lines were ever blurred.

Like everything else concerning Dean Winchester, he was in a league of his own. If he showed up on her door stop needing to be held with question, then that is what she did. If he needed a sense of normalcy, then she would give him chores around her house to fix keeping his hands busy and his mind off whatever was bothering him.

Dean laid her on the mattress immediately climbing in next her pulling her to him again as she cried on his chest. “Tell me what is going on inside that beautiful head of yours.” He whispered as his lips pressed against the top of her head.

Her deep blue eyes locked onto his grassy green ones and everything she had been feeling, dreading and fearing came tumbling from her full lips including the very secret she had held onto all these years of knowing the Winchesters.

“I just feel lonely all the time and then my mind wonders what if I was with Sam and Dean? What if, I was living in the Bunker with them helping to save the world safely behind the warding. What if I left behind my mediocre life for a one that placed me by your side.” Kat felt her cheek burning averting her eyes from his.

Dean’s calloused fingers lifted her chin as a small smile brushed against his lips, “Finally… you admit to having a major crush on me. Sammy, owes me twenty bucks.” He chuckled as she tried to bury her head in her pillows.

Kat looked up when Dean gently took her hand holding it to his chest and the corner of his lips curled up slightly, “If it’s 2 in the morning and you’re feeling lonely and wondering what I’m doing. Go ahead and call me, call me, call me you don’t have to worry ‘bout it baby. I’ll swing on by I will pour you a drink. Keep the door’s unlocked and leave on the lights.”

Her hand begin to tremble as he leaned in closer to her just before his lips touched hers she stopped him, “Don’t… unless this means what I think it means. If this is just a one-night thing in some attempt to make me feel better, then don’t.”

She could already feel her heart breaking knowing there was no way a man like Dean would ever be interested in woman like her. Before he could say anything, she was rolling over to the opposite side of the bed and rushing to get up.

“Ain’t a spot downtown that’s rockin’ the way that you rock me. Ain’t a bar that can make me buzz the way that you do. I could be on the front row of the best show and look down and see your face on my phone and I’m gone so long, hang on.” He said quickly blocking her way out of the room.

“Dean Winchester, I swear…” His full, pouty lips crashing down to hers kept her from finishing her sentence.

Kat always fantasied about Dean being a great kisser and he did not disappoint. He gently pulled her bottom lip between his sucking on it. A deep moan rumbled in his chest as her hands went up into his soft sandy brown hair. The few days stubble scratched at her lips driving her mad for more. Dean’s hands trailed down her body and behind her thighs as he picked her up wrapping her legs around his narrow waist.

Carrying back to the bed he sat down on the bed keeping her on his lap. Both were breathless as they pulled away from one another. His forehead resting against hers, “This is a drop everything kind of thing.” He whispered as the first genuine smile spread across her lips.

From the night on, any time she needed him all she would have to do is call and he dropped everything he was doing to be at her side.  

Kat, I hope this brought a smile on your face and some much needed Dean Winchester comforting. Love ya! -Nikki

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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[andie-vega-blog]

Drabble me this. 25/2/2019.

*1 New Voicemail* - Andie Vega 3:52am 45 Seconds Listen ►

“Mom? Mom… something bad happened. Something… I think I need to come home. I’m okay, I’m just… I know it’s late, I’m sorry. You’re probably asleep. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.”

*1 New Voicemail* - Andie Vega 5:00am 2 Minutes Listen ►

“I know I said I would call you tomorrow but I really don’t know what to do, mom. Something happened with Thomas and I don’t know if we’re going to get through it. Can I come stay with you guys for a few days? I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot the last time, but… I need you, mom. I need you guys. I think I might break… mom, I’m so scared. Please call me back when you get this. I love you. Tell dad I love him too.”

The word she had spoken the few days before rang in her ears and caused a defining silence as her eyes focused on the road in front of her. Andie had been driving for a few hours, taking the long road home to her parents, deciding that the fresh air might do her good. She was already a few hours behind due to the visit she had made to Thomas before she left - not only that, but the back of her car was now empty and void of the memories she had dumped on him before she left. Everything felt cold and distant. The warm sun that lit the dashboard of her car felt raw and hot and it made her uncomfortable - though at this point, everything seemed too. She had gotten into a very lengthy conversation with her parents over the phone the day she asked her boss for a leave of absence. It was mostly full of tears and whispered pleas, the lot of them making plans for Andie to come home for a few days to decompress. Who would have thought she would be going back to her childhood home to do such a thing? But honestly at this point in her life, it was the only place she felt safe - safe to be herself, safe to let all of her emotions out, safe to get her thoughts together. Her surroundings wouldn’t be cluttered with memories and distant echoes of broken promises. She could make do with the mundane tasks of helping her mother garden and aiding her father in fixing up his truck. She could let the monotony of a simple daily routine heal her soul and glue her broken heart back together should she be able to make it through the days without seeing the love of her life.

Did she still deserve to call him that? Probably not. Not after she had left him the way she did, despite the incident that had happened that fateful night. Andie knew that it wasn’t her Thomas who had done that, rather a Thomas she never got the chance to know - one that she questioned whether she wanted to know at all. It was a figment of a life he used to live and she couldn’t possibly hold that against him, even though the bruising on her neck was still visible if you knew where to look.

All of these thoughts plagued her mind until she pulled up to her parents house. Her father, a tall man, was standing outside in the driveway and waved her down when he saw her truck pull up.

The next few hours were a blur.

She hadn’t even bothered to grab her things from the back of her car as she went crumbling into her father’s arms, almost immediately breaking down in deep, wailing sobs. This went on for the majority of the night. Her throat had gone raw from the loud cries she exhaled, her audible sadness piercing the otherwise quiet home she once knew. Elizabeth had been taken up on the couch with her, holding her daughter as she explained everything that had happened through muffled weeping. There had been a blanket draped over the two of them at some point and some tea had been steeped for them to share. It felt like it had been a while since her parents had taken care of her the way they were on this night. The last time had been when she was in a much worse spot, but that didn’t make this time any easier. Her chest ached at how young and frail she felt crying in the arms of her mother. She had managed to explain the nightmare turned reality and the engagement ring she found. They offered her words of comfort and support, but even after everything they did for her, her whole body still felt raw and exposed.

Eventually they had gone to bed and Andie was left in the living room by herself. The television was muted, but the flashing screen was making colour dance across her retinas as she stared at it blankly. Her nimble fingers were playing with the ring that dangled between her breasts - her heart ached every moment she thought about how the proposal could have gone. Standing at the top of the lookout with her partner, joking to him the entire hike up there about how out of shape she was, not at all expecting to turn around and see him down on one knee. It would have broken her heart in the best way - but she had ruined that for them. It wouldn’t be the same even if they managed to make it through everything they were dealing with. The idea of how happy they were before that night made tears well up in her eyes.

Thomas Francis Weaver was the love of her life. She knew that they were meant to be together until they died - there was a certainty she felt about it that she hadn’t felt about anything in her life before. He was meant to hold her hand through their life together, build a family with her, build a life with her - both of them knew this. They felt it so strongly as it had been a long time coming. The connection they had was unique and rare and made Andie feel warm all over.

But now? Now it just hurt. And to make matters worse she had read the letter the man wrote for her. It detailed a life she so desperately wanted to have with her partner, one that she questioned now - only because she didn’t know what their future looked like. It had made her sob so deeply that she had to cover her mouth in fear of waking up her stressed parents. Admittedly, Andie had hauled herself up in the living room wearing the t-shirt Thomas had given her when her things were returned. It still smelled like him and even though it wasn’t clean, she refused to wash away the memories and promises that clung to its edges. It was nearing the time when the sun would rise and as Andie finally let herself lay her head down, the heaviness that clouded her brain dissipated only slightly. She held the letter in front of her face and let herself read it over and over again, hoping to send herself to sleep with dreams of a better, happier life. And that was exactly what she got. She let herself enjoy a sleep filled night full of warm dreams about herself and Thomas and the life they would build together if everything ended up working out for them. In the back of her mind she ached at the idea that they would remain only dreams, but honestly? She would take that if it meant stepping out of her own reality and into a figment of her imagination that made her feel more alive than she did in the real world.

[sanoiro]

Lucifer 3x21 - Meta Post B: The Bleeding, The Dinner and Why Miguel?

I have separated the meta into three different parts which I hope might help a bit to delve better to what Lucifer and Chloe went through emotionally in this episode. Not one of my best metas but a decent one nonetheless. 

Part 1: The Bleeding 

It’s funny how a theory you had for so long and that so very few supported unadulterated moves an entire episode’s mythos forward. 

As Marcus realises early in the episode Lucifer’s invulnerability and his Mark were affected by Chloe’s love. Now many of you will ask does Chloe love him? I will come back to you for that as this is going to be a VERY long post. 

Let’s start from the beginning. Lucifer at first denies that this theory is true because that would mean that Chloe doesn’t love him anymore. What he forgets as many of the audience as well is that just because you have feelings for someone that does not mean you do not love another person anymore. 

What Chloe feels for Marcus? Chloe has feelings for Marcus but not on the same degree she has for Lucifer that alone is clear from this episode and I’ll shortly explain you why. Love also has many forms. Chloe knows as she said so herself how she feels around Marcus and that’s good. She feels loved and that’s what she needs right now after the disaster she went through with Lucifer. 

In 3x21 Chloe says to Ella that this was not the first time she went through this. Meaning crying and feeling sorry for herself. Indeed we have no idea what happened after Chloe switched on the lights in Lucifer’s penthouse between 2x13 and 2x14. We also have no idea how she dealt with all that in the two weeks he was gone... But hey she still believed him, when he appeared in 2x14 her whole face glowed after TWO WEEKS! On the contrary, when Marcus said he was sorry and dumped her only to tell her he loved her she turned him down. 

So why did Chloe say yes in his marriage proposal at the end of the episode? Because of Lucifer. But let’s take things from the start *again*!

Marcus believes he can now grow old with her as there is no reason anymore to keep his distance and protect her. This was a weird 2x14 Deja Vu by the way...  I still do not trust him which makes Lucifer’s words when Marcus appear at the crime scene all too more meaningful. “Shouldn’t you be, I don't know, having tea with Hitler by now?”

Lucifer seems to know that Marcus is going to Hell despite the second’s refusal to believe it. But what if Marcus did realise it early in the 3x21 episode? So killing himself or anything of that sort is a now big no-no. Why making all this way just so to be trapped in a second Hellish loop? This time though literally?

Then Marcus makes the huge confession to which a very bewildered Chloe says: “what do you expect me to say to that?”. This is a HUGE contrast to what she expects Lucifer to say while they have dinner and how open she appeared to be to Lucifer’s confession even after doing so many unbelievable mistakes in the past two seasons... See the difference there? Here is where the Deckerstar episode really begins.

Chloe trusted Lucifer even after leaving her for two weeks for Las Vegas, two days after his phone call between 2x18 and 3x01... She always wanted to be close to him while with Marcus she says words are just words to which I have to say that  I love Ella as she said, ‘take notice of his actions NOT his words’. Basically when it comes to episode 3x21 I say, believed neither of them.

The next scene that intrigued me was the one with the car. Chloe seems happy right there until she realises that Lucifer bought her a car and not the experience of driving fast alone. This also makes us realise early that Lucifer is digging his own grave while Chloe is more interested in seeing how Lucifer will try to win her and not her ex-boyfriend Marcus. 

It is why this episode had me so captivated. Chloe gave Lucifer a chance after chance while not thinking about Marcus. In every point of the way, it was clear that her final decision would be made because of Lucifer, a bit like it was done in 3x18 - The Last Heartbreak. If Lucifer had stayed then Chloe would have never agreed to date Marcus. Now the same happens in 3x21.

At this point, some may say what the heck are you saying? Did we watch the same episode? Well yes, which brings us to the interrogation of Sterling, the victim’s lover. 

His words rang heavily on two sets of ears. Lucifer’s and Chloe’s. You don’t always get to pick who you fall in love with. 

Lucifer at that point he looks at Chloe perhaps half of his soul is in turmoil as he knows she loves Marcus and the other half is agonising on whether Chloe is indeed under his father’s influence.

For Chloe, there is no second wasted on Marcus. She looks backwards yet she never makes a move to actually meet Lucifer’s eyes. At this moment we know that Chloe is in love with Lucifer, not Marcus.  Her feelings gravitate her towards Lucifer and only Lucifer and it’s his refusal to open up to her that makes her walk away. So Marcus seems to be a rebound. Not what she wants or needs but what can provide her with some emotional relief. 

Part 2: The Dinner

The dinner between Chloe and Lucifer is one of the most painful things we watched in this episode. Note the song:  Out of darkness beauty grew

Chloe believes that Lucifer is going to finally admit his feelings. She does not expect a marriage proposal but she would have said yes to any form of relationship he suggested (well almost any). That’s where Lucifer makes the grand mistake, he brings his competition to Pierce up and here we see Chloe from 3x01, Chloe from 3x10... Chloe from 2x14. Broken and humiliated. 

Her words are simple but hold a lot of meaning. “Why are you doing this to me?”, a bit like in 3x12 - All About Her 

Chloe: But I want to make one thing clear: you can just stop with this selfless charade, because I am never going to help you with this investigation of yours. Lucifer: Oh, I don't need your help anymore. Chloe: Then why are you still here? Lucifer: Because this case matters to you. Therefore, it matters to me. We're we're partners, Detective.

In 3x12, Chloe was as broken as she was in 3x01 and then in 3x21. As we know from this episode she believes that Lucifer has commitment issues which she also believes Marcus has as well. So she waits or stalls. She could have gone straight to Marcus after that dinner but she went to her house instead. That alone speaks volumes, But let’s get back to the dinner...

The exchange between Lucifer and Chloe in this dinner gives us the depth of hurt, turmoil and ironically love, Chloe holds inside of her. The source of it all is Lucifer. 

Chloe: Why are you doing this to me? Lucifer: To prove to you that you shouldn't be with Pierce.  Chloe: [CRYING]: Why do you care who I'm with?  Lucifer: 'Cause he, he doesn't deserve you.  Chloe: [CRYING]: Then who does deserve me?  Lucifer: Someone. Someone Better.  Chloe: You can't have it both ways, Lucifer.

Chloe at this point cannot understand. She loves him, she has waited for him and now Lucifer treats her as a prize to be won in a competition. A game of power with her as the judge of who will eventually win. 

At this point, she makes all the questions which she has carried with her since S2 and it’s heartbreaking to watch. There is no resolution into this scene as you know but Lucifer’s failure to answer have sealed his deal although many more things were said afterwards as you know and I’ll analyse in the third part of this Meta post. 

Part 3: Why Miguel?

The murderer has finally be found but the writers have given us yet another opportunity for Lucifer and Chloe to talk once again but in front of a different audience. In this context, they try to understand and take certain decisions... Decisions which will affect not only the ending of 3x21 but also provide the resolution of 3x22 and perhaps even S3 as well. 

Chloe: Why didn't you just tell Amber how you feel? Tell her the truth? Miguel: Because I was afraid. Lucifer: Afraid she wouldn't love you back. Amber: But I do. I-I do have feelings for you, Lucifer: To think you could've had everything you wanted. All you needed to do was tell Amber how you felt, but you blew it. And so did I. Here Chloe has no other initiative to ask that question aside from that she expresses yet another question she perhaps always wanted to ask Lucifer. Chloe in 3x20 told Lucifer that: We *both* know that's not true, but what I want to know is why it bothers you so much.

In my opinion, Chloe knows that Lucifer has deep feelings for her and that he even loves her. I remember a marvellous movie called Unconditional Love in which the housewife says to the husband who wanted to divorce her and now who he wants her back:  “Max, I love you I always have but I never expected you to say it back. That wasn’t a condition because I was too afraid of the answer. Now it is a condition. I don’t want similar but different. I need different.” - Unconditional Love 2002. 

So like Kathy Bates, Chloe assumes she knows but right now for her Lucifer telling her how he feels about her is a condition she cannot ignore anymore. So she asks in a different way. Chloe does get a concealed answer from Lucifer’s response which troubles her further as she finally leaves the scene with a handcuffed Sterling. The problem yet remains. 

Despite Chloe’s realisation that Lucifer does love her, he has not said anything and she still needs to be loved openly. With no fear and yes with no conditions. So when Marcus comes at her place he offers her that. The ultimatum commitment. The one that cannot be broken easily. A marriage. 

Last part... 

So where do all the above leave us? Lucifer knows he has to confess his love and Chloe has just accepted an engagement ring. The problem here is that we know how the knot is tightened but we cannot untie it anymore... 

I guess the rest if I continue will no longer be a meta but a spoiler and speculation post about 3x22 - All Hands On Decker and I really do not want that. So please allow me to stop here with this meta. 

Please make sure to check the rest of the Lucifer 3x21 Meta Posts:

A: Giselle B: The Bleeding, The Dinner and Why Miguel? C: Lindaquake D: The Little Things

[jennycalendar]

very really married (4/?)

read it on ao3!

and now we begin to intersect with the canon timeline!!! dumb supernatural shenanigans abound.

The first day of school might not have gone as abysmally as it did had Giles not attempted to re-box the computer again while Jenny was asleep. He’d meant it as a Pointed Gesture regarding an argument they’d had the previous night, one about him not having a desk of his own (his words), and how he could get a desk of his own if he wanted one so badly (her words), and how he did have a desk, it was the desk her computer was on, and she shouldn’t be taking up his desk with her computer that he had never seen her use, and then this had transitioned into an argument about how if he didn’t sleep on the couch all the time, maybe he’d be seeing her use the computer more than he did, and Are You Trying to Seduce Me, Jenny, and NO I AM NOT, and then she’d brought out all the neon plates for dinner just to spite him.

Regardless. The point was that Giles attempted to re-box the computer, Jenny woke up, and they had a screaming argument at two in the morning about boundaries that led to neither of them getting any sleep for the first day of school. This did, however, have the unexpected benefit of both of them being too tired to argue in the morning, and that was definitely a plus.

But then Jenny started demanding to sleep in his office during her free period.

“Absolutely not,” said Giles, “I am going to be getting no sleep for this entire day, and it is wholly unfair that you expect privileges I cannot have.”

“Rupert,” said Jenny. “This is your fault. We are both exhausted because you tried to steal my computer.”

“Stealing,” said Giles with more dignity than he probably deserved, “implies that I re-boxed your computer with intent to utilize its monetary value. I didn’t. I was attempting to utilize my desk.”

“It’s not your desk if it’s not in your room—”

“It is my desk and it is my room, Jenny—”

“You haven’t slept in our bed since we got here!”

“Please stop calling it our bed, it’s disturbing,” said Giles, who was beginning to wonder if day drinking on a high school campus would be worth potentially losing his job over. As Jenny opened her mouth, “Yes, I know, we’re married, but that still doesn’t mean—”

“What it doesn’t mean,” said Jenny, “is that you can justify trying to remove my stuff from where I put it, without asking—”

The library doors swung open. “Let me just handle this,” said Giles.

“Cool!” said Jenny cheerfully, shoved him out of the office, and locked the door.

It took Giles a moment to realize what she had done. “Jenny?” he called, saw her beginning to settle herself for a nap in his office chair, and began to bang on the door. “JENNY CALENDAR,” he shouted, “I SWEAR ON SEVEN GENERATIONS OF GILESES THAT YOU WILL NOT GET A WINK OF SLEEP, AND IF THAT MEANS I HAVE TO KEEP YOU UP BY YELLING FOR A FULL FREE PERIOD—”

“Um,” said a voice. “Should I come back later?”

Giles turned. A small girl with gently curling blonde hair was looking at him with a vaguely unnerved expression. “No,” he said, by this point quite resigned to the fact that having a wife like Jenny apparently meant making himself look like a complete idiot to everyone in the vicinity. “I’m Mr. Giles. The librarian. New.” It was quite difficult to form words when he was this tired, but he was doing his best.

Behind him, the lock clicked open, and Jenny peered out. “Oh my god, there’s someone here,” she said, sounding utterly amused. “How much of your yelling did she catch?”

“Go take a nap in the bloody office,” said Giles thinly.

“Done,” said Jenny, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek, then stepped back into the office.

Giles tried not to blush. It didn’t work.

“O-kay,” said the girl. “Anyway, I’m new—”

Giles’s heart sank. “Miss Summers,” he said. The universe really did seem to have it out for him at this point. “Apologies for the display,” he added uncomfortably. “My wife was attempting to take a nap in my office, but that’s—against school rules, I think, so I told her no.”

“And then she went ahead and did it anyway?” said Miss Summers. Her mouth twitched.

“You know what?” said Giles. “Let me just—get you what you need.” He hurried behind the counter, and as he bent down, felt a bit solidly better upon seeing the Vampyr book. This, at least, would go sensibly and according to plan. She was a Slayer who had already had a Watcher, a Slayer who already knew her destiny; she, at least, knew the ropes. Lifting the book, he placed it down on the table with a heavy thud.

To his utter surprise, Miss Summers blanched, taking an almost involuntary step back from the checkout desk. “That’s not what I’m looking for,” she said, slow and uneasy.

Giles blinked, surprised and a bit exhausted. “Are you quite sure?” he said.

“Way sure,” said Miss Summers, which certainly wasn’t grammatically correct.

God, Giles missed England. “My mistake,” he said tiredly, turning to put the book away. As he finished placing it back on one of the lower shelves, he turned back, asking, “So, what is it you said—”

But Miss Summers had vanished, the library doors swinging shut behind her, and Giles was left with the distinct impression that absolutely nothing in his life was going to go the way he needed it to.

When Miss Summers returned, it was thankfully after Jenny had finally departed to teach class. Giles wasn’t sure what he would have done had his Slayer again witnessed his disaster of a fake marriage and perhaps put two and two together. He wanted to be an authority figure to this girl, someone she would respect and value and not unexpectedly leave the library around, and he couldn’t possibly do that if she knew he had gotten drunk married in Las Vegas. It was true that Giles hadn’t been around teenagers in a while, but he did know enough about them to know that they would undoubtedly find that sort of thing mercilessly funny.

“Okay,” she said, bursting into the library, “what’s the sitch?”

“I’m sorry?” said Giles, confused.

“The dead guy,” said Miss Summers, and then things proceeded to get even more complicated.

Giles left school intending to seek Miss Summers out at the Bronze as soon as possible; he’d heard her talking to someone else about it in passing. Unfortunately for his plans, Jenny was waiting outside the library when class finally wrapped, and he then remembered that they would be driving home together—not only that, but she had finally let him drive her. God, she did pick the worst of days to be magnanimous.“Let’s leave,” she said upon seeing him. “I have so much to complain to you about. That’s your husbandly requirement for the day: you have to listen to me complain about the idiot freshman who stuck gum between the keys of his computer, who does that? Not even you, and you’re a total Luddite. Germophobic Luddite, but still—”

“As usual, your presence is a breath of fresh air,” said Giles resignedly, extending his arm. Jenny, unbothered, took it, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Unfortunately, I have—pressing business of my own. I’ll have to drive you home and then head downtown.”

Jenny looked dubious. “You know they found a dead guy in a gym locker today, right?” she said. “This isn’t a good town to have after-dark business in.”

“Be that as it may—”

Jenny’s hand tightened around his arm. “I’m just saying,” she said. “I don’t think—oh, hi, Willow!”

A small, plaid-wearing girl with long red hair blinked shyly up at the both of them. Her face rang a bell with Giles, who realized that this was the same girl who had stopped in to read a few books during his lunch break. She had been so sweetly enthused at his extensive collection that he hadn’t been able to tell her the library was closed. “Ms. Calendar!” she said, sounding surprised. “And—Mr. Giles!”

“We were just on our way out,” said Jenny, giving Willow a warm smile. “Hey—amazing work in class today. I was blown away.”

“Thanks,” said Willow, blushing and beaming. Then, “Are you two the married couple on staff? Not that it’s any of my business,” she added hastily, “but people were talking about a really fighty couple on staff, and you two are looking all cuddly right there, and oh my gosh why am I still talking?”

“Yeah, that’s us,” said Jenny. “Old world austerity meets new world charm.”

“Thank you, Jenny,” said Giles. “That’s exactly what I needed at the end of the day. Being called austere by my own wife.”

“He’s very dramatic,” said Jenny to Willow, who giggled. “Listen, Willow, he’s talking about going out at night—is that something people usually do in Sunnydale?”

To Giles’s surprise, Willow’s small smile flickered. “The cool people, I guess,” she said, scuffing her sneakers against the linoleum. “I mean, Xander and I try it sometimes, but it’s mostly just—dark. And creepy. Plus my mom set a curfew after that one girl in my Biology class turned up dead last year.”

Jenny gave Giles a very pointed look. “See?” she said. “Willow’s a smart cookie. If you’re not gonna listen to me, at least listen to her.”

“This feels awfully like emotional blackmail,” said Giles. “Willow, it’s lovely to see you again, I hope you’ll stop by the library, I need to take my wife home before she interrogates the entire population in an attempt to—” He stopped, startled, as it finally clicked. “Keep me safe,” he said, his voice softening.

“Took you long enough,” said Jenny, rolling her eyes. “Come on.” Tugging on his arm, she led him past a giggling Willow. “Bye, Willow!” she called over her shoulder.

“Bye, Ms. Calendar!” Willow called back. “You guys are a super cute couple!” She then turned the approximate color of her hair and hid her face behind her open locker door.

“She’s a sweet kid,” said Jenny affectionately. “A little shy, but I really think she’s something special.”

“She’s in your computer class?” said Giles, carefully managing to open the door for Jenny without tugging his arm away from her hand. “She was in the library today.”

“Shockingly, Rupert, computers and books can coexist!” said Jenny, laughing.

“Yes, quite,” said Giles, who was still a bit stuck on the concept of Jenny trying to protect him. “Listen, Jenny—I do completely agree with you with regard to the dangers that surround going out at night, but the fact remains that I do have—business—to attend to.”

“Any chance that I’m gonna get to find out what that business is?” Jenny asked lightly.

“Perhaps not tonight, but—” Giles stopped himself. He hadn’t meant for there to be a but. “Perhaps not tonight,” he said again.

To her credit, Jenny seemed to take this in stride. “Okay,” she said. “Honestly, I have some stuff to get done at home anyway. Just try to get home before eleven, all right? It’d be nice not to worry.”

“You’d worry?”

“Maybe a little,” said Jenny, fumbling. “For Willow’s sake, at least. She seems to like you.”

“Oh, of course,” said Giles, grinning. “For Willow’s sake.”

“…shut up.”

He dropped her at their house, and she watched him drive off from the porch. She was impossibly stubborn, foolishly enamored with technological progress, but…he found himself thinking about her, at home, warm on the couch, working on whatever it was she was working on. Not at all domestic, he was sure. Probably unpacking the belongings of hers that he’d hidden in the closet just so she’d shut up about them, or perhaps rearranging the kitchen cupboards again so that her things were in easy reach and his things were all shoved into corner cabinets.

Making trouble. He liked that, and it was frustrating to like it. Giles continued to drive, weaving through what felt like endlessly labyrinthine suburbs until he finally reached the Bronze. By this point, it was nearly sunset, and he was finding himself wishing he’d stayed at home a bit longer to at least have dinner with Jenny—argumentative, certainly, but somehow much livelier a prospect than this overly loud dance club. Reluctantly, he exited the car, following a gaggle of students inside.

This place actually seemed rather like something Jenny would like. Weaving through dancing teenagers (teenagers, really, in a bar?), Giles decided that the best thing to do in this case would be to find a higher vantage point. Perhaps he might be able to make out Miss Summers from above the ground.

Part of him was beginning to wish he had brought Jenny. This entire endeavor felt rather pointless, and she might have made it…a bit more lively. They’d be arguing about something or other right about now, had she come along. Maybe she’d want him to dance, and he obviously wouldn’t, and she would persist, with that bright, playful, utterly beautiful smile—

Giles nearly walked into one of the large beams supporting the upper level. Flustered, he hurried up the stairs.

Miss Summers was not visible. No one in this bloody bar looked even slightly familiar to Giles, and he was becoming so impatient to leave it that he wasn’t really looking all that hard anyway. He’d talk to her at school, he decided, there really wasn’t any point in—

“So, you like to party with the students, huh?” came a familiarly perky voice, and Giles, already frustrated enough as it was,turned to face Buffy Summers herself. “Aren’t you a married man?”

“Believe you me, I would much rather be at home with my wife,” said Giles, startled by the truth to his words. “As exasperating as Jenny can be, she certainly isn’t as—as tiresome as this meaningless sound.”

“Gosh, I bet she swoons when you tell her stuff like that,” said Buffy, straight-faced with the air of one delivering a punch line.

“This is a perfect breeding ground for vampire activity,” Giles informed her, attempting to steer the subject solidly away from Jenny. “It's dark, it's crowded...” He trailed off, still frustrated beyond measure. “Besides, I knew you were likely to show up, and I have to make you understand—”

“That the Harvest is coming,” Buffy finished with exasperation. “I know, your friend told me.”

Giles blinked. This wasn’t in the handbook. “What did you say?”

“The Harvest,” said Buffy dismissively. “That mean something to you? 'Cause I'm drawing a blank.”

“I'm not sure,” said Giles, frowning. “W-who told you this?”

“This... guy,” said Buffy, turning a little pink. “Dark, gorgeous in an annoying sort of way. I figured you two were buds.”

“No,” said Giles slowly. The phrase rang a few bells, and none of them were good ones. “The Harvest. Did he say anything else?”

“Something about the Mouth of Hell,” said Buffy, then added for clarity’s sake, “I really didn't like him!” and turned away, looking down at the dancing crowd as the band’s song ended.

“I must research this further,” mumbled Giles to himself. Looking up at Buffy, her back to him, he felt a rush of irritation as he added, “Which I cannot do if the one and only Vampire Slayer is hell-bent on refusing to slay vampires!”

“Hey!” Buffy whirled, glaring. “It’s not like I’m never gonna slay a vampire again! I just don’t feel like getting all extracurricular about it. And I don’t see you out there fighting any!”

“We have discussed this,” said Giles, attempting to keep his voice level and professional, “it is not my—”

“Not your job, yeah, I figured,” said Buffy, rolling her eyes. “So is your job just telling me how to do mine?”

“Will you be ready?” Giles countered. “There's so much you don't know about them, about your own powers.” Pointedly, and because he felt like reminding her that he did have a job, he added, “A vampire appears to be completely normal until the feed is upon them. Only then do they reveal their true demonic visage.”

Buffy was not appropriately impressed. “You’re like a textbook with arms,” she scoffed. “I know this!”

“The point,” said Giles thinly, “is that you should be able to tell if a vampire is in this building. Immediately. Without looking, without thinking.”

“I mean,” said Buffy, looking somewhat pouty, “I could do that. If I wanted to.”

“Fine,” said Giles. “Excellent. Do it right now. Tell me if there’s a vampire here.” As Miss Summers turned her attention back to the crowd, he continued, “Reach out with your mind, utilize all your senses, and hone—”

“There’s one!” said Buffy.

“What?”

“That one,” said Buffy, pointing to a fellow below them in a garish shirt that Ethan would wear unapologetically. “Talking to that girl.”

“You don’t know—” Giles began, indignant.

“Oh, please!” Buffy was clearly affronted at his doubt. “Look at his shirt, he’s got the sleeves rolled up—just deal with that outfit for a moment.”

“It’s dated?” Giles asked tentatively. Lord, he felt old.

“It’s carbon dated,” Buffy informed him. “It’s 1996, who wears a jacket like that? No one but a guy living underground for ten years would think that that’s a good look.”

This was also not in the handbook. “But you didn’t—hone,” Giles managed weakly.

The fellow moved, revealing the lady who had had his attention. A girl, really, though Giles couldn’t quite make her out—

“Oh, no,” said Buffy, her face paling.

The spotlights caught the girl’s long red hair, and Giles remembered. “Isn’t that—”

“Willow,” said Buffy.

“What’s she doing?”

“Seizing the moment,” said Buffy, sounding all but furious with herself, and hurried past Giles, after Willow.

Giles knew that he should be counting this as a victory. It certainly wasn’t the way that he’d wanted Buffy to resume her duties, but if Willow’s peril provided the Slayer with an incentive, the Council would count that as a win. However, the thought of this careless, carefree girl tasked with saving the life of an innocent made him shudder, and he hoped that she lived up to her reputation. All Council reports had painted her as a talented, if rather insolent, young girl, one who had survived longer than most Slayer and even faced a master vampire. Still a bit nervous, he followed Buffy down the stairs, hoping against hope that she would round the corner with a nervous Willow in tow.

He was instead met with only Buffy. Willow, he assumed, must have remained at the bar. “That was quite quick,” he said, surprised and pleased. “Well done. I-I must be off to, to check in with my wife, and then—the library—”

“I lost them,” said Buffy shortly.

Giles reeled. “You lost them?” he echoed. “Well—we should—go find them, yes?”

“I’ll deal with it,” said Buffy, giving him a hard, tired look that didn’t look quite right on a girl that young. “I can handle one vampire.”

Jenny was sitting in the living room when he arrived. “Ten-thirty,” she said, and got up, tugging his overcoat from his shoulders to hang it on the nearby coat tree. “So you didn’t get dead and stuffed into a locker?”

“One dies, Jenny, one does not get dead,” said Giles, but found himself feeling surprisingly less upset. The genuine antipathy he had faced from Buffy made his arguments with Jenny seem much less bloodthirsty. “And I unfortunately am only stopping in to let you know I’m all right. I have some research to conduct at the library.”

“Oh,” said Jenny. Then, “I-I can help.”

This took Giles quite by surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“I haven’t been doing a lot,” said Jenny a little awkwardly. “You know, first day and all—I thought maybe you’d like a little company. It can’t be fun to be—”

“What, a textbook with arms?” said Giles stiffly.

Jenny snorted. “Did someone call you that?”

“…no,” Giles mumbled, trying to make it sound convincing.

Jenny was still giggling. “It’s okay,” she said. “If you need some alone time to recover after an emotional blow like that—”

Giles didn’t particularly like the idea of involving Jenny in Watcher business. Divulging Council secrets within the first official day of his sacred calling really wouldn’t do. “I might, yes,” he said, smiling a bit. “Thank you for being understanding about it.”

“Don’t stay out too long,” said Jenny, grinning. “I’m gonna try and make a pot roast.”

“Please don’t, the kitchen cannot take that stress,” said Giles, grinning back as he picked up his overcoat. “I’ll do my best to be back by—shall we say one?”

Jenny bit her lip, and her smile wavered. “If you die like that dead guy, I really will kill you,” she said.

“You’re not going to attempt to dissuade me from staying late?”

“We had that whole big argument already today,” said Jenny, waving a hand. “I’m trying to limit us to maybe two a day, and I want to be able to yell at you about coming home late, so I’m banking my frustration for the moment.”

“That’s terrifying,” Giles told her.

“I know,” said Jenny happily.

“Psychological warfare, in my opinion.”

“Which could make a case for me being a bit smarter than you think?” Jenny batted her lashes.

“Oh, please, it’s never been up for dispute that you’re dizzyingly intelligent,” scoffed Giles as he exited. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a small, surprised smile on Jenny’s face.

Researching was not lighthearted in the slightest. Researching actually led to Giles missing the days when a fake marriage and an incompatible partner were the worst of his troubles. His books described the Harvest as a preordained massacre, one in which the vampires rose up to create hell on earth and murder a terrifying number of people while doing it. Paging through book after book, he continued to find the exact same thing: that the Harvest would be soon, and that it would be a bloody, gory mess.

When he was quite sure that there was nothing else he could find, at least not today, he drove home, stumbling somewhat exhaustedly up the steps. The living room light was off, and he realized with a small, sad twist that Jenny must have already gone to bed. Flipping it on, he hung up his overcoat, then headed into the bedroom, intending to grab a set of pajamas from the dresser.

Jenny was asleep, curled up under some extremely comfortable-looking blankets, and after a night like this Giles honestly couldn’t remember why he wasn’t sleeping in a perfectly cozy, perfectly lovely bed. Pride, perhaps, but that didn’t really seem worth it when he was this tired and wrung-out. He changed gracelessly, then lay down next to her, getting under the covers.

Jenny stirred, then smiled, then moved a bit closer, resting her cheek on his shoulder. It wasn’t quite cuddling, but it was…nice. Particularly after the day he’d had. “You got back by one?” she asked sleepily.

“Twelve-fifteen,” said Giles.

“Mm,” said Jenny, and rolled back away from him, settling into her portion of the blankets. “Long day, huh?”

“The longest,” said Giles, and closed his eyes. Buffy Summers and the Harvest and their mystery informant were all rattling about in his mind, but lying in his bed was comforting and familiar—and lying next to Jenny, much the same. He liked being tired enough not to worry about what that might mean.

The next day was when things really started getting out of hand.

“Okay,” said Buffy, entering the library with both Willow and a dark-haired boy (the latter wearing a shirt that even Giles knew was truly horrible), “we’re gonna need to brief them on vampires.”

Giles stared. “You can’t be serious,” he said. “This is—these are incredibly secret matters, and you’ve just brought them in here to—”

“They almost got killed, Giles!” said Buffy indignantly. “It’s not like I’m just picking people at random to tell that vampires exist! That’s pretty much a one-way ticket to a mental institution—” She stopped, here, pressing her lips together, then continued, “—and you should know that I wouldn’t risk something like that. So. Just—do your whole big speech or whatever.”

“I’m still not sold on any of this,” said the boy uncomfortably.

“Yeah, well, I say we hear them out,” said Willow, her voice small and wobbly. “If they know anything about what might have happened to Jesse…”

The boy’s face clouded. “Okay,” he said, and pulled out a chair for Willow to sit. “Talk to us.”

Giles still wasn’t entirely convinced that he wanted to talk to a boy he had barely met about well-guarded Council secrets that he hadn’t even told his wife, but the pointed look from Buffy and the shaken look in Willow’s eyes made it clear that avoidance wasn’t an option at this juncture. “Well,” he said, ascending the library steps to idly stop the now-spinning globe on the stack level. “The world is—is older than you know—”

“Rupert!” Jenny rushed in, looking absolutely furious. “Jesse McNally didn’t show up to school today!”

Giles closed his eyes, hoping against hope that Jenny would be gone when he opened them. When he did, however, she just looked even more annoyed with him, arms crossed and chin jutting out. “And this has to do with me how?” he asked; perhaps she might take the hint and leave.

Jenny didn’t. “I was saying don’t go out last night,” she said, “I was telling you that it would be a bad idea—”

“I’m sorry, do I look like I mysteriously disappeared?” said Giles thinly. “No? Shocking.”

“—and you just go ahead with your little Bronzing escapade?” Jenny finished.

Giles stared. “How did you know I was at the Bronze?”

“That’s not important,” said Jenny. From behind her, Buffy winced a little. “My point is that Jesse McNally was last seen at the Bronze, and there’s already been one murder this week, and I am so not showing up at the morgue to collect your corpse when you lie to me about what you’re doing!”

“I said I had business!” Belatedly, Giles realized that they had an audience. “And—I’m working a study group right now, you are being horribly unprofessional—”

“I’m your wife,” said Jenny. “I get to be unprofessional.”

“Don’t play the wife card,” said Giles, hurrying down the stairs to steer her out of the library. “And don’t just come charging in here, Jenny, I am teaching.”

“Teaching what?” Jenny scoffed.

Irritated, and hoping to catch her off guard, Giles kissed her on the cheek. Jenny, without even a moment’s hesitation, turned her head, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth before pulling back. “Don’t try and beat me at my own game, honey,” she said matter-of-factly. Tugging herself free, she turned and left, adding over her shoulder, “Keeping you safe should not be so much work, Rupert, and I expect to know what you were doing at the Bronze!”

The door swung shut. Giles, who hadn’t missed Buffy’s telling wince, turned on her. “You told her?”

“I thought she knew!” Buffy said indignantly. “We ran into each other in the halls, she said she was sorry for how awful she was yesterday, I said it was fine, she was obviously tired, and with you keeping late nights at the Bronze—”

“Oh, lord,” Giles muttered. He had no idea how Jenny would take the concept of him sneaking out to a bar and not telling her why—a bar that teenagers frequented, no less. He really would have to explain…something…to her. Somehow.

“How come she doesn’t know you’re a Watcher?” There was a strange note to Buffy’s voice—almost overly light.

“To protect her,” said Giles simply. That was the sort of thing one said about one’s wife, wasn’t it? “It’s a bit tense between us as of late, but…she wouldn’t understand.”

Buffy was now looking at him with a different expression, one that was no longer outright animosity…almost sympathy, and with a dash of quiet respect mixed in. “Yeah,” she said. “Kinda feels like that when I’m talking to my mom.”

Giles then felt a strange sadness, looking at Buffy. The idea of sending this hard, hurting girl into battle wasn’t quite as easily imagined as the half-conceived idea of his future Slayer. “Well,” he said. “I’d best resume my, my explanations, then, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah,” said Buffy, and managed a tired smile.

“See, I feel like there’s this whole layer of information I’m missing,” said the boy, waving a hand between Giles and Buffy, “like what’s a Watcher? And is he seriously married to the hottest teacher on campus?”

“That’s my wife, yes,” said Giles shortly, feeling an irrational irritation, “and I would thank you to remember that she is much more than just a pretty face.” He cleared his throat. “The world is older than you know…”

And as such, Willow and the somewhat frustrating Xander were sent off to classes, Buffy set off to rescue Jesse McNally, and Giles was left to begin his own search for more information on the Harvest, which transitioned rather quickly into trying to figure out how, exactly, he was going to get his nighttime activities past Jenny without arousing suspicion. Framing it as business clearly wouldn’t work anymore, not when she already knew about the Bronze and how strange it was. She might believe his proclivity for research, but—

Wait.

Inspiration struck Giles, and he jumped up, all but running out of the library, across the hall, and towards Jenny’s classroom. He managed to skid to a dignified stop so as to walk inside in a more professional manner, but based on the small smirk on Jenny’s face, she’d heard the sound of hurried footsteps. “Jenny,” he began.

“Mr. Giles, we’re on the clock,” said Jenny, smiling innocently. “Let’s keep it professional.”

“For the love of god,” said Giles. “Would you please speak with me outside?”

“I don’t know,” said Jenny, wavering theatrically. Behind her, Willow was watching them both with amused interest. “I’ve got some pretty hardcore teacher stuff going on here.”

“I’m playing my—my husband card,” said Giles. “Please speak with me outside.”

Jenny rolled her eyes, but followed Giles out into the hallway, shutting the door behind them. “I’m assuming this is an apology?”

“Sort of,” said Giles. “Jenny…I wasn’t entirely honest about why I came to Sunnydale.”

“Oh?”

“I’m…conducting some research for a book I’m writing,” said Giles, struggling to make himself sound convincing. It was much easier to continue a lie of omission than come up with a completely new one. “About paranormal occurrences. I heard that the Bronze was a particularly shady place, a-and I was conducting some…research.”

“And you didn’t tell me this because?”

“I thought you’d think it was…silly?”

To his surprise, Jenny looked a little abashed. “Oh,” she said. “Um. I don’t, I don’t think that, Rupert. I actually think it’s kinda…nice.” She cleared her throat, flushing, then added, “Stupid, too, but that’s just because you’re putting yourself in danger.”

“Oh,” said Giles, who hadn’t had anyone worried about him (was that what this was?) since—well, he honestly didn’t know if anyone ever had been. Watchers were expected to lay down their lives for the cause; anyone and everyone who knew him had always known that he was signing himself up for a messy, painful death. It was strangely lovely to have someone in his life who didn’t. “You’re…very sweet to worry.”

He was expecting Jenny to deny it, but instead she smiled a little awkwardly and nodded. “I can understand if you’d like to be alone for your creepy research, but can you maybe pick safer places?” she asked tentatively. “Like, I don’t know, not the Bronze?”

“Not the Bronze,” Giles agreed wholeheartedly. “That place really is terrible. I have no intention of going there in the near future.”

“You know, I told Jenny I wouldn’t go to the Bronze,” said Giles exhaustedly, lightly touching the place where Darla’s nails had scratched his face. “Said it directly to her. I’m fairly certain she thinks I’m at that cemetery she suggested.”

“Don’t vampires rise in cemeteries?” asked Buffy a little skeptically.

“Oddly enough, the one she picked happened to be, um, sacred ground,” said Giles with a small frown. “Nothing supernatural there in the slightest. I’m sure it was just random, but…it’s still quite sweet of her to try and be of help.”

“Well, I’m feeling pretty okay,” said Willow decisively, sitting down on the edge of the empty stage. “We stopped the Harvest, saved Sunnydale…that feels pretty nice.”

“To say the least,” said Giles. “To be quite honest, I’d really just like to go home.”

“You and me both,” said Buffy, and gave him a small smile.