#I’m making them all Sunday so that way they’re ready for bright and early Monday Morning

[jumbledthemes]

Going to be going overboard as a host at the sign in day of my big event. I’m making Three baked goods and pre making a big carafe of coffee too. I cannot help it I love to make the fucked up hoops I’ve made people jump through bc of poor event management worth it.

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment. 

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly. 

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches. 

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.” 

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest. 

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement. 

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room. 

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up. 

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently. 

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric? 

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends. 

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back. 

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.” 

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school. 

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High. 

Cut all ties now. You have two days. 

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her. 

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.” 

“It’s none of your business, Zara.” 

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders. 

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym. 

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle. 

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left. 

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand. 

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to  catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning. 

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door. 

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

@immadatmostthings  @thaticecreambish  @hee-hee-haw  @dearnataliealoveletter  @wasteofspacze  @dcml04  @bbigbbrainn  @dirtydiavolo  @vanhakirja  @rinzyx05  @misselsbells06  @ialexabsuniverse  @im-a-depressed-gay  @energy-drinkk  @mothra-main  @i-need-hugs  @dragons-lurk-here  @katj733  @m4r-s  @vievi  @dykeragee  @waterstrawberry  @aplaintart  @kakamiissad  @myunfinishedsymphony  @nagitokinnieissad  @autumnpleaves  @justanothergirlwithdemons  @zachariethememerie  @moon-asia  @m0on-blue  @strawberrysodababy  @akikko-yataro  @haikkeiji  @shiningsunrises  @cinnamonmochi  @queen-turtle-boiii  @imanewsoul  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelicaschuyler-church  @vixenfoxpup  @ella-ivanov  @shio-yuki  @mosstea-png  @ijustshatbricks

[sunmoonandeddie]

saturdays

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,467

summary: Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

warnings: Some swearing

a/n:  This was my March 2020 one shot for my Patreon that they received early access to.  Let me know what y’all think!

Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

Sundays are for sleeping in before eventually making his way to Brooklyn, where he picks up three bouquets and an egg, bacon, and cheese breakfast sandwich from Sal’s bodega before going to the cemetery.  He sits against his sister’s tombstone—his parents’ to his right��and eats his late breakfast.  He sits and talks for a few hours before leaving the flowers on their graves.  He always has to have peonies, since those were Becca’s favorites.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are for training.  He wakes up at five in the morning to go running with Sam, something he thought would end when Steve went back to be with Peggy Carter.  But he wasn’t bitter.  No.

But which thing he wasn’t bitter about, he’d never tell.

Along with the run, he spends most of the day sparring and battling simulations in the gym.  He has short breaks for meals, but he pretty much is on go until after dinner, when he goes straight to bed.

But Fridays are his favorite.  Because he gets to sleep in until nine-thirty in the morning, which is a luxury he’s not used to.  Then Sam and him grab a late breakfast together before Bucky goes into the city for his therapy session.

And Bucky likes his therapist!  Which he was really, really surprised about!  But Marlene is good.  Marlene is good because she doesn’t placate him.  She calls him out on his shit, and pushes him forward.  Because if it had been up to him, he would’ve stopped seeing her after their third meeting, when she had him drawing with fucking crayons that snapped in his hand way too easily.  But it’s been over a year since he started seeing her, and even though he still has his bad days, his bad days now would’ve been his best days before.

“So, you think you’re finally ready to go through Rebecca’s things?” Marlene asks, looking at him with a peaceful expression.

“I don’t think so, I am,” he says firmly, feeling a rush of triumph as a smile spreads across her lips.  “It’s time, you know?”

She nods in understanding, humming.  “Do you have someone going with you?”

Usually, Sam would go with him for things like this, and just in general.  They were attached at the hip, especially after the whole Steve leaving thing.

Yeah, they were both hit pretty hard with that.

“Yes, but I…”  He sighs, rubbing his hands on his jeans.  “I think this is something I need to do alone.  At least, the going through her stuff part…  But he is going with me to move the stuff to the Tower.”

“Good, good,” she says, her brows slightly furrowed.  “And how are you feeling today about Steve leaving?”

Bucky lets out a huff of air, taking a moment to think about it.  “To be completely honest with you…  I’m kind of over it today.  I have other things to do and yeah, I would’ve liked him to be here for it, but that’s not how it is.  And him leaving is more about him than it is about me.”  He shrugs, his lips pressed into a thin line.  “Just because he decided to go back doesn’t mean he wanted to leave me.”

Marlene sets her clipboard to the side, a warm smile on her face.  “Well, Bucky, I think we’ll end today on that thought.”  She stands up, offering her hand for him to shake as she does everyday.  “You’ve done well today.  You should be proud of yourself.”

He leaves with a wave and a “See you next week!” as he always does.

He hadn’t known about the storage unit full of his sister’s stuff until about eight months ago, when he asked Maria Hill if there was anything left of hers.  He knew that SHIELD had been the ones to take control of her assets when she had no children, since she was the sister of a Howling Commando and the best friend of Captain America.

Becca had died in December of 2013.  He’d missed her by less than six months.

It was heartbreaking when he first found out, and still is, if he was being honest.  But at least he has her stuff to go through, even though he has no idea what all is going to be in the storage unit.  Stevie hadn’t had anything other than what the Smithsonian had snatched up.

The car ride to the storage facility is quiet, Sam at the wheel.  Bucky still hasn’t gotten his license, since he doesn’t see a point.  Why should he when there’s the subway and Uber and even just good old fashioned walking?  “You’ve gotta save the Earth, Sam,” he says when he really feels like irritating the other man.

“You sure you’re ready for this, man?” Sam asks as they stand in front of storage unit 429.

“Yeah,” Buck says, punching in the key code and lifting up the door.  “Yeah, I’m ready.”  He flips the light switch on the wall, and is shocked by just how much stuff there is.  There’s boxes upon boxes upon boxes.

Sam’s hands go to his hips as he looks at it, whistling.  “Alright.  Let’s get it loaded.”

It takes several hours and three trips to get everything from the storage unit to the Tower, and by the end of it, the both of them just collapse on the couch with a couple of beers and a pizza to share between them.

But Saturday morning comes bright and early, and even though it’s his only day out of the week where he has absolutely nothing to do, Bucky knows he has to start going through her things.

The first four boxes are just clothes.  Clothes upon clothes upon clothes.  He finds a baby blue dress that she used to wear for church, starched to perfection, and he holds it to his chest for a long time.  He cries then.

And he knows that the fact that she’s hoarded so many clothes has a lot to do from growing up during the Depression.  He still finds himself falling into old habits of checking the price of food, despite the fact that he never has to worry about money again with his Avengers salary and the backpay from being a POW.

He finds his parents’ wedding rings, and the string of pearls his ma wore for special occasions.

And then he finds an old shoe box, and when he opens it up, he finds letters.  Letters upon letters upon letters.  They’re in bundles, tied together with fraying ribbon.  The paper is yellowed and soft from being folded and unfolded so many times, and he can see the looping black letters that covered the pages.

He takes the ones that look the oldest and unties them, he takes the top one from the stack and sets the rest to the side, before carefully unfolding it.

“Ruthie,” he says quietly as he reads the name at the bottom, not even bothering to read it yet.  “Ruthie…”  His eyes pop open as he suddenly remembers, remembers receiving letters everyday from a girl in the Bronx.  They were never romantic, but it was nice being able to write to someone and not having to hide how bad it was, like he had to with his ma and Becca.  She even sent her picture once, so he could know who he was writing to.  “Ruthie!”

He spends the rest of the day reading the letters, and passes out sometime around four in the morning with his face on a letter.  He takes the letters with him to his family’s graves the next day, reading to them after he replaces the flowers.

It takes him two more days to finish reading all the letters, in between breaks while training and staying up until he absolutely can’t.

He cries a lot while he reads it.  He’s not afraid to admit that.  But it’s nice to remember that he had a friend to listen to him during one of the worst times of his life.

Bucky’s almost afraid to look her up, to find out if she was still alive, and if he could go see her, to thank her.  They wrote back and forth until the day he fell off the train, and he knows that had to be pretty jarring for her.

But then Sam finds out about the letters—it would be hard for him not to, considering that he was walking around with his nose in the letters for days—and it’s all over.

Turns out, she’s alive.  She’s alive, and she’s still in Queens.

He goes the next Saturday, taking his bike all the way to the other borough.  He looks a little intimidating and extremely different from how he looked back then, but he hopes she recognizes him.  He really, really hopes she recognizes him, because otherwise this’ll be real awkward.

He stands in front of the door for a long time, taking his hands in and out of his pockets about eight times before he finally reaches up and knocks.

And then the door opens, and there’s Ruthie.

Well, not Ruthie, though at first glance, you’re the perfect picture of her.  You’ve got her hair and her eyes, and the curve of her lips.  But the nose is different.

“Can I help you?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.  You’re wiping your hand on a hand towel, peering at him like you recognize him from somewhere but you don’t know where.

“Hi, uh,” he says slowly.  His throat is suddenly so dry that he can barely talk.  “I’m Bucky.  Bucky Barnes.  I was pen pals with—”

He’s cut off by Ruthie herself appearing in the doorway.  She’s much older—she is ninety-nine, after all—but it’s definitely her.  “Did you say Bucky Barnes?”  The little old lady’s eyes widened as she saw him, her hand over her heart.  “Oh, my stars, it’s really you.  I heard about what happened to you, and I…”  She shakes her head, clicking her tongue.  “Why, it almost gave me a heart attack, you know.”

“Little Ruthie Pratt from Queens,” he says, reaching in his pocket and holding up the letters.  “I found these while, uh, going through my sister’s stuff.”

“I still have mine!” Ruthie says, pulling him inside.

It’s nice and homey and everything that Bucky had thought it would be.  The front foyer is covered in photos, and there’s quite a few of you.  You’re clearly one of Ruthie’s pride and joys, if the sheer amount of them has anything to do about it.

“I used to read these to my grandbaby here,” Ruthie says as she comes back with an old oak jewelry box in hand.  “Anytime she stayed the night—her parents worked a lot when she was growing up—she always asked me to read her one of my ‘Bucky letters.’”

“Grandmama,” you say, cheeks flushing as you avoid his eyes.

“It was so cute!  She used to recite them word for word along with me!” Ruthie teases as they go to the living room.

It’s quaint, with soft pastel colors dominating the room.  He sits on a floral sofa that’s got a circle with dark hair on it, the marking of a furry friend’s favorite spot.  He watches as you move to the kitchen, grabbing a pitcher of what looks like tea and a few glasses.

You sit beside her with the ease of knowing that you belong here, pouring yourself a glass.  “Grandmama, do you want some tea?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she opens the box and looks for the oldest one.  “You keep that monstrosity away from me,” she says.  Seemingly remembering Bucky’s presence, she says, “My daughter’s husband is from Louisiana.  Ridiculous man got both her and my grandbaby addicted to that absolute sludge.”

The secret smile you give him as the two of you listen to her tirade about sweet tea makes him feel at ease, and sets the tone for the rest of the afternoon.

Things go on as normal, or as normal as they can.

And Marlene happens to think that all of this is absolutely fantastic for him.  She loves that he’s now spending time with Ruthie and you, reconnecting with his past while understanding that he doesn’t have to be the person he was in the letters.

He’s different.  He’s not the Bucky that Ruthie knew back then.

It’s an unusually warm day in November four months later when he takes you out for a coffee, just the two of you.  And it isn’t a date—really, it isn’t—but he finds himself wanting it to be about halfway through his second coffee.

And that’s why he starts talking about dating to Marlene, who had, quite frankly, been waiting for him to realize his feelings for a while.

“I think I’m in love with her,” he says as he storms into his therapy session, eyes wild and hair a disarray.  He’s clearly been worrying real hard about it.

Marlene looks up at him, peering over the silver rim of her glasses.  “Oh, really?” She says nonchalantly, as though she doesn’t have you in her notes about him.  “And why is that?”

Bucky can’t help the frown on his face as he realizes that she didn’t even ask who he was talking about, because she knew.  “I…  I don’t know,” he says, slumping into his usual chair.  “She makes me happy.  Happier than I’ve ever been.  And she always makes me laugh, even at the most inappropriate of times.”  His gaze softens the more he thinks about you.  “And she isn’t scared of me.  She doesn’t judge me.  She’s read about everything I did in the war, even before HYDRA, and she doesn’t care.”  His hands are sweating as he rubs them together.  “Actually, it’s not that she doesn’t care—she does care—but she cares because she… she loves me.”

You love him.  And sure, he knows that.  You’ve said that you love him multiple times, even if you only mean it as a friend way.

But the thought that he has someone who loves him that doesn’t have to is… groundbreaking.

“She loves me, and she wants me to be okay,” he says, looking up at Marlene then.

His therapist has a pleased look in her eyes, even if she won’t let it show with a smile.  “I think she’s good for you,” she says simply, her pen held loosely in her hand.  “Are you seeing her again soon?”

“I’m seeing her tomorrow night,” he says, his heart growing light.  “We’re grabbing a few drinks to celebrate her finally graduating from cosmetology school.”

It’s a big deal for you, completely something.  You’re smart, there’s no denying that, but when it comes to schooling…  You’d done well in high school, but college proved to be the bane of your existence.

You’d dropped out in the middle of your junior year, and that had been it.  You’d moved to Queens to live with Ruthie after, working various low level jobs and trying to find something that fit.

But you’d fit in at cosmetology school.  Hell, you excelled.  And you enjoyed it!  You enjoyed waking up in the morning and going to your classes!

You cried when you got your certificate, and it was now framed in Ruthie’s house until you start your first salon job in two weeks.

“Are you going to tell her about your feelings?” Marlene asks curiously.

Now that makes him pause.

“... Should I?” Bucky asks, feeling a wave of anxiety coming over him.  “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?  And she sees me as just a friend?”

“If she’s really your friend, she won’t abandon you just because you tell her you have romantic feelings for her.”

“You sure about that?”

Marlene fixes him with a look, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

He runs his tongue over his teeth.  “Fine.  You’re sure,” he says, slumping a little in his chair.  “Doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

She snorts, making a note on her pad.  “I never said it was going to be easy, Bucky.  Doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

The next night, he spends an hour and a half trying to decide what to wear.  “It shouldn’t be this hard,” he grumbles as he switches shirts for the forty-ninth time.  “It’s just drinks.”

Sam, however, is having a great time watching his new best friend freak out over seeing a girl for the first time.  “I mean, she already agreed to going out with your ugly mug, man.  It’s not gonna matter what you wear.”

And in some way, that helps.  A little.

But he does have to threaten Sam with bodily harm if he spies on his date that’s not really a date.

He almost boxes him the ear when he insists for the fourth time that it’s a date.

He shows up at your door with a bouquet of flowers from Sal’s bodega, the buttons of his dark blue henley left open, exposing a smattering of chest hair.

When you open the door, the air is knocked from his lungs.  You look absolutely radiant.  The light from the sinking sun is giving you a halo-like glow, and he’s sure, not for the first time, that you’re an actual angel.

“Hi,” you say, a flush on your cheeks as you see the flowers.  “Are those…  Are those for me?”

He nods dumbly, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.  “Y-Yes,” he says, pushing them into your arms.  “As a congrats.  For, you know, graduating.  And stuff.”

“Thank you,” you say as you take them, handing them to Ruthie.

She’s standing just inside the door, a giddy look on her face as she holds the flowers, watching you take the motorcycle helmet from his hands.  “Have her back by twelve!”

“Grandmama!”

“Fine!  Twelve-thirty!”

You’re clearly embarrassed by her antics as he helps you on behind him, guiding your arms around his waist.

“You ready?” He asks, his voice breathy.

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, wrapping your arms tighter around him as he starts the bike, taking off.

“She doesn’t actually mean that,” you say as he leads you into the tiny, out of the way bar.  You’re fixing your hair, trying your best to appear presentable.  “I’m grown, you know.  I don’t…  I don’t have a curfew.”

A slow smile spreads over his lips as he listens to you ramble.  “I know,” he says finally, figuring he should put you out of your misery.  “Ruthie does like to tease those she loves.”

The bar is quaint, clearly a local place that tourists haven’t invaded.  He leads you to a high table, calling out your order to the lone bartender.

“So, I—”

“I like you,” Bucky says, unintentionally cutting you off with a wince.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I really, really like you, and I really, really want this to be a date, but if you don’t feel the same way then I completely understand and we can just forget that I ever said anything and everything can just go back to normal and that might be the best thing because, quite frankly, I haven’t dated since the forties and I have no idea how dating is supposed to work nowadays, but I’d really like to try it with you but only if you—”

His rambling is cut off as you place your hand on his, intertwining your fingers.  “Okay,” you say, like it’s the easiest thing ever.  “It’s a date.”

He stares at you for an embarrassingly long time, his mouth dry.  “Uh…  What?” He says quietly.  His heart is pounding at an unnaturally fast pace, and he honestly thinks he might be on the verge of a heart attack.

“I like you, too,” you say, smiling at the bartender as he brings you over your drinks.  You look so beautiful, your eyes the brightest thing in the dim lighting of the bar.  “So this is a date.”

“Okay,” he breathes out, a wave of relief washing over him.  “It’s a date.”

He’s a little starstruck as you continue on with what you were going to say before, a pink blush dusting his cheeks.  Your hand stays in his for the rest of the night, occasionally giving a little squeeze as though you’re reminding him that you’re still there and you’re not going to disappear.

And it feels good.

And okay, Marlene may have been right.

And yeah, Fridays might be good.  But as he sits there with you until the late hours of the night, he’s sure: Saturdays are his new favorite day.  Because Saturdays brought him a new beginning when he wasn’t expecting it.

[respectablesentiment]

It’s Tuesday afternoon and like clockwork, Ellie Williams and Abigail Anderson are in the arcade. Every Tuesday and Thursday they arrive within minutes of Dina starting her shift. They don’t come on Mondays as Abby has swim practice, Wednesdays are out cause they both have soccer, and on Fridays Ellie has baseball. Week in and week out, they are here. Bickering and jeering at each other as they bounce between machines, hogging Street Fighter and stuffing ribbons of tickets into their bags. -- prompt: redemption, day 6 of elliedina week small town 90s AU one-shot, Dina works in an arcade and her best customers are Ellie and her meathead cousin

(day 1: ache) | (day 2: dawn) | (day 3: trouble) | (day 4: family) | (day 5: abandonment)

or you can read ‘crushes’ here if you prefer:

crushes 

It’s Tuesday afternoon and like clockwork, Ellie Williams and Abigail Anderson are in the arcade.

Every Tuesday and Thursday they arrive within minutes of Dina starting her shift. They don’t come on Mondays as Abby has swim practice, Wednesdays are out cause they both have soccer, and on Fridays Ellie has baseball.

Week in and week out, they are here. Bickering and jeering at each other as they bounce between machines, hogging Street Fighter and stuffing ribbons of tickets into their bags.

Dina reckons they’d come before school if they didn’t have track multiple times a week.

She doesn’t know how they do it, feeling mildly out of breath just rushing from school to her shift. But they’re gorgeous and sun kissed and athletic and it shows. Strong arms, built shoulders, trim waists, handsome and freckled and gay.

So gay.

She’s unsure if she’s ever seen Abby wearing sleeves outside of her soccer uniform, and every other shirt she owns looks as though she’s ripped the sleeves off haphazardly.

Ellie’s hair is shaggy, still lingering in the awkward stages of a mullet as it grows from a shorter cut, sticking out at old angles under a baseball cap and often half stuck in the collar of one of Ellie’s flannel shirts.

Dina loses too much time each week thinking about it. Ellie’s hair looks soft, her smile is lopsided, her voice scratchy and she just does it for Dina.

There’s something about Ellie that just works.

It’s always worked.

Dina had moved to Jackson when she was fifteen; she sat behind Ellie in math for two years and she barely learnt a thing. Awestruck and stupid at the slope of her neck and the flex of her arms.

She was better now, her tongue no longer heavy in her mouth and the urge to flee was long abandoned.

Dina had worked in the arcade for almost two years, since she was sixteen, and she’d spent many shifts sitting at the prize counter studying for exams, trying and struggling to learn what she’d missed in math that day.

“Hey Dina,” Ellie says warmly, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Hi Ellie,” Dina greets, wiping her face and hoping she wasn’t drooling as she forces a smile.

Their friendship was new and tentative. Dina still mildly nervous at times after crushing on Ellie from a distance all through middle school. She likes to believe at times that her crush was gone but over the last few months of short conversations, she knew she was slipping.

“Did you have a good day today?” Ellie asks easily.

“Yeah, it was alright,” Dina shrugs, fidgeting with her pen and looking down at her homework. “We got that history essay today though, so I think another wave of assignments is incoming.”

Ellie grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not looking forward to it,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck and Dina feels two years of her life peel away as she watches Ellie’s bicep bulge in the movement. “I’m not the best with writing.”

“I- I thought you wrote all the time?” Dina asks, swallowing thickly. “You’ve always got that notebook of yours out at lunch.”

Ellie’s cheeks turn a little pink and she glances away. “Don’t tell anyone,” Ellie says, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “But it’s all just song lyrics and bad poetry.”

Dina grins, butterflies almost violent in her stomach, her gaze lingering on the slight touch of hazel in Ellie’s green eyes.

“Essays on the other hand,” Ellie smiles crookedly. “Not my thing.”

Dina nods jerkily. “Yeah, yeah I get that.” She blinks, registering her words. “I mean- I’ll pick an essay over math any day but-” She shrugs. “Everyone is different.”

“I’d prefer math,” Ellie says, resting her hands on the counter. “It’s my favourite subject.”

“It’s my worst,” Dina admits.

“If you ever want to study together,” Ellie offers bashfully, waving a hand in the air. “Let me know?”

“I- yeah, yeah I will,” Dina says awkwardly, thinking about how entirely unhelpful that would be and how desperately she’d want that.

“Ellie!” Abby’s booming voice calls across the room. “You gettin’ change or what, dude?”

Ellie sighs. “I’m sorry about her,” she says, rolling her eyes. “She was dropped on her head as a baby.”

Dina laughs, holding out a hand to take some bills from Ellie. “It’s all good,” she smiles, opening the till. “She doesn’t really have an inside voice, does she?”

“Nup,” Ellie grins.

Dina exchanging the money without question, forty bucks in quarters is excessive but they both know it’s nothing new. Both Ellie and Abby worked weekends at their family business Miller Construction to fund it. Neither of the last names are Miller but Dina didn’t question it, always stuck on the image of Ellie in a toolbelt more than anything else. Sometimes they wrap up early on Sundays and come in covered in sawdust and sweat, ready to spend their entire pay and leave Dina breathless.

“We’re getting close,” Ellie says, looking up at the water gun on the top shelf behind Dina.

“I feel like you’d be a lot closer if you just bought one outright,” Dina says teasingly.

“We could never find a beauty like that in the wild,” Ellie says dramatically, accepting the rolls of quarters as Dina hands them over.

She’s not entirely wrong. Jackson was a small town and there certainly wasn’t another place around where they’d find it outside of actually driving to a city.

Dina doesn’t get the appeal, but she admires the dedication.

--

In the following weeks, Ellie and Abby start to come in on days after practice with wet hair and eager expressions.  

“We’re getting really close,” Ellie says again one Monday afternoon. The first time she’s shown up without Abby in tow. “Abby thinks we might hit it tonight,” she continues.

They’d been chatting for a handful of hours, Ellie had come up to get change and lingered to chat until she eventually just sat on the counter. The conversation was easy, Ellie’s smile was bright, and Dina didn’t want it to end.

So of course, Abby finally arrives.

She narrows her eyes questioningly when she sees Ellie at the counter and Ellie is almost immediately pink as she hops off the counter.

“How’d you go so far?” Abby asks.

“I, uh,” Ellie runs a hand through her hair sheepishly. “I haven’t started.”

“Dude,” Abby groans, punching Ellie in the shoulder. “Come on, get your head in the game!”

Ellie winces at the punch. “That was hard!” She protests as she shoves Abby. Abby grabs her and they begin to attempt to wrestle each other, their legs twisting as they both attempt the same move to trip the other over.

“Hey!” Dina yells incredulously. “No roughhousing!”

“Sorry, Dina,” Ellie apologises as they break apart, elbowing Abby when the other girl doesn’t speak.

“I’m sorry too,” Abby says lamely.

“Excuse my cousin,” Ellie says. “She doesn’t have any manners ’cause she was raised in a barn.”

“Hey!” Abby frowns. “That’s not true and we’re not cousins.”

“We are cousins,” Ellie says rolling her eyes.

“No, we’re not,” Abby protests.

“We are too!”  

“We are not,” Abby says exasperatedly. “You’re the adopted kid of my dad’s sister’s husband’s brother.”

“Exactly!” Ellie agrees brightly, turning back to Dina with a smile. “So, we’re cousins.”

Dina tries and fails to hide her laughter.

“Your aunt is my aunt but we’re not each other’s aunt’s children,” Abby tries to argue, looking mildly confused. “So we’re like distantly connected but not related and therefore not cousins.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Ellie says shaking her head. “If my dad is the brother of your aunt’s husband then we’re cousins.”

“We don’t share any grandparents though,” Abby says, scratching her head. “So, we can’t be cousins.”

“Dude, I’m adopted,” Ellie says with a laugh. “It makes no difference if I’m your aunt’s child or your dad’s brother-in-law’s brother’s child, because either way there’s no blood there.”

Abby frowns. “I don’t- I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I,” Dina interjects. “I don’t think I followed any of that.”

“Anyway,” Ellie says. “We’re cousins and we need some more quarters, please and thank you.”

“We just need 217 more tickets,” Abby says, looking up at the water gun.

Dina looks up at the water gun, dust settled on grey and purple body of it. “I don’t know if it’s worth the tickets,” she says apologetically, looking at the small sign reading ‘Redeem for 15,000’ in front of it. “I have no idea much money you’ve spent so far, but you’ve spent a lot.”

“It’s the 1996 CPS 2000 Mk 1 Super Soaker,” Abby says, as though it means something to Dina. “It’s priceless.”

“Is it?” Dina asks.

“It’s the first elastic pressure Super Soaker ever made,” Ellie adds.

The addition doesn’t clarify anything for Dina and her blank expression must tell them as much.

“It was discontinued last year for the 1998 CPS 2500,” Abby frowns. “The 2500 has an even smaller nozzle than the CPS 2000 Mk 2.”

“Is that- is that what this one is?” Dina asks.

“This is the first release,” Ellie says. “The Mk 2 has 25% less capacity cause they shortened the pressure gauge and most of them have a different pump with a visible pin…” Her voice trails off, seemingly a little embarrassed.

“The Mk2 and the 2500 are shit compared to this,” Abby says. “This is the most powerful Super Soaker ever produced, better than the 300!”

“Oh wow,” Dina says politely, trying to force enthusiasm into her voice.

“It’s got the best time, output and range,” Abby continues. “I heard that someone once shot a kid in the eye with one and it removed the eye.”

“I really really doubt that,” Dina says. “Regardless, when you do get it, please do not shoot each other in the face.”

“We won’t,” Ellie smiles.

“Redemption will never be as sweet,” Abby whispers to herself, still gazing up at the water gun.

--

They get it by the Thursday, lugging in several backpacks of tickets for Dina to look at.

“We’ve come for redemption,” Abby says in a gravelly voice, her expression only serious for a moment before it cracks and she’s grinning dopily.

Counting the tickets was a chore and Dina didn’t do it as closely as she probably should have, trusting Abby’s count considering how meticulously ordered and bound the tickets were in sets of 250.

When Dina finally hands it over, Abby hugs the gun tightly to her chest. Dina’s mildly concern that Abby might kiss it.

Ellie and Abby’s jaws drop when Dina takes another identical water gun out from under the counter and places it back on the top shelf.

“There’s another-” Ellie says, eyes wide.

“I want it,” Abby whispers.

“Abby, we can’t-” Ellie tries.

“I want it,” Abby says wistfully. “We can totally get it.”

“We cannot,” Ellie protests.

“Think of how powerful we’ll be,” Abby says, bouncing on her feet a little like she’s torn between running off to play with the water gun or to go back to one of the arcade machines.

“I just don’t get it,” Dina mutters to herself.

--

It takes a week until they show up again; she talks to Ellie at times at school, but they don’t share lunch period and it’s not the same.

Her shifts feel longer, the kids seem more annoying and her homework seems to make less sense.

Their arrival makes her disproportionately happy, beaming at them as they come over to the counter to make change.

“I see you still have both eyes, Abby,” Dina says almost affectionately. “Did it live up to all your hopes and dreams?”

“It really did,” Abby says giddily, her eyes sparkling. “We’re gonna get his brother now, I think.”

Dina grins. “By the way, we just got in Mortal Kombat 4.”

“Finally!” Abby yells, smacking the counter before stalking away.

“I like her,” Dina says to Ellie.

“She’s pretty great,” Ellie sighs. There’s a beat of silence before them before Ellie’s peers over the counter. “How’s your homework treating you?”

Dina groans.

“That bad?” Ellie asks, looking apologetic for asking.

“Math is just not my thing,” Dina says, dropping her face into her hands.

“Can I help?” Ellie asks earnestly.

--

It’s later that night when it happens.

They spend an hour looking through the work, Ellie sitting with Dina behind the counter as she works through a handful of example questions in a crooked handwriting.

And it slowly clicks.

Dina’s almost giddy with relief as she understands. “God, I’m so glad we’re friends now,” Dina says honestly.

“Me too,” Ellie smiles softly, her eyes crinkling.

“You know what’s funny?” Dina asks, unable to stop herself.

“What?”  

“It’s funny but I had a huge crush on you like two years ago,” she admits.

Ellie’s jaw drops. “Really?”

Dina nods sheepishly.

“Wait, really? Two years ago?” Ellie asks pressingly.

“Yeah,” Dina flushes.

Ellie swears, smacking the table in front of her and pacing in the small space.

“What?”

“I had a crush on you two years ago,” Ellie groans, rubbing her eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Dina curses, her head in her hands.

“I know,” Ellie sighs.

“Fuuuuck.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Dina asks, looking up to question Ellie.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ellie repeats anxiously.

They stare at each other almost angrily in their frustration, tense and regretful. Dina can’t blame her for not saying anything and she knows it.

Two years of what ifs between them.

“You good?”

They both startle, jumping in their skin to turn and find Abby on the other side of the counter, glancing between them and chewing gum lazily.

“She had a crush on me two years ago,” Ellie laments, the words rushing out all at once.

“Okay,” Abby says, blowing a bubble and popping it before continuing. “But like, she still likes you, so what’s the issue?”

Dina has never hated her more.

“I- Abby you-” Ellie stammers, looking angrily at Abby before turning to Dina. “I- I mean, do you?”

Dina swallows before nodding awkwardly.

Ellie looks elated, bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly with restless energy like Abby the week prior. “Do you, uh, do you wanna go on a-?” She clears her throat. “Can I take- Can I please take you on a date? Would you-”

Dina reaches out to stop her, taking Ellie’s hand gently in hers. “I would love to go on a date with you,” she says sincerely, her cheeks are burning, and she knows she’s probably blushing just as much as Ellie.

They smile at each other eagerly, thrumming with excitement and giddy with affection.

“So like,” Abby interrupts. “Can I get some more quarters, though?”

 (Ellie has baseball practice after school the next day. Dina has the night off work, so she sits in the stands, her homework open and ignored in her lap. They go to a diner for burgers and fries afterwards, holding hands across the table, and they have their first kiss that night at Dina’s front door.)

:)

[lovelylunarwriting]

Yangyang Prince!AU

Yangyang’s known around the kingdom as less of a prince and more of “the king and queen’s child”

He’s just not the princely type??? He 10/10 looks like a prince and -33/10 acts like one

While some royalty just have that "aura” about them,,,, Yangyang does not

But that’s not a bad thing! He’s incredibly approachable as a person

Not a soul would dare to address him as anything but “Prince”, though, for fear of him overhearing and being like “excuse me what the fuck did you call me”

While the country itself adores the prince and his natural personality, the king and queen take issue with his “lack of royal precedent” and hold him to a ridiculously high standard.

He doesn’t seem to let this dampen his spirit, though. Whenever local newspapers ask him about it, he always says “I’m firstborn and in line to the throne. There’s not much they can do about it regardless if I keep filling the courtyard fountains with soap so that they bubble. Who doesn’t like bubbles?”

Deep down though it takes more of a toll on him. In his eyes, it’s like his parents are saying he isn’t good enough to be king one day.

The reality is that they’re just worried that being in charge of the nation will stress him out like it has them, and they want to prepare him the best they can.

To prepare him for his eventual role, they send Yangyang into the nearby villages to meet with traders from other nations who want to open up shop in the many marketplaces.

Yangyang’s nation is known for their vast and varying markets because they’ll let just about anyone open a business as long as a member of the royal family approves it.

They go about doing this in two ways:

One, they can request an audience with the king and queen and they’ll write up a contract. The king is pretty much there for show, the queen is really the one who’s built this trade empire.

Or, two, if the person is in a rush they can schedule to meet with Prince Yangyang in town and plead their case to him. If he thinks it’s an extenuating circumstance, they essentially get a “Prince Fast-Pass” and receive an immediate audience with the king and queen. 

For example, he had one woman who was a refugee from a war-torn nation across the continent and she came to their country to open up a shop to provide for her and her four kids. Yangyang was like “that sucks, I’m sorry. Do you wanna talk to my mom about it?” and personally escorted her to the palace.

You have been in this market for a  h o t minute though. You got your audience with the king and queen when you were like,,,, twelve?? And you’ve been selling your family’s farms produce ever since.

One of your parents would’ve gone to the audience but there was a Very Serious Ladybug Problem going on with the tomatoes so they sent you instead (the queen was surprised but you presented a fair argument for the business,,,, she had no reason to say no)

So you set up your market every week, Monday through Friday. The weekends are for helping around at home (and sleeping off the work week, of course)

This season’s harvest hasn’t been nearly as plentiful as the previous. It’s not that there’s a shortage necessarily, just that the last season’s harvest was abnormally abundant. 

Which of course means you’ll have to sell pretty much all of it to get a similar profit to last year while keeping the same standard prices (raising the prices wouldn’t be fair to your loyal customers)

“Guess there goes my Saturdays, then…”, you mumble to yourself, deciding to open up the extra day in order to sell every single tomato, carrot, and head of lettuce even if it kills you.

The first Saturday of the season comes and goes with no trouble, and so does the next.

But the third week. That’s when you notice him.

The pickpocket in the bright yellow shoes.

He weaves his way through the crowd with elegance and ease, reaching out here and there, plucking items from stalls, pockets, and displays,  slowly putting them in his pockets.

You find yourself entranced, staring at him slip through stall after stall.

That is until he steps up to yours.

He glances up, making eye contact with you, and flinches.

Apparently your glare was most apparent than you’d intended.

You don’t say anything though and neither does he. He just smirks at you and makes his way to the next stall.

Your eyes follow him and you see him swipe a pair of earrings off the man’s table to your left.

You might’ve said something but:

1.) That particular jeweler is a creep to the women in town so he deserves to be robbed in your opinion, and 

2.) If you snitch on some thief, that only makes you a target to whoever the thief is associated with. You don’t know if he’s got some thuggish friends and you’re not looking for a fight.

That is unless he decides to try and steal from you. Then he better be as good as fighting as he is pickpocketing.

After this initial encounter, you honestly forget about him.

That is until a few months later, when you spot a flash of bright yellow in the massive crowd on another Saturday morning rush.

You fumble to make change for the person buying three dozen heads of lettuce, trying to find his distinctly soft face in the sea of people.

At first you think you’ve lost him, until the lady buying out all your lettuce moves one of her bags and you see him snatch an apple from the barrel in front of your table.

Blinding hot rage sparks its way down your neck and shoulders, and without even thinking you shove the change into the woman’s hands and slide over the table.

The crook looks behind him just in time for you to grab him by the collar and drag him into the nearest alley.

The shock in his eyes is clear and although he tries to fight back, he can’t break your hold.

You shove him up against the brick wall of the alley and ask him one very important question.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

He kind of just makes a weird gurgling sound though because your knuckles are pressing into his trachea.

You loosen your grip a little and look at him expectantly.

“I’m the Prince-”, he starts, but you cut him off because listen you might not be rich but you’re not stupid.

“Bullshit. And you can keep that apple, but you better hope I never catch you stealing from me again”, you say, throwing him by the front of his shirt even further into the alley and storming back to your booth.

Once you gather your bearings, you think about the encounter.

You can’t pinpoint what it is that pisses you off so much about this guy in particular. There’s always been thieves in the market, it’s practically part of the system at this point.

But there’s always been one thing about the thieves that made you understand in a way, why they steal.

They almost always steal food and it’s because they need it. For themselves and probably their families. And you can’t find it in yourself to fault them for that.

But this bright-shoed bandit? He looks like he’s never missed a meal in his life. He’s got full cheeks, tan skin, toned muscles, and is missing that look of sheer desperation that’s in the eyes of all the thieves you’ve encountered thus far.

The only thing in this boy’s eyes is arrogance. And something else you can’t quite identify yet.

Sunday passes and you try to relax, but remembering that encounter just irks you.

Mom: “Y/N,,,, what are you doing”

You: “I’M GONNA GO PLOW THE FIELDS”

Mom: “Why would you do that by hand?? We have an ox for that??”

You: “Because I’m pissED oFF okaY”

It’s not until Monday that you hear the townspeople gossip like crazy about something that happened at the Sunday Market.

Even the vendors are talking about it instead of the usual small talk with customers.

“Did you hear? The prince rode into the marketplace on horseback yesterday”

“Hear? I was there! He made such a big scene!”

“Apparently he was looking for someone but he didn’t even know their name”

“Typical Prince Yangyang- he’s always up to something crazy. He’s such a lovely sight though~”

This goes on for hours and towards the end of the day you swear if you hear one more thing about “PriNcE YaNgyaNg anD hiS goRgEous faCe” or “PrinCe YanGyaNg aNd hiS sTeaMy mUScleS”, you might actually just close up shop and leave early.

At first it was interesting, but everyone’s repeating the same thing for h o u r s

Except for the man you’re currently selling tomatoes to.

“Yeah it wasn’t hard tah miss him with those bright ass shoes ah his”

Your whole body jolts and you drop the change the man just set in your hand.

Apologizing, you scramble to pick it all up and drop the coins on the table.

“What do you mean ‘bright ass shoes’, sir?”, you ask, your demeanor becoming physically tense.

“You know the kid loves collecting those new kinds ah shoes, right? ‘Sneakers’ or whaddeva ya call em? They’re all the rage in the next kingdom ovah, he musta gotten em imported from there-”, the man drones on and on, whilst you continue to panic.

“Sir please, what color were they?”

“Oh they were yellow like you wouldn’t believe! Brighter than the sun itself, and- hey! Where are you going?”

You hand the man his bag of tomatoes, grab what little produce is left and close down shop. If the prince comes back again today he could have you thrown in jail for treason for the way you spoke to him.

Everything's in the horse-drawn cart and you’re pretty much ready to go until you remember you left the change on the table.

Cursing to yourself, you abandon the cart for a brief moment and rush back to grab the money, but right as you reach for it, someone grabs your wrist.

Without thinking, you twist their arm around and pin them face first into the table.

Some of the coins fall off from the sudden impact and as your eyes follow them down…. you notice the man’s yellow shoes.

You quickly release him,,,, this thief,,,, the prince

As he slowly turns around, you contemplate whether you should request execution by hanging or guillotine….

But when he sees that it’s you, he just starts laughing.

Not like a maniacal “aha I’ve got you noW peasaNT” kind of laugh like you’d expect though. A genuine laugh from this boy.

From this p r i n c e

All instincts are telling you to bolt and just move to a different marketplace but,,,, you wanna know what this guy’s deal is.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you talk to him.

“Your Royal Highness”, you say in a sarcastic tone.

“Ah, so you believe me now? What’s changed?”, he asks and his voice sounds like honey. For some reason you’d expected him to be harsher.

“Your prance around town yesterday has been all anyone’s talking about today, Prince of Thieves”, you explain with disinterest dripping from your mouth.

“Prince of Thieves? I am prince of this nation, I’ll have you know”, he says and there’s that look in his eyes again that you can’t quite pin down.

“Then act like it”, you say with a certain degree of malice, and storm off to your horse and cart, leaving the money behind. It’s not worth it to grab it.

His eyes widen and he just stands there for a moment before chasing after you.

“Just- wait a minute!”, he shouts, running up behind you and putting a hand on your shoulder.

You grab his wrist, pulling him forward onto your back, and then flip him over onto the ground.

Once he’s down, you pin him down with your hands on his wrists and a knee on either side of his hips.

“I don’t care that you’re the prince. Your title means nothing to me. I care that you’re a thief. You steal from people who actually need money to live, and why? For the thrill of it? Grow up. If you want people to call you Prince then you better start acting like one”, you lay into him, letting all your frustration with him out at once.

You expect him to get angry with you. Maybe even yell. But he just looks,,,, sad. A little defeated, if anything.

“That’s not why I came here”

“You’re right, let me get off you so you can go pickpocket my customers”, you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off your pant legs.

“No, I came here looking for you. That’s why I came here yesterday, too”, he says, getting up and stepping between you and your horse. “Please, I need your help”

You take a deep breath in and out.

“My help with what exactly?”

“You fight like no one I’ve ever seen before. I need you to teach me”, he explains.

“Isn’t that what you have the knights for?”, you ask.

“They go easy on me. They’re worried if they hurt me while practicing, they’ll be fired by my mom”

“I don’t see why they’re concerned about hitting you in the face. It’s practically all I can think about right now”, you say nonchalantly.

“Wow okay- I could’ve gone without knowing that. But what do you say? Will you teach me? You’ve already showed me like three moves, just,,,, not on purpose I guess”

And for some reason,,,,, maybe because you’re lowkey worried he’ll actually have you hanged,,,,, you say yes.

You tell him it’ll have to be on Sundays and that he’ll have to come down to the family farm because “there’s no way in hell I’ll fight you that close to the queen’s wrath”

When you meet with him that Sunday though, he’s actually,,, quite charming??? And very polite to your parents, who were extremely surprised to see the prince on their front step (you might’ve forgotten to tell them about it)

This begins a routine of Prince Yangyang dragging you out of bed at dawn to spar with him in the barn out back behind your house.

The first few times he’d leave in the afternoon saying he “didn’t want to take up too much of your time”

But every time he leaves,,,, you find yourself missing his company.

Listen, he was an ass at first and he’s still an ass but it’s growing on you.

So one day, you ask him if he’d want to stay for dinner. And to your own shock, he immediately agrees.

He banters back and forth with you, makes jokes with your dad, and flatters your mom.

He’s got all of you around his finger and he’s not even trying to. He’s just being himself.

Now every Sunday he still wakes you up at dawn, much to your dismay, but he stays the whole day instead.

You spend the day together sparring, trying to knock each other into the pond, having lighthearted conversations, and getting the produce ready to go to market the next day.

To you, he stopped feeling like a prince a while ago honestly he never felt like a prince to start with but still

He’s your friend Yangyang that you throw into hay bales while teaching him self defense

One of those nights, the two of you are laying on the roof of the barn looking at the stars, when he says that he’d better head back to the castle.

“Can I ask you a question first?”, you ask, sitting up to face him.

“You technically just did”

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean”

“Hit me with it”, he says, closing his eyes and tilting his head back towards the speckled sky.

“Why do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Why do you steal from the marketplace?”, you finally ask, after silently wondering for months at this point.

“I don’t anymore”, he answers somewhat defensively, opening his eyes to look at you.

“Okay, then why did you?”

“...”

“...you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want….”, you say somewhat resigned.

Over the past month or so, things between the two of you has felt,,,, different.

You’ve been closer than ever, and talk to each other like you’ve known each other for years.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t falling for him.

But it feels like he’s got a barrier built up between him and the world.

Everything fiber of your being aches to shatter it. For him to feel like he can trust you, even if he can’t trust anyone else.To be special to him the way he’s special to you.

“I needed to do something to break out”, he says after some silence.

“Break out of what?”, you ask, trying to be gentle.

“Out of the box my parents are desperately trying to cram me into. I know they want what’s best for me and the country but,,,, it’s just so much pressure. I needed to do something else- anything else, even if it was stupid”

You scoot over to him and he sits up. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself closer to him.

At first he just sits there, stunned, but then tightly returns the embrace and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

The two of you stay like that for who knows how long, with him getting everything off his chest and you quietly listening and running your fingers through his hair.

From that night onward, the two of you are practically inseparable. 

Neither of you have said that you’re an item,,, and for a while you were like “am I making this shit up or does he like me”.

But one day, he’s sitting behind your booth in the marketplace (like he usually is. You’d think as a prince he’d have more to do,,,), eating all of your apples, when he taps you on the shoulder.

“I’m in the middle of a sale”, you snap, and turn back around to the customer.

When you finish, you turn around and he hands you an apple that is just,,, seeping with juice.

“Yangyang,,, w h y”

“Flip it over!”

So you do, and he’s carved “for my beautiful s/o~” into the side of the apple.

You can’t help but smile at his literally sweet gesture.

But you also can’t help but make direct eye contact with him and bite straight into the carved part of the apple.

The look of horror on his face made your day.

He’s got a habit of making your day everyday, though.

[queerchoicesblog]

La Vie Bohème

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in the City of Lights - & Love - at the time of the Belle Epoque, at the turn of the century.

The story of Élodie and Léa continues: what’s next?

Next chapter out on Monday, I think!

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions to homophobia, reference to sexual activity (if you are a minor or it bothers you in any way, you have been warned)

Tagging: @scottishqueer​

Previous chapters: Paris, Paris ; One Night At The Moulin Rouge , The Handkerchief, The Cage of Fools

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

_______________________________

The following day I wake up late, around lunchtime. My roommates are all out: Marie left me a note saying she's out for a walk with Alain. Poor Marie, what a concerned look she gave me last night when she saw me sneaking inside our room without my coat! I had to craft a wild story to justify my attire and being so late. I can only hope she believed me...at least, she didn't ask too many questions. I head to the kitchen and warm up the stew leftover my friend saved for me. The events of the night are blurred, they waltz together in a haze: the Moulin Rouge, the Cage of Fools and the jigs I danced with Élodie, her perfume, her laughter, the violet a gallant admirer sent me, then the gendarmes, the clash of their batons, our mad run. The sad look on Élodie's face, the little kiss she pressed on my knuckles parting.

I wash myself and head out for a walk too, wrapping myself in the only other coat I have, much lighter than the lost one. My neighbourhood is certainly not renewed for attractions but it's Sunday and everyone is out to enjoy their day off. Some kids almost collide with me while chasing each other while an old lady nearby invites every passerby to try her apple tart, cheap and decadent, she repeats. Last night was the wildest night I've ever had in my whole life. After the initial embarrassment, I felt incredidibly...happy. I felt like floating on air when Élodie spun me in her arms or when we had a toast at our new friendship. Why did it end so soon? Who called the gendarmes and why they wanted to arrest those people who were just having fun? I don't get it...people crossdress every day now on the stages of cabaret theatres and no one ever complains. Their acts receive thunderous applauses and some artists have adoring fans every night. Why is it so different to call for a mass arrest? The men and women at the Cage of Fools were just doing what popular crossdress artists do: singing, dancing, making sure everybody was merry and bright. Was it because of the two men kissing a few tables away from where we sat? Nobody cared there, I didn't care, honestly. But now that I think of it, that might be the cause. Crossdressing performers never kiss each other on stage. I walk up to a hill into a second hand marketplace, hoping to find a replacement for my old coat I can afford. Could it be that my friend Élodie is a...how do they call them? A sapphic? I heard the word for the first time when I worked as a maid at the uncle Yves' client house. Madame pronounced it with ill grace, speaking of one of their acquaintances while I served breakfast. When I went back to the kitchen, I asked the cook the meaning of the unknown word, that I assumed a fancy insult: my masters wanted to play the role of the rich and the rich don't share the same language with us commoners. They invent new words, more fitted to their uptown world, not tainted with the smell of the street. The lady got all red and threw me a cloth, scolding me for eavesdropping a conversation and warning me to mind my own business. Needless to say my curiosity ran wild and I finally got an answer a few days later when I asked to the maid of a visiting guest. Could it be? The following week is pretty eventful: an important commission and Marie receiving a letter from home, urging her to go back to Aergenteuil to help assisting a sick relative. They would have never asked, knowing all the trouble that would cause her, if they could have done otherwise, her parents wrote. Marie is very close to that aunt and she sobbed in my arms at the thought of losing her and the job all at once. It took time to me and our roommates to comfort her. I told her that she didn't have to worry about the job: we will talk to the girls tomorrow and we will cover for her during her absence. If most agree to help, it will only mean a few extra hours each. Luckily, Marie is well loved at work so things run relatively smoothly, despite the boss' evident contempt. She profuses in an endless series of thank you and praises when I walk her to the carriage station at dawn before heading straight to work. We hug and I give her a tiny slice of that cheap and decadent apple tart the old lady sells at the crossroad. A little treat for the journey home, the only one I can afford. "You're a true friend, Léa. I will never forget this" she says, eyes veiled with tears before taking her seat on board. As the carriage disappears from view, I realise it's the first time we are separated from each other since we first met. Predictably, I end up missing her: we've been around each other for so long that now not walking back home with her, working side by side and sharing lunch on the staircase makes me feel a bit empty, as if a part was missing. Marcel and Alain are busy with work too as festivities approach fast and I have my fair share of Marie's work to worry about. However, from time to time, when I'm not so tired I only want to touch the bed, I pay a visit to the Moulin Rouge. The first time Élodie spots me, she runs straight into my arms, hugging me tightly: she must have thought she would never see me again after our misadventure with the gendarmes. She lets me assist to the acts backstage and I get to befriend other dancers, now used to see me around. I even fix their costumes if they get damaged during the performance. I do it gladly, even if it adds up to my daily amount of work. I usually gets cheek kisses or champagne as payment but sometimes, despite my deflections, they drop some coins into my hand, arguing that the Moulin Rouge tailor is half as good as me. When it happens, instead of saving them, I go buy a dinner at a bistro nearby with Élodie. I'm always starving but she never makes jokes of me for that. I tell her about Marie and the extra hours and, in return, she pretends not to be so hungry and offers me her slices of bread or some mashed potatoes "she won't eat anyway". We talk for hours, until I can keep my eyelids open. We start seeing each other more often. I must admit it's relatively easier now that I don't have to worry about bothering Marie and my friends are busy. Only my roommates look at me differently: I'm positive they suspect I have a secret lover. Now my day off is split between a little work at home in the morning and Élodie. We stroll down the Tuileries Gardens, arm in arm to protect each other against the cold. Élodie loves this place: she doesn't care it's overly popular, to her it's a testament to the the beautiful things people can create, an urban Eden. Who am I to contradict her? The Palace in the distance, the trees, the quiet murmur of the Seine nearby...it's rather gorgeous. One day we bump into a couple of her friends of the Cage of Fools. I could barely recognise gracious Pierrette in her male clothes. She goes by Pierre during the day. "Amélie" the other woman says, offering a hand to shake and I recognise one of Élodie's friends who were playing cards. "We've already met but I don't think I properly introduced myself". I assure her that I remember her. Then, lowering my voice as if I don't know if I can speak freely about it, I ask them about the fate of the Cage. Pierre/Pierrette frowns, she's one of the owners and had a hard time being released by the gendarmes after the arrest. The bar and ballroom is still closed, the authorities denies a reopening. They're planning a night incursion to retrieve all the lost goods, if there's any left. But so far it's hard to tell what will be of the Cage. Then, noticing my sullen expression, she adds: "It will open up again, darling. It's Paris, Pigalle: places like this always rise from their own ashes. We just don't know when and how" We all share a weak smile. The silence is broken by Élodie. "I was thinking of throwing a little party at my place to cheer up the mood" "At your place? But how?" Amélie inquiries, skeptic but intrigued. "A roof party, so there will be space for anyone. We can lit some fires to keep warm. You're all invited and I will ask some girls at the Moulin. A little feast to forget about our sorrows" True to her word, the next week, when I receive a letter from Marie informing me of her upcoming return, she proudly announces me that the party is happening: it's on Saturday night after the act at the Moulin. "Will you be there?" she asks, taking my hand into hers. The sudden gesture draws a smile on my face. We now seat together in bars and bistros very different from the Cage of Fools and I've come to miss casual touches like this. We've been very careful since that raid, especially Élodie. "Of course, I will" I nod over a steamy bowl of soup. She claps her hands excitedly, flashing me a bright smile before scribbling down an address on a scrap of paper she retrieved God knows where. Then she hands it to me. "Don't be late, I'll be waiting for you" Her words colour my cheeks rosy, the warmth in her voice unmistakable. Unsurprisingly, she lives in Monmarte, the artist neighbourhood. I arrive early, afraid to be late. I ate my dinner with great haste once back from work and spent a whole hour getting ready, a detail that -I do not doubt it- cemented my roommates' theory of the secret affair. I washed myself, did my hair up just like Marie taught me, and put on my best dress, which is nothing fancy but I am quite fond of the colour and its lacy sleeves. Once I put kohl on my eyes and some rouge on my lips, I head off into the night. When I finally arrive, I spot some familiar faces in front of the building: Léa's friends. I wave at them and they greet me with affability as if we've known each other for a while. "Good evening, Léa. You're radiant tonight" Pierrette says, kissing both my cheeks. I'm glad to see her back in her female clothes, she even placed a flower in her hair for the occasion. "Élodie hasn't arrived yet, she and the girls must be on their way" Amélie informs me, rubbing her hands. I say that it's fine especially if you're in good company. We chat, hugging ourselves and I discover that they all works as secretaries, bar Pierrette who is "an unsuspecting accountant by day, the best bartender in town by night". Just then, a cheerful choir of voices resounds in the street, approaching. We turn and it's the dancers of the Moulin Rouge. They cheer and wave at us, swaying bottles of wine and champagne raided from the theatre. After a quick round of kisses and loud greetings, we all run up the stairs before catching a cold. Élodie's apartment is messy and rather small for the number of guests attending the party so we quickly take the stairs and head to the roof. The sight is gorgeous: as the others light a couple of fires and one of the dancers harmonises an accordion, I take a moment to admire it. From the top of the hill, Paris lays beneath us like an ocean of light and chimney smoke. An intoxicating combination of misery and beauty I have never seen before. Someone taps my shoulder and I turn to see Carmine, one of Élodie's colleagues, handing me a glass of wine. It's stronger than I expect but I keep sipping it as we chat, grateful to have something to kindle my bones in the cold. A lively tune starts playing and we all share a toast to our host, who performs an exaggerated reverie in full response. The atmosphere is bubbly: some dance, others chat and crack jokes with each other...everyone is in good spirits. I wonder if this is the life my new friend is used to, so careless and free. So different from the one I know. What does she see in me? My ordinary seamstress routine, my life....is a stale dry biscuit in comparison to what she does. I'm saved by the male dance, Laurent, who asks me to dance. I accept: after all, I am here to enjoy myself and he will lead, I only have to follow his moves. As we sway I catch Élodie looking in my direction while chatting with the girls and drinking wine. I have no recollection of how much time we spent there, I remember walking down the stairs arm in arm with Amélie. As some guests take their leave, we gather in the living room and the the tiny kitchen downstairs to keep warm. Laurent produces himself in an impression of Monsieur Ziegler that elicits a general round of laughters. Pierrette and one of the girls sing one last song, a popular duet for the "last ones standing" then say goodbye. When the last guest walks out of the door, Élodie turns towards me. "Stay and help me sinking that?" she asks, nodding at a half empty bottle of champagne. Before I can answer, she's already looking for two glasses. She returns with just one. "You have the glass, I take the bottle" she announces. I laugh at the tipsy note in her voice as she pours liquid ambrosia in my glass. "What?" she chuckles. "Just saying that maybe you should take a seat, mademoiselle" I tease her, guiding her to the sofa. She rolls her eyes and obliges...then at last minute, she pulls me down too. Some champagne sloshes over the rim of my glass but I find a seat beside her. We both giggle. "To the best party host in Paris" I raise my glass. She smiles and mirrors my gesture. "To the most gracious guest, the pearl of Roscoff" We cling our glasses and I blush a little, diverting my eyes. When I look back at here, her eyes rests dreamy on a painting laid nearby on the floor. One of her roommates is a painter, she explains absentmindedly, he finished it yesterday. I tell her she's a real bohemienne, living in the artist quarter with a painter.... "An actress and a music-hall trumpet player. And I'm a dancer myself!" she adds. Then she falls quiet. She smiles to herself, a rather melancholic smile, as if she's contemplating her whole life. "La vie bohème...that's the life I chose" she says after a while. "I've never thought I would achieve that though. I've never thought I would get this far" "How come?" I sit more comfortably and she takes a gulp of champagne before speaking again. She was born in Bordeaux, a place now filled with memories of a lonely grim childhood. Her mother was, is -since she's still alive as far as she knows- a prostitute, who spent more time walking the streets than cuddling her little girl. Sometimes she received clients at home and Élodie ran hiding in the filthy toilet in the garden until they were gone. She never knew who her father was but she likes to think it was a tormented poet or a travelling artist...more likely and ironically, he could have been a gendarme off duty or the spoilt heir of a local noble with a taste for the sordid cheap pleasures the streets of the suburbs offer after dark. Her mother wasn't kind to her -one day when she had a bit too much, she admitted she never wanted a child- but provided for her. She was the one teaching her the can-can. "Decades ago only prostitutes danced like this, now it's different...but I guess it's part of the profession lore, so to speak" she laughs sombrely. "I mean, some girls at the Moulin still do that, dancing and selling their graces to paying admirers. I suppose it's easy to cross the line if you always want more and more and adulation is a weird poison. I don't judge them, if no one is forcing them to do so, they can do what they want...." She turns towards me, placing her hand over mine. I give it a squeeze. "I don't do that, Léa. I don't do that...I saw what that life did to my mother, what it turned her into and when one morning I packed my things and left, I swore to myself to ever do that, even if money was running low, if I could avoid it. I was barely sixteen when I arrived here, alone, in Paris. I was lucky enough to find kind people who didn't take advantage of me...and I...and I started to dance. Dancing gave me freedom" I don't know what made her so suddenly nostalgic, maybe it's the alcohol we had tonight. But her story makes me appreciate her even more: the world has been unkind to her at first, filling her childhood with hardships, but she fought back. She danced away from her misery with ineffable grace and dignity like a brave butterfly. "And now look at you: you're Lila, star of la quadrille" I flash her a bright smile. "I'm proud of you" She laughs softly. "Are you?" "Yes, of course!" I sit a bit straighter, as if it could give my word more authority. "You've faced adversities and you went so far. Only the most talented dancers are allowed to perform in la quadrille!" "You read it somewhere?" "Everybody knows that!" I exclaim, amused and surprised by her skepticism. Then, to prove my point, I hand her my glass and stand. I find a spot clear enough and declare astonished: "Like, I could never dance like you do every night!" And I start mimic the can-can routine at my best, that I'm pretty sure turns out to be a grotesque parody of the real dance. I do it to amuse her and I smile when I finally hear her laughing. She places the bottle and the glass back on the floor and claps her hands, whistling like some spectators do at the Moulin. "What? No, don't clap, that was just silly!" I dismiss her, chuckling. "Well, whatever that was it was...something" she shrugs before bursting into another laughter, softer this time. "Whatever it was? Hear hear, a can-can dancer who doesn't even recognise it!" I make a scene to be offended and throw her a cushion from the nearest armchair. She ducks just in time to avoid it. We both giggle then she stroke her chin and regards me more carefully, pensive. "You have enthusiasm but you lack technique" "Told you I'm a bad dancer" I shrug. The memory of the two of us dancing at the Cage of Fools crosses my mind like a meteor and my heart starts racing again in my chest. "May I?" she says, standing. I nod even if I don't know what she means exactly. I get it when she saunters closer and positions herself behind me. When she gently places her hands on my hips, I inhale sharply. "First of all, you need to loosen up a bit. You're too wooden...sway your hips, like this" She hums the melody of Offenbach and guides my movements so that they match the rhythm. Again, it doesn't take long before I surrender and follow her lead. I don't know how long we sway like this, I must have closed my eyes. I only hear her voice behind me. "See, definite improvement! Now rise your skirt up a little" I freeze and turn towards her. My cheeks warm up and I try to blame the wine I had. "You don't want to trip over your skirt while dancing this, you can hurt yourself" she smiles encouragely. "That's why you do that then...I would have thought..." I shake my head but do as she says. I bend down and reach for the hem of my long skirt then I grab it as I saw the dancers do and lift it up till my the height of my knees. "Well, that's one reason" "I knew there were ulterior motives" I laugh. "The Moulin is not exactly a convent, right? You have to show your legs to the paying audience" she explains, mocking Monsieur Ziedler's voice. "They pay good money for them" "I see no paying audience though" I chuckle, turning my head slightly. "Because you have little imagination, mademoiselle Pearl" she whispers into my ear. Her breath hot on my skin sends a shiver down my spine and my heart pounding against my ribs. "Ready for the gallop? Three, two, one-" "Wait, wait-" Before I can process what's happening, under the lead of Élodie, we gallop from one side of the room to the other, moving laterally like crabs. I understand now: I saw this move over and over during the acts. Élodie gives directions and tells me to sway the skirt as we move. We soon end up laughing again when we almost trip over a tin box on the floor. When we stop, I feel dizzy and lean back against her for sustain. "Enough of that" she announces between laughters. "Now, knee up, girl!" I oblige and start jumping on my other feet. My balance becomes way more precarious. To think that dancers like Élodie make this look so easy...I let out a shriek as I fear of tripping. She encourages me to rise my knee even higher up to my chest. "But I will fall!" "I'll catch you" she reassures me, holding my hips a bit tighter. "C'mon, Léa, a bit higher...higher...yes, like this! You're a natural...and now kick!" I follow her instructions and my kick sends the books on top of a pile nearby flying across the room. It's a miracle they don't land over the painting. "Well, that's one hell of a kick, darling!" Élodie cheers as I lower my leg. Her laughter is contagious, I soon join and we don't stop until we're out of breath. Then I throw my head back and it finds her shoulder. We're still in the same position. I can feel her chest rising and falling against my back and her hands on me. I slowly turn my face towards her and find her looking back at me. We go quiet, trying to catch our breaths. Has she always been so beautiful? This whole time? I remember her cheerfulness, the way she let me spin into her arms and listened to me, resting her chin on her hand at the Cage. How she immediately grabbed my hand at first sign of danger, the tender light in her eyes when our faces were inches apart in that back alley. I decide to do what probably she failed to do that night: I follow my instinct, without thinking twice. I lean forward and brush my lips over hers. A tentative kiss, the lazy stroke of a shy lover. She mirrors my move and our hands move almost at unison: hers around my waist, resting on my stomach; mine over hers, stroking her wrists and intertwining our fingers. The kiss that follows makes me tingle in her arms as a fire erupts underneath my skin. She kisses me again on her own accord this time: it's surprisingly tender and it tastes of rouge, champagne and a refrained passion that finally finds its way. My knees go suddenly weak and I feel dizzy again, lost in our embrace, lost in her. She whispers my name like a prayer and I spin to wrap my arms around her neck and kiss her again. Her hands run up my back, holding me close as if I could run away any minute but there is nowhere else I would like to be now. I cannot refrain a moan when her lips find my jaw and brush over my neck: they burn on my skin and I wish she would never stop. Our kisses become more fervent and fierce as we backpedal down the corridor, bumping into the walls yet uncaring of anything else than the sudden fire consuming us. Élodie pulls me into what must be her room because she kicks the door shut and we soon tumble over a mattress. I fall on top of her, letting out a giggle. I go quiet when I meet her eyes. Illuminated only be the moon light she's the most enchanting vision I've ever seen. Her hair messy and sprawled beneath her, the ruby red of her lips so close I barely refrain myself from running a finger over them. She looks up at me, her eyes gleaming like stars. She reaches out and touches my cheek. She strokes it gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. She looks...in awe, vulnerable, adoring. For a moment I wonder if that's what lovers feel when they look at each other, when they lay in each other arms: a sweet ache of the heart, the purest amazement. "Kiss me again" I whisper, begging as a mendicant even if I don't need to. She finds my mouth again and again and runs her fingers through my hair. I place one hand on her chest and I feel her tremble imperceptibly at my touch. She suffocates a gasp against my lips while her heart hammers underneath my fingertips. I whisper her name this time and I kiss her jaw just like she did earlier, mirroring her moves. My hand runs down her side: I'm too lost in her to know what I'm doing. When I feel her knee beneath the fabric, I caress backwards up her tight, rising her skirt. That's when it happens. Élodie squirms and grabs my hand. She breaks the kiss and asks me to stop. Suddenly ashamed of my hunger, I retrieve my hand and prop myself up. My cheeks must turn crimson when I mutter my apologies. "I'm- I'm sorry, I thought you wanted it too" I let her space to move freely. Hiding her face from me, she sits on the edge of the bed for a moment, breathing hard. Then she stands. I sit and try to compose myself. "What I want....that's not the point" she sighs. "What do you mean?" I ask, confused. "Did I do something wrong?" She still gives me her shoulder. When she speaks again, she hangs her head, defeated. "This has nothing to do with you, Léa. God, no, if you only knew..." She sounds on the verge of tears but she must swallow them back because when she turns to face me her voice is less cracked even if she looks in pain. "Léa, I like you. Way more than I should and since the moment I bumped into you and you talked of fireworks. I gave you my handkerchief only as a mere expedient to see you again and you what you did? You turned it into a little work of art for me and you barely knew me back then. You have a kind word for everyone, you're helping your roommate in a moment of need without asking for anything in return. You're a good girl, one of the most honest girl I know and I..." She takes a deep breath before shaking her head forlornly. "You didn't even fully realise what happened at the Cage" I keep quiet for a moment then I speak, keeping my voice low and fiddling with the hem of a sleeve as a kid being scolded: "The gendarmes wanted to arrest everyone because there were...sapphics and men kissing other men. And people like Pierrette there" I say because I don't know if there are words for them that aren't insults. "...Yes" she confirms, meeting my gaze again. Seeing her now, one could doubt the very same girl was laughing and having a blast one hour ago or so. She looks so troubled, her eyes a mix of tenderness and sorrow. Guilt, maybe. "Léa, I...I would spend the night with you. You wouldn't even have to ask me. But-" she grimaces and my heart skips a beat, bracing for the worst. "What will happen when you hear that this is illegal, that people get sent to jail or the asylum -you remember? We joked about the asylum- for things like this? Because the authorities say it's like an...an illness, a taint-" "Why are you telling me all this?" I protest, standing too. "Because that's what happens out there! It took days to get Pierrette out of jail" she exclaims. "I should have never taken you there, I've been such a fool-" "You're a good girl too, Élodie" I interrupts her, reaching for her hand. "Don't tell me you doubt that" She looks down at our hands then meets my eyes, forlorn. "Am I though?" her sad smile pierces through my heart. "I almost got you arrested that night, little pearl. What would have your boss or your friends said if we hadn't been fast enough and those gendarmes had locked us in together with the others? You barely knew me back then, you would have hated me and I couldn't have blamed you" "But I don't hate you!" Now I am the one on the verge of crying. "We...we would have found a way out, I'm sure of that!" Élodie smiles at me, a weak pained smile. She retrieves her hand and caresses my cheek. "Maybe we would have, just like in one of those ballads chanteuses sing" she sighs. "But the truth is I care too much for you and so far I've only been a reckless fool, a selfish reckless fool. I could never forgive myself if you-" Words got stuck in her throat and she lowers her eyes for a moment. Then she presses a soft kiss on my forehead. "It's too late to walk the street alone at night. You can stay here tonight and...you can take the bed, I'll take the sofa" Having said that, she walks away. "Élodie, you don't have to...please, stay" I beg, hoping to stop her but when I turn she's already closing the door behind her. I consider the idea of running after her but I soon realise it would be absolutely pointless and I don’t want to make things worse. I stand for a moment, shaken. Then I lay down on the bed still warm of our embrace and look out into the night. The moon that made Élodie look even more beautiful and ethereal is still up there in the sky but now I'm alone. Silent tears rim my cheeks. I lay awake for hours, unable to sleep. For some reason I know that Élodie is doing the same.

[haloshornsinkstains]

Spirit Week - Monday: Wedding Day

In which everyone is dressed up for a wedding and chaos ensues.

Sorry this took a while, my laptop keyboard has been throwing hissy fits and seems to believe I’m holding down / constantly. Seems to be behaving today so here’s Chapter 2. As always it can be found on AO3 also here (I tend to update AO3 first)

Sunday night found Kore, Mammon. Levi and Beel all curled up on Kore’s bed watching the latest episode of a show Levi had recommended to them. They didn’t quite fit, Kore was sandwiched between Mammon and Beel - though with Mammon’s insistent tugging at her she was almost on top of him - while Levi pressed up against her legs. It had taken some convincing to get him out his room and here in the first place, and now she felt bad he seemed almost separated from them. “You can come up here if you want Levi?” She shifted slightly, making a vague gesture towards her torso that made Mammon frown, even if Levi didn’t bother to turn his head away from his D.D.D to look. “Why would I want to get closer to a normie like you?” Kore laughed, reaching forwards to gently ruffle his hair, momentarily exposing the reddened tips of his ears. “It’s a good thing you’re cute, you grump.” She didn’t need to see his face to know he’d be bright red by now, fingers flying across the screen as he muttered something about ‘normies’ and ‘waifu’ under his breath. She relaxed back against Mammon, still smiling softly. “So… you guys all prepared for Spirit Week? What’s the plan?” Mammon groaned. “It’s a pain in the ass, I’m not doing it.” Beel swallowed and shook his head. “You know Lucifer won’t let you get away with that.” “... crap.” Kore laughed, shaking her head. “Besides that, you can’t let Asmo out-do you with his dress!” She glanced over to him, watching his cheeks flush just a little. “I think you’d look dashing in a tuxedo.” She hadn’t said it just to get a rise out of him, but he looked so pretty with his face flushed like that it was hard to resist. Still, she thought, he really would look dashing in a tux. “Yeah, well… maybe I’ll do it. Only ‘cause Lucifer would be mad at me, nothing to do with what you just said. Of course I’d look great in a tuxedo, I look great in everything. I’m the Great Mammon.” He paused. “What’re you looking at me like that for?” Kore shook her head, “No reason. What about you Beel?” He shrugged, chewing a mouthful of popcorn for a second before swallowing. “Guess I’m wearing the same as everyone else.” “Awh, not joining me and Asmo in our dresses?” She pouted a little, eyes sparkling with mischief. “He’s really going for a dress?” Levi looked up from his phone with a frown. “Of course he is, that idiot will do anything for attention.” Mammon grumbled from somewhere behind Kore’s head, shifting slightly. “You’re wearing one too Kore?” “Asmo insisted.” She frowned a little. “I hope it’s not too ridiculous.” The boys fell suspiciously silent and she sighed, shaking her head. “I’m clearly the smart one doing lessons online, I don’t have to do any of this.” “I think you should anyway Levi, school spirit and all that. You can join the spirit of suffering with the rest of us.” Kore bumped him lightly with her knee. “At least we’ll look good doing it?”

Kore was roused from her sleep by the sound of hammering on her door. Groaning she rolled over to check her D.D.D. Well, she hadn’t overslept despite what turned out to be quite a late night, in fact it was still 30 minutes until her alarm… what in all hells was happening? Couldn’t be an emergency, no one else sounded like they were awake. Maybe Lucifer? What had she done to get in trouble this time? Grumbling she hauled herself out of bed, tugging down the oversized tee shirt she’d stolen from Beel, and opened the door. “Lord Diavolo you look awful!” “Why thank you Asmodeus, how nice to see you too.” She stopped just short of shutting the door in his face, settling for a tired glare instead. “Why are you here?” Asmo grinned brightly, holding up a large black bag. “It’s Monday! We have a Wedding to prepare for!” “It’s barely Monday, why so early?” Kore grumbled in response, stepping back to let him into her room. “I have to get your makeup and hair done too!” “I can do my own makeup, it’s not that hard. I was happy to just steal a suit from someone you know?” “I cannot be the only one in this house in a dress, besides, it would be a crime to let a pretty girl like you go without a wedding dress today!” “Flattery won’t get you anywhere Asmo.” She flopped down on the bed, staring at the black bag. “Go ahead, do your worst.” Grinning from ear to ear Asmodeus descended on her, makeup brushes in hand.

It felt like it took forever.

Kore was pretty certain it didn’t take her this long to sort her makeup in the morning. Granted, her makeup was more basic than this, because sleep was very important, but still. She stared at herself in the mirror, at least it was more her style than the stuff she saw in wedding pictures in the human realm. He’d done a good job with her hair too, an elegant updo in contrast to her usual simple style. “That’s… pretty good actually, thank you Asmo.” She smiled softly, turning her face this way and that. “Wait until you see the dress!” She turned to see him holding an elegant black dress, a beautiful gold pattern that looked almost like flames framing the bottom edge. Eyes wide she took it from him, studying the intricate details carefully, from the low back to the sheer sleeves. “That’s… wow.” She looked back up at him. “Is it really okay for me to wear this?” “Of course! You should see mine!” He held up an even more extravagant black dress, though this time the details were pink and included the symbol for lust… in sequins. Kore giggled. “Very you.” ‘So, wedding dresses in Devildom look like they’re generally black. Good to know. Much more my style than white wedding dresses I guess, though it would have been nice to wear one just once in my life…’ “Hey” a pair of fingers snapped in front of her face “are you going to put that on or not?” “Oh yeah, sorry.” Her face flamed slightly. “Are you going to just stand there?” “You expect me to leave and miss out on this show? Besides, you’ll need help doing it up.” Kore narrowed her eyes. “At least turn around.” With a huff and a series of muttered complaints Asmodeus turned his back to her, leaving her to change in peace. The dress was surprisingly easy to put on, though he had been right about her needing a hand, she couldn’t quite get the zip at the back all the way up. “Erm, zip help?” With a grin Asmo spun around, though his idea of zipping her up involved way more caressing her back than strictly necessary. “I said zip, not feel me up.” “Couldn’t resist.” Just as she opened her mouth to say something the door flew open. “Yo, Kore what’s the…” Mammon froze half way though his sentence, staring at her. Oh no, he looks good. Kore’s eyes trailed over the half open shirt and tie that he hadn’t even attempted to do up before glancing back up to his wide eyes and half open mouth. ‘Oh hells. Wait, why has he gone quiet? This can’t be good’. “Oh… does it really look that bad? I’ll just…” She whirled to head to the bathroom and change, but a firm hand around her wrist stopped her. Expected Asmo she turned ready to snap at him, but instead her eyes met tanned skin and blue eyes that were a bit too close. “You look good… uh, for a human.” Suddenly he released her wrist as if he’d been burned, blushing furiously at her wide eyes and broad grin. “Thank you!” She reached up to touch her hair. “I do kinda like this tiara, I might have to keep it.” “Yeah, well, don’t get any ideas. C’mon, we’ll be late if you don’t hurry up.” She glanced at her D.D.D and winced, ‘hells Asmo, this took forever’. “Please let me get coffee first.”

The day had mostly been uneventful, outside of the initial surprise from all of the Demons gathered in the breakfast room at her appearance and Kore’s flush and excited gushing about how good they all looked (much to Mammon’s poorly hidden irritation). Once they’d reached the school and were surrounded by other students all wearing fancy wedding attire she felt much less awkward and actually started to enjoy it, complimenting several students on how nice they looked, to mixed reactions. Even Solomon and Simeon had got in on the act, though Simeon didn’t look quite so different in his priest outfit as most of the rest of the student body. She managed to sit next to one of the brothers in almost all her classes, usually Mammon, though occasionally Beel or, since he seemed to be feeling generous today and offered to help her in one class - Satan. It was only her very last class of the day where she sat alone, and the only one that seemed to drag. Solomon had sat in front of her, and occasionally turned to give her a pointer when she grumbled particularly loudly about being stuck, but it just wasn’t the same. And for some reason she was sure she could feel eyes burning into her the whole lesson. Finally the bell rang and she was free, though part of her didn’t really want to have to take this stunning dress off, she stood and stretched, letting a soft groan slip past her lips as she felt her back cracking. “Need me to walk you back home?” She looked over at Solomon and smiled. “Thanks for the offer, but Mammon and Beel said they’d be waiting for me in the courtyard. I should be okay getting there.” She glanced towards the door and smiled. “Besides, I think Asmo is after your attention.” Solomon turned and laughed. “The girls in the school really didn’t stand a chance did they?” “Not at all, Drama Queen.” Kore grinned. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” With a wave Solomon headed out, leaving Kore to collect the last of her things and head towards the courtyard. She was almost there when she heard voices behind her. Cruel, angry sounding voices. “Hey you, human!” Kore stopped, turning to look at the owner of the vicious sounding voice. A demon was stood there, one hand on her hip as she fixed her with a vicious glare. A few of what Kore guessed must be her friends were gathered around her in a way that reminded her for a fleeting moment of a pack of hungry hyenas. “What do you think you’re doing?” Kore blinked. “Um, going to the courtyard to meet my friends?” That just seemed to make the demon more angry. “I meant with Mammon. Putting your filthy human hands all over him, he’s going to me mine you know. I don’t want you getting your filth all over him. You’re disgusting.” Kore frowned, fighting down the painful sting that made its presence known in her chest. “He’s just protecting me, it’s his job.” “Yeah right! I’ve seen you, pawing all over him as if you think someone like him could ever be interested in you! You’re trying to soil him with your disgusting human body.” Whoever this woman was she was furious now, barely contained rage boiling under the surface as she lunged at Kore. “You can’t have him!” ‘ Run or die. Run or die. ’ The words echoed in Kore’s head as she spun on her heel and tried to dash away, faster than even she would ever have been able to give herself credit for. The demon’s claws caught in her dress as she tried to flee, ripping the gorgeous material and sending Kore sprawling on the floor as the force of it tugged her feet from under her. ‘ Well, I guess if I’m going to die this is a pretty nice outfit to die in. I really wanted to see the beach though. ’ “What in hell are you doin’ Sitri?!” Kore blinked, ‘ well, not dead ’. She looked up to find Mammon stood in front of her, almost like he was guarding her. The demon who had looked so ready to kill her was now pouting and fluttering her eyelashes in his direction. “Oh c’mon Mammon, come hang out with us. We’ll have a much better time than you would with that human.” She reached out to touch his chest but in a flash he’d wrapped a hand around her wrist stopping her. “You can’t go tryin’ to kill the human. And I’m not coming with you.” “I wouldn’t kill her, I was only going to hurt her a little.” Kore flinched, trying to shift back across the grass, but her body felt like it was made of ice. “You’re not gonna hurt her either. If you try again you’ve got me to answer to. And Lucifer.” The demon, Sitri, blanched at the mention of Lucifer’s name. She threw one more furious look back at Kore before gathering her pack at heading away. Kore couldn’t look away from them, though Mammon blocked a lot of her view. She was so fixed on watching them leave that she let out a yelp of surprise when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and lifted her to her feet. “It’s me, Kore.” Beels voice was soft in her ear and she relaxed a little, letting him support her as the tension started to leave her limbs. Mammon turned to frown at her, giving her a look she couldn’t stand to look back at. Not after what that woman had said. It almost looked like he really cared. Her downcast eyes caught sight of the rip in her dress and she choked back a sob. “Oh… my dress.” Strong hands caught her shoulders. “What’re you on about? You could’ve died and you’re worried about a dress? Stupid human.” There was real worry in his voice and it stung. “You’re just lucky Lucifer told me ta protect you or you’d be dead.” She looked up, blinking back a few tears. “Thank you.” “Yeah well, it’s my job. It’s not like I like ya or anything.” He was blushing, but he paused at the hurt that flashed across her face. Usually she played his comments off with a laugh or an affectionate smile, but this time what they’d said must have really hit her. Trying to hide both his blush and her tears he pulled her tight into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “They’re just jealous hags ‘cause you looked better than them is all. You should ignore ‘em.” She sniffled, pushing her face harder into his chest as he gingerly pet the top of her head. Not sure what else to do Beel joined them, enveloping her back in his warmth.

Across the courtyard Asmo sighed, leaning his head against Solomon’s shoulder with a pout. “And that’s why they hate her, it’s almost enough to make a man jealous.” Solomon chuckled, bumping his shoulder slightly. “Well at least I’m glad she’s okay.” “Hmm. Those bitches ripped my dress.” Asmo, clearly not paying attention, scanned the courtyard for the retreating demons. “I think I should go have a chat with them.”

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 3)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 3181

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​, @carryonmyswansong​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

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

Spence dropped you off at the gate, a rather tearful parting, mostly for you. You two had only been apart for the time Spence was in prison, and that was utter hell. Compared to that, this should be a cakewalk. 

Your first week was the hardest. You spent most of it getting acquainted at the school, in the classroom, rehearsing a few of your lectures, meeting other faculty, rereading the textbook you’d chosen. There wasn’t any time to look at the FBI cases you’d been given, let alone trying to find a more permanent residence while you were in town. 

The second week, the classes began and you could already feel a rhythm beginning to set in. Some of the students really seemed to be ready and liking the class. Others, you could tell, were stuck with this class. It made no difference to you, as you’d teach the best way you knew how and help anyone who had questions.

The second Saturday night, you dove into the case files. At first, not much had tied them together. Different backgrounds, ages, races, sex. Victimology was all over the place. If these were even victims at all. But they were missing persons, who had never been heard from again, there had to be a reason. Something, or someone, chose these specific people, for whatever purpose. It was your job to figure out why those people. 

Over the course of the next few days, nothing struck with you. None of it made any sense. Finally, you caved and talked to Spencer about it. 

“So how is the case going? Got it cracked?” Spence questioned.

You let out a heavy sigh before groaning. “Actually, I think I need your help.”

“Oh no, we know it’s a tough one if you need me,” he said with a laugh. 

“I just can’t figure this out. Here, let me run the profiles by you.” 

“Okay, shoot.”

He listened to you inform him of all of the cases, all their demographics. By the time you were done, you could practically hear him frowning. “That’s really odd. There has to be some kind of common denominator.” 

“I know but… nothing.”

“No, no. Let’s look more closely. Do you need Garcia to run their backgrounds? Same high schools? Any familial relations?”

“That’s a good idea,” I murmured. “I’ll do it myself though. I’ll dig as much as I can and if I get lost again, I’ll have her run them through the database and see if any hits show up.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I mean, at the very least, they all lived in Miami at the time of their disappearance, so there’s that.” 

“It’s a start.” 

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

As you dug deeper and deeper though, you found that most of the people had been through Miami Police Department as suspects, arrested, or even a ticket. Somehow, they had a run in with the law. Not all of them had been in trouble, some were actually stand up citizens in the community, or so it seemed. But unsubs don’t just take some people, then switch it up and take the opposite. 

So you took it upon yourself to head up the investigation in the Miami police department. You began to question the cyber crimes unit, seeing as some of these people never came in contact with the police, maybe their browsing history did. Maybe they pissed off the wrong person. After a day of questioning the entire unit though, no one fit any loose profile you might have built. 

The following day that you only held a morning class, you headed straight to the narcotics department. Maybe some of the well-to-do men and women that had been missing, kidnapped, or killed, whatever their fate was, were involved in some crazy drug ring, but the officer couldn’t get good evidence on them. 

However, that was quickly a bust too. Miami and their police had no problem busting drug rings for coke, heroin, and pot. Their detectives seemed open and honest and most of them admitted to knowing some of the missing persons but it would go as far as, “Yeah, I arrested them,” or “Sure, I saw them, I think they were in the station in booking at one point.” Not exactly real motives. 

None of this felt right. 

Well, you couldn’t do anything about that now. Thursday and Friday were booked solid with classes and a meeting for the psychology professors. 

Again, Saturday and Sunday you spent investigating and apartment hunting. Finally, you found a place for the apartment. Economical, good part of town. You didn’t need a lot, a bed and a kitchenette. All the paperwork was settled on Saturday and you were moved in by Sunday afternoon, the files spread all over the floor as you studied them. 

Monday came and you had classes starting at noon, but that left your morning open so you got up bright and early and went to the homicides department. That’s when everything started to feel a lot more promising. 

“Lieutenant LaGuerta?” you asked, poking your head into an office in the back of this section of the station. 

“Yes?” she responded, lifting her head from a pile of papers. 

“Hi, I’m Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Y/N Reid of the FBI,” you stated as you walked in and extended your hand. She took it and shook your hand, a frown coming on her face. “I’m here to investigate some missing persons.”

“Oh? Under whose authority?” 

“The FBI’s, ma’am. I’ve already conducted some questioning in the other units. This is the last stop on my tour,” you noted with a laugh to which she gave you a somewhat hesitant, forced polite laugh. 

“I don’t recall anyone telling me you’d be down.” 

“Well, it’s not exactly under the radar, but we aren’t advertising that the FBI is actively investigating,” you explained. 

“I see. Don’t you all usually come down only if it’s crossed state lines?” 

You couldn’t help but wonder why all the animosity. Sure, cops were territorial, and no one liked anyone coming in and saying, “You can’t do your job so I’m here to do it for you.” But the fact of the matter was, there were eighteen missing people and Miami was the hub of it all and that’s the lead you needed to follow. 

You grinned, looking down, humming. “We don’t, usually. But our Florida division is stumped so, they brought me in.” 

“Wow, a whole team is bankrupt of a lead, and you have one. Impressive.” 

You couldn’t help but bite your lip and ask, “I’m sorry, does my presence here offend you in some way?” 

“I just don’t want you wasting my units time with pointless questions about missing persons we probably know nothing about.” 

You nodded. “I understand, but I would hope, as a fellow law enforcement officer, the goal would be to check all avenues first and make sure these missing persons are found and justice is served. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’ll tell my supervisor back in D.C. that the Lieutenant doesn’t want me snooping around this case.” 

Your eyes leveled with hers, challenging her. You weren’t typically someone to throw your weight or rank around, or even start confrontation, but you had a job, a duty to do and this woman seemed adamant against helping you in that endeavor. 

She grinned politely. “You’re right. I apologize. What can I help with?” 

“First off, do any of these people look familiar?” You pulled out the paper that you’d photocopied all of the pictures and wrote their names, ages, and sex below it. Rather than tossing out eighteen files 

She glanced through the pages. “Uh, yeah, a handful of them. The names ring a bell too. These your missing people?” 

You nodded. “Yes, they are. Would you happen to know anything about any of them? If any of them moved after a trial or perhaps ran? Not all of them have a criminal background but about half do.” 

“And the other half?”

“Mostly spotless, relatively good citizens, but where I come from, victimology doesn’t swing on a pendulum like that.” 

“Alright, well, all I can say is that yeah some of them are familiar.” 

“Would you mind if I questioned your detectives?” you wondered. 

“Not at all. I’ll introduce you and you can proceed how you like.” 

She took you out to the common area where she introduced you to Sergeant Doakes, Detective Batista, Forensics specialist Masuka, Detective Morgan, and forensic specialist Morgan. 

“She’s conducting an investigation for the FBI, please assist her any way you can. Dr. Reid, you can use the conference room to do questioning.” 

You thanked Lieutenant LaGuerta and decided to just go down the list from highest ranking to lowest ranking. Sergeant Doakes was first. 

“Hi, Sergeant Doakes,” you greeted as you sat down in front of him. “Thank you for speaking with me.” 

He merely nodded. 

“I’m going to show you some people, and I’d like you to tell me if you recognize any of them?” 

“Alright,” he said with a shrug. 

You slid the papers in front of him, and waited for a reaction, gauging anything he did. An eyebrow twitch, a clenching of the jaw. Anything. 

Yet, you saw nothing but a studious eye from a good detective. 

“Yeah, I have seen some of these people. Booked a few of them myself. Sonsabitches got away on some bullshit their lawyer pulled. Why?” 

“They’re missing,” you informed with a cocked brow. You wondered if he would change his less caring manner, but he didn’t. 

“So you want to know if I’ve seen them?”

“Or where they might’ve gone. Did any of them seem like they had other connections that might help them disappear?”

“I don’t know. Some might’ve,” he agreed. 

“I’m not convinced all of these people are victims. Some may have very well gotten involved in some things they didn’t know how to get out of. Some may have just ran. I’m just checking all avenues.” 

“Makes sense,” he stated. “What’s your gut say?” he wondered.

You sighed as you shook your head. “I don’t really know. I’ve got people with criminal backgrounds, others with nothing at all except attending church and a perfect attendance at work.” 

“Be kind of weird for all these people to all skip town.”

“Yes, it would be. But Miami is big, with a lot of transient people, and it isn’t exactly Cookie Cutter, USA.” 

“True. So you got any more questions for me?” 

You shook your head again. “No. If you can think of anything, where they might’ve gone. I’d appreciate it.” 

He nodded and stood. You asked if he could send in Batista. 

Questioning with him was much easier. He seemed a lot more easy going and he seemed more willing to share information. Your gut didn’t tell you it was him though. It didn’t tell you it was Doakes either. Batista felt more of a “I like justice being served” kind, while Doakes felt more like a “criminals get what they deserve.” But that didn’t make you suspect him. 

Next was Masuka, then Debra Morgan. 

Debra was a colorful character but clearly not witty enough to carry out a crime. She was bright enough to solve a crime, but not stage one, let alone eighteen. Masuka was just as bad, if not worse. He seemed oblivious, and not on purpose. He said he didn’t recognize two of the missing people, but when you reminded him that he’d investigated two of their crimes he suddenly remembered all the details of the case. He was spacey, not covering anything up. But spacey doesn’t bode well for anyone who may have abducted eighteen people. 

Finally, Dexter Morgan, Detective Morgan’s brother met you in the conference room. 

“Hi, Dexter, I’m Dr. Reid.” 

“Doctor of what?” he asked casually as he leaned back and smiled. That smile didn’t seem… sincere. Oh, it felt sincere on him, but not a friendly, polite smile. It was a smile of… an inside joke.

“Doctor of psychology,” you stated with a grin. 

“Love the mind, do you?”

“Yes, Mr. Morgan. I am really interested in what makes people tick.” You flashed him a smile that served as a warning not to fuck with you. 

“Me too.” He smirked quickly before hiding it with a serious face but it didn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“So you and your sister work together? That’s nice,” you remarked.

“Sometimes.”

“Do you not get along?” 

“We do. We’re really close, but everyone needs space, privacy now and then.” 

You nodded. “Mm. I understand. I work with my husband. We met on the job, and work together on the same team, and obviously live together.” 

Dexter stared at you for a second before speaking. “Wow. That’s a lot of time together.” 

You bobbed your head in agreement. “Yes, it is. But I’m down here now. He’s back in D.C.”

“You’re just down here for this case?”

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly. “Actually, I’m teaching at the University. A new forensic psych class. But I believe I need to be questioning you, Mr. Morgan,” you reminded.

He chuckled, nodding. “Right, right. Go ahead.”

That bothered you. All of the other people that had come in weren’t as relaxed as him. Masuka and Batista might’ve been a little lax, but he was entirely too at ease. Almost smug. Not to mention the smirk and the fact that he was trying to find out much about you, and delaying the questioning. 

You pushed the pictures across to him. 

“Tell me what you know about these people,” you ordered. You didn’t even bother asking if he knew them, because you knew he did. He had to have known them. All of his colleagues did.

He looked at the pictures, a good amount of time. Not too long to pretend which ones he knew and which ones he didn’t. But not so short that it was curious how he could dismiss it so quickly.  

He picked out about five of them that he knew, what he knew about them, then smiled and sat back. The smile. That’s what got you. Batista, Morgan, when they were done telling you what they knew they would look up at you expectantly. Wondering if you were profiling them, wondering if they’d satisfied you, wondering if they needed to go on, wondering if they were under suspicion. 

Not Dexter. For some reason, he smiled.

Did he think that’s what he was supposed to do? Did he think innocent people smiled when shown a list of missing persons? It wasn’t smug, not the smile itself, but the action of smiling. A gut feeling formed and it was aimed right at him. You knew he had something to do with this. Whether he abducted them or knew where they went or who took them, he knew something about it. 

“Do you have any reason to believe these people would run after committing the crimes they did or getting arrested?” 

“I can’t speak to other people’s motives, Dr. Reid.”

A bemused smile fell on your face. “You aren’t on trial here, Mr. Morgan.” 

“I know that.” 

“So then tell me, you interacted with these people. Did they seem like the type to run?” 

“People are capable of all kinds of things. This guy here who was involved in that armed robbery, probably not. But take this guy who murdered a twenty-one year old girl, he might have.” 

“He was acquitted. Said there wasn’t enough evidence to hold him.” 

“He might have feared retrial. Maybe his life was ruined down here.” 

“Maybe,” you agreed, peering at him. 

“It’s a shame though. Lots of people missing.” 

You nodded. “Mhm, eighteen people.” 

“Have you talked to their families? Maybe they know something. I mean, we just arrest them here.” 

“Well, you don’t,” you corrected. “You investigate the crime scene. You tell your colleagues if the person is capable of doing it, based on their strength, size, height.” 

“Yes.” 

“So you’re rather familiar with crime scenes, and what they look for, and what they don’t look for… Who’s capable of doing criminal acts…” You were pacing at this point, talking to him, thinking out loud. 

“That’s right. It’s my job to know exactly how someone could or might kill, and how they might clean it up. Just like it’s your job to profile people based on age, sex, and whether or not they have mommy or daddy issues,” he said, his voice getting a bit more agitated than it had been. 

You couldn’t help the grin that popped onto your face. “You don’t believe in profiling?” 

“I believe that people aren’t so black and white. I believe that you all like to think you can put people in a box with a pretty ribbon and say ‘Here, this one is a textbook psychopath who kills women because his mother beat him for masturbating when he was fifteen’.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about my job.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Yes.” 

“Prove it.”

“Check my track record,” you challenged with a gleam in your eye. “Profiling isn’t breaking people down with textbook definitions and diagnosis. We look at victimology, and branch out. If the victims aren’t related in any way, much like my missing persons, we have to seek out the one thing that is common for them. For Dahmer it was young men. For Bundy it was women. Gacy, little boys. Jack the Ripper, prostitutes. You get the picture. Whether you like to believe it or not, Mr. Morgan, killers have a type, a style. It can be obvious like sex, or something small. For whoever may have kidnapped these people, I’m sensing a trace of vigilante,” you informed. You hadn’t told anyone this yet.

“Why?” 

“Because it’s simple. About half of these people have had run ins with the law and for whatever reason they were back out on the street. The other ones have picture perfect lives that are just a little too picture perfect for me.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I think these people all committed crimes, whether or not they were caught by police is another thing. I also think that the person who took these people knew about some sort of shady past.” 

“That’s quite the theory.” 

“Exactly. Only a theory. Once I talk to all of these families, I’ll be back for further questioning.” 

“Does that mean we’re done?”

You gave him a polite smile. “It does. So far all of you have admitted to knowing some of these people, and the rest, well the rest are just perfect citizens that I need to figure out how they’re related to these criminals.” 

“Sounds like you have quite the task, going around to eighteen families.” 

“It may take a bit, but I’ll get it done.”

“Between that and teaching, has to be a lot.” 

“It’s my job, Mr. Morgan. I can make it work.” 

“I bet you can.” 

With that, you two said your goodbyes and you went back to your apartment. 

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

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[all-things-skam]

Jens’ season | Chapter two

Sunday, January 12th

Going to lunch with Robbe and Sander was Jens' worst idea to date. The two were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship and constantly making heart eyes at each other across the table, completely ignoring Jens.

When Jens made it to the café, Robbe was wearing what appeared to be one of Sander's tee shirts - it was way too big to belong to Robbe - and the older boy was all over Robbe, clinging onto and kissing him, making it even clearer to Jens that he was third-wheeling the couple's lunch date.

Sometimes, Jens missed being in a relationship.

Single life was good too, though. No need to explain yourself and share your whereabouts all the time, or return calls and messages under five minutes. Freedom felt too good for Jens to give up celibacy.

The waiter brought over their orders, awkwardly clearing his throat as he slid Robbe’s plate in front of him. By the look on Robbe’s face, it was clear that he was uncomfortable. Sander didn’t seem to care, still whispering into Robbe’s ear and kissing his cheek.

If Jens hadn’t been so used to their behavior, he would’ve felt uncomfortable too.

‘’Did you finish editing the vlog?’’ Robbe asked, breaking the silence.

‘’Is it the one where Moyo cracks his pants?’’ Sander demanded, a sly grin creeping across his lips.

Jens nodded. ‘’Yeah, that’s the one.’’ He paused, taking a bite of his grilled sandwich, chasing it down with a fry.. ‘’Sander, did Robbe tell you about the hot pepper he ate? Poor guy was crying.’’ Jens made a dramatic frown, pretending to feel sorry for his best friend. Robbe chucked a piece of bread at him.

‘’Shut up.’’ Robbe narrowed his eyes. ‘’I wasn’t crying…’’

Okay, he wasn’t ‘tears streaming down his face crying’, but there were real tears pooling in Robbe’s eyes from how spicy the pepper was and Jens had the proof on tape. He couldn’t argue with that.

‘’Aw,’’ Sander cooed teasingly. ‘’Couldn’t handle the spice, uh?’’

''I'd like to see you try and taste it! It was fucking hot, okay?''

The blond scoffed. ''Robbe, your tolerance is less than impressive. You can't handle hot Cheetos. They’re not even that spicy!''

‘’They make my lips feel tingly. I hate it.’’

Sander leaned closer to his boyfriend, lowering his voice. ‘’I can name something else that makes your lips feel all tingly…’’ He had this smug look on his face as Robbe pinched his thigh, a silent warning.

The bell resonated across the café as a new customer walked in, causing Jens to lift his eyes from his plate, needing a distraction from the intimate exchange happening in front of him. He didn’t mind them acting like that, there are just some things Jens would rather not hear or know about his best friend.

The customer’s back was facing Jens, but he recognized the curly fringe and denim jacket.

Hands stuffed inside his pockets, Lucas, glanced at the menu over the counter, uncertain. He looked around, searching for nothing in particular and smiled, face lighting up when seeing a familiar face inside the café.

Jens raised his hand and waved him over, offering a helping hand to the new kid. Or, that’s what he told himself.

Lucas walked over to Jens’s table, smiling bright. ‘’Hi.’’

‘’Wanna join us?’’

‘’I don’t want to intrude…’’ Lucas glanced at Robbe and Sander.

Jens shook his head. ‘’You’re not,’’ he assured him. ’’I already feel like a third wheel. If you join us, I won’t have to talk to myself for the rest of lunch.’’

‘’Okay.’’ Lucas sat down next to Jens, his presence going unacknowledged by the couple in front of them. He brushed his knee against Jens’, causing a warmth in his stomach that seemed to spread throughout his body. ‘’Lucas,’’ he introduced himself, shaking Robbe and Sander’s hands. ‘’So, what’s good here? Last time, I ordered a ham and cheese sandwich and it was less than tasty.’’ Lucas grimaced at the memories. ‘’I’ll take some of your recommendations, if you don’t mind.’’

‘’It depends what you’re in the mood for,’’ Sander said, detaching himself from Robbe a bit, playing connaisseur. ‘’Personally, I wouldn’t recommend the croques. Not crunchy enough and burnt on one side most of the time. They serve them good-side-up thinking you won’t notice.’’

‘’So, no croques, I take it?’’

Sander grinned. ‘’No croques. Coffee’s good though.’’

‘’Noted.’’ He stole a fry from Jens’s plate.

‘’Those are mine!’’

Lucas shrugged, happily eating his fry. ‘’I take it you don’t share your food. You have plenty. Selfish much, uh?’’ He cocked an eyebrow, giving Jens a judgemental look.

The latter rolled his eyes. ‘’So? Are the fries good?’’

‘’They’re alright, I guess. But, I’m gonna order cake. I’m more of a sweet tooth.’’

.

Monday, January 113th

Noises were coming from the kitchen when Jens came home from school. He frowned and removed his shoes and jacket, leaving the latter with his backpack in the entrance. He'd take them upstairs later.

His dad's shoes weren't on the small carpet which meant he wasn't home - again.

Jens headed down the hallway, seeing his mom, still in her work uniform, pulling out a box of pasta from the pantry and frantically moving around the kitchen.

''Mom?''

At her son's voice, the brunette woman snapped her head around, flashing him a quick smile. ''You're home early.''

''Yeah, Mr. Montez let us out before the bell so I got to catch an earlier bus,'' the teenager explained. ''Need a hand?''

''That would be very helpful.''

Jens moved to the stove, pulling out a pot and filled it with water. He didn't know what his mom was cooking, but judging by the pastas on the counter top, she was going to need to boil them.

Jens hoped for his dad's sake that his job interview wasn't a lie. His mom was exhausted from taking extra shifts all the time. Someone else needed to bring money home.

Christmas had been less festive than usual. The smaller amount of money in the Stoffels' pockets was reflected in Christmas dinner and handful of presents under the tree. Jens had to renounce the new skateboard he wanted, his parents being on a tighter budget. He was sad, but his old skateboard still worked fine.

Waiting for the water to boil, Jens voiced the question that had been nagging him for the past few weeks. ''Why didn’t you say anything? About dad losing his job?''

Fenna stopped chopping the vegetables, going still for a few seconds. She let out a shaky breath and turned to her son, ready to address his concerns. ''Because we didn’t want to worry you, or Lotte. You know how prideful your dad is; he was embarrassed to tell his kids that he lost his job. He's forty-six. Losing your job at that age is difficult to take in, Jens. He tried to negotiate getting his job back, but his boss was firm with his decision.''

Jens let his head fall and his eyes close. He knew this was a difficult subject for both his parents, yet he brought it up. ‘’I’m sorry, Mom.’’

His mom shook her head. She was so grateful to have a son like Jens. So caring and empathetic. But, this wasn't his fault. Nothing concerning his father's job loss was. ‘’It’s not your fault. It happens.’’ She pulled a pan from the cupboard and set it beside the cooking pasta. ''What time is it?’’

‘’Almost four,’’ Jens responded, checking the time on his phone.

‘’Crap. I have to get going. They need a nurse to fill-in for the night and I couldn't afford to decline. That's why I was preparing dinner a bit early. Guess I didn't judge my time very well… I also have to pick up your sister from school and drop her here and-''

''Mom? Mom!'' His sharp tone cut through her increasingly panicked one. ''Put everything down. I can make dinner. Pastas are easy to make, right?''

‘’And Lotte-’’

''I’m sure Ines’ mom will take Lotte home with them if you ask. She lives two blocks from here,’’ Jens suggested, solving another problem on his mom’s checklist.

She grabbed her jacket, bag, and keys, listing the rest of the dinner’s recipe to him. Jens nodded along without really hearing her, knowing he could just wing it. Like he said, pasta are relatively simple to make.

“Got it,’’ Jens assured her, confidently. ‘’Just go, Mom. We’ll be fine, I promise.''

Fenna sighed. “Okay, okay I’m leaving. I love you Jens. Take good care of your sister while I’m gone.”

Love you too, Jens thought, hearing the front door close after she left the kitchen. He turned back to the stove and his eyes widened in surprise at the boiling water overflowing from the pot. He quickly grabbed at the burner knob, flipping it to low while trying to avoid the scalding water.

.

Tuesday, January 14th

It was the first time that Jana came over since they broke up. She hadn't sat on Jens's bed in over a year, somehow, everything still felt familiar. Nothing had changed. The sheets were the same, Jens' clothes still sitting in an overflowing pile on the desk chair by the door. Even his electric guitar was in its same spot.

Jana smiled, looking around the bedroom. ''I missed this.''

Jens furrowed his eyebrows, confused. ''Missed what? My dirty clothes?'' He scooted higher on his bed, propping himself up against his pillows, and chuckled.

''No, idiot.'' She shook her head, holding back from chucking a pillow at him. ''Coming over, being here...with you. It's been so long.''

Two years.

Jens remembered the last time she was there. He was playing Fortnite with Robbe - and Moyo online. She came over, uninvited and without warning, and told Jens some bullshit story about forgetting her phone at Luka’s. This was where their relationship started to go downhill.

‘’Would you change anything about our past, if you could?’’ Jana asked, breaking the silence. She was sitting crossed legged, facing Jens.

Her question, although relatively simple, made Jens think twice before responding.

Although it was tempting to say yes, Jens shook his head. He wouldn’t lie, there were decisions and actions he wasn’t proud of, but his past led them to where he was today. If he made even the slightest change, everything would have been different. And, not to sound cocky, but he was pretty proud of the person he’d become.

‘’If I say yes, we wouldn’t be the same people we are now. Our mistakes and decision makes who we are, who we became,’’ Jens responded, insightfully. ‘’So, no. I wouldn’t change a thing.’’

‘‘I see your point, but I’d still tempt my fate to make a couple changes.”

‘’I still feel bad for dating you behind her back and while you two were still together. I was ultimate friendship betrayal.’’ She looked down, thinking about how much pain it had caused her best friend. Poor Britt had luck with the cheater boyfriends... ‘’I should’ve kissed you before her.’’

Jens snickered a laugh, unable to believe her. ‘’How would you have done that? You were way too shy and always hiding in Britt’s shadow.’’

Jana raised her eyebrows. ‘’Oh yeah? Remind me who kissed you first at the Christmas party?’’

She uncrossed her legs and crawled over to Jens, passing one leg over his waist, straddling him, and pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss. Jens’s tongue slipped between her parted lips, his hands finding the back of Jana’s sweater while Jana’s slid under his, kneading at his toned stomach.

The door opened, interrupting the teenagers.

‘’Jens, can you help me with-’’ The brunette girl stopped dead in her tracks, frowning when seeing a familiar face on her brother’s bed...on top of Jens. ‘’Jana?’’ There was uncertainty in her voice mixed with excitement.

The latter quickly removed herself from Jens’ lap, slightly embarrassed, and sat next to him instead. This was awkward… ''Hi, Lotte.’’ Jana grinned at the little girl. ‘’Haven’t seen you in so long. You’ve gotten so big.’’

Although things were going well between them, there was still factors that made Jens not want to get back together with his ex. And, as much as Lotte liked Jana, he didn't want to let her in too much. She was sad when Jens announced that Jana and him were over; it was best if she wasn’t too involved. He also didn't see himself explaining their relationship status to his eight years old sister.

Sitting up, Jens broke the interaction. ''Lotte, please leave us alone, will you? Go play with your dolls or something.'' He fixed his shirt so it wasn’t exposing his stomach anymore.

Unlike Jana, Jens didn’t only have his parents to worry about when making out with someone in his bedroom. He also had a little sister that didn’t understand the importance of knocking before walking into a room - nor the concept of privacy.

Lotte frowned. ‘’But, you said you’d help me with my multiplication…’’

‘’I’ll help you later. When Jana goes home, okay?’’

.

Wednesday, January 15th

It was almost 10pm when Jens descended to the kitchen to get a drink. He was working on a History assignment with Robbe via Facetime and it was taking them so long. History was neither of the boys’ forte.

The house was quiet since it was so late at night. The lights illuminating the staircase were dimmed, just bright enough to prevent someone from tripping on a misplaced shoe or stray sock.

Almost on the ground floor, Jens saw a light in the living room, coming from a small lamp. Jens frowned. He got closer and saw his mother's sleeping figure in the armchair. A sad smile formed on his lips. She must've fallen asleep there on accident, judging by the abandoned book laying open on her lap.

‘’Mom,’’ Jens said, gently shaking her awake on the armchair.

He felt bad for waking her, knowing that she needed rest after working all those long shifts at the hospital, but her neck would hurt later if she stayed there.

‘’Mom,’’ he tried again.

This time, her eyes fluttered open, slowly waking. She squinted her eyes in the light of the lamp. ‘’Jens?’’ She looked around, realizing that she fell asleep in the living room. ‘’How long was I out for?’’

‘’I don’t know, I just came down. I figured you’d be more comfortable in your bed.’’

Fenna smiled and nodded. ‘’Good idea. I have to be up early tomorrow.’’

‘’I thought Thursday was your off day?’’

‘’It is. But the bills are piling up and your dad....’’ She sighed, looking away.

Jens took a seat on the couch next to the armchair. ‘’I take it his job interview didn’t go well.’’

‘’I don’t know what to do anymore. Taxes are coming and I can’t take more shifts. I come home exhausted from double shifts and still, it isn't enough.’’ Fenna sighed, dropping her head in her hands in both despair and exhaustion. ‘’I knew it would be difficult to make ends meet when your dad lost his job, but I didn’t plan on neglecting you and your sister so much. We barely spend time together anymore, I miss it. I feel bad…’’

‘’We do spend time together, we cooked dinner on Monday.’’

His mom gave him a look. ‘’Chatting about our day over peeling carrots isn’t what I call spending time with my kids.’’

Jens shrugged, laughing. ‘’It still counts for me.’’

‘’I’m not sure your sister would say the same.’’

‘’You’re doing all you can, Mom.’’

.

Thursday, January 16th

The boys were playing Fortnite in Jens' bedroom, yelling at the TV at each wrong move. They had ordered pizza, the almost-empty boxes resting on the dresser with drinks surrounding them.

With his mom still at work and his dad out with Lotte at her weekly dance class, the teenager took full advantage of their absence by inviting his friends over to play video games. It’d been a while since they all met to hang out, one of them always busy with their significant other - mostly Robbe.

Moyo was really good, kicking Aaron's ass every time. It was amusing to watch him lose and rake his brain for the dumbest excuses, trying to justify his loss. Sore loser. Robbe's skills had decreased, now more keen on spending time with Sander than playing video games. He's in love, could you blame him?

'Game over' flashed across the screen, lettingAaron know he’d died. He gasped, shocked by his friend's betrayal. ''What the fuck, bro? We're on the same team!''

Jens shrugged, eyes focused on the screen. ''You were slowing me down.''

''I was covering for you and you shot me. Fucking traitor...''

''Covering for me? I almost got killed twice because of you.''

Aaron bickered back, defending himself again, but Jens wasn’t listening; this made Moyo laugh. If Robbe’s nose wouldn’t have been glued to his phone, he would’ve laughed too.

It was good to have everyone together again and not have to think of a video idea or film for the vlog channel. They love doing vlogs, but hanging out and playing Fortnite was nice too. A distraction and some fun with his friends was exactly what Jens needed right now. It was nice to take a break and not have to think about his problems for a couple of hours. Jens could always count on the boys to turn some of his worries into laughter.

Even though Jens was trying his best to distract himself, his family’s problems were still in the back of his mind. Amidst the laughter, his mom's exhausted face from constant worry and overworking herself flashed across his mind.

Jens wished he could help - more than he already did - take some worries off her shoulders, but the balance in his bank account wasn’t even in the double digits. He thought about getting a job, but it would complicate things since his shifts would be on the weekend and after school and he wouldn't be able to help with Lotte as much. His parents needed that help.

Minutes later, Jens died and it was time to switch players. He handed his controller to Moyo. Aaron’s went to Robbe, but the latter’s phone rang before they could start the game.

Robbe frowned and apologized. ‘’It’s my mom. I have to answer.’’ He stood, leaving Jens’ room to talk somewhere quiet and private.

Aaron stood too, putting his controller on the bed. ‘’I’m gonna go pee. The beer is starting to hit me. Don’t cheat while I’m gone,’’ he said, warning Jens and Moyo.

“Says the cheater himself,” Moyo retorted with a snort while standing up to get another drink - a can of coke, this time. It was a school night and Moyo doubted his mom would let it slide if he came home drunk on a Thursday. He opened the drink and sat back on the bed, sighing, still feeling full from the pizza slices he ate earlier. ''That last one was a mistake.''

Beside him, Jens let out a short laugh.

Fidgeting with his hands, he glanced out of his bedroom door, checking if they boys were out of sight. He had meant to ask Moyo something and, with Robbe on the phone and Aaron in the bathroom, it was the perfect time. It was nothing embarrassing, Jens just didn't want Robbe to overhear his question and think too much or Aaron to be all up in his business.

''Can I have your weed guy's number?''

Moyo raised his eyebrows, surprised by Jens' question. ''What for?'' He took a sip of his coke. ''I can bring you a couple grams tomorrow if you want. I don't mind.''

Jens shook his head. ''Erm, no. I want to buy some for myself. It's not fair for you to pay for everyone's weed.''

Moyo shot him a skeptical look but shared his dealer's number.

.

Friday, January 17th

Jens was getting ready for tonight’s party, trying to fix his hair - that one piece was so annoying - before meeting the boys at Robbe’s. His backpack was ready for the night, filled with beers and a bottle of cheap vodka. It tasted awful, but it did a good job at getting you drunk.

Slipping on his red hoodie, Jens grabbed his phone to check the time when a notification caught his attention.

vanderheijden.lucas is now following you

He opened the notification and smiled. Lucas. As in the new boy Lucas? The Dutch boy with the beautiful eyes and the cocky grin?

A peek at his feed told Jens that Lucas was a selfie person. His bright blue eyes stood out on some of these shots. Like, wow. There were pictures of his friends, too. One of the two had longer hair and mild-toned skin, and the other had a shorter haircut.

As Jens scrolled down Lucas’s pictures, he noticed a red ‘1’ on the paper plane icon in the right corner of his phone, signalling a new DM. Raising his eyebrows, Jens clicked on it.

vanderheijden.lucas Hi

jensrolt Hi 😊

vanderheijden.lucas I found your Instagram. Hope you don’t mind!

jensrolt I would’ve made it private if I did...and I’m always looking for more fans

jensrolt Are you coming tonight?

vanderheijden.lucas I’m assuming it’s a party you’re asking about, but I’m in Utrecht…

Jens raised his eyebrows.

A part of him was hoping to see Lucas tonight, but now he was a bit disappointed. The brunet’s flirty wink from last Friday was floating in the back of Jens' mind, just like the feeling in his stomach when their knees brushed under the table at the café. Jens didn’t know what it all meant, but he was curious to see what Lucas would do next.

jensrolt What’s in Utrecht?

Lucas was from the Netherlands, Jens knew that, but why was he going back? Was he visiting the boy he saw in the pics, the one with dark hair and mid-toned skin? They seemed pretty close - a bit too close forJens’ taste. He almost clicked on the guy’s face to see if he was tagged, but realized how stalker-ish that was.

That didn’t stop him from staring at Lucas’ beautiful blue eyes. They seemed brighter in every new pic. His scrolling was interrupted when a notification popped up at the top of his screen: a new message from vanderheijden.lucas.

vanderheijden.lucas I’m visiting my mom. It’s her weekend. The joy of having divorced parents…

Lucas’ sarcasm made Jens laugh, his lips curling into a smile.

vanderheijden.lucas I’ll be there next friday though. If there’s a party

jensrolt There’s ALWAYS a party

vanderheijden.lucas Save me a drink? 😉

Eyebrows pulled, Jens brought his phone closer to his face. A winky emoji?

Before he could analyse the message further, Jens’ phone flashed with Robbe’s name.

Shit. The pre-game. He’d totally forgotten about that.

‘’I’m on my way,’’ he told his best friend, hanging up and bolting out of his bedroom.

[notalwaysthevillian]

Parent Trapped

Warnings: knife mention (pocket knife), general anxiety

Pairings: Eventual Romantic Remile, platonic LAMP

Word Count: ~3.2k

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Chapter 1: Moving In

Patton Picani stared out the car window as they drove through their new town. He was careful to keep his excitement down so that he wouldn’t wake up his sleeping brother. He’d been so nervous about moving that he hadn’t slept at all the previous night, only to pass out as soon as they’d gotten in the car.

The moving van was leading their way through town. Patton could see a few kids his age looking at the van, probably wondering who the new people were. He hoped they were friendly!

“What do you think, Pat?” His dad asked from the front seat.

“I like this place.” Patton’s glasses clinked against the window as he pressed his face against it. “It’s a lot smaller than Elmville.”

“Hopefully it’s easier for V.”

There was some shifting in the seat backseat as Virgil finally woke up. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, panicking as he realized he was in the car.

Patton quickly reached over, grabbing his hand and rubbing soothing circles into the skin. “It’s okay V. It’s moving day, remember?”

There was only a slight release of tension in his shoulders. With the hand Patton wasn’t holding onto, Virgil flipped up his hood.

Shortly after, Emile pulled into the driveway of their house. The moving van parked by the curb and a few workers hopped out, heading for the back.

“You boys ready to work?” Emile asked as the three of them got out of the car.

They both nodded, Patton clearly more excited than Virgil.

Grabbing the boxes labelled ‘kitchen’, Emile set them on their island. “If you boys could get the kitchen set up, that would be a huge help. The movers and I will get the bigger furniture inside, so when you guys are done with that you can set up your rooms. When we’re exhausted, we’ll order some pizza.”

Virgil pulled out his pocket knife, slicing open the tape on the box. He and Patton immediately dug inside as their father left the room.

“What if we don’t like it here?” Virgil asked as they started putting mugs in a cabinet.

Patton pulled their favorites out, leaving them off to the side for later. “I think we will. You were asleep when we came through most of town, but everything is really close. The library is only a few blocks from here, we could walk to it every day. And there’s a cafe right across from it in case we get hungry.”

Virgil nodded, but Patton could tell he wasn’t convinced. He had that look in his eye that he got when he was worried about something, but he didn’t want to talk about it.

Instead of pressing the issue, Patton slid over the next box. “Can you open that one?”

The two quickly formed a rhythm. Virgil would open the box and decide where the items went. Patton would start emptying it as Virgil moved to the next box. When Patton could no longer reach, Virgil would take over, his few extra inches allowing him to just reach the top shelves in the cabinets.

It took them all morning to completely unpack the kitchen. The refrigerator was still empty, but all of their dishes were now in their proper places, as well as the cleaning supplies under the sink.

After stacking the boxes, they started looking for their dad.

“All done already?” He asked when they found him in the master bedroom. “I knew I picked the right ones for the job.”

“This is the last of it.” One of the movers said, wiping sweat from his brow.

Emile immediately grabbed his wallet. “Let me walk you out. Boys, you can work on your bedrooms if you like. If you’re too tired, just get out some clothes for tomorrow and throw some sheets on your beds.”

The two boys looked at each other before darting down the hall. They found each of their rooms with ease. Patton had a canopy bed, easily distinguished from Virgil’s more modern bedframe.

“Look at your window seat!” Patton bounced on his toes. “When it rains we can make a blanket fort in here.”

“We definitely have enough materials for that.” Virgil said, a small smile starting to form. “You have direct view of the driveway, Pat.”

“Good! I’ll know if any of our friends come over.”

Virgil sat on his window seat, wrapping his arms around his legs. “Pat...what if no one wants to be my friend?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Virgil shot his brother a look, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes.

“V, anxiety is something a lot of people have.” Patton sat across from his brother, nothing but truth shining in his eyes as he repeated what he’d heard their dad say a few times. “It’s not something to be ashamed about. And if people don’t like you for that, then it’s their loss because I think you’re awesome.”

The edges of Virgil’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “Thanks Pat.”

“Hug?”

Truly smiling now, Virgil slid into his brother’s arms, the pressure calming him down almost immediately.

“Boys?”

“In here!” They called out in unison.

Emile walked in, peering through his glasses at his phone. “What kind of pizza do you want? They have a coupon for two one-topping pizzas and a liter of soda.”

“Pepperoni!”

“Sausage!”

Emile laughed. “Alright, pepperoni and sausage it is. I’ll get some Sprite for all of us, is that okay?”

“Yep!”

While they waited for the pizza, Virgil and Patton did a little bit of unpacking.

Virgil made his bed and grabbed his clothes for the next day, before digging through his boxes and finding his weighted blanket.

Patton did the same, but opted to start putting some of his clothes away.

When they heard the doorbell ring, they both headed downstairs, Virgil wearing his blanket over his shoulders.

Emile took the pizzas and handed them to the boys before giving the delivery driver a generous tip. “Thank you very much.”

“No problem sir.” The driver said, eyes widening at the tip. “Have a nice night.”

“You as well!”

By the time Emile got into the kitchen, Patton and Virgil already had pizza on their plates.

“I don’t have the cable set up yet, but I did set up the router.” Emile said as he grabbed a few slices. “We can watch something on Netflix.”

Patton looked over at Virgil. “Anything in particular you want to watch?”

“Just something relaxing.”

Heading into the living room, Patton grabbed the remote and pulled up The Great British Bake Off. “Is this good?”

“It’s perfect.” Virgil leaned back into their new couch, loving how soft it was. He rearranged his blanket on his shoulders as Patton picked a season to watch.

After finishing their pizza, Emile gathered their plates. Patton roused a nearly asleep Virgil, helping him to his feet.

“C’mon, V, we’ve had a long day.” He started leading his brother to their bedrooms. “Let’s get some rest.”

Half dragging Virgil, Patton got them upstairs. Virgil snuggled closer to him when they got upstairs.

“Did you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Patton whispered.

Virgil nodded, his eyelids drooping again.

“Go put on some pajamas.”

By the time Emile finished cleaning up and checked in on his sons, they were curled up on Patton’s bed. He smiled at their sleeping forms before flicking on the hall light and mostly closing the door.

Knowing the boys were safe and sound, he headed to his room, opting to watch some Parks and Rec on his laptop before he joined his sons in a peaceful slumber.

The next morning, Emile rose bright and early, like he always did. He took a quick shower before deciding to go for a walk around the neighborhood. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, painting the houses in a beautiful golden glow.

As he rounded the corner, he nearly bumped into small woman who had her hair neatly tied up in a ponytail, blonde waves cascading down her back.

“Pardon me!” He said, moving to the side.

Instead of continuing on, she stopped, pulling her headphones out of her ears. “Sorry, I don’t normally run into anyone on my morning walks. This neighborhood is full of night owls. It’s nice to meet another early bird!”

“Same here.” Emile held out a hand. “I’m Emile Picani. My sons and I just moved in.”

“Oh!” The woman shook his hand, flashing him a big smile. “You’re our new neighbors. I’m Juliet Task. My husband and I have a set of triplets. They’re sophomores at the high school.”

Emile couldn’t help but match her happy energy. “My sons will be starting on Monday! They’re freshman.”

“Did you guys need any help unpacking? My husband and I try to keep our Sundays open in case the kids need any homework help, but we could spare a few hours.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

Juliet shook her head, a stern look on her face. “Nonsense! Our last neighbors were shut ins, I’m not allowing that to happen to someone as lovely as you. I’ll even bring over some dessert.”

Emile laughed. “That’s very kind of you, Juliet. You’re welcome at any time. Though my youngest does prefer to sleep in, and he’s had a bit of a rough move.”

“Poor thing.” Juliet put an earbud back in. “I’ll see you in a little while!”

“See you!”

Emile finished his walk, finding Patton in the kitchen when he came back in.

“I forgot we didn’t have anything in the fridge.” He said, his stomach punctuating the sentence with a growl.

Grabbing his keys, Emile said, “I’ll run to the store and grab some eggs and bread right now. Let Virgil know where I went if he wakes up, but I’ll be back in about five minutes.”

Patton headed back upstairs. He quietly unpacked a few more boxes, doing his best to not wake Virgil up.

The silence was ruined when he dropped a box on his foot and let out a yelp.

“Pat?” Virgil mumbled as he sat up. His normally straightened hair had started to curl overnight, pulling up and away from his eyes. “You okay?”

Patton opened the flaps of the box. “I’m fine! Just clumsy. Oh! Virgil, look!”

Patton pulled a small trophy out of the box. Virgil couldn’t help but smile, remembering how happy Patton had been when he’d gotten a trophy for ‘cutest smile’ in the fourth grade. Their whole class had voted, and since the winner had been unanimous, the teacher had bought a trophy. Of course, that had set off a whole slew of angry parents, but Patton didn’t know that.

In fact, Virgil only knew that because he’d come to class early, anxious about being late, and had overheard the teacher on the phone. He’d never told Patton, knowing it would crush his spirit.

The two of them perked up as they heard the front door open, darting downstairs. Emile set the bag down on the kitchen counter, pulling out a carton of eggs, a loaf of bread, and a small package of bacon.

“I’ll go grocery shopping a little later, but I figure we can have this for breakfast and some leftover pizza for lunch.”

“Okay!”

Patton grabbed a frying pan off of their rack, twisting the knob on the stove to get the heat going. Virgil started peeling apart the bacon and getting it in the microwave. They’d had a few issues with cooking bacon in the pan before. After that, they agreed that it was safer to cook it in the microwave.

Emile threw some bread in the toaster, not pushing the levers down until Patton cracked the first egg.

Working in tandem, they got breakfast on the table. Each of them grabbed their plate, moving to the dining room table for this meal.

“So, I ran into a neighbor this morning on my walk.” Emile started, smearing butter on his toast. “She said she lives right next door to us, and offered to help us unpack some things. Her name is Juliet and she’s very nice.”

“Juliet is such a pretty name!” Patton took a bite of his bacon.

“Are you going to be alright if she brings her family over, Virgil?” Emile asked, looking at his younger son. “I can always tell her that you’re sleeping.”

Virgil chewed on his lower lip for a second. “Her whole family?”

“Yes, she talked about bringing over her husband and her triplets. But if you’re not going to feel comfortable -”

“I think I’ll be okay.” Virgil said, spreading the egg yolk around his plate. “I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

Almost as soon as the three of them had finished and cleaned up their breakfast, the doorbell rang. Emile opened it up, feeling his sons behind him.

Once more a pair of sparkling blue eyes shone up at him. “Is it too early?”

“Never.” Emile said, waving a hand. Virgil and Patton moved out of the way as the Task family entered the house.

A bigger man with dark skin who stood tall, compared to his tiny wife, held out a hand. “Brad Task. Juliet came home absolutely gushing about the polite new neighbor.”

As the adults got acquainted, Patton and Virgil had led the triplets into the living room.

The triplets all shared the same wavy black hair and green eyes, which made it harder to tell them apart.

“I’m Tanya!” One of them said, her grin showing off her dimples. “That’s Ted and that’s Trevor. Trevor is the one with the birthmark in case you need to tell them apart.”

“Nice to meet you guys!” Patton wiggled in place. “I’m Patton, and that’s Virgil. We’re twins!”

Virgil nodded, beside Patton, doing his best to look inviting.

Tanya tilted her head, looking at Virgil. “I like your hoodie. It looks really comfy.”

“It is.” Virgil flipped the hood up, anxiety getting the better of him. “It’s starting to get some holes in it though.”

“I could help!” Ted offered. “My mom’s been teaching me a little bit of sewing. She said that since I keep putting holes in my clothes, I should learn how to stitch them up.”

As the kids bonded in the living room, the adults walked in and started unpacking. Brad helped Emile get the cable set up while Juliet got the kids to help her unpack all the knick knacks.

“This is such a cute photo.” Juliet said, holding up a photo in a silver frame.

Patton and Virgil exchanged a quick look, before Patton spoke up. “That was taken just after we were born.”

“Where’s your mom now?” Tanya asked, before she covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry, that was - you don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it’s okay.” Emile said as he walked over. “Their mom was a wonderful person. Unfortunately, she passed away not long after the boys were born. There had been some complications during the birth and the doctors didn’t catch them in time.”

Tears shone in Emile’s eyes as he spoke. Patton and Virgil hugged him tightly.

“Do you miss her?” Trevor asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Emile nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Every day. But I know she’s watching over us, and that she’d want me to keep living life to the fullest.”

“That’s a very positive attitude to have.” Brad said, wrapping his arms around his wife and kissing the top of her head.

One slightly awkward silence later, they continued unpacking.

With the help of the Tasks, the Picanis had a functioning home in no time at all. The only boxes left to unpack were sitting in each of their bedrooms.

“I think it’s time for a break.” Juliet said as Brad and Emile came back in from recycling the boxes. “Who wants some chocolate cake?”

“ME!” The kids all shouted.

“That sounds delicious!”

Brad grinned at his wife. “She makes the absolute best desserts. I guess that’s why I’m a little more like Santa.”

“If that makes me Mrs. Claus, then I’m all for it.” She said, going up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss.

The triplets rolled their eyes in unison, making Patton giggle. Trevor leaned over to them. “They do this all the time and it’s so gross.”

“I think it’s sweet.” Tanya said. “But it is a bit gross.”

“Oh, hush.” Juliet walked over, grabbing a knife from Emile and slicing up the cake. “You’ll feel the same way when you’re older about a lucky guy.”

“Or girl.” Brad added on. “Or person. Whoever you end up with is going to be lucky to have you.”

“What if I want to be a cat lady?” Tanya asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Then we’ll love you just the same.”

Emile couldn’t help himself. “Awww, that’s sweet. And it’s great that you’re so accepting. Our last place we lived in wasn’t as...accommodating.”

Juliet’s happy smile vanished. “There’s still a few people in town who aren’t as open minded, but for the most part, the whole town is working on our acceptance. More and more of our kids are finding labels that fit them, so a lot of us are making an effort.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Despite Emile’s smile, there was a sadness in his eyes.

Brad and Juliet didn’t press the issue, instead enjoying the rest of the cake. When it was gone, they gathered up the cake pan and the kids.

“Thank you for all the help.”

Brad waved a hand in the air. “It was no problem at all.”

“Did you need the triplets to help your boys to the bus stop in the morning?” Juliet asked, hovering in the entryway.

Virgil’s eyes shot wide. Emile caught the look, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder. “That won’t be necessary, I’ll be taking the boys to school. It’s on my way to the office anyway.”

“No worries!” Juliet waved as she headed out the door after her kids. Brad followed right after, leaving the three of them in a now mostly unpacked, silent house.

Virgil immediately headed up to his room, mumbling something about ‘too much interaction’. Emile let him go, knowing that he needed a cool down before talking to anyone else for a while. Patton headed upstairs as well, hoping to unpack more of his stuff.

Looking at their empty fridge, Emile decided to take a trip to the grocery store. He popped his head upstairs to tell the boys were he was going before heading off.

With a general list of what he needed, as he was mostly getting the basics, he managed to power through the store. Just as he got to the checkout line, a man in a leather jacket stepped in front of him, throwing his items on the counter.

Emile bit his lip to keep from saying anything. After all, he didn’t know anyone but his neighbors. For all he knew, this guy was having a bad day, or maybe one of his kids was sick and he needed to get home quickly.

As the man gathered up his groceries, he finally looked at Emile. “Thanks for letting me cut babes.”

Flushing bright red, Emile was left speechless as the man left the store.

There’s currently no taglist to this fic, but if you’d like to be tagged you can find the link to my taglist here. It can only be edited on desktop, so if you’re on mobile just send an ask to my inbox!

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[goshwrites]

business (yandere x reader) 1

warnings: swearing, ageplaying, obsession, unhealthy relationships

word count: 2.9 

A/N: still not completely my best writing oof but here we go

taglist: (none as of yet since i’m keeping the taglist for the ben solo blurb separate from this one)

  You know how like in some novels things happen right away one after another? Like the very next day or something?  Well that didn't happen with you.  The day after the whole fiasco with Romeo and Juliette... things were pretty chill. Boss of course seemed just a little agitated, but that was normal in your opinion since well... she always had a resting bitch face. Always. And then it was two days after it.  Still nothing. You somehow got hit in the head with a paper ball that was thrown so badly it flew over the small wall that separated the cubicles instead of the trashcan. Yeah. That person's aim was horrible, but eh. They offered you chocolate once so you were cool.  Three days after everything still was kind of cool. Someone's phone kept buzzing the Backstreet Boy's song I Want It That Way and of course any reasonable person would sing along with it which of course was you.  Then four- well that was Saturday. And that was your glorious dayoff of going to the store and getting facial masks.  And fifth was Sunday and with that you mostly chilled while working on editing your paper.  Six was... Monday to say the least.  No comment.  And then what do you know? A whole week went by the incident and it seemed that no one even remembered or cared or just... were even awake to see it.    Tuesday started out kind of nice. You didn't do that annoying thing of where you wake up like ten minutes before your alarm and then you try to go back to sleep because hey it's way too early but then you can't because anxiety and you spent like seven minutes inwardly arguing with your anxiety and before you know it- it's time to get up.  But that didn't happen. That happened on Monday, yes, but Tuesday? Nah you woke up to the beautiful bliss of birds using their vocal cords and like some violins playing in the background. Over all it was nice.  And you got a cheese bagel at your nearby bagel shop because they're everywhere.    You greeted the security man that stood by the door with a 'good morning' on your way into the large building that also housed other companies like some kind of shoe company and like maybe one of Jojo's bowties? You really didn't know and didn't really wanna know. You walked out of the elevator of the floor you were on and proceeded to make your way to your cubicle. You sat down with the rolling chair moving backwards a tad before you reached out and got out your laptop from the beach bag. You were just typing in the password and going to your documents when you heard a soft, "Good morning," from your left and you look over to the opening to see Ben standing there. A small grin came onto your face at seeing the dark skinned male.  "It is this time." You mused while thinking back on your grumpy mood yesterday. He chuckled while flashing that pearly white grin of his.  "And am I not glad for that?"  "Oh shut up." You said playfully towards the male as you brought up your latest project on your computer.  He just chuckled and shook his head as if he just knew that you wouldn't pull through on your threat. And well he was right.  "Uh huh. Anyways since you're in a better mood, I was thinking we could like go out for lunch?" He suggested with a shrug as you looked back up at him. He always liked to wear bright colors since he could always pull them off so well, so today he was wearing a neon yellow t-shirt and washed-out jeans. You weren't really wearing anything special. Just blue jeans, (f/c) shirt, and some converse so eh. Nothing special or extraordinary. Just the way you liked it.  But somehow Ben always looked nice in everything he wore.  You decided to just shove your writing abilities to the back of your mind as you pretended to think about it.  "Hmmmm. I don't know. I don't really know if I like you or not." You said while stroking your chin as if there was a beard there. He chuckled and shook his head.  "Awww. Come on, (N/n). I know you do and you know you love me." He practically whined to you with a childish pout making you giggle.  "Of course I love you. You're one of the few people that are tolerable here." You told him with a grin and a shake of my head.  'You know you love me' was that one inside joke between the two of you. Whenever one just wasn't budging on something for whatever reason the other would always play that card. And usually it worked.  He was probably about to say something about being offended by that statement, but your little bicker was irrupted.  "(L/n)! My office!" You heard your last name being called out causing you to sit up right in your chair. And there standing at her office was Boss. Now Boss... was an interesting woman. One, she was born and raised in Liberia until her family moved here causing her to have a very strong accent. Two, she was very... well... blunt. She was like the Simon Cowell or Gordon Ramsey of writing. And three, even though her natural hair was black, she had dyed it a sort of burgundy red that stuck out like on a traffic light.  But you've never been called to her office before. Not unless it was for another project. But... you were working on a project. So why did she call you?    You forced yourself to rise from the rolling chair before you took in a deep breath. Just... don't jump around conclusions. You and Ben shared a look of mutual look of worry and confusion before you forced yourself to walk out and into the hallway. Others had already stopped typing to give you the look of 'uh oh' as you walked. Honestly you felt like you were going to your own funeral at these somber looks. But alas you reached the glass down of Boss's office. It was that type of office from Superman of where the walls were glass. You had to admit, you liked it.  But at the moment you kinda wished the walls were concrete so no one could see you get fired. Wait.  Fired? Now that started the anxiety ball rolling.  But before you could turn away and maybe act like you were too sick to come to her office, she saw you and simply waved you in. Those glass walls. Traitors.   You took in a deep breath and entered into the carpeted office room. Besides being all fancy with her name on the door in a sort of Instagram font, Boss had a reddish, dark brown wooden desk with four small drawers on each side at the top, and two large drawers at the bottom. The desk was definitely an expensive one since the handles for the drawers had designs on them. Overall Boss just causally flexed with the desk.  And the carpet was like really comfy too as you shifted on it sort of nervously. Boss just looked at you before she picked up a Rubik Cube and just twirled it in her hand. She looked down at the multiple colors as she mixed the cube up.  And finally easing the growing of your anxiety- she spoke.  "Sit down, (L/n)." Obediently you sat down in the brown, leather chair that actually fit very well with the desk. She waited a few moments as if she was waiting to see if you were comfortable before she spoke again. "Do you remember what happened last week?" What? What happened? What week? Last week?  What happened last week?  You had no fucking idea.  But were you gonna admit that? Hell no.  "Yes, I do." You told her with a nod to make it seem like you weren't an idiot.  "Well, today... I got the phone call from Stevie saying that she and Issac have gone back to his home town to get married."  Wait... who? Then... ohhh yeeaaaah.  Last week... those two. Right.  "Wow. They didn't waste any time, huh?" You said while acting like you had an excellent memory of all things at all time. Yup.  No dummy here.  But that kinda brought up a question... why was she telling you this?  "No, they did not." She said with a shake of her head before she leaned forward in her seat. "But.. I'm sure you're wondering why I am telling you this." You nodded at her words and she took this as a cue to continue. "Well... I assigned Stevie to an assignment that I thought that she was ready for, but now that she's getting married... well... I will need someone else for it."  Huh. Why was she telling you this?  Then... wait... oh. Oh.  "You... want me for the assignment?" You asked as you couldn't hide the surprise that leaked into your voice.  Huh. So obviously you weren't the first choice, but at least you were the second. Better than none, right?  "If you will take it." Boss responded with a shrug as she looked down at the Rubik Cube while simultaneously solving it and speaking. Woah.  "Well I mean uh- I would love too, Boss. But..." You briefly trailed off as you shifted in the leather seat.  "Just what is the assignment?"  "It's actually an interview." An interview? Now... that is something you did not have that much experience on. Who would you be interviewing? Harry Styles?  Oh now that would be great. (But sadly this isn't a 1D fanfic) "Well uh... I don't really have that much experience with like journalism and like interviews." You awkwardly confessed as you scratched your head. "But... who is it?"  Boss paused as she stopped almost... completing the Rubik Cube. What. How did she that so fast? But your confessed and amazed eyes moved back up to Boss whenever she answered your question with, "Edward Gimmens." Then... wait.  Edward Gimmens… as in... that really rich guy?  That Edward Gimmens? You just stared at your Boss in amazement as she finished the Rubik Cube. But you weren't amazed by her skill- okay yes you were actually- but more with the fact as... "How... did you get an interview slot with him?"  As far as you knew the philanthropist, billionaire, and whatever he had on his resume didn't do interviews for magazines that centered around Millenniums and Gen-Zs. He did it for those really big and out there magazines, you know?  "Well, believe it or not, he came to us. But that is not important. You'll have to come up with your questions and such, but you can use Stevie's notes." She said as she set the cube down and pulled out a folder out from her desk.  You blinked a few times at her rapid explanation as just.. woah. "But of course that's if you are taking the job."  That... was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Or the billion in this case. Ha, ha, ha.  "I... well... I... what makes you think I can do this?" You found the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop them. Uh- uh- uh- "Of course I am grateful you offered it to me, but umm... why?" You quickly added as to not seem rude.  "Well... Stevie was my first choice since she's done work like this before." Boss began with a shrug as she leaned back against the chair. "But when she had to go... well... you just popped into my head as the next capable person to do this."  You? Capable? You still got anxiety with ordering your own meal. "You... think I can do this?" You asked hesitantly and in an unsure way as your (e/c) eyes met Boss's. She smiled just a tad before she leaned forward.  "(L/n)… I see potential in you. You're a good writer and you know how to set a pace right in whatever you write. You're just... how do I put this? Not confident in your abilities. So... I'm giving you the old... shove-you-out-of-the-airplane thing."  That... did not sound ideal. Not at all. But still you slowly nodded your head.  "All right. Thanks, Boss, I'm honored you think so highly of me, but umm... can I have some time to think about it?"  "Ah yes. Of course, of course. Take as much time as you need." She said while waving her hand in the air and with her accent sort of slurring her words together making the 'course' sound like 'close.'  "But just not too much time. This does need to be written, you know."  You nodded before you stood up from the comfy chair.  "I'll... let you know by Friday." You decided on that day while your anxiety told you in one ear that you won't be able to decide by then and your self worth was whispering how she would find someone else in that time period. Fun times.  "That is good, (L/n). I'll be awaiting for your answer." She said with a nod as she stood up as well. You couldn't help, but slightly smile at the way she worded things. "And ah! Just in case you do decide to take the job, here is the notes Stevie had." She said while picking up the folder she had brought onto her desk previously. She handed it to you and you took it from her dark and freckled hands.  "Just read it over and see what you think."  "I will Boss. Thanks." 

  With one final goodbye and wave to Boss, you exited out of the office and back down the hall to your cubicle.

So... you weren't getting fired? You actually kind of got promoted in a way? I mean, if you did this interview right... others would be put on your desk. 

But this was Edward Gimmens, the CEO of Gimmens Incorporated. This was a man who's spent nearly three decades in making his name known in whatever way.

He was a well known and looked up to man in whatever he did. Whether it be taking mankind steps closer to having flying cars or what he was most known for, and you found it a little humorous, cosmetics. 

Yes that's right.

The philanthropist, inventor, and very rich guy was famous for his makeup. Somehow he had figured out a way to have any foundation or concealer or blush fit exactly to your skin tone. Instead of having to make a formula for each different skin tone, he was somehow able to make one for all. Needless to say, the product instantly became a favorite around the world. Even you had tried it once, and contrary to what you expected, it somehow blended perfectly. 

He was like the Willy Wonka of makeup. And you were suppose to interview him. 

  You sat back down on your rolling chair with a huff. But should you take it? It was a great- like really great- opportunity for you and the magazine. Of course Boss can always get somebody else, but still. 

It was great and big and perfect, but... also stressing. You were going to have to come up with questions... but Stevie did leave behind notes for you. And thinking of the notes- you had the folder. 

You set it on your desk before you opened it up to see the Instagram font that was Stevie's handwriting. 

Man. You'd probably kill someone for being able to write that elegantly.

You read over what she had so far in her notes and you had to admit that she had some pretty good ideas of what she wants to ask. You bit your lip and decided to close the folder for now. 

Hmm. Maybe... just maybe, this won't be so bad.

But of course- you needed another person's opinion on this. 

"Hey, Ben?" You decided to speak up over the clicking keyboards to your cubicle mate. 

"Yeah?" Came his one worded reply.

"I would love to go to lunch with you."

And even though you couldn't see it, you knew he was smiling.

[fromsolowithlove]

Rey is tired AF.

So is my brain from all the tangents it keeps running off on.

AKA whoops I wrote a fluffy one shot instead of updating my WIP.

In Need of Convincing ~3000 words. Rating: Teen & up? I mean...it’s fluff.

Rey loves her job as a kindergarten teacher but also loves being able to be an adult. Her nights and weekends are hers and Ben's, and she wants to keep it that way. After visiting her classroom, Ben has to disagree. He's got a case of baby fever and will do anything it takes to convince Rey to change her mind.

Read on AO3 or just expand here 👇🏽

Monday

     Rey stumbled into her classroom and threw her bags onto the floor. She picked up a stray crayon that she had nearly tripped over.  Suddenly, her phone buzzed.

     Grrr. Who’s bothering me right now? She looked down to see a new text message.

     Sweetheart...did you need this bag full of beads, clay, and kindling that says “IMPORTANT! DO NOT FORGET”?

     “SHIT,” she exclaimed. She knew she had forgotten something.

     Sorry. Yes… she responds.

     Rey sighed with relief when she read her husband’s response.

     When do you need it by? I have a meeting this morning but can be there right after lunch. Is that alright?

     Thank you so much! LOVE YOU. DON’T FORGET IT.

     The morning went by in a blur as it always did. Rey never got used to the feeling of being hit by the natural disaster that was five-year-olds. Now that they were back in from lunch, she could start her internal countdown for the day. She slumped herself into the corner of the room. It was the safest place to watch as the students argued over whose blue crayon was bluer.

     Suddenly, the door squeaked open. A tall man with hair like onyx walked in. In comparison with the kiddy-sized tables and chairs, he looked even more out of place than usual.

     “Mrs. Solo? Who’s that?” a student shouted.

     “My helper!” she said as her face lit up.

     Ben stood there awkwardly as a crowd began to form around him.

     "He’s really tall,” said a small girl with black pigtails. She turned to Ben. “Are you a tree? Or like...a basketball player?”

     “Definitely not,” Ben snorted.

     “What do we call you Mr. tall guy?”

     “Uhh...Mr. Ben will be fine,” Rey answered.

     “Mr. Ben! MR. BEN! MR. BEN!” The students started chanting his name and Ben blushed. He hadn’t even done anything. He could get used to this.

     “Mr. Ben. Why are you here?” asked Grayson.

     “Uhh...to make a special delivery to Mrs. Solo.”

     “Oooooh. What kind of stuff did you bring her?”

     “Is it a puppy?!” another student added.

     “It’s a puppy!” someone else copied.

     “No! It’s the guinea pig we asked for!” cried the one with pigtails.

     “Noooooo,” Rey dragged out. “You’ll see in just a bit. But we ARE very happy that Mr. Ben was able to stop by, aren’t we class?”

     “Yeah!”

     “Can you stay with us?” Dax asked.

     “Umm. I don’t think so. Mr. Ben actually has another job, which is VERY important. So he can’t -”

     Ben cut her off. “Yeah, I can stay,” he said.

     She raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure Mr. Ben? We’ve still got TWO hours of school left,” she warned.

     “I’m sure. That is if you don’t mind the help, Mrs. Solo?”

     “Oh. Trust me. We never turn down help in kindergarten.”

     The next two hours went by, and Ben had been relegated to helping distribute the beads and clay. By the end of the day, his fingers were tacky and half his head was braided, thanks to all the girls. Rey quickly snapped a photo to ensure she’d never forget how ridiculous he looked.

     Ben began cleaning the floor of stray materials. He watched his wife lovingly as she dismissed the students to their families.

     “Well. That was certainly quite the day,” she said.

     “It was. I don’t know how you do it.”

     “I don’t know. The same way you do your job. It’s teaching. I mean, it wipes me out and they’re  absolutely  crazy, but it’s what I love to do.”

     Ben smiled and walked over to kiss her forehead. “Let me cook dinner for you tonight. You deserve it.”

      They enjoyed a night together over their favorite combo of dill carrots & salmon. Most nights, Rey was home earlier and prepared their dinners by default. Ben,  however, was definitely the better cook between the two. They sat on the couch as Rey kept scrolling through the TV menu for something to watch.

     “Please don’t hate me, but can we watch The Real Housewives of Galactic City? I can’t do anything cerebral right now. I need something mindless, something  terribly  overacted.”

     “Anything you want,” Ben said.

     They sat on the couch, with Rey amused by the mess of a show she had chosen, and Ben amused by his happy-go-lucky wife. Rey reached for her wine glass and frowned when she was met by emptiness.

     She moved to get up, but Ben took it from her hands. He got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen. Upon returning, he dropped the biggest bomb in the most nonchalant manner. “ I think  we should start trying for kids.”

     “WHAT?” Rey whipped her head toward her husband, shock frozen on her face. “What made you think about THAT?”

     “Being in your classroom today.  I think it’s time.” he shrugged.

     “Are you kidding?! Were we even in the same classroom?! They’re monsters, Ben!”

     “You once called me that, too” he smirked.

     “It’s different! I don’t have to remind you not to put everything in your mouth!”

     “No, you don’t.  I think  you quite like it when I put everything in my mouth.”

     “Ben. This isn’t funny. I’m serious! I spend time with kids all day. I don’t think I could spend all night with a kid, too.”

     “It would be different.”

     “How, Ben?”

     “It would be ours.”

     “It would be a living, breathing child. Not an ‘it’. SEE! We’re definitely not ready.”

     “Will you at least think about it?”

     “Sure”, she resigned. “But, I”m not budging.”

  Tuesday

     The next day, Rey woke up and stumbled over to the kitchen island. Ben was there poring over his emails. He had already gone on his run, showered, and eaten. She hated him.

     He pushed a coffee and note in her direction without lifting his eyes from his laptop. She eyed it suspiciously.

Reason #1 why Rey & Ben should have a baby:

Because they love each other.

     “Wow, Ben. As sweet as this is - I haven't even had my coffee yet. Slow it down, big guy. Also, this is doing absolutely nothing to convince me. I know that you’ll love me no matter what.”

     “That’s true.”

     “Even if we don’t have a child.”

     “Also true.”

     “Case closed.”

 Wednesday

     The following morning, Ben left for his office early. Rey walked into the empty kitchen and yawned. A coffee tumbler with a bright orange sticky-note caught her eye.

Reason #2 why Rey & Ben should have a baby:

You have really good genes. And the world deserves to have them preserved.

     She pulled out her phone to text her husband. Flattery will get you nowhere, Ben.

      Reason #3 came later that night in the form of an email.

 Hello sweetheart,

     I’m stuck waiting for this conference call to end, but  just  thought you should know:

Reason #3 why Rey & Ben should have a baby:

Because you wouldn’t let us get a puppy.

      Rey pulled up their chat and considered whether he would get in trouble for being on his laptop while on a call. She figured he had emailed her first and took the risk.

R: We do have a puppy, his name is Chewie.

B: He’s a dog. Not a puppy.

R: And why would you want two of them?

B: I don’t. I want Chewie and a baby.

R: Your logic is lacking. Should I keep a plate warm for you?

B: Yes, please.

R: See you when you get home.

Friday Morning

     Thursday had gone by without Ben trying to convince Rey of their need to start a family. This was why Rey was shocked when he dropped an employee handbook on the bed before heading into the shower. It was flipped open to a highlighted section,  clearly meant for her attention. In the margins, he had scrawled a note. Reason #4 why Rey & Ben should have a baby: Ben would have to take paternity leave, which would mean more time at home together. Which Rey always complains about.

     She opened their bathroom door and peeked her head in. “Alright, Solo. You’re getting warmer. But I’m still a LONG way from saying yes.”

Friday Night

     That night, Rey put down her book and turned out her bedside light. She felt Ben snake his arms around her middle. He rubbed small circles against her stomach with his thumbs as she let out a soft moan. He leaned over and whispered into her ear.

     “Reason #5 why Rey and Ben should have a baby. The process of trying would be really fun.”

     She turned to face him,  barely able to make out his features in the dark. She slid her hands past his neck and into his dark locks. She pulled on his hair lightly, happy when he groaned in response. “What a cheap shot, Ben. You know my physical attraction to you is my weakness. But I do like where this is going. May I get a preview?”

     He didn’t need to be asked twice.

  Sunday Night

     Much of Saturday had gone by as an extended preview of just how fun trying to make a baby could be.  Ironically, that had left little time for Ben to convince Rey with more ideas. But after getting off the phone with Leia following their weekly call, he had a great idea.

     “Rey. Mom says hi. Also, I have one more reason to add to our list of why you should have a baby with me.”

     “Do your worst.”

     “My parents aren’t getting any younger. Don’t you want them to meet their grandchildren?”

     Rey punched him in his bicep. “OW!” he cried.

     “You  really  think guilt is  really  the best way to convince me?”

     “Well, the other ways weren’t working. And nothing I said was a lie…”

     “No. But now I’m just sad, Ben! And sad isn’t the proper emotional state for conceiving a child. TRY HARDER.”

Monday

     Rey sat in her classroom during lunch gnawing on a baby carrot. She had left her lunch at home and was forced to eat the cafeteria meal offered to the students. Still, food was food. Choosing to avoid the laughs, she brought the meal back to her classroom instead of eating in the lounge.

     Her phone buzzed. A photo loaded and she nearly dropped her phone from laughing so obnoxiously.

     There was her husband with a goofy smile across his face. She loved Ben's smile - she really did. But seeing it here when he tried so hard to hide it from others made the photo seem doctored. His expression simply didn’t match his crisp business wear or stark office. Also, a selfie was so not his style. Did he even know the term “selfie”? She read the text below the suspect photo.

Reason #7 why Rey & Ben should have a baby:

Because it would make Ben very very happy.

     She shoved another baby carrot in her mouth and began to type a response furiously.

     I told you to try harder, but instead, you’ve gone back to square one. The photo is lovely, but come on. Put that sharp Chief of Operations Officer mind to use. Make me a proposal I can’t refuse.

Tuesday

     Rey sprayed whipped cream into a mug for her nightly dessert. She raised a spoonful into her mouth as she watched Ben empty his pockets onto his nightstand. He pulled out a note and studied it until recognition washed over his face.

     The note was soon placed in front of Rey. Mouth still full of whipped cream, she opened it up. This wasn’t Ben’s handwriting, but it reeked of his intentions.

Reason #8 why Rey & Ben should have a baby:

Ben is dying.

     “WHAT IS THIS? BEN. YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS.”

     “If I were...would you want to have a baby with me?”

     “BEN.” She growled at him. If she weren’t so angry, he might’ve dared to laugh.

     “Ok, fine. You’re right. I’m not dying. I mean...in a way, we all are...but, not in the foreseeable future. But Poe and Hux said it was a good idea!”

     “AHA! THAT explains the handwriting. I’M GONNA KILL THEM BOTH! And then, I’m gonna come back and kill YOU.”

     He raised his hands in surrender and approached her like he would a rabid animal.

     “Truce?” he offered.

     “Pfft. You better sleep with one eye open, you snake.”

     She turned on her heel and placed her mug in the dishwasher before heading into their bedroom. When he didn’t follow her, she sent him a stare over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

     “Getting ready to take the couch?”

     She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t give you permission to do that. I’m angry and I don’t like you right now, but I still love you. Now, come cuddle with me before I change my mind."

 Wednesday

     By the time Rey returned home from school, Ben was already on the couch curled up with a book.

     “You’re home early…” she started.

     “I had an afternoon meeting close to home so I  just didn’t go back to the office," he offered with a shrug.

     “Oh. That’s nice.”

     “It was.”

     Suspicious as it was, she had no energy left to try and further interrogate him. She walked over to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea and noticed a gift box on the table.

     “Is this for me?” she hesitated. It wasn’t her birthday, Valentine’s, or their anniversary. She began to panic that she had forgotten to get him something.

     “Yes and no.”

     “Should I open it?”

     “Your choice.”

     “Obviously  I’m going to, then.” After a childhood like hers, Rey had a primal reaction when it came to opening gifts. Truth be told, there could be nothing inside of the gift and she would still enjoy the act of opening it up.

     This box wasn't empty, though. She softly touched the leather of a baby-sized pilot jacket.

     “Oh,” she let out. Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

     “See. Not a gift for you, per se. But I do remember how much you wanted to be a pilot as a child. I was walking back to my car when I saw it and just couldn’t seem to walk away. I’m not saying we need it now. I learned my lesson last night. But  maybe  we can  just  stuff it in the back of the closet for someday?”

     Rey’s eyes welled up and she bit down on her lip to avoid saying something she’d regret.

  Thursday

     The next day, Rey sat at home groaning at her laptop.

     “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

     “I'm fine. It’s just that Maverick's dad emailed to pull out of chaperoning. Mav has a ‘doctor’s appointment’,” she emphasized with air quotes. “So, now I’ve got no male chaperones for our field trip tomorrow. It’s doable with the moms and grandmas coming. But now I’m down one adult and there’s no one to supervise the boys on bathroom trips.”

     “I can go.”

     “No. You have work.”

     “I’ll call out sick.”

     “Don’t do that. I’ll be fine.”

     “I never take sick days, Rey. I can afford to miss tomorrow.”

     “Why would you even want to come?”

     “Can’t a man  just  want to spend time with his wife?”

     “Sure, Ben. But I'm warning you, field-trip-Mrs.-Solo is NOT a pretty sight,” she grumbled.

 Friday Afternoon

     After counting off the students for the fifth time, Rey was certain they hadn't left anyone behind. She led the students and chaperones out from the aquarium and towards the park for lunch. The field trip went surprisingly well, so she made a deal with the class. They could play on the playground afterward if they ate their lunch quietly and kept the area clean.

     “Five more minutes til we start packing up!” she called out. When no one responded, she repeated herself in a shout. “FIVE MORE MINUTES UNTIL WE PACK UP! ANYONE WHO DOESN’T STOP PLAYING IN FIVE MINUTES WILL HAVE TO MISS THE NEXT FIELD TRIP!”

     “OKAY MRS. SOLO!” the kids cried in unison.

     Pleased with herself, Rey turned to watch Ben play with the kids on the playground. It was quite a sight. She hadn’t known Ben in his youth, but she knew he had spent a lot of it alone. And of course, the Kylo Ren she first met would’ve never been caught traipsing through a park. Cries of laughter fill the air as he spun a group of students on the merry-go-round disk. He was stronger than they were, which sent them round at a speed that was probably unsafe. The students giggled and held on for dear life.

     Rey noticed that Dax hadn't gotten off for the past several turns. She warned Ben to let him have a break. “Mr. Ben. You need to let Dax off. You’re gonna make him sick!”

     He looked back at her and shook his head. “Nah. He’s strong! Aren’t you, buddy?”

     “Yeah! Mr. Ben, you’re the best!” The boy began jumping up and down in excitement when his face suddenly paled.

     Dax lurched forward and covered Ben with the remains of his lunch.

     The playground went silent in horror. Rey ran over, ready to do damage control when she considered her husband’s former reputation as a hothead. To her surprise, Ben laughed. “Aren’t we a pair of messes?” she heard him say. Hand in hand, Ben took Dax to wash off at the water fountain. Rey stood there frozen.

     Once they got back to school, Rey handed her favorite chaperone a small hoodie. He looked down and saw, “Coruscant Cougars”.

     “Sorry, it’s all I’ve got. Might be a tight squeeze, but it has to be better than smelling like vomit?”

     He had to agree and said goodbye to the class as he left for the bathroom to change.

     Rey sighed as she waved goodbye to the last student. She let out a small shriek when she saw Ben on the floor, slightly hidden beneath a desk in her tiny hoodie.

     “What are you doing? And how did you get in here?”

     “I walked? You were talking with the after-school program teacher. Must have missed me.” He was distracted and she noticed he had something in his hand.

     “Again. What are you doing down there?”

     “I noticed that the kids kept knocking their knees on the desks so I’m going to raise these up real quick.”

     Her heart began to race and she felt her cheeks twitch as a small smile threatened to sneak out.

     “I’m ready, Ben.”

     “Yeah, okay. We can go home as soon as I tighten this last screw. I can’t have any of them getting crushed by my bad handiwork.”

     “No, Ben." Rey walked over and lowered herself to meet him on the floor. She leaned in to kiss him softly. "I’m. Ready. Let's have a baby.” 

[alounuitte]

cactus blossoms

(or, some can only bloom with water from a desert sky.)

Adam needs some support while he recovers from a surgery, and Shiro volunteers to be his best friend's roommate for the summer after their first year in the Garrison. Somehow, it turns out he's not the only one Adam gets a chance to get closer to, and an operation isn't the only thing he's recovering from. (pre-relationship, but no romance will be in this.)

special thanks this chapter to the friend who gave her name to the Glenn-Mitchell act, which she inspired by correctly pointing out that there must be some major policy changes to make the Garrison’s space program more accommodating to disability! 

Chapter 4.

The last two weeks of May feel like there are three days crammed into every one that actually passes, and it would be bad enough without also trying to move. For everyone else, the week following exams will be plenty of time to pack up their things and get them into storage if they’re not staying on base over the summer, but with Adam’s appointment set first thing in the morning the Monday after the term ends, he and Shiro both need to be settled into their summer quarters by the end of the weekend. 

“I don’t have time to pack everything and study for exams,” Adam says despairingly as he collapses onto his bed. “I’m going to fail.” 

“You’re not going to fail,” Shiro says, trying not to laugh; he knows Adam is being serious, but the anguish in his tone borders on melodramatic. “We’re just gonna have to enlist some help.” 

“I don’t want anyone else messing with my stuff, though,” Adam says. “I hate people touching my things.” 

“What if I help?” Shiro says. “You trust me, right?” 

Adam frowns at him, folding his arms. “Not that much.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. 

“Not to let you pack for me,” Adam clarifies quickly. “Anyways, you don’t have time. I know you’re some kind of genius, or something, but you have to study, too.” 

He scoffs and shakes his head. “Whoever told you that was a damned liar. I just work hard at what I care about.” 

“That’s not true,” Adam says, laughing. “You’re good at everything.” 

“Maybe I care about everything,” he replies lightly. 

Adam shakes his head, still grinning. “Alright, if you say so,” he says. “But you also have all, like, three hundred pages of the Glenn-Mitchell Act memorized. Normal people don’t just do that for fun.” 

“I said I wasn’t a genius,” Shiro says, grinning back. “I never said I was normal.” 

—

In the end, they take turns spending their free time at each other’s quarters all week, alternately studying together and helping each other pack. “I think your roommate must be sick of me,” Adam comments on Thursday afternoon, sitting on the floor in Shiro’s room. “I’ve been here more than he has this week.” 

Shiro laughs at that, shaking his head. “Sick of what, getting scared half to death because he forgets you’re here until you talk? You’re so quiet sometimes you startle me.” 

“Sick of my chilly, standoffish attitude, probably,” Adam says dryly. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Shiro says. “Nobody thinks that about you. And if they do, well, fuck them, anyways, they’d know better if they took the time to talk to you.” 

Adam laughs quietly and shakes his head, and there’s a look on his face Shiro can’t read, a shine in his eyes and a softness to his smile that he’s not sure he’s ever seen before. 

—

On Sunday morning, the day before exams begin, Sam Holt arrives bright and early, accompanied by his wife and a gangly boy in glasses who must be their son. “Morning, Shiro,” he says cheerfully, giving him a crooked grin. “You’ve met my wife Colleen, of course, and this is my eldest boy, Matthew.” 

“Matt’s fine,” the boy says, offering his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Dad says you’re the best pilot he’s ever seen since he’s been with the Garrison.” 

“Now, son, there’s no need to put him on the spot,” Sam says, laughing, as Shiro feels his cheeks heat up. “First things first, Shiro, why don’t you show us what all needs moving?” 

He’s just finishing showing them everything he’s ready to take upstairs when there’s a knock on the door. “That’s probably Adam,” Shiro says, jumping up to answer. “Hey! Come on in, the Holts are here to help me move stuff, they said they’d help you too if you want--”

“Oh,” Adam says, looking startled, and stands up a little straighter. “Uh, hi, Commander.”

“Morning!” Sam says, waving. “You can call me Sam, we’re all off duty right now.”

The look on Adam’s face says that’s not likely to happen, and Shiro bites his tongue to keep from laughing. “You should show them what you need done with your stuff,” he says instead. “That way we have all day to study, since they offered to help bring things up to Montgomery’s quarters.”

“That’s really not…” Adam protests, looking back and forth between Shiro and the Holts gathered around his quarters. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Colleen says, smiling warmly. “It’s not any trouble for us to carry some boxes so you can focus on preparing for exams.”

“Come on, I already told them what to do with my stuff,” Shiro says. “Let’s go to your room so you can show them what’s up with yours.”

“I don’t--” Adam protests as Shiro pulls him into the hall. “That’s really nice of you guys, but you don’t have to…”

“No amount of kindness frees us from the obligation to do right by our neighbors,” Sam says, adjusting his glasses. 

Much to Shiro’s surprise, Adam relaxes slightly, his shoulders slumping. “Well,” he says with a sigh. “Okay, if it’s that important to you.”

“Hey,” Matt says, running ahead to catch up. “I’m Matt, Commander Holt’s my dad. Are you in the pilot track, too? I’m gonna be in communications when I start, like Dad is, but I bet being a pilot is super cool. Do you guys get to fly real aircraft yet?” 

“Um,” Adam says, looking to Shiro for help. 

“No, we can’t fly for real until third year,” Shiro says. “Unless we’re selected for special training, some people get to start early in their fourth term.” 

“Now, I wouldn’t know anything about what next spring’s flight specialist class might look like,” Sam says, tapping the side of his nose. “Officially speaking, even if a decision was made this early, I couldn’t tell you about it. But the names of a couple cadets here might be on the shortlist.” 

“Really?” Shiro asks, beaming. 

“Don’t act like you’re surprised!” Adam says, wide-eyed. “Everyone knows you’re going to get in.” 

“Better keep up your marks on these exams, though,” Sam says lightly, and chuckles. “Even with those perfect simulator scores, you’ve got to keep up in your other classes.” 

“Yes, sir,” Shiro agrees, grinning, as they stop outside of Adam’s room. “We’ll get straight to work as soon as you know what to help with.” 

The room is even more spare than usual, the books all pulled off the bookshelves and everything cleared off his desk except a stack of notebooks and a single pen. His duffel is open at the foot of his bed, half packed with clothes as if for a trip.

“Um, you can start with these,” Adam says, gesturing to a stack of boxes on the floor. “Careful, though, they’re heavy. And this is just clothes, that can go next… if that’s okay, sir.”

“Whatever makes your life easiest, son,” Sam says, laughing. 

“Just leave this one for last,” Adam adds, tapping the box that’s on his desk chair as he grabs his notebooks.  “I need to be able to get things out of it, so make sure it’s easy to access. And it’s fragile, be careful, I don’t want anything to break.”

“Whatcha got in there?” Matt asks, leaning against the desk. “Models or something?”

“Matthew!” Colleen says. “That’s rude.” 

“It’s fine,” Adam says, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders. “It’s just ceremonial things. Candlesticks and stuff. A bunch of it’s my mom’s.” 

“Oh,” Matt says. “That’s cool, too.” 

“I’ll treat it like it was my own,” Sam promises. “What do you say, Coll? Matty? Ready to get to work?” 

Colleen nods, already rolling up her sleeves. “Lauren emailed me the room designation this morning,” she says. “She should already be waiting for us upstairs.” 

“Come on,” Shiro says, heading for the door. “We’ve got work to do, too.” 

Adam hangs back, hovering in the doorway to look at the Holts. “Thanks again, Commander,” he says quietly. “Well, all of you. It means a lot.” 

“Well, a friend of Shiro’s is a friend of mine,” Sam says with a wave. “And I never refuse to lend a hand when a friend’s in need.” 

“You boys are plenty busy already,” Colleen adds. “Go study! We’ll get everything taken care of.” 

[saymypiece]

This nobody’s journal of hot, boring afternoons…

Day 21 (7.4.2020 - Tuesday)

I did not sleep through the night, again! What on Earth! On the other hand, I worked out, a little, but still a workout. As in I played with my dog. She got a hold my bro/sis old silambam belt and goes around playing with it. So grabbed on to the other end and had a tug of war with her, which was fun, until she realised I wasn’t much of a competition and got bored. :S It’s alright, I will prove to her that I am worthy of her time. I shall try again. Practice makes perfect Koko, you adorable snob! 

Day 20 (6.4.2020 - Monday)

Omgoodness its day 20! I cannot believe we have been stuck at home without a choice for so long. I keep hearing of doctors and nurses falling ill, scientists working so hard to create a vaccine. I can’t help but wonder what this virus is all about. This thing we can’t see is causing so much chaos, panic and fear in everyone. And the way I see it, it’s not going away anytime soon. But our God is God over the impossible! He is the only way this virus will be washed out. This time at home, especially during this time leading up to Easter, has allowed me to spend some time in devotion and the Bible. And what I have learnt is we are not alone. Our time on Earth, though temporary, is designed to be fulfilling and beautiful. So I’m embracing that. No matter what comes against me, it shall not prosper. For my God is for me. On the other hand, I have not been able to sleep. It’s been challenging to 

Day 19 (5.4.2020 - Sunday)

As usual, Sunday was enriching and chill. Not that every other day is not chill, but Sundays, they are quite a little more chill than other days. At 3pm, I joined a group chat with some friends from church. Fun.

Day 18 (4.4.2020 - Saturday)

After last week’s shopping debacle, I was terrified about going out there with mum again. Nevertheless, we had needs and they needed to be bought, so I got ready with my gear, the usual suspects of masks, gloves and a hand sanitiser. This time, the mall staff were even more strict. They checked body temperatures before anyone could even enter the building. And only one person per family was allowed in. So, yes, we kinda put on our inner Meryl Streeps and acted the strangers we never knew we could play so well. They believed it. Heck, at one point, even I believed it. My mom, I think, may BE, Meryl Streep, I don’t know. Anyway, no drama during shopping, everything was perfect. I even got to keep my shorts intact the whole time. No, it was a different shorts, I wash them everyday. Yes, I’ve got a whole lot of loose shorts okay? They’re comfy! What some more you want?

Day 17 (3.4.2020 - Friday)

Another Friday has come and gone. There is really nothing new happening, but today, I got to catch up with the darling! You don’t feel time passing you by until you actually do something you used to do very, very often, years ago. We used to Skype and video call all the time until work and life happened. Then suddenly, it had all come to an abrupt end. This conversation felt like such a treat. I felt like I was catching up with her entire lifetime. Well, a lot can happen in over six years. Feeling so blessed for technology and this time we get to reconnect and spend quality time with each other. 

Day 16 (2.4.2020)

Ok so, sleep lost it’s way and didn’t really get back to me, blardee heartbreaker! Didn’t do much other than write and hang around all day. So I decided, to pick up my guitar and do somethin with it. :) You Say by Lauren Daigle

Day 15 (1.4.2020 - Wednesday)

I know it’s meant to be April’s Fool today, but like the rest of the world, it didn’t mean a thing. I mean, our situation right now seems like a giant prank anyway. There is no need to scare anyone else about, anything else. The greatest prank in the world right now would be to just go up to someone who’s NOT your family, and sneeze or cough right at their faces. Once they know you’re pranking em, they’d either laugh or slap you so hard, you begin to foretell your f-f-future. Even watching old YouTube videos of interviews or clips from shows where there is some amount of coughing or sneezing involved makes me cringe so hard! And I’m not the only one. Read the comments. Once thing I am certain of, whether a vaccine is found or not, is that once this MCO is over, everybody is gonna be a germaphobe/hygiene-junkies - always washing hands and sneezing into handkerchiefs and such. Anyway, goodnight, hope sleep finds me tonight.

Day 14 (31.3.2020 - Tuesday)

Oh praise the Lord I’m alright. At least, I think I’m alright. I don’t feel fuzzy, I have no fever, no headache. I was awake super early and I decided to feed my three dogs, for the first time! Let my bro and sis sleep in a little this morning. I had no idea how to do it. I just winged it based on what I thought is normally done, and it worked. The three ding dongs listened, sat patiently, ate sweetly and gave me some kisses. And then, I put on a fan for them, coz there was no air movement out. It was so weird, it was early morning and it was so hot with zero movement in the air. Man, we really need the rain!

Day 13 (30.3.2020 - Monday)

I am so not feeling good today! My mind is racing. Was it the shopping at Tesco on Saturday? Was it the Lontong flavoured Chef noodles I had for dinner last night? What is it? I have a bad headache, body ache and my brain is a little fuzzy, like when I have a fever. When I asked my sister to check my temperature, she confirmed there is a slight fever. Paracetamol. I need it. And a good shower. Had both. Going to sleep again. Maybe I’m tired, exhausted. I’ve told everyone in the house to stay away. Lord, protect papa. And heal me. Let this not be…it.

Day 12 (29.3.2020 - Sunday)

Time for church online. Mummy made friend mee hoon and some Portuguese tarts. It was one of those quiet days. Didn’t do much today.

Day 11 (28.3.2020 - Saturday)

Nope. Zoom didn’t let me down. I let Zoom down! My frickin alarm didn’t go off, or maybe it did and I didn’t hear it, I don’t know. All I know is I wasn’t up until 11.20am! The meeting was supposed to start at 11am! #muchembarassed Thankfully they were all in conversation while waiting for me. I didn’t even have time to brush my teeth. Just washed my face, tamed my hair and appeared online. Connect was awesome though. The two newcomers were great. Kinda weird we didn’t shake hands or hug, kinda weird we literally met face-to-face, online, but it was great! Cheers to new experiences, I say. Speaking of new experiences, I have never liked shopping. Like, ever. I don’t enjoy walking around, I don’t enjoy going to shops after shops after shops. Basically, I’m most men when it comes to shopping. Today, my mom and I had to run to Tesco to stock up on some of our essentials that are running low. I wore a shorts and t-shirt but with two masks, gloves, and in my pockets, Clorox anti-bacterial wipes and hand-sanitiser. We strategised how and what to touch before entering the store. I was going to be the one doing the touching, cos I wore the gloves, and my mom, wearing one glove, was to be the one pointing out what I was supposed to pick out from the shelves. Carefully, but swiftly, we began picking out everything on our list. My heart, for some reason, was drumming like a Taiko drum in my chest. And to make matters worse, sometime during our walking through the aisles, my mom completely ditched our strategy and started touching the things on the shelves! Like, ALL things! Okay, granted, I wasn’t fast enough for her but PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE, okay? Just… keep your hands to yourself and straighten ONLY the index finger. How difficult is that strategy? Now, she’d gone and made my mind spin round and round tryna think of how the virus would travel, or get stuck on her phone (which I sanitised the moment we got out), or what her gloved hand touched and what she could and could not touch anymore not that is has been exposed. Arghh! Finally at the cashier, we more or less got in sync. Everything went according to plan, like which hand she would get her debit card out of my shorts pocket with and which hand she received it from the cashier with after the payment was made. It went pretty perfectly, with the slight risk of me losing my shorts because mummy decided to shove her hands so far down my pockets. The shorts was loose to begin with. Thankfully, with my firm grip, nothing untoward happened. We got out, got home, showered and washed all the clothes we were in. All good. Phew…

Day 10 (27.3.2020 - Friday)

Thankful for technology. It’s made life very easy. Even my mom, who is completely resistant of anything “technology” (because she thinks she would destroy the internet or something) has had to organise Zoom meets, coordinate her kindergarten teachers’ online lessons and activities - it’s been quite a trip seeing my mom grow into this technological wiz, so to speak. I joined her connect group today, had a good discussion. A little nervous about mine tomorrow morning. We will have two newcomers on board. Hopefully Zoom doesn’t let me down.

Day 9 (26.3.2020 - Thursday)

It’s the end of the day, and lo and behold, I have completed the pages I was meant to complete. Turns out, I didn’t have to do some of the last pages, so that saved me some work. I was right. I DO feel blind and like a bat after completing the job, but the satisfaction of a job completed is unmatched. The number of cases keep increasing by around 130 every day! It’s not even funny how people are still choosing to ignore this situation. We are already in day nine of the MCO and they still feel it’s alright to meet their friends and family in such a time as this. If only we all, collaboratively, stayed home for two weeks, we could actually curb this virus from spreading out. STOP GIVING IT TRANSPORT! Ugh! On the bright side, I am organising our Connect meet online.

Day 8 (25.3.2020 - Wednesday)

Quick update: Still on the project. I have managed to complete around 10 pages, mostly profiles. I am so surprised at how weirdly written everything is. On COVID-19, we are 300 cases short of 2000. It’s not looking good at all. And what’s worse, the government has extended the MCO to April 14. So instead of going back to work on 1 April, I would be jobless until 15 April. Lord, I surrender this to you. Let all that happens, happen according to your plan. I place my trust and hope in You, Lord. Amen.

Day 7 (24.3.2020 - Tuesday)

…aaaaaaadddd!!!! There are sooo many words in this, it doesn’t seem to have an end! 105 pages of THIS is more than I can bear!!! I’m gonna go nuts by the end of it, or blind! Anyway, I started on this the day before yesterday, but it has been a lot of, what my dad would call, broken focus. I just can’t seem to stay on the editing bit. I keep getting beckoned by either YouTube or Facebook or Instagram, and end the day without completing even one full page… so here we are. I have exactly two days to complete editing 103 pages of words. *takes a deep breath* RM530 is riding on this, man! Get it together and do it! I know RM530 seems little, but to me, after 5 months of RM0, it’s an upgrade I never thought I’d get. #suckitup

Day 6 (23.3.2020 - Monday)

Monday has arrived. I am refreshed, I have my mind set on the epilepsy article I am gonna write and the copy-editing project from the marketing department. I’m all set. I sent my interview questions to both the people I am meant to talk to. Under the current situation, I am not able to talk to them so email is the next best thing. Except an interview over Zoom would have been better, but they can’t seem to make it. Being researchers and lecturers and all, they don’t have much time on their hands…. unlike me. Anyway, that’s done. Now, continuing the project. Ohhhhmaaaiiiigaaa…

Day 5 (22.3.2020 - Sunday)

Oh Sunday. It was a really awesome Sunday service. It was truly something I think we all needed. The praise and worship was amazing, and allowed me to just soak in worship. Despite all the chaos and fear that I have in my heart and mind, I felt a peace wash over me. Suddenly I realised that the only reason for the fear in my heart is the unknown. But every “next step” we take is an unknown anyway, so why fear this one? I will keep praying, staying home, except during essential buys, washing my hands, working and doing pretty much everything I always do WITHOUT having fear in my heart.

Day 4 (21.3.2020 - Saturday)

What a total frickin crap-show! The numbers are increasing and I’ll tell you the truth, I’m afraid. Every time I wash my hands, I can’t stop wondering if I’ve washed them enough. There is just too much stake. My dad, his lungs are really not good and I am worried about what would happen should one of us get careless and carry this virus home from some essential grocery shopping. The only comfort I have right now is that my God is bigger. I know my God is bigger than all of this. I know my God is bigger than all of this!

Day 3 (20.3.2020 - Friday)

I know I wished for an eventful 2020, but my goodness, enough already! 

OMGIF already?? So, suddenly, the number of the infected in Malaysia hit 1000+. That is really too much! Who’s to blame? Why are there still cow dungs out and about on the roads, meeting friends and speaking their essentials words and letting their spits flow freely in the world and into each others’ ears? Don’t they know of a phone? There’s WhatsApp, Zoom, Hangout, Telegram, frickin Signal, Line, FB Messenger…heck, everything has a caller these days! *checks if Tinder has a caller* Not Tinder, thank goodness. Just…ugh…stop going out. *breathes* Meanwhile, my lovely brother gave us all his homemade Ais Malaysia and it was lovely! Like, it hasn’t properly rained in quite a few weeks now, and it is sooo hot. That Ais Malaysia was truly somewhat of a saving grace. And to top it off, my darling little sister made o-maki sushi, with the tuna and everything. Superb! Anyways, all things considered, the numbers locally are not too bad, is it? Is it? I’ll just have to keep washing my hands… “His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, there’s vomit on his sweater already, mom’s spaghetti…”

Day 2 (19.3.2020 - Thursday)

#tbt like #tbeverydayforthelast5months ! 

This MCO doesn’t really make much of a difference for me since I was not working the last five months. This time around though, I wash my hands more, go out lesser, and can’t go out even if I wanted to. You know what? The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon: Home Edition is super awesome! I love it. It’s a breath of fresh air so I’ll have that to enjoy over this period. When we get out of this, I don’t think my hands will make it out “alive”. The number of times I wash my hands to the first verse of “Lose Yourself” is nuts!

Day 1 (18.3.2020 - Wednesday)

So, I started this to keep track of what is happening in this lovely, wonderful, fantastic nation during the Movement Control Order and also to me, as a… non-essential employee. Coz as long as I’m not working, I am not paid. Ok, let me rephrase that. As long as I am not present AT the office, then I’m not paid. Never been in this position, kinda worrying, but thankfully, I do have projects to complete to get me some kinda cash. Don’t know how its all gonna pan out. I am leaving all these worries to the Lord Almighty coz I know there is nothing I can do to change anything happening around me other than pray and stay home. These daily entries will be filled with dramatics and descriptive nothings, coz seriously, I can’t imagine another two weeks at home. So I AM gonna add some spice to this. Alright, so, first day was…err…normal. How’s that for spice? Whaaaat? I don’t know what to say in this okay? I am just…I just wanna remember what I went thru so…

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Queen of Hearts - Chapter 14

Thirty-year-old Rose Tyler’s matchmaking business is doing very well indeed, bringing her clients such as celebrities, athletes, and the now-happily-married son of the mayor.  All of which brings her to her newest client - one whose royal rank is a far cry above her own title as Queen of Hearts.

Ian, King of Gallifrey, calls off his wedding four weeks before the happy day as he realizes he can’t spend another minute of his life with his betrothed.  The catch - he must take a wife before his Coronation, only a month away.  In desperation, his sister and aunt conspire to find him is happy ever after - and it’s going to take a master matchmaker to do it.

-

Based on the Hallmark Movie ‘Royal Matchmaker’.  Chapters will be posted every Sunday.

As always, beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma​!  @doctorroseprompts

Masterlist  |  AO3

---

Wednesday, April 24th

Wednesday dawned bright and early, and once again, Ian watched from his desk chair.

In just under twelve hours now, he would be introducing Gallifrey to Reinette, introducing her as their soon-to-be queen.

The very idea made him heartsick, but he was determined to put it behind him – except his mind refused to yield.

It drifted, giving him unwelcome visions of an impossible future with Rose.  A kiss, in front of the Archbishop and the national telly station, presenting to his subjects their new Queen.  Being coronated together, taking nearly the same vows they’d just made to each other and making them, together, to his people.  A newborn cradled in her arms, more gorgeous than ever despite her pain and exhaustion, how he’d never known it was possible to love someone so much, so immediately.  A lifetime of happiness, service to his country that didn’t feel like a sacrifice, not with her at his side, in his heart, in his bed.

There’s me, she’d promised him so earnestly.  She’d had a caveat, ‘until you find the one’, neither of them knowing at the time that she was that one.

Please don’t make me go through with this, he begged the fading stars.  Please don’t show her to me then take her away.

He received no response.

-

Rose lay curled up in her bed, crying softly as she buried her face in one of the extra pillows.  The King would announce his engagement that night, and she didn’t know if she had the heart to be there.

Mel called her name from the other room but she ignored her, not wanting her friend to see her in such a state.

You are a professional, Rose lectured herself, blowing her nose into a tissue clutched tightly in her hand.  Act like it!

“Oh, Rose,” Mel’s sympathetic voice came from near the door, only bringing more tears to Rose’s eyes as she sank further into her cocoon.

“I caught something,” Rose sniffled, adding in a cough for effect, not sure Mel would buy it but needing to try for dignity’s sake.

Her friend perched on the side of the bed, clucking sympathetically.  “I know.”  Her kind smile said she knew exactly what Rose had ‘caught’, which only served to make Rose whine and pull the covers over her head.

“He’s in love with Reinette,” she mumbled, voice further muffled by the relative safety of her cocoon.

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes, he is!  And he should be, they had a ninety-five on the index.”  Rose freed her face.  “What do you mean he’s not?”

Mel shrugged.  “I’ve seen him out the window a few times, usually walking alone.  Doesn’t look like he’s on top of the world.”

“Don’t do that.”  Rose shook her head.  “Don’t give me hope.  Oh, God, do you think he knows?!”

“What, that you’re in love with him?”

Rose flinched, the question a truth far more honest than she was ready to handle.  “I don’t know.  I do know that you’re in love with each other.  But… it’s not your fault.”

Rose sat up at that, brow furrowing.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mel gave a sheepish smile.  “I… ran you through the program.  Ninety-eight point five.  And honestly, I think that is just because of your background.”

“What do I do?  What- what am I supposed to do?”

“Tell him?”

Rose let out a scream of frustration, pulling a pillow over her face.  “I can’t do that,” she wailed.  “It has to- it has to come from him.  I can’t.”

“Okay,” her friend said soothingly, tugging the pillow away from Rose’s face, “but… can you live with him marrying her instead?”

Rose had no answer for that one.

-

After a tasteless lunch he shared with Reinette, who spent the entire time chattering on about her plans as queen and didn’t seem to notice his lack of interest or response, he went for another walk through the Palace.

He found himself back in the guest wing, rapping on the door of the mystery woman Jackie.

“Yes?” she threw open the door, eyes going wide at the sight of him.  “You’re the King!”

“I am.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, before she suddenly dipped into a curtsey.  “Um, can I help you?” she asked, uncertain, and Ian shook his head.

“No, I… I don’t know why I came here.  Sorry to disturb you,” he turned to go, when she stopped him.

“Now, hang on,” she touched his arm before quickly pulling back.  “Sorry, but… clearly you came here for a reason.  Cuppa tea?”

He let the woman pull him into the room, guide him to the chair next to the sofa and began preparing him tea.

“I hear you’re to be married,” Jackie started, handing him a teacup and settling on the couch.  Today she was dressed in a tracksuit, bright pink, making herself right at home.

“Saturday.  We announce the engagement tonight.”  He stared down into his mug, wishing he had his flask and could add something to it.

“You don’t look too happy about that.”

Not meeting her eye, he admitted, “She’s not the one I want.”

“Why not?  Why don’t you marry the one you do?”

“She’s engaged to someone else.”

Jackie snorted.  “So?  You’re a bleeding king.  Pardon my language, but that’s hard to beat.”

“She doesn’t care about that sort of thing.  She’s not… she’s not like that.”  Ian sighed.  “Besides, if she’s happy, who am I to interfere?  Maybe I’ll learn to love Reinette.  Anyway, I’m sure my family considers her to be much more suitable than… than the woman I want.”

“D’you want to know what I think?”  She didn’t wait for him to respond.  “I think life’s too short for that.  You know, you meet someone, you think you’ve got the rest of your lives to spend together… but you don’t.  I lost my Pete when our daughter was just a baby.  It’s been her and me for thirty years ‘cause I knew I’d never love no one like I did him.  And as for what your family wants… so what?  My daughter, she’s got this old boyfriend who I love to pieces.  He’s family, the three of us are really all we’ve got.  If they got married, it’d make my day, right?  Only she won’t have him, and he went off and found someone else and now they’re getting married.  And Martha’s a lovely young woman, they do seem happy, but… I always imagined Mickey’d be my son-in-law someday.  But I’ve got to let that go, and let my girl find someone else.  She spends too much time setting up other people- oh.  Well, point is, you’ve got to fight for the love you want.”

Ian’s head jerked up, mouth falling open as he studied the woman.  “You’re Rose’s mother.”  It made sense, from the vague familiarity to the strong resemblance.  Plus, the pink tracksuit closely matched the scarf Rose had been looking at when they met at the festival.

Jackie’s eyes went wide, a guilty expression flashing across her face and confirming it even as she tried to stutter, “Oh, no, I don’t think-”

“You are!”  He stood, mind racing as he tried to process what she had said.  “D’you mean- Rose- she’s not getting married?  To Mickey?”

“Really, you seem to be misunderstanding-”

“Please!” Ian shouted, voice lowering to a rough tone as he repeated, “Please.  Is Rose involved with someone?”

Still looking terribly guilty, Jackie slowly shook her head.

“Thank you.”  On impulse, he darted forward and kissed the woman’s head.  If all went well, she’d be his mother-in-law by Monday.  “Oh, thank you.”

And he ran out of the room.

-

It took time, but eventually Mel was able to cajole Rose out of bed, into casual clothes, and out onto the couch.  She was still teary-eyed, but she’d been fed and was now no longer crying, though tears occasionally leaked out.

A banging on the door jerked Rose out of her half-asleep state, as she exchanged worried looks with Mel.

“Rose!”  The King’s shout echoed through the thick doors.  “Rose, I need to talk to you!”

“What do you want me to do?” Mel asked, as Rose scrambled up and towards her bedroom.

“I’m not here, or I’m sleeping, I don’t know,” she hissed over her shoulder.  “Make something up!”

Shutting her door almost all the way, she peered out as Mel let the King into their suite.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“Yeah, is Rose here?  I need to speak to her at once.”

Mel’s glance darted towards Rose’s bedroom, and she shut the door a little more to keep from being spotted.  “No, Sir.  She… I believe she said she was going for a walk.”

“A walk?  Where?  Please, this is important.”

“I don’t know, Sir.  She mentioned the lake, but also Arcadia… She might have walked into town again.  Can I take a message?”

He nodded sharply.  “Tell her I must speak to her at once.  Before the ball.  It is critically important.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Message given he practically sprinted from the room, and Rose gave him a minute to be sure he was really gone before creeping back out.  “What was that about?”

“He wants to talk to you.”  Mel shrugged, crossing her arms.  “I think you should.”

“No.”  Rose shook her head, sighing softly.  “No.  I… I bought a ticket home.  The train leaves at eight.  I need you to cover for me.”

“Rose-”

“Please,” she spoke over her.  “I don’t want to hear it.  Just… please.”  Returning to her room, she shut the door.

-

Ian stopped every servant he saw and ordered them to give Rose the same message, running his fingers through his hair anxiously as he stood in the hallway, uncertain of where to search first.

“Your Majesty?  What is going on?”

He turned to find Reinette behind him, peering out from her suite.  After Monday afternoon’s proposal she’d been checked out of her hotel and moved into the Palace in preparation for the announcement.

“Nothing.”

Her expression was soft, and she let out a little sigh.  “Perhaps we should speak, non?”

Reluctantly Ian followed her into the room, settling on the couch beside her.  “Is something wrong?”

The French beauty tilted her head, watching him carefully.  “You are in love with her.”

“Her who?” he responded automatically, even as he wondered if he was really that obvious.  How can everyone but Rose know I’m in love with her?  And so easily?

“Your Majesty…” Reinette placed her hand over his own, squeezing gently.  “We cannot go through with this.  You are too in love with another woman.  And… and I deserve someone as in love with me as you are with her.  I have faith it will work out.”  And she pulled the ring off her finger, offering it out to him.

Ian’s shoulders slumped, unable to fight for something he didn’t even want.  Especially with what he did want so close to coming true.  “I’m sorry.”

“I know, cher, but we could never truly make each other happy.  I hope we may remain friends, but that, I think, is all we are destined to be.”

“Yeah.”  Taking the ring, he ran his other hand over his face and sighed.  “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.  I will make my arrangements, and leave in the morning.  Bonne chance, et felicitations.”

Ian climbed to his feet, pocketing the ring and giving her a hug.  “And you.”

Returning to the hallway, his spirits brightened at realizing no impediment existed now to keep him from Rose.  For her mother to be in the Palace, Sarah and Donna must have invited her – and they would have no reason to do that if they didn’t know where his heart stood, and support it.

Rose is going to be my queen!  Now, I just have to find her.

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 56a

Cowritten with @disastrousintention.

-x-

Things had gotten rather crowded in the house so once the weekend arrived, which also signalled the start of the school Easter holidays, it was decided that the girls would go spend a few days with their gran at her house, leaving just Duffy, Megan and the boys at home.

After a meeting with her doctor on the Friday - her due date - it had been decided that if nothing happened over the weekend then Duffy would be admitted into hospital and induced on the Monday. Normally they would have waited longer than three days overdue but with Duffy's past history it was felt best to air on the side of caution.

Charlie was still in Canada with Louis. Baz had suddenly taken a turn for the worst but Charlie hadn’t been able to tell Duffy that yet, he hadn’t wanted to worry her.

Duffy was hoping that Charlie would arrive home on the Sunday evening so he would be there for the birth, even if he had to fly back to Canada again soon afterwards.

“Have you spoken to Charlie?” Megan asked as she filled up the kettle.

"I'm waiting for it to be a better time of the day over there." Duffy replied as she made her way slowly into the kitchen just before Saturday lunchtime. "That was the mum of one of Jake's friends on the phone. She rang to invite Jake to stay with them for a few days."

“That’ll be nice.” Megan smiled, “He might enjoy that.”

"Yeh, she'll be here after lunch to pick him up so I best go get his things packed."

“Would you like a hand?”

"A hand or you doing it for me?" Duffy smirked.

“Me doing it for you.”

"I thought as much. You best go check with Jake what he wants to take with him. Make sure he has enough pants and socks though, he won't think of that!"

Megan laughed, “Don’t worry. I will.”

Whilst Megan went to sort out Jake's packing Duffy decided to call Charlie to let him know the plans. She picked up the phone and dialed the number.

He answered straight away. The phone having been in his hand. “Hi baby.”

"Hi, sorry to call so early." She apologised.

“No, no it’s fine. Is Everything ok?”

"Yeh, I'm fine. How are things with you?"

“Louis and I are ok.” He smiled sadly.

Duffy hesitated slightly. "Charlie..."

“Yes babe?”

"Is it possible for you to come home for a couple of days?" She asked quietly.

“Is it the baby?” He asked with a sad smile. “Things aren’t great here with Baz.”

"They want to induce me. Not til Monday but..." She paused, registering his remark about his ex wife. "What's happened?"

“She’s—“ He took a deep breath, “They're saying she’s brain dead.” He blurted out.

"What?!" Duffy gasped. "But you said she was improving."

“She was but she took a sudden turn for the worst and now, nothing.” He sighed sadly. “I haven’t told Louis yet. I don’t know how to.”

"Oh Charlie!" She chewed her lip. "What are the doctors saying?"

“We should consider letting her go.” He whispered and wiped the tear from his cheek.

"OK. You should give Louis some time first. To say goodbye." She sighed. "I wish you weren't having to do all this by yourself."

“I will.” He swallowed, “I love you. Will you give the kids a kiss and hug from me? Please?”

"Of course I will. The girls are staying with my mum and Jake is going to Luke's for a few days."

“Give you a break before the youngest arrives?”

"I think that might be the idea." She laughed though there was no humour behind it. "Please come home soon." She whispered. "I miss you."

“I miss you too gorgeous.” He smiled sadly.

"The induction is scheduled for 10.30am Monday but I understand if..."

“I’ll try my best to be there, ok?”

"OK. I best let you get on. Give my love to Louis."

“I will. I love you.”

"I love you too." Duffy hung up the phone and sighed, wiping a tear from her cheek.

Megan was upstairs with Jake, trying to pack for his trip to Luke’s.

Duffy turned her face away as she heard Peter walking down the stairs.

He came into the kitchen, “Mum?”

"Yes sweetheart?"

“You ok?”

"Of course. Just a bit tired that's all."

“Are you sure?”

"Yes." She smiled weakly. "I'm supposed to give you a hug from your dad but you'll probably think you're getting too old for that kind of thing."

Peter shrugged. “As long as you don’t tell anyone.” He muttered with a smile.

"Wouldn't want to ruin your cool reputation..!" She laughed as she held out her arms towards him.

Peter hugged his mum and kissed her cheek. “Is dad ok?”

"He's upset and stressed." She admitted softly.

“Why? Is Baz ok?”

Duffy hesitated, unsure whether to tell Peter the truth.

“Mum?”

"Yes?"

“Is she dead? Is that why you’re sad?”

"There's nothing more they can do."

“Oh..”

"They tried everything but sometimes..." She sighed.

“It’s not enough?”

"Unfortunately not."

“I didn’t like her much.” Peter admitted, “She used to say some horrible things about you.”

"She had her reasons."

“You and dad did bad stuff?”

"That's putting it mildly."

“You and dad had an affair, didn’t you?”

"Its not something I'm proud of but yes."

“Because you love each other? Is that why?” Peter sat at the table.

"Ultimately but saying that would be rather romanticising the way it started."

“Dad says he didn’t respect girls back then.”

"There's probably some truth in that. He changed over the years though."

“Did he respect you?”

"I like to think so."

“I remember when you invited him round that Christmas.”

"Really? You were only a toddler then."

He nodded, “I liked dad being there and then when I woke up, he’d gone.”

"I'm sorry. It was all so complicated back then. I wanted him to stay too." She admitted.

Peter smiled. “Now he doesn’t ever have to leave.”

"No." She squeezed his hand across the table. "Whatever happens in the future, you must know that we both love you and always have."

“I know.” He smiled and squeezed his mum’s hand back.

"I should probably get lunch ready before Luke's mum arrives." She said as she began to push herself up from the chair.

“I’ll help you?”

"You're not going to take no for an answer are you?"

“No mum.” He smiled, “What’s for lunch?”

"I was thinking sandwiches."

“Alright.” Peter began to collect all the stuff needed to make sandwiches.

It didn't take long for the sandwiches to be made and eaten. They were tidying away when there was a knock at the door.

“I’ll go.” Jake said as he shot to the door.

After opening the door he ran back through to say a quick goodbye to everyone and grab his bag before racing out to the car to see Luke.

Peter laughed gently as he watched his younger brother.

"Please be good for Luke's mum! I love you." Duffy called after Jake as he ran off.

“Yes mum. Love you too.” Came the reply.

With Jake gone the rest of the day passed quietly and calmly. By evening time Duffy had given in to an early night as she was exhausted and there'd been no further word from Charlie.

By mid-afternoon Sunday Duffy had convinced Megan that it would be fine if she went out for a couple of hours to church.

Peter was listening to music in his bedroom and Duffy was supposed to be resting in the lounge but had instead decided to clean the kitchen.

“Mum! You’re supposed to be resting!” Peter said when he came down for a glass of water.

"I'm fine. Don't fuss!" She tried to hide her grimace as she reached up to put several items back in the cupboard.

“Sit down. Please.”

"Stop trying to impersonate your father!"

“I’m not.” Peter laughed.

"Could have fooled me." She rolled her eyes. "Go back to what you were doing, I'm just making sure everything is all ready before tomorrow."

“Please sit down.” He replied and then sighed.

"I don't need to sit down."

“Fine.” Peter rolled his eyes exactly the same as Duffy had earlier and sat down at the kitchen table.

"I don't like being watched like that Peter." She commented over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed.

"I thought you wanted to call Sarah this afternoon?" She reminded him.

“We were going to have a picnic.” He replied and then sighed again.

"But you don't want to go out?"

“It’s complicated.” He mumbled.

"Why?"

“It’s a bit embarrassing.”

"I've worked as a nurse in A+E for twenty years - there's nothing I haven't heard or seen. So out with it!" She remarked, levelling a pointed look at him.

He blushed bright red and replied, “I can’t tell you. It’s really embarrassing mum.”

"Peter. Just pretend for a moment that I'm not your mum."

“I keep getting boners in front of Sarah.” He blurted out. “And she thinks it’s hilarious but it’s really not. It’s really embarrassing!”

"It happens sweetheart." Duffy replied, trying not to laugh as she knew that was the worst thing she could do.

“Urgh! You think it’s funny too, don’t you?” He put his head in his hands, “She's really, really pretty but— oh my god, I really wish it wouldn’t happen.”

"Its all a part of growing up. Your hormones are still all over the place." Duffy had an idea. "How about you invite her over here? I'm sure the thought of your old mum being in the next room will quell any unexpected hormone surges."

“Erm, probably not.” He blushed again, “Does dad get many boners?” Peter asked casually.

Duffy choked. "That... Erm... That's a conversation you should probably, um, have with him!" She stuttered.

Peter laughed, “You’re getting embarrassed. Does that mean yes then?” He found it hilarious.

"I'm not sure I want to be having this conversation..."