#also sorry it took me so long to answer i had to file my taxes lolll

[homunculiii]

For honesty hour:

1. What was the last fiction and non-fiction books you read?

2. Drop your Spotify wrapped - and if you don't have one, what new bands/songs did you discover in 2023?

3. This is less of a question but have you watched poker face starring natasha lyonne? I think you'd like it😆

ooh good questions!!

The last fiction book I finished was the Raven graphic novel by Kami Garcia, it was alright and Gabriel Picolo's art is gorgeous! The storyline was a little generic but I still enjoyed it. The last non-comic book I read was Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare, it's one of my best friends' most formative books and I really got swept up in the plot! I thinkkkk the last non-fiction book I actually finished was Natasha Lasky's essay on Blackout by Britney Spears which was a fascinating read! I'm also currently reading Alan Kohler's quarterly essay about the Aussie housing market and really loving it

Oooh what do you want to know about my spotify wrapped? My top song was anti-hero and top podcast was 7am and I'm happy to go into more detail if you like!

I haven't but Natasha Lyonne has such a great screen presence and I love her voice :D I'll have to check it out

[scabopolis]

Ummm because my brain could never come up with something as genius as yours, I will ask—nay, BEG—for more LoVe Vampire AU from Day 1 AU week.

Title: do not engage (part two of this little ficlet) Rating: PG-13 (some swears…because girl is still stressed) Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Additional Tags: Secret identity, vaguely vampire hunter related things, filed under: relationship obstacles, sharing of bagels, vampire Logan is probably far too schmoopy, tried to write angst but whooops I think it's fluff? Word Count: 1,800

For you, dear, @ayy-ohh? Anything. This one really got me stuck because...like...world building? What is that? And would vampires eat bagels? And why DOES Logan have a cell in his basement? So many questions. Anyway! Here it is! *** That she can’t remember ever seeing Logan Echolls in the daylight should have been Veronica’s first clue.

It’s just, given the nocturnal demands of her profession and thus her morning grumpiness, it was easy to miss. Easy to be grateful for. Easy to be relieved that Logan wasn’t like her college boyfriend—the kind of guy who insisted they wake up at 6:00 AM to go running and felt a day spent inside with the shades drawn was a day wasted.

There were, of course, other clues she missed.

Weirdly cryptic statements and obfuscations. (Given she was also prone to said crypticism, she didn’t press for fear he’d do the same.) His reticence towards beach days. (It seemed logical! Who doesn’t hate dodging tourists?) The weird way he’d linger at doorways of unfamiliar houses. (Again, given her own antipathy to socializing, his hesitation was something she understood.)

In retrospect, given that not pressing Logan on his vague answers landed her here—in a weird cell gnawing at the ropes her ex-boyfriend tied tightly around her wrists—she supposes she should have tried harder. She hears Logan’s footsteps on the stairs into the basement but doesn’t stop her attempt to undo the knots.

“I hope you have a good dental plan,” Logan says. She rolls her eyes and continues to work at the strands with her teeth. “Is there even a vampire hunter’s union? Might be something worth looking into. Though, given the general mistrust the position requires, electing a president might prove tricky.”

“God, staking you would have at least gotten you to shut up.”

“But then there’s the crushing guilt.”

“I would have managed.”

Do not engage. In the 36-ish hours she’s been in this cell, that’s been her motto. The secret to coping with the fact that your boyfriend is a vampire and that you and your dad are vampire hunters is to remain detached and cold.

Except it hasn’t been easy. Because her wrists hurt, she smells bad, and oh yeah, apparently she’s not as out of love with the bloodthirsty monster wearing the hell out of a henley and holding a bag of takeout as she thought.

“I got bagels,” he says.

As soon as he says it, the scent of cinnamon raisin wafts from the bag. He doesn’t wait for her to stand; simply slips the paper bag containing her bagel through the bars and slides it to her. Much like he’s done for their previous shared meals, he sits on the ground a safe distance from her and settles into eating his own.

She tears the paper bag and sees that not only has Logan brought her a bagel, he’s also brought her some sort of sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. God. What an asshole.

What is his endgame here? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. It’s only a matter of time until her dad begins to question whatever story Logan texted him from her phone. Her dad will show up and he will have questions. What will Logan say then?

“What will I say to who?” Logan asks.

Shit. Detachment is also easier when inside thoughts remain inside thoughts. “No one.”

“If you’re talking about your dad, he’s out of town for the rest of the week.”

She concentrates on the pattern of the cinnamon swirl laced throughout her breakfast. “What do you mean?”

“According to the text he sent you last night, he had to go to Vegas. Vampire gambling ring of some sort?”

“You’re lying.”

“Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and takes a large bite of her bagel, surveying the interior of her holding cell. And yes, fine, she technically has a policy of not engaging with the pointy fanged one, but she has questions.

“What is the point of having a cell in your basement? Is it for weird sex stuff? Or weird vampire stuff?”

“Who says those two things are mutually exclusive?”

She rolls her eyes. “Spare me, please. I’m eating.”

“I’ll tell you but you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“My friend, Mac?” He extends his legs out in front of him. “Once a month, this is her guest suite.”

Veronica frowns. “For weird sex stuff?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement which, fair, she should probably stop using the phrase weird sex stuff.

Wait. Is he saying—?

“Logan,” she says carefully, “is Mac a werewolf?” He nods, and Veronica’s bagel drops to the floor. “Could you be more of a vampiric cliche? Honestly! Does a zombie do your taxes? Does a ghoul trim your hedges?”

“I trim my own hedges, thank you very much.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or it might be the remaining vestiges of adrenaline leaving her body, but Veronica laughs. Just a little bit. At best it’s a chuckle. Still, it’s enough to make Logan smile in that way he sometimes does—like he can’t believe his luck that he even gets to be in the same room as Veronica. It makes something feel heavy and uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. Do not engage.

“You really didn’t know?” she asks.

Logan’s answer with a slow nod. “I didn’t know.”

“Then how—?”

“It wasn’t an ambush, Veronica.” He pinches off a small piece of his bagel. (Sourdough, she guesses. Probably with jalapeno cream cheese because the man added jalapenos to everything.) She watches as Logan rolls the bread between his fingers. “The date was real but one of Dick’s friends recognized you somehow.”

“You were the one who threw me into a tree.”

“Yeah, and as far as they know, you’re dead. As far as they know, I was so enraged a vampire hunter tricked me that I took you home to finish you off.”

“Which means if you let me go—”

“They’ll know I lied.” He shrugs. “Either they kill me or your dad does. This way you’re safe.”

“Logan—”

“Sorry,” he says. “You called dibs on the killing?”

“Poor little vamp with a death wish.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound so fond. What is wrong with her?

The corner of his mouth twitches with a fleeting smile. There’s a ticking clock on their time together and now they both know it.

“I’ve never seen a vampire eat as much food as you,” she says.

He sets his bagel aside. “Dine with a lot of vampires?”

“Enough to know you eating that bagel is like me eating a bag of sour gummies.”

“Meaning?”

“You might like the taste of a lightly toasted sesame bagel, but an hour later you need to puncture the carotid artery of a single mother to really satisfy yourself.”

“You know sesame seeds get caught in my teeth. And single mothers come with too much guilt.”

“Hedge fund managers?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Veronica has questions, of course she does. More questions than she can properly express—wonders how old he is, who turned him, who gets him blood and how, why he’s friends with Dick Casablancas, if Logan is safe with Dick as a friend—but she doesn’t ask any of those. Because he asks the most important question first.

“What are we going to do, Veronica?”

She stands up, brushes cinnamon raisin crumbs off of her pants. (She catches a whiff of her unshowered self and cringes. So much for their farewell existing as a perfectly preserved memory in the mind of her undead ex-boyfriend.) “There’s no we, Logan. There can’t be.”

He can’t let her go, he can’t keep her locked up, and she can’t stay.

Logan pushes himself up off the ground and comes to meet her at the bars to the cell. “Yeah.”

“First, you’re going to let me out of here.” She wraps her hands around the bars. Logan does just like she’d hoped and does the same, his pinkies barely grazing her knuckles. “And then I never want to see you ever again.”

“That’s what you want?”

God. What a fucking idiot. Of course that isn’t what she wants. What she wants is to go back two days. To return to that night when Logan made pancakes for dinner, and they got drunk on rum and cokes, and then he kissed down her spine as they lay in bed.

She nods anyway. Presses her head against the bars.

“Fine.” Veronica squeezes her eyes shut. “If you ever need anything?” She nods again and she feels the gentle touch of Logan’s lips to her forehead. How is he always so warm? It never made sense.

“I won’t.”

And then, much to her surprise, he walks away. Without letting her out.

She opens her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he says, a portrait of portrait insouciance once more. “You didn’t expect me to let you go now did you? What if this show of emotion is a long con? I could wake up to find you standing over my body poised to pull back my black out shades.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Nighty night, Veronica.”

Logan doesn’t return to the basement and eventually she falls into a fitful sleep, waking up sometime before the sun rises. She definitely needs to pee and she’s so sick of the ‘toilet’ in her cell. Logan should still be awake. Maybe if she yells really—

Finishing that thought proves to be unnecessary because as soon as Veronica’s eyes adjust to the dim light, she notices the door to her cell is ajar. She’s barely thinking as she jumps from the bed and races up the stairs.

“Logan!” she calls out.

Her first stop is the kitchen, where she maneuvers a knife in between the strands of the ropes around her wrists and works to free herself. Her cell phone is waiting for her on the wireless charger Logan keeps in the kitchen. No messages from her dad, but she sends one to check in. She rubs at the tender skin on her wrists as she searches each room of Logan’s house.

As far as she can tell, there isn’t much missing. Some of his toiletries are gone (her toothbrush is still beside the sink) and she thinks maybe some of his clothes too. His motorcycle is still in the garage but the BMW is gone.

So. That’s it? He’s just gone? What about his house? There’s a housing crisis in southern California and this asshole thinks it’s acceptable to simply abandon a perfectly good home? He didn’t even leave a note.

It’s really the irresponsibility that—

Her call rings through to his voicemail. Rolls her eyes at the Dylan Thomas quote that greets her. That’s new.

“If you think I’m watering your plants for you while you’re gone, you are completely delusional.”

He responds while she’s in the shower. (What? She’s really supposed to put up with shitty water pressure at her place when he has a rain shower and heated bathroom tiles?)

Miss me already?

She responds with a garlic emoji.

[neonponders]

I started writing this very niche au ages ago that @booksfoxesandcoffee and @demogirlfriend tinkered with lol​ it’s not quite what I wanted, but at least it’s done ~

Based on my post for This Steve with This Billy:

vampire/musician!Steve and mobster!Billy.

TW for briefly mentioned drugs and all manner of vampire things.

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

If Billy were being honest with himself, it wasn’t the man’s looks that hooked him. The way a superior dancer stands out in the ensemble, it was the musician’s energy that made Billy’s eyes keep finding him.

Every business that opened his his territory went through Billy’s strict legislature. And the whole city was his to play king.

He didn’t consider himself a strict businessman, but he did attend the new club with regularity to make sure they had what they needed to succeed. If they couldn’t succeed, then they’d have to rebuild elsewhere.

They did succeed. Because they had Steve Harrington.

On paper, he was lead guitarist. An instrumentalist. Vocalist if necessary. Billy Hargrove knew he shined in neon stage lighting and his special trick was swinging the instrument around his body so the guitar switched sides halfway through a song or riff, proving ambidextrous dexterity.

Billy knew Harrington was hard to get ahold of. So far, he’d hosted every member of the band and every guest musician at his VIP table. Harrington always had reasons for leaving directly after a show, which surprised Billy. The man’s band mates clearly revolved around him, looked to him for timing cues, and Billy even had the unique experience of seeing the man smack a drink out of the bassist’s hand because the guy could barely stand.

There was a personality there, and Billy wanted to see it up close. Taste it.

Somehow, Harrington had even avoided being invited to Billy’s table during the mid-show break. Always conveniently disappearing until the second he needed to be on stage.

Until now.

Billy’s guards stood up when Harrington approached with someone held firmly by the scruff of his shirt and jacket. Billy waved them aside, and the musician dumped the guy into Billy’s booth. Some heads turned in their direction, curious for drama but not for long. Anyone who hung around Billy, hungering for his attention, knew to be careful about annoying him.

“Is this one of yours?” Harrington prompted.

“Why would he be?” Billy inquired with a lethargic blink.

“I thought your sort had more class than distributing roofies.”

Billy’s pleased, large feline demeanor sloughed off as he turned his head to the man in his booth. Billy didn’t bother negating Harrington’s accusations. Anybody with sense knew who he was. The only thing that bothered Billy at the moment was the use of some nobody to get the musician’s attention.

“You’re right. He isn’t.”

Just like that, the guards lifted the sorry soul out of his booth and began ushering him out of the club. He made a weak attempt at promising an ability to make Billy money, but the latter wasn’t interested in a business centered around dangerous sex. Billy considered himself a purveyor of the opposite; of passion, and real passion only came when all parties were conscious for it.

“Steve.”

The musician paused to look back at him, already on his way back to the greenroom or wherever he hid in between performances.

“Sit with me.”

Steve’s gaze flicked down to the now available seat next to Billy. “No, thanks.”

As if he could - 

He did.

Steve walked away from the table. Billy saw the more discretely dressed guards loitering in the crowd turn and begin to approach Harrington...before distinctly letting him pass.

It was not a regular day that Billy Hargrove’s employees feared someone else more than him.

He pressed his back into the booth, and one of the women sitting along the back of the booth leaned down to hear him. “I want his file.”

“Yes, sir,” she purred. It took no time at all for her to return to his table with Harrington’s business papers. Typical tax form, resume, no cover letter but instead a CD with his music samples.

“What about his background?”

Her nails raked through her long, black hair. She played the part of groupie very well. “We don’t have anything yet.”

Billy found that hard to believe. “He’s worked here for weeks.”

She shrugged a bare, shimmering shoulder. “He hides very well. We’ll have something soon.”

Not soon enough.

Billy took to wandering his club instead of sitting. Why they didn’t just haul the musician into Billy’s office for questioning…no sensible person detonates a bomb without knowing the area is clear. They didn’t know enough about Steve. Whether he belonged to a family scouting the borough before encroaching on Billy’s property.

Would it be their fault for sending in a mole without honoring the proper channels? Yes.

Would it be Billy’s fault for starting an underground war for harming Steve first? Also yes.

So he watched. So he waited. And he began to enjoy this game he and Steve had developed. Because Steve wasn’t as oblivious. He looked pretty—the kind of pretty that some mistake as dumb—but Steve had proven in many, subtle ways just how observant he could be.

The way he managed his band members’ alcohol or obvious drug addictions.

The second time he hauled some petty dealer over to Billy’s booth.

When he flipped Billy off as he walked away after Billy tested, “I noticed you like brunettes.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Steve watched Billy. And Billy watched Steve. At least, Billy suspected. Billy hoped.

The confirmation arrived in the humid alleyway behind his club. He was already itching for a fight. For the last two weeks, a new asshole had been loitering around and inside his business. No one had yet been able to catch him doing anything—until Billy followed him out of the wrong exit. Nobody could use service doors at the back of the building; it was both a safety hazard for civilians to be in the way of delivery trucks, and any squeals about people coming and going from there would have the police riding Billy’s tail.

Then the bastard had the audacity to take two girls who were definitely sporting fake id’s outside.

He slammed the service door against the brick exterior to get their attention. All three of them were huddled and necking between two garbage bins. A real class act.

“Jail bait bimbos, get inside. This asshole can lock himself in a concrete box without your…help.”

The distinct memory of Steve delivering roofy dealers to him flashed in his brain at the sight of the blissed out girls using the alley walls to stay upright. The memory flew out into the main street at the glistening darkness on both of their necks, dripping into their low cut shirts.

In the window of Billy’s surprise, the guy attacked. Slammed Billy right against the other side of the alley, knocking the air out of him—

Billy’s brain couldn’t keep up. But his eyes could.

A large hand gripped the gelled hair and wrenched the guy’s head so far back that Billy heard a threatening pop.

Billy had never stood next to Steve before. He stood just a little taller than Billy—both smaller than the impressive figure he’d watched so many times on stage, but also bigger because he’d never been this close…

Billy was officially having trouble breathing as he watched the man’s wide eyes darting around his sockets despite his broken neck and the disgusting angle of his windpipe.

“This spot’s taken. Tell your hovel to skip town. You won’t get a fourth chance.”

Fourth?

Billy’s eyes stuck on the bloody, long teeth in the man’s gullet before Steve shoved him down the alley. The man landed several yards away—no ordinary shove—but he hauled ass to his feet, head lolling on his shoulders with more sickening crackles.

Billy remained stationary as Steve fixed the shirts and jackets falling on the girls’ shoulders went to hail a cab. One of them recovered faster than the other, and hauled her friend into the vehicle. By this time, Billy managed to say, “What will they do with those stained shirts?”

Steve looked at him, suddenly looking remarkably…normal. Even startled, like he’d forgotten Billy was there. He didn’t hold Billy’s gaze, instead looking a bit downward—

“What will you do about yours?”

Billy frowned, blinking twice before he looked down at himself. It took him a moment to see the difference in his dark blue button-up. But he glistened like the girls did. Slowly, his mind caught up and realized how warm the side of his neck felt, and how gross. Wet. Dry. Sticky. Crusting.

“How did I not even notice?”

Like a dream clinging onto his waking consciousness, the blurry numbness subsided, and Billy realized his throat really fucking hurt.

Steve’s gaze dropped even further, tilting away from Billy as he pointed at the doors. “Go and clean yourself up. Go home.”

Leave it to Billy Hargrove’s pride to stack his spine back together. He stepped off the alley wall and into Steve’s space.

“Don’t—” he turned his face further to the side.

“Explain,” Billy ordered, even as Steve’s hand lifted to cover his mouth.

Steve shook his head a little. “I don’t have to,” he muffled and lifted weary eyes. “Clean yourself up.”

The answers were right there. Yet it seemed…stupid to say any of it out loud. How many movies? Book? Shows?

Instead he said, “Show me.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “You don’t play with bears like this.”

Billy laughed. He laughed Steve all the way out of the alleyway. Billy only regretted this when the next evening, the secretaries of the business ran through the week’s itinerary. Steve wasn’t scheduled.

A long week progressed of Billy thinking over that night. How the hell a guardian angel with teeth and no wings lived his nights in Billy’s cage and Billy had just…taunted him into slipping right out of the bars.

When another week presented itself with still no sight of his musician, Billy knew he would have more than one inconvenience on his plate. His customers liked Steve. Statistically, the club was fit to bursting since a third more clientele showed up for the band’s gigs. Steve made the barkeeps laugh in between numbers. Billy had always thought he used the alcohol in the greenroom instead of taking up the bars’ time.

Instead he dropped rats right into the king’s lap. Creatures Billy never would have seen unless Steve made them visible.

“Schedule Steve’s group on Sunday.”

His secretary frowned at him. “Am I missing something? We’re off on Sundays.”

“He knows that. Just use whatever number he gave you.”

Billy waited behind the club. Perhaps he should have arranged a specific meeting time instead of just the vague Sunday, but…Steve was punctual to his usual call time. Billy heard his footsteps the same moment the lighter in his hands crackled softly under his cigarette.

Steve approached with his hands in his jean pockets. Then he entered the harsh lighting of the motion-detected beams above the doors. “You don’t look good.”

Because he didn’t. Steve made tired look good but he had met the line between tired and haggard. His lips were chapped and the lights above him put his eye sockets into harsh contrast. Billy missed the lush face he watched bathed in neon stage lights.

Steve only met Billy’s gaze briefly before looking back down the alley. “Haven’t been to the grocery store lately.”

“By ‘groceries,’ do you mean my place?”

“And if I do, then what?”

Billy smirked as easily as blinking. “I don’t recall firing you. You didn’t have to run—”

“Yes, I did. Dipshit.”

Billy moved his tongue over his teeth while he grinned. “Why didn’t you finish what he started? Three easy meals right there.”

“And swell up like a mosquito? Gross.”

Smoke sputtered out of his mouth. “You’re not what I expected. In any regard. It’s a wonder my employees haven’t been inspired by your recklessness. Or my letting you get away with it.”

“There’s no letting anything happen. We’re not all teeth. There’s nothing you could do if we don’t want it to happen. It’s the same on your side for humans.”

Billy’s next exhalation seeped out of his mouth. Slow. “Are you taking your time? Circling a stronger prey?” He tapped the ash off his cigarette, and watched Steve’s irises flick to the movement. “Most people come to me for my looks, money, or power. Is it the same for you?”

“No.”

That might’ve caught Billy off guard, if he didn’t feel gently nailed in place by Steve’s eyes lifting to his own. It was Billy’s turn to look down—down at the fingers grazing Billy’s hand as Steve reached for the cigarette. Took it.

“You’re easy prey because you’re already dying. You smoke a pack of these a day. The rest of the criminal cityscape would celebrate your funeral. A wolf’s goal is to eat. Not bragging rights—well. For the smart ones. We go for what’s easy.”

Glass-blue eyes wandered Steve’s face as he took a long inhalation. “I’ve never been called ‘easy’ in my entire life.”

Steve shrugged and—politely—aimed his lips to the side. Billy wondered how much he’d mind if Steve’s smoke graced his skin. “What can I say? We hunt the same way lions, tigers, and bears to. We go for what’s attainable with minimum effort.”

“You’re lazy.”

That overarching fringe bobbed over his head. Of course Steve had taken the time to style his hair. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Billy took his cigarette back with a huff. “I’ll decide later how insulted I should be. Until then, you’re the one looking like easy pickings.”

“You haven’t thrown anyone out of your place lately.”

That took an extra minute for Billy to process. “You…huh.”

Steve’s head moved with his eyes rolling onto him. “You don’t really think people in this city leave any bar without a fight, do you? I’ve had plenty of dinners on your tab.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Steve’s mouth lifted slightly in a skeptical grimace. “What’s the catch?”

Billy took his time with the last drag and stepped on the filter on his way to minimize the distance between them. “Explain to me why some pervert bites me and I’m fighting a hard on for two weeks?”

A rigid second passed, and then Steve crumbled into laughter. He laughed like a kid. A really cute little shit.

As Steve recovered, he heaved, “I’ve never heard anyone complain about the bite boners.”

Billy followed him as he reclined against the alley wall. “How about, instead of avoiding what’s really at play here, you admit to wanting to bite me. You’re usually on top of the rats that enter my business. But not that night.”

Steve stood on his own feet, making Billy feel the one inch he had on him. “And what if I did? What if it wasn’t your smell that made me crave, but jealousy?”

His musician’s bravado flickered when Billy’s tongue traced the edge of his bottom lip. “How do I smell?”

“Like smoked peaches.”

Steve was proving an annoying skill at making Billy dumbfounded. “What?”

He giggled anew. “Are you the type to fuck without kissing?”

Billy absorbed that and returned, “You like to kiss after blowjobs, don’t you?”

Steve wagged his head, so his words drifted back and forth over Billy’s mouth. “Yeah? So what?”

Billy inhaled deeply to make a show of sighing like humoring Steve’s romantic ethics was tiring him out—

Steve’s hands cradled his head with care, the soft sound of Billy’s hair scrunching underneath his fingers filling his ears as Steve licked inside Billy’s mouth. The latter’s jaw went slack, letting Steve in and meeting his tongue to taste him right back. Apart from the smoke, Steve tasted mutely sweet. The way a clean mouth does; the way a man should taste. Billy had always thought the way a person tasted was a uniquely intimate thing. Like a special piece of DNA could only be read with the tongue.

Steve’s tongue retreated so he could fully kiss Billy’s lips. When the lazy, soft pecks seemed to be Steve’s only intent, Billy gripped his shirtfront, the only warning he got before Billy licked the seam of his lips, wanting more. Wanting what they started.

“Mhm…is everything…a power trip with you?” Steve mumbled, but his breath shuddered when Billy pressed his hard groin against Steve’s pelvis.

“Bite me and fuck me—”

The lights went out, because they were tucked far enough behind a garbage bin for the motion detectors to not see them. Steve’s attention moved between these details and he uttered, “Next to the trash?”

Billy growled, “Ughh,” and hauled Steve off the brick and into his off-day business. “I should’ve guessed you were high maintenance.”

But right inside the doors, Billy tapped in the access code to a private elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Top floor penthouse.”

Steve snorted. “You’re like my cockatoo bragging about the highest swing.”

“You have a bird?”

“Yes, I have a bird! A little asshole named, Orchid. He whistles to all of my songs.”

“You’re the strangest excuse for a vampire I’ve ever seen.”

“And you are easy. Thanks for showing me the key to your house.”

Billy looked at him and met a toothy smirk. “Pisces, huh?”

The elevator dinged and Billy was too deep to back out now. He couldn’t tell which of them was the hunter, but he was ready to share a hell of a meal.

[bleh-bleh-blehs]

Paps and Cafes [T.H x Reader]

A/N- so hey I am back with my shitty fics. This is low-key based on my friend’s life and thanks to her for letting me write it down (only she knows what is the truth and what’s not). Anyways feel free to ignore:)

Summary- Is there any difference between being stressed at home than being stress at a cafe? Yes there is. You can put a show for others but in your case a certain someone came in for your aid. 

Warning- None 

Word Count- 1.6k

Life was not easy. Not as easy as you thought it would be. No one prepared you for the taxes, rent and bills. And literally no one told you how hard doing a job can be. Your salary was nothing compared to the hard work you did; the stress you took. 

You had no fun at all. Either you were too tired to go out and have a night out with your friends or you did extra office work for a bonus. Just like now. You are sitting in an outdoor cafe doing your office’s work when you could have been enjoying this weekend by relaxing. 

Why were you here?

Because you thought that it would be a good idea. You thought that it would refresh your mind, better than stupid small aparment. But guess what it wasn’t. 

You were still stressed. The people around were either on a date or were with their friends or family. Practically radiating good vibes. You tried not to stare at them but the task in our hand almost made you cry. 

Reaching out for the file beside the plate of donut; accidentally knocking the plate over. But you were too overwhelmed to care. Tightly clutching the file, tears of frustration evident in your eyes. It was getting too much now. 

“Come on Tess. We don't eat food off the floor. I am really sorry for your donut. Do you want me to buy you a new one?” the person asked. 

Looking up you saw a man wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap with hoodie on. You simply nodded your head in a no, wiping some tears away. “It’s okay. I don’t mind at all.” you gave a weak smile. Honestly you have lost your appetite. You just eat because it is necessary. 

“Can I ask if it was a chocolate donut? The man asked. 

“No, it was a plain one.” the man took the seat in front of you, taking off his glasses. “I know that this is none of my business but are you okay?” 

“Would you believe me if i said that I am.” 

“No. I just know that you are stressed because look at your table. All this stuff is giving me a headache so…. I think you should just wrap it up to clear your mind. And I don't wanna hear any excuse. okay? ” he didn’t press the matter further. He definitely doesn’t know what is going on in your life. All he knows is that he isn’t gonna leave you like this. 

You wanted to argue but it is not like anyone is this friendly to you on a daily basis. And a little walk wouldn’t harm. 

*

“You know what you should quit that job. I mean you don’t deserve being treated like that” tom said as he took the last bite of his ice cream. You still couldn’t believe that Tom Holland,the famous and successful actor, the heartthrob of almost all of the girls was talking to you.

He listened to you rant about your almost pathetic life and even bought you your favourite ice cream. 

You were of course shocked when you realised who he was despite him telling that he is a normal person like everyone else. He also squeezed your hand to reassure you that this is not a dream; that he is actually here. 

Both of you talked about your lives, likes and dislikes, hobbies. Only the basic stuff. You told him about your low salary job, your evil boss and your not so friendly coworkers. Your love life which was near to extinction. And about your parents who desperately wanted you to get settled.

“It’s not that easy Tom. I am looking for another job but I don’t know when I will find one. At least this job pays enough for food and shelter.” you told him or more like convinced yourself. 

Silence fell between you both until Tessa whimpered. She was obviously tired from the long walk and it was getting cold and windy as the sun started to set. “I guess this is where we part.” you said softly. Praying that this moment never ends. But of course that was not gonna happen. 

“Yeah.” he gave you a soft smile. And you were sure that you were giving the heart eyes. Making a fool of yourself as usual. 

“Oww!” 

“What? What happened?” 

“I got something in my eye.” you were hopelessly trying to get whatever the hell was in your eye out. “Wait a moment. Let me see.” Tom’s large hands cup your face while you get a hold on his arms out of instinct. 

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” it felt weird as his finger touched your eyeball. “Stop moving. You are making this harder than it already is!” you stopped fidgeting instantly. 

“There you go.” Tom backed away from you as you tried to blink away the uneasy feeling. “Let’s walk you home shall we?” Tom said as he picked very tired Tessa from the ground and carried her as if she was a toddler. 

“You don’t have to.” he just smiled. “I want to.” never in million years you thought that a top notch actor will walk you to your apartment. 

“I am sorry if I am intruding but I can’t believe you are not dating somebody and you just gave up on your friends. Is your job really worth it?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

“I am single by my choice not because of my job. My last relationship didn’t end well. She cheated on me and my “friends” took her side except my coworker Andy. I have got trust issues since then.” you explained him. 

“I am so sorry” he felt guilty to make you remember your relationship again. 

“Don’t be. I did go on a date once; the guy gave me a judgy look as soon as I told him that I am a bisexual. I mean do nice people just stop existing or what?” you huffed in annoyance. 

Meanwhile Tom was trying to process everything in his brain. He was actually starting to like you and was worried that you won’t feel the same way for him since you were into girls. But he heard word ‘bisexual’ his worries vanished. There is nothing stopping him from taking you on a date. 

Tom was smiling to himself until he heard the shutter of the camera went off. That could be only one thing. 

Paparazzi

Tom spotted two people not so far from them. Tessa tried to wiggle out of Tom’s arms but he didn’t let her. “Y/N hold my arm and keep up with my pace. The paps are here.” you immediately started to look up for them.  

“No Y/N don’t look for them!” Tom whisper yelled. 

The two of you walked as fast as you could. Taking the subway to go to your house. You and Tom stood close to each other, completely aware that someone recognised Tom and snuck some pictures of you both. 

Tessa whimpered again and again; the poor baby was too uncomfortable. You scratched her head to soothe her as she laid her head on Tom’s shoulder. While Tom was giving you heart eyes. 

You sighed in relief as you reached your apartment. The whole day has been a roller coaster ride for you. Tom and Tessa followed you behind you. Tessa quickly jumped on your couch, closing her eyes, trying to get some rest. 

“Do you want something to eat or drink?” you asked Tom. “No I am fine.” Tom said as he took a seat beside Tessa. 

“I didn’t really get to enjoy that cafe though.” Tom wondered out loud. “Don’t worry, there many more cafes in the neighbourhood. You can visit them sometime.” You were walking around your apartment, trying to clean it as much as you could. It’s not like you are visited by a celebrity daily. 

“I don’t know, maybe you can show me around sometime?” you freezed at your spot. Was Tom Holland asking you on a date. You were freaking out. You are just imagining things right? 

“Do you agree with me, darling?” he smirked. How dare him to say that! “It’s alright if you don’t. I mean I totally understand if you don’t want to. I am so sorry because of the paps. I didn’t know that they would find us. I am so sorry Y/N.” he started to ramble. Becoming that adorable sweet bean instantly.

“Oh my god Tom it’s alright. Not the Paparazzi part but I am grateful that Tessa ate my donut and that relieved my stress. I really needed someone like you. I don’t know what we can do about paps, they will just give more stress. But I felt better when you were with me.” Tom gave you that million dollar smile that everybody dies on. 

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now.” he confessed. 

“What’s stopping you then.” 

“No, not before I take you on an actual date.” he grinded. “Which cafe do you want to show me first, Donut?” 

“Donut?” you asked him while trying to control your laugh. “Yes donut. What’s so wrong with donut. It’s my nickname for you.” your smile became more wide than before. 

“Then what do you want me to call you? Ice cream?” 

“Yes?” he gave you a puzzled look. Not sure if he wanted to be called ‘ice cream’. And a thought came to your mind. “You don’t have any problem with me being bisexual?” you asked him. “Why would I? I mean it's not my place to judge or have a problem with it, now is it?” you smiled at his answer, already falling hard for this man.

page divider by @fancyxparker​

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[miramei]

Following the Monster Generation Interview 1.8: Kenma

INDEX || PREVIOUS || NEXT

College student; Stock Trader; Pro Gamer; Youtuber; President of Bouncing Ball Corporation

Kozume Kenma / KODZUKEN

Tokyo, at his home office

“Welcome.”

Kozume Kenma appeared in the entranceway.

“Thank you for having us!”

From behind Akane’s bowed head, Kuroo said: “Here, a gift*. Chestnut yōkan*.” He held out a paper bag from a long-established wagashi* shop.

“Hmm, thanks.”

“Um, I’m so sorry… I didn’t bring anything…!” Akane immediately and shamefully hid behind the faultless* Kuroo.

“It’s fine, I don’t really care that much,” Kozume answered her disinterestedly, showing the two of them in. “Come in.”

The three of them surrounded the living room table, and started to chat in front of yōkan and tea. Rather than an interview, it was more fitting to use the word get-together*. The atmosphere was warm and friendly.

“So, are we ready to go ahead with the interview?” Kuroo asked Kozume, and Akane’s face became gloomy.

“Mmm… first, when I was speaking to Ushijima-senshu it felt like I got a response, but Kageyama-senshu’s interview didn’t go very well, and I got a refusal from Oikawa-senshu…” Akane answered while chewing on a piece of youkan that was picked up with a toothpick. Kenma looked like he could sympathize. 

“Well, it’s Kageyama. It’ll be fine if you do it patiently. It’s not like you have a deadline.”

“But this is something like a developing story*! I want to finish everything by the next Olympics… After all, the next representatives of Japan will definitely be centered around the Monster Generation, won’t they?”

She looked at Kuroo. The person from the Volleyball Association smiled and evaded the question. “I never said that.”

“...Shrewd guy.”

Kenma sipped his tea and counted on his fingers: “Ushijima and Kageyama, in other words you’ve interviewed the Adlers… what about the Black Jackals?”

“Until I get paid, going to Kansai will be difficult. The latest match was in Kyushu*.”

Kuroo laughed as he saw Akane shrug her small shoulders. “Didn’t they include interview expenses and traveling expenses in the internship planning?”

“But I think that you can meet a lot of people when you keep up with the interviews at the matches. Also, if you have expenses and keep the receipts and file next year’s tax returns… well that’s what Enaga-san said but I still haven’t studied about money yet… I’ll do my best…”

“Should I introduce you to a good tax accountant?”

At Kozume’s words, Akane repeated: “T-tax accountant?”

“Right now, that won’t really help her with her previous problem. To start with, you should see if you can get a proper statement from what you’ve written down.” Akane had no choice but to respond with “I’ll do my best” to Kuroo’s reasonable points. 

That’s right. I have to write it down. The interviews have to have an objective. It’s important to find the answer to what makes my own “Monster Generation” from the stories that everyone will tell me.

As yet, it’s a problem of whether or not I can even properly do these interviews…

Maybe this project is even more difficult than I had thought? 

She felt daunted in spite of herself. Kozume spoke:

“How about this. Starting within Tokyo, isn’t it fine if you meet the people from Fukuroudani and Fukuroudani Group?”

“That’s a place to start,” Kuroo also nodded.

“That’s the joint training camp, right?”

If it’s that training camp, then Akane also knows about it. She remembered that her brother, Taketora, would leave the house on weekends and over summer break. I wanted to go and see what it was like too, and I even whined and threw tantrums about it.

“Yeah. Karasuno also came from Miyagi, and Bokuto-san was also there. If you’re going to follow the story of the Monster Generation then I think it’d be good to get a hold of the training camp experience.”

At Kozume’s suggestion, Kuroo smiled in satisfaction. “The perspective of a Youtuber is really reliable.”

“Shut up.”

It was decided that Kuroo would get in contact with those related to Fukuroudani, and Akane finally moved onto another of today’s objectives.

“Um, it might be a bit late, but if that’s alright with you?” she said, turning on the recorder. “Why did Kenma-kun become Hinata-senshu’s sponsor?” she asked.

“Eh, because it seemed interesting.”

At that answer, Kuroo smiled wryly. “Other people’s lives aren’t content.”

“It’s fine, he’s playing a sport after all,” Kozume said, sulkily reaching for his tea. Kuroo might have said it as a joke, but even so Akane couldn’t help but worry about it. 

“I wonder if my interviews are also turning other people’s lives into contents…”

“What are you saying now? This guy himself is content,” Kuroo laughed while pointing to Kozume.

“What’s wrong with that?” After he answered like that, Kozume turned to look firmly at Akane. “Interviews can be interesting things. I’m looking forward to it.”

“...Y-yes!”

An interesting thing, huh.

Everyone is under so much pressure. I wonder if Hinata-senshu can also feel this kind of pressure in Brazil…?

Once again, she felt daunted and trembled.

As expected, this interview might be really difficult. But because I decided that I would do it, definitely, I have to live up to expectations! 

Kozume asked Akane, who had recovered her motivation: “Hey, normally, shouldn’t Tora be here?”

At these words, Akane smiled guiltily. “If my brother was a cooler player, I would be securely holding onto an exclusive interview!” 

The two men exchanged looks.

“What a reliable little sister.”

“Way too severe…“

Translation notes:

* 手土産：a gift you bring while visiting someone's house.

* 羊羮：Jellied dessert made from red bean paste, agar, and sugar.

* 和菓子屋：Japanese-style confectionery shop

* I couldn’t figure out a translation that didn’t make me laugh but basically this refers to how Kuroo was displaying amazing manners by properly bringing a gift while visiting compared to Akane who has nothing.

* 団欒: gathering together (in a circle round a table, etc.) to have a pleasant and fun time.

* 現在進行形: literally present progressive tense. I took great liberties here.

* Akane is paying for her travel expenses out of her own pocket because she doesn’t want to deal with the complications of turning in expense receipts and dealing with the tax return. Japan’s tax returns are notoriously difficult to navigate, and she’s just a college student, so I don’t blame her. Kyushu is absolutely out of her budget, but because Kansai is closer it would be something to consider when she gets her paycheck. For comparison, the Adlers home base is in Tokyo, and while her brother is in Kanagawa she only called him. That’s why Kenma gives her more Tokyo suggestions to help her stay in budget.

Notice:

※ I’m doing this mostly as an exercise to practice my Japanese reading comprehension ※ Some translations are adjusted to flow better in English because we play fast and loose with the power of language comprehension ※ I am only one person and I am doing this for fun ※ PLEASE DO NOT RE-POST any of my translations ※ If you like these please consider buying the physical book. I bought my copy from Kinokuniya.

[jensengirl83]

Regret and Redemption Chapter Three

Summary-Reader has left Dean after he was caught cheating. Dean tries to prove that he can do better and wants the reader to come back home. 

AU Mechanic!Dean x reader

Word count-2592

Warnings- Angst, heartbreak, language

A/N- series cover designed and mad by @talesmaniac89​

It had been a little over a week since Y/N had gone by their home that morning to get her belongings. Dean had been served with the separation papers; she knew that because he had blown up her phone with calls and texts that she hadn’t answered. She couldn’t talk to him; she was taking the separation as hard as he was, except none of this had been her fault. Or had it been? She had been pondering over their whole relationship for the last week. She had wondered if some of the reasons he cheated could have been her fault. Had she not been attentive enough? Could she have spent more time with him and less writing her novels? The scenarios had played over and over in her head, always with the same outcome. If he had a problem he should have come and talked to her, not screw his secretary and God knew who else.

Y/N had managed to find a decent apartment across town. She had picked this one simply because of the distance it was away from the home she had loved. She still couldn’t believe this had happened to her. Dean had been such a loving husband in the beginning. Y/N could see the decline in his behavior now that she looked back on it. She wished there was something she could have done to keep her marriage intact, but it was too little too late now.

Dean sat in his office staring at the separation papers that he had gotten a few days ago. His heart ached every time he looked at them. She was serious and didn’t want to be his wife anymore. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He had never felt so lonely as he had the last week she wasn’t there when he got home. The empty side of her bed had been taunting him every time he walked in the room. He had been sleeping on the couch since she left, not able to sleep in their bed alone. Dean picked up his phone and sent her another text. She hadn’t responded to him since she walked away the morning he trashed the house, but he was going to keep trying.

Y/N stood in the kitchen of her new apartment when she heard her phone ding. She knew who it was, but she wanted to make sure. She should have never unblocked his number, but her uncle advised that she needed to let him have a way to contact her for their legal proceedings. She opened her phone to look at who had texted her.

Dean: I love you Y/N and I’m sorry.

She had been right. She wanted to cry and scream at the same time. Her heart ached as she missed her husband, but she also was beyond angry at him. Her emotions had been all over the place the last week. The nights were the hardest. She had not slept alone in over six years. Even with what he had done, she missed his warmth at night. He had betrayed her, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t once loved him with her whole being and missed the feeling of his body cuddled behind hers. She had been brought back from her daydream by the sound of her phone.

“Hello Dean,” Y/n said with annoyance evident in her voice.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean said, hoping she wouldn’t hang up on him.

“Please don’t call me that Dean,” Y/N sighed. “We aren’t together anymore.”

“Yes, we are Y/N! You didn’t file for divorce. You filed for separation,” he said, a little annoyed himself.

“Obviously you got the papers but decided not to read them,” she said harshly. “We are legally separated, Dean. That means we are not considered married, but not divorced.”

“What the hell is the point in that?! Why not just file for divorce?” Dean asked her, not understanding the point.

“Because my uncle and my publicist thought this would be the best thing right now for tax purposes. It’s just until my new book comes out and we can figure out what we are going to do with our assets,” she said, “then I will file for a divorce, Dean.”

“You sure that’s what you want, Y/N?” Dean asked her through clenched teeth.

“No Dean, this isn’t what I wanted! I wanted my husband to love me and be faithful to me, but that was obviously too much to ask of you!” Y/N yelled through the phone.

“I do love you Y/N!” Dean shouted back.

“You know how much I wish it would have been enough?” Y/N said through tears as she hung up the phone.

Dean threw his phone across his office after she had hung up. Her words had destroyed him, the truth in them cutting to the bone. He realized at that moment that he hadn’t loved her enough. She hadn’t had his whole heart in a long time and that had been his fault. The booze and the ego boost he had been getting from other women had taken a spot that should have been completely hers.

The next week had flown by and Y/N was grateful. She had been so busy with her publicist getting everything ready for her book launch that she hadn’t had time to ponder on her situation much. Her publicist had set up a book launch party at a huge venue in Kansas City. She didn’t want to throw a party with the mood she had been in, but her publicist said it would really help get the word out. The release party had been scheduled for the following night and she wasn’t looking forward to it. She decided to go to bed and try to get some sleep so she would at least look like her life was together the next evening.

She woke up the next morning with a horrible feeling of dread. She couldn’t quite place it, but she felt like something was going to happen that night. She tried to shake the thought away as she made her way to the shower to get the day going. She had to get all dolled up and that took time and the venue was a four-hour drive. Luckily her publicist had hired her a private car so she could relax on the way there.

Y/N had caught up on her emails and went over her itinerary on the drive, anything to keep her mind occupied. Dean had always accompanied her to this type of thing because he knew they sometimes triggered her anxiety. He had at least been good to her in that way. If only he hadn’t betrayed her and broke her heart, she wouldn’t have to do this alone tonight.

Y/N could feel the anxiety building as they pulled up to the venue. There was already a crowd that had formed outside and all she could think was that she would rather be home. She held her breath as the driver came to open her door for her to step out. She took his hand as he helped her out onto the sidewalk and into the throngs of people. In all the hecticness of trying to get inside, she hadn’t noticed the sleek black Impala parked across the street.

Dean stood back in a corner with a whiskey in his hand as she walked through the door. She looked absolutely beautiful. His heart pounded in his chest, and he hoped she wouldn’t make a scene when she realized he was here. He knew what these things did to her anxiety and he wanted to prove that he still loved her and wanted to be there for her, to show her that he could be the man he was when they had first started dating. He silently prayed that he could prove himself to her.

Dean watched her for a while as she made her way around the room. Y/N had always been the sweet ‘girl next door’ type. No one around her could tell how uncomfortable all this made her, but he could. He could see the nervous twitch in her hands and hear how her voice would rise an octave as she spoke. He had always found that so endearing about her. She would never see herself as the beautiful, intelligent, joyful woman that she was. He had taken that joy from her and he would never forgive himself for that.

“Hi, Y/N! I am so excited to read your new book!” a woman she didn’t know had said to her.

“Thank you. I really hope you enjoy it,” Y/N said with a nervous smile. God, she hated to do stuff like this.

“Hey Y/N. I’m looking forward to the new book. Where’s Dean?” she had heard someone ask. Y/N was frozen to her spot. She didn’t want to talk about her failed marriage to people she barely knew.

“I’m sorry I’m late sweetheart! Traffic was just awful,” his voice had her spinning on her heels. There stood Dean in his three-piece suit.

“What the hell are you doing here Dean?” she whispered in his ear as she leaned in to give him a hug. She didn’t want anyone asking questions about their marriage.

“Y’all mind if I steal my beautiful wife away for a minute?” Dean asked with a fake smile.

Everyone nodded as he linked her arm through his and walked her to a more private place to talk. He could feel how tense she was and knew most of that was because of him, but he knew she wouldn’t make too much of a scene.

“What the hell Dean?!” she asked as they rounded the corner into an empty hallway. “How did you even know about this?!”

“I got an email. You forgot to unlink my email from your list on your itinerary,” Dean said with a small chuckle.

“Dammit! I knew I was forgetting something... but why did you show up?” Y/N asked him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I know how you get when you have to do this stuff. I wanted to be here for you and I’m sure you didn’t want to answer questions about us tonight,” he said, trying to be honest with her.

“Sure Dean, you showing up here is all about me,” she said as she rolled her eyes.

“I know you don’t believe me, sweetheart...” he was cut off by the glare she was giving him. “Sorry, Y/N. I’m telling you the truth though. I was worried about you and I want to try and prove to you that I’m sorry,” Dean said sadly.

“Dean, I don’t know what to tell you. You broke me. I will never be able to trust you again,” she said as she looked away.

“I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m just asking you to give me a chance to prove that I know I fucked up!” Dean said, almost begging her.

“It won’t change anything Dean. We aren’t going to ever be together again,” she fought back tears as she said those words.

“At least let me play your husband for the rest of the night. I don’t want everyone knowing what’s going on until we have everything figured out,” he said as he reached out his hand.

Y/N looked at Dean and to his hand quite a few times before she finally took his hand. They walked back out to the main hall to the crowd of people that were there for her. She had to stop and talk to a few people as Dean looked around the venue. It had been decorated a lot like their wedding reception had. That thought gave him an idea as he excused himself and snuck to the sound booth.

Y/N had been talking to people for what seemed like an eternity. She had finally made her way to the bar that had been set up to get a drink. Y/N had never been much of a drinker, but she felt like she could use a gallon of it tonight. She had been looking around to see if she could find where Dean had gone when his voice beside her made her jump.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dean said with a laugh.

“It’s ok, I wasn’t expecting you to be right beside me. What were you saying?” she asked, taking a drink of her whiskey.

“I said that the night is almost over, and we haven’t danced,” he said to her with that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Yeah, and we aren’t going to,” she said, looking out at all the people on the dance floor that had been set up.

“Don’t you think people will find it odd that you didn’t dance with your husband? Considering we have always danced together at these things,” Dean whispered in her ear.

“Fine! No funny business Dean. I want to get this over with and go home,” Y/N said as she held her hand out to him.

Dean led her onto the dance floor. He placed her arms around his neck and then slid his hands down to her hips. He started to lightly sway them to the beat as he looked over her shoulder and nodded. Y/N had noticed but didn’t care to ask. He had probably just seen someone he knew. The notes to the song faded away as the notes to the next one began. It had only taken her seconds to recognize the melody: “Wild Horses” by The Rolling Stones. It was their wedding song, the first song they had danced to as husband and wife.

Dean felt her tense as the song began to play. He had hoped that hearing it would bring back good memories and make her miss what they had. He wrapped his arms around her tighter to hold her to him, afraid she would run if he didn’t. He could hear the sniffles and feel her tears on his chest. His heart was breaking, this had not gone as planned. He hadn’t even finished his thought when she pulled away and ran for the door. Dean was right behind her; he grabbed her arm as she was reaching for the car door.

“Y/N, please just wait!” Dean begged her.

“No! How could you do that to me? Did you really think that playing our wedding song was going to make me come back to you after what you did? Let go of me!” she yelled as she yanked her arm away from him.

“Baby, please! I miss you, Y/N! I fucking miss my wife!” Dean shouted as she opened the car door to get in.

“You should have thought about that before you cheated on me, Dean! Please, just get away from me,” she said, completely defeated.

The look on her face and the desperation in her voice made him step back. He stood on the sidewalk and watched as she disappeared. This had completely backfired. He just wanted his wife back and would do anything to prove it to her. He knew what he had to do, but was terrified to make the call. Dean pulled out his phone and dialed the number and listened as the phone began to ring.

“Please don’t hang up! I really need your help!” he pleaded to the person on the other end of the phone. “I know I have no right to ask you, but she will listen to you. Will you help me please?”

@flamencodiva​​ @sorenmarie87​​ @foxyjwls007​​ @waywardbeanie​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @voltage-my2dlove​​ @hardcoresupernatural​​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @lyarr24​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @akshi8278​ @midsummereve1993​ @sutton2001​ @emory91​ @halesandy​ @miss-nerd95​ @ellewritesfix05​ @bxbyizzy​ @winchest09​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @defenderrosetyler​ @hobby27​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @talesmaniac89​ @deanwanddamons​ @atc74​ @superfanficnatural​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @supernatural-love14​ @vicmc624​ @squirrelnotsam​ @tatted-trina6​ @xhannahbananax03​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @nihilismworld​ @winchester-wifey​ @mrsfox79​ @malfoysqueen14​ @moron225​ @deans-baby-momma​

[bitchesgetriches]

Hey bitches, let's dream. What would you do with a no strings attached $10k, $100k and $1m donation to BGR?

Oh. OH.

This question made my brain blush with serotonin. I will happily answer this.

If we had $10K, we would hire a part-time assistant to help us. The funny thing is: when you do something you really love, you only do The Thing Itself a small fraction of the time. We have all of Season 2 of the podcast recorded, but it takes us months to release because we’re doing all the research, editing, writing, and promotional stuff ourselves. I often sit down intending to write, only to end up working on taxes and updating security certificates. All that invisible administrative work is a drag, and it would be awesome to have a little help with it.

A lot of folks in our position have one or more virtual assistants to help them. It’s very affordable, if you hire someone in a low cost of living country. I’m not gonna say we would never do that, because I’m willing to do what it takes to grow our audience and help more people.

But...ugh. It just doesn’t jive with our ethos?

Like. BGR is a sisterhood founded in a shared dream of promoting economic justice and empowerment. We couldn’t add an assistant unless we found someone who was really fired up about our mission and we enough money to show them respect for their time. $10K would be enough to pay someone $20/hour for 10 hours of admin work per week. That would be totally life-changing for BGR.

If we had $100K, we would both make this our full-time job. 2020 is the first year we’ve paid ourselves through BGR. I cannot thank our Patreon donors enough for their support. It is so meaningful, ESPECIALLY now that Piggy has lost her job.

But, real talk: the last time I calculated it out, Piggy and I were paying ourselves about...$3/hour.

The overwhelming majority of our donors give $1/month. Those donations mean the world to us, because we know they’re likely coming from folks who don’t have more to give! But, you know, we write from our hearts, and that takes a lot of spoons. We have to balance against our day job (or hunting for a new day job, in Piggy’s case) and activities that refill the cup: eating, showering, sinking 200 hours into a video game I only sorta liked, etc.

We have considered lots of options for additional monetization, and rejected pretty much all of them, because we just can’t get away from the idea that it’s unethical to charge poor people money for advice on how to stop being poor. We’ve had lots of sponsorship offers; we’ve even had major financial companies inquire about buying Bitches Get Riches. Ego-stroking and wallet-filling as that is, we don’t think it’s in our fans’ best interest.

The donor model feels good to us right now. We hope that the people we’ve helped will remember us and pay it forward by donating. It’s not giving us rent money, but it’s grocery money. And we stan groceries. But seriously, if someone handed BGR a hundred geez, I wouldn’t even send in my letter of resignation---just fling my work computer onto the lawn of my old office and see how long it took for them to stop sending me paychecks. They’re awfully bureaucratic, it could take a while!

Telling you what we would do if we had $1M requires some embarrassing dream-disclosures, but hey, let’s do it! I had to leave home when I was 17. And I did some really risky things to get by on my own. Now, everything worked out well for me in the end! But I got help from a lot of strangers. Many of them were wise older women who never asked questions, just gave me what they could: a spare room, a job, a place at their table on Christmas. BGR is very much my attempt to do what was done for me, on the widest scale I possibly can.

But if I had a milly?

Ho mah gad, this is embarrassing, but...

My won-the-lottery dream has always been to buy land somewhere beautiful, and build a bunch of tiny-home style cabins around a big main house. Half would be rented out to artists working on finishing a project (writing their book, programming their game, whatever). The income from those rentals would subsidize the other half of the cabins, which would be free short-term housing for people who need help getting out of shitty situations.

I would live at the big house and manage the property. I’d cook delicious family dinners, and invite interesting speakers, and create a safe and inspiring environment for my guests. We’d have a bunch of old rescued animals around too, because animals can do so much to put life into perspective and teach you how to be kind to yourself AND ALSO BECAUSE ANIMALS ARE V. CUTE.

Obviously BGR would live on, with this sanctuary as its headquarters. With more opportunities to come together in-person, we could host seminars and retreats and conferences. (A pressing need, since the guy who runs our main industry conference took a hard right turn onto MAGA Alley and got canceled faster than a critically-acclaimed LGBT tv show.)

Sorry, Piggy, in this dream, you and Bear would have to come live with us. I know how much you hate the outdoors, loathe home improvement projects, dread serving huge Italian family-style dinners, despise the thought of teaching city people how to fish, and weep at the idea of playing your guitar out on the lawn while interesting, kind people talked quietly and sipped wine and tapped away on their laptops until the fireflies came out. You said I could answer this question, so you don’t get a say, tough titties.

Thank you for asking this lovely question. The time I wasted on this daydreaming has me fired up for doing all the other things I have to do today! Like editing all these dagum podcast files. I’ll see about getting episode one dropped tomorrow-ish.

What about you guys? What would YOU do?

[detectiveinchicago]

Sparks Fly: Chapter 10

Chapters list here

Note: Hi guys! I’m sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I had problems with chapter 9 too, Tumblr deleated chapter 9 idk why. Thank u for all the comments and reviews, you are amazing. If you want to be tag in this story please let me know. English is not my first language. Enjoy xxx.

DISCLAIMER: GIF IS NOT MINE.

WARNING: Bad language, mental illness, PTSD and drugs mentions. 

What smell was that? Lemon maybe? Caitlyn could feel her head throbbing. She was going to need an urgent Tyrol. Why did her eyelids suddenly feel so heavy? How long had she been asleep? Light. Why was there so much light? Couldn’t someone turn it off? Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the white light. She opened her eyes slowly as she concentrated on the beeping of the machines.

“You’re awake.” Why was Kenny even talking to her? God, was last night a dream? Judging by the pain in her shoulder, she could tell it had been real. She finally finished blinking and turned her head on the pillow to see him. He had a bruise on his jaw she was sure he hadn’t in the warehouse. 

“Who did you fight with?” Caitlyn asked in a raspy voice, “What happened to your face?”

“Your brother punch me” Kenny replied

“Oh, God” Caitlyn muttered “I’m sorry” she added embarrassed 

“He’s furious that you didn’t tell him we were married” Kenny informed her, “I think you missed that little piece of information, it was a beautiful family reunion”

“My brother and I are not exactly on good terms” Caitlyn replied with a small cough.

“Were you ever on good terms?” he asked raising his eyebrows, pouring a glass of water and offering it to Caitlyn

“Thanks” Caitlyn drank “FYI, the relationship is worse than ever, did Will intervene?”

“To be honest, he was more concerned about your medical history.”

“Of course” Caitlyn replied, “Did you ...?”

“Yes, no latex, no penicillin, and no opioids” Kenny informed her. Caitlyn smirked, he still remembered it.

“Did Will try to stop Jay?” she asked out of curiosity

“I think he was too shocked to think” Kenny said, “Jay tried to make me his punching bag in the waiting room” He said. Caitlyn lowered her gaze to look at his knuckles and Kenny seemed to read her thoughts “I didn’t hit him, I have my anger under control, thank you very much for asking” replied the annoyed by his gesture.

“I said nothing Kenny” Caitlyn replied

“But you thought about it” he replied, getting up from the chair next to her bed.

“Why are you coming if you’re always going to be mad at me over nothing” Caitlyn rolled her eyes

“Well, even if you haven’t been there for me when I needed you, I’m here for you” Kenny replied dryly before heading out the room. Caitlyn leaned her head against the pillow. Perfect. Yet another problem to add to the list. She closed her eyes. Maybe she should get some more sleep. Her shoulder was killing her. Where were opioids when she needed them?

“Caitlyn! Your husband told me you were already awake”

Dammit. She just wanted to go back to sleep.

“He’s not ... Never mind” Caitlyn mumbled “Good to see you again Dr. Marcel”

“I’d say the same if it weren’t because every time I see you you’ve been stabbed,” Dr. Marcel said and Caitlyn smirked, “And because you altered Maggie’s waiting room”

“Sorry about that” she wrinkling her nose “I’m sure it was a disaster”

“I thought it was going to be worse, to be honest” Dr. Marcel replied as he took some notes from the monitors and a nurse walked through the door “Dr. Choi and I were ready to intervene but your husband never raised a finger” he informed her as Caitlyn raised her eyebrows.

“Really?” she said “We have been separated for almost five years, technically he is my husband but we are not together” Caitlyn commented to the doctor as the nurse changed her bandage.

“Maggie must surely still be mad at Jay for disturbing the order in the ED” The nurse told her with a small smile

“Will told me that Maggie rules the ED” Caitlyn answered causing a laugh from both

“He’s not wrong” Dr. Marcel replied, “You don’t want to mess with Maggie”

“I’ll write that down for future references,” Caitlyn said with a brief smile.

“Since the stab was in your shoulder and provided that no nerves were damaged, you just needed 48 hours in here so you will leave tonight”

“Tonight? I have slept for almost a day?” Caitlyn asked 

“Yes, it’s 6AM so you still need to wait for tonight” Dr. Marcel answered, “You will need to rest Caitlyn for a few weeks and you won’t be able to chase anyone for almost a month until you come back here”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, “I forgot how much I hate to be hurt”

“You guys need to get a hobby” Dr. Marcel answered shaking his head “Cops keep telling me how much they hate to on desk duty”

“I don’t have time for a hobby and all the hobbies I have are sports” Caitlyn told him while the nurse finished taking a blood sample. 

“I would also recommend you to take painkillers” Dr. Marcel added writing something down in her file. 

“Opioids?” Caitlyn asked while he looked at him.

“He told me you have some history with oxy” and by “he”, Caitlyn assumed Dr. Marcel was talking about Kenny “But we have to sedate you to remove the bullet and then we gave you small doses of painkillers” 

“You must have seen my file, I had a lot of things when I was a teenager and I was really closed with oxy” Caitlyn said. 

“Don’t worry but you will have to monitor your pain in case you need them” Dr. Marcel informed her “How much pain from one to ten do you have?”

“Maybe a seven” Caitlyn answered

“That’s not so bad,” Marcel told her, “We can work with that, I will see you next week, if you feel your pain increasing you call me” He finished before getting off her room. 

“Hey “ O.A greeted standing at the door with Jess, Clinton, Hanna and Sheryll.

“Hey guys” Caitlyn smiled briefly

“How you feel?” Sheryll asked, sitting in the chair that Kenny previously occupied.

“As if a truck had hit me” Caitlyn replied sitting on the bed

“You were lucky the guy had such poor aim” Clinton replied, “He was close to the neck”

“Please” Caitlyn replied “I’m a tough bitch, he needs more than a stab to kill me”

“I told you she will say that” Hanna told Clinton.

“What happened with the case?” Caitlyn asked.

“It turns out that this guy was a psychopath as we expected, but he was medicated, sometimes he had these breaks where he went out to kill” Jess informed her about the case “He stopped taking the medication, accumulating the prescribed pills and with that, he drugged his victims “

“We think he started accumulating pills a year ago after his mother died,” Sheryll added.

“I took the trouble to take a picture frame of her mother, look at this” Hanna said handing her a bag of evidence. Caitlyn took it and raised her eyebrows.

“She looks just like Amelia Roberts” Caitlyn observed.

“And similar to all his other victims” Hanna added, “She was an exotic dancer before she became a prostitute”

“We talked to some neighbors, and they lived in the same house their whole lives, the neighbors said that the mother was quite a character and not in a good way” Sheryll informed her.

“How many victims?” Caitlyn asked.

“Fifty-five at the moment but labs are still running” Jess replied.

“And the lipstick?” Clinton added, “The mother had a box full of red lipstick”

She took a brief nap after her friends left, promising to meet them that night for a drink at a bar called Molly’s. They were going to join her brother’s unit for a job well-done celebration. They had discovered who the murderer was and he would spend a lot of time behind bars.

“Hey” her brother Will greet her “Marcel told me you looked good”

“It still hurts though” Caitlyn commented giving him a small smile.

“You and Jay must stop getting shot or stabbed or you’re going to drive me crazy” Will muttered taking a seat in the chair next to her while Caitlyn giggled “Kenny was still here” Will committed causing her to turn to look at him, “I told him to go to rest but he seemed to be angry when he left“ he added curious

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, “He’s always mad at me”

“You know Jay wanted to kill him when he found out, right?” Will added by pouring a glass of water to his sister and handing it to her.

“Dr. Marcel told me, did Kenny hit him?” Caitlyn asked curiously to see what story her brother was going to tell her.

However, Will confirmed Marcel and Kenny’s story.

“He didn’t raise his hand” Will shrugged “Jay was being a jerk, I probably would have hit him if I were Kenny.”

Caitlyn shifted uncomfortably in bed for having judged Kenny too quickly, although she would continue to maintain that her husband had gotten angry with her for no reason.

“So ...” Will began, “Are you going to tell me how this all happened?”

“We got married and then we weren’t married anymore” Caitlyn replied and her brother rolled his eyes “Truth is, nobody ever made me feel like Kenny”

Will raised his eyebrows “That’s a revealing confession isn’t it?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes “Shut up”

“Why didn’t you get divorced? You’re not together, ” Will asked curiously.

“It was too painful at the time to see us again and then it was just easier to stay married, the taxes and all that” Caitlyn replied distractedly, although she never believed she could have the courage to let Kenny go for good.

“Are you telling me you didn’t get a divorce because of your taxes?” Will asked, raising his eyebrows.

Caitlyn glared at him “It’s harder than you think, Kenny will probably always be my great love”

Will nearly choked on his glass of water, “Excuse me?”

“It’s ... difficult” Talking about her feelings with her brother was harder than she thought “My feelings are complicated; God, I’m doomed” Caitlyn snorted, resting her head on the pillow.

“I couldn’t tell you if it’s bad or not, but he seemed worried about you when you came” Will commented, scrutinizing her.

“PTSD sucks” Caitlyn told him “It’s what ruined my marriage”

----flashback----

Even though Kenny had PTSD he had never had major problems, yes he had nightmares, yes he sometimes had bad and terrible days, and yes he had seizures but Caitlyn knew herself that coming back from the war was more than difficult. That’s why she didn’t judge him. She understood him and tried to give Kenny space when he needed it.

However, they had a case where a veteran sniper with PTSD, a war hero, had killed five people after his best friend, another soldier, committed suicide. Caitlyn knew that her husband was struggling. She had mixed feelings about the case, but Kenny was showing signs of stress. The night before she was sure that he had not closed an eye and he was quiet. 

That night Caitlyn had fallen asleep while Kenny was still watching television. However, she woke up hours later to moans and complaints coming from her husband. When she settled into bed still half asleep herself, she saw Kenny shifting between the sheets and murmuring in his sleep. Caitlyn looked at him carefully. Should she wake him up? That was probably her first mistake.

“Kenny” called Caitlyn moving him by the shoulder and approaching his face “Kenny, wake up”.

Kenny opened his eyes suddenly and Caitlyn received a punch that destabilized her and made her back up before she could even move, Kenny had her arms immobilized to the bed.

“Kenny!” Caitlyn moved to escape his grip “Kenny!” she exclaimed again as he left her arms and started choking her “Kenny is me” she said raising her arms and trying to touch his face as she felt the air escaping from her throat “Ken ...” she repeated unable to finish his name due to lack of air.

When she saw spots in her vision and as her arms tried to touch her husband’s face, she moved her legs and kicked him in the testicles. To which Kenny responded by coming out of his reverie and leaning over on the bed in pain.

Caitlyn crawled out of bed to the floor as she tried to catch her breath. Once she could stop seeing dots in her vision, she got up on shaking legs and locked herself in the bathroom. She slid through the door to the floor and sat there as she tried to get all the air back into her lungs. Caitlyn knew how PTSD worked, she believed that everyone who returned from the war somehow had PTSD, if it wasn’t for the war it was for life.

She didn’t judge Kenny, but she had to admit that being attacked by the person sleeping next to you in bed was scary on another level. You think she would be used to that kind of thing and she was, but not at home, in the place where she was supposed to be safe. She hated to admit it but it was the same feeling she had when she was still living with her father, walking around looking over her shoulder because she never knew when she was going to get a bottle from the back. And she hated to admit it too, but Kenny in that state scared her a little. She knew that in her work she looked fearless and reckless, but deep down she just wanted to feel safe and have someone to hug her at night.

Caitlyn walked over to the mirror and noticed that her cheek was swelling and that her neck had grip marks. She got out of the bathroom and went to the kitchen in search of ice to get high; she sat on the couch while tilting her head, holding the ice.

He had already suggested therapy, a dozen times at least, Caitlyn had begged Kenny to go to therapy for him and when she noticed he didn’t want to do it she asked him to at least do it for her. It didn’t work either. He insisted that he was fine.

Caitlyn leaned back in the chair with her head spinning and fell asleep. The next morning, she awoke to the sound of the coffeepot and as she remembered what had happened the night before, Kenny offered Caitlyn a cup and sat next to her. They both sit in silence, taking the first sips of coffee. Kenny reached out and ran his fingers across Caitlyn’s neck. She just looked at him and pouted.

“I’m sorry” He said finally.

“I know” Caitlyn replied.

“I’m sorry” Kenny repeated “I didn’t come to tell you yesterday because I thought you wouldn’t want to see me”

Caitlyn fell silent and took another sip of coffee.

“You’re good?” she asked after a while.

“Yes,” Caitlyn replied turning to look at him “It doesn’t hurt, but I’m going to report sick for work on Monday, I don’t think the swelling will go down by then” She could tell that he felt guilty, however that wasn’t enough for her.

----flashback----

“Do you have PTSD?” Will asked her.

“Nope, Kenny used to but I think we all have PTSD, if it’s not war, it’s life” Caitlyn answered looking at him “He used to have episodes and he refused to go to therapy” she added “so I left, I didn’t want to repeat cycles”

“Like dad?” Will asked curiously 

“Yes, like dad” Caitlyn answered briefly and Will could tell she was in a bad place “Dad got the worst out of me”

“What do you mean?” Will asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“He made me feel on the edge all the time” Caitlyn answered looking aside “I never knew what was going to happen, he made me feel anxious”  

“Dad was complicated”

“Dad was more than just complicated,” She said “I was just a teenager and he was such a bad person, I was supposed to enjoy the senior year and instead I ended up almost drunk every day”

“How could you…?”

“I ended up in hospitals, a lot” Caitlyn explained “And doctors gave me oxy, a lot”

“At that time I thought you were still going to Stanford” Will whispered “I’m sorry” he added taking her hand into his.

“It’s okay” Caitlyn said, “Truth is; it was easier to explain my injuries since I used to be an athlete, doctors believe me”

“I’m sorry” Will repeated.

“I know, I’m afraid that I will become addict to oxy at any second, the doctor once told me I wasn’t abusing pain killers because I was in real pain because of my injuries” Caitlyn confessed “But I realized know that I was really closed of becoming an addict”

“I saw your medical record, you needed those painkillers,” Will told her “I wished that Jay and I had been more attentive”

“I know you tried, I mean, I have been angry all these years but you are trying now and that’s enough for me to talk to you at least,” Caitlyn said with a little smile “Because Jay is definitely not talking to me”

“He is just trying to do things right” Will added

Caitlyn rolled her eyes “You should have seen how he looked at me when we were working, he hates me”

“He doesn’t hate you, he is just angry” Will told her. 

“If you say so” She answered unconvinced 

“You should talk to him” Will suggested. 

“I will not talk with him, if he wants to talk then he should come to me” Caitlyn answered. If there was one thing Caitlin and Jay shared, it was that they were both stubborn when it came to pride. Will doubted either of them would give their arm to twist.

“You are both so stubborn” Will said, shaking his head.

“Stubbornness is in the family” Caitlyn answered briefly.

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

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[nastasyafilippovnas]

Santhony + 37 :))

thank you!! <33

santhony + 37. meeting in prison au (wc: 1.4k)

One of the main reasons for Anthony to take the job with Featherington Law was never, ever, having to practice criminal law and visit a prison. The one time he went to one during university was more than enough. He would not be like so many of his classmates, going from precinct to precinct looking for clients, defending traffickers and murders. That was beneath a Bridgerton. Business and Tax Law, on the other hand, was just the type of legal work that ensured a comfortable and rich future, without dealing with the most unsavory elements of society.

And yet, here he was twenty miles south of London,  after a forty minutes hell drive, in front of Her Majesty's Prison Bronzefield. Turns out, you don’t have much choice when you’re the youngest lawyer at your firm and the mistress of one of your most important clients just got arrested and put on remand. 

Anthony sighed in frustration, taking his belongings out of his pockets to pass them through the scanner while he went through the metal detector. Thankfully, as lawyers, they didn’t not have to suffer through the indignity of a body search. 

“Counselor”, the guard returned his belongings to him, “you can see her now. First door to right.”

Anthony nodded in thanks and proceeded to the room in question. The other guard at the door opened the door to him. 

“She is already inside, sir.” 

Anthony didn’t know what he was expecting of Sir Nigel Berbrooke’s mistress. Some bubbly blonde with large assets and legs for days, maybe. Definitely not this.

Miss Rosso was already sitting at the table, her hands shacked in front of her. She was small, five foot two, maybe five three, from what he could guess. The prison’s uniform was clearly a size too big and engulfed her. Her skin was olive-toned and she had beautiful long brown hair, tied back in a pony tail. She also had the sharpest eyes he had ever seen, narrowed at him. 

Anthony could already tell she didn’t trust him one bit. 

“Miss Rosso”, he said in greeting, sitting at the only other available chair in the room, in front of her. “My name is Anthony Bridgerton. I was sent here to represent you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you during your arrest hearing, but I’ll be with you in the next one.” 

“You look expensive.” She commented, assessing him. The well-cut black suit, the polished shoes, the Mont Blanc on his suit’s front pocket. He was a far-cry from the fumbling, fresh-faced lawyer she had gotten at her arrest hearing. 

Anthony smiled. “I am.” 

“I don’t have any money. And I certainly didn’t call you.” 

“You don’t need to worry about the money.” Anthony answered, giving her a kind smile he hoped was reassuring. 

Siena looked back at him suspiciously and he added. “I was sent by a…mutual friend. He was concerned about you.”

Siena let out a chuckle and her cuffs rattled against the table. Anthony could only stare at her in confusion. 

“Is something funny?” 

“Do you even know why I am here, Mr. Bridgerton?” She asked, a feral smile gracing her lips.

“Of course. Cocaine. Possession with the intent of selling. You were deemed a flight risk because of your Italian passport. I read your file, Miss Rosso. And I recommend you plead guilty, we could get you a suspended sentence or maybe community service. You do not want this to drag on and give the prosecution a chance to charge you with international trafficking. That could mean anything from six to twelve years in this place.”

Anthony thought he had finally scared her into taking the proceedings seriously when he saw her flinch at the number of years she could spend in prison. But when she talked again, it was still in that same mocking tone.

“And the idea of pleading guilty…was that yours or from our mutual friend?” 

Siena saw he was affronted at her words. 

“Look, I don’t know what went on between you and him. He said you two were…involved. Clearly, things are more complicated than that. You don’t need to tell me. But I am here to help you. You were caught with a large amount of cocaine in your car. There’s no getting around it. Our best bet is to plead guilty and get you a reduced sentence. You’re young, no priors. The judge will be lenient. I can see to that. Let me help you, Siena.” 

In his eagerness to make her see reason, he had used her first name instead of calling her “Miss Rosso” and Siena noticed she liked the way he said it, soft with a hint of desperation. It was very apt to the situation she now found herself in, she thought. 

And now…now she had to decide if she could trust him or not.

“You seem like a decent guy, Anthony.” She finally said, after a long pause.

“I try to be.” Anthony answered seriously and honestly.

“And a good lawyer?”

“I believe I am better than good.” He smiled at her. There might have been a hint of flirtation in his words, but he ignored it. 

Siena raised one of her eyebrows at him. “You're cocky too. I suppose that is to be expected.” She paused. “You're wrong, though.”  

“Excuse me?” 

“About why I am here. I…I found out something, something really bad.” She still remembers the horror she felt when she realized she wasn’t the only one he had been hurting. There was Rosie, the maid he paid off when her condition became clear; Amelia, the prostitute who had warned Siena off him in what she had thought was petty jealousy at the time; and the teenage red-haired girl from the gala Siena had stopped him from hurting further. And those were the only ones she knew about. “He was hurting girls, you see. I couldn’t let it keep happening. When I threatened to go to the police, he made sure I would be silenced.”

Anthony stared at her in disbelief. “Are you saying the drugs were planted? By who?”

“Who do you think? Who had access to the car at all times? Who had money to buy this large quantity of drugs? Who called the police? Who made sure I would be arrested alone? That I would be sent here for being a flight risk. Who now brought a big shot lawyer here to make sure I knew what my options were? What will happen to me if I don’t keep my mouth shut.” 

“Are you saying that…” 

“You don’t believe me.” Siena had tears in her years and she seemed to have lost all hope. He wanted to comfort her. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her, it was that he didn’t see it before. 

He remembered Daphne coming home from the gala in tears, with her dress torn to shreds. He remembered how she never wanted to be left alone with Berbrooke afterwards, finding any excuse to leave the room as soon as he appeared. Anthony remembered confronting her about it, telling her she was being rude to one of his most important clients. He remembered the hurtful expression in her face then.

What an idiot he had been, putting a client before his own family. He would set things right now.

“I believe you.” 

“What?” 

“Siena, I believe you.” Anthony had a determined expression in his face and, for the first time since she had been arrested, Siena finally had some hope. He reached across the table and took her cuffed hands into his. “We’re fighting back. He doesn’t get to win.”

“He is more powerful than you think.” She found herself saying. Anthony had given her hope and, in turn, she felt compelled to give him an out. This wouldn’t be easier and she didn’t want him to regret his choice. “He has a lot of friends. He could ruin you too.” 

Anthony knew that. He knew he had pretty much said goodbye to his job at Featherington Law by siding with Siena. No more tax law and partner at thirty-five. And that was only one of the many ways Berbrooke could hurt him and his family. It didn’t matter, though. It was all worth it to know he was finally doing something right.

“I don’t care.” He said firmly. The whole time his hands still held hers, taking comfort and strength from her touch. “I can’t let him keep doing this. And I won’t let him ruin your life.” 

send me a ship + a number from this list and i'll write a short fic

[imagining-supernatural]

The Thanksgiving Party

Part 22 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary:  It’s Thanksgiving day and you spend it with Sebastian and his friends

Word Count: 1,927

The door closed with a soft click and you made your way through the unfamiliar room to ungracefully collapse on the bed. Three hours into the Thanksgiving celebration and you were ready for a nap.

Surprisingly enough, you hadn’t wanted to leave the group. If it hadn’t been for your body warning you to take a break, you would have still been socializing with Seb and all of his friends. Large groups were never your thing. The nine other people in the apartment would normally be enough to spin your mental wheel of excuses to leave early.

I’m sorry. I have to go. My (spin wheel) chipmunk just (spin another wheel) gave birth and I obviously have to go help.

But your mental wheel was becoming dusty with disuse.

It was strange.

You settled on the bed with some pillows to prop you up into a lounging position and pulled out your phone to call Jasmin. She picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hey Y/N! Great timing. You just saved me from having to change Zander’s diaper.”

The cry of her nephew came through her phone and you smiled. “You’re welcome. How’s he doing? And the rest of your family?”

“They’re great. Well, not my dad. I think he’s finally going to have to change a diaper. First diaper he’s changed since… well probably since I was out of diapers.”

“It’s his grandson. He should change a diaper.”

Jasmin laughed and the sound was immediately followed by the slam of a door. “Sheesh, that was a doozy. I don’t think I’ve seen that much poop since… I don’t think I’ve seen that much poop ever.”

“That’s what he gets for bragging that he’s never changed his grandchildren’s diapers.”

“Yeah. Anyway, enough about my family’s shit. How’s your day going?”

While you spoke, you pulled a blanket over yourself and burrowed further into the pillows. “Not too bad. Seb’s friends are great and I’ve actually been having fun.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Yeah. Brittney and Josselin actually set up a lunch date with me next week. So I might have some friends here besides Seb, Sean, and the nurses.”

“Not that Sebastian’s just your friend.”

Jasmin just couldn’t stop fishing. She kept wanting you to admit that you were in love with him or something. Which, honestly, might not be too far off base. You doubted you’d ever meet anyone more amazing than Sebastian. But with the intense situation you were in, how could you believe the feelings that came out of it?

Sebastian was, quite literally, your knight in shining armor. Or knight with a shining arm for most of the week.

So, no. You weren’t going to admit anything to Jasmin. You didn’t want the weight of that on your shoulders. You were simply enjoying whatever the hell you had going on with him at the moment.

“Mmm, no, he isn’t,” you mused, hoping she would get her hopes up. “He’s also my husband for insurance purposes.”

“And tax purposes,” she pointed out.

Holy shit. “I’m going to have to file my taxes as married, aren’t I? Fuck. That’s… fuckin’ weird.” There was a moment longer where you pondered on that before shaking your head. “Anyway. I just figured I’d give you a call while I had a moment alone. I should probably take a nap for an hour or so.”

“New treatment that bad?”

“Let’s just say I have a feeling that I won’t have the energy to even be bitchy for the next few weeks. But mid-January I’ll have the surgery and it’ll have been worth it.”

The two of you shot the shit for a while longer before hanging up. Within five minutes of closing your eyes, you were asleep.

“Hey, Y/N. Time to wake up.”

You shifted away from the hand on your shoulder with a groan. “No.”

The bed shifted and you felt someone lay down on top of the blanket behind you. Sebastian’s familiar arm curled around you as he fitted his body against yours. His lips were at your ear when he whispered, “Josselin and Mike are pulling out the pies.”

“I think I’d rather stay right here with you,” you murmured as you freed your arm from the confines of the blanket to grab his hand. Cuddling up with you was really the worst possible way he could have chosen to try and get you out of bed.

“But… pie. And ice cream.”

“I’m comfy.”

Despite your stubborn words, you forced yourself to start waking up more. Sebastian trailed his finger up and down your arm before heading toward your face, making you scrunch up your face and pull away from his finger. You felt his laughter at your back and couldn’t help your own smile.

By that time, you were awake enough to pull away and lay on your back, looking up at him.

“Hi,” he grinned down at you.

“Hi yourself.”

“How you feeling, sweetheart?”

“’m good. Still tired, but that’s not new.”

“Good. You really wanna stay in here?”

“Nah. Ice cream sounds good. And I like your friends, so…”

God, you could just stare into his blue eyes for ages. You never understood the phrase drowning in their eyes until Sebastian. And his soft, pink lips pulling up into a smile? That rough stubble on his cheeks… How in the world was he so fucking perfect?

His smile grew for a fraction of a second before he leaned down and kissed you. It lasted just a second before he pulled back and sat up. “They like you too. C’mon, let’s go.”

This time, you let him pull you up and guide you back to the kitchen. Several people had bowls with ice cream and pie already, so Sebastian headed right over to the counter to start filling his own. When he offered you a bowl, you held your hand out to refuse.

“I’m still full. I’ll probably just steal a few bites of whatever you’re having and call it good.”

“Why do you think I’ll share?”

“Why do you think I said steal?” You shot right back, tilting your head. “I’m not asking for your permission; I’m just giving you fair warning.”

Mike came up and threw his arm over your shoulder, motioning to you with his other hand. “C’mon, Sebastian. How can you say no to that face?”

Playing along, you gave Seb your best puppy dog eyes and pouty lip.

“Ganging up on me, I see how it is,” he muttered, unable to curb his own smile.

“Hey, you and Jaz gang up on me all the time. Turnabout’s fair play, babe.”

Once everyone had their desserts in hand, you all moved to the living room. You tried to claim a corner of the couch to hopefully fade away and just enjoy observing the witty banter and friendly insults that were being flung around the room, but Sebastian sat right next to you and pulled your legs over his lap. With one of his arms curled around you and the other balancing the bowl of ice cream and pie in your lap, you were right in the middle of every conversation Sebastian got pulled into.

After an hour or so, you felt yourself drifting off. A few people had left and the energy in the apartment simmered down to a more intimate setting. That, combined with Seb’s warm body against yours, lulled you into that space between consciousness and unconsciousness. You were floating just outside of dreamland.

“I like her,” you heard someone say quietly.

Sebastian shifted enough to get your head more comfortably on his shoulder and he hummed in agreement.

“She seems good for you,” the other person said again. Josselin, maybe?

“I like to think so,” Seb murmured.

“She gonna come to Thanksgiving next year, too?”

“You’re nosey, you know that Joss?”

“And you’re avoiding answering the question.” There was silence, then a heavy sigh from Josselin. “I’ve known you a long time, Sebastian. And I’ve never seen you with anyone that you literally cannot keep your hands off of. And not even in the I can’t wait to get you in bed kind of way.”

His hand absently rubbed up and down your thigh. “Yeah, well…”

“Well…? Well what?”

He took a deep breath. “The original plan was to get a divorce once she’s recovered.”

“Plans change. Your plan was to have a fun time in Vegas and get back to your life like normal. Now look at you. This isn’t what your life was like before. At all.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He pressed his lips to your brow and murmured, too quiet for Josselin to hear, “It’s better.”

“Hey, Y/N, look at this.” Sebastian plopped down on the armrest of your chair, careful of the wires and tubes attached to you. “So, you know how Joss was taking pictures like crazy yesterday?”

You nodded. The only time Josselin didn’t have her camera aimed at one of her guests was when she was eating, or when Mike stole the camera to take pictures of her. Never in your life had you met anyone who took so many pictures.

“She sent me some. Look at this one.” He handed his phone to you, keeping his eyes on your face for a reaction. No pressure for you, or anything, right?

A snort of laughter escaped you and you grinned. The screen was lit with a picture of a laughing Sebastian trying to feed you ice cream, while you leaned back as far as you could without falling off his lap. Ice cream was smudged on your cheek and your own lips were caught in laughter. You hadn’t known she’d gotten that moment on camera.

“That’s a good picture,” you said softly, zooming in on your faces. Both of you looked so carefree and happy… you doubted you’d see that side of yourself until well after the surgery.

Assuming you made it to surgery.

“I was wondering…” Sebastian said hesitantly. Immediately, you looked up at him, waiting for his question. Rarely was he unsure of anything. “How would you feel about me making an Instagram post with that picture?”

What could it hurt, right? The hype around you and Seb had died down since neither of you commented on the hype. So his post would bring you back to the spotlight for a day or two… you weren’t going to look online anyway.

“That’s fine. It might be nice to have a non-paparazzi photo of me online,” you joked.

“You sure?” he asked, but he was already half-smiling, ready to start making his post.

“Yeah. If there’s one thing I remember from Jasmin’s, uh, fanatical Supernatural phase, it’s that fans like to know that their favorite celebrities are doing well when something big happens. You’ve been quiet about… us. Being married. The cancer. I think a post showing you laughing would go a long way with your fans.”

He dropped a kiss on your brow before moving back to his chair across from you. He was tapping away on his phone for quite a while before he finally sat back. Your phone vibrated, alerting you that he’d tagged your neglected Instagram account.

Pulling out your phone, you saw the picture and immediately saved it to your phone. Beneath the picture was the caption:

According to Charles Dickens, “There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor” and I’m so thankful to have Y/N in my life to infect me with her laughter and humor. #Thanksgiving2019

Four fluffy parts in a row?? What has come over me?? But doesn’t that picture just seem so adorable??

CHAPTER 23: THE FIFTH CHECK-IN

[curiosi-tea-writes]

Loved Ones Visit (One Survivor pt. 5)

Pairing: Din Djarin / Cobb Vanth

Setting: Survivor AU / Modern AU

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

Summary: Cobb is given a chance to rewrite his history in the game. But playing a second season without Din proves to be much more difficult both physically and emotionally. A certain reward challenge proves to both hurt and help Cobb in its own way. 

Content Warning: Blood / Injured!Cobb

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

Cobb knew playing the game a second time after three years was going to be difficult. He knew having Din with him last time was a huge encouragement. But this time he was alone. Well, he had nineteen other players, but he felt incredibly alone.

He could imagine Din and Grogu sitting on the sofa every evening. He could almost hear Din’s laughter at Grogu’s attempts to list dinosaur facts he had learned from Cobb. But he knew he was alone. Worse than that, he was alone with almost everything reminding him of Din and their original season.

When Cobb got the offer to come back for an all-star season, he told the crew he had to discuss it with his family first. His family. It still surprised him to no end that that’s what they were.

Cobb moved across two states only a year after they had returned home from the game. A year of so many miles keeping them apart when they both knew all they wanted was to be together. Din’s apartment was bigger and his job was more secure than Cobb’s so it made more sense for Cobb to move. They lived comfortably, Cobb’s photography studio still wasn’t open, but he was making progress. He had never been happier than being there with Din and his son. Their son. It had taken them all a while, but Grogu was as much Cobb’s kid as he was Din’s. They were a happy little family.

Din, of course, had supported him. “Do you want to do it?” he had asked that evening as Cobb cooked.

Cobb had been weighing the options all day. He sighed heavily and nodded. “I think I do. I hate the idea of being away from here, from you two, but I would really like a second chance at this.”

“Then you need to do it.” There was no further debate on the matter.

That day that Cobb said goodbye to his boyfriend and their son was one of the worst of Cobb’s life. He couldn’t get the image of Grogu’s worried eyes out of his mind.

“What if you get hurt again?” Grogu had mumbled out as Cobb knelt to give him a hug.

“I’m gonna try real’ hard not to,” Cobb promised.

Grogu looked up at him with tears in his eyes. “Can’t you just promise that you won’t?”

Cobb took a shaky breath and looked up at Din for some sort of support, only to be met with the same look of pain and anxiety that Grogu had.

Din placed his hand on Grogu’s shoulder and took a shaky breath of his own. “He’ll be fine.”

‘Don’t tell him that,’ Cobb thought as he narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. ‘You don’t know that for sure.’

Most nights he laid out on the beach, staring up at the stars. It had taken him some time, but he finally loved the stars as much as Din did. Although, not for the same reason. Din loved the stars for the vastness and uncertainty of it all. The fact that there could be, and probably were, millions of life forms out there. He loved the stories behind the constellations and how they came about. Cobb loved all these things as well, but he also loved the comfort he now found in the stars. Before Din, they were just stars. Now, he knew, given what time of night it was and what time of year, where the constellations would be. His eyes could fall on his constellation of choice within seconds of laying down on the sand. They reminded him of late nights where Din explained to him everything he knew and Cobb would listen intently. He felt slightly less alone because he had the stars.

Although he didn’t have Din this time around, he wasn’t as alone as he often felt. Although they had been on different tribes despite all switch-ups and hadn’t gotten to meet up until the merge, Fennec had been brought back for the season as well. Cobb and Din had kept in touch with a few players from their season - Fennec, Boba, and Migs. He was happy knowing that he had a genuine friend on the island. Sometimes she’d sit with him on the beach, just to silently keep him company. Cobb always appreciated that. It didn’t last very long, however. After winning three individual immunities, she was seen as a threat and promptly voted out by everyone but Cobb and his one other ally.

And then Cobb was back to feeling completely alone. Only the stars were his true allies at that point.

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

“Come on in, guys!” Jeff called as the ten merged members walked single file onto the beach and took a spot on the yellow mat. Jeff had that look in his eye that told any fan of the show something big was about to happen. “Before I tell you the challenge, how about I tell you what you’re playing for.” The Survivors nodded. “I’m sure you’re all hungry and missing home. So for today’s challenge, you’ll get a little taste of it. Burgers, fries, and soda on a boat. Ice cream for dessert. You’ll eat, you can shower, have a change of clothes, spend the night, return to camp in the morning.” The Survivors groaned, knowing this was a reward everybody wanted desperately. “One more catch.”

“Of course,” Cobb sighed and the player sitting next to him laughed.

Jeff gave Cobb a slight glare before smiling. “Burgers and fries are a nice taste of home. But what would be better than a loved one to share it with?”

Everyone cheered and gasped as Jeff began going down the list of Survivors. With each person called, Cobb’s heart broke a little more. He knew he couldn’t get his hopes up too high, it was the middle of the school year. It was highly unlikely that Din was able to get time off to come to the island.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here-”

“Jeff,” Omera, the one person Cobb considered an ally, spoke up. Cobb turned around to begin to explain to her that it was alright, but she continued anyways, “You forgot Cobb.”

Jeff began to give him a look of pity, much like his did a couple of seasons ago with the letters before he smiled brightly. “I’m just messing, Cowboy. Not the first time this has happened, but we have a loved one coming to visit who was actually on the show before.”

Tears formed as Jeff called out Din’s name and Cobb was off the mat faster than any of his tribemates had been when he saw his boyfriend jog around the corner. Cobb nearly knocked him over as he ran into his embrace. Din’s arms were tight around Cobb’s waist as he lifted him up slightly off of the sand.

“I missed you so much,” Cobb whispered in Din’s ear.

“I missed you too,” he whispered back, his voice muffled by Cobb’s shoulder, feeling his warm skin against his face. They broke apart and shared a soft and quick kiss, fearing that if they let it go any longer, they wouldn’t be able to stop.

“How’s Grogu?” Cobb asked quickly, so much of his focus on Din that he hardly realized his tears still streamed steadily down his face.

Din chuckled, his smile bright. He loved how much Cobb adored and worried for the boy. “He’s fine, we’re both fine.”

“Now, Din,” Jeff spoke, bringing their attention to him, “you know what it’s like to be out here, you’ve played this game. It’s incredibly taxing- I mean, you know. Cobb got sick last time he was out here. What is that like knowing he’s out here again?”

Din let out a half laugh, turning to face him. “Honestly, Jeff,” he sighed out, pulling Cobb tighter to him, “it terrifies me. I think he’s absolutely insane to be out here a second time. I’ve been going crazy sitting at home not knowing anything. But I would also never discourage him from something he really wanted to do.”

Cobb lowered his face to Din’s shoulder, his heart aching from the love and support he knew he had in Din.

Jeff smiled brightly and gave a nod. “I know I normally only ask one question. But, Din, you didn’t see Cobb’s face before you came out here.” His words were cut off by Cobb groaning half-heartedly into Din’s shirt. Jeff laughed and continued, “Cobb, you didn’t even have a letter last time you played. Did you not expect him to come?”

“I had hoped, but I didn’t assume,” Cobb answered honestly, lifting his head. “There was no guarantee Din would be able to get time off. I knew if he could, he would have come, but-”

“I actually called in a family emergency,” Din muttered. Cobb snapped his attention to Din, his jaw dropping. He didn’t know when he had stopped crying and had begun laughing.

Jeff laughed hard. “You really did?”

“There was no way I was missing this visit, Jeff,” Din stated seriously.

New tears formed in Cobb’s eyes. He pulled Din close again and reveled in the feeling of Din’s hands rubbing his back.

Jeff cleared his throat and laughed. “Alright, Cowboy, head back over-”

“Actually, Jeff,” Din interrupted. He laughed as Jeff gave him a look that seemed to only be saved for when all-stars decided to sass him. “Sorry,” he said hurriedly, “it’s just that I don’t know if we’re going to win this and it may be my only time to do it. So if it’s alright, I have something I’d like to say to Cobb.”

Jeff nodded and waved his hand for Din to continue.

Turning back to Cobb, Din laughed lightly at his confused expression. “Cobb,” he spoke softly. “You can’t predict anything out here, it’s not possible. I didn’t come into this game three years ago thinking I’d come out of it with someone as amazing as you in my life. Our story started on an island much like this, on Survivor. I felt it was only right for it to continue on Survivor. So,” Din reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red box. He kept his eyes on Cobb’s as he slowly sank down to kneel in the hot sand. He opened the box to reveal a ring; half wooden, half clear resin with a small cut of a woven weed stem inside it, one that Cobb recognised all too well. “Cobb Vanth, will you marry me?”

Cobb fell to his knees, wincing slightly at the pain, pulling Din into a crushing kiss. At this point, he didn’t care if it was going to hurt to stop. He pulled back, brushing their noses against each other. “Yes,” he whispered only loud enough for Din to hear, tears forming in his eyes. “Yes, of course I will.” He placed another small kiss on Din’s lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Din spoke against Cobb’s lips.

Jeff cleared his throat, bringing both men back to the reality of the game. “So, let’s get this clear,” Jeff laughed out. “You said ‘yes’ right?”

Cobb laughed pressing his cheek against Din’s head, enjoying the feeling of the softness of his hair ticking his ear. “Yes, I said ‘yes.’”

Din took the ring out of the box and reached behind him to pull Cobb’s arm off of his shoulder. He smiled brightly as he slid it onto Cobb’s finger, remembering when he watched the part of their season where Cobb slid the woven ring into the same place.

“Alright you two,” Jeff said. “Sorry to break this up, but we have a challenge to get to.”

They exchanged one last kiss before parting and they each moved away to take their places. The father of one of Cobb’s tribemates shook Din’s hand with a smile as he joined the loved ones. Cobb’s tribe patted him on the back, Omera taking Cobb’s hand to get a better look at the ring.

“Aright,” Jeff called, clapping his hands together. “Unless anyone has any other pressing questions to ask.” Everyone laughed. “Let’s get to the challenge, then.” All the players stood up a little straighter. “Today, the challenge will involve both you and your loved one. We’re going to see how good you can communicate. You will be blindfolded and your loved one is going to guide you through a maze, over and under obstacles. You’ll have to race to collect five necklaces with the help of your loved one. First person to have all the necklaces collected and be back on your mat with your loved one wins reward. Sounds simple but if you fail to communicate, it will prove extremely difficult. Let’s get started.”

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

Cobb felt on top of the world. To him, he felt like he was back at home, recreating challenges for Grogu to take part in. Din had the louder voice between them, so that was also a plus in his books. He adored every direction Din called, utterly in love with hearing his voice. He had collected two of the necklaces and truly felt they would win the challenge.

Din tried to call out his name but it was too late. Cobb hadn’t ducked far enough down and managed to bang the side of his head on the bar he had meant to go under.

“Cowboy, are you okay?” Jeff called.

Cobb laughed and gave a thumbs up in Jeff’s general direction. He turned himself around a few times, attempting to regain his bearings when Din spotted the growing patch of dark red soaking into the yellow buff around Cobb’s eyes.

“Jeff, he’s not alright,” Din called quickly, already getting in the position to hop off of the tower he stood on as soon as Jeff gave him the go.

Jeff snapped his gaze to Cobb. “Everybody stop!” He called. “Stay where you are. Din, come down here. Medical!”

Cobb reached up and touched his temple. He couldn’t see still but he could feel the warmth and the wetness on his fingers and knew he must have hit his head much harder than he had thought. Din met Cobb down in the maze and guided Cobb to take a seat on the ground.

The medic rushed to them and lowered Cobb’s blindfold just enough to see the gash.

“What’s happening?” Cobb asked quickly. He felt fine, maybe a little sting. If it weren’t for the warmth against his face, he wouldn’t have even known he was really injured. He leaned into Din’s touch as he sat behind him, lightly rubbing his back.

The medic spoke up, “Just a bit of a gash, Cobb. You hit your head pretty hard back there. You’re fine.”

Cobb sat as still as he could, trying not to wince too harshly at the pain when his temple was touched with something cold. He still couldn’t see but he was grateful that Din was there. This would have been much scarier if he was alone with strangers.

“Can you tell us, mostly Cobb because he still can’t even see,” Jeff said softly, “what the diagnosis is? Is he okay to continue the challenge or is he done?”

The tone in his voice reminded Cobb just a little too much of when Jeff had to explain to him that he was being pulled from the game so close to the end. The wave of anxiety that washed over him made his ears ring and a tear was running down his face before he even had a chance to fight it. He reached blindly for Din’s hand, only realizing once he had it how badly his hands were shaking, Din’s tight grip attempting to steady him. “I don’t want to be evaced again,” he whispered, his voice trembling. He felt Din’s arm wrap tightly around him and he held his hand a little tighter, the one thing grounding him in the moment.

“You’re not getting evaced,” the medic explained. “It’s a pretty nasty gash, not deep, just long.” The medic traced lightly above the wound to let Cobb know exactly where it was. “It doesn’t need stitches. The blood made it seem a lot worse than it is but now that it’s mostly clean, I can say that so long as it’s kept clean and bandaged up, the worst case is you’ll have a pretty wicked scar on your temple to show off.”

Everyone gave a sigh of relief, even the players who had stopped in their tracks near them. Cobb was thankful that people understood how badly he didn’t want to leave the game again.

“So, in that case,” Jeff said, his voice a little lighter now that the weight of that question had been answered. “What about the challenge?”

The medic sighed and paused for a moment. “Well, I suppose that’s up to Cobb. I don’t see any reason why he can’t continue. I can easily patch this up and he can go about the challenge, I’d just want to patch it up better once he’s done. But Cobb, that’s unless you’re in pain or feeling lightheaded, it’s entirely up to you.”

“I’m finishing the challenge,” Cobb stated quickly. He wasn’t going to let something like this keep him from seeing Din.

“If you start to feel at all lightheaded, you let us know,” Jeff said sternly. “Really, Cowboy, we’ll stop the challenge if you do, it’s not a problem. I’d rather stop then have you push yourself too hard.” Cobb nodded. “Okay. Din, go back up to the stand. Cowboy, medic will patch you up. Let’s get back to it.”

Din squeezed his hand one last time, placing a soft kiss to Cobb’s hair before standing and making his way back to the stand. He was determined now more than ever to win this challenge.

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

“Cobb, wins reward!” Jeff called.

Cobb pulled the blood soaked buff and blind fold off from over his eyes and tossed them on the ground. He let his eyes adjust to the light as Din wrapped his arms around him tightly, kissing his cheek. As Cobb’s vision came back into focus, the first thing he saw was Din’s eyes as he smiled at him and for a moment, he was no longer in the game. For a moment it was just them in the entire universe. Cobb wondered if this is how it would feel on their wedding day. He was almost certain it would be.

The two men made their way next to Jeff as he recounted what they won. Cobb was looking forward to a night not only away from camp but with Din. He took Din’s hand and held it tightly, almost attempting to convince himself that he was real and there.

“Cowboy, I want medical to take another look at that gash and then you two can head on over to the boat.” Jeff clapped his hands together and smiled. “As for the rest of you, say bye to your loved ones and head back to camp.”

Cobb watched sadly as everyone said their goodbyes. He wished he had been given the option of taking someone. He would have taken Omera, he had already known that. But he wasn’t going to complain that it was only him and Din. He needed to just be with him.

The medics finished cleaning his injury and gave him instructions of how to handle it after he showered on the boat. Din gave them his promise that he would help with it which seemed to make them happy. With a final question about how Cobb was feeling, the newly engaged couple were sent off on a motorboat to be taken to the ship they were staying on.

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

Cobb wiped the mirror of steam in the bathroom after his shower. He turned his head a little to get a better look at his wound. It was already on its way to healing but the pain of it had finally set in. He had been as careful as he could to not disturb it while washing his hair, even having Din lend a hand when he realized it was much harder to shampoo and rinse around a cut than he had thought. Now looking at it in the mirror without the dirt from his hair making it darker, he could see that it wasn’t deep, just a long cut running from just above his ear to his temple.

He left the bathroom after treating and wrapping his wound and smiled at the sight of Din stretched out on the bed reading a book. Cobb let his body fall a little to the side, resting his shoulder against the door frame. He had missed just observing him so much.

Din looked up from the book and smiled brightly. “How are you feeling?”

Cobb laughed  little. “My head hurts but I’m excited to have a pretty awesome scar.”

“You are the only person in the world who would be excited to have a scar,” Din laughed out with a soft scoff.

Cobb took the few steps to the bed and sat next to Din’s legs. “Imagine how cool it’ll be when someone asks where I got the scar from and I get to tell them I got it on Survivor!” He sounded far too excited even to his own ears but he really didn’t care. He was incredibly happy. Happy that he wasn’t pulled from the game. Happy that he was with Din. Despite the anxiety caused from the injury, he could easily state that it was one of his favorite days to date.

Din sat up and took Cobb’s hand, lightly pulling him to lay down beside him. They settled down with Cobb’s head resting on Din’s chest, just like they would back home. Din ran his fingers softly through Cobb’s hair, careful not to touch the injury by mistake. “How’s the game been so far?”

Cobb knew it was an innocent question. It was a question that made sense to ask, especially given that Din knew the game personally. But Cobb wished he hadn’t asked. He tilted his face into Din’s shirt, trying to memorize the scent he already knew so well. He couldn’t answer. He knew the answer would be negative. He didn’t want Din to worry about him more than he knew he already was. He was too exhausted physically and mentally to stop his tears from falling. He held them back for so long at camp - through every fight with a tribemate, every frustrating day they didn't catch any fish, every injury. But now he was with Din and he knew he didn’t have to hold them back.

As soon as Din heard a sniffle and the coolness of his shirt against his chest, his heart shattered. He pulled Cobb up so they could lay next to each other. He wiped a few stray tears away from Cobb’s face with his thumbs. “What’s wrong?” Din’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“I just-” Cobb’s voice broke. “Last game went so well and this one is just-” He closed his eyes, causing more tears to fall. He took a shaky breath. “It’s been rough,” he finally got out. “Everything out here reminds me of you and it drives me crazy. Fennec came back,” he chuckled lightly as Din perked up a little hearing their friend’s name, “so at least I had her after the merge but she got voted off three Tribals ago.” He leaned forward and rested their foreheads together. “I can’t wait to go home.”

Din pulled him closer, allowing Cobb to let his emotions out. He understood. Not even in the terms of knowing the game. He had spent most nights after Grogu fell asleep holding Cobb’s pillow. He tried to stay strong for Grogu, he was worried enough about Cobb without having to know Din was as well. So Din spent his days keeping them both busy to keep their minds off of it and at night he would let his own emotions out as quietly as he could, trying to take in the little bit of Cobb’s scent left on the pillow.

When Cobb had run out of tears to cry he took a shaky breath and pulled away just enough to wipe his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It’s just a game. I need to keep telling myself that, it’s just a game.”

Din shook his head quickly and placed a soft kiss to Cobb’s forehead. “I’m so proud of you.” When Cobb scoffed he placed his hand gently under Cobb’s chin to bring his face up towards his. “Seriously. Playing this game once is hard enough. Playing it a second time- I can’t even imagine. I am so incredibly proud of you.”

Cobb smiled brightly. He thought how strange it was to smile genuinely. He had missed it.

“Come on,” Din said with a nudge to Cobb’s arm. “Let’s go eat and get you some water. Don’t want you to get dehydrated.”

Cobb scoffed out a laugh as he got off the bed to follow Din out of the suite. “Yeah, don’t want to do that again.”

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

Dinner on the deck of the boat was perfect. They were able to watch the sunset over a nearby island and the way Din’s eyes lit up as the stars began to appear was priceless to Cobb. He was thankful that Din had played the game. He might be away from camp and unable to strategize with his alliance, but running ideas past Din made up for it. He was able to see situations from a different point of view, letting Cobb see better ways to go about them.

At dessert, they both fell silent. Cobb lowered his gaze and spun the ring around on his finger.

“Do you like it?” Din asked as he set his bowl of ice cream aside and rested his arms on the table. “I knew for a while I wanted to use the ring I made you but I didn’t know how to do it without you noticing it was gone. Then you decided to come back on the show and it gave me an opportunity I didn’t know if I’d get again.” He spoke fast, his hands fidgeting, suddenly nervous.

Cobb looked up and chuckled, loving when Din rambled. “I love it.” He reached across the table and took Din’s hand. He liked the way the ring pressed into his knuckle and Din interlocked their fingers, reminding him that it was there. ”I love you.”

“I love you too,” Din whispered, his voice threatening to break.

Cobb tilted his head a little, his eyes turning quickly from soft to worried. “What’s wrong, Darlin’?”

Din sighed heavily. He knew Cobb didn’t need him breaking down right now. He needed him to be strong. He needed to not feel guilty for leaving. “I miss you,” he decided on simply. He shook his head lightly and took his hands away from Cobb’s to bring them up to hold his face. He needed to be strong, Cobb needed him to be.

Standing from his seat, Cobb made his way around the table. He placed his hand lightly on Din’s arm, causing him to drop his hand from his face and bring his teary gaze up to Cobb. “Let’s go to bed,” Cobb whispered, tugging a little.

Neither spoke as they made their way to the bedroom. They moved around each other easily, as they would if they were back at home. It wasn’t until they were under the covers, their arms tightly around each other that the silence was finally broken.

“You really scared me today,” Din spoke, his voice barely audible.

“I was pretty scared today,” Cobb admitted. He pulled away just enough to look up at Din but the other man refused to meet his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault that I got hurt.” He knew where Din’s mind was, the same place it was three years ago. He knew Din had some overwhelming need to protect those he cared about and while Cobb appreciated his concern, he wished he didn’t have to endure the guilt anxiety he always faced when he was unable to do so.

Din sighed deeply, tears returning to his eyes, no longer trying to keep them away. He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. He just sighed again and closed his eyes.

“Darlin’,” Cobb said in what was a normal volume but in the quiet of the room sounded loud. It served its purpose in bringing Din’s gaze back to his, Cobb’s heart aching as he saw Din’s tears. He mirrored the action of wiping them as Din had done for him earlier. “It was not your fault.”

“I should have been paying more attention,” Din defended. “I should have warned you, I-”

Cobb crashed their lips together, silencing his mind more importantly than his words. Din hummed into the kiss and pulled Cobb closer. His hand out of habit found its way to Cobb’s hair, earning a hiss of pain as his fingers brushed over Cobb’s bandage, causing them to pull away. They took a moment to just stare at each other, the love evident in both their eyes. Both felt, for at least that moment, the weight of the day and the last few weeks lift off of them.

“Thank you,” Cobb sighed, nestling his head to Din’s chest.

Din pressed a kiss to Cobb’s hair. “For what?”

Cobb gave a soft laugh. “For coming out here.” He tightened his arms around Din. “I needed this.”

“Of course,” Din whispered. “I would miss it for anything, Starshine.”

Cobb smiled brightly, always adoring the rare times Din used that name for him. He always saved it for the softest and calmest moments between them.

They settled in for sleep but just laid in silence for a long time, neither really wanting to sleep. They just wanted to hold each other for as long as they could, not worrying about the game or the other players. They both thought about when Cobb had been evaced and they had found themselves in a no-so-different situation than the one they were in now. Just two people calming each other’s anxieties with a simple embrace.

Cobb eventually couldn’t tell if Din was asleep or not. His breathing was calm enough that he could have been, but Din very rarely fell asleep before him. Cobb always thought it was a habit from watching over Grogu, but he was never really certain.

“Darlin’?” he whispered as gently as he could. If Din was asleep, there was no chance it would disturb him.

“Yes, Starshine?”

He sighed happily and lifted his head a little. “What do you think about a beach wedding?”

Din hummed. “Seems appropriate. Is Grogu going to be our ring bearer?”

“I think he’d be pretty upset if he wasn’t,” Cobb laughed.

“Alright,” Din whispered with a nod. “How’s purple for our main color?”

“Purple?” Cobb asked. When Din nodded he shifted a little to look up at him better. “Why purple?”

Din smiled brightly, his eyes so full of love it made Cobb’s heart skip. “It was our merging color. We finally got to be together at the merge.”

Cobb closed the short distance and pressed their lips together in a soft kiss. He pulled away quickly, laughing as Din leaned in to follow his lips. “Purple sounds amazing, Darlin’.” He laid back down and held Din tightly. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

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

The morning went by far too quickly for either of their liking. After a quick cup of coffee they were put on a motor boat and on their way back to camp. Din held Cobb’s hand the entire morning, not wanting to let any space pass between them, fearing they might not get the chance to reconnect.

As the camp came into sight, Cobb could see Omera waving at them from the beach. Cobb smiled and waved back, the ring catching his eye as he lifted his hand. He spun it with his thumb as he brought his hand back down and smiled brightly. At least after Din left he would still have this reminder of him. It felt the same as when Din left him the original stem ring last time.

Din walked him up to the shore and gave him a deep but short kiss. “You stop getting hurt,” he mumbled against his lips.

Cobb let out a soft laugh. “I’ll try my best. This game likes seeing me get hurt.” He wrapped his arms tightly around Din. “Tell Grogu I love him so much. I miss him.”

“He misses you too,” Din admitted. He had tried not to tell Cobb how worried the boy was for him. “We’ll both be there at the airport when you come home, okay?”

Cobb nodded and took a deep breath. “Just a little bit longer.” He smiled despite his heart breaking at the idea of having to let Din go. “And then we can start properly planning our wedding.”

With one final kiss they finally let go. Din waved once he was back on the motor boat, and then he was disappearing into the distance.

Cobb took a deep shaky breath and nodded. He turned on his heel and smiled as best he could at Omera. “So,” he spoke as steadily as he could, “what’d I miss?”

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

Nineteen days later, Cobb got off the plane, a bounce in his step that he had been missing last time he left the game. This time he wasn’t heading back to an empty apartment. This time he was headed home to family.

“Dad!”

Cobb looked down to see a blur of Grogu’s green hat as he ran to him, throwing his arms around Cobb’s legs. His eyes flicked up to Din quickly who was smiling brightly. Cobb felt the happiest of tears fill his eyes. While Cobb had long considered the boy to be his son, it was the first time Grogu had ever called him “Dad.” Cobb knelt down and pulled the boy into a tight hug, not ever wanting to let him go.

“How was the game?” Grogu asked excitedly, seemingly not realizing the impact that his single word had on both his fathers.

“Honestly?” Cobb looked between the two people he loved most in the universe. “I think I won.”

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

Note: This fic was honestly very self-indulgent and nothing else. I really started this as a one-shot that I assumed nobody else would enjoy, I just wanted to put it out into the universe because I wanted to read it and knew nobody else would write it. So the fact that people have actually enjoyed this and let me have fun with it means the world to me.

I left things open so I have the opportunity to go back and make a collection out of it, maybe add some random one-shots about Cobb and Boba's alliance or Fennec and Din's. Maybe I'll even add some proper Migs/Boba stuff in there. I'm not sure yet.

Thank you all for going on this fun little journey with me! And if you're wondering, yes, Cobb did win.

[klaumiel]

You are all I’ve got, Austin.// Chapter 2: Mama Knows Best

I was sitting in my favourite armchair in my parent’s house, sipping tea and chilling like every other Saturday morning. She makes the best tea in the world, like a magic elixir for all my fears and problems. Checking my phone every few minutes, I looked at my mum sitting on the sofa focused on filing her long red nails. She is beautiful as always, so classy and sophisticated, with her beautiful long black and curly hair, big brown eyes. She looked like a proper lady in her brown pencil skirt and white shirt neatly pushed inside, long legs like a model, nobody can tell that she just turned fifty-two. She was glowing. And yet, there was this familiar sadness in her eyes, I’ve seen it so many times, this look when she stares in the distance lost in her thoughts, hurts me every time seeing her like this because I know exactly what it means.

Dad promised her that this will be his last deployment and he will retire so they can finally live their lives the way they wanted, but he said that last time as well and one before that. She knew that he always wanted to reach the Captain rank, and she let him follow his dreams. Even if that meant leaving us for months every year, missing Christmas, birthdays and challenging times. He got promoted four years ago and finally, after over thirty years in the army, he had his dream job. My mother never complained, she loves him too much, after all, he was her first love her ‘hero’ as he always calls him.

She was devoted to her work as a music teacher, that always helped her in worse times, we grew up with her beautiful songs and a voice of an angel, her powerful cante flamenco only proved how magical and emotional music can be.

It was tough for her to leave Sevilla, her family and friends, but she did it for love, for my Dad. My grandmother was against it, but she did it anyway. A nineteen years old music student with no language or money, completely alone only a handsome soldier that she fell in love with a few months before. She knew that she will have a beautiful life; she took a risk, and it paid off. Well, that’s what she uses to tell us, was it really what she always dreamt off? Being part-single single mother with two kids, praying every day for her husband to come back in one piece and not in the wooden box? I think she tried so hard to convince herself that in the end, she believed it.

She is the most caring and loving person I know, always two steps ahead of us catching us before we fall, still supporting even if what we are doing it’s just stupid and illogical.

We didn’t give her a hard time as kids, as twins, we naturally looked after one another without even thinking about it, if one was in trouble or going through a hard time the other one always knew. It always freaked me out how this is possible that being somewhere else I can still feel Shaun’s emotions and vice versa. We are the same in every aspect, like the same things, react the same way to everything.

‘Maya!’ She snapped me from my thoughts ‘I asked you if you want more tea and some cake? Lemon cheesecake your favourite.’ Did she just said lemon cheesecake !?

‘Oh my god, Mum! You don’t have to ask twice. You know that I would die for it’ She laughed and walked to the kitchen.

I looked at my phone again. Just a few silly messages from Gemma describing Greg’s best bed tricks. I swear she will eat this poor guy alive! After a few conversations with Greg, I convinced him to give her a chance, he finally understood that we can’t be together as the feeling wasn’t mutual.

They went on a date a few days after, and now they are inseparable, I felt a little guilty that I left this for so long I could’ve pushed them earlier to try.

I called Gemma while my mum was in the kitchen.

‘Hey, girl! What’s up?!’ She answered I could hear Greg in the background; I guess I just disturbed something. Did he just moan?!

‘Nothing much, I’m just chilling here with my mum and wanted to check how are you doing, but from your texts, and what I can hear I guessed you are nice and comfy whenever you are’ I laughed

‘Well, I’m with Greg … I had to pull him away from work, he spends way  too much time working on things that don’t matter, he needs to relax, reports and taxes can wait until Monday I am more important right now’ she giggled

‘You know he is a workaholic, but I can see you are doing a great job in changing that, I’m glad to hear it. ‘

‘And how is your prison bae? Did you decide if you are going to visit him? I thought that was your plan for today, to surprise him. Did you chicken out?’ I checked if my mum wasn’t coming back from the kitchen, and I lowered my voice.

‘I didn’t chicken out, I called yesterday, but I was late for booking. Plus I am not sure if surprising him is a good idea, maybe I should discuss this with him first ‘ I saw my mum coming back from the kitchen.

‘Is your call girl, you know him better, but you have to make up your mind. Six weeks of only texting and sending hot pics is a long time. You are long overdue for the next level. Just don’t get too invested if you are not sure if you want to make a move, plus is not like you two have much of a future… I think you should look elsewhere is pointless to waste your time on him at this point, he has no future ’ Not much of a future ?! Waste my time?! What the hell was that about?! I was just about to call her out, but I saw my mum in the living room pouring tea and putting three plates on the table.

‘OK, Gemma, I have to go. Have fun, just make sure you can walk on Monday. Sara is only waiting for a chance to shame you in front of everyone…Bye’ I hang up before she could answer. I couldn’t believe that she said that. What got into her? She was very salty about the whole Austin situation from the start, and recently she avoided me. Just talking about herself and Greg. Even in the office, we didn’t chat as much as we use to. I was puzzled and hurt at the same time, that was so mean and entirely not like her.

I tossed my phone on the table with anger, and I was just about to dig into my cheesecake when I heard a doorbell.

‘I will get it Mum!’ I run to the door, I knew it was Shaun I could feel it, smiling from ear to ear, his black curls wet from the rain falling in his green eyes.

I am always so happy to see him, my little brother. Well, three minutes difference, but still, he is younger than me, and he hates it.

‘Hello, sis! I think I need a towel is absolutely lashing out there’ He said, shaking his wet hair while coming inside.

‘Here it is sweetheart, just in time, cake is on the table.’ My mum always two steps ahead, always prepared. She hugged him and dried his head with towel messing his hair up.

As soon as we sat down, I heard my phone ping. A familiar tune that made me smile each time I heard it. It was him! Of course, it was, I didn’t talk to anyone else there. I grabbed it as fast as I could, Shaun and Mum were busy chatting about some series on Netflix that I didn’t see, so I took the opportunity to focus on the conversation with Austin. He had a shitty day, so I decided to cheer him up a little. I’ve sent him a picture of me holding a tray with the pie that I’ve made the day before from the recipe he gave me. I was covered in flour from head to toe my hair was all messy. He joked about the mess I made in the kitchen. We talked about our favourite desserts, we had the same taste, so it wasn’t surprising to me when he said that lemon cheesecake is also his favourite. It was a short conversation, his time in the library was over. He kept his phone there, in one of the books.

I was happy to have at least this ten minutes with him. Made me feel better that I managed to cheer him up a little bit, he was a bit tense lately. I had a feeling he is hiding something, but I didn’t want to push him.

I’ve put my phone down, and I saw Shaun and Mum staring at me.

‘What?’ I asked nervously looking around myself to see what they are looking at. ‘Did I spill some tea? ‘

‘Who was that sweetie?’ My Mum smiled at me ‘Was it Albert?’ Why would she think it was Albert?

‘No, why you think it was Albert? I didn’t hear from him for weeks, plus we left it as they were. I don’t want to waste my time on him. I don’t even know when he is coming back, could be months. I made my decision, one soldier in the family is enough. I want my man to be next to me every day. I am not strong enough to go through the same as you’ her smile dropped instantly. Fuck! My big mouth again! ‘ Mum I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to..’

‘It’s ok love, I know what you mean, and I fully understand it’s not an easy life, and if you don’t feel like he is worth that kind of commitment you shouldn’t waste your time and wait for him. I stuck with your father because he was the one, still is but if you don’t feel like Albert is that’s only fair’ she paused for a second, and her smile came back ‘ So if not Albert who was it then? You were smiling and giggling the whole time. I didn’t see you like this for a long time.’

She was right, I didn’t feel like this for a long time, this whole Luke situation messed me up pretty badly.

‘It’s nothing, is just a guy from Lovelink that I am chatting with. Really, not a big deal’ She didn’t believe a word I said. Shaun shoot me an angry glance. Mum always knows when we are lying.

‘You are not getting away with this, not this time, you just blew your cover by giggling like mad! He knew about Austin, I told him everything, and I felt like it is time to share it with mum. At this stage, I was too deep into this, and she already knew that I am hiding something. We never had any secrets in the family, we made a promise that we need to share everything so we can help each other when we needed, and I didn’t want to break it.

I looked at my phone again and saw the last message from Austin.

“Bye messy pie ’’

I smiled. He is so fucking sweet, sometimes. Took a deep breath.

‘OK, I will tell you but please don’t freak out.’

She poured more tea to the mugs sat comfortably on the sofa, put her hands on her knees. She was ready, that’s what she thought, but she wasn’t.

‘About six weeks ago I matched with this guy, Austin Russo. I wasn’t sure at first, but I swiped because he intrigued me, I saw something interesting in him. See for yourself.’ I showed her his profile picture and the one he sent me a few weeks ago with his pop. I kept shirtless to myself.

‘Wow, handsome man. So far, so good.’ God, she is so not ready for that. Shaun smiled, he knew I was shitting myself, I didn’t want her to know.

‘Well, we really clicked, not right away. In the beginning, I thought that he is a bit of a prick, rude and arrogant, but he started to open up and … we were texting every day, getting to know each other. He is a bit rough around the edges but is getting better. I think I am bringing his soft side now. You will like that… he is a poet.’ I had to start with the right things, prepare her. She loves poetry.

‘Oh, that’s so romantic. You seem to like him.’

‘Yes, I do. I feel like we have a connection, even tho we’ve been only texting, we didn’t really meet in real life yet, but we have something special.’

‘ He didn’t take you for a date in six weeks? Why? That’s a red flag sweetheart ‘ Fuck! Here we go. Just say it! I looked at Shaun, begging for help, but he nodded reassuring me. I took a deep breath and looked at my Mum. My mouth was dry as sand, I took a big sip of tea, brushed my hair nervously She is going to flip.

‘Mum, we couldn’t go on a date because he is in prison’ My heart pounded in my chest, I  desperately searched for her reaction. She had a poker face, but I knew she was shocked, she didn’t say anything because she knew this is not all ‘He was falsely accused of murder seven years ago.. he is innocent, but there is not enough evidence to prove it.’

She didn’t say anything, just looked away then down. I felt my eyes filling with tears. She is disappointed, she won’t even look at me. I caught Shaun looking at her. Finally, she said quietly slowly bringing her eyes back to me.

‘Well, this was unexpected.. how long is his sentence?’ Mum was very serious, but I could see that she cared, she was worried. There was approval in her piercing brown eyes. That approval that I needed right now.

‘He is on the death row.’ I nearly whispered, looking at the floor, tears flowing. I felt horrible. On one side, my mum, always wanting me to find a good Nobel man and have a perfect family, one that we never had. And on the other side Austin, the not ideal partner for her perfect daughter, another criminal

‘Oh my god, sweetie.’ She sat on the floor next to me, took my hands in hers and looked at me ‘Are you hundred per cent sure he is innocent?’

‘ Yes, I believe him.’ I whispered

I told her everything. How Austin and his pop ran a chop shop together, how his half-brother Bennie started using heavy drugs and his father kicked him out, so he decided to take them down with his new gang; they got into a fight and Bennie tried to shoot Austin but his pop pushed him away and took the bullet. Bennie and his thugs knocked Austin down and left him next to his dead father with the gun in his hand. Unfortunately, this was enough evidence to prove him guilty and sentenced to death.

I didn’t even notice that I was crying like a baby the whole time. I must’ve looked pathetic.

‘ I know that you think I must be stupid, he could be lying and just playing me, but I really have feelings for him. I can’t even explain it. I believe him, he would never kill his father, he loved him, I could feel it from the way he spoke about him.’ I took a deep breath trying to calm myself ‘I saw his rough side when we started talking, but now he is a different person…  he opened up ‘ Suddenly all the thoughts of losing him went through my head

‘Mum... I have to help him … I don’t know how but I can’t let him die.’ I felt her arms wrapped around my shoulders when she squeezed to sit next to me. She wiped my cheeks and lifted my chin.

‘ Sweetheart, I would never think you are stupid. Love is never stupid, I would’ve been a complete hypocrite to think this way. You are my daughter, my whole world, and I love you with my whole heart. You are exactly like me when you fall for someone you fall deep. I can see that you care about this boy. And your golden heart won’t let you just leave him like that.  Maya, if you believe he's innocent, I trust you’ She pointed at my phone ’ I don’t see a murderer in him, there is good in his eyes. And what’s most important you see a good person in him, you gave him a chance because you knew is right.’ Her expression softened ‘ We better start thinking about how we can help him.’

Shaun sat on the sofa, resting his head on his hands, suddenly he got up.

‘Sis, we will figure something out. There must be a way to get him out of this, talk to him see what you can learn. I’m sure he knows what to do but is holding back, is too proud to ask you for help. He is too young and definitely not ready to die…Listen… Dad will be back in a few weeks maybe he can pull some strings, in the meantime try to convince Austin to let you help him.’

I wasn’t expecting my mum to understand, but she saw something more than just a stupid girl falling in love with the guy who most likely will never see the outside world before saying goodbye to it. She felt my determination and will to get him out of this shit, and as always she was two steps ahead.

‘ What was the other evidence apart from the gun?’ She asked while walking back to the sofa

‘ Partial DNA on him, which by the way is the same as Bennie’s, if we could have his DNA that would be a full match. I’m sure that would be enough to prove him innocent. I spoke with him about this, but nobody knows where Bennie is now, and police aren’t even looking for him. Plus is not easy to convince Austin to let me help him, he is stubborn, he lived with the idea that there is no chance for him to get out for seven years and now when there is a small chance he is scared, he won’t admit it, but he is scared someone will get hurt because of him again.’

‘You have to convince him’ Shaun said ‘ I am sure he knows something, a guy like Bennie can’t just disappear without the trace unless they are dead. Then we are screwed… Talk to him and don’t do anything stupid alone, you have me’ He smiled and flicked my nose

Next day I spoke with Austin about the possibility of finding Bennie, of course, he didn’t want me to get involved. How someone can be so stubborn!?

But that day, I decided that I had enough of him pissing around. After he got stabbed in the library by few of Bennie’s thugs who tried to cut his tongue, to make sure he won’t speak before the execution.

This was the point in which I drew the line, it was too much. My man was in grave danger, and I suppose to sit with my arms crossed? No fucking way! But before he managed to get proper angry he told me that we will give it ago, he had information where Bennie was last seen, he sent me an address and asked me to wait until we make a plan. He clearly doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does.’

The moment Austin went offline, I put the address in my GPS  and drove there. I looked around the place that seemed to be a chop shop. Austin texted me when I was hidden behind the fence. He was fuming, I didn’t listen to him after all, he specifically told me to wait. Sorry not sorry, darling.

We confirmed that the bike outside the shop was Bennie’s, I went to look around searching for anything useful, but then my luck reached its end together with my common sense.

Bennie found me. I had only one chance to use this to my advantage, he was meters away from me. I only needed a bit of his hair, that's all.

I could stir it anyway I could, I had him right in front of me, but no. I did the only thing my stupid mind told me to.

I agreed to go on a date with a murderer. How wonderfully clever of me. Mama will be proud.

It was the stupidest idea ever, but it was the only chance I had to free Austin, or at least save his life.

Austin wasn’t happy with the idea, but he knew it is the only way. Only one shot, he’s the only door to freedom.

We planned everything, go in get the hair and get out. Simple as that. Nothing can go wrong, right? Right.

I called Shaun, I was stupid and desperate enough to go on a date a murderer but not dumb as to go there alone.

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Twelve - You’re a Tree

ATTENTION: REFERENCE TO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE -  I tried to keep it soft as much as I could, but some people may be triggered.

Despite Victor’s insistent protests, I didn’t go to the hospital, compromising with letting him drive me home. Victor followed me to my apartment, his hand steady on my back. He didn’t wait for me to invite him in, getting in the moment I opened the door and going straight to my kitchen.

“You have an upset stomach. You should have some tea and a light meal to comfort it.” He stated, rummaging my cabinets.

“I’m going to need something stronger than tea, I’m afraid.” I said, going for the cabinet where I kept my liquor. I took a bottle of tequila. “Bring me two glasses from the cabinet, please.”

“It’s not even noon”.” Victor scolded me. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Like they say, it’s five o’clock somewhere.” I bitterly joked.

Victor gave me a steely look and sighed to show his frustration. With a dictatorial attitude, he walked to me and tried to take the bottle from my hand. I quickly moved my arm behind my back, my eyes daring him to try again.

“Look, I said I’m fine already. I’m an adult and I can take care of myself, and I think I know better than you what I need, and I definitely do not need a babysitter. So either you sit and drink, or you leave. I’m fine with either of them.” I said, defiantly placing the tequila bottle on the table with a thump.

Reading his expression, I could swear he was going to leave, which was exactly what I intended. To my dismay, he sat down and poured both of us a drink. He slumped on his chair as he took a sip of tequila.

“I'm worried about you.” He confessed softly.

“You don’t need to be, I’m fine.” I retorted.

“Right. Because pouring alcohol on an empty stomach shows me exactly how fine you are.”

“Why exactly do you care so much, Victor?” I knew he meant well, but I was in a bad mood, and he was getting on my nerves. I took another sip of my drink, feeling the burn in my chest numb me just a little.

“I told you I called your previous employees to inquiry about your performance, do you remember?” He started softly.

“Right, the “golden child” speech. How could I forget?” I answered bitterly.

“I also asked Goldman to pull your criminal and medicals files.” He paused. “It’s a legal requirement for immigrant employees.”

I felt the floor moving under me. He knew about the abuse.

“I’m such an idiot…” I said, holding my head with my hands. “Of course you’d do a background check.” I couldn’t even look at him, I was mortified. “How much do you know?” My voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper.

“Just that you filed a domestic violence complaint and were hospitalized for about a month.” His voice was deep and low, almost like he was sorry for knowing.

“My case was all over the Portuguese media. Did you see that too?”

“A newspaper article saying you had dropped the charges.”

I sighed, trying to keep my tears at bay. I felt vulnerable, naked, exposed. Worse than that, the person I had feelings for knew how helpless I was, and that rose the worst feeling of them all: pity.

“Is that why you’ve been helping me? Because you feel sorry for me?”

“No.” Victor said, looking me in the eyes. “What happened to you doesn’t make me think any less of you.”

“Bullshit.” I said, not believing him one bit. “There’s a stigma. When something like this happens to you, people look at you differently. That’s why I left Portugal in the first place. They wonder, Victor, they wonder a lot. Their fairytale illusion shatters on the ground and they take offense. They feel they have the right to ask. How can a girl like you end up in such a situation? You could have any other guy! or, How come didn’t you look for help right away, if he was so bad to you?, or, my absolute favorite of all time, How come an educated girl like you, with such loving parents that raised you so well, ends up so helpless in the first place? And you know, I wouldn’t hold it against you if you thought I was an idiot. I think I’m an idiot.”

I filled my empty glass with more tequila, and swallowed most of it in one go.

“It’s not like he had it written on his forehead, you know. I wish he had some kind of sign saying I’m going to put you in a coma one of these days. That would’ve been helpful. Truth is, he was a gentleman. He was kind, and loving, and caring, and sweet. Damn, he was the love of my life. He was the man I thought I was going to love my whole life, no one after him, no one before him. He was my eternity. When he said, date me, I did it without thinking. When he said, move in with me, I jumped in without hesitation. I did all that he wanted, started working for his family, started building a life with him, lost in my own fairytale illusion, not really realizing that he was fencing me in. When he had me right where he wanted me, away from my family and friends, totally under his dominion, the violence started. First, it was because I came home late, and there would be an ugly argument. Then because he didn’t think my blouse was appropriate, another argument. The first time he slapped me was because I went to the supermarket and didn’t tell him. He thought I was cheating.”

I emptied my second glass and filled it again, filling Victor’s too. I drank in silence, not really caring to look at Victor, feeling ashamed, humiliated, infuriated.

“From that moment on, every single argument we had would pretty much end with me bleeding on the floor.” I paused and laughed bitterly, the whole scene playing inside my head. “Then he would come to take care of me, icepack and painkillers in his hand. He would care for my cuts and bruises, tears rolling down his face, apologizing over and over. He used whatever circumstances he was in to justify his actions: his job was taxing and his father was always breathing down his neck, his mom was smothering him and trying to interfere with every decision he made, my family didn’t like him and he felt unwanted in my life. He would say he couldn’t take it anymore. He would say he felt beneath me, that I made him feel like he wasn’t enough, so he was afraid I would leave him, and that was why he was so possessive.”

“Sick bastard.” Victor gritted through his teeth, shaking his head in anger. His grip on his glass was so strong I expected it to break.

“Do you want to hear something even sicker?” I said, looking Victor in the eyes. “I fell for it all. Believed every word. Forgave every punch. The piece of scum was treating me like his punching bag, breaking every little piece of self-esteem I had in me, and I loved him more than my own life. I actually felt guilty for not making things easier for him, for being unable to understand him like he deserved. I thought that, if I could change myself enough, I could change his behavior. Maybe if I could be a little more patient, he would see the light. To this day I can’t understand how I could be that stupid.”

“You thought your love was so strong that it could change it all.” Victor almost whispered, like he knew where I was coming from. “What made you leave?”

“I thought I was pregnant. I wasn’t, it was a false positive. But at the time I was convinced I was going to have a child, so I called my mom. She told me to just pack and run home, and I did. I couldn’t possibly have a child with him, in such an environment. But he came home before I got the chance to leave. Saw my bags on the floor and went insane. Next thing I know, I’m waking up from a coma two weeks later, my mom by my side, her eyes so swollen from crying she could barely open them.”

I felt a tear roll down my face. I took a deep breath, trying not to cry harder. That tear was the only one I would allow myself.

“He told me that I would never have a child, his or anybody else’s. He kept his promise. I had a massive uterine bleeding, and they had to perform a hysterectomy. I’m infertile.”

And there it was. My story, out in the world, for display. I was stupid enough to think I was overcoming it. I wasn't, not even by a long shot. It was still there, very painful and very real.

“Why did you drop the charges?” I heard Victor again.

“When my brother heard of what happened, he went insane. He found Daniel and gave him a massive beating. Of course, his parents went straight to the police, and my brother was facing charges that would put him in prison for at least two years.” I let out a ragged breath. “Josh had gotten engaged, I couldn’t let that happen to him. He was going to be punished for my mistake. I dropped the charges on Daniel on the condition they would drop the charges on Josh. I told the police I didn’t recognize who attacked me, but it wasn’t Daniel.”

“Your mistake? How could that be your mistake?” Victor’s anger was starting to show, his voice a little louder than usual. “The guy tortured you, beat you, almost killed you, and you willingly take the blame?!?”

“It is my mistake!” My throat tightened as I spoke. “I allowed that turd into my life, I welcomed him! And I was stupid enough to love him, and even more stupid to hope I could change him! I was an imbecile to believe I had a chance of happiness with him! I turned my back on my family, I hurt the ones that were actually trying to help me, the ones that actually loved me. I brought them nothing but pain, I almost put my own brother in jail, all because I was deluded with this romanticized dream that was never going to happen!”

And with that, the tears I was trying so hard to keep at bay came in full force. I held on to the table, trying to steady myself as I sobbed hard, looking down, unable to face the world. Strong hands held my shoulders.

“You don’t need to do this.” I felt like begging him to stop. “You don’t need to comfort me, or be here for me, or feel sorry for me. This is my story, this is who I am. And no matter how much it hurts, I have to somehow make peace with that.”

Victor turned my body to face him.

“Just so you know, I don’t pity you.” He said, matter-of-factly. “I admire you. I did before, and now I do even more. You went through so much, been hurt in so many ways, and I can still hear your laughter in the coffee room. You moved to a different country, started working in a very demanding company, faced every setback, and when a guy pointed a gun at your head, you broke his nose. That’s not weakness, Andrea.”

“No, it’s stupidity.” I half-joked, trying to stop all my crying. Victor took my face in his hands, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“It’s strength. You are not a puny flower that someone stomped on, you are not flat on the ground, trying to grow back again. You’re a tree.”

“Victor, stop it.” I said, looking down. Victor lifted my face so I could meet his eyes again.

“You are a tree.” Victor spoke almost in a whisper. “Autumn may take your leaves away and leave you barren, Winter snow may freeze your branches and your roots, but you’ll still be a tree, standing tall through it all. And when Spring comes, you will have leaves and beautiful flowers again, and someone will enjoy your shade, and admire how bravely you stood up to the elements."

He took me in his arms again, steady and strong. He wasn’t mine, but his embrace made me feel like he was, his warmth available and consistent, letting me wash my sorrows away. My solace. Maybe Victor’s picture should be in that restaurant too.

And I wasn’t crying from sadness anymore. I had never heard anything so beautiful. The ogre was a prince, trapped in a spell I didn’t quite know how to break yet, but once in a blue moon I could see the beauty within. The beautiful light inside him, that had me drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

[realm-sweet-realm]

Secrets and Lies, chapter 3

This is a Death and Taxes fic. It takes the typical, predator-prey dynamic that one often sees in one-offs and tells a story with it. It’s going to be the edgiest thing I’ve written thusfar, so buckle up.

tw for internalized homophobia, regular homophobia, and discussion of rape and abuse

---

Blood was on his bed sheets and Joey was asleep on them. Grant let him sleep- he didn’t feel like dealing with him yet. Looking in the mirror, he was met with purple bruises on his face and neck from the night before. Thankfully not much swelling. After Joey had woken up and gotten out of his house, Grant headed into town to buy some liquid foundation to cover up the marks Joey had left on him. Buying makeup was mildly embarrassing, but he was not wearing his shame to work on Monday.

Was this life now? Letting Joey do what he wanted with him and licking his wounds in secret? It seemed that way. Over the coming two weeks, over which Joey came to him three times- twice in Grant’s own office- Grant learned that trying to lessen the amount of anger Joey released onto him was pointless. Joey didn’t want an amateur therapist or a sub, nor was this a method of punishment or control- Joey just wanted a fuckable punching bag. And especially after Joey assaulted him in his office, work began to feel like a very unsafe place to be.

In those two weeks, Grant also counted up the price of leaving the studio and Joey behind. He’d been spending more lunch hours than usual with Norman- spending time with the man could always lift Grant’s spirits a little, and Norman was so intimidating that he felt (irrationally, of course) like Joey couldn’t lay a finger on him as long as they were close. Norman could tell that something was up, but he didn’t say anything, thankfully.

Grant didn’t want to look at Norman and see someone he’d have to leave behind if he chose to get out of the studio and have the pictures come out. He couldn’t bring himself to broach the subject of how Norman viewed homosexuality. There were a few other people Grant cared about at work- a few from his department that he knew casually, and Shawn and Lacie who he’d gone out drinking with a couple times. Aside from Norman, no one worth staying for, though.

Even before the affair with Joey had happened, most of the reason Grant was still a part of the studio was because he wasn’t sure he could land another job in this economy. But, the economy was recovering. It would be safest to try and land something else before fleeing the studio, so just in case Joey decided to do sabotage him professionally- assuming Joey cared enough to, which he probably didn’t. It was hard not to get paranoid. He could quit right away if things escalated, but for now he’d spend at least a few weeks looking for a job.

There was still the matter of his next of kin. He didn’t remember who he’d put down as his next of kin- it was either his ex-wife or his mother. Neither were attractive options, but his parents he could deal with more easily than he could deal with Joey.

A knock on his office door jolted Grant from his train of thought. Oh God… Joey? Cautiously, as though caution could save him, Grant went over to the door and opened it slowly. He let out a sigh of relief when it turned out to be Toby, their overly friendly treasurer.

“You alright, there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Grant forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. What can I help you with?”

“Just here to drop off some ordering forms.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Grant had always noticed that, although Toby was downright bubbly with everyone else, he seemed very uncomfortable with Mr. Dew. And, well, he did fulfill certain stereotypes- the way he walked (Grant hoped that wasn’t what he looked like- good God was it effeminate!), his love of aesthetics... Maybe…

“Joey makes us budget for some strange things, doesn’t he Toby?” Grant asked. He knew how ominous he must have sounded despite his best efforts. But he would have done anything for someone to talk to about this. “Has he ever made you budget for something like this?”

Grant pulled a bottle of liquid foundation from his desk- the same liquid foundation that was currently smeared over the bruises that Joey had given him a few days ago before. Toby eyed the bottle.

“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying. Are you talking about… unprofessional relations?”

“…Yes.”

“Oh. Ouch. Sorry to hear about this. Yeah, Joey and I were hooking up for a while, but he never… compelled me to buy that. Look, he’ll probably forget you in a month. Okay? Hang in there.”

Grant didn’t know if he could or should explain that he was more than one of Joey’s hookups. He supposed it didn’t matter. “Could you help me with something?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“I need to access my file without Joey knowing. I have a meeting with him tomorrow at three pm- could you do me a favour and tell him there’s an issue he has to see to elsewhere? I just need a couple minutes alone in his office. Please. I’ll do anything.”

Toby looked concerned, and a bit overwhelmed. “Sure. Seems easy.”

“Thank you.”

The plan went as expected. Toby came in at 3:10, telling Joey that there was an issue in the music department that he had to see. When Joey arrived with him in the music department and there was no disaster, he said that they must have taken care of it. Joey gave him a harsh look, but that was all before they headed back to their respective offices.

Meanwhile, digging through Joey’s filing cabinet, Grant found what he was looking for. His next of kin was his mother. Good. Everything was back in place by the time Joey returned- as though it had never been touched at all.

Well, now he knew what the hardest part of all this would be. It was a few days before Grant could bring himself to do it.

Grant took a deep breath. In front of him was a prepared speech written on note-cards- he knew that that was the only way he would be able to go through with it. And if getting away from Joey meant his next of kin receiving that photo, he’d never have the courage to leave Joey otherwise. He dialed the familiar number on his phone.

“Hello?”

“Mom? I have something to confess. I’m bisexual.” Not that he was- but there was a chance she would take this better than if he’d admitted to being gay. “I never acted on it in my life until a about a month ago. I fell into an abusive relationship with my employer. He’s threatened that if I don’t do what he wants, he will fire me and release a photo that he took of me while I was in a sexually compromising position. I’m telling you because he threatened to send it to my next of kin, and I thought that this would be a better way for you to find out. I’m going to try to get away from him, and after that I want to turn my back on the lifestyle. Permanently. I promise.”

There was a long silence.

“You’re… you’re what?” her shocked voice made Grant pity her.

“Bisexual- half straight, half gay.”

“I need to talk with your father about this. That- and you being in a position like that is just… a lot. I’ll call you back in a while, okay? I love you.” She hung up.

Grant spent the next twenty minutes too stunned to do much of anything other than worry about what this would mean for his relationship with his family. His mother had always been emotionally fragile, and he hated hurting her like this. His father’s potential reaction scared him more, though. His father had grown up religious and was still in close contact with family members who were, and whose opinions he cared greatly about. And while his mother would never think for a second to disown him… well, his father loved him, too, but…

If only he hadn’t liked being helpless so much! There had been times- several times before the night that Joey had first raped him- where he could have told him, “no, I won’t sleep with you, I’m straight,” but he’d told himself that Joey wouldn’t take no for an answer, that the situation was temporary, that he was passive in it instead of actively choosing it every time. He’d chosen this.

The phone rang. “Hello?

“Hey,” it was her mother’s voice. It sounded a bit teary, but calm- probably a good sign. “So, we talked about it. Most important part first- do you have a plan to get out of this abusive situation you’re in?”

“Yes. I’ll be out within a month. Ironically, once you get that picture in the mail is when you’ll know I’m out.”

“Good. Secondly- your father and I talked about it, and we don’t think you’re half-gay- it’s more like you have the potential to be gay, and you rejected it. I mean, you could live like you’re normal the rest of your life and no one would know any different. So, it’s okay. Right? You just got misguided for a while.”

“Right. Soon, this will be a memory.”

“Thank you. I needed to hear that,” she said. With that they said their goodbyes and hung up.

Grant cried- probably from relief. Thank God his parents had accepted this- only because he’d massaged the truth, but nonetheless. That was a lie he’d have to keep up for the rest of his life- and maybe that was for the better. Joey was awfully close to the stereotype, wasn’t he? A sexual predator who targets men- men who considered themselves normal not too long ago- and brings them to the point of buying makeup, crying regularly, and accepting a woman’s place in bed. Lust wasn’t worth that, or hurting his parents, or being like Toby, who, nice as likable as he was, might as well have had “wipe your feet on me! Everyone else does!" Written across his forehead. No, that wasn’t the man he wanted to be- he needed to leave this world of predators and prey behind.

[markswoman]

left my heart (in your tip jar) | kdy

“gag. looks like he left a tip specifically for you. how unfair, he just puts it in the tip jar whenever i help him. you don’t even have half the charm I have—at least i can make conversation!” 

you hit jeno weakly on the kneecap from your position on the floor. “shut up I’m distraught.”

pairing | college student!doyoung x barista!reader | fluff | 3.7k |

an: a birthday present for athene that somehow made its way on here ;( title cred to @taexinjie​

“Jeno! Jeno, he’s back!” You sweep into the back room of the little cafe where you’re both working and lean dramatically on the counter, a look of desperation on your face. “I can’t go back out there.”

“What are you talking about? Who’s back?” Jeno asks, not even bothering to look up from the magazine he’s been flipping through.

You sighs. “That one customer. The customer. You know the one with the glasses who’s always so serious and nerdy looking, but in a cute way that screams ‘I’ll file your taxes but I’ll also lay in the grass and stargaze with you’.” A dreamy look has replaced the desperation and Jeno chuckles at the quick change in your demeanor.

“Oh, you mean Doyoung? Not exactly the vibe I get from him, but whatever you’re into.”

“You know his name? How do you know his name?” You ask. “Do you know him? Why didn’t you tell me that you know him? Oh my god I can’t believe-“

“I only know his name because I’ve been making his coffee for a week since you’re too chicken to do it yourself.” Jeno cuts in before you can give yourself an aneurysm. “Maybe you could get to know him too if you ever actually talked to him.”

Jeno has a point. You know you’re being a coward by hiding in the back every time the cute customer comes in, but the first time Doyoung came into the cafe, you made a complete fool of yourself. When you were confronted with a pair of very pretty eyes, you had stuttered your way through the order; you even managed to spill some of the coffee on yourself, forcing Jeno to come to the rescue. After that you ran for the hills whenever Doyoung stepped foot inside the shop.

“Speaking of the shop,” Jeno says with a look towards the door, “who’s managing the register?”

“Um…” You shift slightly on your feet, “I was kind of hoping you would?”

Jeno rolls his eyes and then pushes you towards the door, ignoring your weak protests. “It’s time to man up and go get yourself a man. Plus, we have a business to run. Taeil isn’t going to be happy you’re leaving his shop unattended.”

“Then why do you get to slack off?” You pout.

“Because I was doing it first.” He says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and with that Jeno gives you a final shove out the door.

You stumble behind the counter trying to catch yourself before Doyoung notices. No such luck; Doyoung, who is waiting patiently at the counter ready to order, chuckles at you. He’s dressed casually in a black jacket and jeans and you briefly wonder if he works around here or if he’s a student like yourself.

Pausing to throw a glare back at Jeno, who grins and gives you a thumbs up through the small window on the top of the door, you make your way over to the register.

“You want an Americano with cream, right?” You say without any preamble.

Doyoung looks momentarily taken aback but he smiles nonetheless.“Yeah, how’d you know?”

Shit. “Uhhh, J-Jeno told me.” You jab a finger towards the back room for emphasis. “My coworker.” You were definitely lying. Jeno had told you no such thing. You knew the order because you had been watching Doyoung order it all week. You may have been hiding, but you were still watching. Which is totally not as creepy as it sounds. You just preferred to observe the handsome customer from afar because there were less chances of you embarrassing yourself.

“Oh, is Jeno here?” Doyoung asks innocently, craning his neck to where you were pointing. You feel a momentary pang of jealousy flare up even though it’s your own fault that Doyoung knows Jeno instead of you.

“He’s actually really busy at the moment, so I’m here instead!” You say a little too quickly and you want to kick yourself for how eager you sound. You clear your throat, “And your name is?”

“Doyoung. I think I actually met you be—”

“One Americano coming right up!” You practically shout over Doyoung. You don’t want Doyoung bringing up your embarrassing first encounter so you immediately spin around and busy yourself with preparing the coffee. You make it as quickly as possible and when you’re done you place it on the counter in front of Doyoung, mumbling about needing to help Jeno with something before disappearing to the back yet again.

As soon as the door closes you curl up into a ball of self pity. You stay there until you feel a foot nudging into your side.

“How’d it go?” Jeno asks.

“Spectacular, I made a fool out of myself again.” You sigh dramatically. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Jeno surprises you by not pushing you for more, he only sets down his magazine and heads out to the front, presumably to give you some time to wallow.

Your pity party only lasts 30 seconds because Jeno is back almost immediately, shoving something into your face.

“What’s this?” He asks, waving a small piece of paper and some money.

You groan, mentally adding another item to the long list of “Things I’ve Done to Embarrass Myself in Front of Doyoung.” In your haste to get away, you had forgotten to actually charge Doyoung for the coffee.

“You’re lucky he’s such an honest person ‘you must have been busy since you took off in quite a rush so here’s the money for my coffee and a little extra just for you :)’” Jeno says in a mockingly cutesy voice, reading from the note that Doyoung left. “Gag. Looks like he left a tip specifically for you. How unfair, he just puts it in the tip jar whenever I help him. You don’t even have half the charm I have—at least I can make conversation!”

You hit Jeno weakly on the kneecap from your position on the floor. “Shut up I’m distraught.”

“Just tell him you think he’s hot and then ask him out on a date it’s not that hard.” You make a strangled sound in your throat. “On second thought, don’t do the first part. Just ask him out on a date.”

“I don’t know anything about him and I can’t even talk to him, how am I supposed to do that?”

Jeno hums, running a hand through his hair to try and think up a solution but before he can answer, Taeil pokes his head through the door and takes in the sight of his two employees sitting down on the job.

“I can’t leave you two alone for an hour.”

—

“So,” Jeno says as you’re both scrubbing the floor at the end of your shifts (Taeil had insisted on punishing you for slacking off earlier), “I thought of a way for you to get to know Doyoung better since you’re hopeless and can’t talk to him like a normal person.” Jeno shrieks as you flick some water at him. “I’m trying to help you!”

“Then help me and stop making fun of me!” You whine.

“So Doyoung always tips, right? Well we just have to use that to our advantage.”

“It’s already our advantage, we’re getting his money.”

“Shut up for a second. We use it to our advantage by making it a game.”

“A game?”

“A game.” Jeno is grinning widely like he’s just discovered life on Mars. You don’t care; you just want to know what the hell Jeno is on about. A few more seconds of silence pass while Jeno grins stupidly before you ask if he’s ever going to explain himself.

“Ah yeah, sorry. I just got caught up in my own genius. Okay, so this is what we do. Every day we put out two tip jars and we write a question for the day above them. Each jar is a choice. Then the customer, in this case, Doyoung, puts the money into the jar that has the choice that he prefers and boom—you know a little more about him each day.”

“Hmm, but you’d have to get permission from Taeil.” You point out.

“That’s easy, I’ll just ask him nicely, he can’t resist my charm.” Jeno bats his eyelashes at you who just snorts. “Think about it, you don’t even have to talk to him. I’m a genius, I know.”

You contemplate the idea momentarily while Jeno stands up and proceeds to give himself an award and make an acceptance speech to an adoring crowd. (“And the winner for the smartest and greatest friend goes to…..Lee Jeno!”) It would minimize the amount of time you would have to actually talk to Doyoung and that definitely means less embarrassment, seeing as you’re woefully socially inept. (“Ah really, this is so unexpected, thank you, thank you!”). It sounds like it could be fun too, you could always use a little excitement to spice up your boring work day. (“First of all I’d like to thank my coworker for being unable to man up and just talk to their crush, I’d also like to thank myself for being amazing at everything I do—) You decide to go for it.

Just as you’re going to tell Jeno to shut the fuck up, Taeil comes from the back where he’s counting inventory to do it for you. “If you two are fooling around you must be done, so go home before I get a migraine.”

Jeno stands up straight to salute Taeil yelling, “Sorry, boss!” Then, taking his apron off, he tosses it on the counter and heads out the door leaving you to finish putting away the cleaning supplies.

“Some best friend, huh?” You mumble to yourself. “I’m revoking his award.”

—

By some stroke of luck, Jeno does manage to get Taeil to agree to the scheme and you set out the first two jars with the question “Cake or Pie?” written above them with each jar designating a choice. You figure it’s a safe enough option. Surprisingly, many of the customers take to it and by mid-afternoon the tip jar has twice what the cafe normally makes in tips. Though the most important customer has yet to show up.

Jeno is on break and you’re idly tapping a finger on the counter while looking bored when Doyoung finally comes in. The bell above the door tinkles and when you look up Doyoung is already smiling at you.

“Hey!” Doyoung also gives you a small little wave and you want to die because it’s so cute. You manage to squeak out a hasty “‘Hi, Doyoung” in return.

“Americano with cream?” Doyoung nods and you busy yourself with the order.

“This is new,” Doyoung hums behind you, looking at the tip jars, “and a tough choice but I’d have to go with pie. But only if it’s apple. What about you?”

“W-What?” You stutter. Doyoung wasn’t actually supposed to ask your opinion on the matter. This was for you to get to know Doyoung. The bell on the door tinkles again and you’re saved from answering as Jeno returns from his break.

“Doyoungggg!!” He practically sings when he notices him at the counter, “Long time no see.”

“I’ve been here every day for two weeks.”

“Yes, but I didn’t get to see you yesterday. Our little baby hogged all of your attention.” Jeno says reaching his arm down to ruffle your hair. You attempt to smile at this but it’s more of a grimace seeing how you had ran off at the first chance you got.

Doyoung mumbles something and you swear you make out, “It was a nice change of pace” but you can’t be sure. Though you think you might be close considering the way Jeno is smiling back and forth between the two of you. It’s a bit frightening. Doyoung’s eyes grow impossibly wider. After a few more seconds he clears his throat.

“Well, I actually gotta run.” Doyoung smiles ever so slightly at you and you can feel your face heating up in embarrassment, “I wish I could stay and talk but I’m going to be late for class.” Doyoung grabs his drink and deposits a tip in the “pie” jar before heading out the door.

“Well, I’d say that’s a successful first day.” Jeno says once Doyoung is out of sight. “Not only do you know he prefers pie, but now you know he’s a student too.” He peeks over at you who’s still staring wistfully at the doorway. “You’ll get him next time.”

—

“This is the worst, he keeps trying to talk to me.” You whine after the third day you have out the tip jars and the third day you’ve clammed up when Doyoung tries to ask you your own opinion on the choices.

Jeno gives you a long suffering sigh. “I fail to see how this is a bad thing.”

“Because you said I wouldn’t have to talk to him.”

“You are genuinely the most hopeless person I have ever met. This is actually better than you could have hoped for, now you have something to talk about and it doesn’t have to be awkward, and then once you get comfortable enough talking to him you can ask him out.”

You know your best friend is right, but you just can’t seem to see how you’ll ever manage to ask Doyoung on a date if you can’t even talk to him for more than two seconds it takes to say “Here’s your change.”

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

—

“Jeno he chose dogs over cats, our love is doomed.”

Jeno is once again in the backroom reading a magazine since Taeil is out for the moment. “Stop being so dramatic.”

“What if he hates cats? How are we supposed to fall in love and live happily ever after together with our five kittens in a house with a white picket fence where we’ll sit on the porch together when we’re old sipping lemonade and holding hands.” You say with a pout.

“First of all, gross. And secondly, did he say he hates cats?”

“No.”

“Then I wouldn’t worry about it. Also, haven’t you heard that opposites attract?”

“But what if he hates all the things that I love? We’re so different, he chooses all the wrong options.”

“This isn’t about hate, he’s just choosing the one he prefers. Plus, once you finally get the guts to ask him out, you’ll have plenty of things to discuss and argue about.” You eye him warily. “Take me and Taeil for example, he’s always trying to argue with me.”

“I sure hope you aren’t dating our boss.” You point out.

“Hey,” Jeno says while winking at you, “never say never.” He ruffles your hair and slips past you to go help some customers. He doesn’t want to hear about it from Taeil later.

—

Two days later, you arrive to work several hours later than you usually would since you had a morning doctors appointment, leaving Jeno alone for the beginning of your usual shift. It turns out to be a mistake, however. When you arrive, Jeno is talking animatedly with Doyoung about whether Team Edward or Team Jacob is the right team. It had obviously also been a mistake to let him pick the tip jar question as well.

“You see, despite Taylor Lautner objectively being hotter than Robert Pattinson, and Edward borderline stalking Bella, at least Edward respected Bella’s boundaries and never tried to force a relationship on her—“ Jeno is yammering away to a distressed looking Doyoung.

You tried not to let your heart get carried away when Doyoung’s face lights up at your arrival.

You give him a small smile and a wave and move to go put your coat away when Doyoung’s low voice stops you.

“Since Jeno is firmly on Team Edward, what about you?” Doyoung asks.

“Um,” you start, feeling a little embarrassed, “I’ve always been more of a Team Jacob supporter myself.”

Doyoung smiles softly and drops his change into the jar. “Me too.”

—

You’re restocking syrups when Doyoung comes in at his usual time later in the week. Jeno stands in front of the counter taking some of the tip money out of the jars so they wouldn’t overflow. Today’s question of Harry Potter vs. Lord of the Rings had been very popular.

As soon as Doyoung walks in, Jeno scurries to the back room leaving you alone with your crush. It only struck you as a little bit odd seeing as normally Jeno would greet Doyoung obnoxiously or try his best at embarrassing you, but you had been getting better at talking to Doyoung lately so you weren’t complaining.

Come to think of it, Doyoung was being very quiet himself. Usually he would greet you enthusiastically with a smile on his face, yet all he’s doing at the moment is staring at the tip jars with a slight frown on his face.

“I didn’t think the choice this time was that hard.” You say when Doyoung finally looks up at you.

“O-oh,” Doyoung stutters, “I-It’s not really.”

You decide to just smile cutely. Talking about the tip jars comes easily now but you haven’t mastered regular conversation so you just leave it at that.

You move to ring up Doyoung’s order but Doyoung just drops his money into the left jar that you were pretty sure was Harry Potter and turns on his heel to walk briskly out of the cafe. You frown, wondering why choosing Harry Potter would make Doyoung blush like a schoolgirl and forget to even order his coffee.

Before you can fully process what just happened, Jeno bounds out from the backroom to check the tip jars.

“Aha! I knew he would!” Still confused as ever, you ask Jeno what he’s on about. As a response Jeno just turns the jars around. It should read ‘Which one is the better series? Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings?’ and you know this because you had written it yourself that morning, but instead the card facing you says, ‘Who is more attractive? Jeno or Y/N?’

“Wh….at?” You say slowly. You’re starting to piece together why Doyoung was so flustered a few minutes ago.

“He chose you, dummy.” Jeno says.

“Yeah, but why was that the question?”

“Because you two were getting nowhere so I decided to spice things up.”

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing! I told him the choice wasn’t hard, now he’s gonna think I’m some cocky asshole!” You nearly sob.

“Relax, what he thinks is that you’re hot.” Jeno says, nudging his elbow onto your lifeless form as you’ve now planted your face onto the counter. You don’t plan on moving for the rest of your shift.

“I hate you.” You mumble into the counter when Jeno starts shaking the jar of money in your face.

“You’re welcome.”

—

You’re mortified at the previous days happenings so you force Jeno to manage the register around the time Doyoung would normally come for his coffee. You’re in the back bothering Taeil when you hear fragments of conversation between Jeno and someone who sounds suspiciously like Doyoung. You don’t want to find out.

“Hey, isn’t that the guy you’ve been trying to seduce?” Taeil asks while peering out the little window on the door.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You answer, suddenly very interested in the ties on your apron.

“You’re a terrible liar. Just go talk to him.”

“I can’t.” You grumble, “Jeno embarrassed me.”

“Yeah he’ll do that. But he’s your best friend. And he’s just trying to help.” Taeil says and he almost looks…fond? You might be going crazy.

You’re still not going out there to actually talk to Doyoung, but you creep close to the door in order to spy on him from the safety of the backroom. Just like old times.

“…they’re busy?” You catch the last part of Doyoung’s question to Jeno.

“Yeah, they’re in the back stocking inventory, so graceful and beautiful.” You roll your eyes. Jeno is really laying it on thick.

“Okay, I’ll just talk to them tomorrow I guess. Will you just tell them—“ Doyoung blushes and he looks so cute that you might squeal. “Just tell them I said hi.”

After Doyoung leaves, you decide that it’s safe to come out of hiding so you join Jeno at the register.

“I’m here to help you with my graceful form.” You say with a teasing voice.

“Listen, I’d tell you lover boy said ‘Hi’ but I know your creepy ass was eavesdropping and you already know, so if you don’t ask that boy out soon then I will set him up with someone else.”

You have no reply.

—

This is it. You decide that you’re going to be brave. You put out the final tip jar about ten minutes before Doyoung is due. You need time to mentally prepare.

This time the question is simple: Will you go on a date with me? Yes or No?’

When you finally see the familiar pair of round eyes walk through the door, you feel like you’re going to throw up. Doyoung looks so effortlessly handsome today in black jeans and a blue pullover that you almost don’t mind the rejection you’re most certainly going to receive.

Doyoung walks up to the counter with a purpose and looks as though he has something important to say when he stops and spots the tip jars, mouth opening a little in surprise.

He just stands there staring at the jars and you feel like your heart is going to fall out of your chest. He’s taking too long to decide.

You wince when Doyoung speaks, expecting the worst. “If I say yes are you going to run away again?” Doyoung questions, a tiny smile on his face.

You promptly go red, “Um, no?” You clear your throat. “No.” You say more firmly this time.

“Good.” Doyoung says, dropping his money into the appropriate jar. His smile stretches across his whole face by now and he doesn't take his eyes off you. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot with how widely you’re smiling right back at Doyoung.

“Oh my god,” Jeno yells from the backroom, “just kiss already.”

[sweetbettycooper]

A Little Miracle Chp 3 Preview

Start from the beginning or read below 

“We are so sorry Mr Jones and we understand if you want to take things further to court.”

Jughead murdered the small shaky man before him with his eyes. Staring at him with such revulsion it made him sick but eventually his answer was no. 

“I'm not going to waste anymore of my time with you. I should have never participated in this so called experiment in the first place.”

Jughead watched as the doctor suddenly sighed in relief, his whole body relaxing in an instant as the threat of legal action vanished just like all Jugheads money on a lawyer if he were to sue. 

“Well there’s an 80% chance that nothing will come of this anyway it's always unlikely. Especially on the first go that she would get pregnant and have a baby,” the doctor said so casually brushing the issue aside like dust under a rug.  

Jughead hadn't even thought of that side of things yet. It wasn’t just him mixed up in this accident and the seriousness of it all finally hit him hard. Starting to work himself up into a frightful panic Jughead stood abruptly needing some fresh air and a smoke. Not sure if he was going to vomit or kill Sweet Pea when he got home. 

“One more thing Mr Jones,” the doctor quickly spoke surprised at Jugheads sudden retreat.

“This is your compensation cheque along with your medical records we had of you here and a few other things.” The old man placed a file and a white envelope on the desk and slid it across to Jughead like he was handling blood money and didn’t want to touch it. 

“It’s also our legal obligation to give you this-” he paused wide eyed and nervous once more, this time holding out a yellow manila folder for Jughead to take. 

“What is it?” Jughead asked confused as he tucked the check into his jacket pocket and folded the remaining pieces of paper and crumbled them in to his other pocket.

“It’s the details of your sperm recipient,” He replied quietly slightly afraid of Jugheads next reaction.

Jughead almost lost all strength in his arm as he went to grasp the folder, not wanting to hold the weight of such important details in his hand. He didn’t even know what to do with it but as his grip tightened and he took it from the doctors hold he knew it was all up to him now. To deal with everything or not deal with it at all. 

“Does she know?” Jughead all but whispered.

“I don't know. I only take care of this side of things it's up to her doctor to tell her what happened.”

“Of course,” Jughead scoffed bitterly rolling his eyes in fury, before turning and marching right out that horrible office. Walking down two long corridors and past all the unsuspecting patients in the waiting room. He twisted his face into an uncomfortable expression as he finally breathed fresh air. 

He could smell something and he knew it was him. 

He was in deep shit. 

-----

Sweet Pea heard him before he saw him. 

An outrageous smash of tools and metal hitting the floor followed by a symphony of cursing and yelling filled Riverdale motors that afternoon. Sweet Pea didn’t want to roll out from under the car he was working on from fear of Jugheads foul mood. Knowing it was safer to stay well away. 

But when he heard a crack that sounded more like bone than anything else Sweet Pea swiftly ejected himself from under an old BMW and sprang to his feet. Looking across the garage and past the wave of destruction hurricane Jones had left in his wake, he found the man himself. Clutching his right fist in his other hand and bending over in agony. The wall definitely looked better than he did. 

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Sweet Pea shouted, shaking his head,“You idiot.”

Jughead was now shaking out of rage and pure agony. His hand was throbbing so badly he was sure it was going to explode just like he was. 

But through all the pain he couldn’t even muster a fighting word to bite back at Sweet Pea. Instead with a wicked scowl he side eyed his so called friend and raised his middle finger in revulsion. 

This was all his fault. 

He was the IDIOT. 

The site of Sweet Pea made Jughead even more enraged or maybe that was just the stabbing pain in his hand. Either way the office was where Jughead decided to spend the rest of the afternoon. 

Alone with his pain, thoughts and mountains of tax invoices he needed to sort. 

Dropping himself into the soft desk chair that was far more comfortable than the office chair he sat in hours earlier Jughead tried to calm down. Still holding his hand in torturous pain it almost helped him forget the morning he had just had. 

He threw the unwanted and heavy manila folder he had carried all the way from the doctor's office in the far corner under as many sheets of paper he could find. Out of sight out of mind. Surprised at himself that he hadn’t already burnt it with his cigarette lighter or throw it in the trash. 

Jughead couldn’t escape the fact that he was a tiny bit curious. Temptation is a horrible thing and no matter how hard he tried to think about part ordering and invoice payments nothing could stop the little voice in his head. 

Should I look at the name?

Do I have a responsibility to contact her?

What if the 20% was me and I become a dad? 

What if she is married or old or poor and can’t support a baby?

He was driving himself mad with uncertainty. Going around and around in circles. 

But what's in a name? 

It wouldn't tell him anything specific it couldn't hurt. It’s merely a word strung together with a series of letter. Finally reaching for the folder reasoning that getting it over and done with will help him feel less stressed Jughead opened it. Rifling through the pages he realised most of it was unnecessary legal documents that made the folder look a lot more important than it was. He skimmed most of the pages only finding complex legal jargon and something about a second party. 

Nothing specific to anyone else except him. 

With a heavy and slightly relieved sigh Jughead let the pages fall from the folder into the trash can. Letting the paper slide away like his worry. 

Maybe not knowing was better. 

“Ignorance is bliss right?” He thought to himself as he leaned down and grabbed his PB&J sandwich from the mini fridge and placed it on his hand which was now turning a brilliant purple. His sandwich had another purpose today. 

About to rest back in his chair and nurse his injury Jughead noticed a pink sticky note under his desk. Immediately confused by this as all their office sticky notes were yellow thanks to Sweet Pea and his “pink hating” ways Jughead picked it up.

The writing was smeared with what smelt like toffee and seemed as though a preschooler had just learned how to write. But amongst all that chicken scratch was one word. One name and one phone number. 

DONEE 

BETTY COOPER

555 437 090

Jughead could feel his entire body going into organ failure as he sat rigid in his chair, staring at the so called harmless name that he so naively thought would bring him no harm. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. Dieing from horror. 

“Jughead!” Sweet pea’s voice suddenly rumbled into the office shaking him slightly eliciting more fear into his blood. 

 “There’s a Betty Cooper here to see you.”