#and I got sunburned on day one of working on the chicken run

[tommi3boy]

“I think you’re breathtaking to look at“| {SDV Harvey x GN! reader}

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

Pairing: Harvey x gn! Farmer

A/N: no name used, established relationship but not dating, slow burn confession

Summary: Harvey sees how sunburnt you’ve gotten and asks that you take a few days off from being in the sun. While you spend the day indoors, Harvey visits you and y’all do some Zumba together.

Like clockwork, you could find a handsome doctor at Gunther’s library every Saturday. This is the day of the week when you would normally come by and donate some of the relics you found to the libraries museum. Seeing Harvey outside the clinic was somehow refreshing, so you found yourself (un)intentionally picking up on his schedule. This Saturday was no different; Harvey was standing in the nonfiction section of the library, flipping through a hardcover book. He’s normally more relaxed and approachable at this time, so you went to greet him. “What’s a handsome fella like yourself doing with their face in a book?” The question slightly startled Harvey, his shoulders relaxed when he realized it was just you. “Hello to you too farmer” a soft smile suited Harvey’s face after realizing you called him handsome. However, that expression of his slowly dissipated once he studied your appearance more closely. “Your burnt to a crisp farmer! The summer UV’s are no joke, have you not been using proper sun protection?”

This interaction didn’t go how you planned, Harvey ended up lecturing you about the importance of sunscreen and said to take a few days break away from direct sunlight.

-

Because you respect Harvey’s judgement you’re now lathered in aloe vera, spending the day in your cabin. There was still daily upkeep needed on the farm so you got up before the sunrise; your poor chickens didn’t enjoy their beauty sleep being interrupted.

You were so used to running around all day with stuff lined up to do, that a break from it took you off guard. Almost like the feeling of being on edge, needing a way to stimulate that same routine of yours. This lend to you rummaging through your grandpas few belonging left in the cabin; you ended up finding an old phone book with numbers of the townsfolk. Most of the numbers were outdated; many of the names you didn’t recognize. But Evelyn and George’s home phone was scribbled out, as well as the Mayors. Unless the landlines in the townsfolk’s homes were disconnected, you bet you could eventually contact someone in the valley by going down the list on the old phone book.

-

Ring . Ring . Ring

“Hello? This is Pelican Town’s clinic, how may I help you?”

“Harvey! wow this thing really works, you’re one of the only people in town that still have their landline connected.”

“Farmer? Why are you calling the clinic, are you alright?”

“I’ve been screwed around with this phone all morning, I thought maybe it didn’t work because I wasn’t getting through to anyone but then I managed to get you on the line.”

“Sounds like an eventful morning, I’ve kept the line connected for my older clients, it tends to be easier for them to contact me with it.”

You felt like you were in an old 80s rom-com listening to Harvey speak on the phone. You imagined him leaned back in that old office chair behind the clinics counter. Was he excited to hear from you? He doesn’t sound very busy but that doesn’t mean he wants to sit and chat’ you thought to yourself.

“Alright, well I was just seeing if the phone worked, I’ll let you get back to work doctor.”

“O-, there’s not much work to be done actually, might close a little early today. How’s your sunburn? I have a good cream for burns if you need any.”

“It’s fine, I’m sure in a few days it’ll start to peel and I’ll get a fresh new layer of skin. I could use like, melatonin or something though; this lack of activity is making me all jittery.”

“Hm, well I wouldn’t recommend melatonin unless you exhibited sleep issues. Let’s see,, I normally get off in about 2 hours, but if you’d like I can do an at home visit and help you relieve some of that energy?”

Get your mind out of the gutter. This is a nice man trying to help you out, a very attractive one at that. If it wasn’t Harvey saying it you’d think that sort of offer was flirting. All your flirtatious efforts in the past directed at Harvey seem to go in one ear and out the other; he just doesn’t seem interested in that way.

“sure I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“Alright then, let me close up the clinic and I’ll be over shortly.”

Your skin feels sort of tingly now, maybe it’s just from the sunburn.

-

Harvey arrived at your doorstep roughly 30 minutes later. He had changed from his work clothes into a more casual t-shirt and sweats; and was carrying a small tote bag. You noticed he was flushed in the face after walking all the way to your farm. When you invited him in, he pulled out an iPod and a small speaker from his bag and said “l thought you might be interested in doing a bit of Zumba with me.” ‘So that’s what he meant when he said he could help.’ It’s endearing how a few months ago he was practically begging you not to tell anyone he attends Caroline’s aerobic class, and is now asking you to do Zumba with him.

-

Once he set up the speaker, he shortly briefed you on doing either 1. You can copy him, or 2. Just make up your own groove. He then got an 80’s dance playlist on shuffle. Donna Summer’s ‘I Feel Love’ started playing, the small speaker was surprisingly loud. Harvey seemed to really be in the zone while he was trying to find his rhythm. Mostly light foot work at first, like he was warming his way up the body, then some shoulder shimmies; soon he seemed to be fully immersed in the upbeat music. It was honestly adorable that he felt comfortable enough to do this with you. You wanted to make sure that Harvey wasn’t the only dork in the room, so you quickly found your rhythm and started doing your own little thing. Out of all the people in town, you’d only let Harvey see this is side of you; by no means were you a good dancer. You didn’t feel judged in the slightest letting off some steam with him.

After 3 songs played and a lot of groofing off, you felt surprisingly winded, you hadn’t realize Zumba was this much of a workout. Once the 3rd song finished, you took a break and sat on the floor. Harvey quickly joined you trying to catch his own breath.

“God I didn’t know zumba was such a workout, that wiped me out quick”

You and Harvey laughed at the state both of you were in.

“It’s definitely more taxing than it looks, I could barely get through 1 song when I was starting out”

Harvey told you he had started going to Caroline’s classes roughly the same time you moved in to the valley.

“Were you trying to get in shape since a hot new face had moved in?” You were joking but the comment had Harvey turning his head away from you. You saw his ear turn red. The moment of silence was awkward since Harvey didn’t laugh at your flirtatious joke like he normally would.

“In all honesty, I think that might be true. When you moved in I felt more motivated to do things that would better myself. Looking back at it I wanted to catch your attention but I was never very up front about that kind of thing. I made it seem like I was solely doing it for health reasons.”

This response came as a shock to you, Harvey never really opened up to you like this. Internally cursing yourself for joking like that, you wanted the joke to be true but now that it is you’re at a loss for words. Harvey was patiently waiting for a response.

“If anyone else in this town had brought an iPod to my cabin and asked me to do Zumba with them, I’d say HELL no. You’re the only person in town I’d do this with.”

“, I’m glad to hear that farmer”

“You should try and be more up front with me about these kinds of things, I mean, I call you The Handsome Doctor like every other day”

“I can never tell if that’s a joke or not, if anything, your the one who should try and be more up front”

“I feel like calling you attractive is pretty up front”

“Alright well, I think you’re breathtaking to look at, even when you’re extremely sunburnt, so much so that I often have to not look at you or I lose my train of thought.”

You don’t know if you can handle up front Harvey. What are you supposed to say to that confession.

“You better watch out cuz you’re going to end up seeing this face a lot more now that you’ve said that” Your response sounded more like threatening than you wanted it to, why couldn’t you have said something sweet’ you thought.

“I’d love to see you more often farmer, I’m glad I got that off my chest.”

-

Harvey packed up his iPod and speaker shortly after that eventful conversation. The Zumba did in fact help your nerves, or maybe it was Harvey’s presence that put you at ease. You thanked Harvey for helping you, and he said “Let me know if you ever need a dance partner again, oh and here-”

Harvey handed you a bottle of sunscreen.

[compose-myself]

Due to a wildly irresponsible athletics coach in high school, I got heat stroke repeatedly as a kid. Now I’m just a couple hours away from heat stroke any given day in summer.

Here’s my recommendations if you have to be outside:

-Hair back in a braid and off your neck. Even a pony tail is still essentially a wool blanket hanging down your neck.

-Straw or bucket hat with vents and a wide brim. We’re called rednecks for a reason.

-Sports bra/bikini top with an open weave net beach coverup a la

-Shorts. I hate shorts. I feel half naked in shorts and my legs chafe. Hate them. Still wear them. Antiperspirant between your thighs helps a lot with the chafing.

-White sneakers for working, sandals otherwise. Too much sweat around your toes gets gross fast.

-Camel pack with ice water/gatorade and ice blocks wrapped in towels. Drink every time you feel even the slightest bit thirsty. You will be going inside for refills multiple times a day. Make your peace with the inconvenience.

-Put out two water bowls for your pets, one with ice.

-If little kids get sleepy and want a nap when they usually don’t need one, they’re probably overheating. Get them in a cool bath before they go down.

-Dedicate a significant percentage of your freezer space to ice trays. Even if you have an ice maker.

-If possible, acclimate slowly. You can move your comfort zone up a good fifteen degrees if you do it over a month or two.

-Siestas were invented for a reason. Start work as early as you can, the break from 3-7, then finish up and clean up.

-Carry chapstick. You can get tubes of gel that won’t leak if they melt in your pocket.

-Carry a spritz bottle. I can’t always get inside immediately when I get overheated and stop sweating. Spritz yourself all over, including the top of your head to cool off your hair.

-If you do overheat, get in a cool shower if possible. Otherwise hold ice packs to places close to blood flow: your neck, your wrists, between your thighs over your femoral arteries. Your entire blood volume cycles through your kidneys every couple minutes so if you can cool them off you’ll cool your whole body. Just holding your bare wrists under a running tap will work wonders in a pinch.

-Sleep naked if possible. Your nether regions are going to sweat a lot. Cool shower and air time will help prevent issues. If issues do happen, there’s a diaper rash ointment in the baby aisle called Baby Butt Paste that helps a lot.

-SUNSCREEN obviously. If you get sunburned anyway, aloe goop helps. For the love of all that’s holy, DO NOT USE ICY-HOT ON SUNBURNED SKIN. I do not care how sore your muscles are. That is curl-up-and-puke levels of pain.

-Plan for cold meals. Fruit and veggies, sandwiches, chicken/egg/tuna salad etc. You don’t want to run your stove or oven if you don’t have to. If you can though, eat spicy food. It kicks your body into extra cooling measures without actually adding heat to your system.

-Smoothies are better than ice cream and popsicles. Sugar makes it harder to thermoregulate and dairy doesn’t always sit well in the heat. Spinach, avacado, frozen blueberries, a spoonful of cocoa powder and a spoonful of lemon curd. Even picky toddlers will love it even though it’s essentially a salad in a cup.

-Grapes don’t freeze solid (it’s why we don’t have grape ice cream) so snack sized baggies of frozen grapes make fantastic cold snacks. No danger of broken teeth.

-If you lose power, don’t open your fridge/freezer unless you absolutely have to. Your food will stay cold enough for a couple hours if they’re not exposed to warm air.

Good luck!

For all of the northerners that stood up for Texas during our freeze and said, "Don't make fun of them, they've never dealt with this before. Their infrastructure isn't made for snow and freezing."

This one is for you.

Where I live 108°F with 80% humidity with no wind is normal.

Pacific North West is dealing historic best waves 35-40°C or 95-105°F.

First of all. Don't make fun of them for bitching about the heat. Just like Texas isn't built for a freeze and our pipes burst, Pacific North West isn't built for heat and a lot of their homes don't have AC.

If you live somewhere with a high humidity like 80+ HUMIDITY IS NOT YOUR FRIEND. The "humidity makes it feel cooler" is a lie once it gets beyond a point.

If you live somewhere with a lower humidity, misters are nice to cool off outside.

Once you get over 90°F (32°C) a fan will not help you. It's just pushing around hot air. (I mean if you can't afford a small AC unit because they're expensive as hell, by all means a fan is better than nothing).

If you have pets, those portable AC units aren't safe. If your pets destroy the outtake thing, it'll leak CO2. Window units are safer.

Window AC units will let mosquitoes or other small bugs in. Sucks, but that's life.

Now is not the time to me modest. If you have to cover for religious reasons, by all means. If you don't, I've seen people wear short shorts and a swim top. It's not trashy if it keeps you from getting heat stroke.

If you do have to cover up for religious reasons, look for elephant pants or something similar. They're made with a breathable material.

Shade is better than no shade, but that shit it just diet sun after some point. Don't think shade will save you from heat stroke.

I know the "drink your water" is a fun meme now, but if you're sweating excessively you need electrolytes. Drink Gatorade, Powerade, or Pedialite PLEASE. I don't care if you're fucking sitting in one spot all day. That shit WILL save you from heat stroke.

Most importantly. RESEARCH THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HEAT STROKE AND HEAT EXHAUSTION PLEASE!

If you're diabetic and can't drink Gatorade, mix water, fruit juice, and either lite salt or pink salt

If you can afford it, cover windows with thick curtains to insulate the house

If you have tile floors, lay on them with skin to tile contact. If you don't, laying your head on cool counters works too.

If the temperature where you're at is hotter than your body temperature, don't wear heat wicking clothing. Moisture wicking is safe though.

Check your medication labels. Many make you more susceptible to sun and heat

-Room temperature water will get into your body faster. This is something I learned doing marching band in high summer in Georgia, and it saved all of our asses. Sip it, don't gulp it, especially if you're getting into the red; same goes for whatever fluid you're drinking. And just in general drink during the day.

-If you are moving from an air conditioned space to an un-air conditioned space, if at all possible try to make the shift gradual. When my dad and I were working outside and in un-ac houses a few years ago, he'd turn the air down to low in the truck about ten-fifteen minutes before we got where we were going. This way your body doesn't go from low low temps to high temps. S'bad for you.

-If you can, keep your lights off during the day. Light bulbs may not generate a lot of heat, but the difference is noticeable when it gets hot enough. I literally only turn my bedroom light on in the evening when it gets too dark.

Don't be afraid to just like... pour water on yourself if you need to. The evaporation will cool you off.

Put your hand to the cement for 15 seconds. If you can't handle the heat, it'll burn your dog's paws. Don't let them walk on it.

Dogs with flat faces are more prone to heat stroke. Don't leave them out unsupervised.

Frozen fruit is delicious in water.

Wet/Cold hat/handkerchief on your head/neck will help you stay cool.

Pickle juice is great for electrolytes! You can even make pickle juice Popsicles!

Heat exhaustion is more, "drink water and get you cooled off." Heat stroke is more "Oh my god call 911."

Image Description provided by @loveize

[Image description: an infographic showing the difference between heat exhaustion and heat stroke. The graphic is labeled "Heat Dangers: First Warning." Signs of heat exhaustion: faint or dizzy, excessive sweating, cool, pale, clammy skin, rapid, weak pulse, muscle cramps. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat exhaustion, get to a cool, air-conditioned place, drink water if conscious, and take a cool shower or use cold compress. Signs of heat stroke: throbbing headache, no sweating, red, hot, dry skin, rapid, strong pulse, may lose consciousness. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat stroke, call 911. End description]

Be safe.

-fae

[xboxdudett]

Ok so I don't know what deity or spirit or entity or whatever I've pissed off, but this shit is getting ridiculous.

This has officially been the week from hell. Everything has gone wrong. And my family in general is known for its terrible luck, me especially (I mean, shit, I've literally been struck by lightning twice, that's pretty fucking unlucky) but the last few days have been terrible.

First, our cat Ash developed a terrible UTI that we had to rush him to the emergency vet for. It was terrifying for the fact that we woke up to him practically screaming and leaving literal puddles of blood all over the house. It's taken several rounds of different medications but it finally seems to be getting better, thankfully.

Next, my dad and I have been working on building a chicken run (just a large fenced in area for the chickens to live in without the fear of any predators getting them). The brilliance of our design is that it will back up to my little garden and in the fall and spring we can let them in it to scrounge around. SO, we have to dig two holes right next to the garden, which is enclosed by an old dog pen, so that no deer or anything eat the plants (we live in the middle of nowhere so it is actually a huge concern).

First hole went great. No problems. Post is leaning a little because of the dog kennel, but no big deal. Second hole?? ...........not so much. Posthole digger hit a stone when we were pulling it up and jumped over against the fence.

It ATE IT.

Literally wrapped it up around it and ate it.

We also had a shovel and a tamp leaning against the dog kennel when it was eaten (this tamp being a 1&1/2 in piece of steel that is 7ft long and weighs about 25lbs). The shovel was completely destroyed, with the handle being snapped into about 5 pieces and the tamp was bent.

I didn't know it could be bent.

After this all happened and we were cleaning up the mess, this abesolute bastard of a tool fell over and hit me on the right side of my chest, right beneath my collar bone. I've since developed a huge knot and bruise, plus it fucking hurts.

So, we wrap that day up and go to the store the next day to get a new dog kennel, since my precious plants are now exposed to the dangers of the world. There goes $300 that no one had AND it's too big to fit in our truck, so we have to drive the 20 minutes home to get a trailer to then go back and get it.

With the kennel in tow we head home and get lunch on the way. My dad proceeds to drop the food in the floor board when it's handed to him and then when we get home and he goes to get out, he manages to kick the bag of food out onto the ground. 😑

We go back to work on the chicken run after eating our slightly smashed lunch and it feels like nothing goes right. Nothing is lining up, we forgot to measure a post before we buried it so then we have to pull it up and do it again, I almost tripped and fell about 50 times, you know....the usual shit.

Next day, aka, today. Get a call from the VET; they've been reviewing Ash's records from his last visit and have found that he has hook worms. He's an indoor cat and gets regular preventative medicine but whatever. Fuck me, I guess. Have to go pick up his medicine.

My dad and I gather up all the trash and head to the dump. EXCEPT THE DUMP IS CLOSED BECAUSE IT'S GOOD FRIDAY. While turning around to head back home, my dad backs up against a short pole that was sticking up out of the ground and slashes the back right tire.

There is no patching that shit, ladies and gentlemen. So there goes another $400 🙃

OH

And at some point in this last week of madness one of the cats was out in the garage and chewed through the wires on the garage door, so it has been out of commission for several days now. AND the same teething-bastard chewed through my headphone cord last night so I had to order a new set this morning. 😐

I'm done, y'all. I'm just done. I don't know if any of you can hook me up with someone to lift this curse, but please don't hesitate to help a girl out.

[sdvharveybby]

How the Bachelors handle farm work

So, I got the inspiration of this from the parking lot of Walmart. Don’t ask- I don’t know.

Also, these are hella long but I just LOVED writing this. I really did- they all are just so cute. I hope y’all enjoy reading this!!

 Alex

Ever just wanted to move a straight up cow? Then boy do I have the man for you!!

Honestly, because Alex trains so much he has the stamina and strength of a bull. He will help you move anything you need him to for as long as you need him too. Hay bales? He’s got it. You need help hoeing, planting seeds, and watering? Literally no problem. Because he hasn’t been so big on book learning- he loves learning through his physical strength. He loves when you teach him the basics of crop growing and how to properly take care of animals, and once you teach him- you can just let him run wild. He’ll then realize how physically stressing your job is and will soon put ‘working on the farm’ as part of his regiment. (Plus seeing him chop down trees shirtless isn’t such a bad sight, heh heh.)

You soon realize that he just loves all the cows. He moo’s back to tease them almost all the time, but genuinely enjoys feeding them and giving them pats on the head. His favorite way of showing off to you is going, “Hey, honey!” when you turn around, you’re always surprised to see him just holding a calf in his arms. His beaming smile makes your heart flutter.

Alex is always willingly to help you out on the farm in any way he can- sometimes you don’t know if it’s because he loves you or it’s because he thinks of it as training. With time though, you see that it’s actually both. He loves when you ask him for help because he enjoys knowing that you depend on him too and showing off his muscles in some way just makes him smile. He loves making you laugh, so while you take care of the chickens- he likes to make funny voices for the cows.

His constant help on the farm and his drive to make you laugh, has you loving him even more.

Sam

Sam doesn’t know a whole lot about farming, but he absolutely loves working with the animals. I’d imagine goats would be his favorite because they’re just so weird. I mean, he’s fascinated by the fact that they just want to eat everything in sight- soley because they can and that they don’t know any better.

Another reason Sam loves working with the animals is that once he realizes they’re safe and relatively easy to handle- he brings Vincent along to show him how to pet and take care of the animals. Sometimes you’ll see Penny, Vincent, and Jas on a field trip to the farm so that Sam can actually be a guide to them (of course Jas also gets the opportunity of showing off what she knows since she lives on a farm herself.)

There is nothing more wholesome than seeing Sam’s goofy smile when working with the kids. He loves feeling like he’s a part of the children’s lives and enjoys teaching them lifelong lessons.

Although… Seeing him fighting the goats as they try and eat his shirt is one of the funniest parts of your day. You can’t help but laugh as you watch him tell the goats to, “F*CK OFF!” (only sometimes do you actually help him.)

Sebastian

Sebastian wasn’t to keen on helping you out on the farm when you first asked for his help. “I’ll just screw things up.” He kept saying to you, but one day, as a present you give him a pure black egg with freckles on it. You tell him that it’s a very special looking chicken that’s hard to obtain, but that when it grows up it’s black. Oh man. When you told him this, he was ALL about this chicken. He placed the egg in the incubator and every single day- he would check up on it until it hatched.

The chicken and him were absolutely inseparable. You’d find him talking to himself all throughout the day until you find out that he puts the little chick in his sweatshirt pocket and literally carries it around everywhere with him. He shows off his little chick to everyone he knows- what made the chicken and him even closer was that people were just as weirded out by the chicken as they were of Sebastian. “I want to call my chicken, Midnight” He explains one day, “I actually feel like Midnight understands me as much as you do.”

Sure, Sebastian wasn’t great help with any of the other tasks on the farm, but the fact that he gives you the biggest, goofiest looking smile whenever he holds Midnight- it makes it all worth it. You’re happy that you could give Sebastian something to look forward to each and every day. It’s not long until you have a pet bed in your own house- just for Midnight, but you can’t complain. Seeing Sebastian smile as often as he had been was enough for you.

Harvey

The physical work was not Harvey’s specialty. After trying to assign him different tasks- you figured that you should let Harvey do what he wanted to do. After all, you married the goofball because you enjoyed his independent and nurturing side. (Getting patched up or given a deep tissue massage after a long day was wonderful.)

It wasn’t until you saw him grumbling over some paperwork that you asked him what he was doing, “I know I don’t have the endurance and strength to help you out on the farm, but I wanted to help you out at least in some way.” When he hands you the papers- you find out that he had been tallying every single expense made on the farm. In short, he decided he wanted to handle all of the farms finances whilst also checking crop prices each season and dating them back through the years to see what crops made the most money. “Grow potatoes in Spring, blueberries in Summer, and cranberries in the Fall.” He started, “As you can see here-“ and that’s where you lost him. Going through all the numbers made your head spin, but the fact that he did this all on his own and that he wanted to do it gave you so much relief. After a flurry of kisses- he was happy to know that he was doing a good thing.

Although you also find that when you patch up the Greenhouse- he gets excited. You find out that the expansive farm was just overwhelming to him and he didn’t want to get sunburned or heat exhaustion (which happened to you often.) You give him the territory of the Greenhouse and tell him, “Just work on it on the days you want too. You’re not required to do anything.”

You soon find it extremely touching though when he routinely presents you with flowers that he grew himself. He explains that he only wanted the Greenhouse to gift you flowers all year long.

Elliot

Elliot finds the farm relaxing and fascinating. Having only lived on the beach- the farm was an entirely new territory that he got to explore. Every day, you’d find breakfast on the table with a note on it. You understood the general theme within each note being about ‘beauty’. He’d ask you the same question every day once you finished reading it, “Do you understand it yet?” What does he mean by ‘yet’, you wonder? Sheepishly you finally understood what every single note meant, and he was writing about you the whole time. When tiny snowflakes covered your hair in the Winter when you came in in the evening to how the sunlight glistened on your skin in the Summer. You finally get that his real fascination was watching and admiring you while you worked.

That’s not to say that he didn’t help you sometimes. Working on the farm humbled him greatly and inspired him to continuously write every single day. Before you knew it- he had multiple books published that became successful, all because he had you and your farm as inspiration.

His biggest physical help on the farm was taking care of the plants that grew each of the three seasons. He loved working on the farm with you because his enjoyment was discovering the new leaves that grew over night- or that a flower would bud on the potatoes. He was routinely in awe at the new discoveries in plant life that he couldn’t give it up. You would give him a section of the farm to take care of- only come to find out that when you finished your section, he was too distracted by about the third plant that you would have to finish it for him. He would always profusely apologize about it, but you found it touching that even something as simple as a plant was just so exciting to him.

Sometimes he looked like a little kid- mouth agape and eyes sparkling when he’d see a plant, he personally took care of growing bigger and bigger. As a gift, you gave him planters so he could better watch the plant life grow. His big, sweet smiles stick in your mind, making you smile too. He was just too cute.

Shane

You expected him to basically fight you over the chicken coop. But with everything that Shane had been through- you didn’t want to stand in the way of what made him happy. He complained about his body a lot, but you will never see this man run harder just to tell you that a new chick hatched overnight. You’d find yourself just watching him as he would chase the chickens around the pen only to then get swarmed by them- knocking him in on his ass every time. You would just laugh amongst all the bawking as he’d try to free himself. Now, he never hurt a chicken, and they’ve never hurt him- they just swarm him because they want too. It’s like one minute you’re watering your crops, just to turn and hear him scream as a mass of feathers cover him. You’d wash his clothes and routinely find feathers stuck in his pockets- you decided to collect them. One day you’ll make fun of him for it or cover the entire side of his bed with them. The feather prank was all in your hands.

Now, you thought he just had an affection for the birds until you get him to talk about them. Shane knows EVERYTHING about chickens- when’s the best time to feed them, what to feed them, how much to feed them, how to take care of their feathers, how to handle an egg-bound chicken, how to care for newly hatched chicks- this man knew everything. It wasn’t long until he knew the exact spot each chicken loved to be scratched at.  He’d explain that every chicken had a different spot that they loved being petted at- it was mind boggling.

Now Jas knew a whole lot about farming, but Shane would consistently bring her to the farm. She loved it too! Jas got to see Shane genuinely happy all the time and it brought her a lot of comfort to see him mess with the chickens (and the chickens mess with him back.) She was so happy to know that Shane was content and satisfied with his life now- instead of lonely and depressed. He expressed joy, and even to Jas- Shane was teaching her new things about chickens every time she came over. She’s smart, but there were things that he shows her that blows her mind.

Through it all- you knew Shane wouldn’t be big on helping out on the farm, but you knew if you could get him in the chicken coop, it would make him undeniably happy. That was enough for you- you didn’t marry him to make him work on the farm- you married him because of his goof ball smile and nerdy talk about chickens and it made you so so happy.

It also helped that he could take a joke and that you two could tease each other- filling his side of the bed with feathers cracked you up at the twisted face he gave. He was happy, and that made you happy.

[pedros-mustache]

convenience

summary: he was within arm’s reach. that’s all.

warnings: suggestions of harassment, alcohol consumption, language, innuendo

a/n: no thoughts, frankie morales and his broad shoulders only. poorly edited so forgive any mistakes you find. i’ll go back and fix soon.

you rarely come to the bar alone. tonight is an anomaly.

grabbing drinks after a long work week is more enjoyable with friends by your side, and you frequent this particular watering hole what feels like every friday but can’t be more than twice a month. life is busy for you and what friends remain from your college days. babies and partners and jobs—it keeps everyone running to and fro like chickens with their heads cut off. (for you, of course, it’s just the job that’s got you strung out. no husband, no babies. that shouldn’t matter, but sometimes it does.) still, despite hectic schedules, there’s a standing date a few times a month: friday, eight o’clock, the booth with the cracked-plastic seat coverings in the far right corner.

you like the noisy atmosphere of this place, and it’s easy to lose a few hours while gossiping over cheap margaritas, a whitney houston song thumping over the tinny loudspeakers. the air smells like cigarette smoke—that’s your only qualm—but the drinks are cheap, the food is passable, and it’s a chance to let loose and really enjoy yourself after a five days of business boredom. 

of course, that’s what “the hot bird” is like most of the time. today is different. today is tuesday, it’s six-thirty, and you really shouldn’t be here alone.

you twirl the thin plastic straw around your drink and risk a glance over your shoulder. there’s a guy in your regular booth—red-faced with alcohol, tie loosened, dress shirt two sizes too big. you know he’s staring at you because you can feel his eyes on your back, your hips, your ass; he’s anything but discreet. his stare hurts like a healing sunburn: itchy, uncomfortable, hard to ignore. even from across the bar, his focus is unyielding, and you doubt he’s one to be easily dissuaded, not with the rabble-rousing friends at his booth, jostling drinks and shoulders alike. you imagine he’s biding his time, waiting for you to feel comfortable so he can strike. which is exactly what you need after being passed up for promotion (again): a drunk asshole bent on making your shitty day worse just for the hell of it.

the bartender—josh—says your name and sets a cocktail down on the counter in front of you. “here,” he says. he jerks his chin forward, indicating the back of the room. “it’s from the guy in the back.”

“oh god.” you resist the urge to look over your shoulder again. the muscles in your neck twitch, scream at you to turn and appraise the self-satisfied smirk on this guy’s face, but you hold still. you are nothing if not resolute in your determination to mind your on business, wallow in self pity, and get home without much of a fuss. “what the fuck is this thing?”

josh cringes. “it’s a b-52, our least popular drink.”

“it looks like spilled motor oil and congealed grease had a baby.”

to your right, in the barstool two over from yours, there’s a snort of amusement. your eyes snap to the side, but don’t register the other patron before josh is tapping your wrist. you hold your breath, stomach clenching at the conciliatory look on his face.

“don’t look now. i think he’s coming over.”

“of course he is,” you mutter, dropping your forehead to your palm. fuck, you really do not want to cry right now, but tears prick the corners of your eyes anyway. traitorous bastards. it’s been a long day, and you aren’t sure you have the mental fortitude to tactfully tell some guy to piss off without causing a scene or bursting into a blubbering mess.

“i can tell him—”

a smooth, unflustered voice cuts josh off mid-sentence. “no, let me.” 

a half-filled pint of beer and a plastic basket of fries slide across the counter, and then a man, shoulders broad and trucker cap pulled low, drops to the stool beside you. you gape at him, jaw hanging. the guy from two stools over—eavesdropper.

“unless,” he continues. “you want to tell him to fuck off yourself. i’m sure you can—you look like a capable woman—but i know men and sometimes...” he trails off, but you catch his drift well enough. you know men too, and the men who frequent this bar are often of the seedier variety.

except maybe not this guy... he seems nice enough, willing to lend a hand, and after the day you’ve had, you’ll take any help you can get. plus he’s easy on the eye, and it’s been awhile since anyone with such a handsome face paid you any mind.

you twist slightly in your stool, turning your body to face him. you open your mouth to offer your name, but he beats you to it, sliding his hand over the low, curved back of your stool. his presence—so masculine yet so gentle—crowds you, and you fight the urge to suck in a sharp breath. mouth hovering over your ear, he lowers his voice, and his opposite hand, long fingers splayed outwards, settles on the counter. you’re boxed in, an arm on either side of your body, but, strangely, it feels... good, safe even.

“i’m frankie,” he says. “just follow my lead, and we’ll both be out of your hair in no time.”

you turn your face to meet frankie’s eyes. he’s so near you can feel his breath on your cheeks, could kiss his plush lips if you dared. his smile, small but encouraging, eases the clench in your stomach. your gaze drifts from his warm, brown eyes to the thumb-sized spot on his chin absent the fine layer of scruff otherwise covering his jaw. god, he’s handsome.

“uh—excuse me? i couldn’t help but notice you ignored the drink i sent over.” the man from the back of the room leans against the counter, his gaze tight on your face, elbows poised casually on the bar. his voice belies none of the uncertainty he should probably feel when confronted with your obvious disinterest and frankie’s breadth. “picked my favorite for a sweet thing like you.”

gritting your teeth, you turn your head. “thanks, but i don’t think—” your resolve wavers when the man’s fat lips spread into a grin. shit, he likes this doesn’t he—how uncomfortable you are? he reminds you of richard, the guy who got the promotion you deserve: smarmy and entirely too good at weaseling. your stomach sours.

“you can’t turn me down until you at least take a sip of the thing.” reaching over his chest, the man picks up the cocktail. the three distinct layers jostle in the small shot glass.

perhaps he sees the fine sheen of tears that rush to your eyes or perhaps it’s just to make a point, but frankie’s hand drops to your thigh. the warmth of his palm filters through the mesh of your tights. without thinking, you twine your fingers through his and squeeze. 

“she said no, man.” 

for the first time, your would-be-suitor’s stare slides to focus on frankie. he arches a thin eyebrow. there’s no mistaking the way his chest inflates as frankie straightens his spine. “yeah? and who are you?”

frankie speaks without hesitation. “her boyfriend.” 

the man huffs, incredulous. “well, you didn’t claim her before now so i’m just taking my shot. free pick, ya know? first come first serve.”

frankie slides from the stool to standing. he’s near the same height as the other man, but there’s something about the clench in his jaw and the way his fingers tighten around yours and the way he moves to grip your shoulder than has you leaning into him despite the anger rolling off him in sharp waves. your shoulder pushes against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and you hold your breath.

“say that again and i’ll crack your skull open on the counter.”

the man blinks, stunned, then laughs. it’s a harsh, nervous bark. his eyes flit to the back of the room then return to frankie. “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. what are you? some macho man?” 

“no—retired special forces. i can and i will make your life a living hell if you don’t crawl back into the hole you came from. leave my lady alone.”

“shit.” the man shakes his head before tossing the rejected cocktail down his throat with a cringe. “ain’t fucking worth it anyway.” he slams the glass down on the counter and, heeding frankie’s advice, returns to sulk in the back booth, tail tucked between his legs.

frankie waits until the asshole is sat snug in his booth before returning to his stool. he pops a now-cold fry in his mouth then tags a long swig of his beer. you watch him and decide you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly in your entire life. 

“thank you,” you breathe. “i—fuck, i didn’t realize you’d be so... intimidating.” 

frankie shrugs, eats another fry. he avoids your eye. “hate to see you treated like that. least i can do.” 

you hum in approval, tracing the curve of his nose with your gaze. “i got passed up for a promotion today,” you offer. “put me in a real tailspin. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week.”

fry dangling between his pointer finger and thumb, frankie finally returns his eyes to yours. “i’m sorry to hear that. if it makes you feel any better, i got stood up. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week either.”

“guess we’re just a couple of losers then.” when frankie’s eyebrow lifts, you visibly cringe. you grab his forearm and squeeze your eyes shut. “no, wait—that’s not what i meant. i meant that... in the grand scheme of things, we aren’t... i mean...” squinting, you risk a peek at him. “shit, i’m sorry.”

after a moment, frankie smiles—and your heart leaps to your throat. he motions to josh at the other end of the bar. “what drink do you like?” he asks. “we can make it a real date, if you want? you know, to keep up appearances.” 

“a real date?”

he nods. “yeah. i’m not big on fate and shit like that, but... well, maybe i’m big on fate tonight.” his eyes roam your face, and you wonder if he’s drinking you in, memorizing your features. unlike before, his stare is kind, appreciative, reverent. your cheeks heat under his gaze, but you don’t look away.

the corner of your mouth pulls into a grin. “okay.” you smile at josh when he appears. “i like mojitos.” 

“really?” at your nod, frankie’s smile widens. “me too.” 

you reach for a fry in his basket. “must be fate then,” you say with a shrug.

“yeah.” his hand falls to your thigh again, squeezing the flesh around your knee. you look from his hand to his face, and anything you once thought shitty about the day turns rosy with possibility. “must be fate.”

.

.

.

taglist:

@ezramando @frannyzooey @spvce-cowboy @writings-of-a-hufflepuff @sofsoftheloaf @salome-c @aphr0d1te5 @anu-simps @softermina @spideysimpossiblegirl @mummifymecaptain @sleep-tight1 @thewayofthemandalorian @greeneyedblondie44 @darthpapi @salome-c @just-another-fangirl-22 @stevie75

if your handle is crossed out, tumblr would not let me tag your blog.

[drprettyboyspence]

Beach Day

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader 

Summary: Spencer Reid doesn’t understand the appeal of going to the beach so when Garcia plans a BAU outing, he honestly debates whether or not he should go. Turns out, when Y/n is at the beach, Spencer totally understands the appeal after all. 

words: 2.8k 

warnings: seriously none to my knowledge! a lot of fluff :) 

a/n: Since its getting so warm out where I live and I’ve recently been watching season 8 (where Spencer says he doesn’t like the beach), I imagined what it would be like if Spencer went to the beach with his coworker who he has a crush on, I hope you enjoy! :) 

“Come on pretty boy! We’re gonna be late and you know what we’re in for if we keep my babygirl waiting.” Derek Morgan playfully yells at Spencer Reid. It’s ten past 12 p.m. on a hot and sunny August day in Virginia, and the two boys are late for a carpool with the one and only Penelope Garcia. 

“Morgan, why can’t you just go without me, no one will miss me anyway and I hate the beach.” Spencer replies in a frustrated manner. Garcia had been planning this for weeks, after the team had come back from an especially long case she thought what everyone needed was some good old day-at-the-beach fun. Through Spencer’s eyes however, you can’t exactly call an overcrowded area filled with unhygienic birds, sweaty, sunburned people, and sand that covers every inch of your belongings fun. 

“Reid, what’s wrong with the beach? Just bring a book if you really want to, but we really have to get going man.” Derek asks, automatically regretting it when Spencer replies, 

“Sandy food, pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, but mostly the drug-resistant bacteria spread by sea gull feces.” Spencer replies with a straight face, completely unaware that most people aren’t worried about the spread of sea gull poop or anything like that. 

“Alright, kid, I’ll give ya that I guess. Fine, I’ll go without you, but I know one FBI agent in particular who’s gonna be awfully disappointed when you don’t show.” Derek says slyly, sure his evil plan will work. Spencer looks up from his bookshelf where he’s organizing his collection of 15th century literature from his mom, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. 

“Y/n?, Morgan she won’t care if I don’t come to the beach today. Number one, why would she care about me? Number two, who wants to see me at the beach, my body isn’t exactly my most desirable trait.” Derek’s teasing face softens significantly, realizing the more real root of Spencer’s aversion to the beach. 

“Alright kid, you have no reason to be insecure, I’ve heard chirps from a little birdie named Penelope Garcia that our very own Y/n has quite a big crush on you. It doesn’t matter if you have a six pack or not Reid, you have the sweetest heart of anyone I know and the biggest brain as well obviously, I don’t call you pretty boy as a joke, why wouldn’t Y/n like you? Come on, it’ll be fun, I promise.” Spencer feels awkward, not knowing how to react to Derek “lady’s man” Morgan’s motivational speech, he doesn't want to get his hopes up. To be honest, Spencer has liked Y/n since she joined the bureau almost a year ago now, she’s smart, honest, brave, and the most beautiful girl in the world in Spencer’s opinion.

“But Morgan, I don’t own shorts, I don’t have anything I can wear to the beach.” 

“Well lucky for you kid I sorta assumed that, so I brought you a bathing suit, now can we PLEASE get out of here, I’m really not trying to be Penelope’s personal slave for the next 6 months.” Spencer reluctantly takes the bathing suit into the next room and puts it on, hating the way his skinny limbs look in shorts and an FBI tee-shirt, feeling as if he looks like a pre-pubescent boy. Even so, his desire to  spend the day with Y/n persuades him to anxiously pack his bag with a few books he’ll surely need before following Derek out the door. They make it down the stairs and out the door of Reid’s apartment building before they’re greeted by the dulcet tones of Garcia yelling at them through the open window of her car.

“Derek Morgan! You are very lucky you are so handsome and delicious, I’ve been waiting here almost twenty minutes! I almost had to hack the parking ticket database to make sure I wouldn’t be charged, now get in! This is going to be the best day ever!”

“Sorry babygirl” Derek says, getting into the car and pulling Garcia into a greeting hug, “the kid here was feeling anxious, but I told him his little girlfriend would be devastated if he chose not to show up, so lover boy pulled through.” Spencer scoffs and Garcia squeals in joy, loving the idea of the two babies of the team falling in love.

The three of them get out of the car at the beach and Spencer automatically puts his sunglasses on, the sun beating down on him harshly, high in the sky and nearly at its peak of strength for the day.

“Well well well, it’s about time you three! We were expecting you to be no-shows!” Rossi teases from the spot on the beach the team has chosen. Spencer awkwardly tries to walk across the lumps of sand, the grains sinking through the holes in the sides of his signature converse sneakers, already regretting his decision to come here, like he says, he really hates the beach. 

“Spence, you made it! I have to say I’m surprised, how are those sneakers working out for you?” JJ says in a teasing manner as well, knowing that when it comes to the beach, Spencer is one of the least prepared people she knows. 

“Hi Spence, I’m glad you’re here.” Spencer hears from behind him, the shy voice of Y/n automatically brightening his mood. 

“Y/n, I’m glad to be here.” He replies, the rest of the team looking at each other in bewilderment, not believing the sentence having just come out of Spencer’s mouth. Emily and Rossi had brought extra chairs so Spencer sits down and pulls out a book on understanding the theorems of quantum physics, having not read it since he was a teenager. He looks up from reading when he hears the familiar laughing and sounds of his two favorite kids, Jack running up from the ocean with Henry following closely behind, always looking up to his older friend. 

“Hi Jack! Hi Henry! How’s it going guys!” Y/n says, causing Spencer to blush as he briefly imagines Y/n with kids of her own, their own, woah Spencer calm down, don’t go there, quantum physics, focus. 

“Y/n! Will you come swim with us, please! please! please!” Jack says, the boys love Y/n because during the times the team hangs out, she can’t say no to them. 

“Spencer, swim? please?” Henry says, walking over to Spencer and grabbing his hand, cold from being in the ocean. Spencer’s heart warms at the sight of his godson and he finds himself saying yes, not realizing the implications, he now has to take his shirt off and swim with Y/n, what has he done?  

“Really, Spence? You’ll come swim with us! Yay!” Y/n responds, seeming so genuinely excited that Spencer finds himself getting less nervous. He hesitantly peels his shirt off, feeling surprisingly relieved to be rid of the sweaty fabric. He glances at Derek who is smiling at him, raising his eyebrows as if to say You got this player. Jack and Henry are getting impatient so Y/n takes her dress off leaving her in a bikini. Spencer automatically feels very awkward, averting his eyes to avoid blatantly staring at her, overwhelmed with how gorgeous she is, she’s truly the most beautiful girl in the world. 

“Uh, s-should we g-go?” He asks, the rest of the team giggling at his obvious nerves. He remembers once Emily told him his IQ turns to 60 when he sees a pretty girl, maybe she was right because he feels, in this moment, he wouldn’t be able to read a single word of text. Y/n nods and they walk off with the two boys towards the ocean, Spencer hearing the remnants of the rest of the team surely gossiping about the clear tension between them. They reach the ocean and Henry and Jack run into the waves, splashing and tackling each other, getting water on both adults. Spencer shivers despite the hot sun still beating down on his now bare shoulders and back, trying not to think about his chances of developing skin cancer which are surely growing exponentially each moment he stays out in this sun. 

“You cold Spence?” Y/n giggles, grabbing his hand and pulling him further into the water, his legs following even though the idea of being submerged in the cold water is not appealing whatsoever. Or maybe cold water would be better if Y/n doesn’t let go of your hand soon, the devilish side of Spencer’s subconscious whispers. 

“Yes a little, water temperatures around the Washington D.C. area in August average in the low 80s, but I suppose the contrast between the 95 degree day to the cold water causes me to feel cold, funny how that works isn’t it?” Spencer replies, always trying to be more conversational, especially around Y/n, therefore less statistics. 

“Yes Spence, now come on, it’ll be less cold if you just jump in.” Y/n says warmly, always finding Spencer’s statistics charming and adorable. 

“No Y/n I don’t think that’s a- ah!” Spencer yelps as Y/n whispers something to Henry and Jack, causing them to splash him simultaneously, very quickly drenching him completely. Spencer can’t find it in himself to be mad, hearing Y/n hysterically laughing and high-fiving the boys in joy. 

“Alright Y/n, you asked for it.” Spencer says, starting to laugh too despite himself. He somehow finds the courage to pick Y/n up bridal style and walk deeper into the ocean, dropping her in. She’s under the water for just a moment before Spencer begins to worry, statistics of drowning automatically filling his brain. He feels a tug on his leg and falls into the water himself. Y/n and Spencer now both in the water up to their necks, they look at each other and laugh awkwardly. All of a sudden realizing how close they’ve become, they both look away and focus their attention on the two boys still playing in the water, making sure they don’t get too far away. 

“Can we play chicken? Please!” Jack says and Spencer looks at him with a confused look on his face. 

“Chicken?” 

“Come on Spence, this will be so fun!” Y/n says excitedly and once again grabs Spencer’s hand, pulling him toward the boys. Y/n kneels down in the water and motions for Spencer to do so as well, he follows, still confused as to what is about to happen. Henry climbs on Y/n’s back and Jack on Spencer. 

“Okay, now what?” Spencer says, laughing at what the team must be seeing up on the beach. 

“Now, we fight!” Jack says from Spencer’s shoulders. 

Y/n and Spencer walk further into the ocean to more safely allow Henry and Jack to play. They hit each other and Spencer and Y/n find themselves suddenly chest to chest, Spencer trying everything to distract himself from his attraction to the woman in front of him. Finally Henry and Jack seem to get tired, asking if they can go back to their parents. 

“U-uh, so that was f-fun!” Spencer says, trying to break the awkward tension that had followed him and Y/n since they had gotten so close in the water. Chicken, who knew? 

“Yes it was Spence, thank you for coming in the water, I know you don’t like the beach that much.” Y/n says softly, smiling up at the taller man.

They make their way back up to the team, ignoring the knowing looks on their faces. Spencer sits down in his chair once again, suddenly noticing his stomach rumbling. 

“Spencer, do you want to share this peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” Y/n offers. Spencer laughs, how did she know he was hungry at the exact moment he realized it too? He nods and she scoots closer to him to hand him the half. They joke with the rest of the team as well as the boys, trying to separate themselves from the horror they usually find themselves facing together. Spencer knows there is no science to the old phrase time flies when you’re having fun, but he thinks today might be an exception, soon it's getting late, JJ and Hotch opting to take their tired boys home, exhausted from the day in the sun. 

“Spencer, before we leave, can you come with me to get an ice cream?” Y/n asks shyly, Spencer quickly agreeing before the anxiety of being alone with her can hit him once again. They sit together facing the setting sun while eating ice cream, Spencer knows he doesn't react the best to dairy but he can’t help it, he loves dairy, and honestly, he thinks he might love Y/n as well which is a terrifying thought. They sit and watch the sunset in relative silence, but it isn’t an awkward silence, it’s comfortable, Spencer wishes this moment would last forever. Too soon the sun dips below the horizon and their ice cream is long gone. 

“Okay love birds time to go, it’s getting really dark and we should be getting home.” They hear from behind them, both of them flushing in the night air at the nickname and teasing done by Derek. 

“Thanks for today Y/n, it was fun, see you at work on Monday.” Spencer says before following Derek and Penelope to the car, Y/n waving back before following Rossi, having car pooled with him and Emily. The drive home is silent on Spencer’s part, mostly spent looking out the window and ignoring the constant prying from his two nosy friends in the front, eager to know what happened between him and Y/n during the day at the beach. Garcia then drops Derek off at Spencer’s apartment as Derek lives closer to Spencer. 

“Goodnight kid, I hope you had fun today.” Derek says before turning in the direction of his own home. 

“Hey Morgan?” Spencer says quietly, so quietly Derek almost misses it, but turns around nonetheless. 

“Ya kid?” He replies. 

“Thank you for convincing me to go, it was really fun.” 

“No problem pretty boy, anytime” Derek replies smirking before watching Spencer walk into his apartment building. 

That night Spencer is lying in bed in severe pain, his fair skin blistering from the day in the hot sun. He knows he shouldn’t have been so stupid and reckless, allowing himself to become this burned. He was honestly having too much fun to stop and think about it. His phone buzzes and he grimaces, already expecting the worst, a new case, but instead, he sees a text from Y/n. 

“Hey, Spence, are you still awake?” Spencer begins to text back but before he can he sees an incoming call. 

“Uh, hi Y/n! Is everything okay? It’s pretty late do you need-”

“Spencer, I’m fine! Don’t worry, I’m sorry I’m calling you so late. How are you?” Spencer relaxes into the pillows on his bed when he hears Y/n say she’s okay. 

“Aside from the sure to cause skin-cancer, painful sunburn covering my back in blisters, I’m doing great! How about you? Is there something you need or do you just want to talk?” 

“Ouch that must hurt, you should have put sunblock on silly! I actually wanted to ask you something and I figured now is as good a time as ever. So um, Spence, I had a really good time today, and uh- I totally understand if you don’t want to, but would you want to go to dinner with me sometime soon?” Y/n’s heart is racing out of her chest as she anxiously waits for Spencer to answer. 

“Like a date?” 

“Yes- I mean not necessarily it doesn't have to be, we don’t actually have to go out at all if you don't-”

“Y/n, I would love to go out on a date with you.” 

“Really? T-that’s great! Okay I should probably let you get to sleep now, I’m sorry again for calling so late. Goodnight Spencer.” 

“Goodnight Y/n, see you Monday, can’t wait.” Spencer says before Y/n hangs up the phone, he finds himself missing her voice already. He looks at the clock, seeing its already nearly one am, now understanding Y/n’s multiple apologies for the late call. Spencer turns off the light next to his bed, noticing his sunburn doesn’t feel so bad now, ah, the psychology of love. Maybe, Spencer thinks before he closes his eyes, with Y/n by his side, a day at the beach doesn’t sound so bad. 

[jennsmischievousmind]

Coming Up on Bondi Rescue - A Max Ayshford story part 2

It's not my thing to write drabble - I need structure - so here goes part 2 of Coming Up on Bondi Rescue -A Max Ayshford story

Back at Bondi's beach couple days later Kyle's girlfriend, Jendayi joined the team, another teen to watch.

Playing Chicken Fight with the teens in the water, you find yourself carrying Ava on your shoulders, knowing her fierce character you knew Kyle's girlfriend wouldn't win. And you were right, Ava pushed her, sending Kyle under water and Jendayi tumbling into a wave. Fearing she might hit her head on a sandband you quickly grabbed her arm, she took the wave but at least didn't get hurt, no spinal injury today.

Ava got down your shoulders just how she got on, climbing down your waist and thighs. No wonder she was a good cheerleader.

"Oh my, look" she yanked at your hand, "the lifeguards!"

She reacted as any teenager would in front of cute guys. But it wasn't because she liked them, it was because she knew one of them had took interest in you. Max. At least she felt it, as she would say, even though she had seen the guy 5 minutes while you bid goodbye.

After Hazel's parents were found, Ava and Kyle came to fetch you out the lifeguards' tower, eventually meeting Max, Jake and Harries.

You pull your swimdress down a little since you had a ridiculous sunburn high on your thighs from a few days ago while you were skating in shorts.

She looked at you, her devious smile plastered on "Don't ..." you warned, and she run to the buggy. "Troublemaker" you mumbled

"Hi! Can we take pictures? She asked with no fear in the world. Kyle was staying by your side while his girlfriend and his sister started taking pictures with Max and another lifeguard named Jessie.

"Y/N, come!" She called out, then caught your arm almost throwing you into Max's chest.

"Sorry, hi," you cleared your throat, trying to not stare at his chiseled torso.

"How are ya?" He asked, while looking straight ahead at Kyke taking the photo.

"Fine, thks, you?"

"Great now" you both adored a shy smile.

Kyle frowned, handing Ava her phone. He was watching Max like a hawke.

"Hm, I'll be up in the tower in about," he turned around to Jessie grabbing his wrist to see his watch, "an hour. If you, and the kids," he remember they were here, "want to have a lifeguard experience."

"Yeaah, let's do it!" Ava obviously was thrilled

"Please, Y/N!!" Jendayi pleaded, Kyle on the other hand shrugged. You made a note to talk to him later.

"Ok, we'll come up in an hour then" you smiled, he offered the biggest smile you've seen from him so far making your legs wobbly.

"Tower to north rhino, you got a man struggling at the back"

"Copy mate" Jessie answered the talkie and Max ran into action, grabbing the board on the other side and sprinting to the water.

You watched him, barely stopping the drool out of your mouth seeing his ripped back muscles.

Get yourself together you internally slap yourself.

"I'm hungry, can we get back to the towels," Kyle grumbled

Ava crashed into you locking her arm around yours "Who doesn't want a lifeguard experience .." she chuckled

"Ava!" You gaped at her naughty comment.

"Kyle, what's going on with you and the lifeguards"

He brewed on his own in his mother's kitchen.

"He's jealous"

"What? Of who?" Ava didn't reply, munching on her pop-corn instead.

"I'm not jealous! He finally argued, "I .. I don't want Y/N to get hurt by another guy that's all!"

You were speechless. You'd never imagine he would be concern about uour relationship that much. He knew your abusive ex-boyfriend but ...

"I'm so sorry Kyle, that you took it up on you to worry for me, really I would have never thought.." you gave him a tight hug.

"Now I need you to stop worrying for me, okay. Live your teen life, I'll be fine now."

"So no more death stare at the Max guy" Ava spoke uo with her mouth full almost chocking.

"Max?" You wondered "Oh! Max...right. Yeah please don't scare him away." The three of you laughed it off.

You had broken up with your 3 years boyfriend after he once again took his anger upon you, yelling and accusing you of all sorts of things that were going wrong in his life. In the end he was just a loser. Thinking about it now, you never thought you could be one of those woman who doesn't escape the situation sooner. Hell he even didn't want you at the beach because he didn't want guys to look at you.

It had been about 6 month now, you were feeling so much better, and enjoying Bondi Beach as much as you could. He on the other hand was still harassing you from time to time, but you told yourself you won't let what he could say by text or vocal messages, keep you up at night.

You wanted to move on, you had take some time for yourself and meeting Max at the perfect timing, you decided it was time for you to start dating again. Now someone else could keep up at night for better reasons.

An hour later you were up in the lifeguard tower, Max was here, Harrisson a smiley boy, a tall blond named Maxi and Yatesy.

Max opened the door, before you could tell them to behave the teens ran up the stairs to see the view from there, the CCTV and else.

"If they break anything ..., I'm sorry," you told Max who was still by your side on the ground floor.

"It's alright, I'll take responsability, it's worth it"

Taking in his words you were trying to come up with somerhing, but in the corner of your eyes you saw Kyle eyeing the shark alarm. "Don't you even dare!"

Jendayi slapped Kyle's arm, she was keeping him in line, great!

You sight, "see, that's what I'm talking about," Max laughed leading you up.

About 20 minutes later, even though chatting with Max and the other lifeguards was great, you decided it was time to go you didn't want to abuse their hospitality, and they were working in the end.

"Go on!" Harrisson pushed him

"Hm, Y/N!" you stopped at the door "Yeah?"

He bit his lower lips, a thing you noticed he tend to do sometimes "We lock the tower at 6.30, would you ..would you like to go out for a drink tonight?"

Ava squealed behind you, Kyle grabbed her dragging her to the pavement.

The corner of your lips quirked up, "I'd love too." He beamed "meet you here at 6.30 then" you leaned in pressing a hand on his chest, going on your tiptoe to reach his cheek, leaving a gentle peck on his sharp jawline. The smile he had was lovely, never faltering, making you melt.

Taking a few steps to the main road you heard a sudden ruckus from the lifeguard tower, the door was still open, whooping with laughter erupting from the place, you chuckled to yourself. Ava talked about it all night during diner with their mom. She was almost more excited than you.

[wherearemyglassesbro]

Alternative careers for the Allies:

I see a lot of the same careers picked for them (baker, librarian, etc) so I’m gonna go out on a limb, maybe even into...OOC territory :0 we will see where this journey leads us

Alfred: A surfing instructor! Alfred is kind and adventurous and though he can be silly he is also strong. He values the saftey of his students very much!! He’s excited to show them the wonders of surfong and just how fun it is to be out on the waves! He is always so proud of them when they surf their first big wave on their own! He’s whooping and hollering and cheering them on from the beach :D He drives a bright blue jeep and when his students see him out and about they all honk at him and he thinks it’s hilarious :D He’s a guest judge at a lot of small surf competitions and he’s also a fantastic announcer too!! He just!! Loves surfing! Seeing kids love it too makes him beyond happy!

Ivan: Ivan is a tv host with his own renovation show stationed in Hawaii. He takes small, run down homes and turns them into livable spaces with a tropical feel. Ivan built up his reputation bakc home in Russia and moved to the US. From there he signed deals with tv companies and bam! He got a show. He has always wanted to live on a warm island somewhere and now he gets to share his passion for renovation with thousands of viewers! He offers tips for DIYs throughout his show and he does his best to bring Hawaiian culture into the homes he builds/fixes. He incorporates all sorts of environmentally friendly fixtures and nature inspired patterns all over! And the best part? He’s there to walk families through the space and shake their hands when they buy it! Even though Ivan is huge and intimidating, in his show he’s seen in khaki shorts, Hawaiian shirts, sandals and socks most of the time. Also, can’t forget a constant sunburn and an intense tan line from his watch on his wrist lmao

Francis: A ballet teacher! Fran is kind but he can be harsh with his words on occasion. He never wants to make his dancers feel terrible about themselves the way other instructors do but when he’s frustrated he may sling around insults “Are you in kindergarten? Because only kindergarteners would point their foot like that! It’s pathetic! I’ve taught you better in the past six years, havent I?” When he teaches, he doesn’t just stand to the side and yell, he performs the motions and stretches with his students! If they’re gonna put this much work into his class then he should too. His students are very aware of his expectations and when they meet those expectations he showers them with compliments! He’s so proud of his dancers, each and every one. They can all easily see his smiling face in the crowd when they’re on stage! And he visits his graduated students when they’re on bigger stages :’)

Yao: Interior designer :0 Yao has extravagant tastes! I can see him as an interior designer for the rich $$$ He keeps what they like in mind and he’ll carefully pick out each and every piece of furniture based on his clients personalities and favorite colors. If they have a pet he’ll add special touches like a gold bird perch or a suede dog bed ;) While he makes sure everything is nice, he’ll pick certain expensive things on purpose just cause! Its his job but sometimes, watching rich people blow their money on silly things is funny to him. His own home is furnished nicely but not too crazy. His pride and joy is his livingroom where his fish tank is :) When a client has a fish tank??? He won’t shut up about it and he’ll make extra sure to emphasize that fish tank! He’ll put good accents in there (safe for the fish of course) and bling out the walls around the fish tank to make other people look at it! He just...loves fish a lot. He incorporates fish art and imagery into a lot of the homes he works in/on

Arthur: uh oh...Artie. Art is naturally sarcastic so what could be a better job for him than a food critic? He couldn’t cook a chicken tender to save his life but he has a great palette. He’ll pick apart dishes and leave scathing reviews and people listen!! Cause he’s persuasive, he writes very well and he articulates his points perfectly. It’s also rather funny when he writes Gordon Ramsay style insults about the food if it’s bad lol. He isn’t just mean though, before he leaves any restaurant he offers genuine advice. He’ll help the owners and cooks figure out what went wrong and how they can do better in the future! He’s a jerk but he isn’t totally evil! He wants to see restraunts succeed!!! He often revisits places he hated just so he can see if they improved!

Matthew: Mattie...is a shoe maker! Not just any kind of shoes, oh no!! He makes high quality hiking boots and other kinds of work boots. He’s a working man and he sees the importance of having food footwear to keep you going throughout the day. His boots are all waterproof, thick soled, warm interior, and many have metal inserts in the toes. If you’re working with machinery, metal toed shoes may just save your toes one day and Matt gets that! He’s made a ton of money off of his boots! All of that money’s going into his big ol’ cabin where he hopes that one day he’ll get to raise a family in :’) He’s in commercials for his boots too so people recognize him...which is a little embarrassing. He’s lowkey rich but he wants to live like a normal guy yknow? He doesn’t think he’s anything special, he’s just a guy who makes affordable boots for workers. Please don’t take pictures...Look away!! He’s just getting groceries like a normal guy! Nothing to see here! Just normal guy business!!

[normalg-irl]

When People Ask Me What I’m Doing After Graduation This Is What I’ll Say | May 3, 2019

So, I don’t have a job lined up for after graduation. I’m also not volunteering with the JVC or Americorps like some of my friends who enjoy helping people. I don’t have an internship, and I’m not traveling anywhere. I actually have no idea what I want to do? Like as a career, but also … in life? So I’ve decided to construct an honest answer to provide to anyone who asks me what I’m doing after graduation. If you, too, do not have a “plan” for post-grad, you are welcome to join me in the glorious city of Hartford, Connecticut, where these 5 post-grad steps will be carried out.

Step 1: Watch Game of Thrones.

Never having seen Game of Thrones makes me feel almost as shitty as never having seen any of the Harry Potter movies (never mind never having read the books). This is the first time I’m admitting that. I usually just play along like,

“I would be in Gryffindor, no doubt. My favorite spell is Leviosa. JK Rowling is honestly a legend.”

I’m embarrassed to confess how uncultured I am. But, with GoT, it’s way too complicated. You can’t just skim the surface like,

“Winter is coming. Jon Snow is my favorite character. Yeah, I’m not bothered by the incest either.”

I’m going to take the first three weeks immediately after graduation to binge GoT and get caught up to speed for the sake of the culture. And also for my own mental health because I’ve been feeling excluded and anxious every time Khaleesi is brought up around me. She sounds like a legend, almost more so than JK Rowling.

Step 2: Exercise lightly.

After the three weeks of binging Game of Thrones I’ll probably try and get my body looking right. No one tells you that going to Punta Cana for spring break turns you into a drinking-machine-party-fiend. The all-inclusive trip destroys all tendencies of eating vegetables and run-walking on the treadmill. For the latter portion of senior year all I’ve known, and all I’ve wanted to know, are Miami Vices (pina coladas and strawberry daiquiris mixed for the ignorant lames), permanent sunburns and foggy conversations with the same people over and over again.

So, with that, health and fitness has plummeted drastically on the list of priorities. Before entering the “real world” I’ll need to burn off all the fried chicken I swallowed whole while floating around in the Punta Cana resort pool. Step 2 is necessary in order to bury that part of the identity and embrace a classier manifestation of self.

Step 3: My high school friends and I become so bored that we go get frozen yogurt and have a really awkward encounter with someone random from our past.

Step 3 can be weaseled in at any point in the post-grad plan. Preferably I will complete step 3 multiple times, almost on a weekly basis. I envision a lot of days playing out like this:

11:00AM: Wake up.

11:04AM: Enter an “Instagram k hole” (This is a term I just learned. It’s when you get so deep into Instagram it feels kind of like you did too much Ketamine, and you’re seriously f*cked up).

12:10PM: Mom is getting home, so I quickly stage a job application workshop in the kitchen.

12:30PM: Mom really wants me to try harder at applying for jobs, I tell her I will.

12:45PM - 4:20PM: *Insert step 1 or step 2 here, depending on what level you’ve reached of the plan.* So this block of time can be filled with either culture binging, or getting the body right.

4:20PM: By this time culture = binged, or body = right. Both great outcomes. Send a text in the group chat, everyone’s down to hang, obv. No one has a job.

7:30PM: Not sure how those three hours were spent. Potentially was sucked into another k hole, but this time mind was completely erased.

8:25PM: Group unites at the friend’s house who has the most chill parents.

8:30PM - 9:50PM: Vaping, light gossip, and brief but intense Instagram k holes are accompanied by a random TV show playing in the background like Catfish or anything on TLC.

10:00PM: One friend suggests getting frozen yogurt. It’s the best idea she’s had in years.

10:15PM: Arrive at Sweet Frog dizzy off the vape. The smell inside is extremely nauseating. Someone might pass out in Sweet Frog.

10:16PM: Everyone fills up their cups with a mixture of flavors. One friend just gets a ton of those little balls with juice inside of them. She’s a psychopath.

10:19PM: I enter a frozen yogurt k hole. Halfway through the fro-yo I realize I do not like fro-yo. But then all of a sudden my cup is empty.

10:23PM: The awkward encounter the entire group has been anticipating finally happens. The middle school basketball coach enters Sweet Frog with his new girlfriend. He has no idea how old we are. He can’t even make a guess. He is intoxicated in Sweet Frog. He kisses us on the cheeks. His girlfriend is really pretty.

10:41PM: I leave Sweet Frog feeling awkward and sick. But it was something I had to do. And it’s something you have to do. It’s only right.

Step 4:  Shock my parents’ friends when I say, “I have no idea what I want to do” in the Big Y parking lot.

After the Sweet Frog interactions, awkward encounters will be nothing but a thang. I expect them to spice up the depressing post-grad days, and will probably become a favored activity.

So when my Mom asks me to go to Big Y to get a watermelon (she likes to give me random tasks), I’ll be kind of excited to go.

When I see Mrs. Miller in the parking lot, I won’t pretend not to see her. She asks me what I’m up to, what my “plan” is, and when I tell her about binging GoT and going to Sweet Frog and working out every few days, her face grows concerned and I am hoping she talks about my excellent plan with the other moms. I just want to be talked about, honestly.

I help Mrs. Miller put her groceries in her minivan so she thinks I’m still a good person even if I have no ambition.

“Good luck, sweetie.”

She nods empathetically from her minivan window as I stand alone in my pajamas in the Big Y parking lot carrying a watermelon.

Step 5: Read a life-changing book at the town pool.

I haven’t read a book in years. Reflecting on my life, I may never have actually finished a full novel. What if I’m in a job interview and the interviewer asks me what my favorite book is? I need to have something truthful and profound to say. The Fault in Our Stars isn’t going to cut it. I could maybe swing saying that the Game of Thrones series is my favorite, because I’m pretty sure they were books before a TV show? But that feels like it’d be super transparent at this point.

I can’t go into an intellectual discussion with some alternative, experimental book all confident like, “Have you read The Girl with the Chastity Belt’s Lullaby? It’s my favorite.”

No, you need something absolutely classic like To Kill a Mockingbird or Don Quixote or Fifty Shades of Grey. I’ll probably pick up War and Peace and call it a day. Been meaning to read that one. And then off to the pool I go.

I see myself spending a super relaxing time by the pool with my book. There are no annoying kids splashing around the day I decide to go and conquer my book. It’ll be closed off for academics on their sabbaticals just like me who want to peacefully read and feed their brains.

As I flip around War and Peace, I see a ton of pages, and a ton of words I don’t know. I suck at reading. I don’t know how to read. I can read the words, but the whole time my mind is thinking about potential boyfriends and potential parties and potential conversations. All which might never happen.

War and Peace spirals me into an anxiety k hole, which I think is actually just an anxiety attack, and I storm out of the pool without even buying french fries from the snack bar.

That’s as far as I’m going to make it into step 5.  

And there we have it my friends. Graduating without a job isn’t that scary if you embrace my perfect five-step post-graduation plan. Because, believe me, once you do it all - once you’ve watched eight seasons of Game of Thrones, hit Sweet Frog a couple hundred times, toned a few muscles, run into lots of moms, and “read” War and Peace … you will be ready to hightail it back to NYC - and maybe even land a job.

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

Published by The Rival at Fordham University on May 3, 2019

[cialbi]

Summertime Happy Daze - Chapter Two

Summary: Working in a small, local grocery store down by the shore has its perks; good pay, free food and seven handsome coworkers. Your first day back after two years abroad your happy summer days have just begun. 

Genre: Slice of Life, Friendship, Romance (fluff), Hurt and Comfort, AU

Pairings: BTS ot7 x Reader

Warnings: Language, Panic Attack, Flashbacks 

Word Count: 7730

Based on TRUE Daily Events

⤎Previous 

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

What was only minutes felt like hours as the cold began to slice through your skin. An air of panic had built as you and Yoongi stared, bug-eyed, at each other. The broken handle seemed to mock you as it laid on the ground, it's frozen metal face like a bad joke, and no one was laughing.

"Oh shit, Yoongi. What do we do?" You asked, breath shaky.

Yoongi swallowed, wetting his lips with his tongue. He thought for a moment before bending down to pick up the handle and then attempted to reattach it to the gaping hole from where it was once fixed. The handle gave a little cry of resistance and then fell back down to the ground with a 'clunk.' Well, so much for that.

"Fuck. Hold on." He said and picked the handle back up. When his second attempt failed, Yoongi inspected the face bore and cursed. "Dammit. I think a piece is missing."

"Shit, seriously?" Your eyes blew wide.

Yoongi nodded. "I think so... It should be around here somewhere."

Instantly, the two of you were on your hands and knees, searching for a piece that would belong to a door, though what that looked like neither of you knew. Your kneecaps ached against the freezing floor and a knot in your throat formed when you were coming up short-handed. You looked behind boxes, stretched hands beneath shelves and overturned every crate you could see, but there was no sign of the missing piece anywhere.

"Did you find anything?" You turned to look at Yoongi who had just finished setting a bucket of raw chicken thighs down.

"No." He shook his head in defeat.

"Fuck."

You scraped a hand through your hair and shivered. Cold pricked against your skin and almost every hair on your body was erect as your nose began to drip. The temperature seemed to drop by the second, the gravity of the situation lodging like a pit in your stomach. What do we do? Shit. What do we do? It's getting so cold I can barely feel my hands. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

Yoongi, picking up on your struggle, placed a hand on your shoulder in reassurance. "Let's stay calm ok? We'll call out to Namjoon and Tae and get some help from the other side."

You nodded with a quaking lip.

The two of you pounded on the door and yelled in hopes of catching the attention of your two other coworkers, praying to God that they were nearby and not in the midst of helping customers.

"Namjoon! Taehyung!"

You heard a curious murmur that progressively grew louder as the two boys approached. You could practically see Namjoon's scrunched brow, wondering what could possibly be going on from inside the walk-in. There was a jostling sound from the other side, then a few moments of silence passed followed by a rap on the door.

"Are you guys ok?" It was Taehyung who answered first.

"What happened?" Namjoon's voice followed.

Yoongi let out a breath of relief, little cotton puffs haloing his lips from the cold air. "The door handle fell off and we're trapped inside."

"Shit." Namjoon groaned. "I thought I told you guys to be careful!" His voice was scolding, but there was a clear underlying tone of worry laced in his words.

Yoongi's shoulders flattened. "Now's not the time for a lecture, Joon."

You heard the butcher sigh heavily, knowing he was trying his best to think logically amidst this bad circumstance. "Ok, ok, you're right. I'll go get Jin."

"Hyung, I'll stay here with them!" Taehyung said after him.

"Hurry! It's cold as fuck in here!"

As you heard Namjoon's retreating footsteps, you shifted your attention to Yoongi, a clear look of fear swimming in your eyes. Yoongi smiled meekly and grabbed your arms, rubbing them with the best encouragement he could offer.

"Hey, don't worry. Namjoon and Jin will figure out what to do."

You sniffed, looking around the giant fridge.

The walk-in wasn't tiny, but it was also not very big. The door was the type that sealed shut without a crack as to maintain the temperature, keeping the chilled air from escaping out into the deli. Fluorescent lights beamed off the icy white walls and made you feel like you were surrounded by flashing paparazzi cameras. You gulped, dizzy.

You didn't bode well in enclosed spaces, especially enclosed spaces below thirty degrees, and you could feel your claustrophobia creep up your nerves. The walls felt like they were inching closer with every breath you took and your vision became narrowed as the worst case scenarios flooded your mind. You were starting to get that lightheaded, too-warm feeling that meant you were either going to hurl or fall down soon.

What if they can't figure out what to do? What if we're trapped in here for hours? What if Namjoon and Jin don't make it here in time? Shit, we're gonna freeze.

Not being able to stand any longer, you sank down to the floor and pulled your legs into yourself for comfort. Oh no. It's happening. You thought, the familiar sensation of a panic attack draped around you like a wet blanket.

Yoongi crouched down beside you with the barest of touch on the small of your back. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"I uh... sorry, I just..." You trailed, not knowing how to put it in words.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you inhaled a breath. The rise and fall of your chest stung with every constriction of your lungs and pools of moisture trilled down your back. Yoongi frowned.

"What is it?"

You shook your head. The panic only intensified as your leg began to convulse with jittery thrusts and you swallowed thickly. Your breathing shallowed.

"It's nothing. T-this happens sometimes... I get nervous... " You bit back your words feeling extremely embarrassed for this to be happening in front of Yoongi of all people. Hurling definitely felt like the possible outcome.

"What happens? Tell me what's going on."

"Really.. it's nothing." You started, your body hot and freezing at the same time.

"It doesn't look like nothing to me." Yoongi eyed you with concern.

You'd be damned if you were going to admit you were having a panic attack, so you shook your head again and shoved your head between your knees. You wished Yoongi would just back off and let anxious dogs lie, but that smart-ass, god-bless-his-soul of a man refused to relent.

"Does your tummy hurt?" He asked.

Fuck yes your tummy fucking hurt. And your heart, and your brain, and goddammit it's cold. Why does Jin keep the walk-in so motherfucking cold? Part of you wanted to tell him to stop asking questions and let you be, but words just weren't finding you.

As if your silence was an answer, it finally occurred to Yoongi what was happening. He pulled back a little bit.

"Oh..." His eyes widened. "Oh." Yoongi's expression mixed with emotions, contemplating what to do. "Hey Y/N. Is it ok if I touch you now?"

Excuse me, what?  Not knowing how to answer, you remained quiet.

"Ok." Yoongi said carefully. "I'm going to touch you now."

After a moment, you felt yourself being pulled forward as he cradled you against his chest. You could hear the gentle drum of his heartbeat and his body felt warm, though he was clearly as cold as you were by the way he shivered.

"Shh. It's gonna be ok Y/N." He whispered, his breath feverish against the shell of your ear.

"Hyung, what's happening?" Taehyung's voice called from the deli.

Yoongi's lips dipped, eyebrows furrowed in consideration. "I think..." He paused, thinking about his words. "Y/N's tummy hurts." He said, rubbing circles on your back. Something told you he knew exactly what was happening by how he'd asked permission to touch you, and you were more than grateful that he had respected your confidentiality.

"Is she ok?" Taehyung paused. "Sorry. Stupid question. Y/N it's going to be fine, I promise. We're going to figure this out."

From the other side, the raven-haired boy was seated on the ground, his face smushed against the metal door as he tried to hear what was proceeding. Worried was an understatement.

"Dammit. Where are they?" Taehyung bit his lip and looked back towards the front of the deli.

Inside the walk-in, Yoongi patted your back, using a soothing tempo that he hoped would calm you. Running a hand through your hair, he sighed. He understood that there was very little he could say to comfort you, so he decided to walk you through the anxiety instead.

"Hey. Y/N. Let's talk about something." He tried.

You sniffed. "A-about what?"

Yoongi shrugged. "I don't know, what do you want to talk about?"

"U-um..." You had trouble thinking of a topic, so you said "The s-store seems like it's g-going well." Great conversation starter. You sneezed.

Yoongi laughed. "Does it?" He rested his chin on your head. "I'm not sure. The store's been lonely without you."

"W-what?" You stuttered, wondering if you had heard correctly. You hadn't realized they were clenched shut until your eyes snapped open at his confession.

Yoongi's voice was gentle as he looked over to an assembly of chicken barrels, cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment. "Everyone's missed you so much, you know? Jin, Jimin and the others. Not me, obviously." You laughed a little at that, making Yoongi smirk. "It's uh... not the same without you. Quiet." Yoongi wanted to walk off a cliff at how cheesy he sounded. "Hey. Remember that time when Hoseok got so sunburned that he could barely move? He whined about using sunblock like a baby and we all thought he was crazy. He looked like a walking hotdog by the end of the day--well deserved might I add--but you made sure he applied plenty of aloe."

"He's so s-stupid sometimes." You grinned against your arm.

"Stupid. But means well." He paused. "I think."  

"And Namjoon b-burned all the barbecue." You muttered.

"That's right." He chuckled lowly. "And then you spent hours showing him how to grill the food correctly."

"HE STILL BURNED EVERYTHING THOUGH!" Taehyung yelled from behind the door.

Another smile tugged at your lips as you could recall that afternoon very clearly. You could smell the salt of the ocean and how the warmth of the sticky sun greased your bare skin. The horizon had been an intoxicating shade of pink that day and the sounds of seagulls a pleasant melody amongst the cloudless sky. You could see the boys in their swimming trunks, splashing around in the water like puppies and the whoops of joy they had expressed as they ran down the shoreline in a flurry of sand and seashells. The taste of Namjoon's poor cooking ghosted your tongue as you brought up the image of everyone scraping charred pieces of meat and veggies with their fingers. The way Hoseok looked like a lobster after refusing to properly administer sunscreen played through your mind and you thought of later that evening when you had all packed up to go home.

"Aish. How did this happen?" Hoseok had whined, poking at his seared skin gingerly.

"We told you to reapply after swimming hyung." Jungkook had noted as he folded up the beach umbrella.

"But the bottle said waterproof!"

A little laugh escaped your lips. "So stupid..."

You felt Yoongi shift as he smiled against your hair. "Yeah. We really are. Stupid."

You felt your heart rate slow to a soft pitter-pat, and your clammy hands loosened their grasp from around Yoongi's hoodie, tangled nerves beginning to unravel. The nauseousness dispersed from your stomach, your jelly-like limbs regaining their strength. It took a minute for your mind to clear. Then abruptly, you pulled away in sheer mortification. Only one day back and you're already sobbing into a man's sweatshirt. What the actual fuck.

Fucking get yourself together you psycho! "I'm sorry." You mumbled.

Yoongi leant back slightly and smiled, unbothered. "Don't be."

Minutes flew by as you sat together in silence. Yoongi remained crouched by your side on the ground, watching you closely but you refused to meet his gaze. Blood rushed to your face as you realized you must have seemed incredibly insane just moments ago. Any confidence you had regained this morning shattered, and you felt your pride fly out the window and sail away into the distance.

You opened and closed your mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but words were lost to you.

From outside, a murmur of voices had clustered around the door. It sounded like Taehyung was talking to someone by the way his husky voice shifted in intervals. Your ears perked as the new voices of Jimin and Hoseok became apparent and you could hear Namjoon saying something in response, his tone flat but serious. Finally, Jin spoke.

"I don't care what it is, do whatever it takes to get them out. Stat."

Your shoulders slumped in relief at the sound of your boss's fierce, silky voice.

Yoongi touched your face with his fingers, the cool silver of his rings steamed against your blushing cheeks. "You see?" He said. "They're gonna do everything they can to make sure we get outta here."

You shivered and then sneezed. Shuddering, you hugged yourself tighter. Yoongi clucked his tongue and took off his hoodie then forced it over your head, helping your trembling arms through the respective sockets. Your own clothes had been baggy to begin with, but his sweatshirt was far bigger and encompassed you in a toasty blanket of heat that thawed your frozen bones. Your blush deepened, though you gripped the sleeves with sunken nails and steeped in the warmth and smell of mint. You noticed underneath he only had on a white, skin-hugging t-shirt that accentuated his lean muscles–a sight you would have normally found delicious if it weren't for your concern about his well-being.

"Aren't you gonna freeze?" You asked.

Yoongi just shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

You began to protest, but he silenced you with a finger as if to say 'don't start with me' so you nodded and pulled your knees to your chest.

"Thank you."

"Mmhmm."

As time ticked by with quiet, you found yourself wondering. Coming down off your anxiety-ridden high, you realized how flawlessly Yoongi had executed his actions and you began to wonder to yourself how he'd known exactly what to do instead of flying off to a corner of ignorance and aversion. Physical contact, consoling, grounding. The three steps of aiding a person rooted in an episode of panic. The three steps Yoongi had demonstrated with ease and precision.

"Hey Yoongi." You piped up, fiddling with your nail beds as you stared at your feet. "I have a question."

"Shoot."

You picked at a hangnail, thinking how to phrase your question. "Um... how did you know what to do?"

Yoongi fixed you with a perplexed look. "Know how to do what?"

You shrugged smalley, shrinking back into yourself, a twinge of shame poked at your gut. "You know... how to calm me down?"

"Oh." He considered his response for a second. You lifted your head when he didn't say anything and your eyes were met with an intense stare as he replied earnestly. "I have some experience."

You blinked at him. That was an answer you didn't expect.

What does he mean by 'experience?' You briefly speculated. Then it hit you, and suddenly you didn't need him to explain. Oh.

"Yoongi, I-"

'VROOOOOOOOOO–' A loud noise blasted from outside the door, the deafening blare of an electric bolt-screw interrupting your sentence. You and Yoongi exchanged looks of confusion as it hummed boisterously from the other side of the walk-in door. You covered your ears. It went on for a good five minutes before subsiding into stillness and you eyed the door skeptically as nothing happened. Then suddenly, the metal fortress jerked back with a thump and the glare of sunshine poured through the open void in a stream of whites and golds.

Simultaneously, you both stood up, your bodies stiff from the frosty air and muscles cracking under the pressure of sitting for so long on the glacial floor. You stepped out towards the light and blinked, adjusting your vision. Without warning, a ball of blonde hair catapulted into your arms and hugged you tightly as if you were a lost lover, finally reunited. The smell of flowers and soap wafted through your nose and baby-pink cashmere cloaked you like a curtain. It was Jimin.

"I was so worried! Are you ok? Oh my gosh you're so cold!" The boy pulled out from his embrace and rubbed his hands up and down your shoulders in attempts to warm you.

A wide smile spread across your lips. You'd never been so happy to see his pretty face.

"Hey Jiminnie. I'm ok." You said, pinching his cheeks. You breathed deeply, soaking up the new found heat of the deli.

Jimin let his arms fall, his eyes held yours with a worried expression. "You're blue."

You laughed softly. "Am I? Well it is cold in there. I don't recommend getting trapped inside, it's not fun."

Jimin made a face. "I'm just glad you're alright. If it weren't for Jungkook and Namjoon hyung, well... I don't want to imagine what could have happened."

You noticed off to the side, Jungkook and Namjoon busy heaving the giant door away from the walk-in, having unbolted its hinges in order to set you free. Their muscles flexed like gods as they moved it with incredible power, placing it to rest against the wooden counter of the sandwich block. You shot them a grateful look, which they returned with relieved smiles.

"Oh you poor thing!" Hoseok swooped through the room with a red fleece blanket that he then draped around your shoulders. His deep brown eyes twinkled with fret and his lips were pulled into a frown of concern. "Here you go, sweetheart. Do you want some tea?"

You shook your head. To be honest, tea sounded nice, but you didn't want him to go through the trouble. Just the sight of his face was enough to toast your wintry insides. "No, thank you."

"Do you need anything else? Some food? A heating pad? I can get you some aspirin if you'd like. I know I have some here somewhere..." The gardener fussed, reminding you of a clucking mother.

"No. I'm ok. I promise."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You'd tell me if you weren't sure, right?"

"Yes Hobi!" You laughed, touched by his maternal affection.

Hoseok squinted, not quite believing you. "Alright..."

Then suddenly, two sets of arms wrapped around you from each side as Taehyung and Jungkook gathered you up in a double hug. The strength of their biceps squeezing your waist had you gasping for air and you squirmed for release, but neither of them let up as they buried their noses in your frigid hair.

"Guys. Can't. Breathe." You squeaked.

"Sorry Y/N." Jungkook said, clearly not sorry.

"We've captured you, and we're not letting go!" Taehyung cheered.

"Seriously guys, air!"

"Yah! Don't crowed her!" The squawking voice of Jin cut through the room.

You craned your neck to see the shopkeeper, his perfect hair messy and his cheeks painted pink as your eyes met. He was standing behind the others with his arms folded firmly over his aproned chest. You could tell he was trying to look calm, but there was the distinct hint of worry slapped across his features.

"You know, I was in there too." Yoongi rolled his onyx eyes as he brushed past the flock of bodies to lean against the butcher's block. He palmed his arms to create circulation and sniffed his cherry nose to keep it from running.

Jimin dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Your heart is already frozen solid, hyung."

"You didn't do anything to her in there did you?" Jungkook raised a brow, lip turned up in jest.

Hoseok gasped. "The quiet ones are always the ones to look out for!"

Even Namjoon stiffened, throwing daggers at Yoongi's sea-green head.

Yoongi groaned, rubbing at his oncoming headache.

You smiled to yourself. If only they knew.

Taehyung looked down at you, a sudden serious expression fresh on his face. "Are you really ok?"

You sighed. Yoongi may have said your tummy hurt, but Taehyung wasn't stupid. Not that stupid at least. "I'm fine Tae. I promise." You said, ignoring the curious glances that shifted between you and Taehyung.

He furrowed his brows and made a face that said he wanted to say more, but, acknowledging your resistance, he backed off with a nod.

"Is everything ok?"

"What's going on, I can't see."

"I think someone got trapped inside the freezer."

"Oh no. That's terrible."

An ocean of hushed whispers pricked your ears and you turned to look up front at a small hub of customers who had gathered to witness the whole incident. Looks of concern mixed with intrigue at the promise of drama had you avert your gaze to the tiled floor of the deli. You felt watched. With all those wandering eyes and the boys fussing over you like a lost puppy, you suddenly felt very self-conscious and very embarrassed that you had been the cause of such a scene. Because leave it to you to walk straight into a cheesy twenty-first century drama.

Jin cleared his throat. Taehyung and Jungkook released you from their strongholds as the shopkeeper approached you with a gentle smile. He touched your arm softly and you shivered, though you were no longer cold. With eyes that could melt buckets of ice, he brushed a stray lock away from your face.

"Hey there." He said.

You smiled weakly. "Hi."

"Some first day back, eh?"

You laughed, faltering. "You're telling me."

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The moon was barely a sphere in the sky, peering from behind the clouds like a game of peek-a-boo as the sun took its final call for the day. The streets bathed in amber, glowed amidst the black of the paved road and lent a dazzling ray of evening light. It was quiet, save for the churn of automobile tires as they sped down the road in a glide of red taillights. The weather had shifted considerably, the greasy summer heat lessened to a sizzle and cool sails of air blew by reliably.

The streets were massive, like a highway, only less traffic, and the sidewalks merged so that the only barrier of protection they offered were painted white lines that stretched along the ground and out into the distance. You were strolling down the flat streets of the main boulevard, hands tucked into the pouch of Yoongi's hoodie, clocked out and work finished for the evening.

After recovering from the events back at Kim's Market, the day had pretty much returned to normal. Well, as normal as a day at Kim's could get. There had been no trouble reattaching the door to the walk-in, though there was still the matter of the broken handle, so Jin had decided that until everything was completely safe, the fridge was off limits. It was a relief that the walk-in itself still worked, otherwise the perishables inside would spoil. However, no one wanted to risk a repeat of what had happened so the shopkeeper had roped it off with some yellow caution tape and instructed Jungkook to fix the handle in the morning.

From beside you, Yoongi stretched, his muscles a ripple of pent up knots and a little sliver of stomach exposed itself from underneath his white t-shirt. The seafoam-green of his hair glittered a bright lime color against the setting sun and his handsome features lulled in a peaceful trance as he looked straight ahead. A curtain of awkward tension drifted between you two as you walked together in silence.

When you had gathered up your belongings from your locker, Yoongi had approached you with an offer to walk you home, an offer you had hesitated to take. You had told him your parent's house was only about ten minutes away by foot and that there was really no need, but he had insisted. And you, not wanting to be rude, accepted. So here you were, walking side by side and not a word exchanged as the hum of cars raced by.

Minutes dragged along painfully. You fiddled with your keys, tracing the outline of your cat-shaped key-fob to soothe your nerves. The weight of the anxiety attack hung on your neck and you found yourself without a word to say. You didn't know what to say, really. Shame was always something you had trouble vocalizing and 'sorry' seemed like much too much of an understatement by this point.

You glanced at Yoongi. Not seeming to mind the quiet, the man's eyes were fixed to the ground, the length of his lashes casted shadows beautifully amongst his sculpted cheekbones and his poreless skin glistened gold resembling the scales of a koi fish. Your lips parted in awe. He looked serene, like a portrait from a mid-centuries painting.

Having registered your stare, Yoongi lifted his head and turned to meet your eyes, their onyx shade of black pooled in reflected light.

"What?" He raised a brow.

You blushed, quickly throwing your gaze back in front of you. "N-nothing."

At 11th Street and Beachfront, you gestured for Yoongi to follow you around the corner. The road was open; rows of pretty, decorated beach houses lined the sides with cars parked out front of their porches or tucked away safely in driveways. The first house on the corner was huge, buried in wildlife and lawn chairs and an old tire swing hung from the tree branch of a large oak, its worn yellow twine caked with sap. A group of young children were gathered around it, crying in delight as they took turns pushing and swinging. One of the kids, a small mousy girl in a pink tank top, waved at you with a toothy grin. You smiled and waved back.

Here, the sun came slantwise through the trees across the road and made long gold stripes of light along the pavement. You walked along one of the gold stripes, watching your incredibly tall shadow walking before you. You heard Yoongi snort and you blushed, realizing you must have looked childish, like one of those kids playing back at the tire swing.

Your own house resided towards the end of the road, just by the narrow, sandy pathway that led out to the beach. Three houses down to be exact. It had been a long time since any of the boys had been to your parent's house and Yoongi's presence brought up the memory of your birthday when you had invited them over to celebrate. You remembered playing man hunt that night–a game you loved to play down at the shore, since the neighborhood was relatively safe and it offered many great hiding places amongst the bushes and trees. And since it had been your birthday, you had been tasked with tracking down your coworkers whilst guarding a lone pepsi can that sat in the middle of your driveway. Your eyes darted across your surroundings, recalling almost all their hiding spots with ease. Because on top of being an amazing sandwich maker, you were also a master at manhunt.

Jin had been the first to be found. The shopkeeper had been hiding behind a hoard of garbage bins, head tucked into his knees and hands folded over his head in a crouching fetal-position.

"Jin! I see you!" You had called and then raced after him as he attempted to flee.

"Seeing isn't enough! You gotta catch me first!" He had called back, speeding down the street in a blur of white. And you did. Catch him, that is.

Jungkook and Taehyung had been found next. The youngest boys thought they'd been smart by posing as friends on someone else's porch, but they had been too still and too quiet for a couple of teenagers on a Saturday night.

"Taehyung! Jungkook!"

"Oh shit!" Taehyung had faltered as you placed a hand on his shoulder and tagged him out.

"I told you we shoulda hid in the garden." Jungkook mumbled, pouting.

Jimin had been squatting in the thick of a bush, shielded by dark leaves and twisting prongs. You had had difficulty finding him amidst their shaded protection, but the glint of his corn colored hair had been a dead giveaway under the moon's radiant glare.

"Jimin!" You had yelled out, then paused, noticing he had been having trouble untangling himself. "You ok?"

"Yeah... just... gotta...shit, I can't move. Ok. You got me." He frowned in defeat.

You had laughed as you helped pull the poor boy out from the tumble of gnarly branches.

Namjoon and Yoongi had been the last to be found. The two older males had sought cover from beneath your patio, chests pressed tightly into the dirt. You may have never discovered them if it weren't for Namjoon who had freaked when a garden snake slithered over his burly hands. He had howled so loud you almost thought he'd been seriously wounded or something.

"Shut up! She's gonna find us!" Yoongi had knocked him over the head and shushed him but it had been too late. Once their hiding spot had been revealed, the two boys had dashed in opposite directions in attempts to throw you off, but Namjoon had tripped over his own feet and Yoongi--once again, god-bless him--had stopped running in order to help him up.

"Can you not be a total klutz for two seconds?" The older had muttered, eyeing Namjoon with contempt.

You had looked at them with a triumphant smirk, pride oozing from your eyes as you had gazed upon your captured prey.

Now all that had been left was...

"I did it!" Hoseok had whooped joys of victory as he kicked the can on your driveway and sent it flying into the trees.

The satisfaction on your face wavered as the gardener gathered you up in his arms and twirled you around in a fit of giggles. You'd let your guard down for seconds, not realizing it was just long enough for Hoseok to emerge from his hiding spot and sprint through the night time breeze like a fucking gazelle. Damn those long legs.

"Where were you hiding?" You had moped, lip jutting cutely in his arms.

His eyes had twinkled with stars as he placed your feet back to earth. "It's a secret."

The faintest smile ghosted your lips as you were pulled back to the present. He never did tell you where his hiding spot had been.

The blare of your porch light signaled your arrival so you stopped and turned toward Yoongi who was looking at your house as if he too were recounting a good memory. You hugged your arms sheepishly and rocked on the balls of your feet, not knowing whether you should say something or wait for him to speak first. Feeling your gaze, he turned his head and fixed his eyes with yours.

"Here we are." Yoongi said.

"Here we are..." You repeated. "Um... thanks–for walking me home I mean."

He grinned. "Sure. Don't mention it.".

Your throat felt swollen as you swallowed. "Right. So... see you tomorrow?"

Yoongi nodded thoughtfully. No more words were forming in your brain, so you turned on your heel with a wave and began to ascend the staircase.

Then you remembered.

"Yoongi, wait! Your hoodie!" You called, lifting the hem over your stomach.

Yoongi looked over his shoulder and smiled wide, the largest one you had ever seen him wear. "Keep it. It looks better on you."

You stood there, dumbfounded as he once again commenced his retreat and disappeared down the road. You stayed planted in your spot even well after he was out of view, twirling your hair like a ring around your fingers. You grimaced, suddenly annoyed with yourself. What were you, a lovesick school girl?

With a second glance at the empty street, you turned and walked up the stairs to your door. You paused in front of it, staring at your reflection in the crystalline glass–you did look cute, in an elfish-sort of way– and smiled stupidly before shoving your keys into the lock. The door gave a subtle 'creak' as you pushed against it and let yourself in. Right as you stepped inside, you were met with another set of wooden stairs that led to the kitchen and your parent's room while on the ground floor was your own bedroom and a bathroom. The air smelled like palm and floor cleaner with a hint of honey, a comforting and homely scent that reminded you of your mother. She liked things clean and tidy. You sighed, feeling the weight of your day leap off your shoulders and disappear into the dark of your home.

Flicking on the lights, you tossed your neck to the side and generated a ripple of cracks that rolled through your spine. God, you were drained. Some alone-time was long overdue. You sniffed your clothes and shuddered, the smell of meat and cheese invading your nose. I guess let's start with a shower... and a change of clothes.

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Red lights flashed through your eyes. Broken bottles littered the ground, their shards of glass glinting angrily and the whir of a ceiling fan pierced through the room. The sounds of sirens blared aggressively in your ears like someone was screaming bloody murder. You felt dizzy, the taste of alcohol rose from your throat and a horrible smell like rotting garbage filled your nose. There was a knock on your door and then a streak of light filled the dark, the sound of footsteps echoing in its wake.

Suddenly you felt yourself moving, waving side to side, your brain rattling in your skull as you were lifted in the air. Everything hurt, your body heavy as it sunk into a hard, padded surface. The slow beat of your heart pounded in your head and your breathing had faded into a shallow hum amidst your ribs. You squinted. Although your vision was blurry, you could make out a huddle of faces peering down at you, their features cloudy and smeared.

'What is happening?' You wanted to shout at them, though nothing came out. You had the need to turn over and vomit, but your stomach was empty and your muscles were limp so you let out a strangled groan of pain instead.

Someone shook you, their hands careful not to hurt you, however, strong enough to send a jolt through your listless frame.

"L/N-san!" From somewhere your name was called.

Who's that? Who are you? What's going on?

Your mind started to blank and the world spun, turning white; a hot white that struck your nerves with searing agony.

Make it stop. Please.

A pair of hands lifted your shirt, their fingers like ice against your burning flesh and from somewhere else another pair of hands smacked your face. Your eyes rolled, unable to focus. A foreign voice barked orders you couldn't understand, their tone frantic and demanding. A slew of other unfamiliar voices answered followed by a repetitive beeping that made your head ache. Then there was a pressure of some kind of object on your chest, it was smooth and cold like metal. It rested on your skin like pools of solid water and you shuddered under its icy touch. All of a sudden, electricity surged through you, snapping your back off of the padded surface, fingers curling in convulsion. You gasped out a scream, an explosion of colored dots clouding your vision.

Stop! No more...

You begged for relief, tears streaming down your cheeks as the world was consumed by shadows.

"L/N-san! L/N-san!"

"Fuck!" You jolted upright in your bed.

With shaky hands, you clutched the fabric of your floral white comforter, sweat pouring down your back as you gulped buckets of air. Mouth dry and head pounding, you sighed heavily, rubbing your temples to ease the throbbing pain.

Great. Another dream.

You wiped the sleep from your eyes and stared vacantly around your room, wondering what time it was. By the way the sun glowed weakly, it couldn't have been past 8:00. After stretching your arms you rolled back on your side and combed the covers and pillows for your phone, finding it buried deep beneath the sheets by your feet. You must have thrashed in your slumbers, otherwise you had no idea how it could have possibly ended up there. Tapping your finger against the screen you squinted in discomfort as the light shone brightly in your face.

6:20 am.

A little moan escaped your lips as you fell back into the poofy embrace of your mattress. For a few minutes, you allowed yourself the luxury of lying on the bed, remembering your dream with vividity. Work didn't start until 11:00 and knowing you'd never be able to get back to sleep, you suddenly found a lot of time on your hands.

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A/N

Hope you guys enjoyed the second chapter! Chapters 1-2 were written this summer, so the writing may change from here on out. Just an FYI. Sorry for the wordiness, I'm trying to tone it down.

Cial

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Next⤏

[thefandomsinhalor]

Title: Let Your Heart Be Light

Author: thefandomsinhalor

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Castiel/ Dean Winchester

Alternate Universe - Modern Settings | Friends to Lovers | Growing Up | Christmas Fic | Kid Fic | Teenagers | Adults | Fluff & Angst | Pining | Sam and Dean are closer in age | Background Sabriel |

Summary:

On Christmas Eve, five-year-old Dean meets a boy of the same age, named Castiel. With every passing year, their friendship blossoms, and soon, Dean knows that he is drawn to his friend more deeply he’d like to admit. 

The question is: will he do something about it before it’s too late?

Read on AO3 

(I will update throughout the month)

Read Chapter One below :)

Chapter One: Thursday, December 24th, 1998

“Dean, honey, what do we say?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Ho-ho-ho!”

The man pretending to be Santa Claus amicably bopped Dean’s head before walking away to the next couple of children standing by, awaiting their present.

Yes, Dean Winchester, despite being five-year-old, wasn’t fooled by this imposter. He knew this man couldn’t possibly be the real one.

It was quite simple, really. It was late afternoon, he hadn’t climbed down the chimney, nor had he any cookie or milk laid out for him.

And then, there was the gift in question.

Dean didn’t want to seem ungrateful, as he knew his mother wouldn’t like it, but he had been very specific in his letter to Santa.

And there was no way this flat, though large, box contained the very intricate race track set he had begged for.

But that was fine. As he had concluded, this man wasn’t Santa. He was just pretending. Like the one at the mall. Or the one near the video store.

No. The real Santa was yet to come.

“Don’t you want to know what you got?” his father asked him.

Glancing around him, Dean realized that nearly every child had already torn open the wrappings and were enjoying their Christmas surprises. Fire trucks. Coloring books. Dolls and soldier toys. Even Sammy, sitting on his mother’s lap, was hugging a cute teddy bear.  

Feeling the stare of both his parents on him, Dean began tearing off the metallic blue and silver wrapping, which had snowflakes of various shapes on it, and was left staring at his present, puzzled once he had opened the box.

He had no idea what he was looking at. It was a thin layer of material, of a bright yellow color, with adorable bees depicted on it, stretched across a wooden frame, and a string attached to it.

“Oooh, that’s nice,” said Mary gleefully.

Noticing his confused state, John asked him, “Do you know what this is, Dean?”

Frowning, he shook his head at his father.

“It’s a kite,” he said kindly. “You make it fly.”

Dean lowered his eyes to look at his present again.

“Like in Mary Poppins,” said Mary. “You remember?”

He nodded.

“Next time we go to the park,” said John, “we’ll try it. Or even when we visit Uncle Bobby. He certainly has the open fields around his house for it.”

A grown-up, one of many present swarming around in the house, then called out to Dean’s parents. It was a nice lady named Tamara who smiled at Dean and wished him Merry Christmas.

“Isaac is somewhere in the parlor talking with Rufus and Bill Harvelle. They were asking for you, John,” she said to Dean’s father.

“Bill?” said Mary. “Did he and Ellen bring little Joanna with them?”

“That’s what he said. I was just on my way to find them.”

Keeping Sam in her arms, Mary stood up from her seat, scanning the room for her friend.

“I’ll go check on Isaac and the others, and then I’ll catch up with you to see Ellen and the baby,” said John, smiling at his wife’s eagerness to see the newborn. He then turned to his son. “Do you want to say hello with me, Dean? Or would you prefer going with Mom, Sammy and Tamara?”

Dean shrugged. Talking to grown-ups wasn’t exactly what he considered a thrilling activity. Of course, there were exceptions.

Due to his lack of enthusiasm, however, his mother then suggested, “How about you stay here with the other children?”

Another questionable prospect, thought Dean.

Most of the kids in the living room, laughing and playing with their new toys, seemed much older than he was.

And more importantly, he didn’t really know any of them.

The celebration, which Dean and his family were taking part in that day, had been hosted by Mr. Donatello Redfield, one of Dean’s neighbors.

Except for when John had raked his lawn in the fall, a task dutifully assisted by Dean—though he had mainly played in the pile of dead leaves while his father had done most of the work—Dean hadn’t had much interaction with Mr. Redfield.

He remembered that he had been very generous at Halloween when he and Sam had stopped by his house. Mr. Redfield had given them enormous delicious candy bars. And Dean also recalled him letting him taste his spicy chicken wings on the Fourth of July, in the previous summer.

But nothing much beyond that, and especially during Christmastime. For reasons unknown to Dean, Mr. Redfield didn’t make a fuss of the holidays. He typically travelled somewhere exotic and returned home in the new year with a sunburn on his nose.

This year, however, had been different. For health-related reasons, or so Dean had heard, Mr. Redfield had been recommended to pause his travels, and given his holiday habits, many of his concerned neighbors feared he would feel lonely and had wanted to keep him company.

So, due to numerous dotting neighbors, friends and colleagues showing up at his doorstep throughout the months of November and December, Mr. Redfield had decided to host a Christmas family-friendly party on Christmas Eve to thank everyone.

His first ever.

The crowd was merry. Laughter and cheers from children and adults alike filled the entire house.

But despite the jolly vibe in the air and the numerous children present, Dean hadn’t been too keen on exploring on his own.

When he told his parents why that was, his mother said, “That’s a good thing, sweetie. It means you can make a new friend. Okay?”

Assessing his mild hesitation, after he had glanced apprehensively at the other children, she pointed out that he had nothing to worry about and that if he was shy, he could start by joining another of their neighbors. For example, Mrs. Missouri, a kind and generous woman, was comfortably sitting in a rocking chair, telling a story to a few children gathering around her, and listening with attention and with wide eyes, near the fireplace.

Suddenly determined to prove that he was not shy, Dean shook his head and said, “I’ll go play with the others, first.”

Even if he really wanted to say hello to Missouri as well.

“Alright, buddy. Do you want me to hold this for you while you do that?” said his father, pointing at his kite, but Dean expressed that he wanted to keep it with him.

And without further ado, young Dean turned on his heels and joined the group of children, searching for a new friend.

He was briefly tempted to approach a joyous girl with a blond ponytail and a sheriff’s hat that was too big for her. She was laughing with her friend who had a very strange haircut. His hair was very short in the front, but really long in the back. They were playing Connect Four, which Dean enjoyed playing.

He changed his mind, however, when a bunch of older children swooped by, running around, taking a lot of space.

Feeling somewhat intimidated by them, Dean briefly glimpsed back to the spot where his parents and his brother had been a moment ago.

But they were no longer present, as he knew they wouldn’t be.

He swallowed hard and decided to go near the large window across the room to avoid the bigger kids. He kneeled next to the Christmas tree, taking in the overwhelming scent of pine and cinnamon, and observed the room from this new angle, holding on tightly to his kite.

Everyone else seemed to know each other and blissfully occupied themselves with their toys.

Which made sense, thought Dean, as their toys could be enjoyed in their current environment.

Unlike Dean’s.

“Hello.”

Dean looked up.

A boy his age and height, with bright blue eyes and thick, wavy dark hair, was suddenly standing right in front of him. He was wearing a green knitted sweater with an angel on it and his socks were different colors.

“Hi.”

“Do you want one?” the boy asked politely.

He was holding a square box against him with one hand.

And then, Dean’s eyes fell on what the boy was presenting him with his other hand.

Star-shaped sugar cookies.

“For me?”

The boy nodded.

After Dean accepted his generous offer, the boy sat next to him and they both ate their treats next to each other.

“What did you get?” he asked Dean, nodding at what he was holding.

Pursing his lips, Dean showed him his kite. Expecting the boy to be as disappointed as he was, he was then stunned to see the boy’s eyes widen.

“You’re so lucky,” he told him.

“You think so?”

“I like bees,” he said, after nodding. “And kites are fun.”

“I’ve never had one before.” Eyeing the box that the boy had rested next to him, he said, “What’s yours?”

And the boy slid himself closer to Dean to show him.

Right next to him.

They delicately opened the box together.

And to Dean’s delight, the boy retrieved a giant rainbow slinky.

“Whoa! That’s so cool. Can we play with it?”

“You like it?”

His eyes glued to it in adoration, Dean nodded.

“Do you want it?”

Young Dean blinked. “What?”

“We can exchange, if you want.”

“Really?”

And moments later, both boys were content with their new presents. Dean certainly believed that he had gotten the better end of that deal. At that thought, a mild pit grew in his stomach, not unlike when he sometimes lied to his mother about brushing his teeth.

Feeling uneasy that he had perhaps taken advantage of his new friend’s generosity, he asked him, “Are you sure you don’t want the slinky? It’s really fun and the colours are nice. It was yours first. I—if you changed your mind, it’s okay.”

But the adorable boy in question did not mind. In fact, he informed Dean that the main reason why he was so keen on having the kite was because his brother had one of his own. So now, he would be able to accompany him to the park without having to constantly ask him to share.

Reassured—not to mention, very glad to know he could keep his rainbow slinky—Dean said, “I have a brother too. He’s younger than me.”

“I have more than one brother. I have three. They’re all older than me.” The boy hadn’t said it with as much enthusiasm as Dean had. His brief morose expression disappeared though, and a warm grin spread on his face when his eyes met Dean’s.

His bright blue eyes staring back at him.

“What’s your name? I’m—” started saying the other boy, but he was cut off by an impeccably dressed teenager, who had stopped right in front of them.

“Castiel, there you are. Come, now. We have to go.”

Dean’s new friend shook his head vehemently at the teen. “No. I want—I just made a friend. Can I stay a little longer? Please?”

“Aunt Naomi said we have to leave now or we’ll be late.”

“Michael, please? I’ll—”

“She asked me to find you. I found you, now come on.”

“Michael,” hissed a woman. “It’s time to go—Gabe, stop! You’re making me dizzy.”

A child with sandy hair, not much older than Dean and Castiel, was running relentlessly around her, chortling and unspent.

“Castiel, say goodbye.” And his brother presented him his hand, signalling to him that he had to leave immediately.

He turned facing Dean and said softly, “Goodbye.” And added, waving at him, “Thank you for the kite. I love it.”

“Bye.” And Dean thanked him as well.

He watched his new friend walk away towards his family members, a large group, mostly consisting of older kids and adults, and disappeared through the crowd.

Feeling lonely once more, Dean was suddenly sad when he realized that he never had the chance to tell him his name.

He comforted himself, however, that he had caught the boy’s name and was eager to tell his parents of his new friend and the very first Christmas present he had ever received from a friend.

And that was the day Dean had met his best friend Castiel Novak. His best friend of many years to come. And one day, perhaps, something more.

Read on AO3

(where I will update throughout the rest of the month)

[outshinethestars]

Germany gets to have a Nice, Relaxing Day for Once (Hetalia, Immortal Prussia au)

Germany woke the next morning to find Prussia sitting on the kitchen counter.  

“You’re up early,” Germany said in sleep-fuzzy surprise.

“It’s six-thirty already,” Prussia said, “You slept in.”

“Mmm,”  Germany said.  Even so, Prussia usually slept until eight at least.  Just another reminder that until last night his brother had been literally on the brink of death.

“Coffee?”

“Please!”  Germany said.  Prussia handed him a mug.

“You really should do something about that caffeine addiction of yours,” Prussia said.

“I’ll make a note in my schedule,” Germany said, then, “You made breakfast,” the coffee having restored in him the ability to notice things.

“That I did,”  Prussia said proudly, “Who’s the awesomest big brother in the world?”

Prussia with breakfast ready for him when he got up, it was like being a kid again.  Germany smiled.

“Switzerland, probably,” he said.

Prussia pouted.  “I can’t believe I raised such a brat,” he said.

They took their time with breakfast, talking and relaxing.  It was nice.  

“So,” Prussia said as they finished, “What’s on the agenda today?” “Nothing,” Germany said, “I’m supposed to still be in the US. I suppose I should--”

“Awesome,” Prussia cut him off,  “You get a day off!  Go read a book or something.  After you reschedule with America, I guess.” “I’ll email him this afternoon,” Germany said, “It’s one am his time.”

“Oh, he’s definitely still awake,” Prussia said, “He has the worst sleep schedule of anyone I know.  You don’t have a sleep schedule so don’t look smug.”

Germany rolled his eyes, and made to start cleaning up the dishes.

“Don’t worry about that,” Prussia said, shooing him away, “I’ll clean up.  You go enjoy your luxurious one-day vacation.”

“You’re sure?” Germany asked.  Prussia had drilled into him quite firmly the idea that you did not leave the cleaning up for other people.

“Of course I’m sure.  Go!  Shoo!”

Germany shooed.  

Apart from the digs at Germany’s life choices, Prussia was being almost disturbingly nice.  Germany chose to enjoy it while it lasted.

Prussia was right about America still being awake.  He answered Germany’s email in under a minute, and they were in the middle of the deeply annoying and complicated process of rescheduling when he heard Prussia yell, “I’m going out!”

“Remember to wear sunscreen,” Germany yelled back.

“Yeah, yeah,” Prussia replied, and the door slammed.

Prussia hated sunscreen.  He loathed it with every fiber of his being.  He hated the way it smelled and he hated the way it felt even more.  It was just so incredibly gross .  He’d survived for centuries without it, and he saw no reason why he should have to start wearing it now.  Sunburn was annoying, sure, but he was used to it, and if he preferred his skin to be on fire than to cover it in slimy-sticky-ickiness, that was really none of Germany’s business.

However, at this point Prussia had no idea how he was still alive.  And, jokes aside, he had no idea in what sense he was alive either.  Was he human now?  Did God just… forget about him? He knew that last idea wasn’t how it worked, but he couldn’t think of any other explanations that made sense either.  Could he get cancer now?  Who knows!

So Prussia was wearing the damn sunscreen.  And a hat for good measure.

Prussia was going out.  He had vague ideas of buying groceries at some point, but mostly he just wanted to walk out his front door and continue to walk, and enjoy the fact that he could keep walking and look at his city without collapsing immediately from pain and exhaustion.

Gilbird flitted from Prussia’s shoulder to a tree and fluttered round his head, delighted at being out and about again.

“You’d better not die,” Prussia threatened him.  Theoretically he wouldn’t, he was still in close proximity to Germany.  Gilbird was an unusual case anyway, being around Nations tended to make animals age more slowly, but it didn’t usually make them stop aging entirely. In any case, Prussia suspected Gilbird was some sort of immortal cryptid creature in his own right, because he had no idea what sort of avian a Gilbird was supposed to be.  He mostly looked like a baby chicken, but obviously wasn’t.

Gilbird twittered at him cheerfully, as if he found the idea of dying funny.

They’d been enjoying themselves for about an hour when Prussia felt an odd buzzing sensation in his skull.

And then long-honed instinct had him ducking out of the way as a stranger, quick as lightning, pulled a sword from under his coat and tried to remove Prussia’s head from his body.

“What the fuck!” Prussia said, but he was already running.

Prussia was just minding his own business in a perfectly peaceful park when a stranger tried to decapitate him with a sword out of nowhere.  That didn’t happen!  Was this some sort of cosmic glitch?  Did some kind of heavenly bureaucratic error cause him to not die so now the universe was going to have to try to kill him off in increasingly unlikely ways?  What the fuck!

Prussia ran full tilt, with Gilbird twittering frantically above his head, in the direction of streets and people, with the hope that the murderous madman wouldn’t want to kill him in front of witnesses.  Prussia’s legs were shorter than the stranger’s but Prussia was good at running, and also, he was running for his life, which always gives you an edge.

Damn he’d missed this.

He slowed down when he reached a busy street with plenty of pedestrians, and fortunately the crazy guy hung back and didn’t attack him.  He did keep following him, though, despite all of Prussia’s efforts to lose him.

The smart thing at this point, Prussia knew, would be to go home, where he had a door that locked, and also weapons.  However, it was Germany’s day off.  Germany deserved a nice, relaxing, totally murderer free day off!

So, Prussia was not going to lead this guy back home.  He continued wandering around in an effort to get away, or at least make him lose interest.  Unfortunately the guy turned out to be both incredibly good at following a target (seriously, what was he, some kind of super spy?) and absolutely fixated on murdering Prussia specifically.

By noon, Prussia was eating lunch at a cafe, and the crazy sword murderer was glaring at him from across the street.  Prussia was resigning himself to the fact that he had no way to get the creep to stop following him.  He knew he really should just admit defeat and take a taxi home at this point.  But.  Germany’s Nice, Stress-Free Day!  Bringing home crazy sword murderers just wasn’t polite .

What Prussia did next was, in retrospect, quite possibly the stupidest choice he’d ever made, which is really, really saying something.  In his defense, he hadn’t known his stalker was potentially a trained killer with millennia of experience.  In his not-defence, he probably should have thought of the possibility.

Prussia pretended to get lost and ended up in an abandoned back alley on purpose.

As far as he knew, his attacker was just some guy with a sword.  He was the Awesome Prussia.  He could totally take some guy with a sword empty handed.

Unfortunately, it was immediately apparent that this man knew what he was doing.  It was all he could do for Prussia to dodge.  The alley was a dead end, so there was no escaping, and Prussia tried desperately to get inside his attacker’s guard with no luck.

The sword grazed him on the arm, and the cut healed with lightning sparking over his skin.

Fuck, Prussia finally realized he’s an Immortal, we’re Immortals , followed almost immediately by, Oh, shit, I’m gonna die. ( Almost immediately because his first thought was, Yay! I don’t have to wear sunscreen!)

Luckily for Prussia, this particular Immortal was somewhere in between Some Guy With a Sword and Millenia of experience, honed to a razor’s edge.  He was competent, but nothing special, and he was becoming increasingly frustrated that Prussia was not dead yet.  (What kind of Immortal didn’t carry a sword?  What kind of Immortal didn’t carry a sword and walked straight into a dead-end alley knowing he was being followed?  What kind of Immortal was that clueless and still this hard to kill? )

With his new perspective, Prussia was better able to assess his assailant’s weaknesses.  He was very experienced, but his experience was very narrow.  He was used to one-on-one sword fights, specifically one-on-one sword fights where both opponents were aiming for the head.  This left him with a few blind-spots.

Eventually, Prussia found his opening and charged, low to the ground with his head and neck forward and inside his opponent’s guard, ignoring the sword coming down to stab him in the back and bowling the enemy over onto the ground.  They grappled, Prussia using his bony elbows with great efficiency, until he had his opponent’s sword arm pinned down and pried the sword from his hand.

Prussia rolled to his feet and cut off his attacker’s head as he tried to stand.

Lightning flashed.

It was a feeling like taking new territory, that feeling of Who I Am being altered, added to with the lives of others, but somehow more .  More, intense, more personal, altering something on a deeper, wrong level.  There was a feeling of euphoric power, like winning a victory that history books would one day call a “Turning Point”, it was nothing like what being shot through with high voltages of electricity actually feels like, but a lot like how you would always half imagine it would feel like.

Prussia collapsed to the ground, panting.

“I am never doing that again,” he said.

Gilbird swooped down from where he had been hiding and swooped down to nestle in the hollow of Prussia’s neck comfortingly.

Immortals.  He was an Immortal.  It made sense, in its way.  Prussia had never heard of a Nation becoming an Immortal, but then nobody knew how Immortals worked in any case.   Many Nations didn’t even know that Immortals existed, and Prussia didn’t know if any Immortals knew of the existence of Nations.  

Prussia looked down at himself. “Shit,” he said.

His clothes were ripped and covered in blood, both his own and the other Immortal’s.  What was he going to tell Germany?

Nothing, he decided.  Germany didn’t need to know that anything had happened.

By some miracle, Prussia managed to buy a new shirt and pair of pants and change in a public restroom without anyone calling the cops on him.  It helped to act very calm and confident and polite, and not at all like someone who had just killed a dude in a back alley.  Most people probably thought he was wearing a very convincing costume of some sort.

Looking, once again, like a sane and law-abiding member of society, Prussia considered how he was going to explain his change of clothes.  An idea struck and he called North Italy.

“Hello, Prussia!  How are you today?”  Prussia briefly examined the “how are you today”, wondering how pointed it was, before discarding that train of thought.

“Hey, Veneziano,” he said, “If I were to tell Germany that I lost to you in a game of strip poker today, would you back me up?”

“... Why do you want Germany to think you lost a game of strip poker?”

“I might have had to change clothes because I got in a fight.  Just a little one.  But I don’t want Germany to worry.”

Italy sighed.  “Prussia,” he said, his voice concerned, “You know you shouldn’t do these things.  It’s not sensible, and it’s not responsible.  Please take better care of yourself.”

It was always a little shocking when Italy acted like some sort of older, wiser friend towards Prussia.  Like, “Yes, I knew you when you were a baby, and I was a baby too but also hundreds of years old, and even though you look older than me now, I know and you know that you aren’t actually.”

“I know, I know,” Prussia said, “If you’ll believe me, it wasn’t my fault. You won’t tell Germany, though, right?”

“What do you think I am, an idiot?”  Veneziano said, “Of course I won’t tell Germany.  And I’ll help you with your little lie.”

“Thank you,” Prussia said, “How much do I owe you?” “Owe you?”  Veneziano said, “Can’t you believe I’d do a favor for a friend just to be nice?”

“No, I can’t” Prussia said, “I’m not my brother, I know you.”

“That’s mean,”  Italy said, “Germany knows me very well.  Parts of me, anyway.  And,” he added, his voice tinged a little with sadness, “You really don’t need to owe me anything for this, Prussia.”

Prussia knew that Italy only said that because he felt sorry for him.  He thought that Prussia was dying and going down a self-destructive spiral so he wanted to be supportive.  Prussia’s enormous desire to not be in Italy’s debt warred with his desire not to take advantage of his misplaced pity.  The latter won.

“I’m not dying, Veneziano,” he said, “I was dying, but I got better.  I’m better now.”

“And because you suddenly didn’t feel awful, you went out and picked a fight with someone. Which is a really silly thing to do, and you don’t want Germany to know.  That is like you.  Okay, then, you’ll owe me a favor.”

“What sort of favor?”

“I’ll tell you when I think of one!”

“ What ?”

“Just a little one, promise.  You should learn to take advantage of people’s assumptions, Prussia.  Deal or no deal?”

“Fine, deal.”

“Excellent!” Italy said, then added thoughtfully, “There is one problem with this plan of yours, though.”

“What’s that?”

Italy giggled, “Germany won’t believe I beat you at poker. He thinks I’m an innocent.”

“Oh, come on, he isn’t that blind.  I did teach him history.”

“Yes, you taught him history.  I can imagine it right now,”  he pitched his voice high (higher) “‘Big brother Prussia?  How did Venice support itself after the trade routes changed and he lost all his terra firma land?”  And then you blush very red and you say, “Well, Little Germany, they… well, lots of people came to Venice for the uh… History!  Yes, the History, because Venice used to be so very important, you see, and they… they sold glass!  Venician glass is very famous!”  And then Germany frowns, because he is very clever, even as a baby, and says “Was that really enough to support the State?”  And you say,  “Yes, it is very expensive glass.”  No mention of gambling houses, and certainly nothing to do with prostitutes .  I bet you’re blushing right now just hearing the word!”

“Yes, well,”  Prussia said, “I guess I’ll have to besmirch your completely undeserved good name a little.”

“Oh, well!” Italy said, “I’m sure it will all work out somehow.”

Prussia was delighted to find Germany messing around with the engine of his car, which was the peak of leisure by Germany’s standards.

“What happened to your clothes?” Germany said when he saw him.

Prussia tried to look appropriately embarrassed.

“I ran into Italy,” he said, “And then I might, possibly, have lost terribly to him in a game of strip poker.”

Germany frowned, “If you ran into Italy, why didn’t you call me so I could join you?”

“Did you want to play strip poker?”

“No, you’re right, I would have stopped you from teaching Italy to play strip poker.  You really shouldn’t have done that.” “I didn’t teach him!  He suggested it, he wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”

Germany shook his head.  “I can’t believe you let him win,” he said fondly, “And you say I let him get away with too much.”

Prussia opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, rather like a dying fish.  When Gilbert was just a little baby Holy Order, pure and innocent as the driven snow, it had been Venice who taught him how to gamble, and then how to gamble all his clothes away and come home naked and ashamed, swearing never to do anything so sinful and foolish again.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?” he texted Italy later.

“he's adorable isn't he?” Italy texted back, and then, “you both are”

[himbowelsh]

Also i’d love some good old Luz/Toye modern day au headcanons! ❤️❤️❤️

oh my god, what if they met on a dating app tho

because luz is an absolute dating app ho.  he doesn’t use it to fall in love, let’s be honest  ---  i mean, if he hits it off with someone, sure, they’ll go on a date.  mostly he thinks they’re absolutely hilarious, and “you just meet the most interesting people on there, really”.   he’s got a grindr, a tinder, a bumblr, a tingle, and any other dating app you can name.  like, no less than five on his phone at any given time, and he’s got a collection of interesting profile pics screencapped.

(which means perconte gets texts at 3am of wild tinder profiles; for example, a guy dressed like a chicken in his profile pic, captioned by luz:  i think this one’s worth chickin out)

in short, luz uses them for the hell of it, and has met some interesting people, but never takes dating on them seriously.

then he matches with The Guy

The Guy is absolutely the most gorgeous man george has ever seen.  talk about jacked; this guy’s profile pics are of him lifting weights, running, boxing. all sports, all tasteful  (he’s never shirtless, no mirror selfies here) but he’s showing off his arms in every single one.

luz almost has a heart attack.

(perconte’s phone buzzes at 3am; it’s The Guy, captioned by luz, 😳🤯🥵)

on the other end of the line, joe toye is a grandpa.

no, literally. social media is not his thing.  he doesn’t have twitter, he doesn’t have insta, he has a facebook account he hasn’t logged into in years  ---  just because he does have a lot of aunties and they all want to know what he’s up to.

joe’s a boxing instructor, and a pretty successful one.  his gym asks him to record video tutorials for youtube, which he does...  but only because they keep sending a kid to film him, and he’d feel like an asshole telling him to beat it.  really, joe just does his thing in the videos, while wearing very tight shirts.  they get tons of views on youtube.  he doesn’t realize he’s become a mild internet heartthrob, because he literally just...  isn’t interested.

he also doesn’t seem to be interested in dating.   this, in the opinion of one bill guarnere, is a travesty.

bill pretty much badgers joe into making a tinder profile.  just one, just to take a chance on it and see what happens.  if he doesn’t like it, he can just delete it!  what’s the harm, right?

joe lets bill download the app, grunts at bill’s choice of profile pictures, and promptly forgets the app is even on his phone.

until George Luz happens.

what did you expect? george luz ALWAYS happens.

now, george has done some light internet stalking at this point.  he’s found the youtube videos, and has developed a full-on crush.  it’s bad, guys.  he’s considering signing up for boxing lessons, despite the near-certainty that joe could snap his spaghetti arms like twigs.

he takes the safe route, and just slides into joe’s DMs instead.

‘looks like your allergies are acting up in those pics’

‘you could really use some vitamin Me’

joe stares at his phone for a solid two minutes in dead silence before replying with a succinct ‘fuck no.’

BUT GEORGE LUZ DOES NOT GIVE UP. 

listen.  listen.  this man has an endless supply of pickup lines, and he’s not afraid to use them.  joe knows where the block feature is.  he can absolutely swipe left if he so chooses, but he hasn’t, and george takes that as solid encouragement.  somewhere out there, there’s a perfect line for the perfect guy, and he’s gonna find it.  so he sends a new line every day, just...  shooting his shot.

‘i’m feeling pretty sunburned, because your bio is too hot to handle’

‘no wonder you’re a boxer, you’re a knockout’

‘you could choke me out with those thighs and i’d come back as a ghost to thank you’

‘know what i could do if i rearranged the alphabet?  put the d in u’

‘would you rather fight 1 horse sized duck or 100 duck sized horses’

joe hates it.  he absolutely freaking hates it.  but here’s the thing  ---  george knows, and he knows, that he could just unmatch and be done with it.

he does not do this.

the worst part is, joe finds himself actually looking forward to the new line every day.  god help him, he likes it.  it’s something to snort at after a long day at work, something which gets him to roll his eyes every time...  but he won’t deny, it’s...  kind of flattering.   the guy is a dumbass, but he’s persistent, joe will at least give him that.

finally  ---  after the twelfth day, when george’s pickup lines have aged like fine cheese  (’my body has 457 bones, but u could still break me in half’)  ---   joe finally caves

‘that’s too many. too many fucking bones.’

on the other end of the line, george is having a mild heart attack. he replied!!  he actually replied!!

‘you’re right’   he shoots back.   ‘i know my anatomy.  i’ve actually got 205 bones’

‘no you fucking don’t.  an adult male has 206 bones in his body.’

nitpicky and ripped??  george is into it.

‘really?’   he can’t get the shiteating smirk off his face.    ‘looks like i’m missing one.’  (and at this moment, joe knows what the hell he’s just walked into.)    ‘ur gonna have to give it to me.’

a long silence.  george holds his breath, not daring to hope, not daring to dread.

finally, joe replies.    ‘if i give you my number, will you stop.’

‘oh baby,’  replies george,   ‘i can keep going all night long’

joe sends him his number.

he shows up to the date with an anatomy textbook, just to be a dick about it.  george laughs so hard he falls off his barstool, and that’s the moment joe realizes he’s fallen in love with this idiot.

then again, maybe that realization came 100 duck sized horses ago.

[rxsie-the-demon]

Brooklyn Baby | JJ Maybank

SERIES MASTERLIST | chapter one 

chapter summary: Nikki goes out of her comfort zone and bonds with Kie, while still remaining curious about what happened last summer. At a party, Topper gets a little too touchy, and Nikki (surprisingly) befriends Rafe and Wheezie.

warnings: drinking, smoking, HARD DRUGS, swearing (oops), HARRASSMENT (topper gets VERY touchy) so if that makes u uncomfy just skim over that, and a conversation about addiction/rehab and therapy

word count: 5029

Chapter 2: Cinnamon Girl

If I had to choose, B Days would be my least favorite. On B days, I have no classes with anyone I know, except English with Kelce at the end of the day.

And no one to sit with at lunch.

On my second day of school, when I realized I had no one to sit with, I ate in the library. You’re allowed to, so long as you clean up after yourself and stuff.

Walking into the huge cafeteria, with clean white titles and those long foldable school tables, I decided to do the same thing today; just sit in the library by myself, and maybe read or shop online, The tall walls of the cafeteria were decorated with motivational quotes and the school’s athletic accomplishments.

But when I was walking towards the lunch line, I saw Kiara sitting by herself out of the corner of my eye, head down on the table. Which made me feel really, really sad for her.

I stood in line quietly, AirPods in my ears, scrolling through Instagram when I found Kiara’s page. I didn’t want to seem like a stalker, but my curiosity got the best of me and I clicked on it.

Her page reminded me of this social activist that I follow that of a social activist I follow, the difference being that Kiara’s page was mostly environment-focused, with the occasional selfie and pics of her friends.

Clicking on one of her them, a selfie with her and her four friends on a boat during sunset, I saw a slightly sunburned brunet with his arm wrapped around one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. She’s probably a TikToker, I thought. Sunburn had a dark blue bandana wrapped around his neck and had his shirt unbuttoned. Major surfer boy vibes. 

Next to Tiktok, was Kiara, with bright eyes and a bright smile. Completely different from the girl who sits behind me in APUSH. The boy next to Kiara had dark skin and curly hair. He was wearing a hat, like Sunburn and the other boy next to him. And judging from the way his arm was around her waist, Hat totally had a thing for Kiara.

But the last boy, holy shit, if I thought Sunburn was cute, Hot Blonde Boy was another level. He was the one taking the picture, with one arm stretched out to hold the phone and the other one, covered shiny rings, was posing with, like, the rock hand sign? I think that’s what it’s called: with his index and pink fingers up, and the rest like they’d be balled in a fist. His messy blonde hair was being held together by a red snapback, and he was shirtless except for his shark tooth necklace. His tan went well with his bright, energetic eyes and big smile but...oh my gosh. His hands. They were big, with long fingers, and his arms were a little veiny and-

I put my phone away. Nuh-uh, I’m not going to be thirsting over a random guy’s hands, especially when that guy could literally be dead, or worse, the crazy dude who tried to shoot Topper.

Not that I don’t understand why someone would want to shoot Topper.

I grabbed my tray, putting a Chicken Caesar salad bowl (yum), a bowl of grapes (double yum), and a water bottle onto my tray. Remembering that Kiara didn’t have any food with her, I grabbed a hamburger, too.

I paid for my food and walked towards the utensil holder, debating whether or not I should just go to the library or sit with Kiara. I mean, I should sit with her, she’s by herself and is going through a hard time, but then again, I hardly know her. Besides exchanging numbers with her yesterday and not even texting her, I never interacted with the girl. She’ll probably think I’m just talking to her to get tea for Topper and Scarlet.

But then again, I already bought her a hamburger.

I walked over to her table. She was wearing a similar outfit as she was yesterday, the only difference being she was wearing light blue jeans. So, yay? A bit of color?

I sat down across from her and put my tray down quietly, not wanting to scare her. “Hey.”

Her head shot up immediately. Her soft brown eyes looked so tired, her light brown skin looking ashy and dull. Her dark brown hair, with it’s nice, defined beach wave curls, was tied back in a bun in her hood. When she saw who it was, her face softened. “Oh, hi.”

“I hope it’s ok I’m sitting with you, I don’t know anyone else in this lunch and I thought it’d be good to discuss our project.” I waved my hands around a bit before opening the plastic lid of my salad.

She nodded, eyeing my food for a second.

My heart hurt. Of course, she has the money to buy food, that’s not the issue. She probably hasn’t been eating out of grief.

“So I’m Indian, duh,” I waved my hand in front of my face and she smiled softly, “and I thought this was a chicken burger, but it’s beef. And I can’t eat beef, because, ya know, Hindus don’t eat beef. So, like, could you do me a solid and eat this for me? I hate wasting food and I’d feel awful if I threw it out.” I slid the burger towards her.

She nodded, pulling it towards her and taking a small bite.

I poured my croutons into my salad and started quietly eating when I heard Kiara mumble, “Thank you.”

I glanced up at her for a second, only to look back down. “Don’t thank me. I bought that on accident.”

“I saw you staring at me in line. And...I haven’t eaten in the past two days.”

I looked back at Kiara, who was looking everywhere but me. I decided to just ask.

“It’s because of what happened to your friends, right? You’re mourning?”

She nodded, still not looking at me.

“I understand. Grief isn’t something that has, like, a definitive answer. You just gotta let it run its course,” I said, putting my hand in front of my mouth because I was chewing.

Kiara nodded again and took another bite, a bigger one this time. I mentally high-fived myself for getting her to eat. I didn’t think it’d work.

“So, what do you want to do for the project?” I asked.

Kiara shrugged. “We could do current events. Maybe something environment related?”

“Like, an advertisement? We make a video talking about pollution or something?”

“Yeah! Or maybe we could organize something and get a bunch of people to come together and, like, clean up the beach?”

“Or we could go out on boats and find trash in the ocean?”

“That too!” Kiara’s eyes were shining now, and she was smiling. Wide. Much like the girl whose Instagram I was stalking.

“Sweet. Ok, so, the environment is one thing, do we have any other ideas? Like, isn’t the Outer Banks also famous for shipwrecks or something? I heard The Royal Merchant sank here. Maybe we could do a project on that?”

Kiara stiffened up when I mentioned shipwrecks. Did I say something wrong? 

Shit. Her friends died at sea, how could I be so stupid?

“That’s...not a bad idea, actually. I happen to know a lot about The Royal Merchant. More than I want to know, actually,” She chuckled. She looked down at her hands, and then looked back up. “John B, my friend who died at sea over the summer, he and his dad were obsessed with finding it. We actually-,” she leaned closer to me. “We actually found it. But, uh, the gold isn’t there.”

My eyes went wide. I leaned forward, too. “Well, where is the gold then? Do you know?”

Kiara nodded. “In the Bahamas.”

“How the f- How did it get there, if the shipwreck happened here and no one knew where it was until you and your Pogue friends found it?”

She sighed. “Long story. I’ll tell you another day.”

“Wait-”

The lunch bell rang. I sighed as we stood up and grabbed our bags, walking towards the doors to leave for class. I really want to know how the gold ended up in the Bahamas.

“Well, thanks for lunch, Nikki!”

“Of course, Kiara, that’s what friends are for,” I smiled.

Kiara beamed. “Call me Kie.”

I was overjoyed. A friend. A real, actual friend. “Kie. Fantastic. Hey, Kie, do you know anyone named Rafe by any chance?”

Kie narrowed her eyes. “Yea, why?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just invited to his birthday party this Saturday.”

Kie rolled her eyes. “Be careful around him, ok? Talk to you later!”

“Uh, bye!”

************************************************

Yellow, or blue?

I held both dresses up to myself, looking in the mirror.

Saturday came, and it was time for Rafe’s party.

The party starts at 9 and was gonna last all night, but Topper wanted to take me out to eat, so at 7:30, I’m still deciding which dress to wear.

Both dresses are sundresses, short, flowy with shirred backs and knotted straps. They are literally the same dress, down to the little polka dots, just in different colors. I could wear either one, because I kept my makeup simple: concealer, nude eye shadow, mascara, and clear lip gloss.

I texted Kiara, asking her to choose a color, to which she responded yellow. We managed to get really close in just three days, which made me happy, because I felt that she was my only real friend at school, and, well, I was her only friend there.

I slipped the dress on and matched it with my white Birkenstocks. I went over to my dresser table (yes I have two mirrors in my room, sue me) and put on my white tassel fringe earrings. I kept my ‘Om’ necklace on.

I admired myself. My light brown skin looks good with the yellow and white, and my jet black hair, which I decided to not straighten, had slight waves, and reached my shoulders. I look like a rich, beach girl. A Kook, I suppose.

I grabbed my phone, taking a quick mirror selfie and snapping it to Topper, captioned ‘i’m readyyy’. He opened it immediately.

‘Damnn u look hot,’ he typed out. Ew.

‘aw ty,’ I typed back. ‘where r u?’

‘I’m omw. U have ur bag? The party’s on a yacht and there’ll be a pool.’

‘swim suit’s packed’

‘Fantastic. I’ll be there soon.’

I locked my phone, putting it into my purple and black NYU drawstring bag that also held my black bikini and a towel. I grabbed the bag hopped down the stairs.

Mallory and Krish, my sister-in-law and brother, were sitting on the couch, watching TV. 

“Hey losers. My friend’s gonna be here any minute to pick me up.”

Mallory turned to face me, smiling. “Aw, you look cute! Have fun, and be safe, ok?”

“If you’re gonna be coming in, like, super late,” Krish added, not taking his eyes off the TV, “try to be as quiet as possible. Diya is a really light sleeper.”

Diya, my 5-month-old niece, made baby sounds. I took a couple steps forward and saw she was spread out on the floor, in her fluffy pink blanket, chewing on her gloved hands. I waved at her.

“Don’t worry, if I wake her up, I’ll take care of her. I don’t plan on drinking or smoking or anything tonight. Well, maybe drinking, but that’s it.”

They laughed. “Ok, ok, just have fun,” Mal said.

I sat on the floor, playing with Diya, until 7:50, when the doorbell rang, revealing Topper, wearing a black button-down shirt that was rolled up to his elbows (bless), Air Force 1s, ripped jeans, and a Gucci belt.

He smiled. “Ready to go?”

I smiled back. “Yep.” I turned to face Krish and Mal. “Bye Mom, bye Dad!”

“Bye, hun!” Mallory called out. They smiled and Top, too, and waved.

I closed the door and left, and Topper grabbed my hand to lead me to the car. “Sorry, I’d have introduced you to my parents, but they were too busy, like, ogling at my baby sister,” I half lied.

Topper laughed, “No worries. I’ll have plenty of chances to meet them, I hope?”

I smiled. “Yep, I hope so too.”

A complete lie.

******************************************

Dinner with Topper was...interesting. Instead of taking me to some fancy restaurant or whatever, he took me to this cute little diner closer to the beach, but not close to The Cut, according to him. “There are a bunch of restaurants here in the Banks,” he had said. “But not a lot of people know about this one. That’s why it’s my favorite.” He winked, and I nearly vomited in my mouth.

The place was real old-timey, with the little booths and a jukebox. We had burgers and shared a plate of fries and a milkshake. And honestly? It would’ve been really romantic if I actually liked Topper like that.

Don’t get me wrong, Topper is hot. He’s sweet to me, like cotton candy sweet, and really affectionate. I love touchy boys (consensual, of course, or they get their shit rocked), but he’s always grabbing my hand and playing with my hair. Which would be fine, but I barely know him.

And ever since he admitted to drowning that John B kid, whatever potential feelings I had just...disappeared. That paired with his Holier-than-thou attitude and his blatant classism makes him everything I would hate in a person, let alone a potential boyfriend.

Besides, I know the real reason he’s flirting with me. The Kook King of High School needs a Queen, and with his ex gone, everyone wants me to step into that role. Any other time, I’d be happy to be That Girl. But something just feels wrong about this.

Lots of people have told me I remind them of Sarah, apparently because she, too, was a bit of a social activist and an environmental freak (no wonder her and Kie were friends) which just confirms the fact that I’m just a replacement.

But, besides Kie, I have no other friends at OBX High. I have no choice but to go with it.

Driving close to the dock, I could hear loud music playing from somewhere. Leaning forward, I saw the yachts, one of them in particular already pretty full of people and neon lights.

“Yeah, Rafe tends to go all out on parties,” Topper remarked, gesturing towards the boats as he parked. “But they’re always fun.”

I nodded, plastering on a smile. I grabbed his hand. “Fantastic. Lead the way.”

**********************************************

Ok, I have to hand it to OBX kids. They know how to get turnt.

At 9:30, the yacht left the dock and headed towards the sea. By 10, the party was in full form, with kids dancing, singing, swimming, smoking, drinking, everything!

It was a glorious mess.

Right now it’s 10:30, and I’d been dancing with Top when we decided to go get something to drink.

We went to the bar and I told Topper to just one of whatever he was drinking for me, so he got two Mai Tais. The bartender looked really worried, because, you know, more than half the kids at this party are underaged, so I slipped him a 50 for his troubles.

Top and I walked away, laughing at the bartender’s confused face. The familiar feeling of alcohol started to wash

We walked around and talked about life and the universe, and when we finished our drinks, we went to the deck.

I leaned onto the railing, staring into the ocean.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I asked softly. Growing up in Brooklyn Heights, I was never one for the ocean. I mean, sure, there were beaches an hour or two away from my old home that I visited often, but I was always a city girl. But this, this was something else entirely. The way the pale, white moonlight shined on the dark blue ocean, it was comforting, almost.

“Yeah,” Topper whispered back, wrapping his arm around my cold body, “really is beautiful.” I turned and saw him staring at me, smiling just a tiny bit. I shoved him lightly.

“You’re so corny,” I laughed.

“Maybe, but I made you smile, didn’t I?”

“...Shut up.”

We laughed, and he wrapped both arms around me and pulled me close to him. I stiffened a bit. Calm down, Nikki. It’s not that big a deal. But it is. I hate leading people on and I hated that he was always touching me.

I snuck my arms around his waist and rested my head on his chest. I’m short, I’ll admit it, standing at a towering five foot four with my two-inch platforms. Topper, on the other hand, is six feet tall, so my head tucked in just underneath his.

We stayed like that for a bit, swaying softly to some pop song. I felt myself relaxing, but I knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Hey, Nikki?”

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, I really like you.”

I pulled back and looked at Topper, who was fidgeting with my hair, and I narrowed my eyes “Wait, actually?”.

I hope he’s joking. He’s known me for less than a week! I mean, sure, you can have an instinct attraction to someone, yadda yadda, and maybe he wants to get to know me better, or whatever. Fine. 

Maybe it’s because I don’t like him that, but I find his declaration of feelings a little ridiculous.

“Yea, I do. I know we just met, but I really want to get to know you more. No, I’m not asking you out...unless you want to date, that is, but I feel insanely attracted to you.” He brushed his hair back nervously.

I could reject Topper, and risk my popularity and social standing. It could end up well, it could end up terribly. But if I say I like him back, which is a lie, I guarantee my place as the most popular girl in the Outer Banks.

I place my right hand on his shoulder and my left hand on his cheek. Standing on my toes, I gently guide his face to mine.

As I close my eyes, I imagine that I’m not about to kiss Topper, but Hot Blonde Boy from Kie’s Instagram.

His lips are soft, really soft, and Top’s hands drop to my waist to pull me closer to him.

After we pull away, he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and gently kisses my forehead.

“I like you too, Top,” I lied, “but I don’t want to rush into anything. We just met, and I’ve rushed into things before, and they never ended well, and-”

“Hey, hey, I get it,” he takes his hand to my chin and lifts it up so that I’m looking at him instead of the floor. “We can go as slow as you like, all right?”

I smile and nod. Top cups my face in his hands, and right before he can kiss me, I pull away and say, “Let’s go swimming! I’m going to go change, ok?”

He nods, ruffling his hair. I turn, pulling my phone out from my duffel bag and sending a text to Kie.

‘sos i just kissed topper.’

I walk into one of the changing rooms and change into my bikini. As I’m stuffing my dress into my bag, I see I get a text back.

‘dumbass!!’

**********************************************

Apparently, when I said I wanted to go swimming, it translated to yeeting me into the pool and then jumping in after, and then us splashing each other, non-stop. I mean, I guess that is what you do at a pool party, but I have no idea. Usually, I just stand around and eat food and, you know, don’t actually go into the water.

It was fun and all, yea, but I was uncomfortable the entire time because he couldn’t- no, wouldn’t- keep his hands off of me.

After it became too much, I jumped out of the pool and sat down on one of the chairs, wrapped my towel around myself and feeling really uncomfortable. Topper climbed out after me and sat down at my feet. “Did I, uh, do something?”

Yeah, you won’t stop touching me, bro.

“No, no, it’s fine, I just got a bit claustrophobic, that’s all.” I checked the time on my phone. I had an idea. “Hey, I’m going to go find Kelce and Scarlet, ok?”

“Uh, sure, do you want me to come with you?”

Not really, no. “Uh, if you want, but I was just gonna have, like, a girl’s talk with Scarlet?”

Topper nodded and smiled. I stood up, shoved my towel into my bag, slipped my shoes on, and ran off.

I felt a little weird just walking around in a bikini, especially since I don’t know anyone here, but remembering that everyone else was just as scantily clad as I was made me feel a little better.

I went to the highest deck, where the eldest kids (and by kids I mean like seniors and 20-year-olds), hoping to find Kelce or Scarlet there because I hadn’t seen them anywhere else. But I couldn’t see them on the deck.

I walked around a bit and then decided to text Scarlet.

‘where are you?’

I got a text back immediately. ‘Top deck, near the front. I’m with the little kid.’

Little kid? I walked towards the front side of the ship and indeed saw Scarlet, wearing a dark red colored bikini, sitting in a lounging chair with a girl who looks like she’s in middle school. The kid was pale, with freckles, dark hair, and glasses. She was the only one at this point not wearing a bathing suit.

Why is there a kid here?

I sat down in the seat next to Scarlet and gave her a hug. “Hey!” I slipped my bag off my shoulders and leaned forward to face the young girl. “Hi. What’s your name?”

She smiled. “I’m Wheezie. My brother’s the birthday boy.”

“Wheezie?”

“It’s a nickname, my real name is- Oh, hey, Topper!”

I spun around. Topper was standing in front of me, arms angrily crossed over his bare chest. “Hey, Wheezie. Nikki, can I talk to you?”

“I’m enjoying the company of my new friend.” I gestured over to Wheezie.

“Yeah, well, I want to talk.” He roughly grabbed my wrist and yanked me up.

“Ok, jeez, lemme grab my bag.” I pulled myself from his grasp and turned around to grab my bag. Scarlet mouthed the words be careful, to me. I nodded.

“Bye, Nikki, it was nice to meet you!” Wheezie called out. I shouted pleasantries back. Topper grabbed my wrist again.

After dragging me halfway across the deck, he let go of me and turned around. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?! What’s wrong with you?! You’re the one who, one, won’t stop touching even though we’re not dating and we barely know each other, and two, literally dragged me away from my friends when I was having a conversation with them! Are you like this with all the girls you like? Huh? Maybe that’s why your girlfriend left you for some Pogue, not because Pogues steal things, but because you-” I stepped forward and shoved Topper, “-don’t know how to treat a girl, no, a person, with respect!”

I stopped talking and realized that a lot of people had gone quiet. My face flushed with embarrassment until I heard someone shout.

“WOO! You tell him, Nikki!”

I turned and saw Scarlet and Wheezie jumping up and down and clapping. Soon, all the girls (and some of the boys) around me were clapping and cheering for me, congratulating me and telling Topper that he’s a dick.

I stepped towards Topper. “You and me, whatever thing you think we had going on, it’s done.”

I turned around and beckoned Wheezie and Scarlet to sit back down with me on the deck. The partying resumed, and I went off chatting with the two girls, but I saw out of the corner of my eye that Topper was getting all huffy and puffy.

I pointed that out to the girls. “Should I be worried?”

Wheezie wheezed laughed. “He’s probably just going to call Rafe and get him to tell you off.”

“...He’s gonna get the host of the party, who I don’t know and never met, to yell at me? Fantastic. Good thing he’s your brother.”

“Technically half brother, but yes, a good thing. Oh look, there he is right now!”

I turned around and saw Topper marching towards me with another equally tall, equally blonde boy right behind him. The difference is, this boy didn’t have as much of a hostile aura as Topper has right now.

“So, which one of you embarrassed my boy Top?”

************************************************

The boy, who introduced himself as Rafe, the host, beckoned Scarlet, Topper, and I inside of his suite. He closed the door on Wheezie, though. Bummer. I liked her.

Inside his suite were a bunch of twenty-year-olds, drinking hard liquor, dancing, and sitting around this big table. Rafe took his seat in the middle, told everyone else around him to fuck off, and had us, except Topper, sit across from him. Topper took the seat to his right.

He offered us a bag of white powder, to which Scarlet and I declined. Topper took it, though, and started setting it up to use.

“You use coke?” I asked Topper in disgust. I have nothing against most drugs, like weed or psychedelics, which can be fun to use sparingly at parties or whatever, but not hard drugs like opioids.

Topper shrugged at my question. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. What the fuck is wrong with y-?!”

“Ok, no fighting at my party, please?” Rafe sighed, rubbing his temples. “I brought you guys inside so that everyone else can enjoy the party while you guys have your little marital dispute-”

“WE’RE NOT DATING!” I shouted.

“Whatever,” Rafe sighed.

I stood up. “I’m gonna go hang with Wheezie. Scarlet, you coming?”

She was about to respond when Rafe stood up and said, “I’ll join you.”

I shot a confused look at Scarlet, who just shrugged.

I slipped my bag over my shoulder and walked towards the door, which Rafe held open for me, and we stepped outside, the air making me shiver.

Rafe pulled a pack of Dunhill cigarettes out of his pocket, put one to his mouth, and lights it. He gestured the box towards me and I take one, leaning forward a bit so that he could light it for me.

I rest my arms on the railing and close my eyes, breathing in the burning smoke and exhaling it slowly, being submerged in the light-headed haze of nicotine.

“How old are you?” Rafe’s voice interrupts my zen. I open my eyes and look at the boy, who’s very obviously checking out my bikini covered body.

I laughed and took another drag. “Sixteen,” I exhaled the smoke from my mouth.

Rafe’s eyes went wide, and he turned back to the sea. “Oh shit. My bad. Uh...how’re you liking the party?”

“It’s pretty good. Besides, you know, Topper being Topper, and you forcing me to talk to him.”

Rafe laughed. “Yea, I didn’t mean anything by it. I have a reputation of being a prick, and I’m trying to be better but, you know, not a lot of people respect you when you go from being a douche to a nice guy.”

I nodded, understanding what he meant by that. “Reputation with friends?”

He laughed. “Just,” he waved his hand free hand around, “Everyone. I wasn’t a good person. I’m trying to be better, but it’s hard when everyone already expects me to act a certain way and don’t give me a chance to change.”

I noticed the rings on his hands, like that boy from Kie’s Instagram. But unlike Hot Blondie, Rafe’s too old for me.

Which leads me to wonder…

“Did you know Sarah Cameron, by any chance?” I asked.

Rafe’s eyes went wide, and then he started coughing up smoke.

“W-Why do you ask?” He stammers, still coughing.

I gave him a weird look and just shrugged. “Curious, I guess.” I looked back at the ocean. “I’m the new girl, and everyone keeps telling me about all this stuff, but won’t tell me what actually happened, and I dunno, I’m just so confused.”

I turned to face Rafe, who was looking away, and I think I saw tears forming in his eyes. “Yea, Sarah’s my sister.”

Now it was my turn to cough up smoke. “W-”-cough cough- “Wait”-cough cough- “a minute.” I gasp for air and continue coughing. And after I finally manage to get some oxygen into my lungs, I say, “Sarah Cameron’s your sister? Shit, I’m so sorry, Topper never told me.”

Rafe shrugged, fiddling around with his rings. “It’s alright, I was just...surprised. No one asks me about Sarah or the Pogues anymore. After I came back from rehab-” He stopped, probably because he didn’t mean to say that, but he continued, “After I came back from rehab, I just...stopped beefing with the Pogues, especially JJ, Kie, and Pope. You know them?”

I nodded. “I know Kie, we’re friends. But not JJ and Pope. Never met ‘em, don’t even know what they look like, yet I’ve heard so many things about them.”

Rafe nodded. “They’re not bad kids, really. My time away made me realize how much of a prick I’ve been to them. Like, I caused them a lot of pain, and for what? For nothing. Literally just because I thought that, because they were poorer than us, they weren’t as good as us.”

I nodded. Then I turned and smiled, and stretched out my hand. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Rafe Cameron.”

He smiled and shook back.

_______________________________

chapter three

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Warning: violence, thief, drinking (legal), and SMUT. Because good lord look at him)

Fiorella Aceveda, a twenty-three years old sister to a police captain of a bad part of town. David Aceveda, her brother, was running the Barn; a police station in Farmington district of Los Angeles. He found himself in a lot of trouble after the assault, and with the two hooligans on the loose her brother felt the need to cover his sister a little closer.

“Fiorella, this is Curtis Lemansky, he’s as a favor to me. I know it isn’t ideal, but he’s here to keep you safe. His team, this is the leader, Vic Mackey, Shane Vendrell, and Ronnie Gardocki. These guys will be taking turns, but it’ll mainly be Officer Lemansky. Let me talk to Fiorella alone for a moment?” He asks, seeing the steam rolling from his younger sister’s ears as her face flushed.

“David, I don’t need any kind of protection detail. I’m fine, Mano.” She smiles, patting his tense shoulder with a soft hand.

“Listen, until they’re caught, Lemansky will be here. The whole team will, but mostly Lem. He’s the most relaxed when it comes to rules. No friends, no boyfriends, no clubs—“ She snorts, wandering back to the living room to greet her new best friend. Stepping up to the big blonde, she sticks out a hand.

“I’m Fi. You have to be Lem.” She smiles, praying she was right. He was extremely easy on the eyes and his relaxed stance gave him away. He also looked like the poster child for Ron Jon Surf Shop.

“Yeah, that’s me. Curtis if you like. Or Lemonhead, Lem, hey you, whatever makes this easier.” He chuckles, gripping her hand in his for a second before giving her a gentle nod. “This is Vic, Shane, Ronnie. We’ll take turns but it’ll mainly be me here. They all have families and lives.” He rolls his eyes, the both of them laughing. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. He was cute, tall and blonde, slightly sunburnt shoulders and nose, and playful blue eyes.

“That’s alright.” She smiles, disappearing into the kitchen. David was there, eyes expecting her to say something smart. “I really don’t think this is necessary but—“ she stops him with her raised brows. “I’ll go with it for a few days. If it’ll make you and your wife happy.” She groans, grabbing a beer.

“Okay great, thanks Fio, listen. You have rules to follow, okay? Like the shower thing, you might have to leave the door open or shut off the music. You’ll have a schedule to keep. I brought a few things, they’re in the car.” He heads out the front door with the rest of the team, only leaving Lem to scope out the house. He heads first to check all the windows, locking what isn’t locked. One window’s lock was broken, he grabbed a chuck of wood sitting near bar and stuffed it into the pane to keep the window closed, and shuts all the curtains.

“Boy, thanks. I’ll turn on the kitchen light at three in the afternoon.” She rolls her eyes, letting Lem hear her complaint. Realizing maybe he overdid it, he sheepishly pulls open a few curtains.

“Sorry, I just gotta do this right. I was a bodyguard before I worked with the Strike team.” He smiles, his cheeks flushed, though she wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or sunburn. Whatever the case, it was absolutely adorable. David joined them in the kitchen, putting up a small whiteboard on the fridge with the times Lem and the others would be there. Of course, Lem had all night shifts, he was ten in the morning until two in the morning, Shane would switch him at one forty-five in the morning. Shane would be there from two in the morning until ten in the morning, when Lem would come back.

“Listen, this is great; but I have a few of my own requests. The bathroom door isn’t shut, but the music plays when I shower. I take hour and a half-long showers, so don’t be concerned. When I go grocery shopping, or go out, I don’t want a big scene, which I’m sure you don’t want either. You’ll be fine when I leave the house, just pretend you’re a friend or something.”

“Right. Any other demands?” Lem digs, giving her a twinkling grin.

“Ya know? Yeah, you keep smiling like that. See if it gets you in trouble.” She nips, pointing a cute little finger at him. Vic groans, rolling his eyes at their little smiling.

“Listen, we’re not here to flirt. We’re here to keep you safe, so let’s not go crazy with demands just yet.” He waves a hand in the air signaling a stop.

“Boy, you sound about as fun as a dead mosquito.” Lem snorts, a hand coming up to cover his face.

“I’m not here for fun. If I was, I’d have arranged a play date. This is cop business, if you have any threats, you know to call-“

“Oh I’ll call. It’s Dick Mackey, right?” Shane coughs, Lem gives another snort.

“Fio, this is a favor of mine. Don’t make me regret it.” David warns, pointing a stern finger at her. With a shrug, she disappears to her room. Lem is quick to follow, standing post at her door, ears alert waiting for her to finish. As she opened the door, she sucked in a breath and grabbed her chest.

“Christ, maybe that’s too close.” She breathes, grabbing his shoulder to steady herself. His hands rests on her elbow for a moment before she heads down the hall back to the group, Lem right behind her.

An hour passes, everyone leaving her and the tall blonde together. “So Lem, tell me about yourself. You from Farmington? You look like a surfer boy.” She ruffles his hair as she walks by, getting ready to make dinner. It was about six and her stomach was yelling at her. Cooking a couple chicken breasts and asparagus, she offers him a plate.

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.” He smiles as he sits at the table. She sits the plate in front of him as she sits next to him, digging into the asparagus. He shrugs, following suit. After dinner, she drags him to the couch and pops in a movie. Cuddling against his warm arm, he glances down at her for a moment as confused as could be. He barely even knew this girl and she was cuddled against him like she knew him. Mentally, he supposed he knew what she was doing. Her brother told her it would at least be seven days so she was getting comfortable quickly. Plus, if he was honest, he didn’t mind the cuddling. He looks back down to find he looking at him.

“What’s up?” She asks softly, hooking an arm through his and cuddling closer under his arm.

“Not much, what are ya up to down there?” He chuckles, patting her knee.

“Getting comfy, you? Why can’t you just sleep here? That Shane guy doesn’t seem great, and you and I know how Dick Mackey goes down.” She and Lem laugh together, falling into a happy silence. “I’m gonna head to bed, if you need anything let me know.” She nods to him before heading to her room. He stands, following.

“I need to sweep the house really quick. All the windows are locked, let me check your window locks and curtains.” She happily swings her door open for him, letting him go straight for the window. Pulling shut the thin curtains, he does a once over of the room to make sure it was the way it was supposed to be. Vic would be there around midnight for the first night watch, as they didn’t expect much to happen.

Awaking early, around six o’clock, she gets up and finds her way to the coffee pot, making herself a cup of coffee and remembering she was supposed to do some grocery shopping this morning. Met by a half-crabby Shane, eyes slits of sleepiness. Finding her clothes, she gets ready and grabs her keys.

“Where are you going?” He barks, grabbing her keys. With an angry frown, she tries to swipe her keys back.

“To the store, I just need a couple things for breakfast.” She assures, only to find Shane grumbling as he opens the door, escorting her to his car and getting in, driving her to the nearest grocery store.

“Gee, thanks so much.” She rolls her eyes as she heads into the store, Shane by her side. Finding the eggs, almond milk, coffee creamer, and sugar, she heads to the checkout. Stopping in the meat aisle for a package of bacon and sausage links. “I’m sure you’d prefer the sausage.” She snorts as they check out.

“I’m straight, asshole.”

“I’m sure you like asshole.” She pats his shoulder with a sarcastic grin.

By ten she had breakfast cooked and ready when Lem got there, a grin on his cute face as he greeted her with a hug.

“Thank christ you’re here. Stick-in-the-mud was a real treat this morning.” She rolls her eyes as she hands him a plate of food, and handing Shane a plate with one egg and bunch of sausage links on it. She snorts as she fills her own plate, plucking a sausage link for Shane’s. “You don’t mind, right? Asshole.” She grins darkly, laughing as Shane gets fired up. Dropping the plate on the counter, he pats Lem on the shoulder and mumbles something in his ear before disappearing.

“You two don’t get along well, huh?” He asks, stuffing a bite of eggs into his mouth and chomping on it.

“We get along fine!” She cheers with her mouth full, making Lem laugh. “Hey, I wanna do some more shopping. I didn’t want to keep Prince Ass-pian waiting. Think we could go at like one or two? I promise to make dinner. Might even let you choose what we have.” She wiggles her brows, enticing him. The only thing he wanted was to get to know her better. He loved her cute goofiness. They found a comfortable silence as she pulled out a few different supplies from a cupboard and some white clothes from a plastic tub. Laying out heavy duty, stained cardboard, she twists the white clothes into different patterns.

“What are you doing?” He asks, peeking over her shoulder.

“I’m getting ready to tie-dye these. I sell them on Etsy. Here.” She hands him a tee shirt, size extra large, and some rubber bands. She rubber bands one into a smiley face. “They’re so easy. Rubber band it how you want the pattern. So like, there’s stripes, bulls-eye, smile, heart-shaped, you can do almost anything.” She babbles as she mixes her colors, a spoon dyed almost black she used to measure into squeeze bottles and spray bottles alike; each bottle it’s own concoction of colors.

“So like, if I wanted to do that smiley face like you, how do I do that?” He asks, stretching a rubberband between his thumb and first finger, smiling at her.

“Here. So put one here,” her finger hits the shirt, “here” hits again, “and then accordion fold this part.” She draws the smile with his finger, holding his big hand with two of hers to point him in the right direction.

“Cool.” He sets to work, brows furrowed and tongue ever-so-slightly hanging from his mouth as he wrapped the spots where she pointed. “Alright. I think I did it.” He smiles, holding up the rubber banded shirt, confused. “You sure you know what you’re doing?” He asks, trying to see the image. She laughs, placing the shirt on the table and grabbing her basket of color choices.

“Pick a few, like two at least.” She waves to the basket. Lem finds a yellow, a blue, and an orange. “Now, put the color you want on the face and then fill in the background.” She instructs, guiding his hand with hers as he applied the colors. She finished her own project as he finished up with his. She smiled at him, taking in his sweet curiosity as his eyes swept over her for a second before rising to his feet and stretching back. Her eyes caught a glimpse of a sliver of tan skin peeking from under the hem of his tee shirt, her tongue swiping across her bottom lip before jolting to life, finding a sure footing as she whisked away to her room. Lem’s day would be short today, Shane would cover his last part of his shift so Lem could help Vic beat on some doors.

“Hey, Vic asked Shane to cover part of my shift tonight so I can help him at the clubhouse.” He states as he helps her into her car, falling into the passenger side.

“Bobo. I don’t like him. He’s a puto.” She hisses, grabbing her purse as they pull into the grocery store. This was the first time he’d ever heard her Spanish, and it was cute. He found himself chuckling, not even sure what she was saying.

“Listen, puto is pretty harsh girlie. I heard you on the phone yesterday, talking to a friend. I’ll let your friend come over if it’ll make it up to you.” He smiles as he walks by her side through the store.

“Fine, I’ll call Tigre, tell her it’s cool.” His eyes blown wide, mouth half-hung open.

“Wait wait wait-“

“What?” She nips, a hand on her hips.

“Tigre?” He asks, eyes flicking between the cellphone and her face nervously.

“Yeah, why?” He shrugs, waving it off. He’d be able to be civil. Maybe he’d have Ronnie take his shift.

“No reason. Yeah, have your friend come over tomorrow night. I’ll be your bartender and waiter. Get you what you want.” He chuckles, but the look in her eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Que pasa si te quiero.” She hushes, zooming away, cheeks flushing. He picks up his step, rushing her with a low growl and scooping her up, nuzzling her cheek with his nose.

“Pretty girl, don’t run away.” He whispers in her ear. She giggles, pushing her cheek into his nose. He kisses her cheek, finding himself almost reeling in the warmest. They finished the shopping hand in hand, she found him warm and safe.

“So, tell me, what do you know about Tigre?” She asks as he loads her groceries into her car.

“Listen, it’s kind of personal stuff, Chiquita.” He smiles as he gets into the car. She frowns for a second.

“You two—ya know?” She asks, watching Lem shift uncomfortably next to her, eyes looking anywhere but her.

“Uh—it’s personal. Okay? Can we just leave it at that?” He asks, eyes pleading her to let it go. They had, she could tell by the way he shifted and avoided eye contact. It hurt, knowing he slept with her best friend.

“Okay, sorry.” She shuts down. He watches it like slow motion. She avoids contact as she puts away the groceries and shoves things where they don’t belong. He frowned as he heard Shane’s car pull into the drive. He was here early.

“Hey, pretty girl. I’m sorry, okay?” He mutters, grabbing her hand. With a gentle, hurt smile, she pulls him to the sink to rinse the shirt that dyed out.

“Tada!” She cheers, holding it out. “I’ll run it through the dryer when you get here tomorrow.” With that, she whisks away from him. He found himself upset. He really liked her, and because of his past with Tigre he probably wouldn’t get a chance. Though, if he were honest he wouldn’t blame her one bit. It was almost the same scenario.

Shane comes in, pats Lem on the shoulder and feels the tension in the room. The tall blonde heads for the door, when she calls to him. “Lem!” She skips over to hug him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, his around her shoulders.

“I’ll be back around six.” He murmurs into her ear as he pats her shoulder.

“I’ll be here.” She laughs, shutting the door and listening as his bike roars to life.

“So what’s with the tension?” Shane asks.

“What tension?”

“The tension between you two.” He nods towards the door.

“There isn’t any.” She barks. He eggs her on the rest of the night until two in the morning when she finds him sleeping on the couch. Sneaking out, she gets in the car and turns the music on. Heaving a deep, calming breath, she wondered where she’d even go. Shane was too pissy, always picking on her. Backing out of the driveway, she drove herself straight to the Barn. Getting to the door, she asks for Lem.

“Just a minute. I’ll get him.” The dirty blonde woman cop disappeared down a hall to a door. Lem’s head juts out the door, eyes meeting yours. He takes off on a dead sprint, shouting to ‘buzz her through!’. She steps through the door, only to be met by Lem’s body crashing into hers.

“Are you okay? Is Shane okay? Does he know you’re here?” He asks, hands worrying around her face and shoulders.

“He’s sleeping on the couch. Jesus, Lemonhead. I just got the chance to leave the house, I figured you’d be pissed if something happened, so I came here.” She informs.

“You just decided to leave the house? Without protection? Just meander around? Do you understand why we’re staying at your house? You think this is a joke?” He shouts, eyes dark and shoulders tensed.

“No, I just—“

“Just what? Decided to galavant? Do you understand how much danger you put yourself in?” He fires, gripping your shoulders.

“Well, no. I just thought—“

“Thought what? It was fine? Safe? Jesus, at least Tigre knew to stay in the house.” He hisses, hands finding his hair.

“Yeah? I bet you were good at distracting her!” She shouts, shoving him away from her as she turns on her heel. Lem grabs her arm.

“No! You’re not leaving without an escort!” He orders. She grabs his hand, shoving it from her arm.

“No. I’m leaving.” She dares him to say another word. She sees a light on in David’s office and storms up the stairs, straight into his office. “I want the protect detail over!” She fires, slamming the office door shut. David jumps from his desk.

“What? I thought it was going well? Lemansky just came up here a couple hours ago and said it was going great!”

“Well it’s not! I want them out! I hate that redneck and I hate the blonde stupid Vato.” She hisses, teeth bared. Lem stood at the bottom of the stairs, contemplating if he should go up or not. As he starts up the stairs, Shane comes flying into the office half-awake and scared.

“Lem! Lem I lost her!” Lem’s eyes go wide. He found himself playing along.

“What?” He asks. Shane starts to pace the floor.

“I lost her man! I checked the whole house! I checked the grocery store! I checked the fuckin’ gas station! I even called Tigre! The girl you—“

“Yeah, yeah! You lost here. She’s here.” He shuts him up, heading to the clubhouse.

“What?”

“She’s in Aceveda’s office.” He waves a hand up towards the office.

“I want them gone. I’m done. I’ll protect myself if I have too. I’m done David. You tried. Thank you, but I’m okay.” She starts towards the door, but David calls to her.

“You have to at least let me catch these bastards. Baby sister, they made me—do things. Things that if they forced you, I’d kill them. Without a second thought. Okay? Let Lem keep you safe, I’ll pull the others off, but at least let Lem stay. He really likes you. Maybe if, you know, you like him too-“

“No.” She barks. “Fine. He can stay. But the Shane guy has to go. I hate him. He’s such an asshole. Too controlling.” She shoves out of her brother’s office, grabbing her keys from her pocket as she heads for the door.

“Hey!” Lem shouts, jogging to catch up with her. “I’m heading out, I’ll trail you.”

“Lovely.” She huffs, slamming through the door and heading out to her car. A man in a hooded jacket grabs her arms and pulls her away from her, covering her mouth. “Lem!” She shrieks, biting the man’s hand. With grunt, he shoves her away from him, grabbing his hand. “Lem! Lemonhead!” She cries, hearing his feet pound the pavement.

“Jesus christ!” He barks, kicking the man, cuffing him and dragging him into the station. “You’re a special kind of stupid.” He chuckles dryly, arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. He leaves her by the door, his eyes never leaving her quaking frame as he drags the man into the cage, pulling off the ski mask. Grabbing his cell, he calls Aceveda as he grabs her tightly, his cheek pressed to her hair to calm his own frayed nerves. “Come down here. I need you to look at something.” He ruffs into the phone. Dropping the cell into his pocket, he leads her to an empty desk chair at Dutch’s desk. Pulling up another empty chair, he sits down next to her.

“Lem.” She whispers, climbing into his lap, letting his big warm arms wrap around her and hug her tightly to his chest. She could hear his heart beating heavily still.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. It’s okay. You understand now. I’d do anything to keep you safe. We all would. You can’t go galavanting every time you have the chance.” He coos into her ear as he gently smoothes circles into her shoulder. Aceveda comes down the stairs to find a scene before him that made him smile a little. If his sister deserved anyone, it was the big goofy guy from Strike. He was funny and a gentle giant. He saw his sister cuddled tightly against his chest. As Lem looks up to see Aceveda, he stands and drops her into the chair. Only she doesn’t stay, she hugs tightly to him as he walks towards the cage waving to Aceveda to follow him. Aceveda watches the way Lem walks, keeping the woman tucked protectively under his arm.

“Him. He just tried to snag her outside of a police department. Dude’s got balls.” He growls, slamming his hand into he cage fence in the man’s face and making him jump.

“He’s not one of the two originally. Who knows who these assholes have paid. Lem. Stick with her twenty-four seven. She doesn’t want Shane or anyone else there. I had to fight her to let you stay. Keep her safe until I find these assholes.” He growls, heading back up to his office with a purpose. Lem nods, swallowing hard as he turns to her. Walking her to her car, he inspects the car to find one tire slashed and her wipers zip tied together.

“We’ll take my bike. I’ll come up and fix your car tomorrow.” He assures, offering her to get on. As she gets on he hands her his helmet, his hands covering hers for a moment. Looking up into his eyes, she finds worry there.

“I’m fine, Lem.” She whispers, looking back to the seat to keep her eyes away from him.

“You almost weren’t though.” He hushes. She pulls away from the fingers reaching for her chin. With a huff, he climbs on and the bike roars to life heading down the street for her house. When they arrive, Tigre is sitting on the front porch a hand on her hip as she saw her best friend get off the back of Lem’s bike. Storming towards the two, Lem’s eyes meet hers and she stops mid step. “Tigre.” He nods curtly, ushering the shaken woman into the house.

“What is he doing here? Are you two banging?” She fires, her accent thick as she got madder. Standing on quaking legs, Fi grabs the woman by the hand and drags her to the kitchen.

“No, Tigre. He’s just here as a favor to David. Wine?” She asks, pulling the bottle down from the freezer. “And why are you here? You were supposed to come tomorrow.”

“I know, but I was worried. You skipped Chola night, chica. You okay?” She asks, taking the glass of wine from her friend and taking a sip.

“No, not really. David-“

“Don’t say anything about it.” Lem booms from the doorway. She shrieks, dropping her own glass and bottle, shattering on the floor. Tears fill her eyes, but Tigre stomps into his face.

“We may not have worked out, puto, but you don’t get to scare her like that.” She snarls, jabbing a perfectly manicured finger nail into his chest.

“I didn’t mean to scare her. But she can’t talk about the case yet, not when we can’t trust the people she’s telling.” He digs, heading past the small woman to help clean up. “I’m sorry, pretty girl. I didn’t mean to scare y—“

“Don’t say anything else. Okay? You’ve done enough.” She bites, sweeping the broken glass into a dustpan and finding a towel to clean up the wine. “And I trust her with my life.”

“I wouldn’t trust her with my lunch money.” He nips, storming into the living room.

“You two didn’t end things well, then. Hmm?” She gives a tired little laugh, sitting on the kitchen floor with her best friend sharing a glass of wine and a package of cookies from the counter.

“No, he didn’t like when I went back to Hector.”

“You and Hector okay though?” She asks, eyes dropping to the corner of her shirt above her hip. Hector had carved an ‘H’ into her skin.

“He goes to church now. He’s a better person.” She assures, resting a hand on her knee.

“You can go to church and still be a terrible person.” She offers, taking another drink from the glass. Lem stands at the kitchen’s entry with a blanket and a half-smile.

“Want this?” He asks, holding out the blanket. Tigre stands and grabs it from him, grimacing at him before returning to the kitchen and laying the blanket on the floor. The two girls sit on the floor of the kitchen for hours chattering about boys and life; how easy life used to be before they grew up. Lem listened carefully from the living room, the TV low for background noise.

“You like him, yeah?” Tigre asks, tapping the end of her rosy nose a couple times gently with a sweet smile. Fi nods, glancing at the door. “He’s a good guy, chica. Not for me, but you? Yeah. He really is a good one. He tried to fight Hector for me.” She smiles, nodding to the doorway.

“I mean, I get it. But he, ya know, he’s so bossy sometimes. And you banged him. Who knows if he has diseases now. Hector has them.” She laughs, handing her another chocolate chip cookie.

“No, he does not. And anyway, he’s a cop. He’s a goody two shoes. Your type to a tee.” She assures, patting the other woman’s shoulder.

“You wouldn’t be mad though? I mean, he was yours once.” Fi whispers loudly, the wine kicking in.

“No he wasn’t. He was there, I was there, it happened. I’d take it back if I could.” She whispers, patting Fiorella’s hand. Fi grabs the woman’s petite perfectly manicured hand in hers as they lay side by side on the kitchen floor on a blanket staring at the ceiling.

“You wouldn’t be mad though?” She repeats.

“No, chica. I’d be happy for you.” She laughs, staring at the ceiling.

“We should paint stars on the ceiling.” She stands and heads to the supply closet for paint and brushes.

“Una galaxia.” She encourages as her friend finds a basket of paint and lots of brushes. Pulling out an old plate and some chairs, the two mix colors and get to work. They get quiet as they get lost in the painting. Lem gets concerned and heads into the kitchen. Without a word, Fi swings her brush down just as he steps up to her and she smears blue and purple paint across his face. Tigre lets out a laugh, clapping. Fio laughs harder with Tigre’s encouragement and Lem’s unimpressed face.

“What the hell is going on in here?” He asks, finding paper towel to wipe the paint off his face.

“A lot, chico. You wanna join?” She asks, offering a brush. He was tempted to walk away.

“Nah, I’m good. Just making sure you two loca yahoos weren’t sneaking out the kitchen window or something.” He grins as he heads back out the kitchen, but not before being painted once more. A glob of bright pink paint landing on his cheek and hair.

“She shoots, she scores!” She cheers, doing a little victory dance on her chair.

“I don’t think so.” He growls, scooping her off her chair and slapping his hand into the paint, smearing a huge handprint on her face and arm. She sucks in a shaky breath, the warmth of hand sending chills down her spine. With a smug grin, he wanders out of the kitchen.

“Girl, you two might as well get married.” Tigre gushes, grabbing Fi’s shoulders and grinning at her.

“No, he put it in you, Ti, I can’t get right with that.” Fi groans, standing back onto the chair and finishing the background. Now the fun part, splattering the white paint. She and Tigre splattered white paint strategically, all over each other and the ceiling. They were cackling, making Lem laugh on the couch as he listened on. Tigre wasn’t badmouthing him so bad, but she couldn’t get passed the fact that he’d slept with her best friend. How could that be the deal breaker? Why did he even think this would be a good idea? He had seen the look in her eyes when he touched her face, the lust that clouded her eyes, the little gasp. It egged him on, he wanted to take her on the counter right where she stood, covered in paint. He went to the bathroom to rub it out, when a horrendous crash makes him jump into action. Gun drawn, heads to the kitchen. Heaving a huge sigh when he sees the girls lying in the plates of paint, chairs lying on their sides as if a gust of wind blew them over.

“You two, seriously.” He shakes his head, heading back to the couch.

“You see that? He likes you.” Tigre whispers, smudging a thumbprint of white paint on her face.

“No, he’s doing his job.” She assures, patting the older woman’s knee.

“Yeah, but he was in the bathroom. His jeans weren’t buttoned.” She giggles. Lem looks down and sure enough, they weren’t buttoned.

“You two aren’t exactly quiet. Next time don’t spook a man trying to pee.” Fi busts out laughing, holding her sides as she doubles over. Tigre laughs at her best friend, patting her back.

“It wasn’t that funny.” Fi finally stops laughing and heads into hallway to change. They cleaned up the kitchen, had changed clothes, and were lying back on the blanket looking at their handywork as the sun started to come up. “I’m gonna head home. Glad I got to see you babes. I miss you a lot. Let’s do this again.” She whispers, hugging Fi’s neck.

“I agree. But next time, I’m not inviting Lem.” She chuckles.

“You won’t have to, he’ll be a live-in husband by then.” Tigre laughs, gripping her friend’s hand as she steps out the door.

“He will not.” Lem sat on the couch grinning as he watched her strut back towards the kitchen.

“Hey,” he whispers, grabbing her leg and drawing her back to him. With a sweet smile, she perches on his knees. “You doin’ okay after yesterday?” He asks, a serious look on his face.

“Yeah, thanks for letting Tigre come fiesta. It helped a lot.” She smiles, without a second thought her hands sift through his soft spikes of golden hair.

“No problem. It’s just you and me today. What the hell are we gonna do?” He asks, chuckling as she snuggles closer into his lap. The lack of sleep was becoming prominent, a yawn on her lips as he hugs her against his warm chest.

“I think we should start here.” She murmurs against his neck, nose pressed gently under his jaw. Her breath sent tingles down his spine and excited him. He starts to grow hard under her, shifting to get comfortable. “Quit moving.” She breathes in his ear. Rolling his eyes and shutting them, he let out a sharp breath, biting hard on his bottom lip. Peeking through one eye, she smirks as she licks her lips. Wiggling her butt in attempt to get comfortable, Lem’s hands grip down on her hips and he growls low in her ear.

“One more, and I’m toast.” He loosens his grip and she wiggles again, this time a giggle escaping her pretty pink lips. In one slick move, he’s got her pinned against the couch lips inches from hers, eyes dark with lust. With the tiniest gasp, her eyes are blown wide as he grinds his hips against hers, exciting her. Nimble fingers pluck apart the buttons and he shimmies out of his button-up. Drawing the white tank top over his head to expose the gorgeous abdomen. One she’d only seen sneak peeks of that taunted her dreams. A knock on the door causes them to jump apart, Lem quickly putting on his button up, forgetting the tank top jammed into the couch cushions.

“Just a minute!” She calls, grabbing Lem and pressing a tantalizing kiss to his lips as she scampered off to the kitchen, Lem answering the door.

“Morning.” David greets Lem as he continues through the house without a second glance at him. “Coffee?” He asks, searching in a cupboard. Lem pipes up, pointing to the cupboard a little above his head. Aceveda looked at him a little funny, half-concerned.

“She’s changing I think.” He pitched a thumb over his shoulder down the hall where she’d scampered to when she heard her brother’s voice.

She needed a moment to calm down. Her fingers brushed up the valley between her breasts. She closed her eyes willing it to be his hands.

“What’s up?” Lem asks, trying to hurry Aceveda out the door. Not exactly taking the hint, Aceveda starts back towards the door with a confused look.

“I was just dropping in to see if she’s changed her mind about you.” He states, waving a hand to the blonde standing in front of him. Lem gives a pretty chuckle.

“Yeah, she’s alright with me I think. I’m gonna level with you, man. I let her have her friend Tigre over last night just to calm her nerves. No one was hurt and I followed protocol, but after her scare, I told her to invite one friend that she trusted with her life. She needed to relax, and trust me, I wasn’t the best person for that.” He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Aceveda gives a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Lemansky. I appreciate all your doing for her. I have Shane coming to cover while you sleep here. You can sleep in her room or the spare room if you’d like to. It’ll be over soon. Tell her I said hi.” With that, Aceveda shook Lem’s hand and disappeared. Haphazardly flicking the locks, he heads down the hall, giving a soft knock on her door before pushing it open. A sight stood before him. Her hands exploring her naked body, one hand rising over her breast, the other slowly and tantalizingly slipping down the little dip in her abdomen towards her warmth.

“Christ, baby.” He groans, clearing the room in two steps and grabbing her calves with his hands and dragging her to the end of the bed. With fumbling, excited fingers she pulls at the buttons of his shirt and then his jeans, dropping them to the floor the moment she could.

“Lem.” She murmurs against his peck, licking the muscle there before trailing her tongue down his abdomen, landing on his throbbing cock. With a deep breath, she grabs his shoulders and pulls him down to her, planting a hot, fervent kiss on his lips. Greedy hands find purchase on her ass, pulling her against him as he laid her down.

“Baby, you have five seconds to end this.” He growls in her ear, earning a sweet little gasp. With a giggle as a response, he aligned himself with her sweet hot entrance and slid in. His head went back in ecstasy, her jaw clenching. He starts with gentle thrusts, slow and rhythmic but she needs more. She stands, him getting a little confused until she turns him and shoves him back onto the bed. Climbing on him, she positions him at her entrance, slowly sinking down. His mouth gapes as her hips roll into his smooth and warm.

“I need you.” She whispers.

“Tell me what you want.” He ruffs.

“Que pasa si te quiero.” She murmurs, earning a deep growl as he thrusts up to meet her.

“What does that mean?” He asks, looping an arm around her neck and flipping her over, grinding his hips hard into hers, sending chills through her body as he started to pound into her.

“What if I want you?” She whispers, her wide green eyes meeting his, full of wonder and lust.

“You’ve got me, baby.” He assures, feeling the churn in his stomach. He starts an unsteady slamming rhythm into her, her legs quaking as she tightens her ankles around his back. Clawing at his back, her nails bite down as he thrusts finally.

“I’m on the pill.” She hushes, letting him slam once more into her, her walls pulsing around him as she hit her high, letting him lose himself in her for a moment. Heavy breathing fills the room as he crawls up next to her. Her stomach turned as her eyes drifted over his sweat slicked body lying next to her; he probably looked the same next to Tigre. She stands, yanking on her clothes aggressively and leaving the room, slamming the door. She had exactly what she’d tried not to. He was so attractive, though, she couldn’t help herself. Shrieking in anger, she hits the fridge door.

“I’m sorry, did I do something?” He asks, chewing on the inside of his cheek and brow low in concern.

“Yeah! You banged Tigre! And no matter how hard I try that’s alway s gonna hurt!” She shouts, grabbing the door knob. “And I can’t even get away from you!” She gives a frustrated groan as she heads to her bedroom. The only thing she could think of was him having the time of their lives. She slams the door, stalking back to the living room.

“I can’t help who I’ve slept with! Christ let it go! I said I’d take it back, so did she!”

“It doesn’t matter! It happened!” She cries, grabbing a jacket as she grabbed the door, slipping out.

“You can’t keep running when you want!” He shouts, grabbing his pistol from the table and following her, locking the door behind them. When he turns, she’s gone. Swallowing hard, he listens closely. Passing cars, all he heard were passing cars. A pop echoes behind him and he spins to find her sitting in her car, bare feet hanging out the door a little above the pavement. “Jesus Christ.” He heaves a sigh, listening to the sniffles coming from the car.

“Please leave.” She whispers, getting out of the car with tear-slicked cheeks and puffy eyes.

“I can’t do that.” He whispers, his nostrils flaring at the sadness in her voice.

“Just go! I don’t need you to be here! I’ll be fine. Please, just go.” She whimpers, collapsing on the pavement with a crackle of thunder.

“What’s the problem?” He asks, crouching to eye level.

“I like you! I love you, limon! I love you so much, I don’t know why, but I hate that you banged my best friend. It’s a special thing, between two people, and it happened between us and I just feel so stupid and used. When this is over, you’ll be on to the next puta willing to put out.” She cries as the rain starts to fall.

“What? Listen, I know this seems like my thing, but trust me, pretty girl. This isn’t my thing. I love you, you’re beautiful and sweet and quirky. I think you’re chill and funny. But I don’t regret what we did. I don’t ever want you to feel used. You should feel loved, you should feel beautiful. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I have no control when it comes to you.” A man sprints up behind Lem, clobbering him and knocking him out. They grab her and stuff her in a trunk as they take off, leaving the big hulking blonde on the pavement in the rain. She shrieks for him, but he lays there, unconscious.

As he comes to in the clubhouse, taking in his surroundings. He’s still dazed when he hears Shane talking about losing a girl. Lem was more confused for a second, but when it all came rushing back his heart broke all over again.

“No.” He whimpers, gathering himself to stand up. “Fio. Pretty girl!” He cries, grabbing his pistol off the table and heading out the door when Shane, Vic, and Ronnie step in the way of the doors. “Let me through.” He growls darkly.

“Lem, we’re tracking her. Do you have a license plate number? Car description?”

“No! They hit before I saw them! They’ve got her Vic!” He cries trying to shove passed when Aceveda comes in. Lem’s eyes hit the floor and he steps against the wall.

“Lemansky, are you alright?” He asks, but Lem only nods. “We got a call about a woman across the street from Fi’s house who saw the car and the men.” Lem’s eyes shift up in hope, and Aceveda smiles and nods.

“Why was she randomly looking out the window?” Shane frowns.

“She wasn’t. She was listening to the commotion in her driveway. A tall blonde man and a small Mexican woman were yelling about her loving him when a green two-tone sedan rolls up, two guys -who match the photos- jump out, clock the big guy and take the girl. She put up a hell of a fight. They’ll have a few bruises. And she bit one of them in the arm.” He informs, Lem’s heart slamming against his ribs as he reaches for the paper in Aceveda’s hand. He’d seen the car parked down the street every day this week. He kicked himself. He should’ve reported the vehicle as interest.

“Okay! Let me go get her!” He fires, trying to shove through.

“Lem, these guys know what you look like. You could spook them and they could—“

“You’re saying I can’t go?” He hushes, feeling like someone just hit him with a bus. Shane frowns and pats his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Lem. It’s too risky.” Lem drops to the seat and his head falls into his hands.

“Tell her I’m sorry.” Lem whispers, grabbing his stuff and heading towards the door.

“Lem! Where you going?” Vic shouts.

“I’m going back to her house. I wanna be there when she gets there.” He retorts heading out the door without another word.

Twelve hours pass, Lem pacing her house without stopping. His eyes would land on the bedroom door to the room where they’d had mind-blowing sex. The couch, her sitting in his lap, cuddled gently against him; safe. She found safety in his arms. He felt the best when she was there, wrapped in his arms protected from the world.

“Lem! It’s Vic!” Vic shouts, hitting the door. Carefully, he opens the door, gun drawn, the tears on his face totally forgotten.

“Did you—“ she flies passed him and barrels into Lem. He hugs her tightly, pressing kisses to her forehead. “Christ. You okay? Did they hurt you? Did they hurt you, pretty girl?” He barks, hands quaking as they close around her jaw.

“I’m okay.” She mutters, grabbing his face and pressing a much needed kiss to his lips. Hugging tightly to his neck, she pile drives him into the couch, wrapping herself around him as much as she could.

“Hey, hey.” He tries to peel her off, embarrassed that everyone was watching her.

“What’s wrong?” She whispers, following his eyes to the people standing in th foyer looking on in shock. Feeling the heat in her cheeks, she looks to him for confidence aand found none.

“Of course. You were worried about her because you’re sleeping with her.” Shane snorts, shaking his head.

“It was once! Jesus Shane!”

“Yeah? Just like that sting op with the hookers?” Shane asks, brows raised. Lem pales, eyes avoiding hers.

“You’ve slept with other women?” She asks.

“It was for work.” He raises his hands in defense.

“Work? Just like Tigre? Just like me? I should have known!” She shrieks, shoving him through the door towards his bike.

“Pretty girl, you just have to understand-“

“You like to sleep with women. I’m not missing anything. Go home, puto.” She sniffles, shoving everyone out the door and shutting and locking it.

“Maybe I should stay here in case-“

“Go home, Lem. It’s over. They’re in custody.” He drones, handing Lem the helmet.

“I fucked it all up, Vic.”

“I told you. This west side story bull wasn’t gonna-“ He pops Shane in the mouth, hopping on his bike and heading to the bridge. He spent the rest of the ngiht there, listening to the water rush through the dam.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I fucked up! I know that! I just need a friend. I found my best friend. I found the woman I wanna spend my life with. She hates me though, thinks I’m some kind of puto. I just need a little help getting her to see that isn’t who I am.” He calls to no one.

She awoke with an awful headache, feeling the tears well in her eyes for a second. Flopping onto the couch with a blanket and a precooked egg sandwich, she turns on something to distract herself. Her phone slips through the cushions as it vibrates. Cursing, she digs through the cushions to find her phone, but her fingers tangle in a fabric that felt almost foreign. Pulling on it, as it came into her view, all she could do was cry more. It was Lem’s tank top. Pulling it to her nose, she inhales deeply, grinning to herself. He smelled so inviting, so warm and comfortable. Maybe she’d been too harsh on him. It wasn’t like she’d gone and accused him of cheating, because he hadn’t. He had a life before he met her, and she needed to understand that. With a huff, she sucks in one more deep breath before a knock made her jump. Wrapping her blanket tighter around herself, she swings open the door to find the owner of the tank top.

“Lem.” She whispers, taking a moment to soak him in. He hadn’t changed a bit, tall and super handsome.

“I’m really sorry. I was so goddamn worried about you that night that I came back here when they sent me home, if I had known how mad you’d be—“ she grabs him and pulls him into a kiss, deep and pure. Leading him through the door, she shuts, it, dropping the blanket to reveal a black lacy bra and a pair of pink lace panties.

“Lem, I’ve been having daydreams of this exact moment. Please, for fuck’s sake, make love to me and forget all that shit happened.” She growls, hopping into his arms as his lips devour her neck, leaving hickeys in their wake.

“Christ, pretty girl. I love you. I wanna protect you forever, if you’ll let me. I’m so sorr—“ her lips devour his, shutting him up. “Got it.” He murmurs against her lips as his teeth nip a hold of her panties, dragging them down her body. Flipping over, she sticks her ass way in the air for him with her head down.

“Baby, please.” She whimpers, grinding back against him.

“Goddamn,” he groans, unclipping the bra and shedding it as she turns quickly, licking a stripe from base to tip, taking his cock in her mouth, giving a couple wet licks before assuming the other position once more. As he slid into her, he took a handful of hair at the base of her neck, gripping and pulling back, a loud moan leaving her lips. Hard, heavy thrusts hitting her insides as a hand slips from her hip up over breasts and grips her throat, pulling her up to hold her body against him as he slammed into her relentlessly. Eliciting a couple deep groans, they hit their high, riding it out before flopping onto the couch together, completely sated.

“So Limon.”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“What were you saying?”

“Te quiero siempre, Chiquita Bonita.” He murmurs against her lips, pressing a warm, sweet kiss there. With tears in her eyes, she hugs him tightly.

“Te quiero.” She responds, kissing his lips in return.

[artificialqueens]

If you ever wanna be in love (I'll come around), Chapter Three (Branjie) - Athena2

Previously: Brooke pretended to be Vanessa’s fake wife Now: Vanessa is Brooke’s fake girlfriend, but they end up spending more time together

A/N: Thank you all so so much for the amazing feedback! It really makes my day and I’m so grateful for you all. I really hope you like this chapter, and I’d love any comments you have! Thank you 1,000 times to Writ for being the most amazing beta!

Vanessa floats into work the week after dinner. She and Brooke really did it. Her friends agreed, and she knows the other workers–and most importantly, Paul–don’t suspect a thing.

For the first time, she actually enjoyed a work function, and she can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with Brooke’s thigh touching hers at the cramped table, or her soft voice hovering by Vanessa’s ear all night. Either way, she should be spared from work events for a while. After Brooke’s mom’s party, their work is done.

But if Brooke is with her, maybe another dinner wouldn’t be so bad.

—

“Ready for thrifting tomorrow?” Vanessa asks A’keria first thing Friday morning, waiting for her groan. A’keria and Silky didn’t enjoy thrifting like she did, usually ended up stamping their feet by the door waiting for Vanessa to hurry up, but it’s always more fun to go with them than alone, modeling ridiculous outfits and comparing each other to ugly animal figurines.

“Me and Silk have the Saturday shift tomorrow, remember?”

“Oh. I forgot.”

A’keria must know she’s upset, because her expression softens. “We’ll go next week, okay?”

“Yeah. Maybe I won’t go tomorrow. It’s more fun with a group.”

“If you wanna go with someone, you could ask Brooke,” A’keria says, nonchalant even though just the mention of Brooke’s name makes Vanessa’s heart speed up.

“You want me to ask Brooke?” Vanessa prays A’keria doesn’t notice the red creeping into her cheeks.

“That’s what I said. I just think it makes sense, since she’s your fake wife and all. I know you had a good time with her at dinner.”

Vanessa shushes her, even if it’s just them in the children’s room. Asking Brooke makes sense, Vanessa admits, but she doesn’t know what the rules are, what their situation is. Sure, they had texted about Gilmore Girls and Vanessa is posing as Brooke’s girlfriend next weekend, but does that mean shopping is on the table? Does fake dating make them automatic friends, or are they still just acquaintances who smile awkwardly at each other at Nina’s parties?

Vanessa types a text to Brooke all in one go, heart pounding, and presses send before she can chicken out. The children’s room has its own office, and Vanessa makes several excuses to run inside and check her phone all morning, but there’s no reply. Brooke is probably working, she figures, and the thought of Brooke teaching kids or inspecting fossils makes her smile.

Just after her ladybug rock-painting activity, her phone lights up with a reply.

Brooke Lynn Hytes: Thrifting sounds fun. I can drive if you want.

Vanessa scrambles to reply, and just like that, she’s spending Saturday with Brooke.

—

Vanessa climbs in the passenger seat, and Brooke meets Vanessa’s sunny smile with one of her own.

Yesterday, she had just finished a planning meeting for the T-Rex exhibit opening when she saw a text from Vanessa inviting her to go thrifting if she wasn’t busy, and Brooke’s heart nearly stopped, discussions on layout and invitations flying out of her brain.

Sure, she was going to spend Saturday working on her speech for the opening, but she has weeks for that, and Nina’s been on her to take a break and not work so hard. Brooke knows she’s right; she’s almost molded to her desk chair at this point, in her office until the sun sets some nights, before continuing on her kitchen table in between bites of salad. A day with no work couldn’t hurt, and that fluttery feeling in her chest when she thinks of seeing Vanessa again isn’t bad either.

Vanessa grins as she settles in her seat. She’s wearing a huge black tie-dye Led Zeppelin shirt, and she sure can pull it off.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Vanessa says.

“Of course.” Brooke can tell from her excitement that thrifting must be something she loves, and her heart warms at the joy bursting from Vanessa. “You really like thrifting, huh?”

Vanessa blushes. “Yeah. It’s just fun. There’s so much cool stuff in there, and you never know what you’re gonna get.” She pauses, takes a breath. “Oh! There’s an ice cream place nearby, if you want to get some after.”

“Oh, sure. I love ice cream.” Brooke says, cheeks burning. As much as she loves ice cream, there’s the uncertainty of time with Vanessa, how they should interact. Most of dinner had been answering questions, a certain order to it all. What will they talk about without that structure? She’ll probably be so boring Vanessa will regret this whole day.

“Me too! It’ll be fun.” Vanessa’s confident and calm, like she senses Brooke’s nerves and wants to soothe them without making her uncomfortable, and Brooke is grateful. She takes a breath and lets Vanessa’s voice calm her.

The thrift shop looms in front of them, and Vanessa is bouncing like a little kid, out of her seat before the car stops and practically running to the door. They walk inside and Brooke gasps at the stuff covering every surface, a treasure chest come to life.

There’s shelves packed with dishes, vases, teacups, books, candles, and random trinkets. Posters and pictures spread along the walls like vines, with clothes racks and tables of more stuff forming a maze through the store.

“Isn’t this awesome, Brooke?” Vanessa looks up at her, eyes sparkling. She suddenly realizes just how tiny Vanessa is in flat sandals instead of heels like at dinner, and her stomach lurches.

“Yeah,” Brooke agrees. She follows Vanessa as she confidently heads straight for the books. There’s such power in Vanessa’s walk, and Brooke can’t stop watching her. She likes how wide Vanessa smiles when she finds something good, how she parades over to Brooke with a hat shaped like a pizza slice perched on her head and polka dot scarf around her neck, even how she insists on buying an ugly little pig figurine because she “felt bad for it.”

It’s not until Vanessa is checking out that Brooke realizes she was so busy watching Vanessa, she never looked at anything for herself.

—

The ice cream place is a tiny box with a large ice cream cone on the roof, and Brooke stares up at it as she and Vanessa sit at an umbrella-shaded picnic table in the back. Rainbow sprinkles scatter as they eat, Brooke with a waffle cone of strawberry cheesecake swirl while Vanessa makes her way through cookies and cream. They eat in silence, Brooke trying to think of something to say. In her experience, dinosaurs are boring to almost everyone over the age of eleven, so she needs something else to talk about. But what?

“It’s so weird eating ice cream during the day,” Brooke settles on. “My mom always made us have dinner first.” She flushes sunburn red, but Vanessa nods.

“It’s one of the only good things about being an adult,” Vanessa agrees. “We have bills and shit, but we can eat ice cream whenever we want.”

Brooke snorts and crunches on her cone. “So, um, how’s the library?”

Vanessa lets out a bark of laughter. “Sorry, it’s just—summer is wild in the children’s room.” She shakes her head and smiles. “Yesterday this lady showed up and I think she was a library card dealer. You know how magicians pull the scarf out of a hat? That was her with library cards, just pulling ‘em outta nowhere. The woman had six cards, all with different names! I don’t know how she got them all.”

“Maybe she goes around collecting them,” Brooke suggests, joining Vanessa in her laughs.

“She wouldn’t be the first,” Vanessa mutters, and Brooke wonders what goes on in that library.

“How long have you worked there?”

“Seven years,” Vanessa answers. “I never planned it, it just happened. I went to college for English, and the job opened right after I graduated. I usually did some awful retail job in the summer, so I applied as another option, and I’ve been there ever since. Never really thought of doing anything else.” She shrugs. “It gets wild, but I love it. There’s some kids who came in the first time when they were four or five, and I made their first cards, and they still come in and talk to me about school and stuff. It’s just nice, y’know?”

There’s real warmth and love in her eyes as she talks, and Brooke can picture her helping kids cut out a craft, or scanning shelves to find the perfect book just for them, and those early feelings she had of wanting to be closer to Vanessa swell like a balloon, eager to learn more about her.

“Yeah,” Brooke agrees. “It sounds like you’re really happy there.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa finishes her cone and leans in, stealing Brooke’s breath. “So. Dino girl. You ever dig up fossils?”

Brooke nods enthusiastically. “I’ve been on two digs in Montana. One was for an internship in grad school and one was after I became head of the museum department here. We didn’t find anything big, but we did get some triceratops fragments and baby hadrosaur bones.”

They had been some of the best weeks of her life. Not even the blinding sun or hours of back-aching digging that sent dust up her nose were enough to crush the thrill of brushing dirt aside to see what lay underneath, her pride and excitement in doing what she had dreamed of since she was a child clutching her dinosaur toys, twisting her mouth to say their names.

“That’s really cool,” Vanessa says, and Brooke doesn’t think she’s faking it. “Wait, did you dress like Indiana Jones? Tell me you at least wore the hat!”

“Indiana Jones is an archaeologist, first of all, and my hat had a much wider brim—“

“So that’s a yes.” Vanessa’s lips turn up into an adorable smirk.

“Yes.”

Vanessa squeals. “I want pictures!”

“Later,” Brooke promises.

Vanessa smiles, and Brooke smiles back, and she doesn’t want the day to end.

—

A’keria has a date that night, so Vanessa has the couch to herself and stretches her legs out on the newfound space. Her legs barely fill two cushions, admittedly, but still. She’s mindlessly flicking through channels when her phone buzzes. It’s from Brooke, just two words: As promised.

Vanessa opens the text in confusion, only to screech at the image on her screen: Brooke standing in the dirt with mountains behind her, in hiking boots and khaki pants, sleeves of her dust-streaked white shirt rolled up to reveal hands and forearms smeared with dirt. And on her head is a light brown hat, closer to that guy from Jurassic Park than Indiana Jones.

She zooms in and sees Brooke’s smile, so wide it takes over her whole face. She looks as happy and proud as Vanessa has ever seen anyone look, and her heart floods with warmth for Brooke, doing something she loves so much.

Vanessa: Nice hat. All you need is a whip to complete the look.

Vanessa: Btw, Jurassic Park is on the sci-fi channel.

Brooke: Bold of you to assume I’m not already watching it.

Vanessa laughs out loud.

Vanessa: Nerd.

Brooke: It’s so good! The special effects still hold up.

Vanessa: Nerd.

Brooke: Bookworm.

Vanessa snorts again. Obviously Brooke must have seen how fast she snatched up a new YA romance at the thrift store.

Vanessa: Dino Girl.

Vanessa: Enjoy your movie.

Vanessa turns to the sci-fi channel, watching the characters meet those long-neck dinos–she’ll have to ask Brooke their name–for the first time. Vanessa’s brother played the VHS tape until it wore out, and she spent years when she was little thinking a dinosaur would appear in their kitchen and pull her apart with its teeth. She hasn’t watched it in a while and she settles in, relishing the feeling of watching the movie with Brooke, like they’re occupying the same space and sharing the same experience even in separate apartments.

And maybe she pretends Brooke is there with her.

—

The week goes by, and Vanessa begins to sweat over dinner with Brooke’s family. You’re not really dating, it doesn’t matter, Silky assures her, but it doesn’t work. Meeting a girlfriend’s family has always taken her smooth confidence and stomped on it, making her cower under stares and decide which parts of her to show and which to hide. She’s never able to be herself, the whole thing like a formal job interview where the smallest stumble could ruin her.

Vanessa knows all too well how judgy people can be, and though Brooke is kind, there’s no telling what her family’s like. Vanessa wonders if tiny things like Brooke’s punctuality and neatness hint at strict parents.

Vanessa wants to be as good as Brooke was, to win her Oscar for the role of fake girlfriend like Brooke did for fake wife. She wants to show Brooke’s family just how smart and funny and charming she is, show them she’s perfect for Brooke even if it’s not a real relationship. And she really, really wants to spend more time with Brooke.

They’ve been texting more and more, Vanessa unleashing triple- and sometimes quadruple-texts, which she only does with friends. They’ve talked about their pets and demanded pictures, Vanessa melting like butter at Brooke’s two cats curled up sleeping together and insisting she has to meet them someday. She leaps every time her phone buzzes, eager for these glimpses into Brooke’s life, even just pieces of her workday. But she still wants more, wants to hear Brooke’s laugh and see her smile, and she asks Brooke for coffee the day before her run as fake girlfriend.

“Should I bring anything?” Vanessa asks as soon as they sit down with their coffees.

“Just you. Seriously,” Brooke insists as Vanessa starts protesting. “My mom never wants anything, so my sister and I just get her knitting stuff and dinner gift cards. If you bring anything, she’ll ask me why I didn’t tell you not to bring anything.” She rolls her eyes and Vanessa laughs.

“No presents, got it. What should I wear?”

Brooke shrugs. “You can wear anything. It’s nothing fancy.”

“I know, and I know we’re not really dating, I just…I don’t want them to think I’m not good enough for you.”

Vanessa cringes at the memory of visiting her last girlfriend’s parents, the night woven of harsh stares and rude comments, the girl’s family looking down on Vanessa for everything from her bright floral dress to her library job. Vanessa cried on the way home and ended things a day later. She doesn’t want to assume the same of Brooke’s parents, but she also doesn’t want to spend another night hiding in the bathroom, staring at her hair, her face, her clothes, wondering what part of her wasn’t enough.

Brooke’s eyes are kind as they meet hers. “They’d never think that, I promise,” Brooke says softly. She pauses, then adds, “And neither would I.”

She’s so sincere it gives Vanessa a lump in her throat, knowing that Brooke would never think less of her.

Vanessa nods shakily. “Okay. Maybe I’ll do a sundress,” she says, trying to brush off how touched she is.

“You look good in everything,” Brooke says, staring into her coffee.

“You too,” Vanessa says, equally avoiding eye contact. Then she smirks. “Even that safari hat.”

“I should’ve never shown you that picture,” Brooke groans, smiling too much to be mad.

They finish their coffees, and Vanessa can’t wait until tomorrow.

—

Brooke’s parents live half an hour away, and Vanessa spends the morning whipping up the perfect playlist.

Playlists are special to her, back from when her brother taught her to make CD mixes of her and her friends’ favorite songs. She’s moved beyond burning CD’s, but playlists are still special, an act of love for whoever she makes it for—hunting for perfect songs, reading lyrics and seeing how they fit, making each song count. A way of saying I know you with songs instead of words.

With Brooke, it’s a challenge of sorts, one she wants to succeed at. She wants to pick perfect songs they’ll both like, filling the car with a movie-worthy soundtrack and laughs and heartfelt confessions. A playlist with songs they’ll hear in a grocery store sometime and instantly be snapped back to this day.

She spends so long on the playlist that she has to rush getting ready, brave enough to wear her bright pink dress and matching lipstick. She runs to Brooke’s car and is so distracted by the amount of soft-skinned legs Brooke’s shorts show off that it takes three tries to buckle her seatbelt.

“You look really good in pink,” Brooke says.

Vanessa turns the shade of her dress. “Thanks.”

Brooke heads down the street, reaching for the radio, but Vanessa swats her hand away. “Ah-ah-ah! I made a playlist.”

Brooke’s eyes light up as Vanessa gets the AUX cord going, and she hums approvingly as Rihanna blasts through the speakers. They ride in silence, swaying along to the beat as they leave the city and buildings are replaced with open fields.

“So, um, we don’t have to do anything special relationship-wise,” Brooke begins. “My parents won’t know we’re faking. They’re not exactly…observant. I mean, I had a crush on Willow from Buffy the Vampire Slayer for years and they had no idea.”

Vanessa snorts. “Yeah, you seem like a Willow girl. I always liked Buffy the best. Got a thing for blondes, I guess.” She realizes what she’s just said and almost slams her head into the window. She needs another topic to gloss it over…

“So they’re okay with you being a lesbian?” she blurts, cringing harder at her damn mouth. Maybe she should just jump out of the car. “Shit, sorry, you don’t have to–”

“It’s okay.” Brooke sighs. “Yeah, they’re okay with it. I didn’t tell them until I was 20. They always want us to be happy, but they kind of…take a while with stuff they don’t expect?” Brooke opens her mouth and closes it, like she’s trying to find the right words. “They weren’t thrilled about me playing with dinosaurs when I was little because ‘dinosaurs are for boys’. They tried to get me to play with other stuff and I cried. Then they realized how happy I was with dinosaurs and let it go. It was kind of the same when I came out. They were quiet, then my mom cried and said if I was happy, she was happy.”

Vanessa resists the urge to grab Brooke’s hand and soothe those feelings between her words, to calm tiny-Brooke’s fears that she wouldn’t get to play with her favorite toys and older-Brooke’s worries that her parents wouldn’t accept her.

“I’m glad they’re okay with it,” she says instead. “And I’m glad you’re okay,” she adds, hoping Brooke knows Vanessa means it, understands that she would’ve comforted her if she had the chance.

“Yeah.” Brooke pauses. “What about your family? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Vanessa shrugs. “It wasn’t really a big thing. I was 14, me and my mom were in the car and I kinda shouted I like girls at her. She said she knew and it didn’t change things. My dad isn’t really emotional, so he just kinda shrugged and went on with it. He’s good though. My brother too.”

“I’m happy it was okay for you,” Brooke says, soft and genuine.

The playlist transitions into Lorde, and they talk about work for the rest of the drive, pulling into a cheery yellow house before Vanessa knows it. Brooke opens her door and two screaming kids run down the driveway, tackling her legs.

“My sister’s kids,” Brooke explains before hugging them. “This is Sam,”–she nods to a tiny blond boy—“and Sophie”–she nudges the pig-tailed girl.

“You’re Aunt Brookie’s girlfriend,” Sophie says, flashing a gap-toothed grin.

It throws Vanessa, hearing it like that, even from a six-year-old. For just a second, the thrill of the word pools in her stomach, the way it always did when she was called someone’s girlfriend, and she forgets that things aren’t real, that she and Brooke aren’t really in love.

“I am,” she says, and it doesn’t feel like lying. “I’m Vanessa.”

“Let’s go inside.” Brooke sets the kids down and they tear inside.

Brooke turns to Vanessa, apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I haven’t brought anyone to a family thing in a while. My mom, she’s…she’s worried about me being alone since I was a kid. Everyone wants me to date again, even the kids ask. I’ve tried, but no one clicks.”

Vanessa shakes her head, daring to stroke Brooke’s arm just once, to soothe her. “My mom’s the same, don’t worry. And my brother’s kids would’ve done the same thing. Except those demons would’ve knocked you over.”

Brooke giggles, and it gives Vanessa a little rush, knowing she calmed Brooke. Brooke leads Vanessa into a cozy kitchen of people obviously trying to act natural despite their excitement.

“You must be Vanessa,” a woman she assumes is Brooke’s mom says.

“That’s me,” Vanessa answers, and she’s pulled into hugs by Brooke’s parents. It’s funny–Vanessa can’t see much of Brooke in their faces, but Brooke holds herself just like her father, has the same warm smile as her mother, tiny things that prove Brooke belongs here. Brooke’s sister and brother-in-law are next, both thrilled to meet her.

Vanessa pulls out the tulips she hid in her purse and gives them to Brooke’s mom. “Don’t blame Brooke, she said not to,” Vanessa says quickly. “But I wanted to.” Vanessa’s mother wouldn’t dream of going to someone’s house empty-handed, and it’s rubbed off on her.

Brooke’s mom happily puts them in a vase, and Vanessa knows she really likes them.

Vanessa sits with Brooke on a squishy couch, skin tingling where her knee meets Brooke’s. Brooke around her family is… different. She’s self-conscious at first, fidgeting with her shorts and glancing at Vanessa, making sure she’s okay. But Vanessa smiles at Brooke and she slowly loosens up, a rope unraveling bit by bit. She helps her mom in the kitchen, talks about work with her sister, even calms the kids when they start terrorizing the place. It’s a new side of her around her family, one Vanessa is grateful to see.

“How did you two meet?” Brooke’s mom asks.

She and Brooke glance at each other.

“Our friend Nina introduced us,” Brooke says. They’d decided to stay as close to the truth as possible. “Vanessa works with her at the library.”

“Oh, you work in a library?” Brooke’s mom asks eagerly. “Do you like it?”

Vanessa flinches, because this is how it started with her ex-girlfriend’s family. Just an innocent work question. Then it was do you even need a degree for that and soon she was in an interrogation about her education and family, sinking into her chair and burning with embarrassment. But Brooke’s mom is smiling, interested rather than judging, and Vanessa unclenches a jaw she didn’t know was clenched.

“I love it there, actually. I do crafts with the kids, and we have our summer carnival coming up…” she keeps it light, figuring Brooke’s sweet family doesn’t need to know the amount of dirty diapers patrons leave behind.

They move to dinner, and everyone is so calm and polite, it’s almost… Strange, in a way. Vanessa’s family shouts over each other and laughs loud enough to be heard outside, and she’s never wanted it any other way. Here, someone asks her about work, or what she does for fun, and everyone is quiet enough to listen. It’s her own little audience, one she doesn’t have to scream for, and Vanessa turns up the charm. She compliments Brooke’s mom on the food and has them all in tears over the non-disgusting library stories.

Vanessa is so deep in the moment, in how natural it is, that she’s distractedly planning a weekend for Brooke to meet her family when it hits her that this isn’t real. Brooke won’t meet her parents or play with her nieces and nephew or devour her mom’s chicken and rice, because this isn’t real, and everything she ate becomes a rock in her stomach.

Vanessa offers to help with the dishes, but apparently Brooke’s politeness runs in the family, because they won’t let a guest clean. Instead, she stays with the kids and finds herself in a deep conversation about Legos with Sam. It’s better than conversations she’s had with adults, if she’s honest.

There’s coffee and a damn good chocolate cake and more hugs, and then she’s back in the car with Brooke.

“Are you okay?” Brooke asks. “They can ask a lot of questions.”

Vanessa waves her off. “They’re fine, Brooke. I’ve been asked worse, believe me.”

“Well, thank you again for this. It was fun.” Brooke’s voice is honey-sweet and velvet-soft, and it sends a shiver down Vanessa’s spine.

“It was no problem. Your family’s really nice.” This is it, she realizes. The agreement is over. But she needs more time with Brooke, needs it like air. “Hey, would you want to come to the library carnival with me in August? My boss liked you a lot. There’s no rides or anything, ‘cause that’s some legal shit, but we’ll have games and food and stuff.”

“I’d love to,” Brooke says earnestly, and something settles in Vanessa’s heart. Some sort of lightness, of joy, carried on the promise of being with Brooke again.

Vanessa’s foot brushes something, and she peeks and notices her lipstick fell out of her purse. She reaches to pick it up, then stops. Because surely Brooke, polite to a fault, will make it a point to return it, and then Vanessa can see her that much sooner.