#anyway i finished de three days ago and. yeah. i love it.

[haharuspex]

this is what kim kitsuragi would do he told me that himself

[amethystjewel01]

RoseJewel🌹 Pocky Day💎 Oneshot

Finally finished this!!! God I'm late but it's here!!! Hopefully things are written coherent enough, I haven't written something like this in a long time, especially for twst. Anyway enjoy!

Edit: Forgot to add that there isn't any warnings, the most that happens is a kiss

——————

“Heyyy birthday bestie!~” A voice called out to Yuuna, surprising them. They turned their head over to see a certain carrot top third year.

“Oh, Cater! What’s up?” They asked, adjusting their arms as they held a small pile of books. As the male approached, he could see the titles mentioning some kind of magic theory. The male then soon swinged an arm around their shoulders, leaning close.

“Coming back to study with ADeuce again?” He asked, smiling wide. Yuuna looked away, hoping their cheeks weren’t turning red with a flush. Unknowing that the male could already see, inwardly snickering at how cute they looked.

“No…I’m actually getting tutored by Riddle.” They explained, muttering quietly as they could see the male smirk at them from the corner of their eye. Yuuna still had trouble with fully understanding the theory of magic, mainly because of their otherworldly origin. While Yuuto had tried to explain it to them with Yuuki, they pinkette just never grasped the concept. And because of this lack of understanding, their grades had been slipping, so they had asked their red-headed classmate to help them. This is what led to them standing at the entrance of Heartslabyul with Cater questioning them.

“Oh~ I see.” He responded, his face similar to that of a cat. “Well Riddle would be the best! He even helped me with studying a bit ago!”

“Yeah? He’s not…strict right?” They asked nervously, having been slightly dreading the possibility. While they knew that the dorm leader had become more lenient after his overblot, there were still times when the male would relapse.

“Sometimes,” Cater began, tapping his phone against his cheek in thought. But he soon smiled in reassurance once he saw the other’s nervous fidget in his hold. “B-But it’s mainly for your own benefit! Trust me, it’ll be really helpful.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” They sighed, adjusting their arms again as they realized their arms were beginning to grow tired. “I better go then, don’t want to be late.”

They walked off a bit, forcing the male to let his arm fall. He looked at their back for a moment, before coming to a realization when he remembered the weight in his back pocket.

“Wait!” The carrot top male suddenly shouted, scaring Yuuna. They squeaked in fright, almost dropping their books from jumping. They sent a nasty glare towards his way in anger, earning a sheepish grin in response. “I was just going to give you this, since it’s that day and all.”

He quickly takes an unopened box out of his pocket and places it on top of Yuuna’s books. “Sam was selling these for a discount, and I knew how much my birthday bestie loves anything sweet.”

“Huh?” They looked down to study the box, perking up once they recognized the treat. “Pocky? I haven’t had that in ages.”

“Yeah!”

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘that day’? What day is it?” They suddenly asked, confusion swirling in their amethyst orbs. The male only blinked in response, confused at their confusion.

“Pocky day?”

“Oh, cool.” They responded shrugging, glancing up at the sky in thought. “I don’t really pay attention to those kinds of things unless it’s a major thing my family celebrated. Like Dia de los Muertos or Christmas.”

“You’re kidding!” He exclaimed, staring at them in shock as he processed their words. “So you don’t-”

“There you are.” Both jump at the sudden third voice, causing Yuuna to actually drop their books this time thanks to the carrot top bumping into them. All three flinched at the sound of the hard covers hitting the stone path. Cater and Yuuna immediately turned their heads to meet the steel grey eyes of Riddle. “You’re five minutes late, I almost thought you had gotten ‘lost’ at the hedgehog pen again.”

“Th-That was one time!” Yuuna almost screeched in embarrassment, their cheeks flushing a bright red. Soon they quickly knelt down to pick up the fallen books, hiding their face as they mumbled, “I needed a break from Ace and Deuce okay? Their arguments were giving me a headache, Yuuki wasn’t helping either.”

“Right.” A shorter male sighed, bending down to help the Ramshackle dorm leader pick up their studying materials. “In any case, at least this time I don’t have to drag you away from the pen.”

“They looked so sad! I didn’t want to leave them!”

Cater glances between the two as they bickered over the pinkette’s fondness for the small mammals. While he had known of the two sharing a class he didn’t have a big idea on how the two interacted, until now. Without realizing he began to analyze the small quirks each of the dorm leaders exhibit, Yuuna refusing to meet eyes with Riddle and flushing whenever they were close to, Riddle’s lips quirked up slightly into a small smirk as he teased them. It was clear to the carrot top that something was brewing between the two, something he wasn’t sure how to feel.

But he quickly pushed away those emotions and forced a smile on his face. Once the two stood back up with an even amount of books the male bent down to pick up the forgotten box of biscuit sticks to place it on the pinkette’s pile. “Can’t forget these!”

“Oh thanks man.” Yuuna quietly said, adjusting their grip. “Would be a good study snack.”

“Hm?” The Heartslabyul dorm leader leaned over a bit to get a good look at the pocky box. “Ah those…I remember seeing several dorm members talking about these.”

“Oh yeah, these were my favorites back home.” The pinkette said, smiling softly. “I remember they had all kinds of flavors, but these seem to be the classic chocolate ones. I’m sure you would love the strawberry ones.”

“I see.” The redhead hummed, before quickly picking up his pace. “But we can discuss after we study.”

“R-Right!” Yuuna attempts to catch up to the male, turning their head back at Cater. “Thanks for these again!”

————————————————————

“So that’s what you mean, I think I get it now!” Yuuna said, smiling as they quickly wrote down notes into their notebook.

After an hour of the redhead explaining to the pinkette about the theory of magic, the two finally found a breakthrough of how the magic-less person could fully understand the concept. Riddle sighs, looking over their shoulder to silently review their notes.

“How come your dorm member didn’t explain this to you?” He asked, arching a brow in question. “Surely someone of his capabilities could have helped you.”

“He tried actually.” They responded, slouching against the small couch within the redhead’s room. They raised their arms up to stretch their limbs, letting out a high pitch whine in the process. “He had a hard time fully explaining it though, probably because he never had thought about it before.”

“That would make sense.” The redhead hummed, thinking over their words. “It would be hard to explain it if it’s something you could inherently do since young.”

“Yeah, plus my only knowledge on it coming from fictional media back in my world where there’s different systems to it depending on the media made me think it was more complicated then how you explained it.” They explained, finishing stretching before they perked up in realization. Leaning over they grabbed the forgotten box of pocky and ripped it open. “But since i understand it better we can take a break!”

“We haven’t even gotten over how you could implement the theory.” Riddle huffed, eyes narrowing at Yuuna as he watched them take a stick out and nibble on it.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you could use a break too since you basically had to explain it to me like I was a child.” They responded, smiling cheekily in jest. That only earned an eye roll in response, making them snicker. They gestured the box towards him. “Want one?”

“Hmm, is it just a chocolate covered biscuit stick?” He asked, taking one carefully to inspect it. “I never really had a chance to have one.”

“Huh- oh right.” The pinkette looked the other way, flashes of seeing the male’s childhood flooding their vision for a bit. They never had told anyone they saw these, but made their stomach drop every time they had to almost view the trauma someone went through firsthand. “Well I’m sure most are gonna take Sam’s entire stock since Cater told me he’s selling them on a discount.”

“I would buy them all today myself honestly, what with the discount..” Yuuna snickered, grabbing another pocky stick to eat. “But lord knows all the looks I would get from everyone.”

“Why?” The male asked, confused. “You’re not one who normally cares what people think of how much sweets you eat.”

“Oh no,” They sat up, looking around a bit before they leaned over to the surprised male to whisper. “It’s because most of the boys would start thinking I’m trying to get kisses from someone.”

The redhead quickly flushed, backing away as he screamed, “What?!”

He then starts to cough, not realizing a bit of the treat in his mouth had been swallowed. He drinks some tea to stop his choking, feeling the pinkette roughly pat his back in comfort. “Why would someone think that?!”

“Oh, you don’t know? Makes sense.” They mutter, taking another pocky stick in their mouth. “It’s because of the pocky game.”

“The…pocky game?”

“Oh boy.” Yuuna sighed, ignoring the way their heart raced as they began to explain. “It’s basically a way for people to get a kiss from their crush or partner. You both take an end of a treat in your mouth and eat the stick until you…”

“I-I see…” 

Yuuna couldn’t see the male’s face as they had turned their head away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. So they had not caught onto his flushed face as he glanced away.

“Yeah, most explain it in a way of a chicken game. ‘Whoever pulls away is the loser’ kind of thing.” They continued, their hands gripping onto their vest a bit. “But really it’s just a way to get a kiss, though I have to admit it’s a cute concept.”

“I can’t say I fully understand it.” Riddle replied, coughing to push down the flush on his cheeks. “But it’s not a terrible thing, most couples would do various silly things like that.”

“Exactly,” The pinkette then gulped, trying to ignore their still racing heart. They were so focused on trying to calm it down they hardly had time to stop the next few words flowing out. “I mean I definitely wouldn’t mind playing that game if it was with the person I like.”

“The person you like?” The male repeated, looking over at them.

“Um!” They quickly coughed, surprised. “I just mean- like! Um…Let’s move on!”

“S-Sorry.” Riddle quietly apologized, glancing away for a moment. “I was just a bit curious, since I never would think you would see anyone here in a romantic sense.”

“W-Well I do!” Their cheeks burned red, their thoughts trying to keep away from their crush on the redhead. “But that’s not important! L-Let’s just get back to studying!”

They grabbed a book from the table, bringing it to their face to block it from the other’s view. They wouldn’t have noticed the way the male’s eyes darkened, an unknown feeling beginning to rise in his chest. While he knew that there were clearly others that also have a fondness for the pinkette, he didn’t even consider that the pinkette would also have a fondness for someone. But instead of pushing the subject, the male only sighed and continued the study session.

After another hour of taking notes and explaining, the two decided to take another break. Though Yuuna could only pout as they stared at the empty box of pocky on the table.

“Man, I wish Cater had given me more.” They whined, mumbling as they nibbled on one of the cookies Riddle had set up for them. “Not that these cookies aren’t good, pocky just brought some nostalgia.”

“You don’t have to explain.” He only responded, his face blank as he stared into his tea cup. The pinkette noticed and frowned, their mind trying to think of what to say. But before they could, a knock resounded from the door, making the two dorm leaders focus on the familiar mop of orange peeking into the room.

“Still studying I see!” Cater pointed out, smiling wide as he entered the room. His eyes were quick to notice that instead of sitting across from the ramshackle member with his desk chair, his dorm leader was seated on the same couch as them. Grinning, he looked over at Yuuna. “Hopefully Riddle here hasn’t worn you down yet.”

“Oh no, we’re taking our second break actually.” The pinkette responded, smiling back at the male. They missed the surprise look on the third year’s face as they grabbed another cookie to eat, and also the look of exchange between the carrot top male and the redhead dorm leader. “Hey Cay, you got any more boxes of pocky?”

“Huh? Oh yeah! I bought some more for you!” The green eyed male said, tossing another box towards them. They failed at the catch, earning a laugh from the elder. Both had missed the frown on Riddle’s face that pulled down for s split section at the interaction before subtly shaking his head to push away the unsettling feeling from earlier rising back up. Luckily Cater had tossed him a box as well, snapping him out of his quick thoughts. “I got for you too Riddle! They had more flavors.”

The male scanned over the box he barely caught, reading over the text that spelt out it was strawberry flavored. His eyes narrowed, resisting the familiar voice in his head to check the nutrition label. The voice screaming in his thoughts made him grip the box tighter, something only the pinkette noticed for a moment. They gently pressed a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Yes, thank you.”

“Of course! Anything for our dorm leader!” Cater said, forcing a smile onto his lips as he noticed the silent interaction. “Now I’ll stop bothering you two. After all, you did ask for no one to interrupt you two, ciao!”

“Huh? Why’d you ask that?” Yuuna asked as soon as the third year left, tilting their head as they looked over at the male.

“You mentioned how easily you can become distracted.” He explained, purposefully not meeting their curious gaze as he poured more tea into his cup. “Normally I tutor someone in the common room, but knowing you it would be easy for anyone to walk in and make you lose your train of thought.”

“That’s fair.” They responded, not at all offended at his assumption. He wasn’t wrong in the slightest, as they normally had to have Yuuki and Yuuto distract Grim to prevent him from interrupting their self study sessions. “Luckily we already were on a break when Cay walked in, and he brought more pocky!”

They hummed happily as they opened their box, making small noises of excitement once they realized which flavor it was. “Oh shit! This is oreo!”

“Language.”

“Whatever, I having fucking oreo pocky!” They stuck their tongue out at the huffing male, childishly grinning in joy. “That’s like the best!”

“And most likely the sweetest.” He sighed, shaking his head a bit as he heard them practically devour several sticks in a row. “Don’t eat those so fast!”

“But they’re so good!” They whined, not at all caring how the crumbs fell onto their lap. They did notice the male’s grimace and chuckled sheepishly in apology. But soon they swallowed the last in their mouth, taking a sip of tea to wash it down. “You can’t fault me, they’re so tiny too. You know I’ve eaten a whole big donut in one-”

“I do not need to hear about that!” Riddle exclaimed, halfheartedly glaring at them as they laughed at his playful frustration. “Honestly I’m surprised you haven’t choked.”

“So is everyone who knows me and my antics.” They chuckled, before gesturing their pocky box at him. “Try it! You’ll see that I’m right.”

“There isn’t any left.” He pointed out, making the pinkette look inside in shock. They hadn’t realized they had eaten all of the treats that quickly, causing them to dramatically groan as they let themselves slouch onto the couch in such a fashion that they began to almost slide off the cushion.

“Noooooo!”

“That’s what happens when you eat them too quickly.” Riddle huffed, shaking his head at their dramatics. Though he couldn’t hold back the small smile that crossed his face as he watched them ungracefully fall onto the carpet. He didn’t even have to look to know that their gaze immediately settled onto the box still in his hand. “No.”

“But-”

“No, Cater got these for me.” He said, smirking at their playful glare and pout. “You already ate yours.”

“Aw come on, you never even had these before!”

“All the more reason why I shouldn't share with a glutton like you.”

“Just one!” They had shoved a finger in his face to emphasize their point, causing the male to jump back into the couch. They pulled their hand back in apology, realizing they had gotten too excited. “I can at least ask for one! I like the strawberry ones too!”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t ask.”

“Can I have one?” They asked in a deadpan tone.

“No.”

“Bruh!’ The two had begun to laugh at this point, something the pinkette didn’t entirely expect. While the redhead was used to their antics in class they usually never had joked around like this with him, instead saving it for someone else like Ace or the other ramshackle members. But they were glad to see that the male wasn’t as stuck up as he was during their first few classes, having now taken a subtle teasing approach that was encouraged by their own challenging nature.

Riddle had begun to open his box of pocky with a smug look on his face, keeping eye contact with the other dorm leader as he bit into the biscuit. The two stayed silent as the male continued to eat one in an agonizing slow manner, amused as he could see their face scrunch up into a deep frustrated pout. To prolong the, albeit weird, standoff he had taken occasional sips of his tea in between the treats. But soon it all came to a head when he picked up the last stick, childishly waving it around. 

Though that allowed the pinkette to rise from the floor and quickly grab the treat, surprising the male as they rushed towards the male’s bed to create distance. They cackled in victory, their face very smug as they watched the male sputter. They had chosen to sit down on the plush comforter of the redhead’s bed, crossing their legs as they began to mimic the male’s previous action of swinging the biscuit stick. “Hah!”

“Give that back!”

Yuuna tapped their chin with the stick for a moment, pretending to consider before grinning mischievously. They placed the surprisingly unbroken biscuit on their lips and they grinned at him. “Don’t think so~”

“You-” The redhead glared at them as they snickered while swirling the treat around in their mouth without actually eating it.

“It’s already in my mouth, unless you want to bite the part that isn’t~” They teased, a look of challenge in their eyes. They could see his face turn red from their audacity, making them smile wider. They never really expected the male to do anything, believing the way this scenario would only end up with them being collared and forced to buy him another box.

But to their shock, the male had stood up abruptly and stomped towards them. They froze at his actions, trying to think of a possible escape plan. But as soon as they took their eyes off of him, they felt his gloved fingers loop under their silk choker and pull their head towards his. They squeaked at the sensation, meeting his fiery glare as he bit down on the biscuit. The force had broken it in a slight mess of crumbs, but neither noticed as they stared into each other's eyes. The male was munching on the treat in smug victory, before freezing once he realized the two’s current position. Neither said anything, unable to process how they ended up in the situation they currently were in. 

Yuuna was as red as a tomato as they tried to ignore the way their heart was beating against their chest rapidly, hoping the male couldn’t hear it. Their hands had unconsciously gripped onto the comforter below, their knuckles would’ve been seen turning white if they weren’t wearing their gloves. They could only sit there in frozen silence, not knowing what to say or do that wouldn’t make things more awkward. 

Meanwhile Riddle was no better, as his thoughts began to scream over his rash actions. He could almost hear that older feminine voice scream in rage about how inappropriate he acted in the moment, chastising him on how he potentially made whatever feelings Yuuna had for him plummet. He quickly removed his hand from the pinkette’s choker, muttering an apology as he quickly swallowed down the sweet treat. 

But before he could step back to try and apologize further, he felt the pinkette grab onto his bowtie and pull, crashing his lips onto theirs. Both had jumped in shock at the contact, both surprised by the pinkette’s actions. They didn’t even know when they had moved their hand, nor when the sudden urge to kiss the Heartslabyul dorm leader had overtaken their thoughts. And when they thought about letting go and groveling at the male’s feet for forgiveness, they felt him return the sudden passion in the liplock. Neither moved as they soaked in the warm feeling of kiss, each of their heartbeats pounding within their ears.

After a few moments the two pulled away, gasping in breaths of air as they realized neither breathed at all for those few moments. They couldn’t look each in the eye as Riddle stood up, having been forced to bend down a bit from the pinkette’s grip, coughing into his fist to quell the bright flush on his face. He tried to sputter out a few words, before Yuuna suddenly stood up.

“I…” Unable to say anything else, they rushed out the door. Their hands covered their flushed cheeks as they let their flight instinct take over for now. Once they reached outside the dorm building, they hid behind a rose bush and screamed into their hands. They don’t think they could face Riddle again after that, though they weren’t gonna complain how nice the kiss was.

————————————————————

“Yo Riddle how-” Cater stopped for a moment, blinking as he saw the dorm leader just standing in the middle of his now empty room. The third year could barely see the redhead’s ears flushed red, along seeing his whole body shake. Though he wasn’t sure of what, the carrot top hoped it wasn’t rage. “Uh, you good? Where’s Yuuna?”

“I-I’m fine! W-We just ended our session.” Cater could hear the tremble in the younger’s voice, still not fully able to pinpoint the emotion behind it.

“Oh, but their-”

“I’ll return those to them later!” The dorm leader shouted, slamming the door in the other’s face. After locking the door to make sure no one else would barge into his room, he slid down the door as he groaned into his hands. This was certainly a predicament he could never have thought to find himself in, especially with someone he had begun to pine for since his overblot. And as much as it made him flustered, he couldn’t help but remember how nice it felt.

[shiny-jr]

holy moley i finished your charlamagne de vil fic today and WOWZERS IT WAS AMAZING! i was on the edge of my seat almost the whole time! you wrote him so charming and cool and cunning and EVIL! OMG SO EVIL. the ending way so sad :( i'm still reeling but i like sad endings too! also holy crap you write lots and lots! how do you do it? dozens of pages, is quite the feat. congrats on your story telling ability! it's truly a gift ^u^

Thank you so much! I think I mentioned it before, but writing for that story was very enjoyable. Except I only got stuck on the last two or three chapters, but as you can tell, I made it past that. And yeah, actually, for my personal stories I usually write neutralish endings with a hint of bad ending, if that makes sense? Honestly, I don't know how I used to write that much. It seems like these days it takes a lot longer to write that much stuff. A few days ago I was wondering how younger me managed to write up to twenty pages a day and now I'm lucky if I can write one page. Anyways, thank you very much for reading, I'm glad the story was enjoyable!

I know most of my followers on Tumblr don't read on Quotev, but if anyone is interested. Here are some completed one shots, specials, stories? That I'm not completely disappointed in.

-> BUTTONS. Summary: [ Yandere!Husband x Reader ] When a young woman moves with her husband, Kage, to a brand new environment, she begins to feel neglected by her busy spouse, lonely with the lack of friends, and miserable in this new home. In her despair, a mysterious button-eyed man named Kade, who looks exactly like Kage, insists that he is her other husband. Kade offers her all the attention, love, and gifts her heart could desire but he hides a darker purpose.

-> THE DEVIL. Summary: [ Yandere!Designer x Reader ] As a young woman, you were always out-shined by your dearest friend, Charlemagne De Vil. He was a genius with awe-inspiring brilliance. There was nothing he couldn't obtain with his overwhelming wealth. At the snap of his finger, he could have whatever he wished. However, Charlemagne always longed for more than just a simple friendship. So when the dalmation puppies in your care go missing, and you are the one he cannot have, he would be willing to pay great amounts to have what he wanted.

-> MAROONED. Summary: [ Yandere!Monster x Reader ] There is an island full of crime that remains an enigma to the outside world, for anyone who visits mysteriously goes missing. Some believe the island is hiding a horrible curse. When a young photographer who is barely scraping by is offered a job at traveling to the mysterious island to capture photos for a huge sum of money she desperately needed, she accepts. Eventually she is left marooned on the small island in the middle of the biggest ocean. There she eventually discovers the cause of the disappearing people, the terrible “curse” on the island: a man that can transform into a dark monster that prowls the island, killing any intruders. 

[captain-mcdavid]

alternate ending - pt.1

it’s been two years... josh and y/n have moved on and started new lives. but what happens when they find themselves in the same city working side by side? can they move past their previous games and reconnect? or will old habits die hard?

word count: 4.9k

smut: yes | no

warnings: swearing, alcohol

“Oh my god, please Thomas.” You groan, “Please, can you just be serious for one second. One second!” 

He raises his hands in defeat, “Okay, fine.” 

“Thank you,” You sigh, “Now go.” 

“Wait, what am I supposed to say again?” He asks, and you and the videographer share a look before you roll your eyes. 

“Bienvenue à nouveau, fans des habs.” You remind him. “On three, okay?” He nods, and you count down, smiling when it finally goes off without a hitch. “Alright now one more time, in English and then we can all go home.” 

He nods, and then shoots you a wink. You shake your head at him, counting up to three for the last time.

“Welcome back, habs fans!” Thomas says, and Ted, your videographer smiles.

“Done.” He turns off the camera, and you give him a pat on the back.

“We really appreciate you coming in Thomas,” You say, “Thanks again.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.” He smirks, and then he heads out.

“Alright, Ted. I’ll see you soon,” You say, gathering your things. “Have a good night.”

With that you wave and head out of the arena. Setting your things in the front seat of your Range Rover, you grin, taking a minute to admire your new car. This was something that would have taken you five years to save up for with the pay at your old job.

It’s kind of ironic, where you were two years ago to where you are now... You didn’t like your job back in Ohio but you couldn’t say you ever saw yourself coming back to Canada, let alone working for an NHL team. 

You thought you had it all figured out back in Columbus. But after your life took a nose dive you realized you really didn’t. A fresh start was what you needed, and luckily with your vast experience in media, you were qualified for a position that Seth recommended to you. A position as head of media operations for the Montreal Canadiens. 

You were weary at first, because why would you want to work in the NHL after you had a huge falling out with one of the players, but the more thought you gave it, the better the offer seemed. It was in Montreal, one of the most beautiful cities in the world, the pay was double what you were getting in Ohio, and it would be a lot more fun.

Not to mention, there were 31 teams in the NHL, and if the one guy you were worried about did ever leave Columbus, there was a ninety three percent chance he wouldn’t come to Montreal. (Literally, you calculated.)

And now it’s been two years, arguably the best two years of your life. You have everything you didn’t have in Ohio; Stable friendships, a job you actually enjoy, a great support system. You’ve gained in every aspect of your life.

You’ve just walked in your front door, when your phone rings. You pull it out of your purse, laughing when you see your bosses name lighting up the screen. “It’s been ten minutes, Reid.” You say, and he laughs. “I’m off the clock.”

“I know, I know.” He responds. “I’m sorry, just this and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Okay, shoot.” You tell him. 

“Tomorrow, media day, I split the players in half for you. We’ll do the first half tomorrow, and then the rest Friday.” 

“Sounds fine to me.” You shrug, “What changed?” 

“We have two new players flying in tomorrow, but they won’t be in until Friday. I figured instead of saving just the two newbies for Friday and rushing you tomorrow with the rest of the guys, we’d just split it evenly.” He explains. 

“Oh,” You say, usually you found out rather quickly when there were trades and new acquisitions, but you hadn’t heard anything today. “I didn’t know we got any new players, trades?”

“Yeah, two trades. I don’t know much, it just happened. New guys are, uh- let me see...” There’s a fast beating in your heart that you haven’t felt for at least a year. When you first started, every time you heard about a trade you’d get a little nervous, cause what if it was him? Eventually those nerves went away, but they seem to have made a comeback all of the sudden. 

You shake out your jitters while you wait for Reid to give you the names, “Here they are, first guy: Joel Edmundson, from Carolina.” You nod, it’s a name you’ve never heard before. 

“Second, Josh Anderson, from Columbus.” 

But that one? It’s a name you’ve heard all too many times. 

Thank god you’re not driving anymore, because you’re sure you would have swerved into oncoming traffic after hearing that. You can feel a chill spread all the way out to your finger tips, a unsettling nervous feeling sitting on your shoulders like a goblin. This can’t be happening. 

He can’t be coming here. 

“Y/N?” 

The phone is still held to your ear, but you can barely breathe let alone get a word out. 

“Are you there?” Reid asks, and finally you manage to just murmur out a noise of acknowledgement, and then you’re hanging up, nearly collapsing onto the couch. You’re in full blown panic mode. 

Within thirty minutes you’ve already fully played out scenario in your head where you quit your job and leave the city, move back in with your parents like a loser and remain single for the rest of your life. And it sucks, but honestly, it sounds better than actually dealing with this. 

If you stay, and let everything play out, you’ll have to see Josh. You’ll have to talk to him, interview him, all while acting as professional as possible so no one figures out that you have history. Now that, that seems just about impossible. 

In a haze you grab for your phone, searching for a specific contact you haven’t used in a while.

“Y/N, nice to hear from you! It’s been a while!” He says, but there’s a note of nervousness to his voice. 

“Seth.” You scold him. 

“I’m assuming you found out about Montreal’s recent acquisition?” 

“Yup, sure did.” You say sarcastically. “Twenty nine other teams that he could have gone to, Seth. Why here?”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He says, “Ninety three to seven, the odds were in your favor, but apparently you’re just really unlucky.” 

“Super fucking unlucky.” You whisper, and you can hear Seth sigh on the other end of the phone. “Well, know of any other teams that are looking for media op managers? Columbus would be great,” You ramble, “There’s a really small chance he’ll come back, right?”

“Y/N, come on.” Seth says, “Last time I heard from you, you were loving it over there.”

“Yeah,” You admit, “I do, I love it here, but that’s all gonna change now.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Seth says. “You said you guys ended things on okay terms, if there’s no bad blood it shouldn’t be weird?” 

“Okay terms is not good terms. He told me he’d wait for me to figure my shit out, and then I basically pushed him out the door.” You explain, “We haven’t spoken since then, there’s no way that this isn’t gonna end terribly.”

“You can both learn to be civil and professional,” Seth tries, “You shouldn’t have to give up your job because of this.”

“Yeah, well...” You sigh, shutting your eyes tight. When you open them again you’re kind of hoping you’ll be anywhere but where you actually are, with any other reality, but you’re just stuck. “I don’t really see another way this can go.” 

“Don’t say that,” Seth whispers, “Promise me you’ll at least try. Try to make things work, don’t just give up before you’ve even tested the waters. This might end up being not even half as bad as you think it will be.” 

When you don’t respond, Seth continues, “You love your job, you love the city, you have friends... You’ve built a life for yourself there and you can’t give that up over this.”

If it weren’t for those things you would have quit the second you heard Josh’s name, but Seth is right... You’ve worked for everything you have here. You owe it to yourself to at least try to make things work here before you give it all up. 

You rub your temples with a deep groan, a dreadful feeling that you’re gonna regret this sinking in. But you sigh and agree anyway, “Okay. I’ll try.” 

“Yes!” Seth says, “You got this.” 

“Does he know?” You ask quietly. “Where I am? What I do?”

“No,” Seth answers, “I can tell him... If you want me to.” 

“No that’s okay-,” You decide, “He should probably hear it from me. Thanks, Seth.” 

“You’re welcome,” He answers, and you can’t help but smile a little. He was probably the one thing you actually missed from Columbus. “Will you call me in a few days? Let me know how things are going?”

“Yeah, of course.” You answer, “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

He confirms, and then says a short goodbye. 

You hang up the phone, and then head straight for your wine fridge. There’s a fancy bottle of white wine that you were saving for a special occasion, and while it’s not the type of celebration you were thinking, it definitely is an occasion. You pour yourself a tall glass, grab a chocolate bar, and head to the couch to start overthinking. 

Then you decide within the first ten minutes that thinking is going to do you no good, so you turn on the TV and grab another glass of wine, praying the alcohol will knock you out, because without it, there’s no way your brain will shut off. 

After the third glass and your sixth episode of Schitt’s creek, you finally start to feel tired. Instead of going upstairs and going to bed, you just flop over on the couch, pulling a blanket over your body before closing your eyes, avoiding all the thoughts bumping around in your head. 

They’ll still be there tomorrow you tell yourself, and then you’re out. 

••••••••••

friday

You’re basically tiptoeing around the arena, sneaking players here and there to get their headshots, all while trying your best to avoid him. 

Your plan is working quite well, you’ve manage to go over half the day without a run in. You’ve just finished with Shea, and you only have a few guys left, so you go for another stroll around the main concourse, looking for Brendan so you can get his goal animations done. You’re turning your head side to side, looking out for a short guy when you hear a familiar voice. 

It’s been two years but you’d recognize it anywhere. 

You freeze for a short moment before you’re all but throwing yourself into the room closest to you, which true to your luck, happens to be the men's bathroom. You twist the deadbolt behind you, staring at the door in pure horror. 

It wiggles against the hinges, and then you hear him, “This one’s locked, man.” 

You wait a good five minutes before you finally tiptoe out of the restroom, sneaking back to your office on extreme lookout. You sigh with relief when you’re in the constraints of your office. You’re finally safe now. 

“Y/N,” Reid announces, opening your office door as usual, without knocking.

You give him a small smile, “Hey, Reid, what can I do for you?”

“I found the new guys for you,” He grins, and the smile drops from your face almost immediately. “They’re ready for their close up!”

You kind of feel like there’s a camera that you can look into like you’re on the office or something, because wow, what stupidly perfect timing. 

Normally you’d have the mind to fake a laugh at his dumb joke, but you just shake your head in panic, standing from your chair as you flail your arms. “No-,” You start to say, but it’s too late. 

“C’mon in guys,” Reid moves further into your office to clear the door way and you swear you could literally throw up on the spot right now. 

“Reid- I asked Ted to do their media stuff-,” You try, but it’s too late. 

They walk in, and you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from swearing loudly in front of your boss. That doesn’t stop Josh though, you can’t even look up at him, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Holy shit.”

You nod your head, your hand slides up from your mouth to the side of your face to act as a shield, while you give Reid your fakest smile. 

He furrows his brows at you, “Everything okay, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, yeah...” You murmur, and you finally drop the awkward hand, crossing your arms with a huff. Your eyes stay trained on Reid, “I just um, I had asked Ted if he would do their media shots and he said he’d take care of it.” You explain, and your boss makes a face at you. 

“Oh how come? Are you not feeling well?” He gives you an out before you can even think of one, and you jump on it immediately, nodding your head quickly. 

“Yeah, just like splitting head ache,” You say, “Nausea, it’s gross. I don’t know what’s going on.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks, and you feel terrible because you know he genuinely feels bad, Reid is one of the nicest guys out there. “You can go home, you don’t need to stick around.” He tells you, and you give him an appreciative smile, refusing to even let your eyes wander to the right. 

“That’s great, Reid. Thank you, I really appreciate it,” You’re about to drop, grab your bag and run out the room like the coward you are, but Reid motions to the boys and the overwhelming urge to throw up is stronger than ever. 

“I’ll just introduce you, and then I’ll send them over to Ted, you can get going.” He suggests, and you nod, sucking in a deep breath. “You’re looking quite pale actually.” Reid notes, “Poor thing,”

“Anyway,” He starts, and you force yourself to turn your body to the side, but you still can’t find the courage to look up at him. “This is Y/N, our head of media operations. She deals with all the social media, the interviews and that kind of thing. She’s great, she’s a huge part of our organization.” You give him a short smile in response, thanking him with a light tap on the arm. “Y/N, this is Joel and Josh, they’re gonna be great additions to the team.” 

“Joel, and Josh...” You respond quietly, extending a hand to Joel first, forcing yourself to make eye contact. “Nice to meet you,” You say, and then you move to Josh, holding out your hand to him too, repeating your earlier words firmly. “Nice to meet you,” 

It’s like your body goes cold when you look at him, he hasn’t changed one bit. He looks kind of confused, but accepts your handshake anyway, nodding with an unsure stare. He doesn’t make any move to let go, so you do it for him, pulling your hand from his grasp in a hurry while you grab your bag from behind you. 

“Sorry, Reid. Thanks again, I’ll be in tomorrow.” You tell him, and then you give Josh one last look, before heading straight out of your office. 

Reid looks a little bemused, but watches you leave anyways. You’re basically speed walking out of the arena, trying your hardest to make it to the parking garage in record time, because you actually feel like the air in the massive building is getting thinner. 

“You forgot this.” 

And just like that your heart rate spikes back up. When you don’t turn, or acknowledge him, he whispers your name and there’s a second where memories come flooding back. 

Your body is nearly frozen, you don’t think you could move right now if you wanted to. Josh comes to stand in front of you, and for the first time you’re forced to look at him. Really look at him. 

It’s been two years but you’d still know that expression anywhere. He’s hurt. 

“You work here.” He says, almost like he’s trying to convince himself. 

You bite your lips sheepishly, and you can feel your resolve starting to crumble. You can’t pretend you’re not completely overwhelmed anymore. 

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

You find the strength to nod your head, but then a second later you’re shaking it to indicate that no, you weren’t. You hadn’t decided what you were gonna do yet, you knew he was gonna find out at some point, but you also knew deep down you were never gonna be strong enough to outright introduce yourself to him this way. You were just hoping when he did find out it wouldn’t be that bad... But here you are. “I was kinda hoping I could just avoid you.” You say honestly. 

He looks tense, like he’s holding back words. When he speaks he’s quiet, and you almost miss the way he scoffs quietly at your response. “Avoid me... Are we really that-,” He stops, leaving the sentence open, because he doesn’t know what word comes next. Neither do you, but you understand. 

You just look at each other for a moment, and it’s now that your emotions finally get the better of you. Tears well up in your eyes, and you just shrug at him, because you have no idea what to do. 

“I love this job,” You say weakly, “And I love living here, but-,”

Josh shakes his head and you stop, waiting for his interjection. “But nothing.” He starts, and then he’s moving one step closer to you, and him simply subtracting another inch shouldn’t affect you as much as it does. You feel your knees start to shake, the tears getting a little bit harder to ignore. 

“This doesn’t need to be weird.” He says quietly, “I don’t want it to be-,” Once again the words are left unsaid but you nod anyway, understanding. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nod quickly, meeting his eyes. You can’t tell if the feeling is warm or cold, but it spreads through your body like wildfire within seconds. You wonder if he feels it too, if there’s anything still here after so long. He drops your gaze and holds your jacket out for you, you take it and then offer him a small smile, “Bye, Y/N.”

And then he walks away.

••••••••••

3 weeks later

“Habs reverse retro, um absolutely, I love these jerseys I think they’re really really cool, so I’m gonna swipe right on these.” Josh says, toying with the tiny phone in his big hands. 

You step in with a chuckle, waving a hand at Ted so he cuts the video. “Alright, you’re done! Perfect,” You say with a laugh, and Josh finally looks up from the phone. You share a glance with your videographer, both of you exchanging a knowing grin. 

“What?” Josh says, and you shake your head with a smirk. 

“Nothing,” You murmur. And Ted starts to laugh. 

“The camera loves you,” He says to Josh, “Almost as much as you love it,” 

He raises his eyebrows at you, “Was I not good?” The corners of his mouth turn up slightly and you just shake your head, trying to hide your wide grin. 

“No, no,” You stop him, and he looks at you skeptically. Finally you shrug and say, “Just maybe next time we do one of these you could like, I don’t know look up at the camera a time or two?” 

Josh starts to laugh, and he shakes his head, looking down bashfully at his feet. “This is not my thing, you know that.” 

And just like that, that stupid feeling is back. Out from the center of your chest all the way to your finger tips. It’s dull this time, but it’s there. You freeze, you’re really hoping Ted didn’t catch on, because you shouldn't know that. 

You change the subject before anything can come of it, and thank god Ted carries on as normal. He didn’t seem to notice, he just flips through his camera bag as usual, murmuring about Shea’s video being even worse. 

You’re not gonna give this anymore time to boil though, so you turn to the culprit, “You’re uh, you’re good to go, thanks Josh.” You say, scratching at the back of your neck. 

He just nods, looking worried at first, but and then half smiles before heading out the door. Once he’s out of ear shot you sigh, grabbing your bag off the chair. 

“Time for a lunch break, Ted?” Cause, wow do you ever feel like you need one. “We’ll film Brendan after?”

“Sounds good,” Ted smiles. 

You nod and then head for the hallway, making sure to go the opposite way Josh did. If you have to walk the whole concourse so be it. 

You shouldn’t be so skittish, you know that... But things have been good the last three weeks. You’ve managed to talk without it being horribly awkward, and no one has found out about your history yet. However, you’re not going to take any chances. The longer you’re in the same room with him, the more likely someone is to slip up, like Josh almost just did. You don’t need to spend a bunch of time with him, just enough time to get your job done. So that’s what you’ve been doing, the bare minimum. Talking only if you absolutely need to. 

The habs were having a great start to the season, not to mention Josh was a huge part of that. He was having the best start of his career, and you weren’t going to ruin it. 

You take a seat at one of the tables in the common area, pulling your book and salad out of your bag with a huff. You would really rather a burger and fries, or something not made up of 90% water, but it was in the fridge and it was easy so you grabbed it. 

You stab the fork into the lettuce, pulling it up one time before you just shake your head and leave it in the container, prodding around at it while your stomach grumbles. 

You look up from your book when your name is called, Joel and of course, Josh are sitting down at a table across from you, an obscene amount of boxed food in their hands. 

Your heart is thumping rapidly in your chest, and you try your best to talk through it, raising your hand in a wave, “Hi, guys.” 

“What’s going on?” Joel asks, “Hungry?”

“No but you sure look it,” You lie, nodding to the boxes they’re holding. 

Joel smiles giddily as they start to open them up, you just grin and then go back to poking at your salad, trying not to pay attention to how good their food smells. You try to distract yourself with your book, but yet again, that doesn’t last long. 

“Hey,” You look up, eyes meeting a complete stranger this time. “I was just wondering if you could tell me where the opposing team locker room is?” 

“Oh, yeah!” You say, standing from your chair to direct him down the hallway. “You’re a player?” You clarify, just to be sure, and he nods. “It’s just down the hall and to the left. Past the equipment room.” 

“Okay...” He says, and you stare oddly as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Thanks,”

He has longer blonde hair, what these stupid boys would probably call a flow, and a long one at that, but he pulls it off. He’s got a nice face with a trimmed beard, and you can tell just from one look at him, swedish. 

He stares at you for a moment and then chuckles uncomfortably, “I’m sorry, worst conversation starter ever.”

Your stomach knots when he says that, and you want to believe that the reason for it has nothing to do with that fact that Josh is sitting right there, watching all of this. You just smile awkwardly, “It wasn’t terrible? More the follow up that could use some work...” You joke. 

“I just saw you sitting here and I thought you were really beautiful, I’m William. I play for the Oilers.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and although this guy is really sweet all you can think about is Josh sitting right there and hearing all this, but you try your best to smile anyway, not wanting to be rude. “That’s really sweet of you, thank you.” Maybe at a different time you’d give this guy a chance, because he seems quite nice. You briefly remember seeing a name on the Oilers roster for tonight, William Lagesson.

He’s about to open his mouth again, when a whistle from behind the both of you catches your attention, you turn to see a red head with a toothy grin. “Leave that poor girl alone, Laggy.” The red head snips, and William runs a hand through his hair nervously. 

You laugh, trying to make him feel better, and he chuckles with a shake of his head, mumbling an apology for his teammate. “Can I maybe just get your number?” He asks, and you try not to look as surprised as you really are. 

It’s been ages since someone asked you for your number, and apparently it’s been a long time since you said no too, because you completely forget how.  

Your overwhelming urge to be nice all the time fails you here, and you find yourself saying yes even though you really don’t want to. He’s sweet and all but, you’d rather not do the hockey player thing again. 

At the last minute you finally have the mind to put a fake number in, and you feel bad momentarily as he smiles and says bye, but as soon as you see the empty spot at Joel’s table, you just feel panicked instead.

Josh is gone... Does that mean he didn’t hear?

You pack up your things and then stop beside Joel, he side eyes you and then makes a face and you just frown. 

“Coach texted Josh, so he wasn’t lucky enough to hear that whole thing... Me on the other hand?” He takes an obnoxious bite of his food as he shoots you a wink, and all you can do is roll your eyes, and walk away. “That was hilarious!” Joel calls behind you, and you just wave him off, but really, there’s some relief setting in when you find out that Josh missed that last part. 

When you arrive back at your office, there’s a note from your boss, and a box on your desk. 

“Head home early today. Boys will be preparing for the game. We can finish up on Monday. -Reid” Is written in his chicken scratch on a bright pink sticky note. 

You do a happy little wiggle, and then reach for the box. It smells amazing, and your stomach grumbles at the thought, but then when you open it and realize what it is, you’ve suddenly lost your appetite. 

It’s pad thai and spicy yam chicken... Your favorite. 

You know instantly this isn’t from Reid... There’s probably only one person in the world who knows what your order is. You used to go to that thai place by his house all the time, and you’d always order the same thing. 

You don’t even put your bag down, you just leave the food on your desk and turn the light off before walking out. 

You try your best not to think about everything that happened today on your way home, because it felt like a huge step back after three weeks of progress. 

You stop for some groceries, and take a look in a little boutique, anything to keep your mind busy. When you arrive home you play music almost as loud as it can go, hoping it will drown out your thoughts. Over the last three weeks you’ve done enough thinking about this, you’re tired. 

So you workout, shower, make some dinner, and then you sit down to watch the game, pinching yourself every time you find your eyes lingering on number seventeen a little too long. 

The game is pretty slow, the boys aren’t playing their best, Edmonton is on their game and you just know they’re not gonna come out of this one with the two points, but you watch anyway. You kind of want to turn it off and switch to something else after the second period, but you give in and stick around for the third. 

All is fine and normal until the five minute mark ticks down on the clock. 

The camera spans to the right to follow the players going up the ice, when you hear the commentator say, “Big battle, in front of the net...”

And your heart just about stops, because you have a feeling you know exactly who it is. Guess Joel was wrong... He did hear the whole thing. 

“Anderson, and Lagesson, they’re still tied up together. Anderson is hot.”

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Plant Your Hope With Good Seeds

Dukeceit Week Day 3: Snakes/Bugs

Remus and Janus break up. But literally everyone knows that's not what they want. Everyone, including their plants.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 4337

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

-

Unknown Number

hey so i kno i said i wouldnt text u but rupert isnt doin good. can i bring him back? he misses u

Janus stared at the text for several minutes. Rupert was, of course, the Monstera Variegata that he and Remus had raised together all the way from propagation. It had been one of the pride and joys of their plant collection. Losing Rupert in the split had hurt almost as much as losing Remus.

...Almost. 

Janus

Is it getting enough light? Remember it needed the grow light even next to the window. 

Janus texted back against his better judgement. He and Remus were broken up. They’d agreed not to text for a while. They’d agreed to give each other space, get used to being apart. 

It sucked, though. The apartment felt empty without Remus and half their plant collection.

Unknown Number

ya i kno. but i don’t have any south facign windows here. our place is better

Unknown Number

i mean ur place

Janus sighed morosely. Well, if it was for Rupert…

Janus

Fine. Rupert can come back.

Unknown Number

yay! ill be in town this weekend. ill bring him ok?

Janus

Ok.

And then Janus promptly threw his phone across the room.

Because here’s the thing. Janus and Remus were broken up. Remus had moved eight hours away and everything. He’d been accepted into the Nuclear Engineering graduate program a state away, and they had both heard too many horror stories about long-distance relationships to brother trying. So they’d had a very civil and mutual split. Janus kept the apartment. Remus took the TV. And they’d divided their plant family between them: they each kept their favorites, and Remus had taken the hardier plants, while Janus kept the ones that were likely not to survive an interstate move.

And then… Remus left.

And Janus had not immediately wanted him back. Not at all.

(And, of course, Janus was lying to himself.)

Remus texted him Saturday morning that he was on his way, and Janus spent the first few hours of the wait stress-cleaning. He then checked on every single plant in the apartment. Watered the ones that needed it. Rotated some of the more vivacious growers so that they wouldn’t lean full-body toward their light source. Moved his small army of Sansevierias out to the apartment balcony for some extra sun.   

Then, when all that still failed to fill up the entire eight hours of waiting, he started stress-cooking. So by the time Remus texted that he’d just gotten off the highway, Janus had himself a pot of minestrone soup simmering on the stove, a tray of made-from-scratch lasagna in the oven, and was mixing up a batch of double chocolate chip cookies. 

There was no way he was going to eat all this food himself, he realized. He was so used to booking big meals like this, because Remus ate like he was three people. And lasagna was his favorite.

“Oh, Jake, what am I doing?” he groaned to the N’Joy Pothos that cascaded down the side of the refrigerator. And then his doorbell rang. 

Janus opened the door to find Remus, dancing awkwardly from foot to foot, with his face half-hidden behind the green-and-white leaves of Rupert. 

“...Hey,” Remus said, sounding sheepish. Janus’ heart clenched.

“Hi,” he said. They stood there in the doorway for a full minute before Janus stepped back and motioned for Remus to follow. Remus hesitated, but obeyed. 

“Uh… I’ll just…” Remus looked around. Janus hated how uncomfortable he looked. Until about two weeks ago, this had been Remus’ apartment, too. “Can I put him in his old spot?”

“Sure,” Janus replied with a nod. Rupert’s old spot had been in the bedroom, where the big, beautiful south-facing window let in a ton of light. He’d moved Venus de Milos, his Marble Queen Pothos, and La Hoya Jackson, the finicky Hoya Carnosa that Remus had wanted but didn’t expect to make the 8-hour drive without going into shock, to free up Rupert’s spot. Remus hesitated again, before he nodded awkwardly and wandered off to the bedroom, all three feet of plant and two gallons of soil in tow. Janus went to the oven and took out the lasagna. 

“Howl looks good,” Remus said when he came back into the kitchen. Janus glanced up from where he was laying balls of cookie dough out onto baking sheets. 

“Thank you,” he replied. Howl was their dramatic fiddle leaf fig tree, which had decided to throw a fit just before Remus left. “I switched it to a terracotta pot with peat moss and pearlite, and doubled its water intake. It seems to be tolerating it well.”

“Good.” There was a long pause. Then,” How are you?”

Janus looked back to the cookies. “I’m doing well,” he lied. “And you? Do you start class soon?”

“Next week,” Remus answered. “And, uh. Yeah, I’m doin’ good.” Another long pause. “Uh… I’ll just. Head out, I guess.”

“You could stay,” Janus blurted out. Shit. “For dinner, I mean.” He gestured to the tray of lasagna, fresh from the oven. “If you want.”

Remus gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, then nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything, though, so Janus just gestured for him to take a seat at the table. And then he joined him, a plate of lasagna for each of them.

“So tell me, how’s living with Roman again?” Janus asked, a few bites into the meal, because he could not take the awkward silence a moment longer.

“It’s ok,” Remus answered. He shoveled another forkful of lasagna into his mouth. “This is really good, Jan.”

Janus smiled softly. “Thank you.” A pause. “Roman doesn’t mind all the plants?”

“Nah, he’s dating this guy Patton who apparently loves plants, so the apartment being full of houseplants is a huge plus to him now.”

“Good for him.” The oven timer went off, startling him slightly. He started to get up, but Remus waved him off.

“I got ‘em, you did all the cooking.”

Janus didn’t protest. Remus got up and took the cookies out of the oven. And he even moved them to a cooling rack like Janus had taught him to do. He came back to the table. 

“How’s work?”

Janus sighed. “Oh, terrible as always,” he answered. “I really must start looking for a new job.”

“Finally getting fed up?” Remus teased. Janus rolled his eyes. More seriously, Remus continued, “You deserve better, Jan. You gotta find some place that treats you right and pays you what you’re worth.”

“Thank you, Remus.”

“And hey, just sayin’, I still think you’d make an excellent stripper.”

Janus snorted at that. “I haven’t fully ruled out that particular career change.”

They fell easily back into their usual banter, lingering late into the night over a dessert of milk and cookies. It was pushing 10pm when Remus glanced at his phone and cursed softly. Janus glanced at his phone as well.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said. Remus shrugged.

“Nah, it’s cool. Thanks for dinner, Jan. It was real good, as always.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Uh… well, the plan was to stay with Logan, but I guess he had some kind of family emergency, so I don’t wanna trouble him. I’ll probably see if I can find a hotel room.”

Janus’ brow furrowed at that. “Why don’t you just stay here?”

“Oh, uh. I don’t wanna trouble you. I kinda feel like I already overstayed my welcome a bit?”

“Nonsense. A hotel room will cost you at least $100 for the night, and that’s simply ridiculous,” Janus insisted. “You should just stay here.”

Remus worried at his lip, which Janus knew meant he was mulling over his options. Then, he nodded. “If it’s not a bother?”

“Of course not. You’re not a bother, Remus.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and he smiled. “Ok. Thank you. Oh… lemmie go get my overnight back outta my truck.”

When Remus came back inside, Janus had just about finished making up the couch. 

“Hey, you don’t gotta get all fancy,” Remus teased. “You know I can sleep basically anywhere.”

“This is for me,” Janus replied. He fluffed up one of the pillows a bit more. “You take the bed.”

An odd look flashed across Remus’ face. “No way, Jan. I’m good on the couch.”

“Remus, you just drove eight hours, and you’re doing it again tomorrow. I am not letting you fuck up your back.”

‘I don’t-”

“Yes you do, no matter how often you say you can sleep anywhere,” Janus scoffed. “You can’t lie to me.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and after a moment, he sighed. “Ok, Jan. But what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You hate sleeping on couches.”

“It’s only one night-”

“And don’t you work tomorrow?”

“Yes, but-”

“You’re going to be so grumpy at work without a proper night’s sleep.”

“I’m usually grumpy at work anyway,” Janus pointed out. Remus snorted.

“Ok, that’s true. But I don’t want you to be even grumpier,” he said. “Let’s just share the bed.”

Janus eyed him for a moment. This was a terrible idea. They should not do this.

“Ok,” Janus said anyway.

They got ready for bed in awkward silence, which just made Janus miss Remus’ long, rambling chatter that much more. When Janus finished in the bathroom, he found Remus sitting gingerly on what used to be his side of the bed. Janus came over and sat down on the other side.

“Hey, uh… thanks,” Remus said. “For lettin’ me stay.”

“Of course,” Janus answered. “I… I still think of you as a friend, Remus.”

At that. Remus grimaced slightly. He didn’t say anything, seeming unable to find the right words. Before he could, Janus pulled back the top blankets on the bed and laid down. After a moment, Remus did the same.

“Good night, Remus,” Janus said quietly.

“...Good night, Janus,” Remus answered. Then he reached over and shut off the light.

-

Remus played that night over and over in his head in the days after he got home, and each and every time, he was just as stumped. 

He knew, in his brain, why he and Janus had broken up. It had been the only thing that made sense at the time, when the facts were just that Remus was moving away to pursue a lifelong dream, and Janus would never ever try to stop him from doing so. So they broke up. It made sense… right? 

But… That morning, he’d woken up to Janus curled up in his arms, face smushed against Remus’ neck, and… Remus had completely forgotten why they had even broken up in the first place.

Remus was back at Roman’s apartment, now. Eight hours away in his own cold bed, arms empty of the man he loved, just staring at the ceiling. A sharp knock on his door snapped him out of his daze.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Roman called. “Don’t you have class in like an hour?”

“Fuck!” Remus scrambled to get up, but succeeded only in rolling out of the bed.

“Don’t forget to lock the door when you leave,” Roman added. Clearly he was unconcerned by the loud “thump” of a body hitting the floor. 

“Yup, got it,” Remus groaned in reply. He staggered, successfully this time, to his feet. 

Getting dressed was a rushed affair of ‘grab whatever’s closest,’ and soon he emerged from the bedroom with one shoe on, the other in his hand, and his backpack slung over one shoulder. He rushed into the kitchen to grab the travel mug of coffee Janus always set out for him in the mornings. And then the realization hit: Janus didn’t live here.

Remus dropped his shoe. 

The rest of the day went about as well as it could have gone without any coffee- that is to say, terribly. He got lost trying to get to campus, then he got lost again trying to get to class. Then he got stuck in traffic on the way back to Roman’s apartment. And then, to top it all off, the grocery store had been out of his favorite chips. 

So here he was, mopey and chip-less, and fucking exhausted. He dumped his backpack and collapsed face-first onto the couch. Roman, who happened to be sitting on said couch, made a noise of protest.

“Move, I need to sulk,” Remus mumbled, though his voice was thoroughly muffled by Roman’s thigh, since that was where his face had landed. 

“What on earth do you need to sulk for?” Roman asked incredulously. He moved to shove Remus off of him, but Remus went full ragdoll, and Roman couldn’t do a damn thing. “You are a grown man, you know.”

Remus turned his head just enough to stick his tongue out at Roman. Roman stuck his tongue out back.

“I had a terrible day, I earned a good sulk.”

“Didn’t like your classes?”

“Nah, they were great.”

“Professors?”

“Great.”

“Classmates?”

“Great.”

“Then Zeus Almighty, what are you so mopey-dopey about?” Roman remanded.

Remus squirmed around so he was laying on his back, head still in Roman’s lap, to look up at his brother. “So… uh… you promise not to get all, like. I told you so and shit?” 

“You miss Janus!”

“No! I-”

“You do!” Roman crowed triumphantly. Remus rolled onto his side so he didn’t have to look at his brother’s dumb gloaty face.

“...Maybe,” he groaned. Abruptly, he clamored to his feet and started for the stairs. “I gotta go build a chair.”

“Carpentry won’t solve your relationship problems,” Roman called after him.

“I know,” Remus called back. “Wrong type of wood.” If Roman had a response to that, Remus was already out the door and didn’t have to hear it. 

Patton found him out in front of the apartment building some time later, a jigsaw in hand, and a pile of cut wooden dowels at his feet.

“Hey, kiddo, what are you up to?”

Remus looked up from where he was balancing a plank of wood precariously across a milk crate, because his work table was one of the things he’d had to leave behind at Janus’ place.

“Oh, hey. Ro-bro’s upstairs.”

Patton gave him the sort of smile teachers gave to the kid they caught eating glue for the fourth time. “That doesn’t look super safe. Do you want any help?”

Remus took in Patton’s soft blue sweater and the dad-jeans from the nicer end of his closet, as well as the reusable grocery store bag that smelled suspiciously like some kind of lovely home-cooked meal; he shook his head. “You look dressed for a date night,” he said. “I don’t wanna fuck up two relationships this week.”

Patton’s eyes, impossibly, got even bigger and softer than they normally were, which honestly was quite the feat. He walked over to the stairs but, instead of making his way up to Roman’s apartment, he plopped down on the third step, facing Remus. Remus stared, bewildered.

“Uh, what’chu doin’ there, pops?”

“Well, it just sounded like you needed to talk,” Patton replied cheerfully. “So here I am.”

Remus stared a moment longer, somehow even more bewildered than before. “Uh…”

“I know I haven’t known you very long,” Patton continued. “But something tells me you’re the type of person who busts out the power tools when you’re upset.”

“How the hell can you tell that?”

Patton glanced over his shoulder, then leaned forward slightly. “Because,” he said, voice lowered conspiratorially. “I’m like that too.”

Remus blinked. “You?”

“Yup! I replaced all the tables and chairs in my house with ones I made myself after my last breakup,” Patton giggled. “Only two of them collapsed when I sat in them, too!”

Remus glanced down at the jigsaw in his hands, and then he sighed. He set it down, and went to sit next to Patton on the steps. 

“Ok, well. Yeah, maybe I’m kinda upset.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah? No? Maybe?”

“Yup, those are your three options!” Patton teased. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Ok, fine. You win, daddy-o. I’m upset because I miss my boyfriend. Or, well, my ex-boyfriend. I want him to be my boyfriend again.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Of course not,” Remus whined.

“Why not?”

“Because… I mean. It wouldn’t change anything. I still moved away. And I don’t even know if he’d want to be my boyfriend again either. Maybe he’s happier now.”

“You don’t know that,” Patton said gently. “Sure, maybe the circumstances aren’t the best right now, but if you both want it, things have a funny way of working out. But you have to talk to him.”

“I…” Remus paused. And then he sighed deeply. “I guess you’re right. Hey thanks, that did actually sorta help.”

Patton offered him a gentle smile. “Of course, Remus! Any time!”

“Hey!”

They both turned to see Roman standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed.

“My own brother, hogging my boyfriend like this! The betrayal-”

“Relax, Ro, he’s not my type,” Remus shot back. “I prefer sarcastic little menaces.”

Patton giggled at that. He stood up and patted Remus on the shoulder. “I hope things work out,” he said. Remus smiled back.

“Yeah, I hope so too.”

Really, he just wanted Janus to be happy. Ideally with him, but if Janus was happier without him, well… so be it. 

- - -

Janus was miserable. 

“Dude, c’mon,” Virgil grumbled, immediately upon seeing the state of the apartment. “You’ve been watering your plants and filling the humidifiers, but you can’t be bothered to throw out your gross pizza boxes?” A pause. “Wait, you don’t even like pizza, what the hell.”

Janus just shrugged. After letting Virgil and Logan into the apartment, he’d gone straight back into blanket-burrito-on-the-couch mode. And really, he’d only bothered to get up and let them inside in the first place because Virgil had threatened to axe down the door- and Janus knew for a fact that Virgil owned multiple axes. 

“I believe he is engaging in what is described as ‘emotional eating,’ or using food as a coping mechanism in a time of stress and emotional turmoil,” Logan said helpfully. Virgil just huffed.

“That’s fine and all, but Jesus Christ, dude.” He gestured around the livingroom where… ok, yeah, it was a mess.

“Did you two come here just to insult me?” Janus grumbled. His face was half-mashed into a pillow, though, so who knows how much of that was actually discernible.

“We came to make sure you were still alive,” Virgil snapped, indicating that at least most of what Janus had said was discernible. “You weren’t answering any texts.”

“Yes, and you called out of work three days in a row,” Logan added. “We are concerned for you, Janus.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Janus lied from the comfort of his depression blanket burrito. He was not particularly surprised when neither Virgil or Logan looked even remotely convinced.

“Alright, drastic measure time,” Virgil growled. He walked over to the window, and picked up the young Burgundy Rubber Tree Janus had yet to name. Janus sat bolt upright. 

“Virgil? Don’t you dare-”

Virgil walked past him and vanished down the hall. When he came back, his hands were empty, and he had a smirk on his face.

“Oh, fuck you,” Janus hissed. He dragged himself up off the couch to go rescue the poor thing, finding it stashed in the dark, windowless bathroom. When he came back to the livingroom, Virgil and Logan were sprawled across the couch.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Janus set the rubber tree back on the windowsill alongside the Snake Plant Army. “Ok, I’m up. Are you heathens happy now?”

“I take offense to that,” Logan muttered, while Virgil just crossed his arms and said, curtly, “Spill it.”

“Spill what?”

“Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not upset-”

“Falsehood,” Logan interrupted. “I have known you since high school, Janus, and I have never seen you like this before. It is highly alarming.”

“Is this about Remus?” Virgil asked.

“No,” Janus said immediately. “Of course not.”

Virgil and Logan exchanged a Look. Janus groaned.

“Fuck. Ok, fine. Maybe it is.”

“Was that so hard?” Virgil asked. 

“Yes.”

“You-”

“Janus,” Logan interrupted Virgil’s retort. “It is my understanding that emotional distress is often alleviated through, as they say, ‘talking it out.’ It is clear you are not handling the break-up as well as you initially believed-”

“Of course I’m not!” Janus snapped. He took a deep breath, and turned back to the plants on his windowsill. Kaa, the Sansevieria Moonshine Remus had gotten for Janus as an anniversary present last year, was already leaning slightly toward the window again. He rotated it, and a few of the other snake plants on the sill. And then he realized the others had been quiet for far too long. He turned to find them both watching him with sympathetic expressions. “What?”

“Keep going,” Virgil prompted. Janus sighed. He felt exhausted.

“Of course I’m not,” he said again. “Because I love Remus.”

“And?” Virgil prompted.

“...And I didn’t want us to break up,” he finished, feeling glum. Wordlessly, Virgil stood up, and approached Janus, arms out. Janus stepped into the embrace. Nobody said anything; Janus didn’t cry, but he stood there for a long time. Then, he stepped back.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. Virgil gave him a small smile. Logan cocked his head, seeming confused.

“I don’t understand. You just… needed a hug?”

“Hugs are great, Logan,” Virgil replied. “You should try them sometime- hey, where are you going?”

Janus strode past them both, beelining for his bedroom to find his laptop. Over his shoulder, he answered, “To fill out some job applications.”

- - -

Remus was outside building a new bookshelf- because Patton was moving in, and Roman's teenie-tiny sad little excuse for a bookshelf, which held only Disney DVDs and no actual books, wouldn’t suffice for all of Patton’s cookbooks- when his phone rang. Which was weird, because nobody ever called him, because he never fucking answered.

“Not interested, Mr. Spam Man,” he crooned over the sound of the generic iPhone ringtone. He was learning how to do kerf bending for this bookcase, and goddamn it he wasn’t going to be distracted by-

His phone started ringing again. He swore and ripped off his gloves to silence his phone. But as he did so, he realized the number flashing across his screen was a familiar one. 

“Janus? Are you ok?” he answered the call, half panicked, because Janus hated phone calls almost as much as he did.

“Hi. Yes, everything’s fine.” Janus sounded slightly hysterical, which made Remus feel even more frantic. “Where are you?”

“I’m at Roman’s. Are you sure you’re ok-”

“Great, don’t leave. I’ll be right there.”

“What does that mean-” Remus demanded, but the line was already dead. Remus swore again. He briefly considered calling him back, because what the actual fuck was that all about, but he was only about 30 seconds into that brief consideration before a familiar car tearing through the apartment complex parking lot caught his attention. He quickly brushed as much of the sawdust off his clothes as he could because holy shit Janus had just parked right there in front of Roman’s apartment.

Remus watched, dumbfounded, as Janus scrambled out of his car- dressed in his very nice black suit and pale yellow button-up- and came running across the lawn toward where Remus was working. He had a tiny plant clutched to his chest.

“Uh, Jan, you good?” Remus asked. Janus stopped in front of him and doubled over, breathless, for a few moments. Then, he straightened up, and fixed Remus with a look of sheer determination.

“Remus. I want to get back together.”

Remus’ heart, the traitorous bastard, leaped up into his throat and blocked all his words from coming out. 

“It’s… it’s ok if you don’t want that,” Janus continued. His look of determination faltered slightly. “It’s ok. But I needed to tell you. Because I love you, so much. And I… I didn’t want you to think I didn’t, even if you don't-”

Remus found his words abruptly. “Jan, fuck! I do! I do love you. I never stopped loving you. All I want is to be with you.”

Janus’ eyes softened. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Good, because I’ve just been offered a job here.”

Remus choked. Janus was eyeing him smugly. “You. Just like that, you got a job here?”

“Just like that,” Janus grinned. “I just came from the interview. They offered me a position on the spot.”

Remus couldn't help himself any longer. He lurched forward and pulled Janus tightly into his arms.

“Hey, be careful,” Janus said, though he made absolutely no effort to get out of Remus’ embrace. “You’ll crush our new son.”

Remus pulled back just enough to look at the small plant Janus held in his hands, and only then did his brain register what it was. 

“Is! Is that-”

“Yes,” Janus replied, holding up the tiny Drosera Capensis seedling. Remus had wanted one of these for ages.

“For me?”

“Well, for us, ideally,” Janus answered, with a shy smile. “But, mostly for you, yes.”

Remus gently plucked the baby octopus plant- their new son!- from Janus’ hands, and placed it carefully on top of the milk crate that was serving as his carpentry workbench. Then, he hoisted Janus up off the ground and spun him around.

“Oh- Re-” Janus exclaimed, though he was laughing. “Put me down!”

“No!” Remus trilled. He spun Janus around once more. Then he just stood there, holding Janus, gazing up at him. Janus’ eyes grew soft. Slowly, he carded his fingers through Remus’ hair.

“Hey,” Janus said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Remus set Janus down, but kept his arms still wrapped tightly around him. His heart felt warm.

“Hey.”

Janus looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“I love you, too.” 

[textsfromthefifthbasement]

I finally finished MAZM: Phantom of the Opera! I’m leaving the review under the cut because it’s long and also spoilers for some elements of the game that aren’t in other Phantom adaptations.

General

First off, I loved the art style of the game. The character designs were quite adorable, and it definitely seemed like they made an effort to follow the original Leroux character designs. They had a blonde Christine and an olive-skinned, dark-haired Meg. I also thought they did a great job with Erik’s character design (though there was too much hair). The sets were beautiful. The majority of the main plot of the game does follow the Leroux book, which I really appreciated. There were some favorite moments in the book that I wish had been incorporated, such as Raoul waking up to find Erik watching him sleep (don’t judge I just find it freaking hilarious), but they incorporated so many other small scenes from the book, such as the managers trying to prevent Erik from taking his salary by using the safety pin. As a history nerd, I also really appreciated the collectible notes giving historical context to some of the discussions, including about three notes on the Paris Commune/Bloody Week. I wished the characters would have had different outfits rather than wear the same outfit the entire story. At the very least, I wished they had made a Red Death outfit for Erik during the masquerade.

I also want to point out and give a warning to anyone who has suicide ideation before they try this game. Pretty early on in the story, you play an episode in which you control Joseph Buquet after he’s dropped into Erik’s torture chamber, and eventually, you have to walk to the noose and pick it. The scene cuts right before he hangs himself. About partway through the story, when you control Christine, there’s a scene in which she has to talk Erik out of killing himself with a shard from a broken vase. At the end, when Christine and Raoul go down to Erik’s house to bury him, they found that he had committed suicide.

In all, I spent about 23 hours on the game from start to finish. I still need to go back and replay a few episodes to complete the achievements. I missed quite a few of the historical notes, and there are parts where you can make different decisions to influence what happens.

In this game, the studio added a lot of subplots that didn’t exist in the book and expanded on some canonical subplots as well. I did enjoy quite a few of these.

The Dancers

Meg, Jammes, and Sorelli are all major characters in the game, and I loved seeing them have more characterization and actual character arcs. Jammes, as a character, doesn’t change as much as the others, but she is only a child. As in the book, she is pretty frightened of ghost stories, strangers, and the Phantom, but in the game, she also loves and takes care of the stray cats living around the opera house and does turn into a bit of a spitfire when her friends are threatened by the various happenings at the opera. Sorelli has a knife and is not afraid to use it, and she comes to realize that her fear of being alone led her to stay with Philippe de Chagny in spite of the fact that he would never officially acknowledge her. Meg, in the beginning, seems afraid of her own shadow, but throughout the game, definitely comes into her own and also develops a much healthier relationship with her mother.

Union

This had to be hands-down my favorite subplot of the game. In the beginning, when Moncharmin and Richard first become the managers of the Palais Garnier, they mistreat Christine and mass fire anyone who mentions the Phantom of the Opera. When Christine goes missing for several weeks, Meg, Sorelli, and Jammes finally decide they have had enough and basically unionize the ballet dancers. There’s an entire protest, a performance in which the ballerinas refuse to perform, and they end up getting a promise from the managers to stop indiscriminately firing and mistreating people.

Christine’s Ending

GUYS. When I joked about Christine just traveling the world and performing instead I had no idea that was an actual choice you can make for her. It’s such a bittersweet ending, but I personally hope that one day she would have emotionally healed enough from her ordeal to come back to Paris and reunite with her old friends.

That being said, there were also a lot of additions/changes that I…really wasn’t a fan of.

Melek

So, for context. During Christine’s first stay at Erik’s house, she decides to do some exploring while he’s gone. While in his room, she hears a woman’s voice behind a wall and goes to investigate. She discovers a hidden door, and behind that hidden door is Melek. We find that Melek is a blind Turkish woman who had been one of Erik’s servants during his time in Constantinople. She had refused to marry him, and so he had kidnapped her and had kept her locked in that room for ten years.

Yes, I have a lot of problems with this.

I think the first thing is that when Melek was introduced is when I really realized that the game was never going to go in the direction of presenting Erik as a character who was sympathetic at times and not so much at others. The game had already painted him as a very unsympathetic character up until then through showing how he had gaslit Christine as the Angel of Music. Introducing Melek really drove that point home, which was kind of disappointing seeing as how the literal point of Leroux’s Le Fantome de l’Opera was that we should pity Erik for how he was treated because of his face.

Additionally, Melek’s character just…didn’t do anything. The more she was around, the more I wondered what the point of her character was. She does offer Christine support half of the time, and then the other half of the time is her being upset because Christine wants to change Erik rather than murder him. Ultimately, it’s my point of view that her character was not a great addition to the game and would have preferred a closer adherence to the book in that regard.

Hatim and PTSD

*sigh* This part seriously pissed me off. While Raoul and Hatim (the Daroga) are in the torture chamber, Hatim tells Raoul the story between him and Erik. We end up playing through a flashback of when Hatim discovers Erik living at the opera house ten years ago. As they discuss their past, we and Hatim quickly realize that Erik has PTSD, and mentioning the Shah of Persia is a serious trigger for him. Which, alright. That does make some sense story-wise.

And then through other flashbacks, Hatim proceeds to use this against Erik. Like he literally would trigger him purposefully as a punishment. And say that he was doing it for his own good.

Like, excuse me, but. What the fuck. What. The actual. Fuck. No. Don’t ever do that, that’s shitty.

Anyways by the end I was legitimately rooting for Erik to punt him.

Erik’s Ending

In the original Leroux novel, Erik presents Christine with a choice: turn the scorpion, and she will marry him, or turn the grasshopper, and the entire opera house will blow up. Christine chooses the scorpion, kisses him on the forehead, and he is so overwhelmed by the action that he saves Raoul’s life and lets them go together. The only promise he extracts from Christine is that she will come back and bury him when he dies, which he believes will be soon. Two weeks later, an ad runs in the newspaper that reads simply, “Erik is dead.”

Yeah. The game really went off the rails here in respect to following the Leroux book. After Christine turns the scorpion, Erik pulls Raoul into the lake and leaves him there, thinking he’ll drown or freeze to death, and then returns to force the marriage. He does eventually let Christine and Melek go, as Christine tells him that she will never love him and that she believes he is a monster, all while he is on his knees begging her just to love him a little. There is no forehead kiss. To the end, Erik writes and tells Hatim that Christine is the devil, and that she abandoned him in hell and wants her to suffer for the rest of her life knowing what she did to him. Yeah, I wish I was making that up.

There is one point where Christine tells Erik it’s not her job to save him. Which I agree with. I feel like whoever wrote the story had a misunderstanding of the ending of the book, or else thought the idea wasn’t explicitly stated enough. The forehead kiss does, in some respect, save Erik. It makes him realize how badly he’s treated everyone and yet Christine is still willing to extend kindness towards him. But it’s not Christine saving him, it’s him coming to that realization on his own. Ultimately, the game traded that idea for a way more heavy-handed “I am not here to save you, I am going to make my own decisions from here on.”

And then, in the face of all that, we’re also missing Erik changing and redeeming himself despite the fact that he’s close to death. Instead, he dies while leaving basically a suicide note to Hatim saying that Christine is the devil and he made her promise to return to bury him to hurt her. Which is so out of character if we look at the book characterization.

Like I knew I was signing up to get my heart ripped out, I just figured it was going to maybe be the brand of Christine having to choose whether or not to stay while Erik dies. And damnit, I just wanted a single forehead kiss.

Anyways, I really enjoyed the game up until the ending. I just seriously disliked the ending for the most part. If you’re more of a fan of the idea of Christine being on her own and finding her own path, that is an enjoyable option to go with. I still need to play through that episode with the marry Raoul choice and see what happens with that option though.

[kattwritesuwu]

Can I request a Clingy!monsterTom x Depressed!Reader? Maybe with cutting and suicidal thoughts?

I sure can!!! I LOVE angst!!!!!

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

Fandom: Eddsworld

Character: Tom

Reader: Depressed

Fic type: Comfort/angst

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: This WILL heavily mention suic/de, blood, and perhaps other triggering topics, read at your own risk!!

Notes: People, I'm not trying to make depression and similar illness romantic, this is simply for comfort.

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

I hate everything.

Well, not everything, but the majority, y'know? Everything just...sucks. Life in general, it's all terrible.

People are terrible. Sure, I've found a few choice people that aren't the bane of my existence, but even they have their flaws.

Am I saying that I'm some heaven sent angel? Hell no I'm not. I'm just as terrible if not more! I hate everyone, including myself.

Am I lying? Yeah. Do I have a crush on someone? Yeah. Am I gonna do something about it? Nope.

Why should I? It's not like I'll be here longer anyways...

I'm planning to kill myself.

Am I scared? Kind of. But at this point I don't care. I'm always scared anyways. Always on my guard around people.

Most people don't know the fear and pain of constantly feeling...numb.

It's not like I never feel anything, it's just so rare. My most common emotion is pain. I just want to curl up in a ball and die. But all I can ever being myself to do is cry, and even that's a rare occurrence at this point.

I feel so alone.

Friends? Yeah I have a few.... they're all a bit odd in their own way. Can't complain though, they're like family to me.

My real family? Not many immediate ones, plus, I moved to England five years ago. They called me everyday for the first couple of months. Nowadays, I can barely get a text back... I get that they have their own lives in their respective country, but man, it just makes me so cold-feeling...

I guess where I was going with this, is that I'm scared. Not of my inevitable death, but everything else.

I'm scared of anything and everything now that I think about it. I don't exactly mean common fears they talk about in elementary school, I'm talking real world problems.

I'm scared of failure, not sure why. I've failed enough in my life....it shouldn't even faze me at this point.

Im especially scared of people.

My friends? Yeah them too. What if I make a fool of myself and they think I'm an idiot? What if I make the wrong move, and they hate me? They probably hate me enough as it is...

That why I won't confess to Tom. He'll hate me afterwards. There's just no point in ruining something for nothing in return.

These were the thoughts that ran through my head as my arms and legs were sliced up by a blade driven by my own hands. It's wasn't like it hurt. All it really did was sting, I'm just that used to being hurt, I suppose.

As I was wrapping up my little 'session' I heard a knock on my door,

"(Y/N)! You in there? It's dinner time! I made breakfast for dinner!" A British accent leaked through my door.

I didn't scramble around at the thought of him walking in, my door was locked after all. It's not like I'm that stupid.

" I'll be there in a few minutes, Edd." I spoke back in a raspy voice, not bothering to yell. Edd has good ears, he can somehow hear a whisper from across the house.

It takes me a minute or two to get up and walk into the bathroom that connects to my room. I stumble a bit with the loss of blood.

Once I get in there I take a quick shower, just barely long enough to stop the bleeding and make it appear as if you just took an actual shower.

Once I get out of the shower, I slip on my (favorite color) hoodie.

That was an easy part of hiding my self abuse. Everyone in the house wore a hoodie of their own designated color.

I also slipped on a longer article of clothing to go onto my legs. Couldn't let them see my thighs either.

Once I finished the rest of my cleaning up, I headed out of my little bathroom, and in front of my door. I took a deep breath, put on a smile, and walked out.

I got about halfway down the stairs before a screech startled me, causing me to trip a bit,

" (Y/N) IS HERE! YAY!" The high pitch British scream could only belong to the narcissistic ginger known as Matt.

Once I got my balance back into my feet, I continued down the stairs and greeted Matt with a wave.

" Yeah she lives here, idiot. She's not going anywhere." A deeper voice had spoken, I turned around and Tom was there as expected. I smile shrunk a bit at his last comment.

" Sup (y/n)." You snapped out of your thoughts and responded with a casual 'yo.'

The three of us then heard a thick accent cursing in the kitchen, no doubt it was Tord,

" For jævla skyld! Just let me have the last piece!!"

Sure enough, when we walked into the kitchen, Edd and Tord were fighting over the last piece of bacon. I let out a sigh, and the two boys finally acknowledged our existence. That alone didn't stop their argument though.

I didn't even bother attempting to break up the fight, I never could anyways. Their little fuss always ends one of two ways. Edd steals the bacon from under Tord's nose, or vise versa.

I just grabbed a small portion of food, and sat down.

I knew I would be gone by the end of tonight...but I wanted to taste Edd's cooking one last time.

Something interesting happened, instead of one of the two boys getting the bacon, they halved it and sat down. Of all my four years living in this house with these people, they've never shared their bacon.

Strange.

Dinner wasn't as talkative as it usually was when we all ate at the table. Usually we'd all have a big group discussion about our day, or week. Tonight was quiet, giving me an opportunity,

" Hey, guys?" Each one of their heads turned to me, and Edd signalled me to continue,

" I just wanted to say, thank you." Their brows furrowed but I held out a hand to tell them to let me finish,

" You four have helped me with so much over the past few years. From when you let me live here when I couldn't find proper housing situations, to letting me borrow the car. I just wanted to formally tell you all how grateful I really am. You are truly the kindest people I've ever met." As I went on talking, I realized how bad of an idea this actually was.

I mean, will they get suspicious? I'm just showing gratitude right? It shouldn't sound like a cry for help or anything...

As I snapped out of thought for the fiftieth time today, I notice that all of the boys have some type of smile on their face, even Tom!

Edd was smiling like a proud mother,

Matt was smiling giddily,

Tord had a smug, 'cool guy' smile,

And Tom had the smallest smile that made my heart melt.

I awkwardly continued my fake smile, and sat down.

Conversation continued on as would on a normal night, with the topic being past pleasant memories.

I volunteered to wash the dishes, it was the least I could do. There was only one problem. For some ungodly reason, Tom had insisted on helping me.

I couldn't figure out why at first, untill it dawned on me that he probably needed something from me.

So as I scrubbed the forgetten food off of the ceramic plate, he rinsed and dried them. We did this in silence, aside from the running water. Tom's the first one to break the tension filled silence,

" So, how have you been?" It was such a simple question, I could have simply faked a toothy grin, and said that I was great. I could have thanked him for asking. I could have asked him back.

But I only did one of those things.

" I've been doing just as good as I always do." I reply with a small sad smile. I tear my eyes away from the dish water," How about you? You've been awfully quiet tonight."

He chuckles lowly," Just had a lot on my mind, trying to face some of my problems, that's all." I stop what I'm doing and look over at him,

" Do you want to talk about it? I think the others are asleep already."

Normally when Tom is having any type of problem, he comes to me for advice, or even just for someone to listen to him rant when he's drunk. I even gave him a spare key to my room if he ever needs me while I'm asleep. He's offered the same for me, but I told him that I have a counselor. I try not to lie to my housemates all the time, only when necessary.

He simply shakes his head in response," Nah, this is one I have to deal with on my own," I sigh,

" Alright then, but keep my offer in mind. Just try to remember to see me before I go to bed, I'm...going to bed early tonight. I have something to do tommorow." He nods in understanding.

After we finish the dishes, we say our goodnights,

" I'll see you in the morning, (y/n)." I give one last fake smile,

" Same to you, Tom. Sleep well." I see him nod and walk down the hall as I close my door and lock it for the final time.

I walk into my bathroom and look into the mirror. All I see is a monstrosity of a person glaring back at me.

The bags under my eyes had only gotten worse after the sleepless nights I spent writing my suicide note.

I decided to skip reading over it one last time, I want nothing that could alter my decision at hand here. If I read my dying love letter that's written to Tom, I might stop myself in some kind of silly hope that everything could be okay again. It was too late for all that now.

So, I grabbed my blade that had served me well over the years, and stepped into the bathtub. I didn't cry, I didn't shake in fear of what I was about to do. I sadly smiled instead. As I took my hoodie off, revealing a tank top that no one knew I owned. I set my hoodie softly onto the floor, and turned on the hot water.

I took a deep breath in, and sigh, grabbing my blade and getting to work on my first artery. It took me a couple tries to find it.

But once I did, it started the red tint in the once clear bath water. I took in a shaky breath, adjusting to the dizziness of loosing so much blood so quickly.

At this point I couldn't even hear the bathwater running, everything was muffled.

I reached to turn it off, and a hand was placed onto mine. It takes me a good second to register that there was someone next to the tub, yelling my name right next to my face.

I try my best to focus on who could have caught me. Yet it's so difficult to take in my surroundings at this point.

So as I stare at the person beside my bathtub with fading eyes. I feel pressure on my wound, and see something being wrapped around it.

I start panicking, trying to say no, to let me die.

But I just can't. I just watch as my life is saved against my will.

Suddenly I can see that I'm moving, I can't figure out how until I notice the arms carrying me bridal style to a soft surface. That's when I lost consciousness for the next hour.

I didn't exactly 'wake up' more like fazed into existence. It's like I just gradually became aware of what was around me.

I became aware of the sobs coming from my bedside, and of the pressure squeezing my hand.

I forced my eyes open and tried to sit up. Yet I instantly regretted my decision, pain shot throughout my body. I glance over to my hand and up the....purple arm....

Who is this? Or perhaps I should say, what is this?

It's some kind of...monster? Hybrid? It looked kind of human... I could only see the torso and up. Even then, the arms grew bigger the farther down the arms stretched, and turned a deeper and deeper shade of purple. Horns poked out of the head laying slightly onto my shin, poking me a bit.

" Am-" I hold my throat. That hurt. I clear my throat of the mucus and start again as the unknown monster wakes up,

" Am I dead?"

The monsters head shoots up, and I can't help but recognize the 'eyes' that I've grown to love.

" T-Tom..."

He tries to smile for me, but it twists into a sad frown as his black orbs start to water,

" (Y/n)....(y/n) you're...y-you're okay! You're okay..." He said this over and over again as he cupped my cheeks with his transformed hands.

I grab onto his forearm to steady his shaking. This was starting to scare me.

I had never seen this man shed a tear in front of me, yet alone bawl into my shoulder like he was doing now,

" Tom, it's okay, I'm right here." I whispered this, and many other reassurances into his ear. Confirming to him that it was going to be okay and that, to my displeasure, I wasn't going anywhere.

He seemed to get angry after a few minutes, he ripped himself away from me and took hold of my shoulders,

" WHAT IF YOU WEREN'T RIGHT HERE? WHAT IF I HADN'T OF WALKED IN!! WHAT THEN HUH? YOU WOULDN'T BE RIGHT HERE!!! YOU'D BE GONE!! I would have...lost you..." He slid down the side of my bed as he finished his outburst. He sat crying into his knees.

I didn't know what to do. Is he mad at me? But despite the questions, I acted without thinking.

I began to run my fingers through his hair, almost brushing it. He seemed surprised at first, before he leaned into my touch.

" I'm sorry Tom. I didn't think it would effect you like this..." All was silent for a few moments. Until,

" Why..?" He sniffled a few times before I could respond.

" Why? Why what?" He looked up to me,

" Why would you try to leave me?" I couldn't even bring myself to say anything after that. Tom seemed to sense the frog in my throat, and continued,

" You don't realize, (y/n). You don't realize how special you are. To your family, your friends. I mean bloody hell (y/n)! What about us?! Edd would be heartbroken! And how are we supposed to explain something like that to Matt?" I avoided the possible eye contact and twidled my thumbs in my lap,

" What about me (y/n)? How am I supposed to go on living with myself if you, the love of my life, killed herself?" My mind went blank. He took my hand in between both of his,

" I know this isn't the greatest time for this, but if it'll boost your self esteem even a little bit, I don't care about embarrassing myself. (Y/n) (L/n), I am deeply in love with you, and have been since you moved in. I've loved you since you helped me to bed when I came in drunk all those years ago. I've loved you since you beat my Pac-Man score at the arcade, I acted so mad, but you were just so cute so excited like that... (Y/n)... Please let me help you love yourself by loving you..."

By the time he was done with his speech, I was in tears, a small frown on my face. He seemed to get the wrong idea as he instantly dropped my hand and got up,

" I got the message, I'll just uhm... I'll just g-" I grabbed his hoodie strings and pulled him in for a kiss.

We could both tell that there would be many more to come.

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

I'm sorry if it's extremely long, I just love to write angst haha...

[adenei]

Hello!! Hope u r having a good day!! I rwally really enjoy ur writings.... So I was kinda hoping if u would do angst 6 from the prompt list 1 for HINNY.... Love U and u r writings 💖💖💖💖

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the ask!!! <3 I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this, but I hope you enjoy this little piece of summer before DH FLANGST!!!

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

 “You’re lying to me again. Why can’t you just tell me the truth for once?”

Ginny let out a loud sigh as she polished the last of the silverware for the upcoming wedding. Even though Fleur had become more tolerable since they’d returned for the summer holidays, her Mum had become a raging lunatic. Not that Ginny could entirely blame her. They were hosting a wedding, in the midst of a war, no less, which was no easy feat.

Setting the last knife into the drawer, Ginny brought the polishing cloth to the hamper with dirty clothes awaiting a wash. The house was blissfully quiet, in what was no doubt a rare moment. She was hopeful that she’d be able to sneak up to her bedroom unnoticed to relax a bit before—

“Oh, wonderful, you’ve finished!” Her mum observed as she bustled into the kitchen.

Ginny resisted the urge to groan. She’d been so close to a free moment. If only she’d been two minutes faster. 

“Would you be a dear and go degnome the garden?” Ginny very well knew her mother wasn’t asking, even though she posed it as a question.

“But—”

“No ‘buts’, Ginevra! We’re—”

“—hosting a wedding in two days. Yeah, Mum, I know.”

“You don’t need to be fresh, young lady. Now, please go and do as I’ve asked. You can take a break for lunch once it’s finished.”

Ginny inwardly cursed Fred and George for moving out after they’d started the business. De-gnoming the garden had always been their job, but now that they weren’t around often, it fell on her shoulders. Ron’s too. She stalked off toward the door and shut it a little too hard in frustration. When she rounded the corner to the garden, she was surprised to see someone already tackling the task.

She paused where she was standing to watch Harry pull out the menacing creatures from the earth and fling them off into the neighboring field. They hadn’t had much of a chance to spend time together while he was staying there, since her mum was keeping them all so busy. Even though they’d ‘broken up’, she felt no shame in watching the muscles in his arms flexed as he worked. Ginny quickly found herself drifting off to those lazy Sunday afternoons by the lake, when those arms could be found wrapped around her waist. 

She forced the thoughts from her head as she closed the distance between them. “Hey,” she greeted, alerting him to her presence. “Mum told me to come out here to take care of the gnomes. She must have forgotten she already assigned it to someone else.” 

A smile crossed his lips as sweat poured down his face. “You’re more than welcome to help if you want.”

“I don’t know...I think watching you work might be more fun,” she smirked.

Harry laughed, and the sound was like music to her ears. “Well, I’m almost done anyways. Then, I suppose I’ll need a shower.”

Ginny nodded as she gave in and reached for one of the terrors nearest her. “You do have quite the stench about you,” she said, pinching her nose.

She grabbed the gnome and swung him around and around, until letting go and watching him soar across the field. A disgruntled sound escaped Harry’s lips. 

“What? Jealous of my chaser skills? Or did you not expect to be outdone in gnome throwing today?”

“You wish! That was nothing compared to one I just threw before you came out here.”

Ginny laughed. “I watched you throw two before I came over, don’t lie. I had you beat by a long shot.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow in her direction. “Is that a challenge, Weasley?”

“Only if you’re up for it,” Ginny said as she reached for another gnome.

They both set off to throw as many gnomes as far and as fast as they could. It didn’t take long to finish emptying out the garden of the pesky vermin once they’d made a competition of it.

“Well, that worked out better than I planned,” Harry said, brushing his hands together in an attempt to clean off the excess dirt.

“What? Finishing the task, or the throwing contest? Because I’m pretty sure I beat you,” Ginny said as she bumped into his shoulder innocently.

She picked up the shovel that was laying on the ground and brought them over to the shed as Harry followed.

“I don’t think so! I definitely had you on a couple,” he argued playfully.

“Agree to disagree, then,” Ginny said.

She entered the tiny shed and placed the shovel on the back wall. Turning to exit, she didn’t realize how close Harry was and almost bumped into him. He caught her easily, and she found herself in his arms again. They both stood there, frozen, a mess of limbs and sweat. For a moment, Ginny thought Harry was going to kiss her. It’d be so easy to just lean in, one more time.

And just like that, Harry backed away. “Gin, we really shouldn’t.”

Hurt and disappointment swept over her. “Like you don’t want to,” she spat bitterly.

“I...don’t,” he said, the strain in his voice clearly evident.

“You’re lying to me again. Why can’t you just tell me the truth for once?” 

Ginny wasn’t quite sure where that had come from. It was probably the frustration of the whole situation.

“Again?” Harry immediately became defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t trust me with information of what you three are planning! Haven’t I proven that you can tell me? I just want to know that you’ll be safe. How can I know if you won’t even—”

“Gin, you know I can’t tell you! It’s the same reason you can’t come with us. That and you won’t be of age, so the—”

“Yeah, I know. The bloody trace,” she said angrily as she kicked at the ground. “It’s not fair. None of it.”

She looked up to meet his gaze and immediately regretted her words. Sure, it wasn’t fair, but she was being awfully selfish. It was up to Harry to save the magical world as they knew it. The hurt and anguish on his face said more than any words could.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

Ginny wrapped her arms around him, wishing she could take away all of his stress and pain. “I just want to make things easier for you.”

She felt him nuzzle into her neck as he said, “You already do. Just promise me you’ll stay safe and out of trouble at Hogwarts this year. I’m doing all this for—”

He choked on his words as the remainder of his unfinished sentence hung in the air between them. You.

“I know,” she whispered back. “Just, promise me the same?”

“You know I’ll try, but—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare say it.”

It didn’t bear repeating, and she refused to let herself believe that these could be their final days together, even though she was well aware it was a possibility. She felt him pull away and immediately missed his warmth and touch, despite the hot July air.

“We should get back inside. I could use a shower after all that hard work,” he said reluctantly. It was an attempt to bring them back to the lightheartedness of a few moments ago.

“Yeah, Potter, you stink,” Ginny joked as a smile returned to her face. 

She pretended to push him back out of the shed. He chuckled as he blocked her exit, their playful banter returning. And just like that, their serious conversation was over, though the moment would continue to replay in Ginny’s mind for many months to come.

[staal-eric-archives]

Prompt! "It would've been a lot more romantic if you had de-thorned the rose before putting it in your mouth..." with the pairing of your choice?

Or Habs at the sugar shack? (I also need to take my mind off things...)

florence <3

i had to go with lehkevans for this one :3 this is such a lehky behavior!

Lehky had it all planned. Of course, he does. He wants Jake to feel the luckiest and loving man in the world. The whole thing is on his mind for a while: he’s going to cook a Finnish dinner, burn a cool candle he got the other day at the store and of course, a big bouquet of flowers. Red roses to be precise.

No one knows this about him but he’s a romantic. He’s a dork romantic, to be exact and he wants everything to go according to plan. He doesn’t know if Jake has anything planned but he gives it a shot anyway. Because he’s like that and he wants this Valentine’s Day to be perfect.

He asked Jake to be at his apartment at five. Good thing it was the Superbowl the night before because they were both a bit tired and they intended to take it slow but Lehky decided it was the perfect timing to send Jake go and run some errands or to go out with Nick or something, which gives him the time and space to do whatever.

Lehky takes the perfect tablecloth his mother made back in Finland. “For special occasion.” She told him before going. “Special occasion with a special person.”

And Jake is that special person. He can’t imagine being with someone else than him. They’re both compatible on and off the ice. He’s just so happy to be with him and he wants Jake to know that. If there’s something his parents taught him back in Finland is how he should show affection to someone when you like this person.

That’s what he’s doing.

Lehky then chooses the dishes, also from Finland with some delicate flowers in it and he arranges the table. He finishes everything with the bouquet at the center of it.

Despite everything being in order, he knows something’s missing. He watches the clock and Jake texted him a couple of minutes ago telling him he’s coming back. He has to add a little something to it.

First, he gets rid of the apron and he arranges his shirt. He knows Jake asked him to be relaxed but he wants this to be special. He also takes the time to arrange his hair and he looks at himself in the mirror and he waits for Jake to arrive.

Still, he doesn’t exactly know what to do to add a little extra to everything he just did. When Lehky hears the doorknob, he grabs a rose from the bouquet and sticks it through his teethes. All he can say for his poor defense is… “Ouch!” Not even a Surprise babe! or a Happy Valentine’s Day!

None of that because he didn’t de-thorned this stupid rose.

When Jake finally opens the door and that he realizes what’s going on, he can’t help but smile to this poor Lehky. He approaches him to see the damages. “You know, it would've been a lot more romantic if you had de-thorned the rose before putting it in your mouth...” Jake laughs, as he tries to help Lehky getting rid of the flower.

“Ouch!” He lets out again. He’s bleeding a little. Yep, not the most romantic thing as they show on TV.

“You adorable dork. You did this for me, uh?” Jake calmly says as he caresses his cuts with a Kleenex. “I didn’t ask for all that much, you know.”

“All of you.” Lehky replies, blushing. “I know you said don’t go crazy but…”

“I should’ve known.” Jake snorts. He then pulls Lehky closer to him to give him a gentle kiss. “Minä rakastan sinua.” He confesses to him. Lehky lets his lips go and he’s in awe. Did Jake just really said I love you to him in Finnish? Jake blushes. “Your mom and Army helped me.”

Lehky looks like and idiot smiling like he does when he’s so happy. Jake makes him happy. “Yeah, I love you too. Come on, let’s eat.”

Jake laughs because of course, his boyfriend’s hungry, but he wouldn’t change a damn thing right now.

choose an otp (staallagher/suzufield/lehkevans/trevack/chiarmia), pick a prompt from one of those three options : 1, 2, 3 & go to my ask and i'll write a drabble/short fic out of it

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Strangers (Part 4)

Summary: Sam has returned into Dean’s life for some reason and the reader is there to try and help Dean through having Sam around again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x patient!reader

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language, mention of surgery/injury

A/N: I hope you enjoy!

____

“Hi,” said Sam, giving you a quick wave. He stared at Dean who was already on his feet. “I need a place to crash for the night. If that’s okay.”

“What happened to the apartment, you were sharing with that girl, Jessica.”

“She died a few years ago,” he said.

“You kill her?” asked Dean. You got up, still holding your box of swiss rolls and Sam frowned. “You’ve been out of touch for three years. It’s not an unreasonable question.”

“I didn’t kill her,” said Sam. “I saw...it was a serial arsonist. I saw who did it and he ran with a bad group. I’ve been in witness-”

“Witness protection? Are you serious? I’m the fucking easter bunny while we’re at it,” said Dean.

“De, I think he’s telling the truth,” you said, nodding towards him. “He’s obviously upset.”

“You’ve been in witness protection? This whole time?”

“Yes,” said Sam. “Things have been happening lately. A lot of things. These guys are no longer a problem so I can come home. Except for the fact I don’t have a home anymore and had to drop out of college.”

“I filed a missing persons report on you.”

“I know.”

“I hung up flyers, search parties, fundraisers.”

“I know.”

“I drove to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night because I thought I got a tip about you.”

“That was me. I had to relocate after that.”

“I looked for you for so long. Even when mom and dad gave up, I didn’t. There was no foul play but the cops told us it was unlikely we’d ever find you. You probably walked out and didn’t want to be found. I was so angry at you. They told us you were dead cause someone hurt you or you walked away. Those are two very different things,” said Dean. You dropped the box on the couch and grabbed his hand, Dean pinching his nose with his other. 

“I can leave if you want,” said Sam.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” said Dean. You rubbed his back and he walked over, giving his brother a hug.

“Finally got a girlfriend?” teased Sam as he returned it.

“You two are gonna get along great. You can swap stories,” laughed Dean. “Oh, I need a drink. Also how’d you get in my house?”

“My handler had a key made. They took it from your locker at the hospital,” he said.

“Lovely.”

“I know it sounds…” said Sam as he glanced at you. 

“Crazy is kind of our thing,” you said. “I’m Y/N.”

“You look familiar,” he said.

“My ex boyfriend tried to kill me. With bleach. In my drink.”

“Oh yeah. He was fucking nuts,” said Sam.

“Yup. That’s been our fun for the evening,” you said. “He got out. He’s dead now. It’s fine. Better than fine cause I’m gonna eat a whole box of swiss rolls and not feel bad about that.”

“Yeah, I will get along with you just fine,” said Sam, giving Dean a look. “Not sure about you though. I wanted to-”

“S’okay,” he said. “I’m just...happy you don’t hate me after all.”

“I wanted to call you so many times. It was too dangerous though. I couldn’t put you in that position,” said Sam.

“I’m getting kind of used to that,” said Dean. Sam smiled and you walked over to them both. 

“I crashed date night, didn’t I,” he said.

“Just a bit,” said Dean.

“Well I am really happy to meet Dean’s little brother,” you said, giving him a hug. “You don’t mind if Sam hangs out with us, right?”

“No, never. As long as you’re cool with it,” said Dean. 

“Of course,” you said.

“I appreciate it but honestly I’m wrecked. I could use with a shower and a bed,” said Sam.

“The guest room is right down the hall,” said Dean, pointing the way. “You hungry?”

“Nah. I’ll keep out of your guys hair,” said Sam. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” said Dean. Sam started to head for the hallway when Dean grabbed his arm. “I’m really happy you’re home, Sammy.”

“Me too.”

He smiled before he left, Dean taking a deep breath as he locked up the front door again.

“So you got a brother,” you said.

“Yeah. I probably should have brought him up at some point,” said Dean. You shrugged and rested your hands on his hips, Dean smiling softly. “I thought he was dead.”

“I’m glad he’s not,” you said. “I’m gonna have to back out on the being roommates thing though.”

“What?” he asked.

“Sam needs it way more than I do. I can stick around my parents until my apartment is ready. Seriously, it’s okay. He’s gonna need a lot of help. Trust me. He’s gonna want you,” you said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. My parents aren’t that bad. Someday we can be roommates though?” you said.

“Okay. I’ll take a raincheck for now,” he smiled. 

“Tonight’s not so bad,” you said. He nodded and you pulled him close to your body, Dean’s arms wrapping lazily around you. “You doing okay?”

“I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, the most terrified I’ve ever been in my life and the most relieved I’ve ever been in my life tonight. I honestly don’t know where to begin,” said Dean.

“I got a box of chocolate with your name on it that might be a good place to start.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” he said. “You okay too?”

“My night’s ending on a good note. I’m good Dean. Let’s get back to our date. I was in the middle of cuddling you if I remember.”

One Week Later

“Howdy handsome,” you said, the elevator doors at the hospital opening to Dean standing there in his navy scrubs.

“Gorgeous,” he said, giving you a quick kiss as he stepped on. “You already have your follow up with Mace?”

“Yeah. I am progressing well I guess. We’re switching my immunosuppressant to try something that doesn’t make me as tired and won’t make me as susceptible to illness,” you said.

“That’s good. I know you’re on the strong stuff right now. Mace is pretty good about finding the right med combo by the second or third try,” he said. “Transplant meds are tricky.”

“I’ve learned. How’s your day going?” you asked. “Saving lives?”

“Easy going day. Took out some tonsils on a teenager, did an appendectomy on a toddler, did a bone reset on a kid that broke her leg. Nothing they won’t all recover from 100% percent.”

“That sounds good,” you said. “When do you get off?”

He snickered and you whacked his arm.

“Such a boy,” you said.

“I have one more surgery for the day but I’m heading home after that. Our parents are coming into town. They’ve been in Florida cause their vacation plans got screwed up with the pandemic last year so they rescheduled and of course it’s this week and there’s tropical storms so they can’t get a flight out and they finally are getting home today. It’s been a nightmare. I’m supposed to cook dinner so that’ll go wonderfully.”

“You’re a good cook!” you said as the doors opened and you walked with him down the hall. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. They excited to see Sam?”

“Yeah. They feel bad about...they thought he was dead. Like it hasn’t been long enough to legally declare him that way but they were going to. I’ve always had a somewhat tense relationship with my dad. We fought a lot about Sam after he disappeared.”

“I think no matter what happened before, dinner’s gonna go good for you guys tonight,” you said.

“You’re coming right?” he asked. 

“You want me to?”

“Yeah. I...you make me feel...safe,” he said as he stopped walking. You smiled and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together. “You don’t have-”

“I’d love to. I really like Sam and I want to be there for you. I like that I make you feel safe, makes me feel good,” you said. He rubbed the back of his neck but you caught the smile on his face. You gave him another kiss, a whistle coming from further down the hall.

“Get a room, Winchester,” said a guy as he walked by with a laugh.

“Better be a soundproof room,” you said, the guy stopping in his tracks.

“Okay, I approve of this one,” the guy chuckled. Dean rolled his eyes but he was biting down a laugh.

“Y/N, this is RN. Lafetite or Benny as well call him. He’s Donna’s boyfriend,” said Dean.

“Oh yeah, she was great,” you said. “She removed my appendix.”

“That woman knows her way around a blade,” said Benny. “You had the digestive transplant done a while ago, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, Dean making a face beside you.

“Badass,” said Benny. “I worked with Mace some on you.”

“You’re a surgeon too?” you asked.

“No, no. I’m a surgical nurse,” he said.

“They’re pretty important,” said Dean. “The really good ones could perform minor surgeries themselves like Ben. I keep trying to convince Benny here to go to med school and join the rest of us.”

“Oh you know you’d miss me too much, Deano. You me and Novak are the dream team of pediatrics,” he said.

“Sure we are,” said Dean with a laugh. “Y/N and I were having a little get together on Sunday, watch a little football, food. Round up the usual suspects?”

“I can get the crew together. I’ll bring my beer dip and some of those pretzels. Very easy on the digestive system,” said Benny to you.

“That’s considerate,” you said. “It’s okay. I’m alright with most stuff. I just got to watch the grease a bit.”

“These are really not greasy at all. I’ll give you the recipe sometime,” said Benny as his phone went off. “I think we’re late for pre-op.”

“When are we not?” said Dean. “I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

“See you later, Dean.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” said Dean that night as he rushed in the house. You and Sam were working the kitchen, Dean checking the clock. “They’re gonna be here in five minutes.”

“Go wash up. Sam and I can cook a few pieces of chicken and make mashed potatoes,” you said. You were nearly finished anyways, the chicken baking away in the oven. Dean made a thud down the hall but shouted back that he was fine before you heard the bathroom door shut. “He always been a worrier?”

“Pretty much,” said Sam as he got out the plates. “He seems different. Good different. More easy going.”

“It’s all I’ve ever known from him so I don’t have much to go off of,” you said. 

“You might have something to do with it,” he said. He smiled and finished up with setting the table. “You’ve never met our parents Dean said.”

“No. We’ve only been together a few months,” you said.

“This’ll be an interesting evening then,” said Sam as the doorbell rang. He suddenly looked nervous and you rubbed a hand up and down his back.

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “Trust me.”

“I see why he likes you,” said Sam. “Here goes nothing.”

______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

[13-reasons-ideas]

Once a Serpent? Part 1

A/N: This is a Riverdale X 13 Reasons Why crossover. I stopped watching Riverdale when season 2 got weird. I haven't really kept up with the show since outside of promos. As a result, this won't really line up with much of anything in seasons 3-current. I know I usually have Monty be this great guy who changes for the girl but I decided to try something different this time. This story has gone in a direction I wasn't expecting. It won't be super different than normal for a while, but I will give content warnings where needed. Let me know what you guys think and if you want me to continue! As always, feel free to send feedback or Q&A type questions. And much love! - Em

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. 

I found Nathan over by the river. He was staring out over the cliff. My black leather jacket was pulled around me tightly. It was a cold August. “Hey.” I called out to him, softly.

“Hey.” He didn’t turn around.

“Can we talk?”

“About?”

“What happened?”

“Not much to talk about, is there Kennedy?”

“Nate…” I started. “Please?”

“Fine.” He sighed, walked back closer to the trail, and sat on a rock. I watched him run a hand through his shaggy hair.

“I just found out last night. I was going to tell you today. I didn’t think it was something you should tell someone on the phone.”

“I just don’t get why you have to go. You’re an adult.”

“Because. I haven’t graduated and I have nowhere to stay here.” He opened his mouth to speak. “My boyfriend’s trailer doesn’t count.”

“Okay. When do you leave?”

“Three days. My mom needs time to finish her week. Dad leaves tonight.”

“You can keep the jacket until then.”

“Thanks.”

“Not doing it to be nice. You know that.”

“I know. But still. Thank you.” He merely hummed in response. “For everything.” I felt tears welling in my eyes. He knew me too well and, even if he didn’t want to, he opened his arms for a hug. I took a few steps forward into his grasp. He wrapped his arms tightly around me as I sobbed. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you. He shushed me and petted my hair. “I love you Nate.”

“I love you too Kenna.” His voice sounded small. I stepped away from him hhen I calmed down enough to breathe properly again. I couldn’t look at him again as I walked away.

Three days passed by in the blink of an eye. One minute I was starting to fold clothes, the next, I was staring at the jacket on my empty mattress. My room was full of boxes for the movers to take. The Serpent jacket stared back at me. It was almost mocking me. You knew this was a possibility when you got involved. “Shut up.” I muttered.

It was time for me to give the jacket back. Giving it up was almost harder than the breakup. It had become a part of me in the last two years. The thought of being without it made me feel cold. As hard as it was, I knew it didn’t belong to me anymore. So, I took a deep breath and picked it up. I didn’t put it on. There was no reason to make this even harder than it already was.

I pulled to the side of the road when I got to Sunnyside. I knew my car was safe on the side of the road because I was in Serpent territory. Walking along the gravel to his trailer, I felt a pit growing in my stomach. I could have given the jacket to Jughead, or Toni, or Fangs to give to him. No, you couldn’t. I had to see him one last time. The last time couldn’t have really been the last time.

“No, man. I’m all good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not like we were going to work anyway.” Is that? Are they… are they talking about me?

“What do you mean?” Fangs asked. I stopped dead in my tracks behind a random trailer. I was far enough away that neither of them could see me.

“Kennedy is,” Sweetpea paused, “she’s the experiment. You know, try the pretty little rich girl from the North side. See how that goes. See what it’s like.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Look at Betty and Jug.”

“Kennedy is not Betty.”

“Okay?”

“Look. Fangs. Kennedy is the girl who marries the CPA. She buys a house with him in the suburbs with a picket fence. They have a couple or three kids and buy a golden retriever who loves everyone. She doesn’t marry the guy who’s in a gang. We are both better off for this.”

I was stunned. I didn’t know what to do. I knew I couldn’t go out there and make my presence known. But I had his stupid jacket. Jones. I ran back to the entrance of the trailer park and went around the other way to get to the Jones’ trailer. I still had a key that I was going to give back after I gave Nathan, Sweetpea, back his jacket. Leaving the jacket on the kitchen table, I grabbed an old envelope and a pen. This doesn’t belong to me. I wrote quickly. It was messy but I knew he would know who it was from and who it was for. I left the note and the key beside the jacket. Again, I couldn’t look back as I walked away.

My mom and I arrived in Evergreen County just in time for me to be enrolled in school before the first day of classes. I would be attending Liberty High School. From the second I walked in the door with my parents to sign my paperwork, I knew this school would be just like the rest. The walls were lined with permanent “do your best” posters and trophy cases at any given turn. The smell that could only be described as eau de jock permeated the halls.

The principal’s office was down the hall. I tried to hang back from my parents. “Ah, you must be the Campbells. Major Campbell. Mrs. Campbell. And Kennedy.” The man I could only assume was the principal, judging by his obviously fake charm and smile, greeted us. “Gary Bolan.” My dad shook his hand firmly.

“Matthew Campbell.”

“You can call me Heather.”

“Of course.”

“Kennedy, come here darling.” My mom called for me. I walked over to her wordlessly.

“Hi.” I nodded. I had done this plenty of times before.

I decided to take advantage of my few more moments of freedom and explore the school. They didn’t need me to fill out medical forms and make sure my transcripts transferred properly. The school was big. Much bigger than Riverdale High. Didn’t seem too hard to navigate though. The sound of weights clashing together caught my attention. I followed the sound and found myself standing at the open door of the fitness centre.

There was a boy working out. He seemed hyper focused on his actions. It was mesmerizing in a way. The boy was tall. Not as tall as Nate. Most people weren’t. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say maybe between six feet and six foot two. It was hard to tell since he was sitting down. His brown hair was damp with sweat. I watched him. Not in a creepy way. Just… observed. I could tell by his form and muscles that he was probably an athlete. Judging by his size, maybe football? Small beads of sweat trailed down his tan neck. I coughed suddenly and caught this mystery boy off guard. He set the weights down and turned to face me. His face was…. And the cheekbones. Kennedy. What? He’s pretty.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No worries.” He stood up and used his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. Those abs. Good Lord. I blinked quickly to keep myself from staring. “I didn’t realize anyone was still here.”

“Oh. My parents are just enrolling me now. We moved here a few days ago from New York.”

“Cool. And you are?”

“Oh. Uh. I’m Kennedy.”

“Montgomery.” He nodded.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #835: A New Me (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

9:45 p.m. at Smash Mansion's Living Room........

Tifa: (Smiles Brightly While Getting her Hair Trim and Cut by Daisy) Thanks again for doing this for me, Daisy. I had no idea you know a thing or two about doing someone's hair.

Daisy: (Smiles Back at Tifa) It's no problem, Tif. I've learned about all of this since I was a kid.

Tifa: You don't say.

Daisy: Yep. I accidentally signed myself up for hair stylist class instead of football.

Tifa: What makes you wanna signed up for football classes in first place?

Daisy: Thought it was cool at the time. I also thought the whole hair stylist gig was boring at first, but I'd actually had a good time there. I learned a lot about too: did you know that the growth rate for humans' hair is just under a 1/2 inch per month which is equal to about 5 inches per year?

Tifa: Huh. I.... actually didn't know that until now. Interesting.

Daisy: I know, right? There's a crap ton of facts about hair that I didn't even know about until now, but I'll tell you about all of that later....Are you sure you're okay with me cutting your hair like this, Tif? I can tell you had it for a really long time now.

Tifa: Yep. I've always had it this long ever since I was a little girl. (Smiles Fondly of the Memories She Has in the Past) We've been through a lot together: Good times, bad times, in betweens. But nowadays, the longer I keep having it around, the more it got me to think and realize that....the long hair itself, represent my past a lot more thoroughly than I thought it would and that maybe....it might be time for me to start moving on from it entirely.

Daisy: So what you're basically saying here is that getting your hair cut down would help you feel more new to yourself in the present going forward.

Tifa: (Happily Nodded a Little) Exactly!......That.... doesn't seem too ambitious, does it?

Daisy: (Smiles Brightly) Of course it doesn't, girlfriend. I totally get what you're coming from in all of this.

Tifa: You do?

Daisy: Yeah. Back in my younger days, when my hair used to be dark and long-

Tifa: Wait. Was it during that time Mario saved you from an evil alien?

Daisy: (Simply Nodded) Correctamundo. I think his name was Tango or something like?.... (Sighs While Shrugging her Shoulders) I don't really remember. But anyways, I was so convinced that beauty and royalty was everything and that it was the only thing that matters to being a princess. (Starts Rolling her Eyes at the Past Memories) So much so that became an actual phase.....

Tifa: (Starts Snickering) A phase?

Daisy: ('Sigh') Yeah. A phase. Hated it every time I think about it...... Buuuuuut eventually, I realized all of that was complete bogus, left it all behind me .....(Smiles Proudly) and became the woman I am right now. Or....rather back when I was a kid. But....you get where I'm coming from in all of this right?

Tifa: (Happily Nodded) I do. And if you ask me, I prefer the current you over the past anyday.

Daisy: (Heart Begins to Melt in Happiness by Tifa's Words) Awww~ Thanks, Tifa~

Tifa: (Giggles Softly) You're welcome, girlfriend. If anything, I should be thanking you for sharing this with me.

Daisy: Eh. It's no problem. (Does One More Trim Before Stopping and Taking a Deep Breath) Okay. I think I'm finish now. (Gives Tifa a Handheld Mirror) What do you think?

Tifa: (Gasps Lightly as She Sees a Reflection of Herself Having a Perfectly Cutted Short Hair) Oh my gosh.....(Smiles Brightly and Excitedly) This looks amazing on me!~

Daisy: You really think so?

Tifa: (Got Up From her Seat and Gives Daisy a Hug) I know so, Daisy. Thank you soooo much~

Daisy: (Giggles Softly as She Hugs Tifa Back) It's no problem at all, Tif. I mean, damn. I never expected it to turn out THIS good.....

'Door Open'

Cloud: (Walking into the Mansion with Luigi and Dedede) ('Sigh') This is the last we'll ever let you talk to the police, De.

Dedede: (Glares at Cloud) Oh come on now! How was I suppose to know she would go ahead and give me another ticket?

Luigi: Your majesty, you can't just going along and flirt with a police officer like that. Even if she was, and I quote, "Prettier than a Strawberry Ice-Cream Sundae".

Dedede: Hey, you can't blame an old man for trying at least. I really thought it would work that time....

Cloud: We can and will. And no, it didn't work.

Daisy: WEEGIEEE!~ (Makes her Way to Luigi and Hugs Him Before Pouting at Him and the Others) What is this we hear about you three getting stopped by the police tonight?

Luigi: (Chuckles a Bit Awkwardly) Sorry about worrying you guys, Daisy. We kinda drove our motorcycles pass the speeding limits on the empty roads.

Cloud: (Starts Rolling his Eyes While Pointing at Dedede) It gets worse when casanova over here thought that flirting with an officer would actually get her to give us a warning instead.

Daisy: (Starts Snickering) Casanova and flirting?.... I'm sorry. But are we REALLY talking about the same Dedede here?

Dedede: (Glares at the Laughing Princess) Oh hush up, girl! I can be a well-balanced ladies man anytime I want!!!

Daisy: Yeah right!~ (Already Has a Teasing Smirk on her Face) And how was that flirting tactic with the police lady went again?~

Cloud: Terribly.

Dedede: (Starts Growling Angrily) I'm warning y'all!!....

Tifa: (Sighs While Making her Way to the Gang) Well, regardless, we're glad you three came back home safely.

Cloud: Thanks, Ti-(Eyes Widened in Genuine Surprise at Tifa's New Looks) fa?.....

Luigi: (Eyes Widened at Tifa as Well) Tifa.....Is that really you?

Dedede: Dayuum, girl. That haircut looks great on you.

Tifa: (Giggles Softly) Thanks, your majesty. Daisy got it cut for me a few minutes ago.

Luigi: (Turns to his Girlfriend) You did?

Daisy: (Proudly Nodded) Yep!~ You might not know this about me, Weeg, but I've made a pretty decent name for myself as a hair stylist growing up....I mean, it has been years since I've done this. So I'm not entirely sure if I did a good enough of the cut or....

Luigi: (Smiles Softly) You did a great job, Daisy.

Cloud: (Nodded in Agreement) I agree. It looks amazing on her.

Tifa: (Eyes Widened at Cloud a Little in Genuine Surprise) You really think so? I mean, aren't you gonna miss the long hair I always had ever since we were kids?

Cloud: I will, but I'm always up for a change every once and while. Plus, I'll always think you're beautiful no matter how different you look.

Tifa: (Heart Begins to Melt in Pure Happiness as She Hugs Cloud Lovingly) Has anyone told you how much of a sweetheart you really are?~

Cloud: (Shrugs) Eh. Doesn't really fit my style. Luigi's more of a sweetheart than I'll ever be really.

Daisy: FACTS!

Tifa: (Giggles Softly) I mean, yeah. But you'll always be my sweetheart~ (Kiss Cloud on the Cheek)

Daisy: Hey, Cloud!~ If you want, I can give your spiky hair a fresh new look-

Cloud: I'll pass.

Daisy: You sure?

Cloud: Yep.

Daisy: Positive.

Cloud: Positive.

Daisy: ..........I mean, if you're absolutely su-

Cloud: I'm sure, Daisy.

Daisy: ('Groans a Little') Fiiiiine..... (Turns to Luigi) You want me to do your hair too, sweetie?

Luigi: (Smiles Sheepishly at his Girlfriend) Maybe some other time, dear.....

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@ma-lemons

@26shann

@albion-93

@italian-love-cake

@illyrilex

[aellynera]

Calavera (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

(ok, so, it’s been a while since i posted my writing. it’s not that i haven’t been writing, but i’ve started like eight things and nothing felt completely right. so, yeah. then tonight, boom.)

CALAVERA (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

Word Count: 2120(ish)

Summary: It’s a day of celebration, in more ways than one.

Warnings: A naughty innuendo but nothing else, not even a language warning, I’m not sure what got into me. It’s all fluffy.

“Baby, hold still,” Santiago commanded, his hand lightly slapping your knee to emphasize his point.

“Sorry,” you muttered. You straightened your back, let out a deep breath, and tried to comply.

Your eyes were closed so all you saw was dancing blackness. The wet, pasty feeling on your face almost made you jump but you held your reaction down as best you could and hoped Santiago didn’t notice.

He had asked to paint you. Your first response, with a laugh, had been, “Like one of your French girls?” and Santiago swore if you ever made a joke like that again, he wouldn’t be painting you with paint. Then you had asked, completely (not) innocently, what the problem with that was and how exactly was that even a threat, which led to a half-hour delay in the original mission and another half-hour of showering and grabbing some clean clothes.

None of which you were sorry for, by the way. Not at all.

So, then Santiago asked if he could paint you for real. Your face, specifically, as a calavera. A sugar skull. Today was November 1, and for him it held special significance. It was Day of the Dead, Día de Muertos. And although Santiago was neither Mexican nor particularly Catholic, at least not in a practicing sense any more, he could hardly deny the day was especially significant for him, both in his past and, possibly, more meaningful now in his adulthood.

In his past, because of the memories associated with his parents’ celebrating every year. The altars and the food and all the magical colors that flowed through the air. And the skeletons. As a kid, those were always cool.

In his present, to remember all the family and friends and comrades he had lost. Those he had loved and cherished and would never be forgotten.

You were also neither Mexican nor particularly religious, especially not Catholic, but you could appreciate the meaning behind the holiday and were happy to celebrate with him.

So when Santiago asked, a second time, if he could paint your face, you immediately said yes.

Which is now how you found yourself in your home office, the one you shared with your boyfriend, with every single light in the room flipped on - we need proper lighting conditions, Santiago had insisted. You were perched in a swivel chair, your eyes closed and your boyfriend, perched in his own chair across from you, humming a merry tune and occasionally singing a lyric in Spanish as he did, in fact, paint your face with actual paint this time.

Quite a few minutes had passed since he brought a brush laden with wet goop to your face. “Santi? What are you doing, can I please open my eyes?” you asked, anxious to find out exactly what he was doing.

“Mmm, not yet, cariño,” Santiago replied. You felt a brush land on your nose, the tickle immediately taking hold of your senses as he began to paint again. “Keep ‘em closed until I say so.”

“Santiiiiii,” you whined, annoyed with both the feeling and his sentiment. A centipede crawling across your toes would be more welcome than the intense prickling under the bristles of his paintbrush.

You heard the amusement in his voice as he repeated, “Baby. Just sit still.”

‘Fine,” a huff escaped your lips. “I just don’t...why is there like an hour between what you paint on me, it’s not like we have mirrors in here so I don’t understand why I can’t open my eyes, and what the hell are you doing when you’re not doing things to my face?”

His brush continued its work as he considered your questions and answered them in turn. “Well, one, it’s not an hour, it’s like 10 minutes so I can let the paint dry before working on the next part. Two, because if you keep your eyes closed, your face stays in the same position and it makes this a lot easier and the end result much better.”

You made a small grunt of reluctant understanding at that.

“And three, I actually do have a small mirror in here, so I can work on my face while the paint on yours sets.”

“Wait. You’ve been painting your own face this whole time?”

“Of course I have,” Santiago replied with a genuine laugh. “It’s an important day. I’m not gonna paint yours and not have one to match.”

“I don’t even get how you can paint your own face, and why have we never done this before?”

“I’ve been doing this for years, honey. Well, I mean, I haven’t actually done it for a while, but it seemed like a good time to start again. Painting my own face isn’t that hard since I’ve done it so much, and I have done my own camo before.”

“I imagine this is a little different than camo.”

“Different, yes, but not necessarily easier. Just different. Now will you please stop talking and stay still, I need to work on your lips and cheeks,” Santiago said sternly.

Your breath snaked out of your lungs and you used every ounce of self-control to stop moving, but before you let your body go lax and still, you asked quickly, “Can you tell me the meaning behind the calavera again? I know I’ve heard it before, but...can you just keep talking? If I focus on your voice, it’ll help me stop squirming.”

“That’s not what happened earlier,” Santiago smirked.

“Santi,” you giggled, then tried to act as stern as he had been a few moments ago. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry, mi amor,” he replied quietly, the brush now painting lines on your lips. He continued in a warm, slow voice that nearly put you under, but you fought off the insistent call of sleep.

“Okay, so Día de Muertos is when we remember and pray for family and friends who have passed on. The calaveras, or sugar skulls, represent those people. The large one are for adults, and the small ones are for children. They can be decorative, or edible, or artistic like the ones I’m painting on our faces. It’s a huge holiday in Mexico, and my family always celebrated it since we were Catholic, and I’ve always just really liked the artistry in the face-painting so I learned how to do it. Now let that dry and then I’ll do the rest of the design.”

You sighed and sat back. You heard him humming to himself again, presumably as he worked on his own face, and waited.

A warm vestige of sleep did take you under this time, and when you felt wet paint hit your forehead, you nearly went through the ceiling, almost springing out of your chair. You probably would have made an actual hole above you, but Santiago’s strong hands pressed you to the leather beneath you.

You briefly considered that hole wouldn’t have been a total loss. You wanted to put a ceiling fan in that room anyway. You tried your best to clear your sleepy cobwebs without actually shaking your head.

“Baby,” he chided.

“I know, I know, stay still,” you muttered, returning to upright.

Santiago shook his head, even though you couldn’t see him. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” your voice remained a mutter.

“You know,” he replied, “I could paint, like, all of you. That would be really sexy.”

This time, you chose not to verbally respond and you kicked his foot instead.

“Ow,” he grumbled. “Party pooper.”

“Just finish the job, Santiago.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He worked in silence for a few minutes more, adding...dots?...around your eyes - as far as you could tell with them still closed - and what felt like teardrop shapes on your forehead, and swirly shapes on your cheeks. 

Santiago finally made a noise, humming in satisfaction. “Okay, baby, you’re done. Now, just hang out like that for a few more minutes while I finish mine, yeah?”

“No,” you whined under your breath, making Santiago laugh. You laughed with him. He knew for all the trouble of making you sit still for so long, you were kidding, and he was grateful for it.

As you pushed your chair back slightly, you turned slow circles. You may still have to sit there, but at least you could do something other than just sit there now.

Mostly, you really wondered what Santiago was up to. You could hear him get out of his chair. You could hear vague rustling out in the living room, and then in your bedroom. You felt the change in air current when he came back into the office and hear several soft *fwick* sounds. You could hear his once-again humming voice, and noticed that his song had changed to…

That song. Your song. The song that was playing the first time you both said I love you.

“You can open your eyes now, mi amor,” Santiago called, a gentle whisper.

Gentle, flickering candlelight met your gaze first, the small mirror and your reflection in front of you second.

White paint was the backdrop on your face, with your eyes, nose, and lower cheeks blacked out, and black lines representing teeth painted over your lips. Purple dots ringed your eyes. A red flower and blue teardrop shapes graced your forehead, and various swirl patterns came down from your forehead and lined your cheeks. A red heart sat on your chin.

You had no idea your boyfriend was this creative and this talented. Another of Santiago Garcia’s hidden gifts.

“Santi, I lov---” you started, but then you noticed the third thing.

Santiago’s face.

Hovering directly above the small mirror, Santiago’s face looked mostly the same as yours. Same colors, minus the flower, more teardrops, and the dots surrounding his eyes were green, but otherwise, the same patterns. Except for the words.

Except for the words.

Above his right eyebrow, will.

Above his left eyebrow, you.

On his right cheek, marry.

On his left cheek, me.

You were pretty sure your eyes would pop out of your now-sugar-skull if they got any wider. Your lips parted but nothing came out.

Santiago lowered the mirror, tossing it onto the nearby desk. He sat back down on his office chair and took both of your hands in his. An eyebrow cocked and the corner of his mouth curled up before he pulled his bottom lip nervously with his teeth.

After a good minute, your brain reactivated. “Santi,” you started, “not that I have to think about my answer, but I do have my own question.”

“Okay?” his voice was still soft, and you could hear the slight waver in it. He really was nervous.

“Something tells me that’s not traditional Día de Muertos calavera design, so…?” you trailed off, cocking an eyebrow back at him.

He nodded. “You would be correct,” he smiled fully now, “but one of the really old meanings behind calaveras was rebirth into the next stage of life. And that’s what I felt when I met you and got to know you. I got to leave all the bad things I did in my past behind and spend all the good times in the present with you. And I want to spend them with you in the future, forever. You’re my rebirth, my next stage, my forever. So...what do you say?”

You didn’t stop the springing out of your chair this time. You pounced into Santiago’s lap, nearly knocking you both off his chair as you cupped the sides of his face. Part of your brain hazily registered that you were smearing his face paint, and your own with your tears running down your cheeks, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Not even a little bit, not about that.

“Yes!” you cried. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Santiago responded by pulling your closer and pressing his lips to yours, over and over, while his hands held your face.

After a few minutes, you both separated for air, and you couldn’t help the small groan that left your mouth.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Santiago whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

You motioned between the two of you, and grabbed the mirror so he could see what you were talking about. The beautiful paint job he had done was now completely destroyed, colors mixing and smearing, like an artist’s palette that had been dropped on the floor and then stepped on.

Or a clown with very dubious make-up application skills.

“The paint. You’re going to have to redo all this paint.”

Santiago laughed. You were right. The initial beauty was gone, but something even more magnificent had taken its place.

“Worth it.”

~end~

Tagging: @anetteaneta @darksideofclarke @girlwiththemostcake @deeandbobbymcgee @itspdameronthings @rosemarysbaby13 @writefightandflightclub @spider-starry @yourbucky084 @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @veuliee2 (tag list always open - inbox me or comment if you’d like to be tagged)

[who-ya-gonna-call-winchesters]

A Learning Experience - jack kline x reader

Sam and Dean Winchester leave their little sister behind on a hunt to be a glorified babysitter for a certain nephilim. Y/n introduces Jack to a bunch of new things like pancakes, grocery stores and chick flicks. A few harmless questions arise. Fluff.

Word Count: 2,154 

masterlist

If anyone had told you a couple months ago that you would be babysitting Lucifer’s son while your brothers went out hunting without you, you would have laughed in their faces. But that was then and now you were cooking breakfast for two in the bunker’s kitchen balancing your phone against your head with your shoulder. 

“Real nice move, assholes. A note. What a nice way to tell your sister you’re abandoning her”, you hissed.

“We’re not abandoning you, Y/n, it’s just a couple weeks. Jack isn’t ready to come with us and he shouldn’t be left alone”, Dean replied, “According to Sam.”

“Are you keeping the knives away from him?”, Sam asked in the background. 

“I did not realize that was something I had to do but I think I’ll lock them up now”, you said.

“He’s not gonna hurt you, I’m worried about him hurting himself.”

“Great, so you abandoned me with a suicidal nephilim in a bunker that no one knows about.”

“It wasn’t my idea”, Dean grumbled.

“Shut up, De, I know you don’t like him but he’s just a kid”, you rolled your eyes. 

Your oldest brother laughed, “You two are like the same age if you don’t wanna get technical-”

“Which”, Sam interjected, “is why I think it’s a good idea you stay with him at home. You can teach him stuff and make sure he takes care of himself.”

“I’m literally a babysitter. You guys owe me big time when you get back”, you said. 

“Something I’m sure you won’t let us ever forget.”

“Goodbye, Dean”, you hung up the phone and plated the last of the pancakes. 

After setting the table you cleared your throat and called out for Jack in your best mother hen voice. It echoed around the empty bunker for a few moments before you heard footsteps approaching and a head of blonde hair poked in from around the door frame. 

“Yes, Y/n?”, Jack asked. 

“Sit your ass down and eat, breakfast is ready”, you gestured towards the pancakes on the table.

“What are these?”, he asked, staring at the pancakes after he sat down. 

You stared at him, “Are you kidding? They’re pancakes, you’ve never had pancakes before?”

He shook his head. 

“Well, these are the best breakfast food in the whole world. I don’t really know how to explain them better than that”, you said, putting a couple on his plate and passing him the bottle of syrup, “I think, you’ll like them. You can put syrup on them if you want…”, You watched in abject horror as he drowned his pancakes in the substance before digging in. 

Jack grinned through a mouthful of food, “These are good. I like pancakes.”

You laughed, “I’ll make them for you every morning as long as you don’t tell Sam about the amount of sugar you just ingested.”

Jack nodded, “Deal.”

After a couple days of making three square meals a day for a nephilim that seemingly never got full, especially of your pancakes, you had to make a trip to the grocery store. Syrup was at the top of your shopping list but you were running low on other actual essentials and you didn’t know if a nephilim could actually eat unhealthily but Jack was half human after all and Sam might appreciate you putting a salad into the boy. 

You knocked on the door to his room, in between yours and Sam’s incase anything were to happen, and stuck your head in. He was reading, something you encouraged considering how many pop culture references your brother used, besides Harry Potter was a classic and you were showing him the movies as he gradually finished each book. Which was surprisingly quick before you realized that Jack didn’t sleep nearly as long as you did. 

“Hey, Jack, you wanna get out of here for a little while?”

He looked up at you in confusion, “Sam and Dean said it would be best for me to stay here.”

“Well, I don’t see those dummies anywhere now, besides we need more food. It’s just a quick run to the store. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to though”, you said. 

He shook his head and stood up, “No, I’ll come with you.”

“Cool.”

It really was supposed to be a quick trip to the store until you learned just how much food Jack had never had before. 

“Do you normally get this much food?”, Jack asked, looking over the nearly full shopping cart. 

“Living with Sam and Dean? Yes. But we’re getting a lot of stuff I don’t usually buy. It’s high time you lost your mac and cheese virginity”, you said as you examined the tomatoes.

“What is that?”, he asked tilting his head in a very Castiel esque manner, which you found absolutely adorable. 

What? Mac and cheese? It’s kinda in the name, just macaroni and cheese-”

“No, virginity.”

You think you probably rivaled the tomatoes in how red your face was, “It’s uh…like when you’ve never done something before. But it’s just a metaphor, normally virginity pertains to um”, you paused. You really did not want to give Jack the sex talk in the middle of the produce section. 

“Intercourse?”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thank god. Wait… 

“How do you know what that is?”

“I saw something on Dean’s laptop-”

“Dean showed you porn?”, you hissed. 

“Not exactly, it was just there”, Jack said nonchalantly. 

You shook your head and put the tomatoes in the cart before dragging Jack off towards the registers. That was enough for today’s outing. 

After about a week, you two had finished all eight Harry Potter movies and had moved onto the rest of Dean’s vast collection of movies. Over the course of your time alone with Jack you had learned he was a huge cuddler. The first time you had sat down on the other side of the couch, he pulled you closer by the second act. Not that you minded, Jack was warm and it kept the chill off, the bunker was drafty. It was only for that reason. Not because you were developing a huge crush on Satan’s son. 

Tonight you were watching some romantic chick flicky movie you didn’t even know Dean owned. Well, Jack was watching it. You were nose deep in your book with one hand curled in Jack’s hair as he rested his head on your lap. 

“They’re supposed to be in love, right?”, Jack asked. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda the whole point of the movie”, you said, not looking up from your book. 

“Then why is he hurting her?”

That got your attention, you looked up at the screen. The guy in the movie was pushing his female love interest up against the wall and gazing into her eyes with an intense smolder that made you shiver a little. 

“He’s not. It’s kinda meant to be romantic. It’s building sexual tension”, you replied as the pair on screen started making out. “See? Now they realize they’ve been in love the whole time.”

Jack turned to look up at you, “How do you know when you’re in love though?”

“I don’t know, you feel all tingly and happy when you’re around someone you love. You really like spending time with them, I guess. These are some loaded questions. Haven’t you been watching the movie?”

Jack flushed, “I wasn’t really paying attention to some of it.”

You shrugged, “You didn’t miss much, most chick flicks are all the same anyway.”

The end credits rolled down the screen a few minutes later and you closed your book. Jack looked like he had zoned out again as you continued to play with his hair. He was probably tired. Even nephilim had to burn out at some point. 

“I think I’m gonna head to bed. You look like you should too”, you suggested, pushing a few stray stands of blonde away from his forehead. 

“Maybe. I’ll only wake up in a couple hours anyway. Can I stay up longer? I want to watch another movie”, he said, sitting up to let you up.

“Go ahead. I’m not your mom, you can stay up late if you want. Just don’t start Star Wars without me.”

Being a Winchester meant very few nights of peaceful sleep, luckily tonight was just the usual nightmares of being torn apart by various monsters. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before. So when you woke up in a cold sweat, you shook off the fear and decided to grab a drink before going back to sleep. The clock read 3:00 AM in big red letters, so you had only been out for a few hours. 

Jack’s bedroom door was shut when you walked past, so you assumed he had turned in sometime after you. You crept down to the kitchen as quietly as possible to avoid waking him. You grabbed a drink of water and checked your phone for any notifications, nothing from the boys yet but they weren’t supposed to be home until next week due to complications according to their last call. From somewhere down the hall you heard a floorboard creek. If Jack had woken up you would have heard his door, the hinges in the bunker weren’t exactly well oiled. The hairs stood up on the back of your neck and you set your glass down silently. 

The hall was dimly lit but there was no sign of anything that could have made the noise. You sighed. You were just on edge from that nightmare, the bunker was decades old if ever there was the time to use the “house settling” excuse it was with this ancient building. You turned the corner back down your hallway and was suddenly slammed up against the wall. You let out a gasp that would have turned into a very loud scream if your eyes hadn’t met a pair of blue ones. 

“Jack”, you breathed, “You scared the shit out of me.” 

Jack stared you down silently. His grip on your wrists was tight and it made you wonder if he knew just how tight. His gaze was intense almost like…

“You can ease up a little bit there, tiger”, you whispered and his eyes softened along with his grip. 

“I’m sorry. Did I actually hurt you?”, he asked nervously. 

You shook your head, “I think I’ll live. What are you doing?”

His cheeks turned red, “In the movie, you said this was romantic.”

Oh. Now it was your turn for your cheeks to heat up. 

“Jack...”

“I feel tingly and happy when I’m around you, Y/n”, he said sincerely, “You said that means I’m in love.”

“You’ve never been in love before, Jack. Love is more than just tingly feelings. It’s something that you have to figure out and learn on your own”, you explained. 

“You don’t love me?”

That damn near broke your heart. You shook free one of your hands and caressed his cheek softly. “Jack, I like you way too much than I should already and could well be on the road to loving you. But I don’t want you to think you’re in love with me just because I’m one of the only people you’re around-”

He shook his head, “I’ve seen other people though. No one has ever made me feel like you do. I thought there was something wrong with me but it doesn’t feel bad. It feels good, like pancakes or grocery shopping or you playing with my hair.” 

Forget being on the road, you had reached your destination. You were definitely in love with Lucifer’s son. His eyes bore into yours and you couldn’t take it anymore. You surged forward and pressed your lips to his. His hands landed on your hips as you threaded your fingers into his hair. The kiss was hot and messy, that was the only indication that this was Jack’s first time doing something like this. Of course he would also be a perfect kisser. You pulled away after a few more moments, breathing harshly. 

Jack beamed at you, “Can we do that again?”

You laughed, “Yes, Jack. But maybe after a couple hours of sleep.” You swore he was pouting.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”, he asked, “I heard you earlier, you had another nightmare.”

“Did I wake you?”

He shook his head, “No, I haven’t gone to bed yet.”

That’s why you had heard creaking, it really was Jack moving around. 

If anyone had told Sam and Dean Winchester a couple months ago that they would come home to find their little sister cuddled up to Lucifer’s son in bed, they would have laughed in their faces. But that was then and now Dean was looking absolutely mortified and about to blow as Sam dragged him out of the doorway so as to not wake them up.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. II) - p.l. dubois

Part I

Part two is here! Things start to heat up in this chapter, exciting stuff’s happening! I hope you guys like reading it as much as I’m loving writing - please slide into my inbox, let me know what you think! Reblogs are amazing too, it’s how we know people are liking what we’re putting out and helps to reach more people! (Plus it’s one of the joys of my life to read the tags. Seriously, so much fun.)

Part II (7.2k)

June 18 (fri)

“If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to sell it,” Laurel said, running a hand through her hair. “The fewer people who know the truth, the better.” 

Pierre nodded. “Agreed.” He sat back in his chair. “What do you think your parents will say?” 

Laurel laughed. “Uh, they think I’m seeing someone, actually.”

 “Oh?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, “it was easier to just say I had a boyfriend than deal with their endless pestering, you know?” 

“So they’d buy it if you just told them you were getting married?” 

She shrugged. “I think so. You know we’re not particularly close, they haven’t met any of my boyfriends since I was in high school. So if I told them I was engaged, I don’t think they’d bat an eye, if I’m honest.” Pierre could sense there was more to the story, more that she wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t want to press. “What about yours?” she asked. 

“Well, we’ve got a couple options,” Pierre said, cracking a smile and leaning back into the cushions. “It was a drunken mistake.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Then they’d just tell us to get a divorce.” 

“We fell in love after the first date.”

“Even less believable,” Laurel said, the corner of her lip twitching. 

“Or…,” Pierre said, kicking his feet up on the ottoman, a wicked grin on his face, “I got you pregnant and want to do the right thing.” 

Laurel snorted. “Little issue there.” 

“What?” 

“I’m not pregnant.”

Pierre ducked his head, blushing. “Right. There’s that.”

She nodded. “There’s that.” She tapped her fingers on the coffee table. “I’ve got it.” Pierre looked up. “We’ve been friends for a long time, couple years or something. Madeline went to York, so we met when you and Patrice came to visit. We realized we had feelings for each other a few months ago, everything moved super quickly since we already knew each other and had that foundation.”

“So we thought ‘why wait,’” Pierre finished. 

“Exactly,” Laurel said. “Why wait, if we already knew.”

“It’s a classic friends-to-lovers story, a tale as old as time,” he sighed wistfully. 

Laurel slapped his shoulder. “This is serious,” she said, but she was smiling all the same. “Okay, so we’ve at least got that worked out. Madeline and Patrice will obviously know, but other than that…” She trailed off. 

He nodded, and an understanding passed between them. “It’s a need-to-know basis.”

“It is.” Laurel shifted her laptop on the coffee table, squeezing closer to Pierre so he could see the screen. “So, we have to go down to the courthouse for a meeting with the court clerk who will perform the ceremony, bring birth certificates and ID, and —”

He glanced over at Laurel, her tongue caught between her teeth. “And?”

“You have to publish a declaration of intent to marry twenty days before the wedding. Online. In public.” 

Pierre looked oblivious. “So?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “So, it has the date of the wedding and our full names and our whole entire addresses. And in case you’ve forgotten, you’re kind of a professional hockey player.” 

He shrugged. “All due respect, Laurel, but,” he glanced at the website, “who actually checks these things?” He had a point there, she thought, but she wasn’t about to let him win. 

“But your address, you’re not worried about that getting out there?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted. “But my building’s got a receptionist and I’ve got locks on my doors. And plus,” Pierre added, “I’ve really never had much of a problem flying under the radar here. When I go back home, back to the suburbs, sure. And a little bit in Columbus, obviously. But there’s what, two million people in Montréal? I’m not on the Habs, so even the hockey fans here really couldn’t care less.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. Also, uh, living situation. We should probably talk about that.” 

“You’re moving in with me?” He said it like a question, but not as if it was something that would surprise him, or something he was opposed to. He said it like it was something he already knew the answer to. “I’ve got three rooms, plenty of space, Phil and Georgia would love to have a new sister. You and Piper would fit right in,” he said, reaching down to scratch her behind the ears. “Plus it’s got a great gym in the lobby, you can cancel your membership to that seedy place downtown with that trainer who always stares at you when you do weights.” Laurel’s ears perked up; she was surprised he remembered. She did have a gym downtown that she tried to make it to a few times a week, and there was that one creepy trainer, but she had only mentioned it to him once in passing. “Plus it has hot yoga once a week, and I know you’ve been dying to try.” That much was true. 

“At least let me help pay for rent,” she tried to bargain. 

“Nope!” he said, wincing a second later. “I didn’t mean it in like a patronizing way, I know you’re perfectly capable of pulling your own weight. I meant like I bought it outright, so there’s no rent to be paid. I’ll let you pay the electricity bill if you want?”

Laurel grinned. “That would make me feel better, thank you.” After looking at her computer for a minute, she spoke again. “How long have you had the apartment for?”

Pierre scratched his chin. “Couple years? I bought it after signing the contract this year. Some guys buy a Lamborghini, I bought an apartment. I don’t own the place in Columbus though.”

“How come?” Laurel asked, though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer. 

“Even with the contract, so much is up in the air. I could get traded in the middle of the season, or in the summer or whenever, and I don’t want to have just bought a house when I’ve got to move to Vancouver or wherever when the ink hasn’t even dried on the papers.”

This time, it was Laurel’s turn to leave with an unsaid question. “Is tomorrow good? To go down and get everything squared away at the courthouse?”

He bobbed his head. “Yeah, I’ve got some off-ice training in the morning, but any time after noon or so is good for me.”

Laurel nodded, making a few taps on her computer. “Okay, I’ve got us booked in at one, that good?”

“Yeah,” Pierre said, nodding in affirmation. “Now I’ve got to come up with an excuse to drive to my parents’ and get my birth certificate.”

---

It didn’t actually turn out to be all that difficult for Pierre; he made the drive back to Saint-Agathe-des-Monts later that afternoon, telling his parents he needed it to renew his health insurance card. He wasn’t sure they actually believed him, but his mom didn’t bat an eye before handing it over. Pierre spent the rest of the evening at home, cooking pasta, petting the dogs, and wondering what in the hell he had agreed to. He wasn’t second-guessing himself, not by a long-shot, but when she clicked that button to book their appointment, the gravity of the situation finally started to hit him. In less than a month, he was going to be getting married. 

June 19 (sat) 

Laurel met Pierre on the steps of the Montréal courthouse at a quarter to one the next day, clutching the straps of her tote like a lifeline. “Woah, Laurel, you’re holding that like you’ve got a bomb in there,” Pierre said. 

She flashed him a nervous smile. “No bomb, just very official very legal documents. Don’t want to lose it.” 

He held out his hand. “You ready?” 

Laurel was surprised at the gesture. Not shocked that he was being kind, but that he was cognizant enough to recognize that she was nervous, and wanted to do something about it. She took his hand. “Ready.”

It only took a minute to find the office, and a few more before the receptionist called them back to the clerk’s office. She introduced herself as Juliette Bergeron, congratulated them on their engagement, and asked to see the paperwork. Passports and birth certificates were handed over, signatures were signed on dotted lines, and half an hour later, they walked out of the courthouse with an appointment for a wedding on July 10. 

“Well, there’s that crossed off the checklist,” Laurel said, leaning up against the handrails as they stood on the courthouse steps. They had actually made a real checklist, a series of tasks on a shared Notes page of everything that needed to be completed before the wedding. Book the ceremony and post the public notice were done, but there were still a dozen-odd tasks left before they actually could get married. Starting with telling their parents. While they had developed as airtight a cover story as she supposed one could when they were committing what would charitably be referred to as citizenship fraud, they had agreed it was going to be far less messy to “come clean” as fiancés than after the wedding. Laurel had wanted to text them the news, or call so early they’d still be asleep and she could just avoid the conversation altogether, but Pierre had convinced her to FaceTime. “I know you guys aren’t super close, but I think they deserve that much, Laurel,” he had said, and he was right. Deep down, she knew he was right. 

“Ready?” Pierre asked, rubbing her back soothingly. 

Laurel flashed him a tight smile before pressing her mom’s contact. “As I’ll ever be.” Three agonizingly long rings later, her mom picked up. 

“Laurel? What are you doing calling, honey? Is everything okay?”

She let out a nervous giggle. “Does something have to be wrong for me to call my parents?”

“No,” Cheryl clucked, “but to be fair, you don’t call often.”

Laurel rubbed the back of her neck in discomfort. “That’s true. Uh, anyways, is dad there?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” her mom said, starting to catch onto the fact that maybe this wasn’t quite your run-of-the-mill check-in call. “What’s this all about, pumpkin?” 

The old term of endearment, one she hadn’t heard in years, brought tears to the corners of her eyes. “Can you call him in? I’d rather tell you both at the same time.”

Cheryl nodded, worry crossing her brow. “Doug? Laurel’s on the phone, she’s got something to tell us. Sounds important.”

“Coming,” Laurel heard her dad say in the background. A moment later, he padded into view. “Hey, Laurel, Mom said you’ve got some news?” 

Laurel nodded. “Yeah, just something I thought you guys should know. It’s not bad, you’re just going to be surprised, so I need you to keep an open mind, okay?”

“Who is he?” Doug asked, rubbing his forehead with an exasperated expression. 

She blanched. “He? Who’s he?” There’s no way he guessed...right?

“The jackass who got you pregnant, who else?” 

Laurel almost choked on her own spit. “Pregnant? Who said I’m pregnant? I’m not pregnant!”

Both of her parents let out an audible sigh of relief. “Well, Laurel, what conclusion did you expect us to jump to when you called us out of the blue and said you had important news?”

Laurel bit her lip; they had a point. “Fair. But, uh, rest assured, I’m not pregnant. I’m smarter than that.” She paused, steeling her nerves. “Remember that guy I told you I was seeing a few months ago?”

Her mom squinted like she was looking into the sun. “Vaguely? You didn’t really tell us much about him. Just that he was tall, nice, you met through friends.” It was a believable enough explanation back then, and Laurel was beyond grateful it dovetailed perfectly into the story she and Pierre had conjured up. “You didn’t even tell us his name.”

Laurel reached out her free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the phone, and made a grabby motion for his hand. He interlaced his fingers with hers. “Well, his name’s Pierre-Luc Dubois—”

Doug interrupted. “Very French.”

She grimaced. “I do live in Québec, Dad. But anyways, his name’s Pierre-Luc Dubois and we’re getting married.”

They sat still on the other end of the call, so still that if it weren’t for her mom’s rapid blinking she would have thought the call had been dropped. “Married?” her mom asked softly. 

“Yes, married.”

“How long have you even been seeing each other?” Doug asked, dumbfounded. 

“A little under six months. I know it’s not long, and I know it seems sudden, but we’ve known each other for a long time, you know? We met when I was still back in Toronto at university, Madeline introduced us.” Her parents nodded; Madeline, they knew. Madeline, they had met. Madeline, they trusted. “And we finally realized a little bit after New Year’s that we had feelings for each other, and it’s sort of been zero to a hundred ever since. We thought, if we knew we loved each other and we knew we were done looking, then what was the point of waiting for a year or two for it to be a ‘socially acceptable’ time to get married.” Laurel finished. 

Cheryl wrapped her hands around her mug of tea, eyelids still shooting rapid-fire blinks at the screen. “But, Laurel, we haven’t even met this boy, we barely know anything about him!”

Pierre squeezed her hand. “Actually, he’s just off-camera. Want to say hi, P?” 

He walked into view, waving politely at the screen. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Klerken, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Laurel’s had nothing but wonderful things to say.” A little flattery never hurt anybody, he thought. 

“Lovely to meet you, Pierre-Luc,” Cheryl said. “Forgive us if we’re still a little shocked, Laurel’s not normally one to spring things on us like this.”

He laughed. “Perfectly fair. I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to meet until now, but we’ve been trying to get used to the idea ourselves.”

Her dad leaned forward from his spot in the couch, giving Pierre as much of a once-over as he could from nearly 1500 miles away. “I’m not able to give you the normal talking-to I have with any of the other boys Laurel or Maggie have introduced us to, so this is going to have to do.” Maggie? Laurel had primed Pierre for the inevitable grilling, telling him that if it was anything like it had been in the past, it would be all bark and no bite. “So what do you do for work, Pierre-Luc?”

“I’m a professional hockey player in the NHL, I play for the Columbus Blue Jackets.” 

Doug’s eyebrows went up. As much of a front as he tried to put up, he was still a middle-aged man from Minnesota, and there were few things that impressed middle-aged men from Minnesota more than their daughters being suddenly engaged to NHL players. “NHL, huh? That’s very impressive. So you’re from Québec, then?”

“Yes, sir,” Pierre answered. “My hometown’s a little outside of the city, but I live in Montréal now. My mom’s from Georgia, though, so I’ve got dual citizenship and some family still down there.” 

Her parents didn’t take too kindly to the news that the wedding was in three weeks, since it was too tight a fit to be able to get time off, but promised to visit later in the summer to make a proper introduction to their new son-in-law. Her father continued to pepper him with questions about his hobbies, family, and how he takes his steak — according to the Doug Klerken rules, any man who orders anything above medium is not to be trusted — until Laurel mercifully cut him off, telling her parents they were late to meet up with some friends. “That wasn’t so bad,” Pierre said as Laurel slipped her phone into her purse, immediately plugging it into her portable charger as the FaceTime had drained all but 18% of her battery. 

Laurel made a face. “They’re good people and they care about me, but…” She trailed off. “They never really understood why I’d want anything more than I was given. Anything more than the status quo. And it’s just caused a lot of friction between us.” Her eyes flashed as she remembered something. “One more thing.” Pierre’s ears perked up. “If and when you ever talk to my parents again, just...don’t bring up politics.” Laurel grimaced. 

“Republicans?” he asked sympathetically. 

She nodded. “Trump-supporting Republicans. It’s another one of the reasons we don’t talk much anymore. I’m liberal, I’d probably be NDP if I could vote here, and we just don’t share the same values on a lot of things.”

“That’s got to be pretty rough on you,” Pierre said.

“Yeah,” Laurel admitted. “Probably more than I want to let on, but I think it helps that I’m able to get some distance.”

Pierre took a deep breath in. “Your, uh, your dad mentioned something that I wanted to ask you about.” 

Shit. Laurel had been able to avoid the conversation for long enough, but she was beginning to push her luck, and she couldn’t run forever. “Maggie?”

He nodded. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I thought I should ask.”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” Laurel said. “Um, long story short, Maggie’s my sister. It’s July, so…” she did the mental math in her head, “she’d be almost 31. Total free spirit. She left town pretty soon after she graduated, came back every so often but not nearly enough. Last I heard, she was an au pair in Italy.”

“And when was that?”

“Two years ago.” Pierre figured that was as good a time as any to drop the subject, so he did. They had decided that, while they were still downtown, it would be a good opportunity to get the ring shopping out of the way. Pierre looked up the highest-rated jewelry store on Yelp, and they set off on foot. 

Pierre opened the door for her as they stepped inside, greeted by a slightly over-enthusiastic salesman. “You paid for the ceremony fee, so I’m paying for the rings, okay?”

Laurel scoffed. “Hardly a fair trade, don’t you think?”

“I’ll live,” he said, smirking. 

Laurel had been wandering around by the solitaires for a few minutes when Pierre walked up behind her. “I know this isn’t going to be the wedding you’ve always dreamed of,” Pierre said, “but we’re going to make it the best we can.” He looked down at the cases, Laurel’s fingers dancing over the edge of the glass cover. “When you were in high school, or university, did you ever think about what kind of wedding you wanted?” Laurel gave a small nod. “And what kind of ring did you have?”

“I’ve always liked halo cuts,” she said softly.

Pierre inched his hand towards hers, wrapping his fingers around hers. They tensed for a second, but then relaxed into his grip. “Then let’s go get you that halo cut.”

There was no one else in the store aside from the salesman, so the couple was enveloped in a comfortable silence as they browsed. Her eyes stopped on a beautiful floral halo ring with an oval diamond. Pierre nodded to the salesman, who carefully took it off of its stand and handed it to Pierre, who carefully wiggled it onto Laurel’s fourth finger. If she closed her eyes, she was almost able to pretend that it was a proposal. Laurel brought her thumb to the ring, delicately running it over the pavé band with the ghost of a smile on her face. “What do you think?” Pierre asked, as if he couldn’t already tell her answer from the look on her face. 

Laurel looked up at him. “I love it. It fits perfectly.”

“Like Cinderella’s slipper.” He turned to the salesman. “Combien ça coûte?” (How much does it cost?) Laurel heard a number that made her swallow hard, more than anything she’d ever have bought for herself, but Pierre insisted it was a non-issue as he handed his card over. “He said that they’ve got another sample one in the back, and you’re welcome to just wear that one out if it fits.”

“Sounds good.” The salesman handed over the bag with Pierre’s ring and her matching wedding band, thanking them for their purchase before opening the door back into the sunny Montréal afternoon. Laurel craned her neck to try and sneak a peek inside the bag. “Don’t I get to see yours?”

Pierre cracked a wry grin. “Gotta wait until the wedding, babe. Can’t a man have a little mystery?”

“Fair enough,” Laurel said, not missing his use of the pet name but brushing it off as simply a spur-of-the-moment choice. “Do you want to do the honors?” she asked, referring to the all-important checklist. 

Pierre opened his phone with his spare hand, deftly navigating to the app and tapping twice. “Four down, seven to go. We’re on a roll. 

June 24 (thurs)

Surprisingly, telling Pierre-Luc’s parents hadn’t been nearly as intimidating as breaking the news to her own, at least for Laurel. They were shocked — and confused, and had a lot of questions — but were welcoming nonetheless. Patrice was almost like a second son to them, and the fact that she already came with his stamp of approval went a long way into calming them down. “He’s always been quite the romantic, the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. And he cares deeply about the people in his life. That’s you, now,” his mom had said. They drove up to meet them that Sunday, having brunch in his childhood home. That was, in essence, their first real “test” as a couple. They had never had to sell their relationship to anyone before; even when going out with Madeline and Patrice after their “engagement,” nothing ever seemed like it had changed. This time was different. This time had to be different.

His mom fawned over her engagement ring, asking her to spare no details in retelling the story of the proposal. Lucky for her, however, Laurel was the former president of the University of Toronto improv club, and coming up with background stories with exactly zero minutes to prepare was something of a specialty for her. Laurel immediately gushed about how unexpected it was; she was just expecting an evening walk through downtown until they turned down one of the piers by the basilica, reached the end overlooking the river, and Pierre dropped down on one knee. “I think I knew that he was the one way sooner than that, but it’s nice to finally have it be official,” she had said. 

Laurel shook herself out of her memories, turning the door into the locker room. She grabbed a pair of scrubs out of her shared locker — she had never met Alice, the other nurse who used it, but they had made a habit of leaving each other Post-it note greetings — and stripped off her t-shirt and jeans. Shimmying on her scrub pants, she tied them, leaning back into the locker to get her bag as the door shut behind her. She glanced over to the door, waving to Claire. Claire was sweet, a transplant from Vancouver who had lived in Québec as a child and decided to come back to work. She was sweet, having just started working at the beginning of the summer, but she was young, even younger than Laurel. And while her perky and energetic nature lent itself well to the dynamics of the floor, it was a lot for her to get used to. “Hey!” Laurel said, waving as she pulled a chain out of her purse, trying to discreetly unhook it. 

“Hey!” Claire responded, perky as ever. “How has your week been?” She worked Mondays and Thursdays with Laurel, but had the Saturday night shift as well. 

Laurel threw her hair up into a bun. “Good, good, busy. Met up with some friends yesterday, so that was nice, but not much. Took Piper to the dog park.” With my fiancé, she neglected to add. She twisted her ring off, trying to slip it onto the chain without Claire noticing. Like most of her married colleagues, Laurel had taken to wearing her engagement ring on a chain around her neck while at work instead of on her finger. It was under her scrubs most of the time, keeping at bay the questions she wasn’t yet ready to answer, and made it much easier to pull on and off gloves when the occasion called for it. But Claire was eagle-eyed, catching the sparkle of the diamond just as she slid it onto the chain.

She audibly gasped. “Is that an engagement ring?” 

Laurel had to think fast; once again, her improv skills were called up to bat. “No? It’s, uh, it’s a family heirloom, it was my grandma’s. Guess I didn’t think too much about which finger I put it on.” She could tell Claire didn’t quite believe her side of the story, but thankfully, she didn’t press. 

“If you say so,” she said, giving a not-so-subtle wink. 

June 27 (sun)

Laurel was sat in her living room, her TV on in the background as she scrolled absent-mindedly through her phone, savoring her last few hours before she had to go to bed for her 5:30 wake-up call. On a whim, she opened her Twitter. It wasn’t an app she used all that often — mostly just to keep in contact with the handful of high school and college friends who didn’t use Instagram — and she was well aware that she’d probably have to limit her use for her own sanity when she and Pierre went “public” after the wedding, but she liked being able to keep up with everyone. She followed her friends, a handful of celebrities and a few journalists, but her timeline wasn’t flooded with updates. Then she saw the little blue alert on the bottom. One new message. Clicking to her inbox, Laurel saw that it had been sent by Madeline four minutes earlier, a link to a tweet that just had the caption: “you should probably see this.”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Laurel pressed the link. What could be so important that Madeline would have sent a message with that kind of urgency? And why didn’t she just text it? God, I hate puckbunny blogs, Laurel thought as she read the handle. Her eyes raced across the screen. So I was looking up the address of my friend’s wedding earlier since I lost my invitation and didn’t want to tell her, and saw this under??? I know he can be a private guy, but tell me you guys don’t think this is for PLD. Her eyes froze as soon as she finished reading, praying that somehow they were talking about a different PLD, that they hadn’t been found out and their cover hadn’t been blown and she wasn’t about to have a panic attack for the first time since junior year  — and then she saw the screenshot. Of their wedding announcement. Their public wedding announcement that not only had their full names and places of birth, but the location of the ceremony, the time, and their addresses. God, this is exactly what Laurel had been worried about. She immediately reported the tweet for exposing personal information, then made the poor decision to look at the comments section. Some people insisted it was legitimate, some convinced it was just photoshop, some were convinced that it couldn’t be Pierre-Luc even it looked like him, because he was training in Columbus for the summer, right? Thank God, it didn’t seem like anyone had done a deep enough dive to figure out who she was; there weren’t any screenshots of her accounts or photos of her in the comments section. It was eight minutes from the time she reported it to when it was taken down, and while Laurel was grateful for the quick response, she felt like she was on a cliffside, one foot off of the edge, until it had been deleted. 

Her phone lit up with a text notification from Pierre. Funny thing happened today. 

Oh God, Laurel thought. Had he seen it? He hadn’t.

My mom asked what you were planning to do about flowers and got very upset when I said we didn’t have any plans. She let out a tense breath. Flowers, she could do. She wanted to get your number to send over the names of a few florists she knows in the area, but I thought I should check with you first to make sure that’s okay. 

Laurel smiled, her right hand draped over the side of the couch to scratch Piper behind the ears. That sounds great, P. 

As promised, his mom texted Laurel soon after, coming armed with recommendations of Montréal florists. She echoed her son’s words almost identically; You deserve to have the wedding you’ve always dreamed of even if the circumstances are different, she had written. Her eyes pricked with tears as she fell asleep. 

July 3 (sun)

It was a week before the wedding, and Laurel had started to pack up her apartment. It seemed much more practical to do it in stages then try to finish everything the weekend of the wedding. So she sat with Pierre on the floor of her bedroom, moving boxes between them as they packed away into the next season of her life. Some things, she obviously couldn’t put away yet — she still needed clothes and toothpaste, and they hadn’t been able to get all of her pots and pans down to the Goodwill yet. But books and keepsakes could be boxed up, and unless there was a snowstorm in July, she didn’t need her parka either. 

“Oh, what’s this?” Pierre asked as he pulled a few more volumes off of her bookshelf. Laurel groaned  when she saw what was in his hand. 

“The 2013 Cloquet Senior High School yearbook. My sophomore year.”

He burst out laughing. “This, I’ve got to see.” He opened the cover. “Your mascot was the Lumberjacks?”

Laurel ducked her head, her cheeks heating. “Regrettably, yes. That’s what happens when your whole area used to be milling towns.”

Pierre’s brows furrowed. “I thought you said everything was about the mines, doesn’t your dad work in the mines?”

“He does,” Laurel said. “They had to figure out something to do after all of the trees had been cut down, you know?”

Pierre got the feeling it was really more of a rhetorical question. “What was your school like?” 

She placed one of her old Harry Potter books into the box. “Small is the first word that comes to mind. My graduating class couldn’t have been much bigger than 150 or so? We’d get snow days a couple of times a year, most of the time if it wasn’t a blizzard everyone would end up going down to the school anyways, we’d all have big snowball fights on the football field. Actually,” she said, pulling out her phone from her back pocket, “I think I might still have a clip of one.” She pulled up her videos, scooting over to Pierre and leaning into his side so he could see the screen. Raucous laughter filtered through the speakers; the only things in sight were snow forts and the tiniest bits of beanies peeking over the top. 

“THIS. IS. WAR!” 

Laurel snickered. “I think that sounds like Nicholas, he was the varsity quarterback for a few years. Usually was the one leading the sieges.” She put her phone away a minute later after the clip ended. “But other than that? There were actually a lot of pretty interesting elective classes, I got to take photography, work in the preschool on campus, take a class on Anishinaabe studies.”

“Anishinaabe?” Pierre questioned. 

“There’s a Native American reservation in town, the tribe’s Ojibwe so that’s the language family we studied. A lot of kids at the school, including one of my best friends Kristen, live on the reservation, so I think they wanted to not only have the class available for Native students who maybe wanted to learn more about their culture, but also for non-Native kids like me, so we’re able to gain a respect for whose land we’re living on,” Laurel explained. 

“Makes sense,” he said, flipping through the pages. He snorted. “This photo might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Laurel peeked over his shoulder, cringing at her school picture. “I really couldn’t have dressed any more 2012 if I tried, Pierre. Aggressively off-the-shoulder top, one of those godforsaken hair feathers, I bet you’d find dark wash skinny jeans if you could see from the waist down.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my fiancée like that,” Pierre said. “I like the look, I swear. You were such a cute kid, oh my God.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know. What happened to me, right?”

He looked at her from the side. “Nope.”

 June 9 (fri)

 It was the day before the wedding, and Laurel was trying to find a dress. She had been planning on wearing one — even if it was a courthouse wedding, she still wanted to look nice — but then she had spilled red wine onto the light blue one she had been thinking of wearing as she ironed it in the living room, and she didn’t want to put all of her eggs in one basket if the Oxiclean didn’t end up working. She called Madeline in a panic, who promised to be over as soon as she could with a few dresses of her own to see what she could do. There was a knock on the door, and Laurel practically flew across the room to fling it open, gathering Madeline in a hug even before she had crossed the threshold. Madeline patted her clumsily on the back. “There, there, Laur. It’s going to be okay, we’re going to fix it.”

Laurel ran one hand through her hair, her curls as frazzled as her mind. “It’s got to be. Half of my stuff’s already over at P’s place, what, do you want me to wear a,” she opened up her dresser, eyeing its meager contents, “bralette and lacy thong to my own wedding?”

Madeline shrugged. “I doubt Pierre would mind,” she said casually. 

Laurel almost choked on her own spit. “What do you mean?”

“Men are visual creatures, and you’re hot as hell, Laurel,” she stated matter-of-factly. 

“Still,” Laurel said, opening her closet and grabbing every single left over dress from its hanger, trying to distract herself from Madeline’s words, “I’d rather not be arrested for public indecency. I’m trying to stay in the country, remember?”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “I remember.” She thumbed through the dresses on Laurel’s bed. “You’re not wearing a black dress to get married,” she said pointedly. 

“It’s pretty?” Laurel tried to reason.

“It is, but it’s a wedding, not a funeral.” She moved onto the next one. “Bright red bodycon is great for the club, but not sure coquettish seductress is the look you’re going for.” The next one was a striped sweater dress; it was the middle of summer, so according to Madeline, that meant it was out. There was a navy shift dress that “could work, but it’s a little too much work and not enough play,” her friend had said. Laurel tried on Madeline’s dresses, but seeing as how she had three inches on her, the hemlines weren’t exactly in her favor. Madeline pulled out the last of the stack, gasping softly. “This one’s beautiful, where’s it from?”

Madeline looked at it, a knee-length ivory lace dress, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Madeline. “It was for Aurélie’s bachelorette party last year, probably explains. You were drunk off your ass that night.”

“I’m hurt by that characterization, but I don’t remember enough to correct you,” Madeline said. “It’s perfect though, why didn’t you choose this one in the first place?”

Laurel rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m not sure?” Madeline gave her a look. “Fine, it just seems...It seems too much like an actual wedding dress. It’s white, or close enough, anyways,” she noted, fingering one of the delicate straps, “and gorgeous, and formal, and I’m worried if I wear it it’ll seem too real, and I’ll start thinking this is more than it is. Because all it is at the end of the day is a friend doing me a really, really big favor,” she finished, huffing and falling back onto her mattress. 

“At the end of the day, it’s still a wedding,” Madeline corrected, laying down next to her. “And you’re still a bride and he’s still a groom and you deserve to feel beautiful and cherished and special on your wedding day, no matter its circumstances. And who knows? Maybe you two stay married, and fall in love, and you live happily ever after with your half-dozen dogs and 2.5 kids on some farm out in the suburbs.”

Laurel snorted. “As if.” But two hours later, long after Madeline had already left, she sat back on the bed, hand ghosting over the lace of her now-wedding dress, thinking that maybe, just maybe, Madeline had a point.  

June 10 (sat) 

It was the morning of the wedding, and Laurel was pacing her room in her sweatpants, Piper looking at her in confusion from the doorway. It was just past 7 and the appointment wasn’t until 10, but she still had to get dressed and do her hair and makeup and pick up the flowers and eat and — her internal monologue was interrupted by the doorbell. Still half-asleep, she ambled over to the door, pulling it open without even really checking to see who it was. 

“Surprise!!” Patrice shouted, walking through the door, followed by Madeline and Pierre. “Madeline mentioned that you seemed a bit overwhelmed yesterday, so we thought we’d come over and get ready over here!” 

Laurel shuffled out of the way as Piper jumped on Pierre, who laughed and calmed her down with a few scratches on her chin. She had really taken a liking to him and his two dogs, which had initially been a point of nervousness for Laurel. But they got along great, shared space well, and she seemed to love her new brother and sister. “That’s really nice of you guys, I appreciate it,” she said sincerely. “Um, I don’t have much food left because of the move, but I think there’s some cereal in the cupboard?” 

“Silly you,” Pierre said, holding out a paper bag. “Did you think I’d leave my bride hungry on our wedding day? I got you sourdough french toast, should be on the top.” They had gone out to brunch once and she had ordered it, audibly moaning at how incredible it tasted. He remembered. 

“And raspberry mochas!” Madeline said, presenting her with a cup. 

Laurel took it, wrapping her spare arm around Madeline and kissing Pierre on the cheek. “This is incredible, guys. Really. I didn’t expect anything like this.”

“Exactly!” Madeline said, a perky expression on her face. “It’s a surprise!” She drifted into the kitchen, pulling out plates from Laurel’s cabinet and forks from her drawers. “Breakfast is served!”

Laurel let out a laugh as she grabbed the box with her french toast, taking a sip of her mocha. “I think the credit goes to the chefs at the restaurant, but whatever you say, Madi.”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but we ordered it. 

By the time they had all inhaled their breakfasts and cleaned the kitchen — Laurel and Pierre tag-teamed the dishes — it was almost eight, and Madeline whisked her into her room to get ready. “There should be a couple beers in the fridge, help yourselves!” Laurel shouted out the door as Madeline tried to wrestle her into the ensuite. For the most part, Madeline was good at listening to Laurel’s pleas against a dramatic makeup look. Muted rose lipstick, filled in her eyebrows, delicately pulled back her hair into a twisted bun. “Where’s your setting spray?” Madeline asked, rooting through her makeup bag. 

“Top drawer on the left. Are you finally going to let me see?”

Madeline pulled the drawer out, uncapping the bottle and spritzing it over Laurel’s face. “Go for it.”

Laurel turned around, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “Oh my God,” she said, turning her head so the glimmer of her highlighter caught in the early-morning sun streaming through the open window. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Don’t say that until you’ve put the dress on,” Madeline said, pulling it off of its hanger and draping it across the chair. Sweats came off and the dress went on, Madeline carefully pulling up the back zipper and straightening out her hem. Laurel bent down to put on her shoes, threading the silver straps through the tiny metal clasp before giving her leg a good shake. Madeline looked at her sceptically. 

“What?” Laurel asked innocently. “I don’t want it to fall off halfway down the aisle.” 

There was a knock on the bedroom door, Patrice’s voice floating in from the other side. “It’s 9:20, you two about ready to head out?”

“Coming!” Madeline called back, pulling Laurel up from the bed. “You ready, Laur?” Laurel gave a nervous nod. “Let’s go get you married.”

She stepped out into the living room, reaching up to her neck and fingering the silver filigree of her grandma’s wedding necklace, one of the only things she had left to remember her by. If she wasn’t able to complete the whole rhyme, at least she’d have her something old. “Who’s driving?” she asked. 

Pierre wheeled around, mouth gaping like a fish when he saw her. Laurel immediately looked down to her dress, wondering if she had spilled one of her pre-wedding mimosas. “What is it?” she asked frantically. “Is there something in my teeth?”

He shook his head, tugging at the sleeves of his navy blue suit. “No, there’s nothing in your teeth, it’s perfect. You look beautiful.” They were in the car five minutes later, picked up the bouquet from the florist five minutes after that, and were outside of the courthouse by 9:50. Laurel took a deep breath, looking up at the glass doors of the Palais de Justice. Pierre threaded his fingers between hers, giving a reassuring squeeze. “You good?”

Laurel nodded, nervous but determined, sure that she was making the right decision. “Ready.” She barely remembered signing in, barely remembered going back to the clerk’s office, barely remembered her reading the mandated articles of the civil code. She gripped Pierre’s hands, giving him as much of a reassuring smile as she could, as the vows were read. 

“Pierre-Luc Dubois, do you take Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, here present, to be your wife?” Juliette asked. 

“I do.”

“Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, do you take Pierre-Luc Dubois, here present, to be your husband?”

“I do,” Laurel said, voice steady. 

Juliette continued. “By virtue of the powers vested in me by law, I now declare you, Pierre-Luc Dubois, and you, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, united in the bonds of marriage.” Patrice passed over the rings; Laurel slid Pierre’s onto his ring finger, he gently twisted hers to rest on top of her engagement ring. “You are now legally married. Allow me, on my own behalf and on behalf of all those present, to offer you our best wishes for your happiness. You may now kiss the bride.”

Laurel panicked for a moment, before looking up and meeting Pierre’s eyes. In the span of a second, she communicated her unspoken agreement with the tiniest nod of her head, and his lips were on hers. His arms were against the small of her back, hers wrapped around his neck, and even enough it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, it felt like hours. It felt like coming home.

[emutempo]

Strike A Pose (domestic SuperCorp one-shot)

Summary: Everyone has the day off but Supergirl. And even though it means leaving Lena home alone for much of the day, Kara's determined to make the best of it.

Posted to my Ao3 here. 

Notes: It's 4:40AM and I just couldn't sleep without getting this out of my head. And since I'm still anxious about posting any of my fics, I figured once again it'd be better to hit that post button before I get too nervous and hit delete instead. Anyway, I hope this brightens at least one person’s day.

----------

Rays from the sun pour in from the windows of Lena’s bedroom and her eyes flutter open as she feels the heat on her face. She forces her eyes open and stretches into a yawn.

She looked across the bed and first saw a mess of golden hair splayed across a pillow. Kara was still fast asleep after a long week working at the DEO. It had been a long week for both them and Lena was looking for to a relaxing Friday with no work.

 She was happy the 4th of July landed on a Friday this year. It usually meant she had a three day weekend with Kara all to herself. No L Corp, no CatCo. Except, today, Kara was on call. Even though the DEO was operating with the minimal crew, Kara had volunteered to cover for J’onn, Winn, James and Alex. They had been so accommodating of Kara’s requests for days off to spend with Lena that Lena didn’t mind.

Today would be like any other busy weekend day for them. They’d lounge around the house, playing board games, watching their favorite movies and cuddling on the couch. And when Kara was called away for her Supergirl duties, she’d give Lena a quick goodbye and take off to deal with the problem before eventually coming back to Lena and resuming their activities like nothing had interrupted at all.

For now, it was still early and the city itself was still waking up so Lena turned over and cuddled against Kara. Her head, barely hit the pillow before she fell back into slumber.

—

Later, Kara and Lena were sat up, cuddling on the living room couch, each with a cup of coffee in hand. On the TV, an episode of QI playing. Kara took a sip of her coffee before

Kara and Lena had taken to watching QI on their lazy mornings. Kara was fascinated with the random knowledge and discussion on the show and more-so with Lena’s endless intelligence. This morning, they were talking about the history of astronomy.

Kara cleared her throat, “so when did people start thinking the Earth was flat again? It’s like they’re afraid the Earth is round. They’re lucky it is or they’d be off floating somewhere in space!”

Lena loved these little conversations with Kara. No matter how long she’d spent on Earth, still so much surprised her. Lena shrugged. “You know, the only thing flatearthers fear is sphere itself.”

It took Kara a moment to realize Lena’s joke before a giggle escaped her throat, still a tinge of morning gruffness in her voice.  Lena stared into her eyes, trying to memorize the beautiful sound of Kara’s laughter. But it was short-lived as Kara suddenly tilted her head, listening.

Lena smiles, knowing in that moment that duty was calling to Supergirl. National City needed its savior. Kara looked up apologetically to Lena. “Small kitchen fire. No extinguisher. Should be quick.”

And a moment later, a whoosh fills the Lena’s living room as Kara disappears for a moment before another whoosh brings Kara back, clad in her blue suit and red cape. Lena blows her a kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you, Supergirl.”

Kara mimes catching her kiss in the air and puts it to her lips before stepping out onto the balcony. Even though Lena’s a little disappointed, she can’t help but smile as she watches her go.

Kara has the goofiest grin on her face she holds Lena’s eye contact. Lena smiles, shaking her head. She knows what’s coming and she waits for it…

Lena watches as Supergirl turns around and takes a big step away from the balcony door. She turns around in place and mimes pressing an elevator button before taking a patient stance with her arms crossed in front of her, as if waiting. A moment later, still ‘standing’ with her arms crossed, Kara slowly floats up into the air as if riding an invisible elevator until she’s out of Lena’s view. But not before giving the Luthor a playful wink.

Lena can’t hold back the laugh caught in her throat. It’s loud and she knows Kara hears it.

—

Later, they’re sitting on opposite sides of the coffee table, a chess board between them. It’s Kara’s turn but she’s gone on a rant and Lena doesn’t have the heart to interrupt her.

“I just don’t understand. Why are ALL of them so sad? Isn’t there a single period drama about two women falling in love where they get to be together? The endings are always so tragic. Unrequited love… pre-arranged marriage… and that’s only if we’re lucky enough one of them doesn’t die! Doesn’t anyone run away together? Or say ‘screw you’ to all the cranky old men?”

Lena can’t stop herself. She leans over the chess board and kisses Kara. It’s soft and sweet. When she pulls back, she gestures to the chess board and Kara finally realizes it’s her move. She hastily moves one of her pieces and by the look on Lena’s face, it’s not… the best move. But Lena ignores it.

“I think they’re just trying to be historically accurate, love. Times were a lot harder for us not too long ago.”

Kara doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer. “Well, I still don’t like it. No more sad movies like that one we watched last night. Here Comes the World… or was it… A World to Come?”

“The World to Come,” Lena reaches forward to brush a hair out of Kara’s face. “We could watch Gentleman Jack.”

Kara pouts. “That doesn’t sound promising.” Lena chuckles, about to launch into an explanation of the history behind the titular character of Anne Lister when she sees that signature head tilt again and Kara’s eyes focus into the distance. Lena’s puts her hand up over the chess board about to say, “Kara, mind the chess board—“ but it’s too late. Two back to back WHOOSHES and Supergirl is again standing before Lena, who’s eyebrow’s cocked in ITS signature position. Kara notices the chess pieces all over the floor and looks at Lena apologetically, “you were winning anyway?”

Kara leans in and gives Lena a quick peck on the cheek. “Drunken brawl. I’ll get everyone settled down and be right back.” She keeps her eyes on Lena’s as she backs her way toward the balcony door. The look in their eyes and the suppressed smiles on their faces tell us that, again, they both know what’s coming. Lena watches as Kara steps outside, her cape flapping in the breeze, and takes her superhero stance. She double taps the emblem on her chest and then puts her hands out behind her and takes off in flight… Is she serious?

Lena guffaws and yells after Kara. “Iron Man? Are you kidding me?” But Lena giggles. Kara knows she’s gonna give her a hard time for that one later. As if to dig in even more, Kara loop-de-loops and flies by the window on her way to the drunken brawl.

Yeah she definitely heard that.

—

Back at home with Lena and Kara relaxing in front of the TV. Kara channel surfs while Lena plays with her hair. She lands on a movie that’s just started.

“Oh, I love Megamind! Have you ever seen it?”

Lena shakes her head, “I think most of the animated films I’ve watched in my entire lifetime on Earth I’ve seen first with you. And we haven’t watched this one yet.”

Kara scoots up closer to Lena. “Can we? Can we watch it together? It’s one of my favorites.”

Lena puts her arm around Kara and pulls her in. “How many times have I ever said no to your movie picks?” Kara turned around, wearing a hurt look on her face even though Lena knows it’s put-on. “You keep saying no to Hocus Pocus!”

“That’s because it’s a Halloween movie and we should watch it on Halloween.”

Before Kara can protest… another head tilt and yep, a WHOOSH away and back.

“Car wreck on the bridge. Firefighters’ jaws of life aren’t working. Back in a jiffy. We’re not finished discussing this.”

Kara went straight for the balcony and Lena thought she wasn’t going to get a special send off. But, of course, Kara had something else in mind. She turns around and grabs her cape, pulling it up over her head in a somewhat childish maneuver.

What the hell is she doing this time? Then Lena gets her answer when the cape puffs up revealing Kara blowing air into it to resemble a parachute before she floats up, up, and away.

“Ok, that was a good one.”

She can picture the shit-eating grin on Kara’s face and shakes her head, turning back to the TV and hitting play.

—

Kara and Lena in the kitchen, making an early dinner. Kara’s arguing a point and waving a spatula around like a judge waves a gavel.

“You agree that Bette Midler’s amazing and this is one of her favorite roles she’s ever played. She said so herself. I know because she follows me on Twitter.”

Lena flicks a gravy-covered whisk at Kara, flinging the brown sauce onto her shirt and face. Kara mouth drops open and she freezes in place, shocked at Lena’s gravy betrayal.

“That’s what you get for showing off.”

Kara, hands and face still frozen, pivots to face Lena, “oooh, you’re going to be sorry for that.” With a burst of speed, Kara reaches out and tickle Lena’s sides. Lena squeals as she tries to escape but she knows it’s futile. There’s no way she’s escaping Kara’s grip so she does the next best thing and flicks more gravy at her. And now it’s Kara’s turn to squeal. “You are gonna HATE gravy by the time I’m through with you!” Kara dives for Lena but before she can catch her up in her arms again… you know what it is. The head tilt. Kara listens for a moment as she wipes gravy from her face and licks it from her finger. Lena takes a swipe for herself too.

Kara quickly glances at Lena before a smirk takes over her face. But Lena can’t stop her before…

“Kara don’t—“

… Kara WHOOSHES away, spinning the gravy off her body and flinging it EVERYWHERE, including Lena.

“—Do the whoosh thing.”

Lena stands there for a beat. Now SHE’s the one frozen with gravy-face. Kara whooshes back into the kitchen and licks a spot of gravy off Lena’s face.

“Break in at the pawn shop. Don’t try to sneak any kale into the fagioli ‘cause I’ll know.”

Kara makes her way to the balcony but Lena doesn’t turn around. She waits a beat for the tell-tale whoosh but doesn’t hear one. She knows Kara’s waiting for her to turn around and although part of Lena doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of turning around, she does. Supergirl has places to be and she doesn’t want to keep Kara waiting.

Kara smiles as Lena turns around before jumping onto an invisible broomstick and doing her best interpretation of a witch cackle as she ‘flies’ off.

Lena rolls her eyes as she wipes the gravy off her face with a towel. “Ok, ok! We can watch Hocus Pocus when you get back.”

Lena goes to the fridge and grabs the bunch of kale she’s hidden in one of the fridge drawers.

—

The evening. Lena and Kara lay on the couch, the remnants of their dinner on the coffee table in front of them. Kara swipes a remnant of gravy from one of the plates and quickly dabs it on Lena’s nose. Lena’s nose scrunches at the cold liquid as Kara fights to keep a straight face. So does Lena.

“I’m starting to understand why these witches want to eat these children.”

Kara playfully smacks Lena’s arm. She knows Lena isn’t mad in the slightest. Kara giggles as Lena tries to lick the gravy from her nose with her tongue. But her tongue can’t reach. Kara leans forward and licks it off for her.

“I could eat you.”

Lena blushes and leans in for a kiss. It’s tender and sweet. Lena pulls away to look Kara in the eyes. “Well, you have put a spell on me so I’d probably let you.”

Kara’s eyebrows perk up and she bites her lip, “is that a request, Ms. Luthor?”

But of course… Lena doesn’t get the chance to answer before Kara’s head tilts once again. A beat before… WHOOSH.

“Run of the mill creep following a woman home. Give me five minutes to set this guy straight.”

Kara plops a kiss on Lena’s nose where the gravy was before she turns and runs straight out for the balcony. She doesn’t wait for Lena to turn around but Lena watches anyway as Kara takes a running leap toward the balcony bannister and lands on top of it. She takes a few more jumps like she’s on a diving board before leaping and tucking into a somersault as she “dives” off the bannister and disappears below the balcony.

“Go get him, love.”

Lena hits pause on the movie and sits back, staring off through the balcony windows at the city, her eyes filled with a dreamy haze. She’ll wait for Kara to come back and watch with her.

—

Later that night, Kara and Lena are finally lying in bed cuddling and listening to the last of the fireworks going off.

Kara flips through Twitter on her phone while Lena reads a book in one hand and uses the other to stroke Kara’s hair. She hears a small yawn escape from the blonde’s mouth and looks at the clock.

“It’s getting late. Are you ready to go to sleep, love? Should I turn off the light?”

Kara drops her phone dramatically and tucks her head into Lena. Her arm lands with a thud across Lena’s stomach, collapsing as if exhausted.

“I’m not tired if you’re not.”

Lena strokes her head a few more times before she dogs ears the book she’s reading and places it on her night stand. She leans over to turn off the light when she feels Kara sit up. She turns and sees Kara’s head tilted, listening. Lena picks her book back up, ready to continue reading while she waited for Kara to come back from another rescue.

“What is it this time? Wild assassin penguin on the loose? Three crazy witch sisters kidnapping innocent children?”

Kara stiffens up and tilts her head the other way. “No, it’s a woman…”

Lena sets her book to the side, noticing the serious tone in Kara’s voice. “Kara, what’s wrong?”

Kara looks at Lena, seemingly concentrating on a sound in the distance, a look of concern across her face. “She’s dying… of patience.”

Lena’s eyebrows scrunch together and she squints at Kara, confused. “What?”

Kara turns to face Lena, still as serious as ever.

“She has this girlfriend who keeps rushing off all over the city, leaving her alone at home and she’s just… been so patient.”

Lena’s face relaxes and falls into a lazy grin as she catches on to Kara. Kara can tell Lena’s savvy to her playfulness but she doesn’t drop the series tone.

“See, she’s a very important and very busy lady who doesn’t get a lot of time off to spend with her girlfriend and when she does, her girlfriend always has to fly off. So, if it’s ok with you, I’ve gotta go fix that.”

Lena pulled Kara in close. She didn’t try to feign shock or surprise or play along. She was too consumed with earnest love and she didn’t want to waste any more of their time today, “so how long will it be this time?”

Kara leans in close, kissing Lena with soft lips and tenderness, “forever.”