#before that we all sat and watched like 2 and a half hours worth of abandoned building exploration videos and then some of that endless

[keeps-ache]

introduced my brother apollo to vaporwave last night (the general first results stuff and then the pools because the pools are so important to me) and he's been zoned in on recreating one of the pool rooms in roblox for about. i think 10ish hours including last night lol :)

[slowdivinqs]

Golden

Summary: A Sunday afternoon on your farm with Joel.

WC: 4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Soft, dorky Joel. We pretend Abby and Joel chatted it out. Joel and JJ moments. Breeding ( ? ) kink. Oral sex f! receiving. PinV. In da farm house we’re in love baby! Joel doing physical labor…yeah. Can imagine Pedro or game Joel. Reader can paint!

A/N: I just wanted to give a HUGE thank you for all the love, kind words and support on Magnetism! You all melt my heart. Thank you! I’m not so happy with the smut in this but whatever :,)

The Sade record crackles before your favorite song on the album begins drifting through the air. The birthday gift Joel gave you last year that made hot tears fall out of your eyes, just like him when you gave him a painting of Sarah and Ellie for his birthday that hangs in his woodworking space. Your birthday last year ended with 8 hours spent in the sheets, passed out by the end of it, Joel with a sore back for a week - yet claims it was worth it.

You look up at him right now, peering outside the large kitchen windows and spotting him pulling out carrots, in a tight shirt and his work jeans, arms flexing at the particularly stubborn ones. Banjo following along and sniffing inside Joel’s wicker basket filled with vegetables, his tail smacking into Joel’s side. Rosie and Posie bleating in the distance, their fuzzy woolen coats glowing in the sun, seeming to also take an interest in watching Joel work, just like you.

You hear Banjo’s excited barks before Joel closes the dog's mouth shut with his hand playfully, shaking Banjo’s head side to side lightly, riling him up. The sun starts to set behind them, past the fence surrounding your ranch, behind the tall Wyoming mountains. Orange, pink, and yellow, exploding in waves. The bees returning to their hives from the flower box in front of the kitchen windows．

You laugh when Banjo manages to knock Joel over lightly, the two tumbling onto the grass. Joel laughs too, holding the border collie back with his forearm as he tries to lick Joel’s face with all his might.

You smile to yourself as you get back to work, just as Sade starts singing about ‘his hands’ and ‘the way the mountains look’. Lost in the haze of measuring out ingredients, 2 and 3 quarter cups flour, a quarter cup of sugar. Feeling the weight of the ingredients slide into the bowl. Just as you see Joel slowly walk towards the chicken coup, Banjo waiting in the grass - knowing he’s not allowed there.

Milk and salt are next, and you drift over to the fridge to grab the milk, your long white skirt, embraced with abstract flowery patterns flows against your bare ankles as your toes feel the comforting wooden floors of your warm farm home that Joel made sure to install after you mindlessly talked about your love for warm wooden accents. Sat a 20-minute walk outside the walls of Jackson, a small distance away from Ellie’s farm, closer to the lush woods atop the hills.

As you settle back by the kitchen counter, lit up by warm - almost honey-colored rays of sunlight, you try to spot Joel amongst the chickens, but he seems to have vanished, Banjo too.

You glance around surprised for a moment, your eyes flitting from the coup to the vegetable patches, to the flower beds he planted for you, the fairy garden that he denies he took part in yet carved all of the little toadstool homes for you, and Ellie to paint, and even to Old Beardy grazing in the distance, yet Joel is nowhere to be found.

You even turn to the back door, yet there’s no sign of your man. How can a big teddy bear like him disappear in less than a minute?

You jump and let out an embarrassing squeak as a sudden flash of salt and pepper pops up right on the other side of the window pane. You clutch a hand over your chest as Joel’s face comes into view, his cheeky smile and scruffy beard. Utterly pleased with himself at his success in startling you.

You glare at him half-heartedly, trying to hide the smile that’s inching up your face.

He reaches into one of the large pockets in his jeans, and your attempt at hiding your smile fails when he pulls out a little yellow chick. He lifts it to your view, the little fluff ball wiggling and chirping, looking tiny in Joel’s large, dirty palms. His smile grows wider and tender as he sees you beam at the sight through the window.

He scratches the chick’s head with one of his fingers before walking back to reunite the yellow baby with its mama.

You laugh to yourself at his antics. At a grown, grizzly man, surprising you with a baby chicken. He’s a dork and doesn’t deny the allegations when they’re thrown his way.

Banjo runs circles around the vegetable garden just as the back door opens, closing softly with a click. Joel’s heavy footfall, accentuated by his boots, sounds behind you, getting softer as he heads to the guest bathroom. The house creaks and groans as the water turns on. You’re back to baking.

“Smells real good.”

He hums, his, now soft, footfall appearing once again as he approaches from behind you, burying his face in your neck and sniffling dramatically, you feel his wet beard and hair drip onto your neck, giving you goosies. He’s splashed his face and washed his hands, probably so he can distract you without your scolding.

“Me or the food, old man?” You ask with a smile, continuing to knead the dough.

“‘Mm, both.” He hums, rubbing his facial hair against your neck like a cat. You suspect he might start purring soon. It’s not unlike him, even though he ignores you when you tell him that he basically purrs while snuggling against your chest as you read whatever novel you two have picked aloud to him in the evenings.

“Cinnamon rolls, bread’s in the often.” You hum, tilting your head to the side so he can keep giving you his beard scratches. He starts nibbling too now. You sway your hips slightly to the music, and the way his hands fall to your hips tells you all you need to know.

“Cinnamon rolls.” He repeats amused, smiling against your skin, nibbling again to make you tut at him, grinning when you do.

“Ellie and Dina are comin’ over later.” You say as you grab the jar of cinnamon on the shelf, leaving Joel to step back and watch.

“They bringin’ JJ?” Joel asks, voice loosing his husky tiredness and instead replaced with a lighter sound.

“Yes baby, they’re bringing JJ.” You say with a soft smile, looking back at him only to find he’s disappeared once more. That man is silent as a mouse usually - a habit you suppose. Although, whenever he walks into the house, he does three stomps of his boots - just to make sure you know it’s him. He may have gone soft, but there are some things time will never strip away entirely. His knack for safety is one of them.

Just as you’re finished adding all the wet ingredients to your dry ones, you hear Joel in the living room lowering a box, a few things spilling out. An obnoxious squeak of a toy - you think it’s banjo’s plastic chicken that Joel hid away after the noise drove Joel so insane he accidentally beheaded a cowboy carving he was working on for a month. You catch Banjo’s head shoot up as if he got a sense that his long-lost soulmate is near. Joel hides the chicken away again quickly.

He’s brought out the small bundle of toys you two own - JJ’s toy box - Joel calls it, even made one of those shape sorters and toy soldiers for the little boy to play with, and asked you to paint them when he was done, as he does most of his carvings.

This is the one thing Joel doesn’t try to hide his excitement about. Whenever he sees JJ, or ‘potato’ as Ellie calls him, they might as well be the only people in the world. You think it’s the sweetest thing, makes you want to beg him to have a potato of your own, your body going into overdrive imagining how he’d look at your child while putting them to sleep, how he’d kiss their forehead softly.

Joel begins to organize the toys, placing the few dinosaurs, soldiers, and stuffed animals in a battle scene. The soldiers are apparently no match for the fluffy bear, as he’s flung them around in defeat.

Never did you think you’d see the day that Joel Miller would organize a battle scene between stuffed animals and wooden soldiers, just to see JJ’s face light up in excitement - like the little boy's face doesn’t already do that when he just sees Joel as the front door opens.

You manage to pull your eyes away and start folding your dough. Smiling to yourself at your sweet sweet man. Your stomach swoops the more you think, kneading the dough mindlessly as you’re painfully reminded how badly you want it. How badly you want him to pump you full, make you swell. You don’t even notice how your eyes have gone hazy, kneading the dough harder and harder until you jump at Joel’s big hands cupping your wrists from behind, pulling them upwards slightly to relax them. His beard tickles the fly always at the back of your neck as he kisses the soft skin there.

“What’s got my lady all worked up, hm?” He murmurs against your neck, kissing down the side and inhaling, almost like he wants to brand himself with you.

“You.” You whisper shakily, squeezing the dough slightly like an anchor. You feel his cheeky, boyish smile against your skin, only for a moment before he replaces that smirk with a nibble.

“Me?” He asked softly, planting his chin over your shoulder to watch as you ‘work’, definitely not to watch the way his calloused hands cup over your tits. The dough between your palms is the only thing keeping you stable right now.

“Yes, you.” It’s a breathy whisper, and although he doesn’t see it - Joel already knows your eyes are drooping when you tip your head back slightly, able to breathe in that perfect scent of him after he’s spent the day working in the sun. The musk that is uniquely Joel, that screams man man man.

“Don’t know what you mean, honey bee.” He hums, his mouth ghosting over your earlobe just as his thumbs circle over where your nipples are unfortunately hidden away from him. He knows exactly what you mean.

“Why don’t you head South and find out then, cowboy?” You tease, expecting a playful slap and pinch of your ass before he wanders off to the shower, but instead, you find his hands, then his whole self sliding down down down until his knees plant themselves on the floor.

“Gonna let me spoil my desert?” He hums, his hands sliding slowly up from your ankles, bringing your skirt with them, until he can see the little cotton-lace panties that are hidden underneath. He bites the soft swell of your right asscheek that the cotton doesn’t cover.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip softly as you arch your back slightly, leaning your weight on the dough, squeezing harder as the soft caress of your thighs leaves you dripping - more so than before.

“You know I’d let you do anything.” You whisper to him, and it’s all he needs before you feel his calloused fingers on your lower back, sinking into your underwear before dragging them down, burying his head under your skirt.

He throws your panties somewhere, with a proper flick of his wrist. You can see them land somewhere in your periphery, the white lace discarded, very Joel-like in the most crude matter possible.

“Joel!-“ you begin to exclaim before his warm tongue parts your slick folds with an obscene sound. Slurping up the wetness he’s found as his calloused hands grip the front of your thighs. Squeezing tightly like it’ll let him get his tongue deeper into your pussy.

You almost want to laugh at what it must look like: his head buried under your long white skirt, like a ghost he probably dressed up as for Halloween. But fortunately for him, you can’t laugh when his mouth has sealed around the hood of your clit, when it’s hot hot hot and wet.

“Oh, Joel-” you moan in a breathless gasp, your head falling back and then forward as his tongue licks the underside of your clit, making you squeeze the poor dough for it’s life.

He groans into your pussy, tongue leaving your clit to lick side to side, sliding down your cunt until it’s breaching your drenched hole. His hands grip your ass-cheeks tightly, eating at you like it’s his last meal.

He pushes two of those thick fingers inside you, instantly curling forward so deliciously you think you might die. You lose your voice, moaning hoarsely as you clench around the intrusion. He starts moving his hand faster, paired with the suckling of his hot mouth on your clit, you’re not going to last much longer.

“Give it t’me baby- let me have it.” He whispers against you, and it’s his words that do it, as well as that final crook of his fingers that hit you right where you need him. You’re cumming with an intensity only he can give you. He slurps up all the wetness he can until you’re whining at him that it's ‘too much, too much’ and he stands. Gripping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before kissing you deeply. Guiding his tongue into your mouth just as he had done your pussy.

“I love you.” He whispers against your lips, and your chest blooms, blinking up at him as he looks into your eyes with a calm tenderness like you’re exactly what he always dreamed of - like he lay awake at night as a little boy getting giddy at the thought that one day you might be real, and now you are, more importantly: you’re his, and he’s yours.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, kissing him once more before he’s once again lifting your hands from the dough, which now looks positively mixed from your absent-minded squeezing.

“‘M gonna go shower, baby.” He says softly, stepping back from you just as you turn to look at him.

“You’re gonna deny a woman her fun?” You ask with a raise of your eyebrow, looking down as he re-adjusts his jeans. His hands glancing at your ass before smirking at something you don’t see yet.

“You’ll get your fun later, baby.” He says with an amused smile, before he’s turning and heading upstairs. You sigh and look around the kitchen, laughing brightly as you see your panties dangling on the hook by the back door, how he flung them so far, you’ll never know.

There’s a knock at the door at 5pm sharp, and Joel bounds down the stairs before walking to the door, the creak of it sweet before the sounds of ‘hello!’ and ‘how’s it going, old man?’ ring through the house. You move away from the kitchen to great Dina and Ellie as they walk in, JJ already cooing excitedly in Joel’s arms as he hugs Dina, then Ellie from the side. Smiling widely at the little boy.

“Hey Els, Dina.” You say softly as Ellie gives you a tight squeeze, her mullet brushed neatly, most likely done by Dina. The Ellie you know would let her hair stick in every direction like the wild child she is and always will be.

“Smells good.” Ellie says softly, a hand on the small of Dina’s back before she’s walking to the kitchen to inspect what you’ve made. You see Ollie - JJ’s favorite toy elephant that Ellie won in the Jackson Fair at 19 - hanging out of her back pocket. You smile at the similarities between Joel and Ellie, clear that he raised her in subtle ways. The most obvious being her recent taking for boots, jeans and flannels. She goes over to Joel and JJ after that, crouching behind Joel who’s sat on the carpet by his battle scene, giving him a bear hug from behind.

The afternoon is spent chatting away with Dina, Ellie occasionally chiming in, yet all three of you mainly watch Joel and JJ playing on the living room rug. Your home is filled with the delighted laughter of a child. Ellie joins in soon too, taking on the role of the toy dinosaurs which makes JJ shriek with laughter as they attack Joel’s stuffed bear, then Joel himself.

Everything is warm.

You all eat together. Roasted Venison with salad and bread, cinnamon rolls later that JJ tries to devour whole while sitting on Joel’s lap - similarly to Ellie who sneaks an extra two with Joel in the kitchen when they think their respective partners aren’t looking.

They stay in the small cottage outside which Joel made sure was perfect before their arrival. JJ and Dina fast asleep as you, Ellie and Joel find place on the couch watching some cheesy action movie that Ellie picked. Just like old times when she was a young teenager. She still leans against Joel’s shoulder all the same. Both of his girls in his arms as lights flash across the screen. You glance up at his face once, and smile when seeing he looks as happy as can be.

He deserves this, he deserves to be happy. Even if he might not believe it, you do, and you’ll let hell freeze over before you stop trying to make him happy.

Ellie bids you goodnight before going to curl up in bed with Dina and JJ. Similarly to the way Joel follows up the stairs behind you as you make your way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Smirking at the twinkle in his eye you see as you pull out his favorite night dress of yours

You’ve just finished up in the bathroom when you walk back into your shared bedroom. Joel shucking off his shirt, leaving him in his boxers. You admire his broad back in the low light of the bedroom. The shadows dusting along his muscles like rivers.

You float up behind him this time, your nose pressed to the line down his back, hands wrapped around his stomach.

“I want one.” You whisper into the quiet night, and it feels like you’re the only two people in the world. He turns to face you - you rest your chin on his chest and look up at him.

“Want what, darlin’?” He whispers softly, his thumb running over the apple of your cheek as he breaths softly. You can hear his heart beating, in sync with yours.

“A baby.” You whisper, and it’s so silent, so quiet. His eyes glimmer and brighten, his breath bated as he looks down at you.

“You want that with me, sweet girl?” He whispers, his voice suddenly hoarse and thick.

“More than anything.”

He kisses you deeply, his hand burying at the hair on the back of your head. Cupping the bowl of your skull so tenderly you can feel his love for you pulse through your veins. Your arms wrap rest on his broad shoulders.

“Me too, baby. Me too.” He whispers, and emotion wraps around your throat, as you can tell it does his when you see the shine in his sweet eyes.

You fall to the bed together, his boxers discarded as he makes quick work of your night gown. Kissing along your breasts until you’re driven so positively crazy you need him to soothe it with his mouth.

Your hand wraps around his shaft and you gaze into his eyes as they flutter slightly at the sensation of your fingers, his own meet you there, guiding him inside you until you both gasp softly at the sensation. He lets his hips push in all the way moments after. Your walls grip around him, the thick, hot - length of him, pushing its way through you until he fits into the space he’s made for himself within you. The noise of your wetness clenching around his girth as he holds himself over you on his strong forearms is nothing short of one of Joel’s favorite erotic sound.

“I love you, I love you so damn much.” He whispers, his large - paw like hand cupping your skull as he grinds his pelvis against your pulsing clit, listening to the soft shk shk shk as his cock twitches inside you, pushing up against that spot inside you that turns you stupid.

“I love you too.” You whimper, barely able to think past the way your eyes are rolling. He hasn’t even thrusted yet. You don’t catch the way he’s gazing down at you, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, like you own every part of his heart and soul, like you might as well be living and breathing within his ribcage : as if you’re the sole thing causing that glow he seems to have.

He starts moving, slow, deep slaps of his hips against yours. Holding you against him as you arch your back slightly, making sure he digs against that spot that drives you wild.

Your fingers dig red lines down his broad back. His head falling forward as he groans so deep and roughly you think you might die from being overly aroused. This man does things to you that you can’t even explain with words, your cries of pleasure seem to communicate it well enough though. Everything is hot and wet and sticky as he whispers into your ear.

“You’re gon’ be such a good mama- fuck darlin’ - take it, yeah-“ he groans into your ear, and your whole body shivers. You clench tighter around him, making him gasp slightly as his hand finds your clit. “Got me achin’ f’you all day baby-“ he whines - whines - into your ear, the soft skin of his balls drags against the curve of your ass, just like his tip dragging through your walls, taking you higher and higher until you can’t even hear the noises you’re making.

He rubs your clit harder, round and round on that pulsing nub until you open your eyes and see his disheveled face. Skin flushed, hair a mess, and his gaze fluttering as he moves his hips against you- his big strong body shining with sweat.

You’re done for.

You dig your heel into the soft flesh of his ass, pulling him closer and locking your legs around him, trapping him deep inside of you.

“Please cum inside me-“ you whimper, gazing into his eyes as he fights with all his might to make sure you cum first, his hand doesn’t let up on your clit, and you clench. “Please let me have it-“

His groan breaks into a soft whine as he drops onto his forearms, face right in front of yours, his nose bumping into your own. You can feel his harsh breaths against your swollen lips.

When you feel him start to fill you up on a slamming thrust, you cum with him, clenching tighter every time you feel one of his thick, sticky ropes shoot inside you while his cock twitches wildly inside you - his moans even sweeter than the sensation.

“Oh god, I love you-“ he whimpers, his moan cracking as you push him impossibly closer with your heel, his hands gripping the sheets next to your head for dear life. He kisses you messily, tiredly as you both lie there - sweaty and catching your breaths.

“I love you.” You whisper back to him, your hand running through his messy hair as you litter kisses along his damp forehead. He nuzzles into you like a big bear still inside you as he softens.

“You need somethin’?” He asks once he’s found his thoughts again, sitting up slightly before you pull him back down with an ‘oof ’.

“Just you.” You whisper back sleepily, your eyes closing shut as you bask in the feeling and love he gives you. You feel a soft kiss to your jaw. His hand splaying over your tummy.

“You got me, baby. Always.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading ! ♡ please lmk if you enjoyed it and reblog if you did ◡̈

[knoepfl]

Can you do Legoshi from Beastars with an extremely pessimistic, cynical, introverted, and antisocial fem! black cat reader of very few words who he meets when she's scouted as the new head writer since the President of the Drama was extremely impressed by her near-perfect grades?

Shadows and Stars

Characters:

1. Legoshi: A shy, introspective gray wolf in the drama club, empathetic but socially awkward.

2. Black Cat (Head Writer): A reserved, sharp-tongued new member with a guarded yet intense demeanor.

3. Louis: The confident, demanding red deer president of the drama club.

---

Trigger Warnings:

1. Social Anxiety: Depictions of awkward and tense interactions. 2. Loneliness: Themes of isolation and guarded behavior. 3. Stress: Characters under creative and interpersonal pressure. 4. Emotional Tension: Subtle, intense dynamics between characters.

Masterlist

Words: 1535

--- The morning light trickled through the half-open windows of the drama clubroom. Legoshi shifted uncomfortably as he adjusted a prop tree, his mind preoccupied with a myriad of thoughts. The sudden announcement from Louis the previous week had taken everyone by surprise—a new head writer had been chosen.

She had arrived earlier that day, slipping into the room with all the presence of a shadow. Legoshi watched her from the corner of his eye as she sat, barely speaking, her sharp gaze fixed on the scattered scripts before her. A black cat with an air of indifference, she radiated a quiet intensity that made even the most confident club members uneasy.

“Her grades are unmatched,” Louis had explained with his usual brisk tone. “She’s exactly what we need to elevate this production.”

Legoshi’s tail flicked nervously as he approached her.

“Uh... hi. I’m Legoshi,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

The cat glanced up briefly, her green eyes narrowing slightly before she returned to her work. “Okay.”

It wasn’t rude, but it wasn’t warm either. It was��� curt, like she had decided he wasn’t worth more than a single syllable. He shifted awkwardly.

“So… um, you’re the new writer?” he tried again, his ears twitching as the silence stretched uncomfortably.

“Yes.”

Another sharp, clipped answer. Legoshi’s tail drooped. He wasn’t good at conversations on the best of days, but this was like trying to talk to a brick wall. Still, there was something about her that intrigued him—something about the way she seemed to carry a world of thoughts behind those short answers.

“Is there… anything you need help with?” he asked, trying to be helpful.

The cat finally put down her pen and looked at him fully. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice was calm and measured. “No. I’m used to doing things myself.”

Legoshi nodded, unsure if that was a dismissal. “Okay… I’ll just, uh, be over here then.”

She didn’t reply, her attention already back on the papers in front of her. He slunk back to his corner, silently berating himself for his awkwardness. But as the hours passed, he couldn’t help but watch her work.

Her movements were precise, her focus unyielding. She scribbled notes in the margins of the script, her handwriting neat and deliberate. Occasionally, she would pause to glance around the room, her sharp eyes missing nothing.

It was Louis who finally broke the ice—if only unintentionally.

“Legoshi, stop lurking and make yourself useful!” the deer snapped, gesturing toward the new head writer. “She needs the last script drafts from the archives. Take her.”

Legoshi’s ears flattened, but he obeyed. He shuffled over to her, mumbling, “Uh, we need to get the drafts. I can show you where they are.”

She stood without a word, gathering her things before following him.

The walk to the archives was silent. Legoshi felt like he should say something, but every time he glanced at her, she seemed lost in thought, her expression unreadable.

When they reached the dusty shelves of the archives, she finally broke the silence.

“This must be exhausting for you,” she said, her voice low but unexpectedly soft.

Legoshi blinked. “What do you mean?”

“All this social interaction,” she replied, glancing at him sideways. “It seems... draining.”

He hesitated. “It can be,” he admitted, “but I like helping people.”

She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as though she understood. They worked in silence for a while, sorting through the papers.

“You’re... different,” she said suddenly, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it.

“Different how?”

She didn’t answer right away, her eyes focused on the script in her hands. Finally, she murmured, “Most people talk too much.”

Legoshi chuckled softly, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “I guess I’m not most people then.”

For the first time, her lips twitched, almost forming a smile. It was brief, but it was there.

Maybe, Legoshi thought, as they continued to work together, she wasn’t as unreachable as she seemed.

---

The warm glow of the afternoon sun cast soft streaks across the dusty floorboards of the drama club’s archive room. Legoshi’s ears twitched nervously as he glanced at the black cat beside him. She was leaning against one of the towering shelves, her sleek frame almost melding into the shadows, her sharp green eyes scanning the scripts she had pulled from the stacks.

The air felt heavy. Legoshi shuffled his feet, his large claws scraping lightly against the floor. He wanted to speak, to break the suffocating silence, but her rigid posture and piercing gaze kept him rooted in place.

“Legoshi,” she said suddenly, her voice low and deliberate.

He flinched, startled. “Y-Yes?”

“You’re breathing too loud.” She didn’t look up, her tail swishing once before curling tightly around her.

“Oh. S-Sorry.” He ducked his head, his ears flattening as he tried to stifle the deep, instinctive breaths his body demanded.

For a moment, she said nothing, her expression blank as her eyes flicked between the pages of the script. Then, with a sigh, she set the stack down and turned to him fully, her hands resting loosely in her pockets.

“You’re... not what I expected,” she murmured, her tone unreadable.

Legoshi blinked, his tail curling awkwardly behind him. “What do you mean?”

“Most people are loud. Obnoxious.” She tilted her head slightly, her gaze narrowing as she studied him. “You’re... quiet. And you don’t stare.”

Legoshi rubbed the back of his neck, his claws grazing the fur there. “I-I mean, it’s rude to stare. And I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable…” His voice trailed off, his body hunching slightly under her scrutiny.

Her lips twitched—a movement so subtle it might have been missed entirely. “Not bad,” she muttered, almost to herself.

“Uh… thanks?” Legoshi offered hesitantly, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

She turned back to the scripts, her movements fluid and deliberate. The air between them settled into a tense quiet, though it felt less sharp than before.

---

Later, back in the drama clubroom, Louis was barking orders at the cast, his voice sharp and commanding as he directed a rehearsal. Legoshi lingered near the edge of the room, holding a box of props. His eyes darted to the black cat, who had returned to her corner with the same detached grace, her pen scratching lightly against the pages of her notebook.

Legoshi couldn’t help but watch her, his large, gray ears twitching slightly. There was something captivating about her—how still she was, like a predator lying in wait. She wrote with an intensity that made the rest of the bustling room feel irrelevant.

A loud clatter jolted him from his thoughts.

“Legoshi!” Louis barked, his sharp amber eyes boring into him. “Stop staring and do something useful.”

“S-Sorry!” Legoshi stammered, his claws fumbling with the box as he scrambled to set it down. His tail curled tightly around his leg as he ducked his head, trying to make himself smaller.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the black cat glance up, her green eyes briefly flicking to Louis before returning to her work.

---

Later that day, as the club emptied out, Legoshi found himself walking beside her again. She didn’t speak, her footsteps soft and deliberate against the pavement.

“I, uh, hope today wasn’t too stressful,” Legoshi offered, his voice barely above a murmur.

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “Why do you care?”

Legoshi hesitated, his shoulders hunching as he struggled to find the right words. “I… I just want to make sure you’re okay. That’s all.”

Her ears flicked back, and she looked away. “I’m used to stress. It’s not a big deal.”

He nodded slowly, his claws tapping lightly against his thighs as they walked. “I guess… but you don’t have to handle everything alone. Sometimes it’s okay to let people help.”

She stopped suddenly, turning to face him. Her gaze was sharp, her tail flicking behind her. “Why? Why does it matter to you?”

Legoshi froze, his ears flattening as he struggled under her intense stare. “B-Because…” He swallowed, his large hands fidgeting nervously. “I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t fit in. And… I think it’s nice to have someone who understands.”

Her eyes widened slightly, the smallest crack in her composed demeanor. But just as quickly, she looked away, her shoulders tensing.

“I don’t need anyone to understand,” she said flatly, though her voice was quieter than before.

Legoshi tilted his head, his tail swishing gently behind him. “Maybe not,” he said softly, “but it’s okay if you do.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The fading light of the evening painted the campus in warm hues, and the air between them felt heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “You’re strange, Legoshi.”

He blinked. “I-I am?”

“Yes,” she said simply, her lips twitching again in that almost-smile. “But it’s not the worst thing.”

Legoshi couldn’t stop the small wag of his tail as he followed her back to the dorms, the faintest hint of hope blooming in his chest.

Maybe, he thought, some connections didn’t need words—they just needed time.

---

[hopelesslydevoted2paige]

GET HER BACK! || PAIGE BUECKERS

summary — after a week, nika invites you to go out with the team, giving paige an opportunity to make ammends

pairings: paige bueckers x fem cheerleader!reader

word count: 822

warnings: none

authors note: hii heres part 2 of casual!! i was gonna use ivy by frank ocean for this butttt i wanna save that for a more gut wrenching fic maybe series 🤓 ENJOY!!

part 1

It was a week since the events that had happened with Paige and you guys haven’t talked since.

Paige did try to reach out the next day, calling you multiple times but you refused to answer.

It was currently three in the afternoon. Your team had half of the court to use for practice while the other half belonged to the women’s basketball team.

“Alright, let’s run it one more time!” Your coach yelled as you all got into position.

The whole routine, you could feel Paige’s eyes on you. Her eyes scanned your body, watching your every move.

“Alright girls, let’s take five then get back into it right away!” Your coach clapped as everyone scattered towards the bleachers, trying to take advantage of the break.

You sat on the bleachers, trying to catch your breath before sipping your water.

“Hey girl!” Nika greeted as the whole team walked up to you. Including Paige.

You smiled warmly at her. “Hi! How’s practice?”

“You know coach, always up in our ass during the season.” You both chuckled. “You were great out there! Right Paige?” She nudged her shoulder forcefully.

“Yeah. You were amazing.”

You smiled awkwardly. “Thanks.”

KK cleared her throat. “We were wondering if you wanted to go out with us tonight?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know-“

“Come on!” Aaliyah butt in. “We miss you.” The rest of the team agreed behind her.

You sighed, giving in. “Alright. Just send me the details later.”

“I was also wondering if we could talk?” Paige whispered as her teammates cheered and conversed on their own, the two of you going unnoticed by the others.

“Paige, I don’t think-“ You were cut off by the sound of your coach’s whistle.

“Did I say five hours?! Wrap it up and let’s run it again!”

—

“Hey Y/N!” Nika greeted you, giving you a warm hug. You could tell she was already tipsy.

“Hi Nika.” You giggled, making eye contact with Paige as you returned the hug. You could see her jaw clench once her teammate started to rub your back.

You were going to have a lot of fun with this.

You sat next to Nika, grateful she got the imaginary memo as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“Y/N!” Azzi spoke up. “You guys have nationals in a few weeks don’t you?”

You nod eagerly. “Coach has been pushing us a lot lately, we might have to be sharing the court a lot more for the next few weeks.”

“That’s fine with me!” Nika smirked. “I get to see you a lot more then.” She pulled you closer with her arm.

“Nika, you are so drunk.” You giggled, playing with her hair in hopes that Paige would notice the two of you.

The blonde wasn’t having it. She stood up and stomped towards the two of you.

“Y/N, can we talk?” She clenched her jaw.

“Uh-“ You faced Nika who motioned for you to go. “Yeah whatever.”

You stood up, following Paige to the exit, smirking to yourself.

Paige turned to face you. “Since when were you and Nika a thing?”

You scoffed. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

“No! I just-“ She groaned. “Nevermind. I wanted to apologize for everything I said that night. I didn’t mean any of it.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds. “Was that really what I meant to you? Just having fun-?”

“No!” She put her head in her hands. “This past week has been hell for me. I missed you so bad and I didn’t even realize the effect you had on me until all my friends pointed it out.”

“But-“

“Let me finish. You can say anything you want if your opinion stays the same.” She runs her fingers through her long blonde hair. “You actually cared about me, about my feelings. You were there for me when no one else was! You made me laugh and feel like I was actually worth something. And all I did, was make you feel like you were taken advantage of, and I am so fucking sorry. There’s no one else for me Y/N. Just you.”

You were in shock. You couldn’t process the words that just came out of her mouth. “Paige, I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything.” She took a step back. “You can take all the time you need. I’ll still be here waiting-“

You cut her off by wrapping your arms around her neck and kissing her with all your emotions.

You could feel her grin as she kissed you back, pulling you closer as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

“Be my girlfriend?” She grinned.”

“I gotta think about it.” You teased, furrowing your brows to make it look like you were thinking.

Paige rolled her eyes. “What a tease.”

“Should we go back inside?” You asked once you both pulled away.

“We can go to my dorm. I think I might kill Nika if she puts her hands on you one more time.”

“You were jealous!”

“No I wasn’t!”

[hanjisungsbiwife]

10:39pm

Choi San x Reader

Warnings: swearing (only once I think), mentions of reader having periods, San being the best bf

Summary: life sucks but at least you have San to make it better

A/N: omg it’s been like 2 years since I’ve written a fic…WHOOPS

The day sucked, or for a more accurate description, the days sucked.

Every day for the past month has been a nonstop cycle of waking up, going to work at your full time job for eight hours, coming home and doing university work until dinner (sometimes forgetting to even eat), and then work until you pass out. Endless quizzes and essays and math notes that went on for ten pages.

The only good constant in your life was San. The guy has been there for you all throughout this crappy process. Always providing shoulder rubs when you got tense, checking in to see if you’ve eaten, leaving cups of water on your work table even if you didn’t notice until you got parched an hour later.

Right now you were trying to write an essay for your geography class. The time was now twenty minutes past six o’clock and right on schedule was your time to stress. Your legs were crossed underneath you, your laptop and notes spread out covering the coffee table in front of you. You were wearing one of San’s hoodies, specifically the gray one that he unwillingly gave to you. The one that he used to wear all the time but since you came around you adopted it as yours. You’ve worn it so much so that it started to have your scent on it rather than San’s.

The tv across from you softly played your playlist as you tried to focus. The pain coming from your stomach didn’t help. That’s just what you needed this week too. The moment you woke up you knew.

You heard the apartment door creak open “Sweetheart,” San called out, “I’m home.”

You were in too much pain to even greet him. He took his shoes off by the door and furrowed his eyebrows. “Sweetheart?”

He walked over to you and saw how you were bent over, studying and in pain. He knew when you were hurting. He sat next to you on the couch and wrapped his arms around you. Your body naturally sunk into him and he smiled softly. “That time again?”

You nodded against his chest. He softened his voice. “You doing okay?” Again, you silently shook your head. It was as if you could feel his smile sink. “Have you eaten today?” he asked.

“Only coffee this morning and an apple when I got home,” you croaked out.

“Baby, that’s not food.”

You sat up. “Knowledge is brain food,” you half-heartedly joked as you tapped your pencil on your forehead.

“Okay,” he laughed, “now you’re being delirious.” San stood from the couch holding his hand out. You looked at him and blinked, wondering what in the world was he doing. “C’mon. Let’s go get food.”

“Sannie,” you sighed, “there’s just too much to do. I can’t just up and leave when there’s notes to take and I have to finish this essay by next class meet and not to mention the-”

You felt his lips softly press against your own. “Take a break, my love. You’re overworking yourself again.” He pulled you up and stood you against his body, enveloping you into a hug worth of awards. “I’ll take you to that small Italian place you like so much and we can even bring it back here and watch your show. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like I would be missing a lot of work,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Fine,” you groaned. You moved to grab your phone. “But only if you promise me cheesecake.”

He laughed at your antics. “Honey, that was always the plan.”

He took your hand and didn’t let go the entire walk to the car. Even when he started driving, his hand was on your thigh. There was not a moment when his hand wasn’t touching you.

Flash forward to the apartment, pasta containers on the table instead of the notes, your laptop put away to charge for the night. The show you and San started together played before you, a show that you’ve both seen numerous times, but it was your show. You looked at San as he watched the tv. He was dressed in his own hoodie and sweats. His black hair lay in front of his eyes; you loved it when his hair grew out. You smiled to yourself thinking how lucky you were for him.

He turned his eyes to you. “What?” he smiled.

“Nothing,” you said, “just looking at you.”

“Okay, creep,” he laughed as he set his bowl down and opened his arms for you. You gladly accepted and laid there for a minute, taking in the moment. You squeezed his waist a bit tighter and in turn your stomach did the same.

“Jesus Christ,” you sucked through your teeth. Of course it would act up when you were in your best moment.

“Jagi,” San started to move, “get up for a sec.”

“Wait-no, I just wanna lay here,” you protested.

“Trust me, sweetheart.” He laid down facing the tv and made room for you to lay your back against his chest. When you were settled, you felt his hand come under your hoodie and lay on your stomach, rubbing small circles into your skin.

“I love you, Sannie, so much.”

You felt his lips against your forehead. “I love you always, sweetheart.”

[tagsecretsanta]

From @womble1

From @womble1 to @sailing-on-a-puddle

Prompt used: Kip Harris comes to dinner at the end of Flame Out

Completed by Womble1

Kip Harris had just finished tucking up his trusty little truck in the fire hall. It was the last one to park up, the rest of his team having made it back just before him. The air in the garage space was smokey, carrying that earthy bite distinctive of forest fires. But, better than lingering methane. Taking a last look to make sure that all the equipment was restocked and stashed just how he liked it ready for the next call, he picked up his hat and went to climb out of the truck.

Kip Harris was the kind of man who didn’t startle easily. It was essential in his line of work, and key to how he had managed to rack up so many years of experience without becoming a charred footnote on an incident report. However, the involuntary muscular spasm that made it appear that he jumped did tally suspiciously with the unexpected holocal appearing from his dashboard.

After a few totally normally paced heartbeats, Kip recognised the young man he had spoken to earlier when petitioning International Rescue for help. 

“Hi Mister Harris, I hear you’re joining us for dinner.”

“I guess that's so, young man.” he drawled, waiting to see where this was going.

“Well you might need a lift, we’re a little off the main highways,” there was a half hint of a smile under the assumed professionalism. Kip wasn’t sure what the joke was but he knew there was one. He gave the boy the benefit of the doubt and assumed he wasn’t about to become the joke. The other one…Virgil, he reminded himself, he prided himself on remembering names, it was a sign of respect, Virgil had seemed so earnest that Kip had taken the invitation as genuine. He had learnt over the years to roll with whatever life threw at him, and you never quite knew where an unexpected invitation might take you. 

The ghost of a smile had vanished as quick as it had arrived, and been promptly replaced with the same swift professionalism that Kip had noted in their first interaction. 

“We’ll send someone over to pick you up in about 2 hours if that’s alright Mister Harris.”

“Much obliged.” and he touched the brim of his hat briefly. 

Shadow touched down precisely 2 hours later, her motorbike section swapped for a module with a passenger seat. Kayo kept her steely poker face and politely ignored the ungainly noises the great Kip Harris made whilst trying to contort himself into the spare seat. She also keyed a quick message to John to ask him to run distraction at the other end so the poor man could climb out again without an audience. A job which John completed with his usual efficient economy of effort. Which in this case meant delegating to Gordon. 

Gordon achieved this by dressing himself up in ski gear which had last seen the light of day in Scotts early teens and jamming every possible zip fastening. Because as everyone knows, jammed zips can only be fixed by a grandmother's gentle persuasion. Ok, maybe not a widely known saying, but Gordon played it for all he was worth, monopolising his grandmother's attention like a pro. In fact, what started as a 2 minute ad-lib piece, was quickly extended to a 10 minute improv performance at Scotts hasty command. 

Scott and John, had been drawn with a sense of dread by the charred smell emanating from the kitchen. They had caught a glimpse of the culinary delights prepared by their loving grandmother, and the call to stall was sent out via morse code to Gordons watch. 

“What I don’t understand is why she cremated lasagne from scratch when we have some in the chiller already, the nice stuff.” John was staring at the far more inviting cheese topped tray where it sat, still blissfully charcoal free, in the refrigerator. There was a wistful glint in his eye for the meal that could have been.

Scott prodded at the carbon encased remains that were left after Grandma had dished up all the portions. She had joyfully called it “extra in case anyone wanted seconds” and put it back in the oven.

“We can’t make Mr Harris eat this, Virgil will never forgive us if his hero chokes to death on….on whatever went into this.” it had a certain sulphur tang.

“It’s not like we have a lot of choice. Kayo is already inbound and this dish will never warm through in time.” Big enough to feed a family with a heavy percentage of “growing boys”, the catering sized lasagne took up the entire shelf. 

Scott shut the oven door decisively, squared his shoulders and turned to John. “Let's work the problem then. Give me options Thunderbird Five.”

John sighed, there was no fighting it when Scott got like this. Yes, it was what made him an amazing leader out in the field, but in the domestic setting it could get a bit grating, especially for a man who had already spent far too many hours that day “working the problem” and frankly all he wanted was comfort food and maybe a hot bath. 

“Antacids and a lot of wine?” John shrugged feebly. 

“No, I think you were on to something with the chilled lasagne,” Scott started pacing around the kitchen island, always working better when he was on the move. 

“Only raw lasagne isn’t going to pose any less of a risk than the crispy one. I said, it’s too big to cook in time.”

“Ok, but what if it wasn’t.” Scott shot back, still not slowing his pacing.

John dragged a hand down his face, “But it is.” he pointed out. 

“Yes, but it doesn’t need to be.” Scott replied, pleased with himself.

John frowned and considered pre-drinks. “Come again?”

“We don’t need to heat all of it, if we can just get enough so that we don’t kill our guest, then everyone else can make do with the….with the original?”

John screwed his face up at the thought of it. 

“Oh, come on John, we’ve managed worse. Push it around your plate a bit and raid the snack stash later.” 

John shrugged and conceded with a limp nod. Scott had a point, but that didn’t mean John needed to be happy about it. “Fine, we can probably make that work, but you’re the one swapping it out.”

“Fine,” the risk taker in Scott took that condition in his stride, knowing that without John on his side the plan would be 100 times harder. “How much do you think we can heat up in…” Scott glanced at his watch, “.. four minutes.”

“One portion,” John answered, quick as a flash, “and it's going in the microwave.” 

“Boys! Make yourselves presentable, and don’t you go messing with my place settings. I’ll know if you’ve stolen any garlic bread! I’m going to greet our guest!” Grandma hollered down the stairs before diverting to the elevators to head off their visitor. Gordon followed close behind, shedding pieces of skiwear as he jumped through the closing doors. 

Thankfully, Gordons’ distraction had done the trick and by the time Sally made it down Kit had been able to extract himself from Shadows passenger seat with a little dignity still intact, and Kayo was leading him across the hangar floor towards the lifts. 

“Hi again! Glad you could join us” Gordon stepped around his grandmother waving. 

“Thank you for the invitation,” he took Gordons offered hand and gave it a hearty shake. “And who would this be?” Kip asked, turning.

“Oh that's Grandma” Gordon provided.

Kip held out his hand in greeting. “Well I can’t rightly be callin’ you Grandma now can I? It’s a pleasure to meet you…?”

“Sally,” she beamed back, as he doffed his hat with his free hand, not yet releasing hers. “You can call me Sally.” she giggled. “The boys said you knew Jeff?”

“We met just the once, at a training facility for advanced fire safety training. I used to help run a few sessions. Supplemented the income and kept the skills up to date. You never learn more than when you're helping others learn.” he said solemnly. “Jeff Tracy certainly had some original ideas for tackling the practice simulations, thinkin’ outside the box doesn’t usually involve setting light to the box. But pushing boundaries is how you grow, and eyebrows grow back on their own eventually.” he chuckled. 

Gordon was all ready to dive in and ask some more questions around that one, and possibly provide a few eyebrow singing anecdotes of his one, but Grandma physically steered her guest towards the lift up to the residential levels. 

Back in the kitchen it was all go! Microwave technology was deployed to a neatly extracted portion of shop bought lasagne.John managed not to cry as he put the rest of the dish back in the refrigerator. Scott had been sent up to the dining room to complete the swap out as soon as the pasta was steaming hot. 

Scott bobbed on the balls of his feet, restless as he waited in the little used room. It was a space that had been part of the architects’ “vision” and fitted with the billionaire private island brief, but in reality it didn’t really fit the families needs. They weren’t hosting the kind of swanky dinner parties that the architect envisioned. The long glass topped table that sat 12, with chandeliers running its whole length and high backed chairs were meant to add contrast to the natural stone wall running one side of the room, and the expansive glass windows running the other. Scott had always wondered why it had survived beyond the drawing board stage at all, but it did offer the foundations for Virgil's studio space on the floor above, and Scott could see why their father had been keen to keep that design choice. Life on the island revolved much more around the kitchen table, just as it had for generations, they were “new money” after all. 

Scott drummed his fingers on the table, but stopped when he realised that he was leaving fingerprints on the glossy surface. He looked up and down the table again, their grandmother had already laid out the portions of lasagne (?) in each place, they wouldn't even be able to get away with just taking a smaller piece. 

He eyed up the place settings and tried to work out where Mr Harris might be expected to sit. They didn’t have their own preferred seats in here like they did at the kitchen table, so there was much more guesswork involved. She would probably insist he sit facing the view, because it was the best part of the room. Virgil was likely to claim a seat opposite. Brains usually preferred end seats, but might be drawn nearer if the conversation went to technical improvements. Kayo always took a corner, clear views and clear exits. Alan would probably be at Gordons side, and Gordon always made sure to pick somewhere with enough space for two because he knew that Alan got a little nervous when there were new people around, even if you wouldn't be able to tell by looking at him now he was older. Scott usually ended up wherever was left, much like John, but somehow the others usually orchestrated things so that Scott was near the exit in case he got called away, and a quiet corner for John in case he was at his limit for people for the day. 

That left one strong contender for their guests’ seat. Decided, Scott saw the light on the dumbwaiter turn green. Another remnant from the life the architect thought they would be living, but it did save lugging dishes across the villa and made the clear up less arduous. Reaching in, Scott nearly burnt his fingers on the hot plate, hissing, he quickly switched out the offending plate, replaced it with the far more appetising alternative and was just working out what to do with the excess burnt offering when John's hologram popped up from the table unit. 

“Quick, get out of there now! They’re coming, she can’t find you in there Scott, she’ll assume you’ve been at the bread.”

Adrenaline coursed through Scotts veins, he absolutely could not get caught, not after the last time, he’d only just regained garlic bread privileges. He strode towards the door.

“Too late, she's on the stairs, hide!” John urgently whispered, before blinking out of existence. 

“Hide? Where!?” all Scott could see was windows and glass! The sideboard was full of charger plates and serving dishes that saw as little use as the room, no chance of hiding in there. Then he saw it, the dumbwaiter. It would be a squeeze, but Scott knew he could manage it. For once grateful that the architect had thought big when it came to entertaining. Although big was relative, flinging the burnt food in the sideboard, a problem for later, Scott  climbed onto the top of the counter and concertina’d himself into the narrow lift. Sliding the door closed with his fingertips, he jabbed at his comms watch “call the lift! Call lift!” he hissed when John appeared. A mechanical clunk confirmed that his orders had been actioned and Scott would have let out a sigh of relief if there had been enough space left, but with his knees pushing firming into his chest Scott made do with briefly resting his forehead against his leg. 

Alan looked like his jaw might drop off in surprise when he was instructed to open up the kitchen  hatch, only to find Scott curled up in the small space within. Alan remained standing there, lost for words as Scott extricated himself out with no little difficulty. He was nearly set for a collision course with the hard kitchen floor, when Kayo materialised at his side and hoisted his torso up while he got his feet under him. Once again Kayo was required to politely ignore old man noises as, for the second time that day, she prayed that the popping joint sounds didn't mean something had dislocated.

Grabbing Alan by the scruff of his shirt, and Scott by an elbow, she steered them in the direction of the dining room without a word. John tried to distance himself from the whole thing by keeping out of her eye line, even though he knew that was a futile hope. 

As they walked into the room Grandma was steering Mr Harris to his seat… the wrong seat. Scott hadn’t taken into consideration the angle of the sun at this point of the day, and the place Scott had earmarked was no longer the prime position at the table. John was being directed to the table setting where the one and only edible portion of lasagna was steaming gently. 

Alan walked past as Scott calculated the new state of play, making his way to the seat Scott had predicted for him. Kayo also claimed her seat according to Scotts’ plan. At least some things didn't change. Gordon was just walking past the end of the table having just set the water jug back on the sideboard, seemingly going back to take his seat next to Alan. Another peg in the right hole, but how to get all the other pieces to align? Scott sized up his options and took action.  It was going to take a Tracy Fix. He stuck his foot out, silently promising to apologise to Gordon later, and his brother tripped and went flying across the thankfully plush carpet. It had always seemed an odd choice for a dining room, but Scott didn’t question it now. Gordon rolled into a well practiced breakfall mostly by muscle memory, Scott knew he would be fine. While everyone was distracted Scott gestured to John with a combination of desperate hand movements and cobbled together ASL, he made it very clear that the lasagne needed to be relinquished and swapped with Kips this instant, and no puppy dog eyes or pouty faces were going to change that. 

The disappointment was clear in his face, but John quickly complied, and relocated the plates with no verbal complaint. 

It was the work of a split second, and Scott was able to help Gordon back to his feet before anyone could notice. 

Scott took the last remaining seat, the satisfied feeling of a successfully completed mission was quickly overtaken with revulsion when he looked down at the quickly congealing charred lump that was sat where his dinner ought to be. Oh well, he had overcome worse, he grabbed a fork with the same forced calmness of someone facing a root canal. 

The meal progressed, with carbonised lumps of pasta being chased around plates and hidden under salad leaves. Grandma barely touched hers, mostly because she was far too distracted by her dining companion. Mr Harris seemed quite willing to regale his audience with anecdotes from interesting experiences throughout his professional career. An observer would have been hard pressed to decide who was hanging off his every word more - Grandma or Virgil.

The next crisis forced itself to the forefront of everyone's attention with the high pitched beeping of the kitchen fire alarm. It was all systems go, and everyone raced down the stairs. But the drama was short lived,as they were greeted by the sigh of Max deploying a fire extinguisher directly into the warming oven where the crumble that Grandma had left crisping had caught fire. 

It was declared inedible by all including Grandma. Although Kips revelation that he had lost a significant proportion of his sense of smell and taste after a couple of interesting chemical fires early in his career forced Scott to have to fake a coughing fit in order to cover John's plaintive whine. Kip would have happily stayed discussing fire extinguisher suppression foam with Virgil and Brains had Grandma not suggested a sunset stroll on the beach.

Once the couple left, the stampede to the larder was akin to a full body contact sport. So much so that nobody noticed Max gliding off in the opposite direction looking as suspicious as it is possible for a quadrupedal robot to look. It was, however, noted that some of the snacks stash seemed to have already been taxed, but with a constantly active island population it was impossible to confidently attribute blame. Brains was able to enjoy a spot of supper a safe distance from the howling cacophony coming from the pantry.

Bags of chips were launched through the air, snatched mid flight by other eager hands. Packets of cookies spun over heads, sometimes bouncing off a shoulder only to be scrabbled at and claimed before it had any chance of hitting the floor.

Gordon, who had been complaining of a sore knee and pointedly looking at Scott for most of the meal, was now bodily hoisting Alan out of reach of a tray of jealously guarded and specially imported Reeses cups. These were quickly nabbed by a pasty arm with freakishly long reach, so the point was quickly moot.  

Kayo ducked under one arm, jabbed a sensitive pressure point to her left and poked at ribs to her right with pinpoint accuracy. Through this method she manoeuvred through the brawling, scooped her preferred snacks up into one arm and exited the fray as quick as she had arrived. A collective groan was heard when the remaining combatants realised she had taken the last bag of Doritos , but nobody felt like challenging her for them as she sat, calm as a cucumber, eating her haul at the kitchen table, watching events unfold, a dispassionate 3rd party. 

Alan was lifted by the scruff of his shirt by Virgil after he threatened to bite Gordon. He was forcibly parked at the table next to Kayo with a bowl of carrot batons from the refrigerator. 

It was at this point that John remembered the tray of lasagne, with its single slice already removed. Only seconds passed before the others realised what John was up to and in no time at all a lasagne heating production line was in place. Dolloped portions of pasta and sauce made their way in and out of the microwave with well practiced efficiency. Teamwork at it’s best. 

By the time Grandma was leading her guest back towards the villa in the hope of a willing taxi driver, the dishes had been stacked in the dishwasher and all evidence of the meal had been eradicated, baring the contented smiles on faces. 

Unfortunately none of them were quick enough to stop their grandmother from pressing a box of leftovers on her poor unsuspecting guest. John's shrug signaled that by this point it was felt that Mr Harris could fend for himself, they had tried their best. A sentiment that all others present were quite willing to sign up to. 

[gumnut-logic]

Lego Volcano (Part 6)

Alexander Sweetapple series | Lego Volcano - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

I wrote more :D And this was fun :D

Still @idontknowreallywhy, @sofasurf @womble1 and @sailing-on-a-puddle and other wonderful Thunderfam peeps’ fault :D

Extra special thanks to @onereyofstarlight for actually writing a few small bits of this as I fell out of my knowledge zone and needed serious help, and also for Kiwi advice regarding Alex - gotta help an Aussie speak Kiwi because I miss lots of things. We all speak English, but differently :D Couldn't do this without you.

All the hugs to those who commented and reblogged yesterday's chapter. You guys keep Alex alive :D

This little fic is now nearly 10,000 words long, like 9,950+

M/M and full of fluff still.

I hope you enjoy this bit :D

-o-o-o-

o-o-o-

Scott woke groggy and hot.

It was to be expected. Apparently he was sick. Damnit. Anger and frustration flared in his belly and most of the groggy part of waking up was washed away.

A tickle in his aching throat had him swallowing hard.

He opened his eyes to the infirmary. He sighed. Grandma and Virgil were going to be intolerable.

His throat tickled again and he shifted on the bed, looking for the expected cup of water. Sure enough, there it was on his bedside table. Virgil was wonderfully predictable at times.

He reached out and his body creaked as he sat up, but the cool water was a balm on his throat and worth every movement.

His tablet was sitting beside the water and he grabbed at it eagerly. He needed to reply to Jack, their lawyer, regarding the latest suit from Fischler. Jack quite enjoyed tossing Fischler’s lawyers around the courtroom, but Scott would prefer a quick end to the latest shenanigans, both he and Jack had better things to do.

His tablet lit up…in green. Oh, damn.

John has restricted your access. Play a computer game, read a book, or watch a movie. International Rescue and Tracy Industries are all being expertly handled. Carly has her instructions. John and I have your back. Relax, Scooter.

Scott let air out between his teeth.

PS: Please look after Alex for me.

Huh? Scott frowned. But as if to answer his unspoken question, a snuffle alerted him to the fact there was someone else in the room.

The tablet landed on the sheets as he realised Alex Sweetapple was sleeping in the chair beside his bed. The lanky engineer was sprawled haphazardly across the furniture, blond hair sticking out in all directions.

Virgil had obviously snuck in at some point as there was a pillow in the man’s lap.

The thought of Virgil sobered him. His brother had been so sick, and now Scott was off rota…damn. He shifted on the bed, frustrated.

Alex muttered something, curled around the pillow and onto his side, now looking even more uncomfortable than before.

He snorted in his sleep.

Scott eyed the man. He couldn’t ask for a better employee, but he was a walking hazard, mostly to himself and apparently he was hazardous in his sleep as well.

And Virgil loved him.

The thought brought a small smile to Scott’s face. It was so good to see Virgil so happy. Alex was smart, goofball or no, and seemed to be able to match his brother on engineer topics - the two of them could babble excitedly for hours.

He was also very loyal. Tia’s reports were shining, Alex was definitely an asset, he worked hard.

The worship in his eyes was occasionally hard to handle. ‘Mr Tracy’ wasn’t sure he could live up to the reverence accorded him.

But Virgil loved Alex.

And that was enough.

He sighed again and let his gaze rest on the ceiling. The very worst part of being sick was the boredom.

His tablet bleeped.

He grabbed it.

A system of equations filled over half the screen.

Oh, so that is how it is, John? Going to distract me with math, are you?

But even as he thought it, the numbers started taking shape. He'd need a Jacobian matrix to approximate the first part of the solution, unless he applied an RK4 numerical method... knowing John, he'd need a justification showing the minimisation of error.

His lips curled up to one side. Okay, let’s do this.

-o-o-o-

Alex woke to humming.

He cracked open an eyelid to find he had shoved his face into a pillow at some point - explained the struggle to breathe.

His neck creaked as he moved and as his body came online, he realised he had fallen asleep on the wrong furniture again. Erica probably had photos.

Again.

The humming was interrupted by a dry cough, but after a moment started up again.

It sounded happy.

Alex unfolded and found himself in a hospital room? Wha-? But then his brain booted fully, supplying him with details of last night and Mr Tracy-

Mr Tracy!

Alex sat up straight and the chair teetered. A wobble, two feet on the ground and he managed to prevent himself from falling on his head, but it did all get the blood pumping and consciousness clear and functioning.

Mr Tracy was sitting up in bed and…writing on the bed sheets.

Wha-?

His boss had a black marker in his hand, had spread out the sheets on the bed and was methodically making notations.

While humming some triumphant overture, his voice cracking here and there, proving he was still the sick man Alex had caught early this morning.

What was he writing?

With yet another creak, Alex quietly pushed himself to his feet and every muscle complained. Wasn’t the first time he had slept awkwardly, wouldn’t be the last, but he was more concerned with the numbers Virgil’s brother was writing down…was that a Jacobian matrix?

His eyes danced over the somewhat smudged digits on the bed. Numbers and letters lined up in chains, reading them…omigod…

“That’s beautiful!”

The humming ended in a squawk. “Alex!” The ‘A’ in his name cracked and Mr Tracy sounded more like his youngest brother than himself as his voice skipped up an octave.

But Alex only had eyes for the work on the sheets. “How did you get such a perfect solution?”

“Wha-? Oh,” he cleared his throat again, “John likes to distract me with math.”

“I’d say he succeeded.”

Mr Tracy grunted and coughed again.

There was a smudge of black ink on his cheek.

The numbers were just amazing. “How did you get that solution?”

Mr Tracy’s eyes darted between Alex and the numbers on the sheets “You can read that?”

“God, yeah.”

He stared at Alex a moment longer before pointing out a particular section. “John thought he could catch me here. The variable could easily be switched out and replaced with a static whole number - it would solve it perfectly, but a bit on the boring side. If you input an exponential function here, however, it creates a whole array of possibilities.”

Alex focussed on the equations. Whole number, yes, he could see that, the answer was clear. But if he threw in the function…the numbers just danced. “That’s so elegant. The pattern is perfect.”

“Yeah.” Scott was grinning.

Alex looked up to see those tired bruised eyes lighting up.

John was apparently right.

Scott liked maths.

Now this was a language Alex could speak.

“What happens if you put in a polynomial?”

-o-o-o-

Virgil yawned. He really wasn’t up to it, but he had to do it. Much better than Scott killing himself.

Two would be landing momentarily, with a furious Gordon aboard, and he needed to help his brothers with post-situation protocol…and possibly talk Gordon down from something vicious…that John had probably already enacted…yeah, his brothers were chaos itself.

But their hearts were in the right place.

Earlier he had checked on his biggest brother and found both him and Alex asleep in the infirmary. Grandma had left firm instructions with John adding his own version of early morning events.

Fortunately, while Scott was still very warm, he was finally getting some rest. The bed readings provided some reassurance.

Alex was a gymnast in sleep as usual. The man could sleep anywhere in some of the most outlandish positions. It certainly wasn’t the first time Virgil had needed to dig up a pillow or picked up his boyfriend and haul him off to bed.

He was adorable when he was asleep.

Of course, mentioning this when Alex was awake brought on all the flushed embarrassment which had its own adorableness that always needed to be kissed away - any excuse, really.

So Virgil was smiling when he gently tucked the pillow under Alex’s head.

And the thought had him smiling right now.

But before Two landed and almost inevitably disturbed Scott, Virgil wanted to check on him.

To his surprise, as he approached the infirmary, laughter was echoing down the hall.

“He really thought that?”

“Yeah, to infinite decimals and beyond.”

That prompted more laughter which suddenly dissolved into coughing and had Virgil hurrying into the room.

Which was not the room he had left earlier.

The infirmary was draped in bedsheets, a cupboard left askew where they had originally been folded neatly. Now they were stuck up on the walls with surgical tape and draped over the curtain rails.

And covered in mathematical notation.

At the centre of the room sat Scott in bed scribbling with the black markers Virgil had left behind earlier in the hope that John would be able to trigger a math distraction.

Apparently, he had.

But he hadn’t thought his boyfriend would end up with black smudges all over his face and hands.

Because Alex was beside his brother, holding the bed sheet so Scott could write on it.

“I think we should cube this.” Alex pointed at a spot on the sheet. “It will look good.”

“Hmm, I think a factor of…seven will be prettier.”

Prettier?

“You could be right. It definitely needs to be an odd number. Even would be too regular.”

“Yeah.” Scott scribbled something. “What if we cube this and seven that. They’ll work nicely together.”

“Oh, I like that. Follow that one through.”

As Virgil watched, Scott jotted down several lines in his smooth precise hand. His tongue was sticking out the side of his mouth as his eyes darted back and forth, calculations bouncing in the blue.

Alex’s eyes were following the numbers and every now and again, he would make a suggestion or ask a short question…

“Oh, I see what you mean. The seventh iteration is just perfect.”

“The third isn’t that bad either. That’s why they work so well together.”

Virgil found himself grinning like a loon. He knew Alex could speak math. You didn’t get to do any engineering without math. But he had no idea he could speak at Scott level math. Hell, even John got lost sometimes at Scott level.

And to see the two of them so relaxed in each other’s presence…

“Virgil?” Scott was suddenly frowning at him. “You okay?”

“Virgil!” Alex dropped the sheet and hurried over. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I was helping Scott and then fell asleep and then…did you know Scott likes maths? Not just maths, but real maths? The fun stuff?” His boyfriend was positively vibrating.

Virgil couldn’t help but grin. He placed his hands on Alex’s arms. Seriously, the man was bouncing. “I’m fine. And yes, Scott likes math. I didn’t know you liked to play, though.”

“Oh, um, sometimes.” His eyes darted back to Scott for a moment. “Usually I stick to applied math, and I’m certainly not at Tracy level.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He leant up, kissed Alex gently on the cheek and whispered in his ear. “If you can keep up with Scooter here, you’re definitely up there.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Alex brushed his fingers across Virgil’s left temple.

He let his head drop against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I’m tired, but I’m fine.” He looked over at his brother. “I’m more concerned about Scott.”

But his big brother was peering at the sheets again, eyes wide. It was obvious he had thought of something.

The marker came down and scribbled another line.

“But then again, he’s resting and amused.” Virgil’s ears picked up the approach of Thunderbird Two. He looked up at Alex. “Keep him distracted a little longer?” Alex really did have dark eyes, Virgil could stare into them all day.

“Sure.”

Scott was muttering something about a polynomial.

“Thank you.” Thunderbird Two roared into land as Virgil leant up and kissed Alex, clinging just that moment longer before letting him go.

“Hey, Scooter, zero point nine to infinity still doesn’t equal one.”

“Virgil!” His brother’s outrage was echoed by Alex’s sudden ‘What?!”

Virgil just laughed as he left them to it.

Their discussion of his lunacy followed him down the hall.

-o-o-o-

TBC

[romancingromanoff]

Second Death

Andromache the Scythian x f!reader

I decided to create a series for Andromache (my beloved). Here’s part 1, part 2, and part 3

Summary: Your first mission does not go according to plan

TW: Violence, major character death, somewhat descriptive gore, getting shot in the face, head explosions (kinda), ANGST

Words: around 3,000

A/N: Aside from being very difficult for me to write, this is probably the darkest I've ever gotten in terms of physical violence. So, uh, Happy Halloween I guess?

The plan was based off Buenos Aires 1822 (not 1922 as you had incorrectly assumed at first) which was a reference you obviously didn’t understand but was being explained to you in the most hectic way possible.

“Wait, so Nicky was decapitated-”

“Half decapitated. I didn’t actually die!”

“But you were quite light-headed for the rest of the day, my dear.” Joe feigned concern, brushing the back of his hand across his partner’s forehead and smiling like a fool.

Your leader was having none of it.

“Can we be serious please?” Immediately, the entire group’s focus shifted back to the Scythian. She certainly wasn’t going to admit it but she was apprehensive with this being your first mission. For months, you’d been doing nothing but training and begging her to let you in on the action until she was finally forced to give in. The instinct to keep you safe gnawed at Andy while it became increasingly difficult to ignore how your desire to prove your worth would only continue to grow. She recognized the same frustrations in a much younger version of herself and remembered how reckless it drove her to be.

“I’d rather we didn’t repeat that portion this time, agreed?”

You all nodded.

They laid out all the details about the traffickers and the group of people you were meant to rescue. It was an estimated 25-40 women and older girls being smuggled through for undoubtedly unpleasant purposes Andy didn’t get too detailed with. She, Joe, and Nico planned to storm the ship when it completely docked and most of the crew was on land retrieving supplies and weapons. That would leave only a few guards standing between them and the captives, who were most likely being held somewhere below deck. Once they find them, you and Booker would bring in the truck to help get everyone out. It sounded simple enough, but the fact that it was meant to go off without a hitch somehow doubled the amount of pressure you were applying to yourself. They had all done this at least once before, so if things went south then it was all because of you.

A few hours passed and you sat next to Booker in the passenger seat of the truck parked a couple of meters away from the ship and near a loading dock. With the engine off it was starting to get increasingly cold, but you didn’t even mind the chill at that point. You needed to be as alert as possible for what was to come.

Booker clearly sensed your apprehension. “It’s okay to be nervous, we’re not going to let anything bad happen to you.” He kept his voice low and his eyes glued on the dock entrance while you tried to do the same. 

Your mind was wrapped up in much bigger concerns. “I’m not worried about that. What if something goes wrong because of me? If I get hurt then so be it, I just don’t want to endanger anyone else when their lives and freedom are at stake.”

“You’ll be fine. Trust your training and lean on your team if you need help. That’s what we’re here for.” He offered you an encouraging smile that you attempted to return the best you could, yet you also wished he wouldn’t look at you with so much sympathy all of the time. As much as you appreciated everything they had done for you, you longed to show the others that you were capable of carrying your own weight and didn’t need someone to hold your hand constantly.

The two of you settled into a silence that was occasionally filled with a comment or two about nothing in particular. It didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You watched as dozens of muscular men left in packs, each one armed with at least a pistol that Booker taught you how to spot. He translated some of the French he could hear them speaking, which was mostly crude, misogynistic banter that made your jaw clench up.

“Good to know that men are pigs in basically all cultures,” you murmured mostly to yourself and tried to get your jaw to relax. Surprisingly, it earned you a gratifying laugh from the Frenchman and you were relieved when he didn’t take your comment too personally. 

“For the most part, I don’t disagree.”

“How will Andy and the others know when all of them have left?” You changed the subject upon the realization that the rest of the guard was hidden somewhere no one would see them, not even you. It was still difficult to imagine they had a better scouting position than the near-direct view you did.

“Don’t worry, they’ll know,” Booker assured you in a slightly amused tone. Some secrets were still too complicated for you to know about yet, you supposed.

Almost a half hour later, three heads eventually peered up through the shadows and Andy, Joe, and Nico lifted themselves up onto the ship. Perfectly lit by hues of the full moon, they danced towards their destination, the sheer coordination and skill reminding you of just how experienced they were. With Andy leading the pack, they silently began making their way up the vessel as a single unit. No words or other body gestures needed to be shared when they occupied the same hive mind. The group only came to a stop when they reached a door and huddled around it, trying to listen for anyone that might be on the other side. When you assumed everything was clear, Andy swiftly kicked it open and entered with her gun aimed and ready. 

Not even a minute after all three filed in, the sound of a gunshot suddenly shook you. You immediately turned to Booker, whose face gave away the slightest look of concern at the noise. This must not have happened in Buenos Aires. No more gunshots followed, thank goodness, but there were sounds of a struggle going on below deck which had the two of you on high alert. You prayed that nobody else close by could hear the commotion.

Things began to steer away from the original plan when Joe emerged from below far before he should have, struggling to keep another figure under control as he held their arms in a twisted position behind their back while continuing to firmly push them forward. Even in the dark, you could just make out how young the kid appeared to be. He couldn’t have been older than 16 and you assumed his reason for being on the ship was because he had an older relative in the crew. You relaxed when you realized that meant how unlikely it was that he’d be trained in how to fight. Joe would definitely keep from harming him unless he absolutely had to. Stupidly, you also forgot about how reckless young boys can be.

Everything fell apart in a mere matter of seconds. As he appeared to calm down, Joe eased up on the grip he held the boy with and he it didn’t seem like he would move at first. But in an instant, the scraggly kid darted from his grasp and sprinted around a corner and out of your line of sight to the completely opposite side of the ship. Booker reached for the door handle as a precaution while the rest of his body remained seated. A bead of sweat rolled down your neck despite the chill in the air and the gradual understanding that Book might be preparing to leave you on your own stilled your body completely. All of the careful planning you had fought to carefully commit to memory melted into mush.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched whistle that rang through the air and your eyes quickly followed a bright red light travel up into the sky before it burst into a large display of lights and smoke. Time seemed to slow down and your heart sped up. Of course, if there wasn’t going to be another pistol going off, it had to be a goddamn flare gun. Yelling, alarmed Frenchmen could then be heard scrambling towards the dock and Booker cursed under his breath.

“Stay here, I’ll go help the others!” Booker leaped out of the vehicle, throwing the keys which hit your petrified figure. Part of you wanted to speak up and stop him but you could only squeak out an indecipherable sound of concern seconds after he was gone. Looking back at the ship, you caught sight of Nico peeking his head out from the door they entered through. He exited with a determined look on his face and was followed by a line of women. You itched at your sweating palms when twenty women or so had piled out and there was still no sign of Andy. 

The men hurrying in from the opposite direction quickly diverted your attention. Squinting your eyes, you were able to spot a figure in the distance headed straight towards your vehicle. You nearly panicked but caught yourself, uncertain if you were dealing with the traffickers or possibly random dock workers that had been alarmed by the flare and merely wanted to check out the situation. Either way, you decided it was still too risky to start up the engine just yet. At least, you told yourself the others probably wouldn’t want you to give away your position.

That’s when you noticed a faint movement in your side mirror. A tuft of matted blonde curls belonging to a distressed woman’s face peeked over the top of one of the crates not to far behind you. She must’ve spotted something concerning, because her eyes went wider than a trapped mouse’s and she disappeared back down, ultimately causing the crates to shake. You ground your back teeth together and prayed it was only you who had seen her. But then right on cue, the blinding glow of a flashlight landed directly over the area where the woman was hiding. The man you had spotted only moments before, his flashlight lit up a devious grin on his face that urged you to hold in your breath. He even sounded like the devil when he spoke. It didn’t take a high level French skills to tell that he began goading the poor woman like it was some sadistic game to him. 

He approached the crates ever so slowly, savoring the anticipation which laid before whatever unspeakable plans he had for his victim. It then occurred to you that she was most likely paralyzed with the same fear that had struck you.

And yet, she was the one currently being hunted while you were poised to sit and watch it unfold. You, protected by both your position and inexplicable gift of immortality. None of it seemed remotely fair and your body began to stir at the simple thought.

“Under no circumstances should you be engaging in combat,” Andy had firmly laid down the law several times leading up to this day. You’d never wanted to disobey anything she said so passionately before and here it felt like you scarcely had no other option but to go against something she forbade. 

The adrenaline rushing through your veins threw your body into action before you could debate any further. Barely aware of the forces taking hold of you, you tumbled out of the door and landed directly behind the attacker who continued to stalk forward towards the woman’s hiding place. He slowly began to raise his gun, something with barrels much longer than your forearms, and it was like you didn’t have the time to properly assess whatever danger lie at the other end. You just didn’t want it pointing at her.

Without a hint of hesitation, you drove foot into the back of the man’s left knee and he immediately crumbled down to about a third of his height. You were ready for him with your knife once his face spun around and an overpowering sense of rage guided your arm to make a clean cut from just below his right eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, and finally through the center of his left eye. 

Something solid and heavy smacked the front of your head and you could hear the woman behind you scream in horror before everything went black.

Horrific violence was nothing if not a sheer constant to Andy. She had both experienced and caused enough to fill the oceans with blood, yet nothing made her seethe with rage more than watching yours spill from your head like a geyser. A thousand lifetimes stained with death could not have prepared her for the sight of your limp body hitting the ground, to which there was no question as to whether or not you were dead. Even if you had been wearing some type of protective head gear, a shotgun firing within five inches of your face would have been fatal. 

She was usually a pro at keeping her emotions under control until the mission was completed and never steered away from the plan without first calculating the absolute best course of action. The other teammates she had and the terrified group of women she was meant to protect called upon her to uphold her position as the leader, a task she had shouldered over a million times before despite whatever her personal feelings demanded. Absolutely none of that mattered now. Getting to you, killing that bastard, and wrapping you up in your arms became the only course of action she was capable of taking. 

Her first priority was taking out the son of a bitch that dared to touch you before anyone else got hurt. She handed off the little girl she had been carrying to Nico before barreling over a crate and launching herself over the side of the ship, rolling smoothly to break her fall when she hit the the dock. 

Despite how fast she ran, she seemed to move at a cursedly slow pace. She was still too quick for the man, his blood leaking from the fresh gash you had tore across his face, to notice her. He didn’t even get a chance to run before the warrior drove her labrys straight into the already-open wound. Andy could only revel in the brief taste of satisfaction for a moment before her emotions began swarming once again, the anger she had held for that man was now aimed solely at herself.

“Booker, get her into the back!” She barked at the Frenchman to take care of the hostage still hiding while rushing over to where your body collapsed. Up close, the sight was even more gruesome as blood, flesh, and bone were splattered all across what used to be your face. It would have been generous to call what was left of everything above your neck a simple stump. She knew she needed to get you out of there fast but hated to leave behind any parts of your head that might have been salvageable. Even saving something like an ear or significant chunk of your skull could aid in speeding up the healing process. She knew it would be excruciatingly painful for you to grow back yourself. 

She desperately grabbed at fistful of what she hoped was your brain before scooping you up in her arms. It was the fact that you were so much lighter than usual which made her wince, though she couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved when it meant it allowed her to run faster on her feet. Cautious yet quick, Andy made a beeline for the passenger’s seat of the truck and cradled your body in her arms while you continued to bleed out. It wasn’t a sight she wanted any of the hostages to witness and it’s not like she was letting go of you anytime soon anyway. 

“Drive!” One word was all she needed to command whomever was at the steering wheel to get out of there as fast as possible. It didn’t even occur to her to look up and check to see who she was sitting next to, as she immediately began trying to pick up any movement in your chest or a sign of a pulse in your wrist, anything that indicated the resurrection process was in motion.

“Please, please, come back to me,” she pleaded as your warm blood began to pool across her lap.

“Give her a second.” She realized it was Booker currently driving. “It’s only her second time and will probably take longer than expected.”

The women they had freed were now crammed together once again, only this time being in the back of a dark loading truck as it sped through the dead of night was probably far more merciful than them being forced to witness the transformation you were currently undergoing. Andy, however, couldn’t tear a single string of her attention away from you throughout the entire process. 

Each noise you made followed by the eventual cries of her name from your lips, once your mouth and airways had completely reformed, tore at Andromache deeper and deeper, in ways that no physical pain she had ever endured could compare. She bit down on her tongue till it was bloody as you repetitively squeezed her hand throughout the entire process. The same ones you often used to delicately recreate precious moments on paper broke more than a few of her bones. But Andy barely noticed and didn’t have the capacity to care. All she was focused on was you.

For the first time in centuries, the Scythian invoked the words of an ancient prayer and resurrected a long dead language as she tried to soothe your pain. She stopped believing in a higher power a long time ago but couldn’t shake the truth that repeating those words made her feel anchored to something even larger than her life or her immortality. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t try if it might possibly bring you a sense of comfort, which she actually prayed may happen. 

[adrienneleclerc]

Prison For Life

Paring: Walter Marshall x Latina/Hispanic! Reader

Summary: Walter Marshall is very protective over his girlfriend, Y/N, despite her knowing how to protect herself.

Warning: non translated Spanish porque luego me da flojera, errors in spelling or grammar because I don’t double check, I guess mentions of violence and sexual harassment

A/N: Based off of Olivia Rodrigo’s unreleased song “Prison For Life” which is most definitely my theme song, can’t lie. Sorry I haven’t been writing much

Y/N has always been an independent woman, she can perfectly take care of herself. However, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want someone to protect her.

Just a boy in a Chevy truck

He’s got money, but not too much

Walter Marshall has been a detective for the Minneapolis police department for over 10 years so he makes a decent amount of money. The day he met Y/N is certainly a day he would never forget. He parked his 2022 Chevrolet Silverado 2500 HD in the parking lot of Brits Pub and walked inside. He sat at the counter and waited for the bartender to turn around. When the bartender did, he was greeted by beautiful (your color) doe eyes and a small smile.

“Hola, guapo, I’m Y/N, what can I get ya to drink?” Y/N asked him.

“What do you recommend, love?” Walter asked. Y/N wanted to blush because of his British accent but she remained professional. It was a British pub after all so she shouldn’t really be surprised whenever a Brit comes in.

“Well, you could never go wrong with a classic Corona or a Dos Equis Lager, but that’s just me. You seem like a Heineken guy though.” Y/N said.

“I’ll take a Heineken then.” Walter said with a smile. Y/N smiled back and been to serve Walter Heineken in a frosted glass.

“Here you go. Would you want food or are you just here for the beer?” Y/N asked.

“Could I get a chicken tikka masala?” Walter asked.

“Sure thing, hun.” Y/N said, winking at him.

Half an hour later, Walter was eating his food, drinking his beer, and watching whatever the pub was playing on TV when he spotted Y/N at a table with 3 men (basically that scene in Man of Steel).

“Come on, Doll, have a drink with me, I’ll make it worth your while.” The guy in the green t shirt said.

“I already said no, I’m working. Even if I wasn’t working, the answer would be no. So unless you’re gonna order something else..” Y/N said, making her way to clear the empty beer bottle when she felt the guy grope her ass. Y/N turn and smack his hand away and the guy grabbed her wrist. “Let go.”

“Who’s gonna make me?” The guys said. Before Y/N had the chance to take her butterfly knife out of her apron pocket, she felt someone stand behind her.

“I will.” The deep British voice said. “You heard her, let her go.”

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy asked in an angry tone.

“I’m detective Marshall, so let her go before I arrest you for sexual misconduct and disorderly conduct.” Walter said and the guy let Y/N go while the other bartender working kicked him out. “You okay, Y/N?” Walter asked.

“Yeah, thank you for that. If you hadn’t done that, I would have stabbed him.” Y/N said,

“I Don’t believe that.” Walter said but Y/N pulled out her butterfly knife. “Oh wow, you really would have stabbed him.” Y/N chuckled at his shocked face.

“When you’re a female bartender or a woman in general, self defense is vital.” Y/N said.

“Could never be too careful. How about I buy you a drink.” Walter said.

“I can’t really drink on the job. But my shift ends in 15 minutes if you want to wait. We could go somewhere else.” Y/N said.

“That sounds perfect.” Walter said.

And he calls me “baby girl”

I run my hands through his curls

Walter and Y/N have been officially dating for 2 weeks. This was the first time Y/N spent the night at Walter’s house. She was sound asleep until Walter’s alarm woke them up. Walter shut off his alarm while Y/N covered her face with the comforter. Walter chuckled and pulled down the covers to see Y/N. He kissed her nose.

“Good morning, baby girl.” Walter said. Y/N felt butterflies every time he called her that. Y/N started to play with his curly hair.

“Good morning, guapo. What time is it?” Y/N asked. Walter checked his phone.

“It’s 6:30, love.” Walter said. Y/N groaned.

“You wake up way too early.” Y/N said. Walter got off the bed and put on his boxers.

“Well I get in at 8, I have to shower and everything. But you can rest up, baby girl, I know I tired you out last night.” Walter said, kissing her one last time. But before he left his room, he heard something that made him turn around.

“Or I can join you in your shower.” Y/N offered, batting her eyelashes. Walter groaned.

“You’re going to be the death of me, baby girl.” Walter said, before leaning down on the bed to capture her lips, making out a little before lifting her off the bed, having her wrap her legs around his waist, and carrying her to the bathroom where they showered.

And my parents think he’s good and he is, rest assured

He’s anything but sweet if someone comes for me

Walter and Y/N have been dating for 3 months now, Y/N was working in the bar when she got a phone call. She told her coworker, Jason, that she was on break and went to the back room to answer the phone.

“Hello?” Y/N said.

“Hola, amor, como has estado?” Her mom said on the other line.

“Hola mami, estoy bien. Ahorita estoy trabajando, te llamo después, si?”

“Espérate mija, te llamo para decir que tu papá y yo estamos en camino para tu apartamento, nos falta dos, está bien para ti?”

“Mami, para que me visitas?”

“Una mamá ya no puede visitar a su hija o que? Solo quiero saber cómo estás, casi no hablamos. Entonces te veo luego amor, bye.” Her mom hung up and Y/N groaned, calling Walter. He picked up after 3 rings.

“Hey, baby girl, are you excited for our date?” Walter asked

“Hey, querido listen, we need to cancel our date.” Y/N said.

“Why? Are you okay?” Walter asked worriedly.

“No Yeah, everything is fine, but my parents are coming over, I just got off the phone with my mom, so now I need to get my apartment ready, so sorry.” Y/N said.

“Don’t worry, darling, it’s fine, I get it. Talk to you later, bye.” Walter said.

2 hours later, Y/N was in her apartment, she prepared penne vodka, got a bottle of Sangiovese out of the liquor cabinet, set up the dinner table, and out on something somewhat presentable before buzzing up her parents. When there was a knock on her door she opened it but was surprised to see Walter standing outside her door with a bouquet of pink peonies.

“Walter, what are you doing here? I told you my parents are coming over.” Y/N said, pulling him into the apartment.

“Yes, I know, love. But I actually wanted to meet your parents if that’s okay.” Walter said, Y/N was shocked that he actually wanted to meet her parents.

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine, up, take another plate out of the cabinet while I put these in water.” Y/N said, kissing his cheek. Y/N got a vase, filled them with water, and checked to see if the stems were cut diagonally before putting them in the vase and setting them on the kitchen counter. Walter set up his place at the dinner table when the doorbell rang and Y/N buzzed her parents up. A few moments later, there was a knock on the door and Y/N opened the door to see her parents.

“Hola, mija, como has estado?” Her dad greeted her first, hugging her while entering the apartment.

“Hola papi, hola mami.” Y/N greeted back.

“Y/N, quien es este hombre tan guapo?” Her mom asked and Y/N blushed out of embarrassment.

“Ah mami, él es..”

“Buenas tardes, señora, soy Walter, el novio de su hija.” Walter held out his hand for her mom to shake. All three Latinos shocked at the fact that the handsome gringo can speak Spanish practically perfectly.

“How?” Y/N asked.

“Well i am from England, I learned Spanish in school but ever since I got a gorgeous Latina/Hispanic (whichever you prefer to be called, honestly) girlfriend, I’ve been practicing more.” Walter said.

“I love that. Bueno, ya está la comida, así que les sirvo la pasta y quizás un poquito de vino, si?” Y/N said.

Dinner went quite well and Y/N walked her parents to the lobby to say goodbye properly.

“Es un buen muchacho, Y/N. Se nota que te quiere mucho. Nos vemos luego.” Her mom said as they both left. Y/N got upstairs and saw Walter washing the dishes.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Y/N said.

“I crashed your dinner with your parents, it’s the least I could do.” Walter said.

“Thanks. So you’ve been practicing your Spanish ever since we’ve started dating?” Y/N asked him.

“Pues claro, así puedo decirte que te amo.” Walter said as he took Y/N hands in his. “I love you, Y/N, I really do. It was one of the reasons why I wanted to meet your parents today too.”

“Yo también te amo, Walter.” Y/N said. They kissed.

A week later, Walter and Y/N went to a bar so she could meet his friends/coworkers. Everything was going well until Y/N went to the bar counter to get more drinks for their booth and felt a person grab her ass, what is with people and her ass? She turned around but she already saw Walter pushing the guy away from her.

“What hell is your problem, man?” The guy yelled, clearly drunk.

“My problem is men like you thinking it’s okay to touch my girlfriend, or any woman for that matter, without their consent. I’m a cop so I suggest you leave before I arrest your drunken ass.” Walter threatened and the guy left with a huff. “You okay, baby girl?”

“Yes I am, thanks to you.” Y/N said, the bartender flagged her down for the drinks, she thanked him, and walked to the booth with Walter’s arms around her.

I’m a feminist, obviously, but I wouldn’t really mind him saving me

And I know that I’m fine without a man but I think I would like his protection

I’m just being honest, can’t change what I like, I’ll never forget it, he told me one night

“If anybody hurts you, ha, I’m going to prison for life”

Y/N was at her house, getting ready to go out with Walter, video chatting with her bestie.

“Wait, you’re telling me that you’re in love with this guy? What happened to you being an independent woman and a feminist.” Her friend said.

“I am a feminist, Don’t get me wrong. I still am an independent woman, thank you very much, I pay my bills, but i wouldn’t mind him fighting off any pervs from the fucking bar when I’m working. I’m pretty sure I’d get fired if I actually put my butterfly knife to good use.” Y/N said, doing her makeup

“I mean fair, it’s like you could do it, but you shouldn’t have to.” Her friend said.

“Exactly! Besides, all those romance novels I’ve read made me want like a protective boyfriend, those who say ‘where whatever you want, I can fight’, like a that’s so hot. I think Walter fits that description.” Y/N said, putting the finishing touches of her makeup.

“You certainly got a book boyfriend, I’ll tell you that.” Y/N was going to respond until she got a call from Walter.

“Hey baby girl, I’m downstairs, ready whenever you are.” Walter said.

“I’m coming, bye.” Y/N hung up. “Hey, (friends name), Walter is here, I gotta go.” Y/N said.

“Have fun.” Her friend said and hung up. Y/N got her bag and left the apartment to see Walter standing by his truck with a bouquet of roses in his hand this time.

“Happy 6 months, darling.” W,after said, leaning down to kiss her.

“Happy 6 months. Do I just put these in water and then we can go?” Y/N asked.

“Or you could do that after our date. Come on, I’m positive you’re going to love it.” Walter said. He drove until they made it to a park where there was a picnic table. He got out of the truck to open the door for Y/N and help her out. He went to the back to get out a picnic basket.

“Aw, this is so cute, Walter.” Y/N said, kissing him lightly.

“I’m glad you think so, love, let’s go, our date awaits.” Walter said, leading her to the table, setting everything up.

When they were done, he drove back to her place where she invited him up to have a slice of flan that she has made last night.

“This is delicious, love. You are an amazing cook.” Walter said, kissing her, her lips tasting sweet from the flan.

“Thank you, my mom taught me.” Y/N asked.

“Y/N, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Walter said,

“Go ahead, ask me.” Y/N said,

“Whats that scar on your hip?” Walter asked. Y/N tenses up a bit but answered him anyway.

“It was after work. This was like a year ago, um, this drunk kept hitting on me, I kept saying no, when I was leaving his table, I felt his hand on my inner thigh, the one day I wear a skirt, right, and I slapped him. The manager kicked him out, my shift ended an hour later, as I was walking to my car, I felt him grab me, I was looking for my knife when I felt him cut me on my hip and I stab his hand. He screamed, I got a bunch of napkins that I kept in my purse to press it against my hip and drove to the hospital. It wasn’t that deep but it did need stitches. So yeah, that’s what happened.” Y/N said, eating another spoonful of flan. Walter took Y/N’s free hand in his, bringing it to his lips, kissing it.

“I Don’t know what to say. I wish I would have met you before, to prevent that from happening.” Walter said.

“Whats done is done, don’t dwell on it, guapo, it’s okay.” Y/N said,

“I’ll just say this, I have fought or threatened any person who has touched you or even looked at you the wrong way.” Walter started and Y/N giggled because it was true. “But I am positive that if anybody hurts you, I’m going to prison for life, I’ll always be there to protect you or fight for you.” Walter said, kissing her.

The End

Hope y’all like it! Should I make a part 2 based off the second verse and the bridge?

[simp999]

A New Home Ch. 27

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.1k

A/N: Sorry for taking so long chat I had to walk my fish

A/N 2: (Checks watch) uh. Damn sorry ya'll. Don't expect too much out of me but I think my life should be a lil less hectic perchance. We'll see ww

Back to the Start! Previous Next

One by one, over the course of a few hours, you each put the blindfold on and attempted to hit your teammates. The difficulty increased as you went on, from standing still to slowly moving, to running. By the end of the training session, you had multiple teammates whizzing past each other in different directions getting splatted.

As the four of you sat near or against the wall to catch your breath, you congratulated them on their improvement.

"I can't really put into words how impressed I am, nor will I admit I'm a poet at all. But I will say this; what you guys showed me today was something I never thought was possible when I got here," You spot Leo's smile grow wider, glad to be getting praised for his efforts, then you lazily point at him, "Hey, that doesn't mean that you can slack off now, you dork. Don't forget that there's going to be loud music, bombs, people cheering, ink being thrown around, not to mention communication between teammates that'll make this 100x harder."

You take another glance at each of your teammates. - No. - Your family members.

"...But I can promise that this will be worth it. Every time we train, great progress is shown."

...You sure are good with compliment sandwiches, huh?

You can't promise that you'll win against team Emperor, but you're sure that every minute you spend training will prove helpful on the battlefield.

You're all exhausted from training and just on time. The next big match is going to begin in roughly a half hour. The battle between Team Monarch and Team Yellow-Green. The manga had skipped how much time was spent between important matches on the smaller, less important matches. You allow your family to relax however they so desire while you wait for the match to begin. Leo playing games on his phone, Milo stretching, and Tasha cleaning her weapon.

Soon, it's time to make your way over to Sturgeon Shipyard, biting your inner cheek as you realize how packed the seats are. What you weren't expecting, though, was for a path to seemingly be made as you walked through. You tried to avoid the many pairs of eyes on you. It almost felt like back when you first got here and rose the ranks, but the gazes were much more uncomfortable back then. The whispers paired with them used to be much more curious and sometimes rude. You almost cringed remembering those salty players you had to drown out with your headphones what feels like forever ago. But now; you take a quick look around you, - they almost seem to be staring in awe.

You glance back at your team. You wouldn't say you're standing tall, maybe a more introverted kind of confidence if that makes sense. You're still not a fan of being the center of attention. But looking back at your team- your family- a lot sure has changed.

Once you begin to settle down in your seats, doing your best to take up the least amount of room possible, you catch the way the sea of cehalopods appear to disperse yet again. This time much more obviously. From your position, it isn't too difficult to see who it was, easily spotting purple tentacles above the crowd as the tallest of the group makes his way closer.

Aloha's quick to tug you into a hug before you can sit down, dabbing Leo up before taking a seat behind you. You don't remember them being here to watch this match last time, which is odd to you. Skull's got a lollipop in hand, sitting behind Milo after being instructed by Army to do so. He does so without questioning, as airheaded as ever- but Army has a reason, given the heights of the two inklings. Army takes a seat behind Leo, and Mask - you.

You would have jumped if you hadn't noticed Aloha slowly get closer to you ear, attempting to surprise you.

"Sooo~, how's the training goin'?"

You're about to answer, but the immediate terrified look Leo shoots his way almost makes you snicker.

"Hey, it's not that bad. C'mon now."

Leo once again turns towards Aloha and dramatically grabs his hand with both of his,

"Save us, dude!"

You let out a chuckle at the scene.

"Leo, chill."

His hands shoot up in the air, and his voice cracks as he tries to make his point.

"You blindfolded us!"

"Which isn't that bad!"

He faces Aloha again,

"You have no idea how much pain I'm in."

You gently nudge his side as another chuckle escapes you, shaking your head.

Leo dramatically points to where you gently nudged him,

"See?! Abuse!!!"

Aloha's forced into a fit of giggles as he watched the scene play out before him.

"Oh, can it, dork."

"I think I deserve some sort of reciprocation!"

You sigh and roll your eyes. You rest your chin in your palm. This was most definitely his plan all along.

Aloha leans down once again, this time whispering to Leo. Obviously, you could still hear him;

"Don't worry bro, I'll set something up for you."

You've got no idea what that means, but they dab eachother up again. Whatever makes Leo happy, you suppose.

The match is about to begin, and you hear Goggles blabbing away to his team a few feet in front of you. You ignore it as you pull out a pencil, along with your old manual. You're nearing the end of the pages, and it has clearly done its time by now. But this match is crucial to be taking notes of since you'll get to see a new emotion in Emperor- frustration. As long as it goes as planned, of course. You analyze the stage, zeroing in on the exact spot that Emperor will step foot in yellow-green ink.

Once it begins, a smile filled with pride makes its way across your face. Rider obviously had many, many plans for this battle. It was almost comforting seeing the wide grin he wore all along the match, even when he did lose. He was having fun. It seems you're not the only one who's changed lots since the beginning of the manga. He was so organized right out of the gate, and only once did he falter, and only a little at that. Which lead you to assume his only goal the whole time wasn't to win, because he knew he couldn't- his end goal was to only force Emperor to feel the frustration of stepping in his ink.

Maybe, just maybe, you think: Rider truly did stand a chance at winning against Emperor if he so chose to have that as his end goal. How does that saying go? Shoot for the moon, land among the stars?

.

.

.

Next part

Feb.1.24 

[flufflepuffle296]

The Perfect Day

Hello!!! I wrote this prompt post-(ish)-s3 pre-s4 era where there was a lot of salt so this is about 3 years old I wanna say? So that’s why it’s so outdated so HEAVY Alya/Lila/Adrien/Tom and Sabine salt with a lot of Chloe sugar and slight Marigami (best ship) because *this was the vibe at the time* (ayyyy Kendall Jenner) on this page SO if that is not for you fair enough love that for you now SCROLL ON you have had many warnings about how old this is.

Also because this was written before all of s4/a few s3 episodes the lore is very much not present here and outdated so tough luck!

⚠️trigger warning!⚠️

Talking about s*icide here. Please stay safe and do not read this if you think it may trigger you even the slightest bit. Look after yourself! (Also I’m not trying to romanticise sewerslide in any way here (if you want the trauma dump version of how we came up with this you’re welcome to it) but if there is something that shouldn’t be in a post please do let me know and I will remove it but HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING).

SALT FOR (almost) EVERYONE

The Perfect day:

Marinette alarm startled her eyes open at exactly 4am. She scrunched her face up at the prospect of consciousness, but her expression softened slightly when she remembered: today was going to be the perfect day.

The perfect day, to die.

She clambered out of bed, and went downstairs to make her favourite breakfast, with a hot chocolate on the side and mountains of whipped cream, just how she liked it. She had spent the last week trying to convince herself out of this, but it was the only solution.

She was numb.

She was always going to be numb.

Nothing made her feel (that being a full sentence in itself) truly, wholly happy in her being anymore.

She went back upstairs to her balcony and ate her breakfast as the sun rose, squinting at her city. As she finished the last bite, she realised a good swing around Paris was just what she needed, so effortlessly transformed and pulled out her yo-yo, setting out for the Eiffel Tower, the source of so much inspiration for her designs.

Or rather, her *old* designs. She hadn’t the energy or mental strength to do anything she loved recently, nothing sparked much happiness or felt worth it. Her last design was about 2 months ago, but all it did was make her sob at the realisation that she was a failure and a fraud; nothing matched or was cohesive in any way. But in a way, realising her lack of talent when it came to her recent designs was sort of a net positive she concluded.

It meant it stung less when Lila spilled juice all over them, when Alya said they looked better smudged and ruined, or when Adrien delivered his father’s disapproval.

So instead she just watched the rest out the sunrise from her favourite spot, not picking out the different angles in the monument for a ridiculous geometric gown, or whatever her most recent fantasy was.

After another half hour, she sprung back home and got into her favourite Sunday dress, twirling her hair into her cutest hairstyle that the night before she had meticulously studied for hours on Pinterest, that she had always wanted to try. She packed her bag, three letters included, and ran out to catch up with her only real friend at a Francois DuPont.

Alya had left her a long time ago. After all, Lila had “no reason to lie”. She was “perfect”. Marinette was “just jealous” and “refused to cooperate”.

Because after all, it was always Marinette’s fault.

Marinette wished Alya the best in life, but she wasn’t going to waste much more energy on her. She was drained enough as it was.

Chloé was waiting for her, grinning ear-to-ear as she held up her first try at macarons for Marinette to critique. Marinette bit into the surprisingly good attempt at the cookie as they walked up to school together, laughing at Chloe’s sudden inability to swallow a cookie without choking. They walked to the back of the class and sat in their seats, ignoring their classmates.

It’ll all be over tonight anyways.

She spent the lessons talking with Chloé, as it wasn’t like she’d ever need the information after tonight. She encouraged Chloé to reminisce on their favourite times together, such as the day they realised they were different enough to be the same, or the day they realised that they (platonically) loved one another, and were the closest thing each other had to a soulmate.

That was also what Marinette considered a “perfect day”…

…Was Chloé going to be alright tomorrow?

At lunch, the pair met up with Luka and Kagami and went out to a cafe for food and orange juice, before sprinting after André the ice cream man and getting sweetheart ice cream together, Chloé paired with Luka, and Kagami with Marinette (“platonically” of course!). They parted ways once the hour was over, as they had to return to school, where Marinette spent the time daydreaming, recalling childhood memories from before Francois DuPont. This was going to be the last time she would ever remember them, after all.

They were let out of school at their usual time, thankfully no akuma that day, and Marinette, Chloé, Luka, and Kagami briefly chatted outside the gates, before parting ways. Marinette hugged them all tight as she left, handing them her letters and telling them not to open them until midnight AT LEAST.

She returned home, and watched her favourite films, favourite shows, and had her favourite meal for the very last time.

She kissed her parents on the cheeks, which was the most contact she’d had with them in a while, after Lila decided the bakery was her favourite Boulangerie, and she went upstairs to peacefully watch the sunset.

She would never have to deal with Chat Noir again and his flirting sexual harassment, so she decided to enjoy being Ladybug one last time. She transformed and went her usual route, ending up at the Eiffel Tower to finish watching the sun go down, swinging back home whilst it was still just barely light, taking notice of the cool air stinging her cheeks; the first real feeling she’d had in months.

Tikki begged her not to go through with it, but Marinette had made her decision, and renounced Tikki, telling her to find a new Ladybug; her only real plea being to warn them about Chat Noir prior.

Tikki was distraught, but Marinette used her guardianship to send her off and push her away — she needed to be alone for this, she wouldn’t let Tikki under any circumstance.

But Marinette didn’t want everything to be over quite yet, the air was too still, so she turned to her dust covered mannequin, and slowly stitched the zipper onto her old project that she never had the creativity or energy to finish. She tied a figure of 8, and snapped off the thread, taking notice of how it frayed.

Looking at it finally finished, it wasn’t as horrific as she made it out to be in her head a couple months ago, but still, not good enough to convince herself she had any worth.

She looked over at her clock.

10:30

I guess it’s time…

Marinette climbed up to her balcony and stepped over the railing, peering down. She took a deep breath…

And jumped.

She lay in the air, feeling as if she was floating for a second, waiting to to hit the ground. She thought she heard her name, but knew no one was around…

“MARINETTE!”

She felt a clawed hand grab her waist, knocking the air out of her as the two beings shot into the sky, the black figure clutching her tight.

She opened her blue eyes, and stared into Chat Noir’s brown ones.

…Brown?

…This wasn’t Chat Noir?

The black cat landed on a roof, hurriedly demanding to know if she was okay, in a voice that Marinette recognised must be —

“Kagami?!”

The black cat set her down on her balcony and explained that when Tikki was renounced, she was so distraught and furious she renounced Chat Noir of Plagg, revealing Adrien Agreste. The two Kwamis sailed around trying to find someone when they came across Kagami coming back from late night fencing. They quickly told her to read her letter as they were near incomprehensible from stress. Kagami briefly skimmed the letter before immediately snatching the nearest miraculous - the ring - and transforming into the black cat before sprinting across the rooftops as fast as she could, rushing to Marinette’s aid still clutching her letter. She arrived just in time to see her topple over, and saved her just before she hit the ground.

Marinette started sobbing in Kagami’s arms. Kagami sobbed with her a few minutes, promising to never let her go. She eventually picked her up once again and carried her to Le Grand Paris, where she banged on Chloé’s window. Chloé opened it and let the two crying girls in, announcing Luka’s presence as he happened to be in the room teaching Chloé guitar. He rushed to the girls when he saw them collapsed in each other’s arms. Marinette was feeling the first emotions she had felt in months, refusing to leave her saviour’s side, clutching to Kagami. Luka and Chloé listened as Marinette vented how she had been feeling, or rather the fact that she hadn’t been feeling anything, whilst Kagami stroked her hair and wiped her face, kissing her forehead every so often to remind her she was safe.

Chloé had a room prepared and the four of them off school the next day, booking Marinette in for a highly rated therapy appointment. The four friends snuggled in each other’s arms, Marinette in the middle. They fell asleep immediately, crashing from the excitements of the past hour, except for Marinette, who lay awake just a few more moments to make a promise to herself.

Every day, from today, I will make into the *perfect* day.

—————————————————————————

Hello me again!!!! I had a few other endings in case we weren’t feeling this one so just quickly:

Alternate ending 1) She jumps. When midnight comes around her friends open her letters and rush to her place, only to find police and an ambulance declaring her dead, and if you want some more angst, Chloé and Kagami storm into the school the next day scream-crying at their classmates whilst Luka repeatedly whispers “I couldn’t save her” crying in his mum’s arms. (Very depressing)

Alternate ending 2) Marinette realises that she doesn’t want to die. Why should she? She’s just spent today just doing what makes her happy? She should live like this everyday! She has so much to live for! Sure therapy is needed and some communication too, but she can do it. (Yayyy happyyy)

This was for the most part written when I was around 14/15 so if the sentence structure is a bit shit I’m gonna blame it on that (and not my lack of progress in writing in the past 3 years!)

[hawthorneonarainyday]

Who We Are - Steve Harrington (2)

Prologue | Steve 1 | Eddie | Billy | Ian The two of them had been friends for twenty-two years now. They'd grown up right next to each other, casually holding hands for all their lives. What neither of them had ever considered, though, was that their relationship could ever be anything else. They were just them, Steve and her. Right? Attention! - This is the third part of 'Grey Overalls and Rainy Days' and 'Who We Are (1)'. Please read those first if you haven't yet! Information you might need ♥ ~ Word Count: 16.113 3rd Person (She/Her) Flashbacks will be presented in cursive, since tumblr doesn't really have the neatest typesetting system. In this chapter you will find: Rain, cursing, slow-burn childhood bestfriends to lovers, a lot of physical contact, canon tinkering, flashbacks, arguments, nightmares, comfort, lot's of kissing. There will be mentions of food and eating, blood, canon level violence, loss, grief, death, sex, trauma, bad parenting, cheating, misunderstandings Enjoy ♥

For most of Hawkins inhabitants, it was one normal night.

Cold and quiet, the air moist from the random bouts of rain that fell throughout the last few days, it trickled past the little towns’ population without a hitch. Few people were still awake at this hour, most exhausted from a weeks’ worth of work and everyday life. Families with small children and babies may have been the exception to that rule, at least whenever one of the little ones woke its parents with little, desperate screams for love, warmth and attention.

Another exception were those lucky people whose Friday night dates had gone over successfully, some huddled in their bedrooms on their own reminiscing over their new found love; others wrapped up together in a passionate tangle of limbs, hidden away from prying eyes.

Then there were the few people who were still working. The night shift, the owls of society; people that were easily forgotten by all the other larks. Instead of singing loudly and proudly, flapping their wings audibly to get wherever they needed to, the owls would glide through the night on silent wings. No hooting, not even the rustle of feathers could be heard as they were cooped up at their jobs, serving a few stragglers at diners, bars and gas stations or helping the hurt and elderly at hospitals, sanatoriums, and nursing homes. And, come morning, they would vanish just as silently; back into their homes for no one to find until night dawned again.

The last exception, perhaps the most unpleasant one of the lot, were people like her. People, who had been sleeping for a good few hours already, softly hidden under their duvets. The people who had started out with warm, pleasant dreams about their deepest desires only to watch them turn. The bright, healing light would turn red and suddenly everything looked dark and menacing. People would turn to threats, animals to monsters and panic would slam into them the second they noticed something was off. They would run, fight, try to survive but fail. Then, at the very last second, a moment before the inevitable happened, they would wake up with a fearful scream.

“NO.”

She sat up, teary eyed and hands balled to fists at her sides. Her breath was laboured and unsteady, similar to someone who’d run for their life. The room was dark - usually something she didn’t mind that now had turned into something to fear once more. It took her half a second, maybe less, to kick her duvets aside and stumble to the phone on the wall. She didn’t think about what she was doing, or else she would have hesitated. If she’d been thinking clearly, she’d known that a call like that was always a gamble and, more importantly, probably not necessary.

But she wasn’t thinking clearly.

Her mind was still haunted by what she’d just seen. Pictures of her friends, similar to actual events and yet so, so different. Her heart still hammered in her chest, threatening to burst through her rib cage, as she finished dialling and heard the usual tone. It beeped once, twice, three times and she felt dread crawl up her throat, probably accompanied by bile and maybe even her soul until finally finally someone picked up.

“…Hello…?” The voice on the other end was muffled by sleep, indicating that its owner had been deep asleep until a few moments prior.

“Steve?” She asked, noticing how her voice was laced with panic but unable to do anything about it. There was noise on the other end, a quick, surprised rustling, as Steve sat up straight in bed, triggered into hero-mode by the tone of her voice. “Steve, are you alright?”

“Am I- yes, of course, I’m alright. Are you alright? What happened, what’s up?” Relief flooded her system, dousing her panic and having her legs grow weak. She used her shoulders and the wall to keep herself standing, hands still cramped around the receiver. It was shaking, the cold plastic of the receiver in her hands tap tapping against her feverish skin again and again. It was relief, it was adrenaline and it was one more thing. Because relief wasn’t the only thing that washed over her. No, with it came shame.

Of course he was alright.

He was probably at home, maybe with some tired girl that was now eyeing him in confusion. What would happen to him there? Of course, of course, of course. She’d let her panic guide her again, despite being able to control it most nights. It was rare however, for a dream to feel so real. So desperately real that she woke up and couldn’t see the lines of real and fake.

“Hey, talk to me.” Steve said, his voice distorted by the phone and laced with worry. That, if anything, made her feel even worse. “Are you alright?”

She blinked a couple of times, tears rising in her eyes as she grappled for words - any words really.

“Yeah, I’m-I’m alright, I just…I had this-It’s just-“ She sobbed, unable to hold it back despite desperately trying to. “God, Steve, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I- I shouldn’t have called you in the middle of the night.” Nearly every word was torn apart by a desperate sob, so she wouldn’t have been surprised if Steve hadn’t understood a damn thing she was saying. But, apparently, he did. Because it wasn’t two seconds before she heard more rustling.

“I’m coming over.”

“Wait, no, Steve, you don’t-you don’t have to. I-I’m fine, I will be-“

“Ten minutes.” He didn’t even listen to any more of her protests. The line went dead.

Shit.

Still sobbing, she sank down to the floor beneath the telephone. Just like Steve had done eons ago, she let go of the receiver, causing it to jump up and dangle somewhere next to her head as she tried to slow down her tears. She felt stupid and childish for the amount of relief she had felt the moment Steve had confirmed that he was alright. Of course he was, god, what was she thinking? How much of an idiot could one person be? And Steve had been so calm about it. If it had been the other way around, she would probably have snapped at him and thrown the receiver down to go back to sleep.

Okay, that was a lie. It was far more likely that she would’ve hung up the phone and rushed out in PJ’s and slippers to drive her bike across town to the Harrington house, to the boy who was despairing much like she was right now.

Although, admittedly, it would have taken her far longer than it took him.

It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes when Steve unlocked her front door, his shoes already half kicked off by the time he’d relocked it behind him. Just like he’d secretly expected, she was still sitting beside the phone, curled up like a child and sobbing into her arms. She could hear his steps over her cheap floors, the soft tapping of socks against linoleum and then carpet. The dangling receiver was hung up with a soft ‘click’ before Steve crouched down before her.

Cold, familiar hands framed her face, carefully lifting it out of his hiding space. Steve sent her a semi-comforting smile when their eyes locked, worry still setting his brows in a deep frown. With his thumbs, he wiped some tears off her face; a gentle move that made her want to cry even more.

“Hey there, sweet girl.”

That was all he said.

He didn’t ask any questions; he didn’t demand any explanations. He just stayed there, one hand still stroking her cheeks as the other smoothed out her hair which, in turn, made her sob even harder. Steve sighed at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” The words were breathless, squeezed out between tears and shame.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay.” He said, gentle yet firm enough to have her stop. For a moment, he watched her sob on helplessly; but then he moved, leaving his crouch in favour of sitting down, his back against her bed. To do that, he had to let go of her face, grabbing her hand instead. Much like he’d done back in family video, he used his thumb to massage away any tension. He did so thoughtlessly, an unconscious effort to calm her down. Her eyes focused on their hands, the movement a welcome distraction.

“I had a dream.”

“I figured.” He didn’t ask what it was about.

She’d tell him anyway.

“You were in it.” Steve just hummed, encouraging her to keep going. She bit her lips for a second, debating whether she actually should. But she did, of course she did. “It was ’83 again.” Funnily enough, it was a year she rarely dreamed about – if ever. In the grand scheme of things, that year really hadn’t been all that bad. “Just as you did, you freaked out. Dragged me out of the Byers house and shoved me towards the car. And, of course, I was yelling at you.” ’83 was maybe not a totally horrible year, all things considered, but it hadn’t been a good year for the two of them.

They’d argued a lot.

About Steve ditching her for Nancy all the damn time, about her being ‘jealous’ over his ‘functional relationship’ and over him still being friends with Tommy and Carol, even after what they’d done to her. In the friendship of her and Steve, that year was a mess.

‘Well, why do I have to suffer just because you can’t pick your boy toys properly!?’ He’d said to her when she asked him why he was still hanging around their former friend group. ‘Honestly, what did you expect? You’ve known Tommy since middle school – he was always a dick. Your fault for going steady with him.’

Sure, he wasn’t wrong. She’d accepted Tommy despite knowing his character. But that didn’t mean she deserved to be cheated on, like he so unsubtly hinted. When she said nothing and just stared at him, he immediately realised what he’d said. His eyes widened at his own words and his mouth opened.

‘Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t-‘ He didn’t make it further, because she’d socked him straight in the face, just like her big brother had taught her. It would be days later that she’d find out how good a hit she’d landed. But right then, she just stared him down as he looked up at her in shock, a hand pressed to his eye.

‘You’re an ass, Steve Harrington.’ She’d spat, rage and hurt steeling her voice. And with that, she’d turned and left him, sitting at the quarry all on his own.

That day would be the last time they spoke for a good, couple of months. It wasn’t until Barb vanished from his yard that she’d finally found enough good will in herself to actually go and check on him. Not that that had meant she’d forgiven him, hell no. She’d basically yelled at him the whole time and he, the mean bitch he was back then, yelled back; neither of them able to tell each other how sorry they were and how much they’d missed each other. Because back then, that was who they were. Two dumb, stubborn kids.

She sighed and looked up at the Steve of ’89, older and nothing like the dick he’d been in high school. That was the Steve she’d always known, always seen in him. The kind and caring, slightly dorky version he’d nearly lost by pretending to be something else.

“And just like you did back then, you saw the lights flicker and froze. I immediately knew what you were going to do, so I tried to stop you, but you idiot didn’t listen.” When did he ever. “You just yelled ‘Nancy, Nancy’s in there!’ and ran back in. And I followed you - of course I did.” Steve nodded, the dream in line with what he remembered about that night. “But when I stumbled into the room, you didn’t have that damn bat.” A gaussian blur fell over her surroundings, tears rising once more. Her voice was frail when she went on, thinned by her effort not to sob again. “Jonathan still had it, but he was out cold and the Demogorgon was heading towards Nancy and you-“ Her voice broke, the sob finally freeing itself. “- you idiot jumped in between her and that thing, pulling one of your stupid hero moves without any weapon or armour.” She used her free hand to wipe her eyes roughly. “That thing, it just-it tore you apart, Steve, and there was nothing I could do. I went for the bat, I killed that thing, but by the time I was done you were already…you were bleeding so much. I couldn’t help you and you were barely conscious, gurgling up blood and shit-“ For a moment, she covered her eyes with her hand, trying and failing to push the image out of her mind. “I was panicking, because this…this couldn’t be it.” The same desperation she’d felt in her dream was now creeping up her chest. “It just- I couldn’t even tell you that I was sorry, for fucks sake. The last things you’d remember about me would be me giving you a black eye or me yelling and cursing at you. And I tried so hard to keep you alive, but you-you suddenly went all slack and stopped breathing.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “That was when I woke up. I should have known it was a dream, because shit, I wouldn’t be in this house if it had been real. I’d likely be- I don’t know, Mind Flayer goo or Demodog feed or whatever. But it-it felt so real, Steve. It felt so real, because it was such a tiny, seemingly meaningless difference that triggered such a different line of events, I just-I needed to make sure that you were okay.”

Steve was quiet for a moment after she’d finished, processing all that she’d said, before letting out a deep sigh. With gentle hands, he pulled her forwards and into his lap. His arms curled around her waist; a firm, grounding pressure. Her arms found their way around his neck all on their own and she pressed herself against the boy in an effort to remind herself that he was actually there. Wordlessly, he accepted her clinging and started to pat her back, merely a calm, rhythmic movement of his hand against her shoulders.

“I’m okay.” He said, his voice close to her ear. “I’m okay, sweet girl. It was just a dream.” Her breath stuttered at his words, unshed tears making it hard to breathe. “Just a dream.”

“I know.” She whispered back. “Now, I know. I knew the moment you answered your phone.”

“Good. Good job.” She didn’t know what exactly the good job was and she didn’t feel like asking either. Instead, she pressed herself closer to him, fingers brushing the hair on the back of his head. This close, all she could smell was Steve’s signature scent – sandalwood, lavender and just…just Steve.

It was a scent she always liked – she bought him the cologne that caused two thirds of it – but right then, on the floor of her tiny bedroom, it felt more important than ever. Enough, to have her inch that tiny bit closer, press her nose as close to his skin as she could and just breathe. In and out, in and out…

If you’d ask her later, she couldn’t have said why, but right then everything felt… different. More raw, more open, more important, more terrifying, more honest, more overwhelming – so, so overwhelming. His hands on her back, his chest against hers, his breath ghosting her skin, his scent all around her - all overwhelming to her already frayed nerves.

And yet there was a small, minuscule part of her that didn’t want to ever let go. It wanted to hold on to the boy forever, bask in this state of familiar and unknown, of overwhelming and calming and just breathe him in.

For a moment, a self-indulgent, selfish moment, she just did.

Even later, she wouldn’t be able to tell you who’d started it; whether it was a decision they’d both simultaneously made. Maybe it was Steve trying to comfort her in whatever way he could or maybe it was just her, instinctively seeking him out. All she knew, was that their lips met halfway and suddenly her senses, already overwhelmed by his presence, were flooded even more with all things Steve.

Their kiss was nothing like either of them could’ve imagined. Mainly because neither of them ever did - but if they had, it wouldn’t have been anything like this. There was no desperation or hunger; no hidden terror or huge feelings. No one was clinging to the other, no one was moving hurriedly, trying to get closer and closer before the inevitable end. There was no fire, there was no fear. Just…

Comfort.

This kiss was strangely comfortable. Their lips were moving against each other in the softest way, a new sensation that left a pleasant tingle in its wake. What should have felt nerve wrecking, terrifying, felt anything but. No, the kiss was filled with familiarity and warmth. Like they’d been here before, like they were coming home after a long time gone; welcoming and longful.

God, so longful.

A deep sense of longing replaced any possible adrenaline. It wasn’t quite… complete, though. The longing could have been for love, for each other, for intimacy or touch. There was no name to put to it yet. It was just there, having them both pull each other closer, having them deepen the kiss with no thought, just pure longing.

Underneath that kiss, she could feel all that was Steve. She could feel his kindness and consideration within every move. The smell, the taste, the way his tongue brushed her lips, all of that was so, so him that it felt like they’d kissed a million times before. And yet she never wanted it to end, wanted to keep exploring this new familiarity with him until they both ceased to exist. She wouldn’t have missed anything, as long as she could have this, have him.

Even so, the moment had to end.

It did with her reluctantly loosening the tight hold she had on him, slowly drawing back. Her forehead stayed against his for another moment, noses touching in the softest way, as they breathed each other in one more time. But eventually she eased back so she could see his face. His lips were a soft pink, clearly kiss-bitten, and his eyes were trained on her, black in the low light of her room. With careful fingers, she cradled his face in her hands; soft knuckles gliding over unshaven cheeks. A deep breath left Steve’s lips at her touch, both tired and comforting.

“I didn’t want you to come rushing all the way here.” Her voice was quiet, merely a soft whisper in the night. Under his eyes, there were dark circles; Thin skin darkened by long days and short nights. His breath hitched lightly when her fingers shifted, the tips of her fingers now curling into his hair as her thumbs drew softly over the darkened skin. Steve leaned into her hands a bit more, hot air washing over her fingers with every breath he took.

“I know.” He said, his fingers curling around her wrists, holding them in place. Steve’s hands were too warm; two burning bracelets pressed against her skin. Part of her wanted to shake them off, while the rest of her just revelled in the feeling. His dark eyes never left hers, both knowing that whatever moment they were having, whatever emotions were passing right then would be over as soon as they did. “But you needed me to.”

She did.

Because that was who she actually was.

***

No one mentioned that night after it had passed.

That should’ve been dreadful, horrifying, and uncomfortable – but it really wasn’t.

Steve had stayed the night, neither of them wanting to let go of the other. They’d moved to the bed, covered themselves with her duvet and fell asleep far too close. There were little reservations between the two, having shared a bed more often than anyone would like to believe. They knew each other’s quirks; she knew how to evade Steve’s grabby arms and how to stop him from hogging the blanket just as he knew how to keep her cold feet out of his area and how to get her to stop snoring with just his elbow. After that night, they just knew one thing more about each other. One less thing to be shy about.

The next morning, they’d downed a cup of coffee each; Steve close enough to bump her hip as they stood in pleasant silence. They’d gotten ready, Steve taking painstakingly long to do his hair and she yelling about it, and then he had driven her to work. The drive was spent bickering about who would drive her home later, seeing as Steve was working late. He went as far as making her promise she would ask one of her boys for a ride and only after that was he willing to let her go. She jogged the few steps inside, waved at him and he drove off into another rainy day.

It was the same as always.

 An old routine, repeated a hundred times over the years they’d known each other. There was nothing uncomfortable about any of it, no regrets, no talks to be had. There was nothing but her and Steve, exactly like they’d always been.

Maybe that was a good thing? It could be that the two of them had simply unlocked another level of platonic skinship and intimacy. That wouldn’t be the worst thing and honestly? It wouldn’t be surprising either. They’d always been extremely close, never afraid to hug, hold hands or touch each other in any way. Maybe kissing was just a new addition, a new stage to their ever-growing friendship.

Or, maybe, both of them somehow knew that it wasn’t yet the time. That, whatever had happened that night, was not yet ready; that there was something missing before they could put a name to it. And maybe, just maybe, they both knew that mentioning it too early, mentioning that kiss while the sun was out, would lead to shame and despair. That asking for answers, for clarification neither could give would have them stumble and fall.

Maybe they both knew, that patience was a virtue worth having.

So going about their days as usual didn’t hurt. It was nice to see that they could go back to what they were. Even as weeks passed, they could meet up, hang out alone or with their collective friends and just be themselves. She would still call Steve every night and ask about his day. He would still show up at her shop at random, completely unannounced, and yet always welcome.

In fact, that was what he did that day.

At noon, a couple of weeks after the nightmare, he’d kicked open the door to her shop like he owned the place. In his hand, a huge box of donuts for the hungry mechanics of Hawkins only repair shop. Tiny drops were covering the box from where it had been hit by another day’s rain – on the news, the weatherman kept telling them it would be over soon, that the everlasting rain would soon be gone, but for now they’d still have to make due – but the donuts itself were still deliciously warm. Steve had snagged them a few before her ravenous boys could devour them all, and now he was sitting on a table she’d repeatedly told him not to sit on and watched her work with mild interest.

And work she did.

One of the richer inhabitants of Hawkins, a neighbour of the Harringtons most likely, had booked in his car with mysterious ‘troubles’. Usually that wasn’t strange or worry-worthy at all. Few people knew what they were talking about when it came to cars, though many of them liked to act as if they did. But what the dude had ‘forgotten’ to mention was that his car was one of those imported fancy-ass cars that were more trouble than they were worth.

“Ah fucking shit.” She sighed and pushed her hair back. “This is a nightmare. An absolute fucking nightmare. I hate rich people. I hate them so much.”

“Oi.”

“You’re not rich, pretty boy. You work at family video.” Steve protested from behind, but she didn’t listen.  “Otherwise, I’d have you buy this car fresh and new to save me the god damn hassle.” Steve just snorted at her nagging, offering up a donut for her to bite. Obviously, she did, humming happily at the taste. It was simple yet pleasant, soft dough with a coating powdered sugar. For some reason, those exact donuts had always been her favourite while other people tended to label them as boring or too plain. But she loved them, maybe even too much.

“Come on, you already did so much…stuff.” He said, wiping some powdered sugar off her lips with his thumb. “I mean, you totally look like you know what you’re doing.” He pointed to the assortment of stuff, picking up a spark plug with two fingers. “Like, when you removed this thing? Total pro.” She rolled her eyes, plucking the spark plug out of his hands.

“This ‘thing’ is a spark plug. And it’s covered in coolant, idiot.” She grabbed one of the wet wipes she kept on hand to wipe his fingers and offered up her sleeve so he could dry them off. “Keep your phalanges off this stuff, or your hands will end up like mine.” He shrugged.

“At least then I look like I have a respectable job.”

“You do.”

“Oh sure, I rent out videos for a living – can’t get any more respectable than that.” She grinned as his fingers wrapped around her wrist, fingertips directly over her pulse point. Now, if they’d been paying attention, they would’ve noticed her boys throwing them suspicious glances. Everyone knew that a lot of Steve’s and her relationship was based on skinship, with both of them being on the touchier side, but lately, their casual skinship had reached new heights that hadn’t been lost on the people around them.

“Well, I do know something that might be a little more respectable than the honourable duty of rewinding tapes and restocking porn shelves.” The boy groaned, his head tipping back.

“Jesus, you’re more excited about that than I am.”

“Duh, I have to be excited for the two of us. You won’t, will you?” She cocked her head with a grin. “Nurse Steve?” He flicked her forehead and pushed her away.

“Yeah, yeah, cool yourself, dude, you’re getting oil on my jeans.” Whoops.

“Oups, sorry.” She stepped back. “But it’s not just oil, it’s coolant too.”

“Sure, and whatever else they smear inside a car then.” He shrugged and leaned back, gazing at the assortment of stuff she’d removed from the engine. “What exactly is wrong with that thing that you have to rip it apart like that?” She rolled her eyes, swatting his hands away.

“Don’t touch those, you’ll get them mixed up.” Steve was very talented at causing mild chaos. Which wasn’t all that bad, usually, but not then. Not with that car. “That baby” she pointed towards the car “has a major blown head gasket.” Steve winced. He may have known nothing about cars, seriously he barely knew how to change a tire, but he’d listened to her whine about head gaskets enough to know that those were nasty to deal with.

“Shit.”

“Yupp.” She sighed deeply. “And the moron has likely be driving around with it for quite some time. Ugh, I don’t even want to check for warpage. Might as well just get rid of that damn thing, she’s more coolant than oil at this point.” Why were people like that? The mechanics were pretty certain the moment Billy had moved the car inside for her, all eyeing it with a big sigh. It wasn’t even subtle. The poor thing was literally smoking like a god damn dragon and everybody should know that that wasn’t a good sign.

“But you can fix it?”

“Think so. Depends on how and if I can get the parts, because apparently American cars aren’t good enough for him.”

“German?”

“French.”

“Yikes.”

“Exactly. Getting the parts is not going to be fun, like, at all.” She leaned her head against his shoulder with a sigh. “And the cleaning…I hate the cleaning so much.” Mainly because it bored her to death. There was nothing fun about scrubbing a valve cover with some cleaner and a toothbrush. It was repetitive and messy. Steve chuckled, patting her head before shrugging his shoulder.

“Come on, sweet girl, take another bite and then get back to it. You can do it.” He held out the donut once more and took care of the sugar on her lips straight after. “And, you know what? Let Munson do the cleaning. Serves him right.” She grinned at that. Maybe she actually should, put the newbie to work where he couldn’t break anything. Still chewing, she went back to the car to keep disassembling it. “Oh, and we’re getting a new delivery soon.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmmh. And guess what’s on the list.” She perked up.

“Don’t tell me it’s-“

“’Working Girl’, yeah.” He watched her do a happy tippy tap from one foot to the other while unscrewing something out of view. “And Beetlejuice too.”

“That’s the one Robin likes, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, she’s been talking about watching it with us for ages now.” She nodded. It was absolutely true, since Robin had a not-so-secret obsession with Winona Ryder. Countless times had shared movie nights begun with ‘Square Dance’ – much to Steve’s dismay. And sure, he’d protested but Robin won each and every time.

“Well, when’s the delivery due?”

“Monday, like always.”

“Then how ‘bout a double feature on Friday? Robin, You, Me – my place.” He snorted.

“First: Why don’t I get to pick a movie?” Because he’d likely pick Top Gun again. And nothing against Tom Cruise, but god she couldn’t watch that one again. By now, she could play every part herself. A one women Top Gun. “Secondly: Friday the same week?”

“No, Steve. I meant November 27th 1991, please. That should be a Friday, right?” Steve sighed, shaking his head. Not that she saw that, she just knew.

“You know, you could’ve just said yes.”

“Stupid question, stupid answer, Steven.” He scoffed.

“Bite me.” Maybe she would, next time he offered up that donut. “I’m busy that Friday, so that’s a no for me.”

“What, busy on a Friday night?” Her brows rose as she tried really hard to loosen a nut. God, please. She didn’t want to ask Billy or Ian again. The boys always teased her if she did. “You got a hot date or what?”

“Yes, actually.” She nearly dropped the wrench and fumbled to catch it, before her head snapping towards him. He was still sitting there as she’d left him, fiddling around with something she was sure she’d asked him not to. But right now, that wasn’t important.

“What?” It didn’t come out as aggressive as one might think. Rather, mildly surprised. Extremely curious. Something like that.

“Yeah, uh…You know, Robin said that, uh, Chelsea – remember her?” She furrowed her brows, raking her mind for a Chelsea. Initially, there was nothing but after a moment, it clicked and the image of a girl with a choppy brown bob and kind brown eyes appeared before long.

“Uh…yeah, I think we met her…once? She’s the one with the brown bob, isn’t she?”

“Exactly, her.” He nodded, rubbing his hands together. “Robin told me that Chelsea mentioned that she thought I was kinda cute, so Robin offered to set us up.” Yeah, she could vividly imagine that conversation. Robin was quite the wannabe Cupid, if given the change. Both Steve and Chelsea probably didn’t know what hit them. “And, well, she did. So Friday it is.”

“Oh. Uh, okay. But what, uhm, what happened to ‘just wait and see’? I thought you wanted to do that. Take a break for a while.”

“Yeah, well, I guess that kinda counts, doesn’t it?” Did it though? Was two weeks really ‘waiting’? “I mean, it-it’s a really short wait, sure, but maybe me giving up was, you know, enough?” Well, she didn’t know about that. But she turned back to her car with a slight nod.

“Yeah. Maybe.” She shrugged. “It’s great, though, Steve. That you…found someone so quickly.” Didn’t feel great, though, for some reason. No, quite the opposite actually. She felt like she wanted to kick something.

“Yeah, yeah, no, really.” He said, nodding to himself behind her back. “I think so too.” She kept her eyes on the engine, focused on the stubborn nut. Annoyance was already settling in, most likely because she knew what would follow. Steve took no notice of her mood, too preoccupied with his usual rambling.

“And, you know, Chelsea, she, uh, she wants to be a dentist, I think. Honestly, I never listened to properly when Robin told me, but I think that’s what it was. And that’s, like, really cool isn’t it?”

“Super cool, Steve.” Inside her, something moved. It was something she’d felt every time when Steve got like this, all rambly about some girl, but she never felt it as strongly as she did now. It was something sticky and ugly crawling around, looking for a way out. And she knew, she just knew that she shouldn’t let it. Whatever that ugly feeling was, it had to stay caged in her ribs until she could figure it out.

“Right? That’s, like, a proper job. And, you know, she’s really smart too. Remember that theory she told us about, that, uh, parallel universe bullshit? That was super, uhm, profound.” God, was he just trying to find big words to describe her? She’d heard that theory and it was, in fact, bullshit. Nothing made sense about it, even Robin had said so. And she knew Steve had thought so too, shit, he’d told her himself.

But here he was, chatting on. Her brows kept dipping lower with every word he said, the ugly creature inside her chest fought harder to get out; leaving hot, angry residue wherever it stepped.

“And, yeah, well she is really pretty. Obviously.” That was actually true. Chelsea was extremely lovely to look at, all petite build and nice smiles. Way back, Robin and she had even made fun of Steve, because she was almost exactly Steve’s type. Her face might have been a lot softer than Nancy’s, specked with eyes the colour of hot chocolate, but the rest fit the bill well enough. The full brown hair, the petite body, a flawless porcelain complexion, the big eyes and even the clothes were all things Chelsea and Nancy had in common. Chelsea was much more agreeable and a lot nicer than the Wheeler princess, though, at least at a glance.

“I think that, with enough time and talk, she and I can probably get to know each other. You know, learn to see eye to eye and stuff. Well, we do kinda see eye to eye – at Robins birthday party we did agree that blue is a great colour on brunettes.” Steve blabbered on, not noticing that she had stopped reacting to anything he said. She was too focused on controlling her emotions, the anger that bubbled up around the ugly the longer his ramble went on. “But I mean on a more substantial topics than, uhm, colours. You know, with a little time and patience, she could even be…” However, the thing with caged creatures was that they grew angry. The longer they fought, the longer they stayed caged, the angrier they became.

And, eventually, the cage would break.

“Steve” she interrupted, slamming her hands onto the car frame “Can you shut up!?” Her head turned towards him, eyes glaring. “Just shut up for a god damn minute.” Steve, ever the rehabbed mean girl, bristled immediately at her tone and sat up straight.

“What are you getting all pissed for!?”

“I’m not getting ‘all pissed’!” He got off the table, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, obviously you are.” He snapped back, a hand gesturing towards her. “I mean, what-what’s wrong, what pissed in your breakfast?” The two were unaware that they’d drawn the attention of the other mechanics inside the shop, both too busy glaring at each other to see how a row of heads rose from popped hoods and from behind cars. And really? Even if she’d noticed, she was too annoyed to care.

“You know what?” She asked as she took a couple of steps towards him. “You did, Steve.” She stubbed her finger against his chest, something she knew he hated. “You did, because you’re doing it again.” Steve was scowling so hard, his brows almost turned into one.

“What do you mean by that? What am I doing ‘again’?” An unamused sound left her lips as she stared at him.

“Amping up a girl that you’ve met once.” He was always like this, like a child, running towards something that wasn’t certain. “You’ve met her once, Steve, one time for maybe two or three hours. Hours, during which Robin did most of the talking, by the way.” She shook her head. “You’re always like this. You-you’re projecting your hopes and dreams onto them, Steve, and they never meet your expectations. Honestly, at this point I don’t think you’ve really had feelings for any of them, you just talked yourself into having them!” Her scowl matched his, both almost sneering at each other like angry cats. “It’s ridiculous! I mean, take Chelsea.” She would probably feel bad later for using her as an example, but she was already the topic of conversation so it was just easy. “Like, how do you know she’s smart!? She could be the biggest idiot! You’ve met her once and talked to her for maybe five minutes – two of which were spent on deciding that the colour blue is great, apparently!” He opened his mouth, likely do disagree, but she didn’t let him. “Don’t try to tell me that it wasn’t like that, because I was there, Steve! Chelsea barely got a word out until Robin started talking.” The girl was really shy until she got to know someone, at least according to Robin herself. “And yet you’re sitting here, talking like you’ve known her for ages! Like she’s the best girl you’ve ever met! And if you really think she’s ‘the one’, great! I’m happy for you!” That was the thing. There was that pathetic bit of ugliness inside of her, the part that sneered when Steve said he had a date. But the rest of her wanted to be happy for him. She wanted him to be happy, to go on a good date, to finally find love. She wanted that more than anything. “But I don’t think you do, Steve.”

How could he? How could he actually believe that Chelsea could be ‘the one’ simply based on the fact that they would go on a stupid date? Love wasn’t supposed to work like that. It wasn’t supposed to be just…just trying to make do. And, for some reason, the boy who was desperate for love was the only one who’d yet to realise it. “This is not how this thing works, Steve. You can’t just…just go ahead and decide for yourself that ‘with enough work’ someone could become special to you.” People just…became special. If everyone could actually pick who they wanted to love there would be way less heartbreak. Just look at her! She never would’ve picked Tommy out of all the guys she’d known back then. She just started to like him. That was all.

“That’s not real love, Steve. It’s just you, imagining how you’d like this to go. It’s…it’s talking yourself into settling for someone you might not even want.” That was what she suspected, at least. Steve wasn’t blind, she knew that, and he was smarter than most people gave him credit for. Sure, he could be simple and he failed at anything that remotely involved maths and strategic thinking, but he was smart. He could understand more than others thought, and he could understand himself more than he liked to admit. he must have known every time; he must have known that the next date would fail again because Becky, Sarah, Caroline, Jessamine, Nicole, Bridgit, Laura and whoever else he’d taken out weren’t what he was looking for. That he’d once again fooled himself into a delusion of love.

But Steve Harrington was, more than anything, a stubborn bastard.

It was how he was raised. Stubborn perseverance, stubborn survival, stubbornly holding on to something he was about to lose. It made him resilient, but it tended to make him unreasonable at times, just as it did right now. She saw how he set his jaw, how he stared her down.

“So?”

“So?” She repeated, almost shocked. That was all he had to say? So? An unamused chuckle bubbled out of her chest, the ugly riding it like a steed. “So” she started, eyes trained on his “in a week, when you’ve been on your date.” Something in her was begging her to stop, to stop talking right now but she couldn’t. Once you’ve jumped off a cliff, nothing could stop your fall. “Will you come crawling to me again, crying because she isn’t the girl you made her out to be?” Steve’s face fell and her eyes widened in shock. “No, no no no, wait. I-Steve, I didn’t-“ He didn’t let her finish.

“You know what?” Steve was looking straight at her, anger and hurt clear in his voice. “Fuck you.”

He was gone before she got another word out, the door slamming shut behind him.

She was left standing, staring at where he’d just been standing, cursing her own damn mouth. Why didn’t she just shut up? God, how could she say any of that!?

“Fuck!” She kicked the table, pain immediately shooting up her leg. Things fell over, engine parts rolled off and scattered. She tuned towards the god damn car next, half a mind to beat it to pieces with nothing but a wrench, but someone was quicker.

Ian had caught her wrist a mere second after the thought popped up, peeling the wrench from her clenched hand with skilled fingers.

“Gimme that.” Was all he said. He threw the wrench towards Eddie – who fumbled very hard to catch it – and far away from her. Next he stepped aside, nodding towards the door. “Out.” She didn’t move, glaring up at the dark-haired mechanic. Who was he to tell her what to do? But Ian wasn’t having it, offering no reaction to her sharp glare. “Come on, move it.” He said, more emphasis this time and a hand on her shoulder that pushed her onwards and out the door. Maybe she would have fought back, had she not known it would be completely useless. She wasn’t weak, but Ian was really strong.

All of her boys were.

It was still early, barely past noon, so the sun was still going strong; Its beams defying the dark clouds that seemed to have permanently settled above Hawkins. For now, there was no rain. Pretty much only a matter of time, though. The grey sky seemed to be copying her mood perfectly, a visualisation of whatever was brewing inside her head.

Her thoughts were tripping over each other, anger turning to shame turning to dread. And not that tiny, unimportant dread you felt when you encountered a small spider or saw a goose gaze at you from afar. No, this was real dread, the kind that had your heart speed up and hammer against your chest.

But this wasn’t a fight or flight situation.

Ian placed her down onto the tire stack in front of the shop. No one really knew where this thing had come from or who’d put it there, but after days and days of ‘I’ll deal with this later’ they’d sort of accepted it as part of the shop. It was nice, like it belonged right there. Two stacks of four and then two tires, haphazardly thrown up next to the entrance. It gave this whole place a very lived in ambience and it provided them with a chair for when it was needed. Most of the time, she and the boys would use it when they were on their smoke break, arguing over who got to sit and who had to stand.

This time, there was no arguing though.

She just plunked down when he wanted her to, slumping in on herself. Blood was still rushing in her ears from the fight, anger still hot in her veins, while her head was filling more and more with dread. Her words were running through her mind, over and over again; an ouroboros of letters that seemed to endlessly spin and spin without ever tiring.

God, she’d hurt him. She’d hurt Steve.

Of all people, she’d said that shit to him. Was she insane? Fuck, usually she’d beat up anyone who dared to talk to him like that – which made this even worse because Steve likely knew that. He knew that she’d kick the shit out of every little shit stain that came at him like that because that was who she was. Steve wasn’t the only one who was fiercely protective of his people, of her. No, she could do that just as much and yet she’d basically told him he was an annoying, desperate, lonely little bitch.

That fact alone made her nauseous.

She must have made a weird noise, because suddenly a hand was placed on her head; long fingers gently tousling her hair. When she looked up, Ian was looking at her like he usually did. His light blue eyes calm and focused, a fresh cigarette hung between his lips. He tutted softly when he saw tears build in her eyes, his caressing never ceasing as he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket. Silently, he held it out to her.

The thing was old and faded by now, the hemming barely intact and the monogram stitched into it fraying here and there. It was clean and smelled of detergent, almost too strongly.

One of his siblings must’ve helped with the wash again.

“Don’t just stare at it, sweetheart.” She hesitated another moment, before taking it. Folding it carefully, she used it to wipe the tears that were threatening to overflow. It didn’t help much, the tears much quicker than her dabbing hands, but it was better than nothing.

“I’m going to get it dirty.”

“It’s a handkerchief. That’s what they’re made for.” She knew that he knew exactly what she was talking about, but she didn’t push it.

“I fucked up, didn’t I.” Ian, the ever-honest Ian, smiled softly before nodding.

“Yeah.” Her eyes fell shut, a sob nearly making its way past her lips. She tried not to let it, tried to keep it down. It wasn’t her place to cry. She’d been the one who hurt Steve, not the other way around. She didn’t get to cry about that.

Ian, however, was making it hard not to.

“It will be okay, you know?” He said, fingers still in her hair. It should’ve been annoying and patronising, she was older than him after all, and maybe she should have protested the gentle pats and strokes but…she liked it. She’d always liked it and Ian knew that too. So, she ignored the part of her that yelled ‘I’m a grown woman!’ and instead let herself enjoy his easy affection.

“Will it though?” She asked back. “Because I don’t know.” Maybe it would have been, had she not added that stupid last bit. She closed her eyes with a helpless sniffle. “Fuck, I didn’t even mean…Well, I meant a lot of it, because a lot of it is true but I didn’t mean…I basically told him that I mind when he comes to me if he needs it.” Don’t sob. Don’t sob. Don’t sob. It was slowly becoming a mantra, uselessly so. “And that’s not it, that’s never it. It’s-god. It’s Steve. My Steve. Of course he can come to me if he needs to. He can cry about everything, no matter how often he repeats himself, I don’t care.”

“I know.” Ian said, wiping her cheek with the back of his hand. The gesture was extremely brother-y and she felt her throat close up even more. Fuck, did he have to pull out the kind big brother thing every time? It made shit really difficult to suppress. “And he knows that, too. Just like he knows that you weren’t wrong.” Ian blew out some smoke and shrugged. “I like the guy, you know I do, but his desperate quest for love really is something.” It was. Steve and Nancy had broken up five years ago by now, and although Steve was great he hadn’t managed to find someone else to be with. It was always one-time things, maybe some flings but that was pretty much about it. “Who knows? Maybe it was exactly what he needed to hear.”

“…But there’s things one should say and things one shouldn’t. And this-“

“Is sometimes necessary.” Ian ended, flicking his cigarette into the water bucket next to them. “And everything else can be talked about. You know that best, don’t you, sweetheart?” Frowning, she looked up at him, which he acknowledged with a huffed laugh and a finger on her forehead, pressing against the skin directly above her furrowed brows. “What?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ’83.”

“’83…?” She actually had to rack her brain, looking for what he was talking about. The Demogorgon, a lost Will Byers, the beginning of Stancy and the end of-oh. “Oh.” How could she have forgotten? She’d just thought about it the other day, the whole Your-Fault-For-Being-Cheated-On-Affair.

“Right. Oh.” Ian shrugged and used his thumb to flatten the crease between her brows. “If you could forgive him then, he should definitely be able to forgive you now.” Ian smirked, that signature lop-sided smile of his. “Sweetheart, everyone knows that you two will always have each other’s back. And nobody knows it like the two of you do.” One last time, he stroked over her hair before stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Trust that.”

With a deep sigh, she wiped her face one last time and used her fingers to neaten her hair as much as possible. Ian was already stepping towards the door, which she noted with a tired huff.

How typical. Job done; Ian gone. He was never one to linger and that hadn’t changed; likely wouldn’t ever. It was just very him. Give you a talk, help you feel better and then take off into the night, leaving you to your own thoughts. She shook her head with a smile, gazing at his back as he opened the door.

“Thanks, Ian.”

“Always, sweetheart.”

***

The next week passed by slowly.

Turns out, the weatherman was a lying bastard. The rain didn’t ease up, drowning small Hawkins in copious amounts each and every day. All year had been rather dry, at least for Indiana, and now mother nature seemed to be determined to make up for lost time by throwing buckets of rain down onto them each and every day. The fine people of Hawkins got used to it, umbrellas quickly turning into a staple accessory for both young and old.

All the rain didn’t really help lighten her mood.

If anything, it made it much worse. Most of her days were spend moody and brooding, every little task seemingly more inconvenient than ever. Her boys stayed far, keeping their usual jokes and bickering down while she was around. She felt bad. They shouldn’t have to scurry around her, not ever, but she was thankful all the same. It spared her from yelling at anyone simply because they were being annoying for fun. Well, mostly anyone. Eddie and his stumbling got dangerously close to a full-blown freak out once or twice. But he tried, she knew, and she did too.

Her evenings were regretfully empty without Steve or their shared bunch of friends. Not that there was any problem with them, Robin and Max would come over whenever she asked and she knew that. But it wasn’t the same. And she wouldn’t drack Robin into this, more than she likely already was. So, a lot of her nights were spent alone, which was fine for a day or two. She’d finally gotten around to finishing the taxes and cleaned out her office. Both tasks that needed to be done, but rarely held more appeal than going home to watch a movie or phone Steve.

Not now, though.

She started staying late every day, simply so that she wouldn’t have to sit around at home. Cleaning, sorting through trash, refiling her papers – anything that looked only slightly out of place was tackled with focus and determination. Determination to not go home until two in the morning, that is.

To not go home where everything was filled with Steve.

How had she never noticed how much of him was part of her home?

There were his clothes and his toothbrush, surely something that accumulated after too many sleepovers. Understandable. But it was more than just that.

There were his emergency glasses on her coffee table, right next to some magazines he liked. There was the Farrah Fawcett hairspray she definitely never used, his Fabergé shampoo and conditioner and a half empty bottle of his cologne on her shelf. His very own pair of slippers waited by the door and his pj’s hung over the edge of her bedroom chair. On the side table, she’d stashed a book of his – one of those Robin had bought for him. In the kitchen there were the condiments and cereal he liked as well as the powder blue mug he’d crowned as his very favourite.

So much of her home was Steve, had always been Steve.

And now that Steve himself was absent it became more and more evident. It felt like her own home was mocking her, trying to get her to call him and ask for his forgiveness. And she wanted to, she really did, but she didn’t…she didn’t want to impose. She didn’t want to ask too much too early of him. She’d hurt his feelings, so the least she could do was give him space. That was what he had done back then, right? Space was good, everyone needed space sometimes. Especially when someone was angry it was better to back off and let them breathe until they were ready to just…talk. Or so she hoped.

But the longer it took, the more miserable she felt.

At first, she just had trouble sleeping. That was to be expected, she tended to turn into an insomniac whenever things got just the slightest bit stressful, but it didn’t make it much nicer. Even when she got home late after a taxing day at work, she’d find herself lying in bed with her eyes forcefully shut in hopes of getting any amount of sleep. Some nights it worked, the continuous darkness finally dragging her down into a fitful slumber, but often she’d give up an hour in. She’d get up and wander into the living room, Tut hot on her heels, to take post by the window and stare outside. The cat would curl up in her lap, soon drifting off into his own feline dreams of mice and cheese with soft snores and she would just sit there, petting him gently as she stared at the moon.

The moon could be excellent company for the tired and sleepless.

During the day, when the moon was nowhere to be seen, she’d eat. She’d eat so much, even Riley started to respect the copious amounts she could stomach. Snacks, meals, anything. It was like throwing food into a deep dark well without ever being able to fill it up. It was just another bad habit, her body seemingly triggered into famine-mode whenever she was under stress, but she couldn’t help it. If she didn’t eat, her mood would only get worse and worse which was clearly not ideal. So, she ate, stuffing herself with bread, cereal and snacks whenever given the chance to.

Be it at work or at home, every ring of the phone had her jump. She’d tackle Billy aside before he could reach the phone, yell at Riley to let her answer it just on the off chance that it could be Steve. Every time it wasn’t him, however, she felt her shoulders slump. Disappointment grew heavy in her stomach, dragging down any prior excitement. She had quite the hard time keeping it out of her voice when it was customers or someone equally as important.

But, from what she’d heard, she wasn’t the only one.

Robin had visited her at work a few days in, taking in her mopey form with a groan.

“You both are pathetic.” She’d said, arms crossed and fingers drumming against the fabric of her jacket.

“What?”

“You and Steve.” To that, she could only sigh because honestly? They probably were.

“I know.”

“Do you?” Robin had asked, nodding towards the phone. “Then do you know that you’re both staring wistfully at the phone, too? Hell, if you’re sorry just call him and tell him that!”

“I am sorry. And I want to call him.” She’d told the other girl while brushing some stains out of the steering wheel of Joyce’ car. “But I…well. He might need more time. You know. I don’t want to force myself on him. In case he’s still angry.”

“I don’t think he’s been angry since day two!”

“You don’t know that.” Robin had let out a throaty, frustrated noise at that, slumping back into the chair.

“I take it back, please go back to being disgustingly close. Anything is better than this!” She’d yelled, ruffing up her hair in frustration.

Now, it was Saturday and she had a hard time finding any reason to stay at work any longer.

She’d cleaned better than ever - even sorted their tools and various knick knacks – and the shop was in pristine condition by now. Well, as pristine as a repair shop could ever be. There would always be a bit of dirt involved. So, what should she do to waste time with? Polish all their tools? Because, sure, that would take a lot of time, but maybe that was taking things a bit far. The boys would likely flip their shits when they’d walk in one morning, only to find every tool pristine and sparkling. They’d already been nagging her relentless cleaning, saying that they felt bad for making a mess of what she’d just so ‘lovingly’ tidied.

So, no. No polished wrenches.

For now.

If the silence between Steve and her lasted much longer, she couldn’t guarantee for anything anymore. Another day or two, fine, but the minute it crossed the two weeks mark she would be sitting right there, on the floor with a towel and a bunch of polishing cream and wipe away until she could see her own reflection in whatever hammer she was holding.

With a sigh, she wandered over to the window.

Outside, one of the ‘last’ promised downpours was going strong; thick drops of rain pitter pattering onto the gravelly car park out front. One could really believe they were in Mumbai and not Indiana, because this was starting to feel like a monsoon. Which, thinking about it, was probably something everyone who actually lived in Mumbai laughed about. Indiana was fairly wet compared to other states, but probably not yet monsoon wet.

Maybe she was being a tiny bit dramatic. But she hated rain, so, so much.

“Why did you choose to stay in this damn state again?” She huffed, looking out the window to check the puddles growing bigger and bigger. The shop phone rang and she, too preoccupied with intense hate, walked over while muttering on. “Should’ve moved to fucking Arizona when you had the chance.” Sighing, she picked up immediately rattling down the usual greeting. “…repair shop, what can I do for you on this lovely evening?”

“Hey.” Her breath hitched, heart stuttering for a second.

“Steve…?” It was spoken quietly, more air than wort. She could hear the disbelieve in her own voice and she didn’t like it one bit.

“…yeah. It’s me.” Steve cleared his throat. “I was- I tried calling your house but you didn’t pick up, so I figured you’d still be working and I just thought that maybe we-“

“I’m sorry.” Fuck. It had just come out; she didn’t want to jump him like that! God, couldn’t she be normal for once? No, she literally slapped the apology across his face, nice. Stupid, so stupid. She didn’t even know why he was calling; he could literally be about to tell her to go die in a ditch or something. But hey, sure, why not yell another sorry right across town? Idiot.

Steve was silent for an excruciatingly long moment.

She could almost hear the time pass by, like sand trickling through the thin waist of an hourglass. A soft hissing noise that made the small hairs on her arms stand up. But finally, he let out a deep breath.

“I know.” She felt herself deflate like a popped balloon; a weeks’ worth of tension draining right out of her with two simple words. “I know you are; I could tell the moment you realised what you’d said.” Something on the other end shifted, a soft swish that broke through the slight static. “And I’m sorry too.”

“What?” Her brows dipped. “What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything.”

“I could’ve called you earlier.” She snorted.

“You’re fine, Harrington.” What kind of bullshit, really... As if that was something to be sorry for. “You’ve got about five months and three weeks left to be angry. Well, that and a black eye. After that, I would’ve come for you – no matter what.” Steve huffed a weak laugh on the other end.

“You’ve been thinking about that time too, huh?” He sighed. “I was a dick.”

“You were. But you were sixteen, all sixteen-year-olds are dicks.” Smiling, she leaned against the wall, her fingers winding into the spiral cord. “I was a bitch and I’m twenty-three, so what’s my excuse?”

“You weren’t.”

“Sure was, Harrington. And I really am sorry.” She eyed her feet, the tip of her shoe painting invisible lines against the floor. “You can always come to me. Cry however much you want, I don’t give a shit. If necessary, I’ll wipe your Nancy-tears until we’re eighty-seven.” Steve snorted; the noise so familiar that her heart fluttered.

“If I’m still crying about Nancy at eighty-seven, you have my permission to shoot me.” She could feel her lips curl up in a stupidly happy smile. God, she’d missed him. It had been little over a week and she’d missed him so much that talking to him now turned her giddy. “Why are you still at work? It’s late.” Automatically, her eyes went to her watch and sure enough. It was almost eleven.

“Uh…Working?”

“You were hiding at work, weren’t you?”

“…Maybe?”

“Definitely.” Steve sighed and she heard something shingle. “I’ll come pick you up.”

“What!? No, Steve, it’s late and a quasi-monsoon is raging outside. Stay home, I’ll be fine.”

“All the more reason to pick you up. You’re on your bike, right?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, nope. I’m coming.”

“Steve-”

“I missed you.” Her mouth snapped shut, protest dying down immediately. “This week was fucking long and I’d like to pick up my best friend for food because I missed her. So, can said best friend please stop objecting?” Her heart did a stupid jumpy thing, thumping against her chest almost painfully. She cleared her throat to get rid of the tight feeling.

“Uhm…yeah. Okay, yeah, sure. I’ll wait.”

“Great. Be there in ten minutes.” He was about to hang up, but she stopped him.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you too.” Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the phone. “See you soon.”

“See you, sweet girl.”

***

The minute she sat in the passenger seat of Steve’s BMW, she wanted to cry.

It was only a moment, a small second of emotion rolling over her, but it was strong enough to have her stifle a gasp. Steve really had only needed ten minutes to come and pick her up, barely enough time to visit the loo and get her bag, and even just seeing the burgundy car roll up her shops car park nearly turned her emotional.

Her hand was trembling a tiny bit when she pulled the doorhandle, a motion that stopped the moment she saw Steve. The boy looked like he always did – it had only been a week or so, but it had felt so long – with his brown floppy hair and those stupid polo shirts that were just so distinctly him. His hair was a bit messier than usual, though that could have been the weathers’ fault. What wasn’t though, were the black lines underneath his eyes. He had massive dark circles, something that was likely mirrored on her face. Nights had been short that week, it seems. For both of them.

Neither of them said anything as she got in, both just sending each other silly smiles and a soft bump of their shoulders.

It was a relaxed silence, both knowing that there were things that needed to be addressed but also knowing that it could wait for a moment. Right then, both just wanted to ease back into their easy routine, find footing in a place that had felt unsure for the last couple of days.

The car itself smelled like Steve – lavender, sandalwood, and boy. It was a warm, comforting scent that had her want to curl up and do nothing for at least another week. Just drink up a weeks’ worth of peace, quiet and Steve. Rain was still thrumming rhythmically against the windshield, now a little less annoying than before, as Steve put the car into gear and drove off. He didn’t offer any information on where they were headed and she didn’t ask.

She didn’t need to.

Fleetwood Mac trickled out of the radio, filling the silence with soft music. The streets were mostly empty at this time of night, the only thing slowing their journey being the many traffic lights. The windows of Hawkins inhabitants were dark, only a few TV screens flickering in the most interesting colours.

Steve’s finger was tapping against the steering wheel, led by the rhythm of the blinking indicator. When he noticed her watching him, he raised his brows in question, to which she just smiled and shook her head. Steve smiled back and she turned to look out the blurry window. Everything looked the same outside, the same old Hawkins, but the blurred lines made it seem completely different. She had to concentrate to see, concentrate to recognise the places she grew up around. It felt odd yet normal, like maybe she’d done this before.

She probably had.  

The sound of the handbrake pulled her out of her reverie.

Steve had parked at Rosemary’s Diner, of course in his favourite spot. Way back, when they first started getting there with a car, Steve had chosen the spot because it was where everyone could see his car easily. He’d been a show off, that Harrington. Of course, the interest in that waned rather quickly. She was sure that by now, he was just used to parking right there. Steve pulled the keys from the ignition with more flourish than usual and got out of the car, a movement not unnoticed by her.

The asphalt resembled black glass as the lights of traffic and people were glistening both around and beneath them; their shine caught in the water on the worn asphalt. Flashes of red and yellow, stark and soft white reflected off the grey stone. With every drop, the reflections moved, lights dancing beneath her trainers with every step. Part of her wanted to stop and stare, just take in the sights of the car park that were so distinctly different.

Every light brought the town some resemblance of beauty, something fascinating to look at in a place that so rarely changed. Just how little it needed to make something look…new. Beautiful, even.

It was fascinating, wasn’t it?

This was the very same place it had always been, just drenched in rain. That’s it. And yet it helped her appreciate the town she was born and raised in in a completely different way. She could see more than just cracks in the ground, more than just roads worn down by frequent use of people who’d never left this place for more than a day.

All it took was some water.

Were all changes this simple, at least in their essence? Was a change really nothing more than just this, water haphazardly spilled over a street? Everyone knew that changes felt heavy, at least most of the time. They filled people with fear, invoking anxiety about whatever the future may hold. People panicked and fought against them, sometimes so hard they ruined themselves - and yet it was just this? Just rain that fell and suddenly everything was a bit different?

Even this one, the rain, had felt incredibly heavy to her. She’d been so moody, so put off by heavens everlasting tears and now look at what it gave her.

Beauty.

Beauty in the mundane.

Maybe all changes were like that. Maybe they just felt heavy, felt stifling and unsafe. Perhaps changes just seemed large, but in reality they weren’t. Change could have just been this, a quiet obstruction that caused discomfort but never enough to actually matter. It blurred the lines for a moment and then it was already over and none of it mattered anymore. It was just feelings, just something clouded in instincts.

Maybe change was like that, quiet and quick. Different, yet the same. Maybe it was all just…water on a road.

Just that.

The inside of Rosemarys Diner was brightly lit, almost blindingly so. She blinked a couple of times as they entered, forcing her eyes to readjust quickly. Not that she really needed to see where she was going to find her way in here. This Diner never changed.

It felt strangely timeless, at least most days. The checkered floor tiles Steve was strolling down, well-worn and cracked in all the same places. Burgundy leather seats, cracked and ripped enough to hiss familiarly whenever someone sank into them. Waitresses, clad in a pale-yellow uniform, complete with white aprons and shoes.

Everything stayed the same.

But today, it felt strangely different as well.

As she and Steve sank down in their favourite booth, second to last by the window, she saw how far the big crack on his seat had progressed all of a sudden. It used to be short, barely reaching her line of sight, and now it was nearly touching the top of the backrest. She could see how the line right beneath her foot had become more visible, the sharp cracked lines worn down by shoes and dirt over the years.

It was the same diner, and yet it felt so, so different.

Doreen came up to their table, smiling brightly as always, her braids pulled up into a ponytail at the back of her head. She looked very much like herself, the very same waitress that had been here when they first entered the diner all those years ago. For the first time, however, she could see the lines her face had gained over the last ten years. Her face had changed bit by bit, so subtly that it went unnoticed by everyone else but she could see it so, so clearly. Doreen had aged, the last chubbiness of youth had left her face. She’d grown out of her lipstick and bubble-gum phase, no longer the bratty teen that used to work here to earn money for college.

No, Doreen had become an adult somewhere over the last years.

Steve ordered their usual, leaning back in his seat with a big sigh. Her eyes wandered towards the window, the outside too dark to see anything; Especially with the bright lights of the Diner above her. Instead, she looked at her own tired face. She’d looked at herself in that very window hundreds of times before, used it to apply lipstick and mascara as well as to wipe away tear streaks and sauce. This very window had watched her grow up, and right then it felt as if she was looking at a memory. Like her own eleven year old self was staring back at her, wearing a scruffy shirt and jeans combo, roughed up from spending the day in the forest with Steve.

“What are you staring at yourself for?” The boy asked, leaning on the table while eyeing the counter.

She took one more look at herself, todays one that was still in her ugly grey overall, stained by dirt and oil. Her hair was messy after a day’s work and her eyes were surrounded by dark circles that had indicated her week hadn’t been going well.

“You could have told me that I look like crap.” She said, turning to Steve. The boys’ brows furrowed as he turned towards her, taking her in with one long look.

“You look like you always do.” Her lips curled up at his words, something that had him scowl a bit harder.

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” With a smile, she took in the boy sitting in front of her; the same honey eyed boy that she’d known all her life.

He was sitting right there, his seat positioned so that he could keep an eye on the whole room. She could remember the brunette boy he’d been all those years ago, explaining to her that he liked to watch what people were doing. He’d been all gangly limbs and thin joints then, a resilient but weak boy whose parents were cold and neglectful. People didn’t care much for him, the boy too short and dorky to be cool just yet.

Much like now, the Steve of ’78 didn’t have a lot of people that loved him. But those who did, those who saw who he was, were everything he needed. He’d battle their bullies without batting an eye, despite surely losing the fight. The Steve of ’78 was already just as protective as the Steve of ’89, fearlessly charging ahead whenever he deemed it necessary. The Steve that had fought Russians and the supernatural, swinging that bat of his like a battle axe to protect a gaggle of kids, was already there.

He just needed to grow into him.

On first glance, there was little of the young boy left in the Steve of ‘89. The gangly arms and legs were gone, now turned into the limbs of a grown man. He was no longer thin and scruffy, years of basketball and fights helping him to become more defined. She was no longer a head taller than him, no longer needing to look down at him. His shorts had been exchanged for jeans; his dirty trainers exchanged for neat white sneakers.

But if she looked closely, he was still very much the same. The same warm brown eyes, the same expressive eyebrows, the same floppy hair. He still had that scar from when broke his arm while climbing the tree in her father’s backyard, silver with age now. His laugh was still the same, he still narrowed his eyes with every grin and he still gesticulated a lot when he was upset or excited.

He was still very much her Steve.

“You’re being weird. Are you okay?” He asked, plucking the pickles off his burger,and exchanging them for one of her tomatoes with just two fingers.

“I’m great, Steve.” He eyed her like a hawk, worry pulling at his features.

“Are you sure? Is there something you need to say?” She shook her head, grabbing a tissue to wipe some sauce off his fingers.

“I’m fine. I promise I’ll talk when I have something to say, but right now I’m perfect.” Steve looked at her for another moment, but nodded. He didn’t really believe her, she knew, but he chose to give her room to breathe. Just like he’d always done. “Do you need to say something before we eat, though?”

“Yeah.” He said, fiddling with her hand. It was something he used to do a lot when they were younger, fiddling with her hand when he was nervous. She didn’t realise he’d kept that habit even today. “You were right.” A frown pulled at her features.

“About what?”

“About Chelsea and I not being...it, I guess.” Steve sighed, leaning back in his seat while holding on to her hand. “I went on that date and I hated it.” He focused on their hands; eyes hidden slightly behind a strand of hair. “She’s nice and all, but she barely talked. I know she’s shy, Robin told me, but god. Maybe I’m not patient enough for that.”

“I’m sorry.” She was. Despite everything, despite all the things she’d said she actually wanted him to be happy. She really really did. If there was just one person that deserved to be loved, it was him.

“It’s okay.” It looked like he meant it. “Anyway, you were right with that…and pretty much everything else you said. I do amp them up, I do, uh…project or whatever. I know I do.” His hand tightened around hers, a pressure she returned comfortingly. “It’s stupid. But I just…” He broke off as she interlocked her fingers with his.

“I know.” Steve’s head tipped back, eyes closing as he smiled. He looked exhausted doing that. Once more, she squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“Of course you do.”

With that, they went about their food. She started with the fries, Steve with his burger before switching. The burger was the same as always, delicious, and exactly the way she liked it. The fries were perfectly crisp and hot, the mayonnaise clinging to them deliciously. While they ate, they talked about their weeks, sharing whatever they felt the other should know. Turns out, it wasn’t much for either of them. Robin hadn’t been wrong in saying that the two of them spend most their time close to a phone, waiting for a sign that told them it was okay to call the other.

When she asked Steve why today had been the day, he’d just shrugged.

“I missed you and I was fed up with waiting.”

Simple as that, it seems.

Steve threw some cash on the table after their dinner and the two of them left. Neither knew where exactly they were headed, but they’d find out. They always did, didn’t they? Outside, the rain was still going strong, if not even stronger than before. Thick, cold drops were splashing down, filling the air with blur and noise. Had she compared the rain earlier with a monsoon, would this probably be the end of the world.

Water stood high on the road, the already overburdened gutters finally giving in. From afar, it looked more like a shallow stream than a street, water moving along the length of it without mercy. Wind was shaking leaves and trees, enough to look scary but likely not to actually to do any harm. Or so she hoped. Steve’s car was parked regrettably far away, at least for these weather conditions, and the two of them stood under the awning before the diner, hesitating.

“Shit.” Steve pushed back his hair. “It’s not going to stop soon, is it?” 

“The weatherman said it would.”

“It won’t ever stop then.” He groaned. “That guy is always wrong.” She chuckled. It was true, the weatherman had terrible luck with his forecasts for quite some time now and it was getting harder and harder to trust him. Steve grabbed her hand. “Okay, we’re gonna run for it. Ready?”

“Always.” He grinned at her and then they were jogging along, rushing towards the burgundy swimming out there in the giant puddle that had been the car park.

She shrieked when water got into her shoes, the soft fabric hungrily drinking up the cold wet fluid and becoming heavier with each step. The hems of her overall and Steve’s jeans didn’t fare any better, water mercilessly soaking them the moment they came in contact. Still falling, the rain was cold where it hit them; icy splatters of water bursting against their skin and dousing them within just a few steps. Goosebumps rose on both their arms, only one of the many indicators of how cold it actually was.

Honestly, they could have wandered over to the car slowly and nothing would have changed. By the time they reached Steve’s car, they were soaked to the bone. Her thick overall was heavy with rain and started to cling and rub against her skin uncomfortably. Steve’s shirt looked a few shades darker than before and both of them had to squint to keep rain from running into their eyes.

“Shit, keys! Keys!” Steve hissed when they reached the back of his car. Keeping one hand in hers, he started to grapple for the car keys in his jeans. As always, they caught on the fabric and he struggled to get them out any further. The jeans being as wet as they were didn’t help; soaked jeans fabric suddenly no longer smooth to the touch. “Shit, why didn’t we think of that!?”

“It’s your car!” She yelled back, giggling at his glare as cold rain running down her face. It clung to her lips and lashes no matter how often she wiped her face. The boy kept struggling, even dropping his wallet in his fight to loosen the key ring from a snaggy thread. She heard him curse as she dove down, snagging the poor wet thing from its nightmarish bath.

“Shit, those damn tight ass jeans.” He cursed and she laughed, a surprised sound that he’d later admit to secretly really liking. A car passed by them, the headlights hitting them for just a moment. A couple of seconds of light, barely even enough time to blink, and her laughter died down. It had just been a moment, a tiny moment that shouldn’t matter.

And yet that moment was enough.

When she saw Steve standing there, dripping with rain and doused in the light of a stranger’s headlights, her breath hitched. Her shoulders slumped as she took him in, the boy she’d known all her life, with rain drops dripping down his chin and nose and a fierce frown set on his face. Her thoughts slowed, everything that wasn’t him shifting to the back for now. Nothing mattered anymore, be it rain or wet clothes or the cold. Not even the water running into her eyes.

Because right there, hair plastered to his head by the rain, struggling for his damn keys while holding onto her hand she noticed something she should’ve known before. Or maybe she did. Maybe she did know and she just never realised it, never understood what it meant.

Honestly, it wasn’t important. the order of why and when and how didn’t matter. Nothing did.

Nothing but him.

Because Steve was beautiful.

Not handsome, not pretty. Beautiful. When the light reflected off of him, even with his hair plastered against his forehead, he looked beautiful. Perfect, even. His eyes were not merely honeyed, no, they were radiant. They were warm and brilliant, like embers of a long summers’ campfire; comforting like hot chocolate on a cold winters’ night. Nothing, not even his current scowl, could take that away from him.

Steve was beautiful.

And not because he was handsome either. Which he was, of course. Those eyes, the hair, the nose and everything else about him looked good. She’s always known that, ever since they were just two young teens in a world too big and too small at the same time, laden with responsibilities they shouldn’t have had. She knew he was handsome, but it wasn’t just that.

No, Steve wasn’t beautiful because of his face.

He was beautiful because he was Steve.

He was Steve, with all his boyish charm and easy conversations; his hero complex and the bravery to match it. The Steve that had gone above and beyond for a tween boy he barely knew because it was the right thing to do; who greeted the same kid with specialised, dorky handshakes no matter how dumb it looked.

It was her Steve, with all of his big heart and empty home.

Her Steve. The boy she’d met when he was only just born, still in his mother’s arms. He was the beautiful boy who climbed trees with her; who tried to beat up every single of her bullies no matter how tall or old they were. Her beautiful boy, who’d watch movies with her despite saying he didn’t want to; who never once judged her fear of driving. He was the boy who understood her when even she herself didn’t. He came running in the middle of the night, simply because she called. Because he knew she needed him there.

He was the very boy that had been hurt and scarred by so many and survived. He’d held onto love when he was abandoned, onto positivity when he was hurt and scarred. He’d fought, kicking and screaming, with foolish determination against those who wanted to take those things from him. He was the very boy who always stood in the front lines of every battle, because he’d rather get hurt than watch his people suffer.

The boy who only cried when there was no one to hear him, who acted strong when he wasn’t.

He was just Steve.

So how could he not be beautiful?

“Jesus, finally!” Steve sighed, holding up the keys for her to see and nodding towards the car. “Move it, come on!” He let go of her hand, turning towards the car but she grabbed his wrist, keeping him in place. Dark brows dipped as he turned back towards her, features contorted in surprised worry. “What, what is it?”

“I love you.”

The keys fell from his hands, hitting the ground with a subdued splash. This time no one was diving for them, the object forgotten the second it was let go of. Wind whipped through their wet hair, cold and merciless, but neither of them did anything but stare. Steve’s eyes were opened wide, shoulders slack as he stared at her like he was waiting for something more. Something, she didn’t know how to give him.

“What?” He asked, voice barely audible over the rain. She didn’t need to hear him, though, because she knew. She knew, because it was him. Because this was who they were. Open, Withdrawn, Disbelieving and yet hopeful, this was all them.

“I love you.” Moving slowly, she interlocked their fingers. Steve’s eyes flicked towards their hands and back to her face, something between shock and confusion clouding his eyes. Like he didn’t understand what was going on, what she was saying or why this was happening right then. But there, in the car park of their very favourite diner, she chose to wait. Of course she could’ve elaborated, she could’ve explained and rushed him on. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. No, she waited for him, for him to catch up with what she was saying.

Just as he’d been waiting for her.

When she looked back at everything right then, it was so, so clear. All he’d been doing was waiting. He’d waited for everyone and everything - for his parents and the world to accept him, for someone to love, for anyone to see him for who he was.

Steve Harrington had spent all his life waiting for everyone else.

So now it was his turn. His turn to take his time, the worlds turn to wait.

“Why?”

Why.

She huffed a tiny laugh, shaking her head at his disbelieve. 

How should she tell him? Tell him that his ‘why’ was all they’d seen, all they’d done and all they’d become over the years? Tell him that ‘why’ was everything and nothing. It was Steve and it was her, formless yet there. It was woven deep into the reality she called home. How did one turn all that was, is, could and would be into a simple answer the other could understand?

She didn’t know. But she was determined to try.

“Because it’s you.”

His hand was trembling in hers, whether that was because of the cold or the things she was saying she didn’t know. Maybe it was a bit of both. She covered his hands with hers, shielding it from everything she possibly could for just a moment. “Because this is who you are and this is who I am.” It was that simple. Her knuckles ran over his cheek as she smiled and his breath stuttered. “I love you because you’re you, Steve Harrington.”

It was easy to pin point the exact moment Steve was hit by realisation. His face spoke more words than any mouth before, at least to her.

The car was cold against her back as Steve pressed her against it, but she didn’t even care. All that mattered was Steve and everything he was, surrounding her in a way she never wanted to miss again. The boy himself was warm against her front, his lips on hers with that same sense of familiarity she’d felt before. Warm fingers were curling around her wrist while hers were clinging to the wet fabric of his shirt.

Once again, kissing Steve was like coming home. Warm and familiar, loving and beloved. Like she’d been gone for many many years, out exploring the world, before finally stepping over the treshhold to her own space. The one space where she could just exist without expectations, live without being questioned. Where her being her was more than enough.

But maybe that wasn’t home at all.

Maybe that was just Steve.

It made sense, a whole lot of sense. Hadn’t she just realised how much of her home was Steve? How much of him was there even when he himself was not? Maybe the feeling she’d come to know as ‘home’ was Steve, had always been Steve. Maybe it would always be Steve. Because, if that was it, if that was what home felt like, she never wanted to leave ever again.

The kiss lasted for a tiny eternity, much too long for where they were and how it had come be, yet far too short all the same. Neither truly wanted to let go of the other, the opposite seeming much more inviting. She would have loved to stay there, right there in the pouring rain, and get lost in Steve and Steve alone.

But later would do just as fine.

Steve was the one who broke it first, her boy drawing back to look at her with kiss bitten lips and wide eyes. Eyes, that might have been teary, she wasn’t all too sure; Not with the rain clinging to his lashes and cheeks. Holding eye contact, she smiled up at him; gauging his reaction. And who knows, maybe that was it. Perhaps her stare was too much, too intense for her fractured boy. For all one knew, it could have been the realisation that the thing he had been looking for, what he’d been searching for all these years, had been right there, right next to him all along.

Whatever it was, it was too much.

Steve’s face crumpled, the boy buckling into her. Cooing softly, she pulled him close, letting him bury his face against her neck. With a smile, she looped her arms around his back, nose pressed to his temple. Her boy was trembling with as she breathed him in, fingers digging into her side. She basked in the warm smell of Steve, everywhere now that they were so close, and ran her fingers slowly up and down his shaking shoulders.

“It’s okay.” She whispered into his ear, nose caressing the side of his face. “I’m here. I love you. I’m here, it’s okay. Take your time.” Her whispers were nothing coherent, really. Hushed affirmations; soft encouraging for her crying boy. Just something to ground him, to help him keep breathing as he sobbed silently. Shaky puffs of breath hot ghosted her neck as he kept breathing.

It took a moment for him to regain his composure, his breathing evening out more and more; each exhale allowing more frustration, more overwhelm, more regret, simply more of any emotion he currently felt to leave his body. Behind it left a tired boy with red rimmed eyes, that drew back slowly to look at her once more.

Her hands found his cheeks, cradling his face in her hands as she smiled up at him. The touch seemed to soften him completely, her boy melting into her hold more and more with every brush of her thumb. His eyes were shimmering with emotion, all hope and fear and love, which caused her own vision to become blurry.

“I love you.”

Gentle fingers were brushing up her arms; caressing her cold skin so softly that her eyes fell shut. Steve didn’t stop, his hands moving onwards without ceasing.

“Why?” Eyes fluttering back open, she gazed at him with a smile that held just the slightest bit of tease. Steve huffed a shaky laugh and rolled his eyes, a reaction so familiar and typical that she had to stifle a giggle. Instead, she used her finger tips to comb a wet strand of hair out of his forehead, his eyes fluttering like they always did.

“Because this is who we are.” Tears trickled down her cheeks as she nodded along, his face still cradled in her hands. Steve was now circling her wrists, fingers directly over her pulsepoint and eyes trained on her

“Yeah.” Later, he would tell her how brilliant, how radiant her smile had been right then. How much of that moment was based just on that, at least to him. “This is who we are.”

Even later, neither Steve nor her would be able to tell you who kissed the other first. Maybe it had been a decision they’d both made at the same time or perhaps they knew each other well enough to know what the other would do. Neither of them could tell, neither of them cared.

One thing she did know, however, was that she would never hate the rain again. She couldn’t, not after this. Sure, it was a hassle and sure it was grey and moody just as it always had been. Except now, it was theirs.

From that day on, rain would turn into a fond memory for the two of them, something they’d remember even many years later. Like everything they’d seen over the years; like the tree’s they’d climbed and the diner they frequented; like burgundy BMW’s and large elevators, like movies and demogorgons, like arguments and laughter, desperation and comfort, like love and loss…It would remain forever, changing them just as quietly as water on a late night’s road.

On that day, right in front of Rosemary’s diner, the smell of rain was woven into the fabric that made up their story. The feeling of rain drops became part of what made them Steve and her.

Rain became part of everything they would ever be.

Because this was exactly who they were.

[demonsanddemogorgons]

Sunny in Philadelphia - A Joseph Quinn Story (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2 - The Wait

The two of you headed up to the show floor to have a look around, but you were pretty distracted by the thought of what was hiding in your pocket.

"We've walked past like 5 tables that had Stranger Things stuff and you haven't even noticed. Girl, just text him," Rachel said, stopping you in the walkway.

"And look desperate? No way."

"He's Joseph fucking Quinn. And he pursued you. What the hell are you waiting for?"

"Well, if it's a prank I don't know if I want to know. I'm afraid."

"You're being ridiculous, Mack. It's NOT a prank. You saw the lady from the photo booth who handed it to you. She was on official business for sure," she replied with a giggle at her own joke.

"Well, you know he's busy as hell today. He has to fit 3 days' worth of people in because he couldn't be here the whole weekend. Who knows if he will even respond today," you justified, still scared of the outcome.

"Ok, so? He can text you back tomorrow if he's busy today. Besides, he's a man. He already showed interest in you. I bet he's watching his phone like a hawk every chance he gets to look at it. He WILL text back, I know it. DO IT."

You sighed, knowing she wasn't going to drop it at this point. You walked over to a side wall of the show room that was less crowded and pulled out the note and your phone. You glanced around to make sure no one was looking and began adding the number to your contacts. Just to be safe and preserve his anonymity from anyone who may catch a glimpse at your phone screen, you put it under J with a bat and guitar emoji. You shoved the note back in your pocket and opened your messages app. A small sigh snuck its way out of your lungs, your body's attempt to relieve some of your anxiety. Here it goes.

Hey, Joe. It's the girl in the white dress.

Ugh, that sounded stupid. Backspace. After thinking and typing and backspacing and thinking and typing and backspacing, you eventually settled on a text, and tried to make yourself seem confident. After all, he went to the effort to have someone track you down.

Hey, it's the "absolutely beautiful" blonde with black glasses and white dress. You're not so bad yourself.

You smiled to yourself as you hit send. Rachel squealed at your sudden demonstration of confidence and put her hands on your shoulders.

"And now we wait. Let's go grab some lunch before the Q&A panel," she said, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the door. Anyone who didn't know you may have thought the two of you were a lesbian couple, but you both liked it that way. Kept people on their toes.

You and Rachel left the convention center and walked a block up the street to the Hard Rock Café. You ordered and waited for the food to come. Seconds felt like hours and you found yourself playing with your own fingers in anxiousness.

"Hey, it's been like a half an hour. Give it some time," she tried to encourage you.

"I know. It's just now I'm going to be worried waiting for it all day, or possibly longer," you replied as the waitress came to the table with your food. You tried to distract yourself with your salad and the loud music in the restaurant but it didn't really work. Every time your phone would vibrate you would jump and grab it only to see a Facebook notification or a message from your other friend, who sent you a collection of Tik Tok videos every day. You wanted so badly to tell her to lay off for the day so you won't have a stroke, but you knew you couldn't explain. Not yet anyway.

"Like you said, he's really busy today. It will happen."

You were so thankful in that moment that she was here with you instead of you coming to the convention alone. You would be an absolute mess right now if you were by yourself. You finished your food, paid, and headed back to the convention center. You got in line for the panel and it looked like people had already been waiting there for hours to get a good seat. You didn't really care where you sat, you were just glad to be there. You never really traveled far from home other than for family vacations. You lived 4 hours from Philly, and the furthest you had ever traveled by yourself was the 2-hour drive to Pittsburgh. This type of thing wasn't something you did often so you were glad to get what you could.

The doors to the panel hall opened and people flooded inside. When you finally got a seat, it was way off to the left away from the stage, but not everyone got seats so you considered yourself fortunate. After everyone was seated, the announcer came out and introduced Joseph Quinn and Grace Van Dien. The two of them walked on stage and sat on the couch, Joe on the right and Grace on the left. The questions started from the announcer and you listened intently, admiring Joe from afar. The questions and answers started drowning out, and all of your focus was on Joe, just looking at him – his shaggy curly hair he was growing out to film the new Gladiator movie, his black t-shirt and leather jacket, his brown eyes that you could still manage to see from that far away. JEEZUMS. This man wanted you? YOU? You once again felt small all of a sudden and unconfident.

There's no way. Me? Out of all these people here? Yeah right. You thought to yourself, psyching yourself out again that it could have possibly been a prank. It was too good to be true. But that's when something happened. You were staring at Joe, your expression a bit depressed as these questioning thoughts were running through your head, when he caught a glimpse at you through the crowd. At first you weren't sure he as looking at you or someone else, but his eyes locked with yours for what felt like minutes but was more like seconds. You continued to look at him, still in disbelief that he was in fact looking at you. You were proven wrong when he let a small smirk show on his lips and winked. Just then, you KNEW he was looking at you, from all the way across the room. HOW?! How did he find you in this huge crowd? You blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling back and biting your bottom lip a little. You saw his smile grow at the sight.

A question from the announcer pulled his attention away from you, and you exhaled, realizing that you weren't breathing that whole time. You turned to face Rachel who was already looking at you with wide eyes and a smile. You didn't even have to ask. You knew she had seen that whole silent interaction.

"Yeah, he's DEFINITELY going to text you," she whispered in your ear, earning a smile and rosy cheeks from you. The rest of the panel went by in a blur. You were too busy thinking about what just happened to pay much attention. The announcer finished up and dismissed Joe and Grace. As Joe was walking off stage, you saw him pulling his phone out of his pocket just before he disappeared behind the curtain.

"Oh my God, he's checking his phone!" you whisper-shouted to Rachel. She smirked in response.

"Told you."

Story Master List

[superstar-ve]

it’s 1 am and i can’t sleep so let me tell y’all abt my big back adventures at my granite a few weeks ago..

so in the morning (like 9 in the morning) i met up with my friends and we went to starbucks and i got a grande carmel frapp (basically fucking liquid cake 😭) and we walked to school for the bus .

i threw it out before i finished it because i started feeling guilty but i basically drank the whole thing 🐷

we got to disney and i didn’t have anything until around 2 my friend bought me a coke slushie (why didn’t i just at have water) ((also he owed me money it’s not like i’m using him)) and i drank every last drop because i have no self-control.

we had lunch at 5 pm at the pizza place in downtown disney and it’s was really good but i had THREE SLICES. let me explain. so the pizza is kinda small and it’s cut up into four slices. including me there were four people in the group so we all agreed that we’d get two pizzas and everyone gets two slices. (i really should’ve only ate one but i justified it because i wanted to celebrate my graduation.) anyway so we get the food and drink (my friend and i shared a coke but i didn’t really drink it bc i quit soda for a year for 2023 and ever since carbonation just rlly hurts my stomach) and tell me why they just didn’t eat at all ???

my friend that i was sharing w ate the two slices and i did too, but the other two basically didn’t eat??? even tho we all agreed on two slices each in the first place ?? one of the guys ate one slice and when we offered him his second slice he said we was okay and the other guy LIED ABOUT BEING LACTOSE INTOLERANT?? i’ve known you for three year U R NOT LACTOSE INTOLERANT

i basically pleaded w him to actually eat something cause he hadn’t eaten all day and was talking about how he was hungry the whole time we were at disney. after that my friend and i were stuck w the dilemma of do we eat the last to slices or throw it away. the reason why it was so serious is bc the same guy that paid for my slushie paid for everyone’s pizza and drinks and refused to let anyone pay him back (he tried explaining that he liked being i provider but lowkey i think he just likes my friend) so it was like do we just throw it away and let his $40 (too fucking expensive) go for waste or just eat it… obv i do what i always do and eat.

the coke i drank made my stomach hurt so fucking bad dude. i felt like it was cramping up and i was gonna explode.

around night time i bought a brownie from one of the shops cause i thought they were gonna heat it up it was gonna be good but it was not 😭😭 it tasted so fucking bad like those cheap chocolates you get from the dollar store or something. i think this was a sign from god telling me that i have to stop eating bc it’s literally not worth it 🧐🧐

there was a free coke station next to a coke dj (that’s a weird sentence) and the women gave me coke zero… another sign from god 🐷🐷

we met up w two other friends to go on rollercoasters with. it was funny tho cause one of them we walked past and out of all of us i think i’m the not that talks to him the most so like i waved at him and then two min later he came up to join us and he said it’s cause he was tried of watching them eat for two hours 😭

after that for the rest of the night i mainly hung out w him (also i gave him my gross ass brownie cause for some reason he liked it)

it was strange tho ,, not to be like narcissistic but i feel like he likes me cause whenever we would go on a ride he would always change where he was gonna go and somehow we’d always end up together on the ride. before gradnite ended he bought me a churro and we were suppose to split it half and half but he barely even touched it and told me i could have the rest. basically i ate the whole churro..

there were two busses and whichever bus u go in depends on ur last name. so him and i sat together while all of our other friends were on a different bus. and at some point it lowkey got romantic ⁉️🤨 omg this feels so weird to talk about 😭

during the ride back to school he started putting his watch on me. the first time he got that watch i was joking around w him and being like “oh let me have it” or something like that and he told me “lowkey i think my wrist is smaller than urs” HUMBLED ME FR

idk he was lowkey struggling to put it on me (NOT CAUSE IM FAT BUT BC IT WAS DARK) and i feel like that just added to the mood 🤨

something about its being 3am and watching him put his favorite watch on me in the moonlight and basically just holding my hand for five minutes cause he couldn’t figure it out rlly got to me 🧐

i tried giving him his watch back but he told me i could keep it and when we got off the bus he hugged me goodbye and in the moment it was fine but looking back on it i feel so self conscious

what if i didn’t feel small, what if he had gotten a feel of my rolls, what if my stomach had smoosh into him and suffocated him, what if he felt how big my arms are once i wrapped them around him.

i hugged other people goodbye after that but i tried avoiding it until they’re like “no cmon give me a hug” NO I DKNT WANNA GIVE U A HUG ULL FEEL MY DISGUSTING BODY

idk how many cals i has this day but i had 27k steps so hopefully it canceled out 😊😊

thank u for hearing my rant (nobody is gonna reads this)

[doyouknowbtsswag]

Temptation |Taehyun AU| (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6

I got a good night's sleep for once and a while. When I woke up I got ready quickly wanting to leave as face as I could. I walked downstairs and started on the dough I took my time making the dough so I didn't mess up. I left it on the counter and walked outside. I quickly made my way to the clearing. I tried to recall all the steps I made before. After a half hour, I saw what I was looking for. I smiled and ran to the patch of flowers were I saw the boy with blue hair. I looked around and didn't see him. I frowned finding things too good to be true. I sat down deciding to at least admire the flowers. I sat down and picked the flowers around me to make a flower crown.

"Boo," Someone said from behind me.

I jumped about to scream before the person put their hand on my mouth. I looked and saw the guy from yesterday laughing. I frowned pushing his hand off of my face.

"It's not funny you know"

"You should've seen your face." He continued to laugh.

"You're so mean" I crossed my arms.

"I didn't think you'd come back," He said sitting next to me.

"Same with you," I said looking at him.

"Why'd you come back then?" He asked picking flowers.

"Just wanted to" I shrugged.

"I think it's because you wanted to see me," He said leaning over.

"As if," I said pushing his head away smiling.

"Mhm sure" he teased.

"I just really like flowers."

"It is a pretty place" He smiled leaning back with his hands holding him up.

"I got in trouble last night," I said laying on the ground.

"For what?"

"Yesterday I wasn't supposed to be here so in a way I snuck out."

"Well, why are you here now?" He asked.

"I have rules to follow to be here so it's an agreement of some sort that my dad made up," I said looking at the sky. "I have to make the dough in the morning and clean up at night"

"Dough?"

"My family owns a bakery in my village so I pitch in to help."

"Interesting," He said weaving the flowers through each stem. "What's your village like?"

"Boring and it can be annoying or fun"

"What do you mean like that?"

"Well it's not as colorful or more calming than here and they always gossip about random stuff." I sighed. "I'll be a victim of gossip when people see me go into the woods."

"Why do people not go in the woods? It's strange to me" he said laying down himself.

"You tell me" I sighed. "Guess because it looks gloomy and creepy. "It's scary at night"

"Well, whatever they say I wouldn't listen to what they say."

"I don't plan to," I said. "No matter what I'm always coming back."

"Why's that?"

"For once in my life I have someone to talk to"

"Me too" Taehyun smiled looking at the clouds. "Look it's a dog"

"Really?" I asked before he let out a little laugh.

"The cloud" He pointed to one of the clouds.

"It does. I never took time to appreciate the sky" I said before pointing at a cloud. "It looks like a bunny!"

"Are you sure? It looks like a duck"

"Find your own cloud to criticize. It's a bunny"

"Okay sure," He said jokingly rolling his eyes.

I smiled looking over at him. His smile was contagious and his eyes were gleaming. He turned and looked at me. I quickly looked away as he chuckled shaking his head and smiling. For the rest of the day, we watched the clouds go by pointing at different ones and arguing about the shape it is.

"Let's watch the sunset," I said looking forward.

"Don't you have to go home? It's getting late"

"I'll be fine don't worry" I looked at him. "It'll be worth it"

"Are you sure?" He asked worriedly.

"Mhm, when it's dark I can still see with my handy lamp," I said patting the object.

"Alright," He smiled giving in.

We sat as the sun slowly set the golden hour made everything look pretty. Once it was fully set I turned the lamp on Taehyun held his hand out to help me up which I took. I brushed myself off with my hand and looked at Taehyun.

"See you tomorrow" I smiled.

"Wait," He said grabbing my wrist. "Let me walk you back.

"You don't have to I'll be fine" I smiled gently.

"Fine I'll just follow you to make sure you're safe"

"That's creepy"

"I didn't mean for it to sound like that" He laughed. "But in all seriousness let me walk you to at least the halfway point"

"Alright alright," I said rolling my eyes.

"Don't act like you wouldn't get scared" He said. "You probably are now"

"You have no idea what you're talking about" The bush rattled and I jumped hiding behind Taehyun.

"Wow scared of a bunny?"

"Shut up," I said looking away as he walked me back.

"So do you want me to fully escort you out of the woods?"

"Yes please" I mumbled.

"What would you do without me" he teased.

"I'm good from here I swear I just don't want anyone to see you," I said seeing the village.

"Alright, see ya," He said.

"Bye," I smiled and ran home.

It wasn't that late and they never gave me a curfew so I snuck in. I looked around and this time nobody was around. I quickly went to work cleaning the bakery and even the kitchen. I had to make sure I did what my parents wanted me to do so I could see Taehyun. I walked upstairs and saw my parents sleeping early knowing I would be the one cleaning. I went to my room to change closing the windows and the curtains. I lay in bed smiling about seeing the clouds in a new view thanks to Taehyun.

[spacesquidlings]

How Lovely Are Thy Branches

Description: Gavin and Rowan take their children to choose a Christmas tree for their family, and experience all the holiday chaos that comes with them

Pairing: Gavin Bai x MC (Rowan)

Warnings: None <3

A/N: Hello!!! Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas!!!! I think Gavin would love to do cute family things like this, but I also think any family he had would be exceedingly chaotic, so no outing (particularly not when they're trying to select a Christmas tree) would be particularly easy!!!! (Also as someone who HAS gone to a Christmas tree farm to select a tree, it is perhaps THE most chaotic thing I have experienced, and I've worked retail on Christmas eve) (as an additional note, this is officially featuring the baby bais Aurora, Wisteria, Cordelia, and Gardenia)

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

“Are we there yet?”

Sighing, Rowan massaged her temple as Gavin snorted, the corners of his lips curving up like a crescent moon peeking out from the shadows of the night.

“No, we’re not there yet, love,” she said, closing her eyes. “Although I wish we were.”

“Mama!”

Rowan looked back at the veritable army of little girls strapped into their car seats. Only Aurora, their oldest, was big enough to sit without even a booster seat, although being big enough and old enough to sit without a car seat did not mean she was old enough to not kick at the back of the seats in front of her when she was bored.

“Aurora, I need you to stop kicking the seat now.”

“Mama, Wisteria took my juice,” Aurora whined, pointing to her sister.

Wisteria, the culprit in question, very clearly had 2 juice boxes, although she shook her head furiously and denied the accusation against her.

“Wisteria, I can see the second juice box in your hand. Give it back to your sister.”

“She wasn’t having it! And I’m thirsty!”

“That’s not true, I was looking at some pretty birdies and then you stole it.”

Rowan watched as the two girls made faces at each other, wondering whether it was worth trying to break them up. It was entirely possible that they would tire themselves out and go back to whatever they had been doing before.

“Mama, ‘Bluey’ stopped.”

She craned her neck to the other side, to where the twins Cordelia and Gardenia sat, hands clasped together, eyes wide as they watched her.

“Would you like me to play another one?”

They both nodded their heads, silent as she took the tablet from the headrest and clicked through the movies.

After a few moments she selected the next episode, repositioning the tablet before pressing play.

“There you go, my loves. Although I don’t know how much of the episode you’ll get to watch. We’re almost there.”

She leaned back in her seat, meeting Gavin’s eye. “We are almost there, aren’t we?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It shouldn’t be too long now.”

She slumped back in her seat. “I feel exhausted and we haven’t even gotten there yet.”

He removed one hand from the wheel, twining his fingers with hers. “I’ll have to buy you an extra treat when we get there.”

“Is there food?” She asked, leaning forward.

Gavin released her hand to press his index finger to his lips shushing her. She nodded, leaning back. “I’ll hold you to that, then.”

“Why don’t you take a rest?” He asked. “I’m sure the girls can handle themselves for the next twenty minutes.”

Rowan frowned. “What if they need something?”

“I’m their father, I’m perfectly capable of helping them, silly.” He smiled, his expression soft.

Her frown deepened in contrast. “You’re driving. I don’t want you to do anything unsafe.”

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, bringing her hand to his lips and brushing a kiss against her knuckles. “I can absolutely handle myself for half an hour. You look sleepy, so why don’t you take a nap for a bit.”

Rowan sighed, closing her eyes. She supposed she was tired, but a part of her felt terribly ashamed at the idea of sleeping while he drove and fielded the unending stream of questions and demands from their children.

But her eyes were heavy, and she couldn’t seem to make them open. The sounds of the children grew distant, muffled, the steadiness of Gavin’s hand in hers seeming to melt away, although the warmth of it remained.

She didn’t wake again until they had arrived, Gavin gently rousing her from sleep with a press of his lips to her palm.

“Pumpkin, we’re here,” he murmured against her hand, his breath tickling her skin.

She wrinkled her nose, her body heavy, like her bones were made of lead. “Why did you let me sleep?”

“I told you to sleep. You needed rest.”

Rowan groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “Well now I’m just tired.”

He chuckled at her gravelly voice. She felt his hands cupping her cheeks, his callouses scraping against her skin. “Want me to carry you? I’m sure the girls can manage on their feet for a few minutes.”

She cracked her eyes open, frowning. “I can walk perfectly well, babey.”

“But I’m offering, if it will help,” he murmured.

But Gavin wasn’t able to say much more because the girls started whining, Aurora kicking her feet against the back of the seat as Wisteria leaned as far forward as she could in her seat.

“Let us out!” She waved her hands in the air. “Let us out, papa!”

Rolling his eyes, Gavin unbuckled himself from the car and opened the door. But before he stood he looked back at Rowan, a small line forming between his brows. “Just wait a moment, pumpkin. I’ll help you out.”

Rowan would have put up a fight, would have argued at least a little, but she felt so tired still she could hardly move.

She rested her hands on her swollen belly, wincing as the baby kicked at her ribs.

“Baby, please,” she murmured, patting where the little feet continued to kick. “You’re hurting your mama.”

There were only a few weeks left until her due date and Gavin had become even more overprotective than usual. She supposed he had good reason to, all of her pregnancy symptoms feeling so much worse than they had in the past. Her feet swollen so terribly it hurt to walk, her bladder constantly full, her exhaustion like a coat that was weighing her down with every passing second.

But they had been planning to come out and choose a Christmas tree for weeks. The girls had been so excited they’d hardly slept, the date circled on the calendar over and over in bright red and green gel pens.

She was not about to let swollen feet and fatigue ruin the day. She wanted the girls to have fun, she wanted Gavin to have fun, she wanted to have fun.

Squeals echoed from outside, the high pitched shrieks of the girls muffled as Gavin shut the car doors. It was only another moment before he opened the passenger door, his cheeks already flushed from the freezing wind whipping through the air.

“I missed you,” she said, running a hand through his messy hair.

Gavin chuckled in answer, taking her hands and kissing them before he undid her seatbelt and offered her his hand.

She wanted to comment that she was perfectly capable of getting out of the car herself, but then the baby kicked again, and she had to stifle a shout because it hurt. Hurt more than any of the other kicks, completely knocking any thoughts of sharp rejoinders from her mind.

“What’s wrong?” Gavin murmured, eyes full of gentle warmth, like early morning sunshine melting away the shadows of the night. “Tell me, I want to help.”

She wiggled forward in the seat, wincing. “The baby just kicked really hard.”

Gavin chuckled, tucking his arms around her waist and gently pulling her to her feet. “Harder than Wisteria?”

Rowan blinked, the world spinning in a blur of evergreen needles and wisps of snow. “I think so.”

He patted her belly. “He’s probably just excited.”

“Come onnnn!” Wisteria cried, tugging on Gavin’s jacket, pouting at them. “Wanna get the tree!”

“You need to be patient, baked potato,” Gavin chided gently. “Your mama needs an extra few minutes.”

“Why?”

He crouched down, readjusting Wisteria’s hat so it covered her ears. “Because she’s got your baby brother in her tummy, and it’s hard to carry him around all the time.”

“Why?”

Rowan covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing. Sometimes Wisteria’s never-ending questions exhausted her, but she would be lying if she said it wasn’t funny, too. Particularly when the questions weren’t directed at her.

“Well babies are heavy.”

Wisteria seemed to ponder this for a while, long enough for Gavin to retuck the blankets around the twins in their wagon before she spoke again.

“But babies are little!”

Now Rowan really did snort, and she had to turn away as Gavin shot her a glare.

“Well, do you remember when the twins were little? When they were first born.”

“Yeah.”

“Remember how you could only hold them if you were sitting down?”

Wisteria nodded.

“It’s because, although they’re small, they’re still heavy. And if you hold them for too long, your arms will get tired and you might drop them.”

“But mama isn’t holding the baby! He’s in her tummy.”

“But after carrying him for so long in her tummy he feels heavy.”

Wisteria screwed up her face, clearly unhappy with Gavin’s answer.

“But-”

“We just have to go a little slower right now,” he said, cutting Wisteria off. “So mama can feel okay.”

Aurora sidled up next to Rowan, little hands clasping around Rowan’s. “I’ll stay with you, mama! So you’re safe!”

Rowan smiled, squeezing Aurora’s hand. She didn’t know how she’d gotten so lucky, to have such sweet girls as her daughters. “Thank you, sweet potato. I feel better already.”

“It’s my healing magic!” Aurora cried, swinging Rowan’s hand.

“You’re healing magic?”

Wisteria nodded her head furiously, coming up to Rowan’s other side. “Oh yes, we were playing magic yesterday!”

“Oh were you?”

Rowan followed after Gavin as he began pushing the stroller. They had parked in a gravel parking lot only a few feet from the entrance, and Rowan could make out the tips of evergreen trees piercing the slate grey of the sky as their procession slowly made its way to the front booth.

Rather than purchasing a tree from a grocery store or from some of the little pop-ups with pre-cut trees that were scattered around the city, Rowan and Gavin had agreed that they would take the girls to a Christmas tree farm. Aurora had seen one on TV and had been begging them to take her to one for most of the year, and Wisteria would surely love the extra space to run around in the snow while they searched out the perfect tree.

The twins, for their part, were likely content to comment on the squirrels and birds they spied flitting around the trees.

And it would also make the day a little more special, a little different from choosing a tree at random or pulling out the little plastic tree they had used when Aurora had first been born.

Rowan hoped it would make them all happy, even if her body was already screaming at her to sit down as they stood at the ticket booth while Gavin paid for their admission.

“Mama, I want the biggest tree,” Wisteria sang, letting go of her hand and stomping ahead, snow crunching beneath her light up boots. “The biggest!”

“Well I don’t know if we can get the biggest. The ceilings aren’t that tall.”

“HUUUGE!” Wisteria continued, very clearly not listening at all. “A HUGE tree!”

A couple narrowed their eyes at Wisteria as they walked past, a tree balanced between them. Wisteria paused when she saw them, beaming so widely they could see the gap in her front teeth from her missing baby teeth.

Gavin levelled a hard stare at the couple, and they hurried away, mouths pressed tightly shut. It was clear Gavin would not stand for anyone reprimanding Wisteria for her excitement.

“Come on little baked potato,” he said, scooping her up and depositing her on his shoulder. “You can be my lookout.”

Wisteria squealed, grasping Gavin’s head. “Lookout for what?”

“For the best tree!”

She kicked her legs, and Rowan had to cover her mouth again to stifle her laughter as Gavin narrowly avoided getting his face kicked.

“I think you might have made a mistake,” she murmured, eyes flicking up to Wisteria, her golden eyes wide as she scanned the trees. “You’re going to end up with a concussion.”

“I won’t get hurt,” he answered, squeezing her hand for a moment before dropping it, having to hold tight to Wisteria as she teetered on his shoulders. “I have something far too important to do.”

“And what’s that?” She asked, reaching out to gently tuck Cordelia back into the wagon as she tried climbing out.

“Taking care of my wife,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

Rowan felt her face burning despite the frigid air. She tried a half-assed counter, but there was no bite to it, and she didn’t really mean it.

“I’m not a porcelain doll you know, I won’t break.”

Gavin huffed a laugh, bumping her arm with his. “Maybe it’s important to me because it’s something I want to do, not something I have to do.”

She smiled, pressing her face against his shoulder for the barest of moments. Her chest felt warm, not the acidic fire of the heartburn that had been plaguing her during the last few months, but the gentle warmth of a springtime sun. Like stars were blooming in her heart, filling her with their soft, silvery and gold light.

She liked being taken care of by Gavin, being doted on. Getting to be held in his arms and tucked in when she needed to rest. Feeling his smile against her skin as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, as he murmured that he loved her. Not having to cook every day, not having to do as much cleaning. Even occasionally getting carried so she did not have to put more pressure on her already aching feet, although she had tried talking Gavin out of it recently. Carrying an eight-month pregnant woman was certainly not an easy task, although he never so much as made a sound other than to tell her he loved her whenever he did lift her into his arms.

“MAMA!” Now Aurora was shrieking too, letting go of Rowan’s hand to sprint into the trees, vanishing from view.

“Aurora, don’t run where we can’t see you!” Rowan called, but it was far too late for that.

She could still hear Aurora shrieking with delight, and they followed the sound of her voice until they found her, arms wrapped around the trunk of a tree, pine needles in her hair.

“Mama, papa, this one,” she sang, wiggling. “It’s perfect.”

“No!” Wisteria squirmed on Gavin’s shoulders until he set her down, and she marched up to Aurora, hands on her hips.

“I don’t want that tree!” Wisteria cried, crossing her arms. “It’s too short.”

Rowan bit down on her bottom lip. “I mean, it’s a pretty good height actually.”

“Mama, you twaitor!” Wisteria wailed, fake tears filling her eyes. “It’s no good!”

Now Aurora’s bottom lip was quivering, and Rowan felt her heart ratchet. What she had not anticipated was a full blown meltdown this early on.

“Hey, it’s a beautiful tree, sweet potato,” Rowan cooed, leaning down as far as she dared, tugging Aurora into a tight embrace. “I think it’s beautiful.”

“But why did Wisteria say it was ugly?” Aurora sniffled, arms hanging limp at her sides.

“Well she thinks different things are beautiful.”

“Like what?”

“Like really really tall trees.”

Another sniffle. “But I think this tree is pretty.”

Rowan pulled away, wiping Aurora’s tears from her cheeks. “And you’re right, it’s a very pretty tree.”

Her bottom lip continued to wobble, and she glared down at the snow-packed ground, as if contemplating whether she was going to have a tantrum or not.

“Why don’t we think of a name for your tree,” Rowan suggested, taking Aurora’s hand. “We can brainstorm and come up with some names!”

Aurora giggled, wiping her nose with her free hand. “What’s a brainstorm? Is it like when uncle Shaw is happy?”

Gavin snorted, and Rowan couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “No, love, a brainstorm is when you think of a whole bunch of different things.”

“So like when I’m thinking bout cereal and also toast? And Stella and also my dollies?”

Rowan tipped her head to the side. “Kind of. But it’s like. You’re thinking up a lot of ideas. Like thinking of different pretty names for your tree would be brainstorming.”

Aurora’s mouth fell into a small o and she nodded thoughtfully. “Okays. How bout Belle? That’s a princess name!”

“That’s a fantastic name.”

“Or Jasmine? Or Anna? Ooo or Ariel, that’s a pretty princess name!”

“Those are all very pretty names,” Rowan agreed, relieved that the tears had stopped.

“Can you think of any, mama?”

Rowan opened her mouth to respond, a few names popping into her mind that she’d seen while she and Gavin had been perusing the baby name websites, still trying to settle on the name of their new baby.

But Wisteria’s shrieks cut her off, her second daughter bolting deeper into the trees, like she was being swallowed up by sentient woods.

“Wisteria Faye!” Gavin called, scowling. “You were told not to run!”

“Papa.”

Gavin’s expression softened as he looked down, towards the twins still tucked in the wagon.

Only for his eyes to nearly fall completely from their sockets as Cordelia toddled away, attention focused on a small tree barely taller than her.

Gardenia, still wrapped in the blankets in the wagon, giggled as Gavin scooped Cordelia up, tickling her when she tried squirming out of his arms.

“Nice try little tater tot,” he chided as he tossed her back into the wagon. “But you won’t get away so easily.”

“Come look what I found!”

Rowan nearly leapt out of her skin as Wisteria popped out from behind a tree next to her, mischief in her golden eyes as she beamed up at her and Gavin.

“Where do you think you were going?” Gavin asked, lifting her up by the back of her jacket. It was vaguely reminiscent of a cat lifting a kitten by its scruff, and Rowan couldn’t help giggling at the mental image.

“Looking at the twees!” Wisteria sang, seeming utterly unconcerned that she was being dangled like a naughty kitten.

Gavin massaged his temple, looking utterly spent. “Wisteria, you know you can’t run ahead alone.”

She kicked her feet into the air. “I wasn’t alone! I had my ‘maginary friends with me!”

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “You can’t run ahead without an adult.”

Wisteria stuck out her tongue. “Booo.”

“Don’t boo your father,” Rowan chimed in. “He’s trying to make sure you stay safe.”

Wisteria turned on Rowan next, sticking her tongue out further. “Booooo.”

The twins chimed in, giggling as they echoed Wisteria.

“Booo!”

“Boooooo!”

Rowan heaved a sigh, feeling helpless as she looked at Gavin.

He shrugged, looking equally helpless as Cordelia began climbing out of the wagon again, little hands grasping at his jacket to steady her.

Neither of them had time to debate on the best course of action as the girls continued to boo them, Wisteria darting forward once again, dancing on her toes when no one made a move to follow her.

“I found the perfect twee!” She cried, her cheeks flushed from the wind. Her hat slipped to one side, and snowflakes caught in her messy brown hair, the colour like a splash of spring in the midst of the freezing winter. It was the same colour as Gavin’s hair, and just as messy.

This time Rowan scooped Cordelia up, depositing her back into the wagon, although she knew by now it was a fruitless effort. But hopefully it at least tired her out. Just a bit.

“Come on!” Wisteria cried again, bouncing in place now.

Gavin sighed, taking Rowan’s hand in his, a defeated look on his face. “You know, I’ve gone on missions less difficult than wrangling Wisteria.”

Rowan laughed, squeezing his hand. “You’re the best agent the STF has, Commander Gavin. If anyone can wrangle her, it’s you.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his lips belied his feigned exasperation.

“I love you,” Rowan whispered, wincing as Cordelia tried climbing from the wagon again, nearly tumbling to the ground.

“Even when I can barely handle our children?”

He looked a little vulnerable, his eyes wide, his shoulders drooping.

“Hey,” Rowan murmured, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I can barely handle them on my best days. And I’m here to help.”

He squeezed her hand. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“It’s a good thing that you don’t have to imagine it, then.”

He leaned his brow against hers, sighing. “Do you remember when it was just the two of us cutting down our own Christmas trees? Do you remember that first year?”

She laughed, the memory of the first time they had come here surfacing in her mind. Of when they had only just started to live together, when they had arrived and searched amongst the trees, when two little children had run around their ankles they’d helped them find their parents, searching desperately for their wayward kids.

“I do remember,” she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment, remembering how cold it had been. How warm Gavin’s hands had been, the sound of his laughter echoing through the trees as they’d joked around. The taste of the warm hot chocolate and cinnamon dusted doughnuts the Christmas tree farm sold in their little shop.

She even remembered the smiles and the round cheeks of the children they had returned to their parents, how she had felt the ache in her heart as they’d chattered away, the desperate want that squeezed her lungs until she could hardly breathe.

How Gavin had blushed when she’d mentioned that bringing children to pick out a tree must be fun. How he had responded in kind, that one day they would bring their children to choose a tree, and how happy a day it would be when they did.

And then they had laughed, hoping that if they had children they would not be half as chaotic as those two children had been.

Rowan looked to Cordelia, who had successfully climbed from her wagon once more, waddling after Wisteria, who was still shrieking at them in the distance.

As it happened, their children were twice as chaotic and mischievous as those two kids.

Not that she would have had it any other way.

“This reminds me a little of that day,” he murmured, bringing her attention back to him.

“Oh?” She asked, tipping her head to the side as she smiled. “In what way?”

They were not given more time to reminisce as crying erupted a few feet away, Gardenia trying to follow after her sister and plummeting face-first into the snow.

“Oh little tater tot,” Rowan cried, scooping her daughter into her arms. “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Gardenia sniffled, her face red, clumps of snow falling away from her cheeks. “Mama, it’s cold.”

“I know love, I know,” Rowan murmured, bouncing her gently. “Want me to hold you for a while?”

“Yes please.”

Rowan tucked Gardenia against her chest, bouncing in place. “So much for the wagon being useful.”

Gavin shrugged. “It was a nice idea. But it would have worked better with seatbelts.”

Rowan snickered, rubbing Gardenia’s back as they began following Cordelia and Wisteria. Snow crunched underfoot, the sound of Aurora singing cutting through the relative quiet wrapping around them. They had walked deep enough into the farm that most sounds had faded away, only the trees and their family and the occasional rustle of a branch for company.

“Mama,” Aurora asked, tugging on Rowan’s jacket. “Can we put the squishes on the tree this year? The little ones?”

Gardenia peaked up, her amber eyes still lined in silver tears. “Flowers too?”

Rowan hummed, bouncing Gardenia until she giggled. “Well I’ll have to see about that. Which squishes did you want to put on the tree?”

Aurora was referring to the two packs of small, round stuffed animals they had bought on a shopping trip to costco. Rowan had been under the impression that they were just little stuffed animals the girls could play with, but when they’d opened the boxes she’d realized they had little strings attached to their bodies, and could be hung like ornaments on a Christmas tree.

“All of em!” Aurora sang, waving her hands. “I want ALL of them!”

“We’ll have to ask your sisters if they would like them on the tree too,” Gavin chimed in, although he was smiling.

“Of course they will, papa!” Aurora sang, skipping over towards him. “They love the squishes!”

He grinned, leaning down to scoop her up. “Is that so? What will we do for the angel then?”

“A really big squish!”

Aurora squealed as Gavin tickled her, wiggling in his hold.

“Maybe we should put you on top of the tree,” he teased, lifting Aurora up, pretending like he was going to set her on top of one of the nearest trees.

“Papa, no!” She squealed, wriggling helplessly. “I can’t go on the tree! I’m too big!”

“Are you?” He asked, lowering her from the tree. “Are you sure? You look like you’ll fit.”

She shrieked, shaking her head furiously, her hat falling to the ground. “No I’m not! You need something small!”

He hummed, tucking her against his chest. “Then who will go on top of the tree?”

Aurora giggled. “Maybe Cordelia! She’s little enough.”

Gavin’s eyes glittered as he set Aurora down, scooping up her hat and placing it back on the top of her head. “Well if we’re going to put Cordelia on top of a tree, we’ll have to catch her.”

Aurora gaped. “How will we do that?!”

“We’ll have to be very very quiet and very fast,” Gavin murmured, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, the sunshine catching in their depths and turning their amber to a brilliant gold. “Because Cordelia is very fast.”

“And if she shouts, Wisteria might attack,” Aurora said, her face strangely somber.

“And we don’t want that.”

“No. She’ll try to stop us.”

Rowan giggled as she watched the two of them, her heart so warm it was a miracle the snow around her didn’t melt away as she stepped near.

If she were being honest, all of her was warm. Perhaps too warm. And her lower back had begun to ache, and she felt like she’d been running a marathon for how much she was gasping for breath, although they had barely been walking for more than fifteen minutes.

“I need to put you down for a minute, tater tot,” she said to Gardenia, a fissure cracking her heart in two as Gardenia whimpered, fists curling into the fabric of Rowan’s jacket. “Just for a minute.”

Gavin was beside her in an instant, gently extracting Gardenia from Rowan’s arms. “You need to let mama have a break, okay? It’s hard for her to carry you and the baby.”

Gardenia pouted. “I want mama.”

“Well you can snuggle mama when we get home.”

“Want mama now.”

Rowan reached out, taking Gardenia’s little hands. “I love you, little tater tot. I just need a minute, I feel very tired.”

Gardenia slumped against Gavin, but nodded, her bottom lip sticking out. “Okay, mama.”

Rowan pressed a kiss to Gardenia’s forehead before pulling away, wincing as the world tilted around her. She felt a little like she had just stepped off a fair ride, the world around her tilting and spinning as she had been only moments before.

“Woah there,” Gavin slid his arm around Rowan’s waist, letting her lean against his side as she breathed deeply, eyes squeezing shut as she waited for the world to steady itself again.

“Pumpkin,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against the top of her head. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I will be, in just a moment,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes tighter.

It felt as though the very ground beneath her feet was swaying, like she was standing on the deck of a ship swaying in stormy ocean waves.

It took another few minutes before the ground felt stable again, and another few more before she trusted herself enough to open her eyes.

“Okay, I think I’m better now,” she said, struggling to step away from Gavin.

“Are you sure?” He asked, pulling her back against him before depositing Gardenia back into the wagon. “Should we stop for a minute?”

She shook her head, even as she leaned against him once more for support. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be alright.”

From the wrinkle of his brow, she knew he was not entirely convinced.

“Just promise me you’ll buy me some snacks when we’re done here.”

He offered her a reassuring smile, one that was brighter than the sunshine spilling over their heads. She felt some of her strength returning, and she smiled in return.

“Anyways, we can’t take a break now. Not when you’re planning on putting Cordelia on top of a tree.”

Gardenia giggled, but even Aurora looked concerned, wrapping her arms around Rowan’s leg, staring up at her with wide, anxious eyes.

“Are you okay, mama?” She asked, her voice wobbling.

“I’m okay, sweet potato,” she promised, readjusting Aurora’s hat. “I just felt a little dizzy for a minute.”

“Why?”

Rowan wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure, actually. I was told it’s a pregnancy symptom.”

Now Aurora was wrinkling her nose in kind. “A symptom? Like when you’re sick?”

“Yes, just like when you’re sick.”

“But you’re not sick!”

Rowan shook her head. “No, but I do have a baby in my tummy. And sometimes babies make you feel a little sick.”

Aurora seemed to contemplate this for a second, glaring at Rowan’s swollen belly.

“Mama,” she said at last, turning her attention back to Rowan. “Did I make you dizzy?”

Rowan bit down on the laughter threatening to bubble from her lips as she remembered when she’d been pregnant with Aurora, when she’d been experiencing everything for the very first time and being utterly terrified.

“A little,” she said at last, unable to hold back her smile. “And I was also really really hungry for strawberries all the time.”

“Strawberries are my favourite!” Aurora sang, bouncing on her toes. “You’re just like me, mama!”

Rowan grinned, swinging Aurora’s hand as they moved forward. “And you’re just like me!”

Aurora giggled, her previous concerns melting like snow beneath warm spring sunshine.

Rowan could, however, tell that Gavin’s concerns remained, his eyes narrowed as he watched her for a few moments longer. But there wasn’t much he could do, they were deep in the trees now, and there were no places they could sit for a while without turning back around and heading to the little shop near the front of the farm where food and ornaments and knick-knacks were sold.

He continued to glower for another moment until Aurora yanked on his hand. “Come on, papa! We have to get her!”

His expression softened and he let himself be dragged forward by his daughter, a gentle smile on his face.

Rowan hung back, pulling the wagon with Gardenia snuggled inside, her youngest content to wrap the blankets round and around herself until she was reminiscent of a caterpillar tucked away in its cocoon.

Gavin scooped up Cordelia as Aurora shrieked with delight, bouncing in place as Cordelia shouted. Wisteria, for her part, was nowhere to be seen. Which meant she was very likely hiding somewhere waiting to attack.

Gardenia wrinkled her little nose, barely visible beneath the layers of blankets she’d managed to wrap herself in. “I don’t wanna be on da tree.”

“Well it’s a good thing you don’t have to be on the tree.”

“Cordelia is.”

“That’s because Cordelia is loud and silly. Only loud and silly girls get put on trees!”

“Like Wistewia?”

She laughed, nodding as Gardenia watched her quietly, her expression somber. “Yes, just like Wisteria!”

“Can we has flowews on the twee, mama?”

“What kind of flowers?” Rowan asked, all while Cordelia shrieked as Gavin propped her up on a tree branch, squealing that she’s not an ornament.

“Pwetty ones.”

Rowan snorted, pausing so she could pat Cordelia’s head. “Why don’t we go to a flower shop sometime and pick out some pretty flowers?”

Cordelia bobbed her head, a small smile on her face. “Yes pwease!”

Rowan couldn’t help the way her lips tugged upwards as she imagined the different blooms that could decorate their tree. Perhaps some roses, some daisies if there were any. Maybe they would find some dried amaranthus to drape on some of the branches, too. She remembered the flower shop close to their house sometimes had dried amaranthus in different colours, and she was sure a few red ones would look splendid alongside some white daisies.

Gardenia had given her a wonderful idea, and now she would have to find a way to incorporate it alongside all the plush ornaments Aurora was adamant on hanging.

Perhaps she could come up with a theme… Something to match the squihsmallows.

Oh, but weren’t they planning to make dried orange garlands this year? And Wisteria had been asking to try popcorn garlands, too. How would she make it all work?

Cordelia and Gavin’s shouts of laughter drew her from her contemplation, and she looked up in time to see him tossing Cordelia into the air, catching her and spinning her around. Aurora laughed beside them, arms lifted in the air as she begged to go next.

She couldn’t help her own smirk as she watched them play, Cordelia balling snow up in her little mitts and chucking it at Gavin’s legs when he turned his attention to tossing Aurora into the air next.

All her deliberations on flowers and squishmallows and garlands would be in vain if they did not even have a tree.

Aurora shrieked something about being a magic bird as Gavin threw her into the air again, her hat flying from her head. Cordelia turned to pick it up, and her eyes widened when she saw Rowan still struggling to make her way towards them.

“Mama!” She cried, stumbling towards Rowan, arms outstretched. “Mama!”

“Cordelia!” Rowan sang in answer, leaning down as far as she could. “Are you having fun?”

Cordelia snickered, a sly look spreading across her face. “Yes!”

“Hmmm,” Rowan hummed, ruffling Cordelia’s hair. “You look like you’re up to some mischief!”

Cordelia, never one for being particularly adept at lying, attempted to bat her lashes as innocently as she could. Which just made her look like there was something caught in her eye that she could not manage to extract.

“No mischief, mama!”

Rowan narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “What are you planning, little tater tot?”

“Nothing!” Cordelia shook her head, pouting just the tiniest little bit. “Nothing, mama!”

That nothing Cordelia was certainly not planning was in fact Wisteria nearly giving Rowan a heart attack as she shouted boo from the nearest tree, her head poking out from the branches, entirely camouflaged in her dark green hat and coat.

‘They’re all wearing neon pink next year’ was Rowan’s only thought as she gasped, a shriek lodging in her throat.

Wisteria giggled from her hiding place in the tree, and then Cordelia was chucking little snowballs at Rowan and Gardenia, cackling along with her older sister.

“What’s going on?!” Gavin’s voice cracked as he set Aurora on the ground, eyes wide and terrified.

Cordelia paused before slowly turning her assault on Gavin, still giggling as maniacally as a toddler could. “A prank!”

Gavin attempted to scowl, but Rowan could see how he was struggling, the corners of his lips twitching, a snort escaping from his nose.

“You can’t just prank mama,” he chided, crouching down and gently prying Cordelia’s hands from the snow, clasping them together. “Not right now.”

Cordelia pouted, but Gavin didn’t get a chance to say much else before he was being pelted in the face with snowballs as Wisteria screamed.

Their second oldest still clung to the tree with one arm, but the other was chucking snowballs at everyone in her range, a seemingly endless supply of frozen ammunition at her disposal.

“I will defeat you, papa!” Wisteria cried, laughing so hard her entire body shook.

Rowan ducked her head, laughing as she felt snow slam against the bare skin of the back of her neck. “Wisteria!”

“You’re being very naughty!” Gavin shouted, but even he, strong as he was, could not contain his laughter as they were all defeated by a five year old dangling in a tree.

“The elf can’t see me!” Wisteria screamed, throwing one last snowball.

Gavin took that spare second as the chance to race towards the tree, hands grasping as Wisteria and yanking her from the branches before she could further her attack.

“Hey!” She squealed, wiggling uselessly as Gavin held her up in the air. “How could you?!”

He laughed, tossing her up and catching her again. “Very easily. Girls, I think we’re putting Wisteria on the top of the tree this year!”

The other girls giggled, having been clued in to Gavin’s joke about putting them on the tree like ornaments.

Wisteria, however, was not, and she looked absolutely stricken as he tossed her again.

Rowan covered her mouth as Wisteria plummeted back into Gavin’s arms, amber eyes wide as they fixed on Rowan. “Mama, don’t hang me from the twee.”

Fat teardrops slipped down her round cheeks, splattering to the snowy ground at their feat. “I don’t wanna be a ornament, mama.”

Her bottom lip was beginning to tremble, and Rowan had to bite her lip as she smoothed back Wisteria’s hair. “Well, you were very naughty today, running off without us.”

Her bottom lip quivered more, snot running from her nose. “But mama…”

“And you hid and threw snowballs at us!”

Her voice was little more than a squeak now. “Mamaaaa.”

“Okay okay, no more teasing,” she pried Wisteria from Gavin’s arms, cradling her close. “No more pranks, okay? We’re supposed to be here for a tree?”

Wisteria sniffed, tears still streaking down her cheeks. “Okay, mama.”

Gavin hummed, drawing Rowan’s attention back towards him. He was staring at the tree Wisteria had been hiding in, the sunshine reflecting in his eyes turning them a soft, warm gold. It reminded her of summer, of laughter, of the warmth of being wrapped in his arms.

“You know,” he mused, head tilting to one side. “This is a pretty good tree. It’s sturdy, it’s tall, but it should fit into the house no problem.”

He turned to look back at Rowan, brows raised. “What do you think?”

Rowan appraised the tree carefully, noting its somewhat stockier shape, its height more than a few inches taller than Gavin. Despite Wisteria using it as a hiding place, its branches seemed intact and she couldn’t find any gaping holes between the branches.

And it could withstand the chaos of their daughters.

Which made it more than perfect.

“I think this is it,” she sang, kissing the top of Wisteria’s head. “I think our Wisteria found us the perfect tree.”

Aurora cheered, and Cordela raced around the tree, arms out as she squealed something incoherent. Wisteria continued to fuss for a few minutes more, cuddling against Rowan and shooting Gavin a glower every few minutes, much to his annoyance.

“You’ll just have to bribe her with some treats,” Rowan teased, bumping Gavin with his elbow as they waited for the girls to calm down a bit.

They would need to get a staff member to help them cut the tree, since Rowan wasn’t in any state to help carry it once it was cut. In the meantime, Gavin wrapped netting around the tree, attaching a small tag indicating it had been claimed by their family. Now all they would need to do is signal to a staff member to help Gavin cut the tree down and carry it back to the car.

“We should head back to the front, then you can sit down while I get the tree.” He brushed snowflakes from her cheek, pressing a kiss against her freezing skin. “You need to rest.”

She patted his cheek. “You never stop worrying, do you?”

A mischievous smile danced across his lips, and he shook his head, eyes alight. “Not where you’re concerned. I want you safe.”

“Papa,” Wisteria said, voice quiet as she addressed Gavin for the first time in 10 minutes.

“What is it, little baked potato?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I’d feel safew wif some snacks, papa,” Wisteria said, giving him a sly smile.

He gaped at her as she continued to beam at him, and Rowan couldn’t help the snort that escaped her nose. Gavin shot her a sharp look, but she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself from laughing when Wisteria, after attacking them all with snowballs, turned around and said that.

After a moment Gavin sighed in defeat, shoulders slumping. “How can I say no to that?”

Wisteria looked smug as she smiled up at Rowan. “I wuv you mama.”

Rowan chuckled, kissing the top of Wisteria’s head once more before setting her down, her body aching so much she desperately needed to sit now. “I love you too.”

Another sigh from Gavin, who pulled Rowan against him as best as he could, nuzzling his face against hers. “What am I going to do with you all?”

She giggled. “Love us, I hope.”

“How could I not?”

“And buy us all treats.”

Another long, dramatic sigh. “I figured as much.”

Rowan pulled away to kiss his cheek. “I love you, babey.”

His eyes were soft, warm enough to melt the snow and the ice dripping from some of the trees. “I love you, too.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his head against hers once more before he called out to the girls. “Alright! Let’s head back to the front so we can get someone to help cut the tree!”

“I can cut it papa!”

Gavin turned, scooping Cordelia up and depositing her back into the wagon giggling. “I don’t think you can, tater tot. We need another adult for this.”

“Why not mama?” Gardenia asked, brow furrowed.

“Mama needs to sit down. And have something warm to eat,” he added, flicking Rowan a warm look.

“Would anyone else like a treat?”

All of the girls threw their hands into the air, a chorus of “yes yes please! I want a treat!”

Gavin took the handle of the wagon in one hand, and Rowan’s hand in the other.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, drawing her closer.

“Now that we’ve chosen a tree, we’ll have to think about how we’re going to decorate it,” Rowan said, taking hold of Wisteria’s hand with her free one.

Gavin arched a brow, looking amused. “Oh? And do you already have some ideas?”

She looked up at the sky, at the snowflakes cascading down from the grey clouds above, like miniature dancers twirling in the wind. “I might have a few.”

He squeezed her hand. “Why don’t you tell me? I’d like to hear what you’re thinking.”

And hand-in-hand, with their children in tow, despite the freezing wind and the snow gently spiralling around them, their hearts were filled with enough warmth and happiness to last more than a lifetime.