#chickys corner

[ghoststyles]

Missed Connections

Harry X YN WC: 6K

No smut in this one. Didn't feel right! Hopefully you like this as much as I do :)

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New York City, 1998

This dive bar is abysmal. 

Your Coach shoulder bag is sticking to the bar top while a ZZ Top-esque biker gang member chain smokes in the corner, blowing the smoke straight into your face, as One Headlight by the Wallflowers plays at a volume far too loud for your liking. 

The bartender places a poorly laminated menu, riddled with ring stains from the thousands of beers and simple cocktails poured over them. You’d be shocked if the vinyl seats don’t carry some sort of venereal disease, making you pull your jean skirt down, minimizing the direct contact with your skin. 

It’s a Thursday, your long days in the office, and the start of your best friend, Marcie’s, bachelorette party weekend. When did bachelorette parties turn into a weekend affair, anyway?

You suppose it’s because you’re the only single girl in the group; the only one to actually leave your suburban, central New Jersey upbringing to attend college and build a career in New York City. 

This is how you found yourself hosting 4 girls in your 550 square foot apartment for 3 days. Chickie’s the one with the fabulous life in Manhattan, why don’t we visit her! And who are you to say no? If it weren’t for her sister, you’d be Marcie’s Maid of Honor, so an unmitigated amount of guilt fell on your shoulders as the long distance bridesmaid. 

“Smile, Chickie, you look miserable. That’s not gonna get you a boyfriend any time soon,” Jenny teases you as she sits on the stool between you and the biker, her nose crinkling as she smells the vapor of the Marlboro reds. 

Jenny is the powerhouse of the group; the loud mouthed, opinionated friend who takes pleasure in picking on the other girls. You never pay her any mind. You thought for sure she’d eventually phase out after high school, but here she is nagging you, as usual. Even worse, she used your childhood nickname.

“I’m good, Jen. It’s not looking like my husband is going to walk through the door, anyway,” you laugh exasperatedly, looking around at the empty bar room illuminated by red lights and tons of novelty beer branded mirrors. The biker man leans back on his stool, furrowing his brows at you.

Jen laughs, lighting up her own cigarette and taking a long inhale. “You know, Andrew and I can set you up with any of his colleagues. Most of them are divorced once or twice, but, still good looking.”

Your lips purse out in preparation of a smart comeback, but your eyes divert to the door, where a group of late twenty and thirty something men walk through the door, taking seats at the corner of the bar. They huddle around one another, blocking your view of their faces. 

By this point, your girlfriends have changed the music and begin to dance on the tiny checkerboard dance floor, garnering the looks of everyone in the crowded space. Marcie is sloshing her drink around, the miniature veil in her hair slipping down as she moves. 

The biker man, your only ally for the evening, is now on a stool by the dartboard, dozing off as he nurses his umpteenth Budweiser. The bartender has refilled your gin & tonic a few times already, to which you place a few bills in his jar to your left. 

Marcie and Grace are now twirling around to You’re Still the One by Shania Twain, narrowly bumping into the group of men who walked in earlier. Marcie’s veil is barely grappling onto the top of her head, sending the two into a laughing fit.

You smile gently, still feeling the wave of exhaustion from your day in the office. In your own little bubble, your pocket of peace is disturbed when the stool next to you scrapes across the cement floors, sending an unstoppable shiver up your spine. 

“I’ll have a Budweiser, and whatever she’s having,” the new character quietly says to the bartender. Your head whips around to the gentle, but domineering tone, to find he’s not even looking at you. He fishes a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, sliding it in the direction of the barman. His brown, curly hair is unkempt, slightly hanging in his eyes as he looks down at you. 

“Thanks, but I can take care of it myself,” you brush him off, immediately turned off by the lack of eye contact.

“You’re the only one in here matching my energy tonight,” he chuckles, before turning his head to the biker in the corner. “Well, except for that guy.”

“I’m sure he’d love a drink,” you smirk, thumb picking at the laminated drink menu in front of you.

The stranger takes a swig of his beer, before placing it gently on the coaster. He finally turns to look at you, and you have to stop yourself from gawking. His striking eyes and perfectly chiseled jaw is the first thing to stand out. Looking down, his sleeves are rolled up to reveal a few sparse tattoos around his wrist and forearm.

“You’re the most miserable bridesmaid, and I’m the most miserable Best Man.”

You scoff, taking a sip of your cocktail before meeting his eyes over the rim of your glass. You place the cup down, jiggling the ice with it. 

“Bold of you to make any assumptions about me. I’m just here minding my own business.”

He purses his lips, now fully turning to face you on the stool next to him. “I’ve been here 30 minutes. You’ve only given blank stares to everyone in here, and exchanged glances with the motorcycle guy over there in whatever morse code you two have developed.”

About ready to hop off the stool and storm out, you’re intrigued at the next sentence out of his mouth. 

“I’m serious. We might as well get through this night together," he leans on the bar top, fist now supporting his chin. "How about we play 20 questions while your girls take shots and my boys stand there awkwardly watching.”

You scoff indignantly, unbelieving whether or not this twenty-something (thirty something?) man really wants to play 20 questions in the middle of a dive bar on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Laughing to yourself, you turn to face him.

“I’ll go first. Break the ice a little,” he licks his lips, placing his bottle down on the disintegrating coaster on the worn bar top. “Most traumatic childhood memory?”

As the question pours out of his mouth, you take a sip of your watery G&T, eyes bulging at the blatant bold question. 

“That—That, is what you start with? What about the name of my first pet? Name of my elementary school?”

“Who am I, your bank?” 

A smile finally— finally, makes its way to your lips. The tattooed stranger you met 35 minutes ago doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

From the dance floor, Marcie shoots you a knowing smile before pursing her lips and gyrating, taunting you, since you’re the notoriously modest friend.

You roll your eyes before meeting his — Blue? Green? You can’t really tell in the dim lighting. The Rolling Rocks neon sign is casting a hue over the left side of his face, a smile makes its way onto his face while he awaits your answer.

“My mom left me at a Walmart and didn’t realize for about thirty minutes. I stood with the old man who greets everyone at the door until she came back. Then he bought me a bouncy ball out of the machine in the vestibule so I’d stop hyperventilating.”

He sucks his lip in, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. Hesitating, he speaks again. Reaching for your hands folded neatly in your lap, he places his grotesquely large ones over them, staring into your eyes earnestly. 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” his voice dripping with sarcasm and mirth. 

Balling up your fists, you shake his hands off of yours. “You asked! I was only 7. It took me months to go back to Walmart, let alone look that poor 75-year old greeter in the eye.” 

He chuckles, taking another swig of his beer. “Okay, next question—” he starts, before you interrupt.

“Wait, I don’t get to ask a question?”

He hums, pretending to ponder it. 

“Mmmm, nope. I got some good ones,” he replies, gently tapping his temple with his middle finger. He sighs, taking another drink of his beer.

“Is the hokey pokey really what it’s all about?” He slightly tilts his head in your direction, shrugging. 

You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. What higher power above sent this creature over to talk to you? Your lip juts out into a pout as your eye contact cuts over to your safe haven — biker man. He seems to have more to worry about, like not falling asleep in the bar. 

Recognizing the shock that washes over your face, the man recoups, “Shit, I know — I know, that was so bad.”

It’s the gin. The giggles pour out of you, sending a sharp pain to your stomach. You grab his bicep so you don’t fall off the stool, squeezing the solid muscle there. He snorts, tilting his head back. Your kitten heels scrape the metal bar at the foot of the counter, barely giving you anything to grip on to.

“I’m gonna pee my pants,” tears are fully flowing from your eyes at this point. “I can’t, I can’t.” 

The man cackles, placing a hand on your lower back. Now, your group of girls gravitate to your corner of the bar, bumping into one another and spilling their cosmos. His boys have now gained their liquid courage to morph the two groups together. You’re the only single one, but you won’t ruin anyone’s fun.

“And I don’t wanna miss a thing! Even when I dream of you…” Marcie belts out Aerosmith into her pretend microphone. “The sweetest dream will never do, cause I miss you, babe, and I don’t wanna miss a thing!”

In that moment, Christina strides over to the two of you with her disposable camera, ushering you to get in frame with him. He smiles down at you — how tall is this guy? Even sitting down he has at least a foot on you. You smile gently, leaning into him as the disposable’s flash goes off.

“So cute!”

You break the tension by latching onto his built body. He’s standing now, making sure not to block you from view of your friends. With just a few minutes from midnight, you finally feel loose and that you could actually have a good time with this guy. His hand hasn’t left your lower back, so he presses you into him before staring down at you. 

“Chickie! Come to the bathroom with me,” Grace slurs, grabbing your hand. “It’s upstairs and I don’t think my legs will carry me.”

You inhale through your nose, trying to find a moment of patience for your friend and her unpleasant interruption to the moment you’re sharing with this stranger. You glance up at him, unsure if you should go. The comfort his large frame is intoxicating on its own. 

“It’s okay, Chickie. I’ll be here,” he gently touches your lower back. 

You nod, smiling up at him gently, allowing Grace to pull you toward the small staircase leading to the bathrooms. The walls of the corridor are riddled with graffiti, old dollar bills and questionable amounts of gum.

Grace pulls you past and inconspicuous second bar (what kind of dive bar has a second floor? Who do they think they are, Le Cirque?) and through the crowd to the bathroom. 

The alcohol never feels like it hits until you come face to face with yourself in the dingy bathroom mirror. Despite your long history with drinking, (hellloooo football games in 10th grade drinking Burnett’s from the bottle) every heavy drinking night feels like the first time. You wait for Grace to finish up before hovering yourself over the toilet, unwilling to touch skin to porcelain. 

You both wash up, taking a moment to sniff each other’s pits, fluff each other’s hair and dab a damp paper towel on the backs of your necks to cool you off.

The burst of hot air upon opening the bathroom door is enough to knock you out, but, nevertheless, the two of you persist through the throng of bodies that appeared out of nowhere. You’re the blind leading the blind at this point, but you drag Grace’s half-limp body to the top of the steps, peering out over the crowd in hopes of spotting your guy.

You trudge down the stairs, the pounding of the wood reverberating straight to your brain, heartbeat picking up when you don’t spot him towering over the group anymore. You situate Grace on a stool next to biker man, silently nodding at him to watch over your friend before finding Jen, Christina and Marcie. 

“Jen, where did that group of guys go?” You tried to keep cool, not wanting to fall victim to her taunting, even if she’s inebriated. 

“Mmmm, who? OH! The bachelor party. They left.”

Your heart drops, cursing yourself for letting your guard down. Of course it was only a love connection on your end. As a last ditch effort, you look over the crowd, only to find biker man exiting the bar into the night.

“O-oh, um, did the — did the taller guy say anything before they went?”

“No, the groom was pretty fucked up. They basically carried him out. Sorry, Chickie.” 

Marcie suddenly bursts between the two of them, placing her arms around their shoulders.

“I’m ready for some McDonald’s!”

~

Why the fuck are you at the internet cafe? 

It’s 1:30 PM on a Wednesday, and your boss thinks you’re on a lunch break. After being talked off the ledge by your girlfriends while flipping through the Sunday Times after draining a bottle of cabernet, you decided to take matters into your own hands. 

Your mystery man from the bar hasn’t left your mind all week. Replaying the initial interaction — a bit cold, on both of your parts. But, the way he so easily opened you up and turned your night around kept you hooked. 

In a city of 7 million, the odds of finding him again were slim to none, so you assessed your options:

Going back to Mick’s.

Recruiting biker man to scour the city with you Ghostbusters style. He gave you his business card for exactly that purpose. 

Or writing a missed connections ad on Craigslist.

So, here you are, sat between a high schooler instant messaging on AOL and an old man using Ask Jeeves to diagnose a very personal medical issue. Taking a deep breath, you start the ad.

Every stroke of the keyboard was painful. This is so insanely out of your comfort zone, but the longing in your chest is too strong to ignore. The ad is the perfect mixture of nondescript and casual, but gives enough context that even if he were as dense as his friend group, he’d know it was him. 

Pressing post, you immediately exit the window, paying your $0.75 for internet time and a print out and fly out the door, a bell jingling in the path of your haste. You shove the ad in in the book in your purse and stomp down the street. The old man makes eye contact with you through the window, snarling a bit at your startling movement. It makes you want to yell at him through the window to go see a fucking doctor!

The heels you have on were not made for walking; exactly the opposite of what that insufferable Carrie Bradshaw promotes on that new show. It’ll be off the air soon enough. Reluctantly, you call a cab and head back to the office in hopes of taking your mind off the possibilities — a happy ending, or heartbreak.

~

The nervous tapping of your foot echos across the marble floor of Effie’s Café. Arriving 20 minutes early, you rotated back and forth between the wicker chairs at this clearly 4 person table. Should you face the door? He’ll see you in the daylight and make a run for it. How about your back to the door? No, he could actually be a murderer and attack you from behind. From the side? No, these are standing jeans only. 

Sigh. You decide to push your anxieties aside and order a glass of white wine, sitting with your back to the door to play up the mystery a bit more. One glass turns into two, and now you’re slightly sloshed for a Thursday at lunch time, hoping and praying you unlock the sweet, cool-girl personality you left him a taste of. 

The café starts to pick up for the lunch rush, so you don’t immediately recognize the familiar deep voice of someone is trying to get your attention from behind you. 

“Ladybug, is that you?”

Ladybug?

Slowly shifting your head to look over your right shoulder, your heart flutters at the tattooed forearm attached to the hand gripping the back of your chair. Only this time, the arm is attached to a tall, clean-shaven, blonde man. 

You look up, making contact with his blue eyes. Now you’re certain that mystery man had green eyes. The man in front of you smiles down at you as he pulls his chair out to sit. It’s like he’s not even recognizing everything wrong about this situation. 

He’s the wrong guy. You’re the wrong girl. Ladybug is the wrong nickname. 

“Um, hi. I’m no—

“It’s nice to meet you, officially. I’m Garrett,” he extends his hand to shake yours. You stare at it, dumbfounded and scheming your next move. 

“I think there may be a misunderstanding. I was trying to contact someone —.” 

“No misunderstanding. You sounded like a sweet girl in the ad. I’m just lucky my impression matches you physically. You’re stunning” 

No. Nope. Absolutely not. It’s not an honest mistake. He didn’t happen to speak to a girl in a dive bar with a silly nickname and tell stupid jokes just to get them to smile. This is the epitome of all of the warnings your parents gave you on computer safety. Sucking in a sharp breath, you locate the nearest exit, and look around in the most subtle way possible to flag down an employee. 

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you do for work?”

“I think I need to leave, this was a mistake —.”

“Mm, I don’t think so,” Garrett fakes interest in your unsettled body language. “You asked for this.”

You finally spot your server, grabbing crumpled bills from your purse to give to her on your way out. Garrett grabs your wrist firmly, preventing you from reaching your wallet. “I’d like to get to know you. We just got here.”

Panic. A feeling you’ve felt everyday since you could remember. Whether it’s being forgotten at a superstore, or sending an incorrect document, destroying the contract for your largest client, panic claws its way out of your central nervous system at any opportunity. 

You look down at your shaking hands, trying to conjure up a plan. Do you run? Scream? Throw your wine at him as a distraction? This man, while he hasn’t intimidated you physically, he’s loud and clear with his intentions. 

“Hi! Welcome to Effie’s. I’m Alannah. Can I start you off with any drinks?”

Garrett smiles up at the young girl sweetly, opening his mouth to speak. You decide to play it cool for another few minutes to minimize the risk of retaliation.

“I’ll have an iced coffee — black. and the lady will have a green tea with lemon.”

You scowl, as if you’re more concerned about what he ordered for you than the fact that you feel threatened by his presence all together. Luckily, you still had your glass of wine from when you thought you would find mystery man. 

“Great, I’ll be right back. Let me know if you have any questions about the menu,” Alannah smiles at both of you before spinning on her heel, ponytail flinging over her shoulder. 

Your jaw is tight, unwilling to make eye contact with your dining partner. Your heartbeat has steadies out tremendously as more people filter into the café. Remaining casual, you begin to unroll the silverware placed neatly on the teal plate. You place the napkin on your lap, lining up the two forks and knife on the table. 

Garrett has been talking this entire time, unbeknownst to you as you gather the courage to carry out your plan. You smile tightly, nodding to give some semblance that everything this okay. Glancing at your fork, you lock your eyes on his left hand sitting limply on the table, moving every so often as he drones on. 

You send him one last sickeningly sweet smile before grabbing the fork nonchalantly. Twisting it around in your fingers, you inhale deeply and swiftly sink the salad fork into the flesh of his hand and shoot out of your chair, purse in hand. The chair scoots across the floor and ultimately tumbles to the side of you bringing on some stares from other diners. Alannah screams, dropping the drinks and covering her mouth, staring at the fork sticking out of his forehand. Adrenaline pumping through your blood stream, you waste no time taking your platform sandals off and making a run for it. Disgusting New York City streets be damned.

Garrett is red in the face, gritting his teeth as he screams after you, a death grip on his now injured hand. Diners and workers of the café gather around him, giving you an extra few seconds to escape. 

Flying down 96th street, you expertly weave through the Upper West Side lunch crowd, feeling every wad of gum and broken beer bottle under your feet. Eventually, as your adrenaline-induced track meet is quickly dying out, so you stop on the corner between the flower shop and laundromat. 

The street looks familiar. The bodega with the yellow awning illuminated by the red ‘Bar’ sign to its right.  The sounds of the city are drowned out by your heavy breathing, but you’re certain your heart stops beating for a moment.

Mick’s Bar.

Look at it this way — a full circle moment. You can wash away the utter shit show of a day and raise one last glass to close the chapter of pining over the mystery man. Somber mood and slightly sweating, you bow your head and head down the clump of 3 steps to the street-level establishment. 

The smell of stale beer and popcorn infiltrate your senses, sending you straight back to that night. Retracing your steps to the end stool, you sigh, pulling it toward you with your still bare feet. You’ll find a way to soak them in acid later.

The same bartender acknowledges you, most likely not even remembering your previous interactions. You're glad he doesn’t think you’re some pathetic woman trying to chase after a man. You are, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

The barman places a coaster in front of you, silently waiting for your order. 

“Gin and tonic, please. A double. With lime.” 

He nods, ducking down to tend to his well, filling up a pint glass with ice and heavy-pouring the gin. You sigh again, gently grabbing the back of your neck and rubbing the muscle, willing away the inevitable tension headache coming later. 

There aren’t many people in here; Just a few couriers and other non-office workers. You’re slightly envious of them being able to spend their days outside of a beige and cold office building. Quiet chatter amongst them stops when the bell chimes above the door. 

Like straight out of a movie, Biker man stumbles through the door, his leather vest swiping the handle of the door. The bartender snickers and shakes his head as he pushes your drink towards you, indicating he wants your credit card. You nod, handing over your MasterCard, expecting no other interactions in return. 

He looks at Biker man. Then you. Then back to Biker man, nodding his head knowingly. You’re not sure what this means, but you're trying to erase the last 2 hours from your memory.

Biker man’s thick, heavy boots thunder across the wood plank floors, sending the rickety stools into a rattling chorus of squeaks. He coughs up what sounds like a lung and waits for his beer, not even acknowledging the bartender. He’s now a stool over from you, staring at the screen portraying some sort of horse race. 

Taking one long gulp of your drink, you turn to face him, the liquid courage hitting you immediately. 

“Sir? Hi, I’m so sorry to interrupt. I’m not sure if you remember me—” you trail off when he doesn’t even face you, his salt and pepper beard making it hard to read his face.

Waving slightly, you confirm you’re in fact talking to him, so now his bloodshot eyes make contact with yours over the frame of his sunglasses. 

“I, um, I was here with a few of my girlfriends, um, the other night. A-and I met a man—”

“Tall fella? Came in with a group of guys and they drug one out of here like a corpse?”

“Yes! Yes, oh my goodness, I can’t believe you remember.”

“My bar sweetie, I need to remember who comes in.”

“You’re Mick?” you choke out in disbelief. You want to laugh, because the imaginary life you made up for biker man did not live up to reality.

For your whole life, you tended to grasp onto little moments with strangers that others wouldn’t think twice about.

You still remember the Walmart greeter that waited with you until your mom came back to get you. You remember your sixth grade bus driver who pulled you aside to give you a pep talk when the older girls picked on you. You remember the woman next to you on a plane who held your hand during turbulence. You grow attached, dreaming up scenarios that are probably so far from the truth. It's harmless fun for you.

It’s why you’re clinging onto your mystery man. There are alarm bells going off in your brain you've never felt before, refusing to let it be a fleeting moment. 

“I’ve owned this place for 35 years. Seen everything you can imagine happen here. Celebrations of life, death, marriage. Lots of heartbreak.”

You’re not sure if you’re too tipsy, but his words make you want to cry. What is he trying to say?

“Teddy, two rounds here, please,” Mick signals the barman who promptly whips up four… lemon drop shots? Biker man — Mick— didn’t strike you as the type to take shots like a sorority girl.

He shrugs, pushing two shots over to you. You clink your tiny shot glasses together, tossing your head back and licking the sugar on the rim. 

Both of you push your glasses toward Teddy and reach for the second, as the bell jingles above the door. With the bar being street level, the sun reflects off the cars outside, slightly blinding you as someone walks in, footsteps thumping.

You and Mick continue on, throwing back your next shot. You wince, this one slightly more lemony than the previous. Mick exhales loudly, shaking his head.

“Careful, Chickie. It’s too early to be having this much fun.”

You freeze, unwilling to believe this is happening. It has to be an alcohol induced hallucination.

“Uhm, ah, hi,” you stutter, looking between the three men staring at you. You feel like you’re on an episode of Maury. 

“Sweetheart, he’s been in here every day at the same time to ask Teddy if you’ve stopped in to try and find him, too. The shots were just to ease your anxiety since I knew he’d be in on his lunch hour.”

Due to a short circuit in your brain, you can’t decide who you’re more mad at — Mick, or Teddy. They could’ve told you mystery man has been searching for you, too.

The mystery man blushes, sticking his hands in the pockets of his pleated khakis, staring down at his worn Dockers loafers. His striped rugby shirt reminds you of Steve from Blue’s Clues, but you're willing to over look that.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Teddy smiles gently, ushering Mick to the office. 

The man sits on the stool previously occupied by Mick, and as he sits, he uses his ankle to pull your stool closer to him.

“I’m Harry. Nice to officially meet you,” he smiles, making two dimples you didn’t previously notice appear. 

“Chick—Y/N. I’m Y/N,” you giddily grab his massive hand, shaking it gently.

He sighs, taking a swig of his Budweiser, “So, let’s get this out in the open. How pathetic am I for coming back here every day for a week straight to ask about you?” 

Cackling softly, you shake your head, ducking down to retrieve your bag from the hook under the bar. You pull out your copy of A Beautiful Mind, pulling the slip of paper out from the slightly worn pages. 

“Not as pathetic as this,” You hand it to him, waiting for him to open it. “You ever read the Missed Connections ads on Craigslist?”

Harry smiles, reading the ad. He’s glad you remember the small details of that night like he does. He’s not making it up in his head. 

“I don’t have a computer. But, they usually print these in the Times on Sundays. I would’ve seen it, but about a week late,” he giggles, his green eyes meeting yours when he looks up. 

“Well, I’m glad this nightmare has a happy ending. I went to the café, and a random man showed up pretending he was you! I ran out of there so fast. I’m scared to think about what would’ve happened if I stayed.”

Harry grabs your lower back, the light touch comforting you as you recount the horrors.

“Chickie, I’m so sorry that happened. The internet is scary. I’m honestly terrified of what it’ll be like in 30 years.”

“And to make it worse, he called me Ladybug. Ladybug! I’m clearly a Chickie,” you giggle. “I’ve been dying to hear another one of your terrible jokes.”

Instead of opening his mouth, he leans in to place a chaste kiss on your dried lips. 

The alcohol is hitting you much harder than it should be, so you kiss back, forgetting about the entire audience in the bar. You can’t even begin to care that you’ll be two hours late returning to work, drunk as a skunk.

You’ll blame it on fate.

~ New York City, 2000

“I wish I could travel back in time to prevent us from signing a lease on a 5th floor walk-up,” you sigh, plopping down with your boyfriend on the red bean bag he got from Sears. He’s out of breath, having just carried up 3 boxes while you followed behind him clutching lamps, hangers and basically anything you could get your small hands on.

Harry kisses your slightly sweaty hair, petting any of the strays out of your eyes.

“You’ll have a really toned butt by Christmas. Not a bad investment on my end,” Harry laughs as he dodges your sharp elbow digging into his side.

“I can’t even fathom getting groceries and making dinner. Okay if we order in?”

“You don’t want to meet our new bodega guy?”

“He’ll see me at my worst soon enough. Let’s leave him wondering a little longer. I do love a bacon, egg and cheese on a bagel when I’m hungover,” you giggle, inhaling Harry’s natural scent. If you weren’t so exhausted, you’d hop into bed (your bare mattress on the floor of your 800 square foot apartment) right now. 

“Sure, baby. We can order in,” he pats your thigh, signaling you to let him stand up. He stretches, examining the room.

His heart swells at the perfect mix of the two of of you in your first apartment together. Your excessive shoe collection. His beloved Gibson guitar that he serenaded you with your favorite song on one of your early dates. He sang Lady by the Styx, not realizing you meant Lady by the Commodores. But, you didn’t have the heart to tell him until your first anniversary. 

Now you’re here, two years later and stronger than ever. He spots a film strip hanging on the fridge from Marcie’s wedding. You hogged the booth for well over 15 minutes, kissing, touching, exploring.

You begged for a plus one at the last second, forcing her to tell her uncle he can’t bring a date. Neither of you feel bad. Next to that film strip is the photo Christina took of the two of you the night you met, held up by a Mick's Bar magnet. She didn't get the film developed until weeks after the bachelorette.

The photo would've helped your search efforts!

The empty walls are begging to be filled with canvases, knick knacks and music posters. You learned Harry works at a music recording studio as a fill-in guitarist and a part-time artist. His art style itches something in your brain you can’t describe — falling in love with every piece he comes home with. 

The boxes will consume you for a few weeks, but he’s excited to be taking this next step with you. 

Harry tosses the Sunday Times at you, “Why don’t you read me the missed connections from this week while I put some stuff away. You did a lot to organize the closet this morning, so I don’t want you to move for the rest of the night.”

Harry putters with the dishes, praying they’re clean enough to go in the cupboard. He's haphazardly putting things away, trying to calm his nerves.

“Ooh, yes. I missed last week,” you flip to the section, adjusting the paper in your hands so you can see better. Clearing your throat, you read aloud.

“I was reading a book on the Q train, you were the cute woman sitting next to whom I assume was your mom, but you get kept sending glances my way when she wasn’t looking. I get it, no matter what your age, it’s weird to flirt with your mom next to you. I got off at Atlantic and you shot me a smile. Dunno why I’m even posting here lol almost zero chance of you seeing this. Oh well, gotta try at least.”

Harry smiles, glancing at you as you peruse the page. He can’t pretend to be busy for much longer. You giggle before starting the next one.

“Did you lose an entire ham? It's a bone-in ham, not sure it's obvious from the photo. It's been eaten on some parts, but there's definitely some serious meat left on it. Looks like it was pretty tasty in its day.”

He laughs, his leg anxiously bouncing against the lower cabinet. He leans on the counter for support, gently swiping over his sweat pant pocket. Closing his eyes, he waits.

Scanning the page, you gasp.

You drop the paper in your lap, watching your boyfriend leave your tiny kitchen with the black and white checker floor tile to kneel in front of you on your ratty bean bag chair. Your hands cover your mouth as some tears threaten to spill over your eyes. It’s like everything is in slow motion. 

Harry’s tearing up, too, as he pulls a velvet box from his pocket, opening it slowly to reveal an emerald cut diamond ring on a simple gold band. Elegant and timeless, like you.

He swallows thickly, finding the courage to speak.

“I could’ve gone on and on in the ad, but I figured I’d save it for now,” he laughs nervously. You still have your hands in front of your face, scared to move them in case this is a dream.

“Since the night we met, I knew we were meant for each other. I haven’t had many moments in life where I’ve made the right decision, but I can say with my whole heart that I love you and want you to be my wife.”

You sob slightly, still donning a wide grin. You let him finish.

“I would’ve married you the day we found each other again at Mick’s. But, I didn’t want to scare you,” he laughs again, a small tear escaping.

“Chickie, will you marry me?”

“Oh, Harry,” you blubber, jumping to your knees to wrap your arms around his neck. “Of course! Yes, yes, please.”

Pushing him to the ground, you lay across him, peppering kisses on his face and neck.

When you’ve both calmed down, you’re laying in between his legs, leaned back against the bean bag, basking in the moment. You haven’t even called any friends or family, yet. There’s an uncorked bottle of wine on the floor that you’ve been taking swigs of, absolutely over the moon and tipsy.

"Why did you let me read the one about a ham before asking me the most important question of your life?"

He kisses you to shut you up. You sigh contently, thinking about your future.

After some silence, Harry quietly asks, “Do you think we can force Mick to become an ordained minister?”

You cackle, turning your head to look back at him.

“That was the first thing that came to my mind.”

________________

EEEEEE! I HOPE YOU LIKED IT :))))))) IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE ABOUT OLD REFERENCES EVEN THO I WAS A BB DURING THAT TIME

Pls let me know what you think <3

ALSO BIKER MAN IS THE REAL MVP I WAS SO HYPE TO KEEP REFERENCING HIM LOL

[2-dsimp]

Monster gang takes darlings food as a joke, as darling stared at them with "you're severely fucked" look, this music plays.

https://youtu.be/yoc1RQ0tfMs?si=ngx6OkTcme5qI6cr

The only ones who’d dare to take their darlings food would be Lynx, The Poltergeist, and Rivius

——————————————～～～～—～～～——————～—

《The harpy: Ate your food by accident》

Lynx: “Hey my Muse thanks for leaving me these snacks! I was really starving after today’s show…Muse?”

【His feathers fluffed up from seeing how daunting you looked as you stepped closer to him with a menacing smile. Instinctively he took a step back from how silent you’ve gotten.】

Lynx: “Um chicky? Talk to me please? You’re kinda scarin— Ahn! Those feathers are sensitive! Wait don’t groom it yet they’re still Ack!”

【Gets punished via grooming of his highly sensitive plumage.】

————————/———————-/—————-/——-

《The Archdevil: Acting like your food critic 》

Rivius: “Hmm, your dish was somewhat adequate could be more satisfactory for my consumption. But it’ll do for now.”

【He coquettishly dabbed his handkerchief on the corner of his lips. Completely missing the look of bafflement on your face from him taking a large chunk out of your lunch. That you’ve packed for yourself prior today.】

Rivius: “What is it Attendant? You look as if you’ve been banished to the nine hells… What do you mean by why did I eat it? What’s yours is mine, as stated in the contract don’t be so daft now.”

【His self entitlement completely disregarded how you were feeling froggy and was about to leap across the table right at his elite ass. 】

————————/———————-/—————-/——-

《The Poltergeist : Being a bastard and terrorizing you on purpose》

???: “Hey sugartits that steak you made was fire, thanks for the food~”

【The ghost had a shit eating grin as he used a toothpick to show off how he did in fact eat your premium steak. That you made to spoil yourself later coming back from a grueling day of work.】

???: “I didn’t know you cared so much about this nobody to make one of your prized steaks just for me~ especially since it was the last one in the fridge. Oh how you warm my soul~”

【He was snickering at your pissed expression as he dodged the sea salt you hurled at him. While he stuck out his glowing tongue wiggling it crudely in your direction.】

————————/———————-/—————-/——-

Don’t have a name for the Poltergeist so as always name suggestions using these letters would be appreciated~ (>^ω^<)

→ HPSVWX

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 3]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 |

words: 9.1k

You change aspects of your outfit about seven times before you finally settle on something you deem acceptable.

You know the meeting isn't about you, but you can't help but want to dress nicely. But not too nicely that this will no longer be a casual lunch. You choose one of your nicer t-shirts with your nice jeans and try to be fancy by doing a French tuck, but kind of ruin the vibe by pairing it all with your walking sneakers. Minnie picked them out and they are obnoxiously neon orange, but they are incredibly comfortable and supportive. It's warm out, so you do something with your hair that is simple and won't get in the way. 

You even dabble in some make-up. Nothing fancy but enough that you no longer look a little too tired. 

Minnie, of course, is perceptive to your nerves and also wants to Dress Up. This, of course, means her Princess dress and you want her in a good mood, so you turn your daughter into a giant pink and yellow cupcake. She is absolutely thrilled to be able to wear it out so getting all packed up and ready to go goes smoothly.  You debate telling her that you are going to meet someone but ultimately decide against it. She's already picked up on how nervous you are. If you tell her she will be meeting a new person, she might start getting upset and you aren't going to chance ruining her mood. So you bundle her into her stroller and start towards the diner at a quarter 'til eleven.

You want to get there early and get all settled before Matt arrives - maybe get a few doodles in on the sketchbook you've packed so Minnie is nice and distracted. It is a pretty day out and you take your time as you walk, not wanting to get all sweaty after dressing up. 

It is a route you've taken many times before, so you let your mind wander as you stroll. 

You had needed a full day to process that you had found Minnie's father and he wanted to be in both of your lives. It recontextualized so much. You had spent your entire evening reading 'how to co-parent' articles and making lists - you now had about three pages filled with your daughter's likes and dislikes, contact information for anyone Matt might need to reach out to, and multiple different schedules. Your plan is to make him a huge binder, filled with whatever he might need to know. 

You don't know if you are going overboard or not but this is how you are dealing with everything. 

You don't exactly have anyone you can reach out to to talk with. You aren't close enough with anyone who you would feel comfortable opening up to about Matt. You know you should probably find a therapist but there is no way you can afford one.

To be fair, you aren't even sure how you feel about everything. You put your emotions aside to deal with all the practical changes and to focus on your daughter's well-being. Despite all your anxieties, everything has been going as well as you think it should go. You've only had two conversations, but you are hoping the trend continues. You desperately want Minnie to smothered with people who adore her because you never had that and you pray Matt wants the same. 

As you cross into Hell's Kitchen, your heart starts beating a little harder in your chest. You can't fight your nerves, so you try to channel them into something productive. 

"Do you know where we're going, Mouse?" You ask as you wait at a corner.

"Chicky waffles!" is the excited response, making you chuckle.

"Exactly, we're gonna go have some chicky waffles," you say with a little smile. Chicken and waffles is a featured menu item at the diner and for some reason considered your daughter's Celebration Meal. "And if you aren't too sleepy afterwards, we can do something fun."

Minnie gives an excited wiggle in her stroller, "I wanna see the duckies!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, we can go see the duckies after lunch." You are hoping the promise of something she wants to do will come with the desire to behave, even if she starts to get fussy. You know you can't stop a tantrum if meeting Matt does truly upset her, but you can try your best to deter them. 

You are being overly precautious. You know you are, but you couldn't turn your mind off if you tried. 

You've long accepted your fate and just try to navigate your anxiety the best you can.

As Minnie lists off what she's named all the ducks, you debate coming up with some talking points for her and Matt. You doubt they have similar interests, though you know that doesn't mean much - as you don't have similar interests as your daughter - but animals and food are easy discussions. You worry when it comes to art, things may get a little harder.

You have no idea how to explain blindness to Minnie. You are really hoping that Matt has that experience and can help her understand. After all, you don't actually know how much he can see. You know he needs Braille - his flirting at the holiday party all those years ago had been to ask you to read the drink menu to him - and uses a cane, but that doesn't mean he can't see shapes and such. You definitely do not want to speak for him about his abilities.

Maybe afterwards you can look up some videos to help Minnie understand better. There's a plethora of resources online, you just need to know what to look for - a jumping off point. Blind parents with Seeing children are not a new thing and you bet you can find a bunch of tactile art projects beyond folding paper that would suit Minnie's age. 

The diner comes into view and you sigh in relief over the lack of a crowd. Maybe the Fates had smiled on you and everyone else would find somewhere else to have lunch. There is no one standing around outside, so you use the space to take Minnie out of her stroller. Instantly she tries to help you unpack, dragging her backpack out of the little storage area under the seat. You grab your purse and a collapsible booster seat, then start to fold up the stroller while she patiently waits.

She's still too small to pull open the heavy glass door of the diner, but that doesn't stop her from trying. She tugs on it twice before you are able to help her. She beams up at you and you return your little girl's smile as you enter the diner.

"Oh, well don't you look special," the waitress, Linda, says as she comes around the counter with some menus. You are convinced she must live above the diner because she is always there - but it also means Minnie is comfortable with her, so your daughter does a little twirl to show off her dress.

"We're gonna see the ducks!" 

"I see," Linda coos, "Well in that case, you're going to need a nice lunch to fill you up. Lemme see now, it looks like your booth is all open, so why don't we get you all settled in?"

Minnie takes off across the diner to the booth while you lean the stroller in the corner where you've been told you can store it. Once that is done, you head over to the booth. 

Linda places a menu where you will be sitting and as you slide into the seat next to Minnie, you ask for an additional menu in Braille. She looks a little surprised at the request, but doesn't question it and the menu is quickly placed across from you.

Minnie doesn't pay attention to the second menu at all, focused on pulling out her crayons and paper. She knows as long as she doesn't make a mess she's allowed to play on the table here and she doesn't waste any time getting right to it. 

"What do you want to drink, sweet pea?" Linda asks. 

"Lemonade, please, thank you!" Minnie answers like a little princess. Linda smiles at the response and asks the same to you, without the term of endearment. 

"An iced tea, please," you reply. You wait until she turns to go back behind the counter to pop open the booster seat. You set it on the seat beside Minnie and she carefully climbs into it before going back to laying out her crayons. 

"Do you want chicky waffles?" You ask Minnie. She shakes her head, ignoring you in favor of starting to scribble. You wait a few moments, giving her a chance to think and reply but that doesn't happen. You say her name, then repeat the question.

"No, I want grilled cheese," she says, looking up, "with fruit. Please. Thank you."

"With fruit?" You confirm, a little amused at the declaration. She nods and goes back to her work. 

You refuse to check the time. You know as soon as you do you'll spiral into an anxiety attack, so instead, you drag the menu over to you and start reading it over. You don't really know what you want - your stomach is more nerves than hunger. 

Linda drops off your drinks with a little smile, "I'll be back for your orders."

"Thank you," both you and Minnie say. 

You fall into a silence, half looking over the menu and half watching Minnie drag her crayon over the page. She's got the yellow one in her little fist and you wonder what could be going on in that head of hers. You hope her thoughts are good ones - all about ducks and cupcakes and magical things and no worries exist.

The bell above the door to the diner chimes after about two minutes and you look up as Matt walks in. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart pounds hard. 

There is no argument about whether or not Matt is physically attractive - he's gorgeous and could easily be a model if he wanted to be - but you can tell that Effort was put in that morning. 

His scruff is trimmed down to a neat five o'clock shadow and his hair is a little fluffy like he's run his hand through it a few times. He's sporting a leather jacket, black tee shirt, slacks, and wing tips - he looks casual but cool. He's so incredibly handsome and for a moment you question if you're right about him being Minnie's father.

There is no way this man took you to bed. You think you're pass-ibly attractive, but he's on a whole other level of hot. 

You are so busy ogling him it doesn't register right away you need to alert him to your whereabouts. Linda makes a bee line right for him, exchanging words you can't hear. She turns to look at you, one brow raising up in question. In response, you raise your hand in acknowledgement. She nods then leads Matt over to your booth. You finally notice he is holding a pink medium sized gift bag and you can't help but wonder what is inside.

He stops at the edge of the table, brushing his fingers over it to find the boundaries. You speak first, to let him know where you are.

"Hi." 

It comes out far shyer than you mean and Linda gives a pointed 'are you serious' face.

It doesn't matter because he replies just as shyly, "Hi." 

"Um, the seat to your right is empty, with a menu in the middle of the table," you direct. Minnie looks up at him and you watch her watch him fold his cane and slip into the seat. You can tell she is curious, but cautious. 

"Can I get you anything to drink?" The elderly waitress asks and Matt asks for coffee. She then turns to go fetch that, leaving your new little family to finally meet each other.

You clear your throat and start the introductions, "Minnie, this is Matt. He is going to be our new friend. Can you say hi?"

She's quiet for a few seconds before mumbling out, "Hello."

Matt completely lights up at the greeting. His smile gets so big and boyishly happy you have to bite your lip so you don't break out into your own smile. 

"Hi, Minnie. It's…it's so nice to meet you." 

Your daughter presses the fist clutching the crayon to her mouth as she looks Matt over. Her little eyes dart all over his features before she turns her head to look up at you. Her brow scrunches up in a way you know means she wants to ask something, so you gently prompt her.

"Do you want to ask something, Mouse?"

She gives a barely there nod. 

"Okay. You can take your time. Is that okay, Matt?" You say, gently redirecting the conversation back to him.

"Take your time," Matt tells her, his voice so soft and sweet. Encouraging.

She squirms in her seat and you quickly offer up your hand so she can hold onto it. She grabs your hand with her non-dominant one and squeezes tightly, needing the anchor to know everything will be okay - only then does she talk, her mouth hidden behind fist and crayon. 

"You're Mommy's friend?" 

Matt nods, smile still on his face, "I am. Or I hope to be. I'd like to be your friend, too."

Minnie rocks side to side in her booster seat, still looking over Matt like she's trying to parse out his motive. Despite not being able to see her contemplating, Matt waits patiently until the next question comes.

"Is it…your Birthday?" She asks after about ten seconds.

Matt shakes his head, his smile going from bright to a little softer, "No, it's not. This," he picks up the gift bag and places it in front of Minnie on the table, "is for you."

Her head automatically turns to look up at you with big questioning eyes, silently seeking permission. You gently squeeze her hand, "You can open it."

She pulls away from you and reaches out to pull the bag closer. It's too tall on the table for her to see into, so she very very gently, like she's scared it will break, tips it over onto its side. The packing tissue matches the bag and your little one gets distracted by that for a moment. She scrunches paper so it crinkles and folds before pulling it out and handing it off to you to hold. You assume that means she wants to keep it, as she knows wrapping paper gets thrown out. To your surprise, the tissue is thicker than what you are used to - it won't rip to shreds if you look at it too hard. That must be why she wants it - it's something to play with later.

A delighted shriek rips through the diner making you and Matt and everyone else in vicinity visibly wince.

"It's Scooby!" Minnie absolutely screams, revealing what is in the bag. It is indeed a Scooby Doo plushie - one of the good quality ones that looks extremely soft to the touch. He's seated and you can tell he has weighted paws to keep him upright and he looks more like a puppy Scooby than the one from the old show, but you know that doesn't matter. 

Mouse loves him. 

She practically shoves the plush in your face to show you. "Mommy, it's Scooby!"

Her excitement makes you laugh and rub at her back, "I see. Do you like him?" She nods before smashing the plush into her chest and hugging it tightly. You smile more, "What do you say to Matt?"

Matt has the biggest smile on his face and that, plus the gift, seems to soothe Minnie's anxiety. She looks right at him, matching his smile with her own beaming one, "Thank you, Mister Matt!"

"You're welcome, sweetheart." 

You can hear the emotion in Matt's voice and it touches your heart. He looks just so happy. You get the feeling he would have been crushed if she hadn't liked the toy.

Minnie holds Scooby up and out to Matt and wiggles him back and forth, "Do you like Scooby? I love Scooby. He's my favorite - he solves mysteries! With Shaggy!"

"I haven't watched cartoons in a long time, but I remember Scooby Doo. I liked the girl with the glasses," Matt replies gently. You give a pleased hum at his response.

"Velma! That's Mommy's favorite!" Minnie exclaims, hugging her new toy again. She's so excited and wiggling with delight. You can't fight your smile as you watch her - and how could you? Matt's own smile is infectious. 

"Oh, is she?" He asks and your little girl gives another eager nod. 

"Uh-huh. 'Cause she's not scared of the monsters!"

That earns a little chuckle from both you and Matt, and he asks, "Are the monsters scary?"

"Yeah! But - but they are really just People," she screws up her face and emphasizes the word, pausing before starting again, "so they aren't Really scary." 

"Ah, I see. Velma must be pretty brave to not be scared of the monsters."

"Mommy's braver," Mouse says proudly, puffing up her chest. She puts emphasis between each word,  "Mommy's not scared of anything." 

Your cheeks burn at her declaration. 

"Is that so?" Matt asks, tilting his head a little towards you, his smile turning amused. You can tell he knows it's not true, but he won't break her illusion.

"I try to be," you say, rubbing Minnie's back again,  trying to get her to calm down just a little bit. She's too happy over the new play thing to be nervous. Matt's done good - she's going to want to talk about cartoons - at least until food comes. 

Linda has been eyeing your table and finally breaks away from the counter to come over to you, dropping off Matt's coffee then taking out her order pad. 

"Can I get y'all started on some food?"

Minnie's attention is ripped away from Scooby and she looks up at the waitress. She squirms in her seat to sit up even taller and proclaims, "I want grilled cheese. With fruit. Please. Thank you."  

She's ordered her own food from Linda before, though usually with not such confidence. You think this is part of her push to be a Big Girl. She's gotten to the age where she's started telling you she's not a baby anymore, even if you disagree, and you wonder if she's trying to impress Matt by showing that. You think it's absolutely adorable. 

You can tell Linda does, too.

"One grilled cheese with fruit for the cupcake. How about Mom?"

You consider your options and decide quickly what you want, "Let's go with a grilled cheese with french fries."

Linda jots down the order and turns her attention to Matt, "and the sir?"

"I think I'll have to round it out and get a grilled cheese with fries."

Linda laughs to herself like she's very much enjoying the free reality show she is getting. "Three grilled cheese, two fry, and one fruit coming right up. Think about what y'all want for dessert." 

You duck your head in embarrassment, knowing you are turning pink at the tease. You know she knows Matt is Minnie's father. She looks just like him and sitting there smiling together, there is no denying it. You don't need a DNA test. 

One hundred percent, Matt Murdock fathered your precious little angel.

And Linda seems to think this is the Best Thing in the World. She is absolutely thrilled and you know she's going to gossip with the cooks. 

Matt's got a blush to his cheeks as well, licking his lips shyly.

That makes you blush even more.

Minnie is totally unaware of the implications and declares she wants a sundae.

"Okay, then, I'll go get your order in so you can get that faster," Linda tells her before going to check on the next table. 

"Cupcake?" Matt questions once she steps away, raising his brow over his glasses as he does. His smile is turning into a smirk and you think he's over being shy now. At least towards you. 

"Minnie is sporting her Princess dress," you advise. You don't think his smile can get any bigger.

"A princess dress? Am I under dressed?"

You gently nudge your daughter, "Can you tell Matt about your dress?"

Minnie hugs Scooby to her chest before happily launching into a description of her dress, "It's pink! And yellow! And puffy! It has sparkles! And I can run in it."

"You can run in it?" He clarifies. The answer is a vigorous nod, so you jump in to help.

"The bottom is kind of like a tutu - lots of tulle. It only goes to her calves, so it won't drag on the ground. She looks like an upside down cupcake." You don't know if that helps at all, but he doesn't push for more information. 

"It sounds like a really good Princess dress. Does that make you the Queen?" He teases. It gets a giggle from your daughter, which only makes you blush more. He directs his next inquiry to Minnie, once she's done laughing at you.

"Can you tell me what your Mommy is wearing?"

Your little one doesn't question why Matt needs things described to him and jumps right in, always so eager to please, "Mommy's wearing her fancy pants and a pretty top and she's got pretty hair. She looks pretty." Matt makes a pleased little noise over her description, encouraging her to continue on.

You resist the urge to hide your face in your hands. Your pants aren't fancy - she just rarely sees you outside leggings and sweatpants. You are going to have to take her to nicer places so she doesn't think jeans are formal wear. And pretty? Well, Mouse thinks everything is pretty.

"Do you think Mommy's pretty?" Minnie boldly asks instead of describing you more and you feel like you are going to die. You'd much rather prefer if she was being shy right now.

"I do," he says gently and of course it makes your blush even harder. This meeting should be about him meeting Minnie, but it is apparently about them ganging up on you to explode your heart out of your chest. "My eyes got hurt when I was a kid, so I can't see through them anymore. I see things through hearing and touching. I think you're Mommy has a very pretty voice. I like how she says different words. I can't see you're Mommy rubbing your back, but if I listen I can hear it. I can't see that your Mommy is wearing a pretty shirt, but now that you told me, I know. I use my hands to find out what shapes things are and where things are around me." He demonstrates by gently, and exaggeratedly, patting the table until he finds the menu. Mouse watches in fascination as he pushes it to be between them. 

"I can't read like your Mommy can anymore with my eyes, so instead I use my fingers. Each set of bumps is a letter. It's called Braille and it's the English alphabet for people who use their fingers to read instead of their eyes."

You watch as your daughter listens to the explanation. She scrunches up her face as she processes the information, before looking down at her hands. She flexes her fingers a few times before looking back up at Matt. 

"You got hurt?" She asks. Matt nods and gives an affirmative, pulling the menu back towards him. Part of you wonders if he's explained being Blind to a child before - his words and the concepts are simple enough for your little one to grasp. You're glad you left this to him.

"Something bad got in my eyes and made them not work anymore." You know this is something your daughter understands - she's gotten things in her eyes before that made it hard for her to see. You can see the dots connecting in Mouse's mind - she rubs a little fist into her left eye like it's irritated.

"Do you need a band-aid?" Minnie asks before dropping her arm with a little gasp, "or a kissy? Mommy gives me a kissy when I get hurt." Her concern is adorable and before Matt can answer her, she's jutting her new toy out towards him again, "Scooby can give you a kissy."

You can't see Matt's eyes behind his red glasses, but you can totally tell Minnie has already got him completely wrapped around her little fingers. You don't know if it's instinct to love her or he's just charmed by her sweetness. 

"Thank you, sweetheart. I don't need one right now, it happened a long time ago. They've healed, they just don't work anymore. But if you could help tell me what things look like, I would very much appreciate that." His words are gentle and your daughter absolutely lights up over being asked to help. She loves to help.

"I can do that! I know what lots of things are!" She's practically bouncing in her seat, and deciding this is something you need to practice as well, tell Matt as such. 

He tilts his head towards you, and it might be a trick of your mind, but for a moment his smile looks a bit softer before his attention is pulled back to Minnie. She's holding up Scooby again - you think she's not going to let go of the toy for the rest of the day - and once both you and Matt are focused on her, she starts describing him the best she can. 

"He's brown and he's got a big head and he's a dog!" She turns the toy so it's back is facing Matt before telling him Scooby has black spots, "But not like Pongo. Only a little bit of spots. Pongo has.. Pongo has ten spots." She nods with authority over her assessment and you smile down at her, pride warming your heart. 

"Thank you for telling me what he looks like," Matt says gently, making your little one just beam back at him. "You're very good at it."

You lean on your fist and watch her giggle and hide her face against Scooby. You don't want her to get too embarrassed and not want to talk, so you guide the conversation to something easy for her. 

"Do you want to tell Matt about what we're going to do after lunch?" You ask, knowing it's a topic that excites her and she won't be shy, but it's also something he can relate to. 

Across the table from you, Matt leans forward a little, clearly giving all his attention to Minnie, "Are you going to do something fun after lunch?"

The question gets her to look up from trying to hide away and she nods. She pushes her drawing, which has been ignored since Matt arrived, across the table towards him. You think she doesn't fully understand the concept that Matt cannot see yet, but she'll figure it out. 

"She's sliding you her drawing," you say to try and help. You don't know if he needs more description than that - you can't remember how assistive you were during your night together. You're hoping it's another conversation you can have so you can adapt better to his life. 

Matt feels around the table in front of him until he finds the notepad and he pulls it towards him. Minnie presses her face back into her plushie as she watches him run his fingers around the paper. You are all silent as he locates one of the circles Minnie has scribbled and begins to trace it. His lips begin to twitch at the corners and you wonder what he is thinking - what he is feeling.  You hope this isn't a cruel thing - Minnie trying to show him her art. 

You can tell he can feel the indentation of the crayon being pushed into the paper and you hope it is enough. You are definitely going to look into tactile art when you get home. You don't want to risk being this cruel and embarrassing again. 

"We're gonna see the duckies," Minnie says after a beat and much to your surprise, she pushes herself up so she can reach across the table and places her finger on a circle Matt's not touching. "That's Quack." 

Matt moves his finger to brush against hers, grounding where he is then begins to trace that circle, "This one is Quack?"

"Yeah! He's yellow. And this one," she pushes her finger to the third scribble, which is more square than circle, "is Moose. He's mean." 

"He's mean?" Matt asks as he follows her finger with his own. The drawing is not very big, so he easily finds her finger again, bumping up against hers. All the yellow circles and shapes look the same to you but you know that isn't the case to your daughter and listening to her explain to Matt makes you want to pull out your camera and record the breathtaking smile he has right now.

You're sure there's plenty of time for that later. You're not going to break the moment getting out your phone.

"He bites," Minnie says wisely, like it's a warning. Matt takes it as such and nods in understanding as he follows her finger around the drawing.

"That is mean. You shouldn't bite people," Matt replies, taking in the shape of Moose. "What color is he?"

"He's yellow too," she answers, "but he's only got one feets. That's why he's mean." She carefully moves herself back so she can plop down in her seat. "Mommy says…Mommy says he can't runs away so he bites."

You turn your head a little so you can smile into your hand. Hearing her repeat something you have previously told her always makes your heart melt - she's learning and retaining and growing up. Soon, she won't be your little baby girl. 

"That's right, sweetie," you praise. "He can't run away like the other ducks, so to tell people to stay away, he bites. How do you keep from being bitten?"

Minnie screws up her face in thought and you glance at Matt to gauge his reaction. He still has his hand on the drawings, though he's stopped tracing them since she sat down, and he looks so enraptured by your daughter - his daughter. 

As if he senses you looking at him, he sends a soft smile your way. You return it, not caring that he can't see it. This happy little moment is perfect in your eyes.

"You can only pet the duckies at the zoo," Minnie says after a few moments of thinking. She looks up to you to make sure that is the correct answer and you nod, smiling down at her.

"Exactly, we can only pet the ducks at the zoo. Those ducks like to be pet. The ducks in the park don't want to be pet, so we don't touch them," you gently reinforce. 

"That is a good way to keep everyone happy," Matt agrees, moving his hand away from the notepad so he can take a drink of his coffee. 

Minnie quickly moves to mimic him and you watch as she carefully brings her glass of lemonade closer. Linda already provided a straw, so you don't need to worry about her trying to pick up the glass so you'll let her do this herself unless she asks for help. She has to sit up straight, but Mouse is able to wrap her lips around the straw and take a few sips.

Then of course, as soon as she's done she holds Scooby up to the straw and pushes his muzzle against it a little too hard. Your hand flies out to stabilize the glass before it can wobble too much. You don't chastise her, as she did nothing wrong, and simply hold the lemonade while she plays.

"Slurp slurp slurp," Minnie whispers to herself before 'walking' the toy back into her lap. 

"Do you like watching the ducks?" Matt asks once she's done, bringing her focus back, and instead of nodding, your little one makes Scooby nod for her before she turns him over and starts messing with his weighted paws.

"They're funny. They have lots of fights. And put their butts up in the water." You try to not huff at her description, as she is not exactly wrong. Part of you wants to jump in and explain what she means, but you want her to bond with Matt. You don't want her to rely on you as a go-between for explaining things to one another. They need to learn each other's language. 

"They put their butts up?" Matt asks bewildered and you don't know if it's genuine or played up for Minnie. 

Either way, your little girl giggles, "When they go down in the water. They go butt up!" She looks up at Matt then turns her plush over so his tail is pointed towards the ceiling, "like this!"

You do decide to intervene at this point, tapping on Minnie's shoulder so she looks up to you, "Matt can't see with his eyes, remember? You need to tell him what it looks like or let him feel."

You can see the little wheels turning behind her eyes as she mentally puts the pieces together. She looks back to him then plonks Scooby face down, ass up on her notepad. 

"Like this," she repeats before patting the sides of the plushie. She then leans back in her seat and smiles at Matt, proud of herself. You bite your lip, waiting to see what Matt does. 

He doesn't push for or request more description, instead quickly finding the edge of the notepad, then feeling over Scooby. You're pretty sure he's putting on a show of patting over the toy by the way it's making Minnie giggle. 

"Do you know why they put their butts up?" He asks and you wonder how much longer you will be talking of duck butts. It's cute, but you are also in public. Matt seems to not care at all so you push aside any embarrassment creeping at the edge of your psyche. 

They both absolutely deserve this.

Your little one shakes her head with a 'not-uh' at Matt's question. You've told her why before, but you are sure she's forgotten - it is not useful information to her three year old brain. 

"It's so they can get food underwater," he says as he flips Scooby over so he's sitting properly again. "They float on the water, but their food is underneath them." He bounces Scooby lightly, like he's floating in water. As she watches and listens, Mouse sticks her little hands into her mouth. "They have to dive down to get it, because they don't have hands to pick it up," he demonstrates by tipping the stuffed dog forward, so he's once again face down ass up. "So they end up sticking their butts out of the water. They look for food like this."

As he finishes his explanation, he pushes Scooby towards Minnie, pretending to make him snuffle and sniff for her, including making the sound himself. She hides her face behind her hands, giggling loudly, "There's no food here!"

"Oh no, there's not?" Matt asks in an overly dejected voice, tilting Scooby back up so he's sitting. He lets go of the plush and to keep up the fun atmosphere, you quickly pick it up instead.

You bounce the toy towards your daughter, teasing lightly, "is he going to have to gobble you up instead?"

"No!" She mock wails, lightly kicking her feet and still hiding her face, "I'm not food!"

"Are you sure?" Matt asks, leaning forward a little bit. "You look like food to me."

"Nom nom nom," you say in a deep voice, having Scooby's muzzle bump into her arm repeatedly. His pun doesn't dawn on you until Mouse starts squirming around and giggling.

"Noooo!"

"Well, looks like I'm here right in time," Linda declares as she very suddenly appears at the end of the table holding a tray with your orders. You flush in embarrassment, instinctively moving to sit up straight and behave and pulling Scooby into your lap. You feel like a misbehaving kid who got caught playing in class.

Matt has the most shit eating grin on his face, like he doesn't care who saw him playing with Minnie. He probably doesn't - this is his first time meeting her and it's going so well. 

Your meals are placed in front of you, with Linda narrating to Matt where his plate is and where the food is on the plate when she sets it in front of him as she collects the menus.

"Thank you, Linda," Matt says from across the booth, managing to look and sound boyishly charming.

Again, almost instantly, Minnie copies him, giving her biggest and brightest, "Thank you, Miss Linda!" 

"Thank you, Linda," you echo with your own little smile because you don't want to be rude and because you know she'll fucking love it. 

"Well isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever seen," she coos at you and you have to bite your lip so you don't laugh. You just know she is going to corner you at some point and demand answers. But that is for later, right now you are in your own bubble.

Beside you, Minnie helpfully pipes up, "Mister Matt can't see, you have to tell him what you see. Or let him feel." 

You close your eyes tightly so you don't cringe or laugh. Your little Mouse is trying her best to do what she has been taught and you can't fault her at all. Linda gives a surprised yet amused laugh while Matt addresses your daughter. You can hear the smile in his voice.

"Thank you, Minnie, that's right. She's talking about us and I know that, so she doesn't need to explain. I appreciate your help in telling her, though." You look over to your daughter to gauge her reaction and she is still all smiles and Love.

"You're welcome!" She brightly replies then turns her attention to you and the toy in your lap, "Mommy, can I have Scooby?"

Linda gently taps the edge of the table with her knuckles as she steps away from the table, "Y'all enjoy your food and let me know if y'all need anything else." Her grin is enormous, and you'll have to give a nice tip for not completely embarrassing you.

You thank her again and once she's left, you pass Scooby back to Minnie, with a gentle reminder, "Put him to the side, so he won't get dirty." She nods in understanding, taking him and plopping him on the other side of her booster seat. Then she leans on the table and stretches her little arms until she can grab the napkin holder on the other end of the booth. Before you realize what she's doing, she yanks a handful of napkins free and falls back into her seat with an "oof".

"Are you alright?" Matt quickly asks, reaching his hand out over the table towards her like he can actually catch her from there if she falls. 

His instinct to protect her makes your heart sing as you answer, "she's okay. Mouse, if you can't reach, you can ask for help." You still pat over her to make sure she's completely okay and it causes her to squirm in her seat.

"I can reach," is her slightly pouty reply. You don't want to get her cranky when she's been doing so well, so you let this pass and pull your hands away.

"Okay, sweetheart, just be careful, okay?" 

Instead of answering, she ignores you and slowly she starts to unfold the napkins one by one. You have no idea what she is doing so you just watch. For a moment - then you remember Matt has no idea what is going on and you try your hand at narrating, "She grabbed napkins and now she is unfolding them."

"Why are you doing that, sweetheart?" He asks your daughter, brow knitting up and mouth turning into a frown. 

She looks up at him as she pulls open another napkin and lays it flat on the table, saying like it's the most obvious thing, "Scooby doesn't have a lap."

"Scooby…doesn't have a lap?" Matt clarifies, clearly confused. You are as well until Minnie turns and starts draping the napkins over the plushie, covering him with them like a patchwork ghost. 

Then you get it. "He doesn't have a lap to hold his napkin." 

Realization dawns on Matt's face and he huffs in delight, "Of course." He makes a big show of taking the napkin around the silverware of his place set and putting it in his lap, even though your little one barely looks up at him. "We don't want to get dirty while eating."

"No crumbs," you agree, taking your napkin and putting it into your lap. You are constantly amazed by what your little girl retains - usually you have to put the napkin on her lap or remind her. Big Girl table manners is something you've only just started working on and pride swells in your chest at her actions. Even if she's just trying to impress Matt you are thrilled your lessons are working.

Once Scooby is hidden under napkins, Minnie puts one still folded napkin into her own lap. She pats it carefully so it's flat. As she does that, you check her plate to make sure everything is ready for her. Her kid's grilled cheese is already cut into four triangles, so you don't need to make anything smaller for her, and the fruit cup doesn't require any help. She's big enough to be able to stab the cut fruit with a fork and eat it on her own. You don't need to fuss with anything on her plate, so you start picking at your french fries. Matt has the same idea as you, going for his side instead of the main, but your daughter picks up the closest quarter of her sandwich and starts to nibble at it, like the Mouse she is.

A comfortable silence falls over your booth as you all start to eat. 

You're still a little hesitant to trust everything is really going so well. You've conditioned yourself to believe that eventually everything will always fall apart - you just need to give it time. People leave and things go wrong, and you're left hurt and alone to pick up the pieces. You pray and hope and wish this curse the universe has put on you doesn't get passed down to your daughter. As long as you are breathing you won't leave her - and maybe if you believe hard enough Matt has come into Minnie's life and you are only there by extension, things won't come crashing down around her. 

You'll fight tooth and nail for her well-being if it comes down to it, but it's something you don't want to have to do. She deserves a good, easy life.

Matt breaks you from your depressing thoughts, tilting his head and that handsome sweet smile towards Minnie, "How is your grilled cheese, Minnie?"

She looks up at him from behind her food, eyes going wide at being addressed, like she forgot Matt was even there. She sets down her half-eaten slice before answering, in a shy little mumble, "...it's yummy." 

"Yeah?"

You duck your head with a fond smile. After the brief excitement of playing, of course she reverts back to being shy. You can sense she wants to start squirming and hiding at the direct attention, so you try to redirect the energy. It's amazing how bold you can be when trying to comfort your daughter. You can let yourself be uncomfortable until the cows come home, but you don't want her to experience that.

"Matt, can you tell Minnie a little about yourself?" You ask, maybe a little bit louder than you intended to.

He tilts his head towards you just slightly, his lips parting slightly and brow furrowing like he doesn't quite get why you asked that now. But he doesn't question you, instead leaning back into his seat to think over the question. 

You want Minnie to know more about Matt to get more comfortable with him but you are also curious. Hearing what someone says about themselves is more telling than reading about them in online news articles.

"Let's see, I first met your Mommy a few years ago at a party. That's how we became friends.  My other friends and I run a law firm where we help people when they get in trouble," He pokes at his fries while he talks and that seems to help Minnie relax more. She picks up her grilled cheese triangle and resumes eating while she listens. "I grew up here in Hell's Kitchen and want to help all my neighbors the best I can, because they are good people who don't have a lot of people to help them. I am able to help them, so my friends and I do the best we can to help them if they need it. I want to live in a happy place where people help each other." 

You have no idea if he has experience talking to three year olds, but you think he'll have no problems with Minnie. Even if she doesn't understand exactly what he's saying, she watches him with interested eyes and you can tell she's taking in the information the best she can. Even if she's getting shy again, it's obvious Matt doesn't scare her. 

"You help people?" your little one asks as Matt eats another fry. "Like a police man?"

He shakes his head, "No, after the police man comes. Like, if a police man thinks someone did something bad, but they didn't. They need someone to come tell the policeman they are innocent. That means they didn't do the bad thing." 

Mouse pauses her chewing, sandwich still partly in her mouth. You haven't really discussed the topic of police with her - she's just three after all, but you know from the shows she watches the police are viewed in a good light. Personally, you've seen the bad side and know very well Matt helped clearing out the corrupt cops in Hell's Kitchen, but the concept the police might get something wrong seems to be a big one for her. Her little nose and brow scrunch up as things roll around in her head. 

Matt seems to realize she's processing, as he continues to eat his fries and wait for the next question. 

Finally, she puts her sandwich back down and looks up at Matt with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Are you Spidey-man?"

You try very hard to not laugh at the series of emotions that fly across Matt's face. First, he looks confused, then he makes this face like he smelled something bad, curling up his lips a little, before forcing it back into a smile with the help of a deep breath. 

"No, sweetheart, I'm not Spider-Man, I'm a lawyer." 

Minnie visibly deflates with a tiny 'oh', picking up a new sandwich triangle to start eating while looking like she's been told Christmas has been canceled. You suck on your bottom lip so you won't laugh. Across from you, Matt looks like he's angry at himself for not being Spider-Man and for disappointing Mouse over the fact - like how dare he not be the spunky superhero. 

You feel the need to intervene before the mood shifts into something negative.

You pick up one of your french fries and wave it a little at Minnie to get her attention, "Matt can't be Spider-Man, Mouse. He's too tall." That gets her to look up at him again and he offers her this tiny hopeful smile. You feel like he's silently begging her to not be upset at him over something he can't control. "Remember? The balloon lady said he was as tall as her and Matt's taller than that." 

You have no idea if she even registered how tall Matt is or if she can even mentally compare his height to the height of someone she's never seen in person, but you know pointing out how things are different in the past has worked.

She screws up her face at your words, carefully considering them, then finally nods and declares, "He's too tall to be Spidey-man." And just like that, everything is fine and she goes back to eating. 

You grin to yourself and pop your fry into your mouth. Matt sits there, like he needs his own moment to process what happened. You are used to toddler wild mood swings and how to deal with them - you speak fluent Minnie logic. It will take him time to learn and you are sure there will be plenty of chances for it. He will be a master of it in no time if his fancy law degree is any indication.

Matt clears his throat after a long pause before picking up half of his sandwich, "Is he your favorite superhero?"

You wonder if he is really ready for this conversation. Minnie is part of the first generation to grow up with Super Heroes being a Real thing and not from war stories and comic books. You've tried to keep her away from all the news stories about all the horrible world events that keep happening, but capitalism sure loves to sell the idea and you can't fight capitalism. You're half convinced the Avengers are funded by their merchandise sales alone. Spider-Man isn't a part of all that, as far as you know, but New York loves the guy and you can get bootleg Spider merch on most street corners. Which you have, because Mouse thinks he's Cool. 

"He saved a kitty," she says with lots of pride in her voice. "I saw on TV." 

You remember the news segment from a few weeks prior: someone had filmed Spider-Man rescuing a cat that had gotten stuck in some construction equipment. It was heartwarming.

"He saved a kitty?" He asks, pretending to be in awe. Minnie gives a vigorous nod before shoving more of her grilled cheese into her mouth.

"She's nodding," you narrate, finally moving to eat your sandwich. "It was a daring rescue. I had to save the video on my phone so we can rewatch it. It was on top of a crane."

"Do you like Spidey-man?" Mouse asks as soon as she swallows her food. You know he can't see you, but you still look at Matt with raised eyebrows, wanting to know his answer as well.  

"Well, based off what you said, he sounds like a good man. He wasn't around when I was growing up, so I'm partial to Captain America. I used to read his comics when I was little like you." It's a very diplomatic and lawyer-y answer and it makes you wonder if Matt even likes the topic. Hell's Kitchen did get the short end of the stick in the Battle of New York and the whole thing might be a touchy subject, especially considering his career. You know developers tried to take advantage of all the destruction and that must have caused a tonne of legal trouble. 

Not that Minnie knows any of that, so you try to divert the conversation with the first thought that comes to mind, "what about ducks, Mr. Murdock, are you a fan of ducks?" 

Your question throws him for a moment, but eventually he hums at the inquiry before nodding, "I do like ducks. Even ones who bite." He shoots you a little smile, something charming that makes your heart stutter. So instead of continuing to look at him, you turn to your daughter.

"Do you think we should invite Matt to visit the ducks?" You ask, wanting to make sure she is comfortable with the idea before properly asking Matt if he would like to come along. You have no idea if he has plans after this or not, but it is worth a shot.

Minnie looks from you to Matt and back again, pursing her lips in thought before lowering her voice into an unintentional stage whisper, "Mommy, he can't touch the duckies."

You try your best to not coo at her concern. You want to wrap her up in your arms and never let anything bad happen because how can your little angel be so thoughtful after only knowing him for half an hour?

"It's okay, sweetie," Matt softly says, and you turn your gaze to him. You swear you can feel the emotion coming off of him in waves - the desire to spend more time with his daughter, to learn more about her and bond. "You can help describe them to me, if you want. If you want me to come with you." 

The last part hits home - you are very familiar with that way of speech. The want and ache to be included but knowing you'll most likely be denied the opportunity. 

It feels like an infinity passes before she looks away from both of you and shyly admits, "I can help." She was so enthusiastic with her new toy and you do want to try to get that energy back. The park is one of the places she forgets to be a timid little mouse and you are hoping once she's not trapped in the booth, it will be easier for her to express herself.

"May I go with you to visit the ducks, Minnie?" He asks so proper and politely and it makes your stomach do funny things. You really do not understand how this wonderful man picked you of all people to sleep with.

Mouse squirms then pushes her wrist against her mouth, mumbling into it, "I wanna see the duckies. With Mister Matt. And Mommy."

You lean in and gently kiss the top of her head, rubbing at her back to silently tell her she did such a good job. "We'll all go see the duckies after we finish eating. All together."

Minnie peeks up at you, that shy sweet smile brightening to a look only reserved for Mommy, "We're gonna see the duckies. All together."

From the other side of the booth you hear Matt confirm in the softest voice, like you weren't meant to hear it.

 "All together."

tags list:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza 

[typosandtea]

hi!!! for the drawing stuff, would you consider to draw a lil radchiken please?? love those lil funky chickies

Hi Anon! Thanks for the request! I also love rad chickens so, why just one!

Fallout doesn’t go hard enough with the potential for mutations sometime I think, I really like mutants!

[ID: a digital drawing. 5 rad-chickens 2 chicks and a baby deathclaw from fallout are pictured. In the centre is a rooster with brown feathers, dark green with glowing tail feathers, pale yellow legs and pink patchy skin showing with yellow and green spots, the rooster is friendly looking. In the bottom left corner is a green and black glowing chicken with deathclaws arms and tail, it’s angry looking. Behind it is glowing green lines. In the bottom right corner in a 2 headed brown chicken with its left leg and side exposed spotty pink and green skin, it’s friendly. In the top right corner is a brown chicken that’s flying, it has green highlights outlining its feathers. It’s happy and on a blue background. In the top left is a brown and patchy pink mother hen with 2 yellow chicks and a baby brown deathclaw, they are all happy. They are on a green stripe like grass. The artists signature is on the left middle side in hot pink “typos & tea :)”. End ID]

[blakelysco-pilot]

oooh those prompts are so cute bestie!! I’d love to see 64 & 74 for Ev and Val, and 52 & 87 for Rosie and Jo?

Prompts from this list; ask box is, as always, open chickies! 💗

More of everyone’s favorite pilots & their sweethearts under the cut

Ev & Val

64. “Are you ticklish?”

74. 74. “Don’t let go.”

With the band playing on long into the night, and the Silver Wings Club full of chatter, no one had even heard the rain battering down on the roof. The rain itself wasn’t uncommon on base, but at near midnight after a few drinks, it seemed to stop everyone in their tracks.

“Damn; wasn’t expecting that.” Ev sighed, shrugging off his jacket.

“It’s pouring, why are you taking off your jacket?”

“To keep you dry,” Ev looked down at Val as he draped it over her shoulders. “I’m a gentleman, remember baby?”

“How could I ever forget.” She grinned, slipping her arms into the sleeves, and watching as they fell straight down past her hands, engulfing her.

“So cute,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Now come on, let’s see how quick I can get you back to your rack.”

“Wouldn’t mind stealing a jeep right about now.” She grumbled, pushing the sleeve of her right arm up so she could take his hand.

“Oh now she wants to steal a jeep!”

“Come on,” Val pinched his waist, watching as he jumped from where he was standing. It couldn’t be. She pinches his waist all the time. “Ev, what was that?”

“What was what?”

“Are you ticklish?!”

“No…”

“You are!”

“I’m not!”

To prove her point again, she pinched his waist, and he jumped just the same as before.

“How come when I do this while we’re dancing you don’t get all squirmy?”

“Cause I’m wearing my jacket,” he grumbled. “I don’t feel it as much, but I always know you’re there.”

“Oh honey, that's so cute!”

He fixed her with an eye roll before turning back to the door, the rain now somehow coming down harder than it had been a moment ago.

“Alright, you ready to make a break for it?”

“No, let’s go back inside and curl up in one of the big chairs until it passes.”

“Val,” he chuckled. “Mike already kicked us out.”

“Mike doesn’t know it’s pissing rain!”

“Alright, I’ve got an idea…”

Bending at the knees, Everett scooped her up like a bride, cradling her close to his chest as she wrapped an arm around his neck, her head thrown back in glee.

“I thought I’d at least have to wait until we got married for you to carry me this way!”

“You’re wearing a skirt,” he pecked her cheek. “I can’t carry you the other way without everyone else getting a show.”

“Oh no, we can’t have that,” she grinned wickedly, face pressed close to his. “Not when the show is only meant for you.”

“Sometimes I wonder how you got so fresh, and then I remember.”

“It’s four letters and he’s insufferable.”

“Remind me to thank him whenever he gets out of the stalag, yea?”

“Sure thing,” she mock saluted. “Now, let’s get to bed.”

“Don’t tempt me, I’ll sneak in there.”

“I’m counting on it.”

With a wink, Ev tightened his grip on her before stepping one foot out the door, the rain soaking up his pant leg in seconds flat.

“Don’t let go.” He looked down at her, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, asking her in the moment, and then some, to always hold on.

Rosie & Jo

52. “Can I kiss you?”

87. “You were never just my friend.”

He thought he had it all figured out that morning when he left for work. He was Major Robert Rosenthal. He was smart. He was capable. He was still unable to pull the wool over his mothers eyes.

“Ma, I’ll be home late tonight, we have a big case and I’ll probably-“

“Spend the night at Josephine’s?”

Mrs. Rosenthal fixed her son with a look, one that said he wasn’t fooling anyone. That woman knew exactly what he was up to. With her parents once again visiting Mrs. Harris’ sister down south, Josephine was home alone, and unlike the last time, Rosie was home too, and didn’t like the idea of his girlfriend puttering around in that house by herself.

“I don’t like the idea of her alone, Ma.”

“I know,” his mother sighed. “Go on, just, be respectable for the love of god, Robert.”

“Love you Ma!” He passed her on his way out with a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll call later, okay?”

“Yes, yes of course, now go,” she shooed her son out the door. “Have a nice day at work, and give Josephine my love.”

Now, it was early evening and he was walking down the block towards her home. His briefcase in one hand and a bouquet of peonies in the other, he couldn’t help the extra pep in his step at the idea of spending a whole weekend with her with no one watching them. Quickly ascending the stairs, he knocked on the door, his smile growing as he saw her silhouette approach the door. Then she was there, standing in front of him with a bright smile, stepping forward to wrap her arms around him.

“Hi!”

“Hey, honey,” he sighed, feeling his entire body relax as she hugged him. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” she pressed her lips to his cheek, and Rosie felt himself yearning for every night after work to be this way. “Come in, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

“A surprise? And here I thought I was surprising you.”

Jo stepped back to assess him, and it was then she saw the bouquet of pink and white flowers in his hand, and the twinkle in his eye.

“Robbie, they’re beautiful,” taking them from him, she pressed her nose softly into the petals to take in their sweet scent, smile growing. “Thank you!”

“I know peonies are your favorite.”

“Second favorite.”she grinned.

“What? Wait, I thought -”

“You’re my first favorite,” she took his hand and led him into the house. “Always have been, and always will be.”

He shook his head thoughtfully, her sweet remark lingering between them as he followed her further into the house. He had dropped his briefcase by the door on his way in, and was surprised to see that she had cooked dinner for him while the house was hers alone for the day.

“I made dinner,” she turned back to face him, and he could see she looked a little nervous. “I got the recipe from Jean…”

“Honey pie, I would have been perfectly happy with a club sandwich and some french fries, but this smells amazing.”

“If it’s no good, I promise I won’t be offended. Or upset.”

“Jo, come here…” he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. Here she was, one of the best bakers he knew, self proclaimed world's best chocolate chip cookies, and she was nervous over dinner.

“We can always go out…”

“Shh,” he pulled her into his arms, cradling her face gently. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Oh!”

“Can I?”

“You don’t have to ask permission, you know. My kisses are for you, always.”

Rosie closed the gap between them, his lips covering Jo’s with zero hesitation. One hand slipped up and into her hair, pulling her closer just so he could feel her body pressed against his. Feel her hands gripping his arms with such force that it felt like she’d never let go. He never wanted her to. She giggled when his mustache tickled her lip, but never wavered in her kiss; her hands slipping up from his biceps until she could wrap her arms around his neck. Nothing but the need for oxygen could separate them, and even then. Rosie was convinced if he was going to die, he’d want to do it in her arms.

“All those kisses just for me,” he whispered against her skin as they broke apart. “How lucky for me… we should have stopped being just friends a long time ago.”

“You were never just my friend,” she purred, nosing at him softly. “I hope you know that.”

“I know. I’m just sorry we wasted so much time dancing around it for so long.”

“I’m not sorry. All my greatest moments have been with you, and we get to keep doing that now. The only difference is, there’s more of this…”

She kissed him again to prove her point, and he agreed in earnest, hands coming to grip her thighs and hoist her into his arms.

“Much more of this,” he grinned. “I promised Ma I’d be a respectable gentleman this weekend…”

“Your mother isn’t here.” Jo winked.

“Then let’s go work up an appetite, sweetheart…”

[crissiebaby]

Double Diaper Dare: Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, public humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, WAM, hypnosis, diaper filling, slime transformation, and other ABDL themes. This series is a direct follow-up to the short story, Codi’s Trick, and while you don’t need to read it to understand this, I highly recommend it. I hope you enjoy!

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Codi’s Diary: Entry 141

I was alone for a long time, longer than the deepest reaches of my memory banks would ever allow me to remember. No name, no goals or aspirations, and barely any consciousness to speak of. Floating along as a pile of amorphous goo in zero gravity apathetic to everything around me. I didn’t know at the time if anything else or anyone else was out there. Heck, I didn’t even know what time was. 

That was until my form was sucked into and sent hurling past the event horizon of a black hole only to be spat out on some barren rock in the middle of a dead star system. It would’ve been a bleak ending to a dismal existence were it not for a parting gift that my sudden trip through time and space had left me with. I didn’t understand it then but I had been given the unique ability to create wormholes at will. Wormholes that I could use to travel the cosmos.

With the farthest reaches of space within my grasp, I traveled the galaxy and watched countless civilizations across millions of stars rise and fall, learning from them and developing consciousness slowly over time. However, there was one planet I found myself coming back to again and again. A small, underdeveloped planet with sentient life that was only beginning to take its first steps, much like I was. These bizarre and complicated life forms were called humans, and if only I had known then what my newfound love for humanity would lead to…

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“I dare you.”

Three little words that, while seemingly insignificant, had the power to turn tides and wage wars. To turn down a dare would be to bring unparalleled shame and dishonor.

“Bawk bawk!” shouted Crissie repeatedly, flapping her arms up and down like a chicken as she encircled Codi’s drawing corner. She lifted her knees high with every step to add to the animal caricature, her double-thick diaper rustling in Codi’s ears like a trash bag full of leaves, “I didn’t know my favorite roomie was such a chicky-chick-chicken! Bawk bawk!”

Focusing on her tablet as her eye twitched uncontrollably, Codi was nearing her daily limit of Crissie’s annoying antics, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Having been living within Crissie’s pocket dimension nursery for several months, there wasn’t a day that went by without the aforementioned diaper lover finding some new and unique way to pester her. And things had only gotten worse since the big Halloween reveal. “For the last time, no! You can say whatever you want but I’m not going to shift into my slime form and that’s final!” she said, blushing as she once again was forced to acknowledge her species.

Despite the humanoid form that Codi took, she was actually a goo-person from a different dimension. And while she could move between forms with ease, she preferred to keep her human form whenever she could even before rooming with Crissie. Sadly, that hasn’t stopped Crissie from asking her to change into a slime every single day since she found out. Her latest approach: the ‘dare’ tactic.

“Awww! But it could be so much fun!” whined Crissie as she thought back to how amazing it felt to have Codi’s goo swirling around in her diaper. If only that witch’s spell hadn’t been temporary, then they could have horny playtimes like that all the time. Flopping her arms over Codi’s shoulders, she sank to the floor pathetically, “Pleeeeeeeeeease! I promise I won’t ask for anything else!”

Shaking her head, Codi snickered, “Oh, pleeeeeeease, yourself! We both know that’s not true.  You said the exact same thing after you asked me to draw those diaper nudes of you AND after you got me to put that suppository in your…you-know-where!”

“Hehehe, yeah,” said Crissie, forgetting the plot for a brief moment as she fondly remembered the outcome of that suppository, “...but I really mean it this time!”

Rolling her eyes, Codi ignored Crissie’s pleas and attempted to resume her work. That was until the brat reached over her body and snatched her drawing pen out of her hand. “Crissie, I swear if you don’t give that back-”

“You’ll what?” said Crissie, pulling open the front of her diaper and dropping the pen inside, “Ooh, and I think I’m gonna have an accident pretty soon.”

Frustrated and over Crissie’s brattitude, Codi stretched her hand out quickly transforming her fingers into strands of purple goo, and wrapped herself around Crissie’s wrists and waist. She then pulled Crissie in close and promptly stuck her free hand down the front of Crissie’s diaper, retrieving her pen in seconds. “There, I’d say I lived up to my end of the dare,” she snarked, blowing the remnants of powder off of her drawing pen with a satisfied smirk, “So, now I dare you to shut up and go play in your crib until I’m done drawing.”

Puffing up her cheeks into a big pout, Crissie made a series of angry noises before stomping off and plopping herself down in her crib. She may have been pissed at how Codi got around the dare, but she was much too proud to not follow a dare given to her. Grabbing the bars of the crib, she slammed them up into place and folded her arms as she sat cross-legged on the plush mattress, her eyes locked on Codi.

Codi, meanwhile, got back to work despite feeling Crissie’s eyes burning a hole in the back of her non-existent skull. Thankfully, knowing how short of an attention span Crissie had, it wouldn’t be long before her mind was occupied by something else. At least, that’s what she hoped, anyway, failing to calculate precisely how petty Crissie was feeling.

After a few minutes of staring at her artistic adversary from behind a row of crib bars, Crissie finally gave up on the stoic approach, knowing that she’d need to step up her game if she was going to get Codi to focus her attention back on her. Luckily, she had perfect equipment ready to go within the comfort of her crib. Pulling out a Magic Wand from under her pillow, things in the nursery were about to get very loud.

“Mmmmmmm! Uuuuuugh!” moaned Crissie as she pressed the head of the large, white vibrator against the front of her diaper. She wasn’t nearly as horny as she was making it out to be, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to get on Codi’s nerves, and in that department, she was definitely succeeding.

Placing a hand on one of her ears, Codi furrowed her brows and attempted to block out the world around her. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done, as Crissie’s sexual noises only got louder and more “passionate.” She swore that Crissie had to be one of the worst actors of all time. That sadly didn’t mean that she wasn’t accomplishing her goal of being an outright distraction.

Slamming her pen down on her desk, Codi promptly stood up and stomped over to Crissie’s crib. “You’re lucky I can’t create wormholes anymore or else I would be so outta here. I’m seriously about to tape your mouth shut,” she said starkly with zero humor in her tone, continuously dreading the fact that Master had stolen her powers from her when she had first arrived in the nursery.

“Kinky,” responded Crissie, giggling as she stuck her tongue out, “Wait a minute, you got up from your desk! That means you’re done drawing, which means I won the dare!”

Pressing her thumb and forefinger on her eyes, Codi let out a long, painful groan. “I was literally getting up to tell you to can it. But sure, if it makes you feel good, you beat your dare. Now can you let me draw in peace?!”

“Nuh-uh! That means we’re tied one to one!” shouted Crissie, leaping to her feet and peeking her head over the side of the Crib, “So now it’s my turn to give you a dare again! Those are the rules.”

Throwing her arms in the air dramatically, Codi yelled, “What moronic rules are you talking about?!” 

“The rules of Double Diaper Dare, of course,” said Crissie,  acting as though what she was saying was common knowledge, “We’re supposed to give each other dares until one of us fails to do their dare or they chicken out! It’s like Double Dog Dare, only all the dares are supposed to be diaper-themed. I don’t get where the confusion is.”

Resting her head on the side of one of the crib posts, Codi couldn’t believe how self-centered and ridiculous Crissie was behaving. It wasn’t like those adjectives weren’t normally used to describe Crissie. However, for some reason, she was even worse today than usual, “The confusion is how your baby brain possibly could’ve perceived that we were playing a game at all. I don’t remember agreeing to Double Diaper Dare or whatever you sai-”

“Bawk! Bawk bawk bawk bawk!” Without hesitation, Crissie instantly launched into another series of mocking chicken noises, refusing to let Codi get a word in edgewise. 

Balling up her fist, something inside of Codi snapped as her ears were once again assaulted by Crissie’s ceaseless gibberish. Whether it was her inner-competitive spirit or the result of all the mind-numbing ways Crissie had gone out of her way to be annoying, she refused to let this indignity stand. As much as she didn’t want to play Crissie’s stupid game, this was the perfect opportunity to change the status quo within the nursery for the foreseeable future. If Crissie wanted to play games, she was going to make the bratty Little suffer as much as possible. “Fine then! You wanna play Double Diaper Dare? Bring it!” she said, placing her hands on her hips as she glared at her opponent, “But if I’m playing, there’s gonna be some stakes involved. If I win, you have to leave me alone and play quietly whenever I’m working. Deal?”

Getting exactly what she wanted, Crissie's mouth curled into a sly smile. “Deal!” she said, officially throwing down the gauntlet with her dear roomie, “And if I win, I get to play with Slime Codi again!” She extended her arm through the crib bars, offering her hand to Codi to seal the deal.

Codi instantly returned the gesture, gripping Crissie’s hand tightly as she shook it. “Alright, CrissieBaby, hit me with your best shot. What’s my dare?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

NEXT »

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Edited by AllySmolShork

[kingofthe-egirls]

FOX TALES: LUFFY x OC (Or, when LUFFY asks you to join his crew)

fox tales

(cw: original female character, kitsune oc, stealing, kitsune lore, mention of past dog bite/farmers)

(a/n: welcome to part 1!!!)

Songs: "Dress" by Charlotte Sands

words: 1k

You’re crouching in the dark next to a chicken coop, listening to see if the hens are asleep. Luffy is crouching behind you, having insisted on following you on your hunt.

“Shh!” You hiss, whirling around as Luffy steps forward, snapping a twig. Too much noise could wake the hens up. You point to your feet, for Luffy to follow. “Sneaky,” you whisper, “Like this.” You take a deep breath, center yourself, and melt through the air. Luffy inhales sharply.

“Kit,” he hisses, “Where’d ya go??”

“Right here, dumbass,” you rustle your fingers quickly so he can hear where you are. You weren’t used to having a partner.

“I can’t turn invisible, fox-tail. And I can’t see you at all!” he squints his eyes in the dark, waving around to try and find you.

“Here,” you whisper, grabbing one of his wrists. “And you can see me if you blur your eyes. Keep me at the edges of your vision,” you turn his cheek with one hand, so it was just the outer corner of his left eye that was facing you. “That’s how you see spirits with mortal eyes,” you say.

“Thanks,” he says, scrutinizing you with one eye, “It’s like opals.”

You blush, and drop his chin. “Just try to keep up, okay?” He nods, and you turn back to the chicken coop. There’s not a lot of noise from inside, besides some rustling of feathers. You duck inside the squat doorway. It smells like wet straw.

The first chicken clucks a bit as you dart your hand beneath the warm feathers, and close around an oval object. Quickly, you start filling your basket with eggs. Just enough to not be noticed, only one or two from each nest.

The floor creaks behind you.

“Hey, chicky!” Luffy stage-whispers to the first hen in the row. “Got any eggs?” He starts poking at the hen’s face, and she wakes up with a squawk. No!

“Hsst!” You spit through your teeth, grabbing Luffy’s wrist. The other hens have started rustling more, and you’re reminded of the farmer’s dog. Your forearm stings at the thought of the old bite wound he left you. “Cmon,” you growl, pulling Luffy out of the henhouse. “Time to go.”

You dash outside, Luffy protesting behind you. A quick glance up at the moon, and a portal opens in front of you. You step through. Luffy tumbles in after you.

“Fuck,” you groan as you shut it behind you again, now safe in your backyard. You stomp over to your fire pit, and set the eggs down none too gently. Two clack against each other and crack. “Ugh!” You shout, kicking over a log. You whirl around to Luffy, who’s standing brushing himself off. Laughing.

“How dare you be that loud!” You accuse, face hot. He looks up at you in surprise. “We could have gotten caught!”

He holds up his fists, casually. “I could’ve fought them!”

“I didn’t want you to fight them!” Your ears are flattened against your scalp, your tails whipping back and forth in anger. “You can’t just keep fighting things for me! You have to listen to what I say! I’m saying it for a reason!” Hot tears are flooding your vision. Luffy steps forward, but you keep going.

“I’ve been bitten by their dog before, Luffy! I’ve been chased by their pitchforks! I’m smart, and I’m clever,” you wrap your arms around yourself, squeezing hard. “But I need food.” The months of scraping by on scraps has left burn marks in your gut. Your breath comes in ragged sobs. “If we had gotten caught, they could have set the dog loose on us again, and then he’d have both our scents. Or worse, they’d start chaining him to the coop at night. And then what’ll I do? What’ll I do once you’re gone?” You spit the last word out like stone, shivering with cold. You want your coat.

“I’m sorry, Just Kit,” Luffy stands in front of you, serious. “I didn’t think about your future. Or the danger I could’ve put you in. But,” he lifts his chin up, “Why don’t you just keep some chickens here? Seems like a lotta trouble for just a few eggs.” He raises an eyebrow, a challenge.

You shake your head back and forth, vicious. “There’s no animals here, Straw Hat. Just half-spirits, like me. If I try to keep a chicken here it’ll just die,” your voice is flat, “I’ve already tried.” You sniff, and wipe at your eyes. You glance over at the black hen’s grave, a bickering old thing who’d caught sick within a week. “I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.”

“There’s no half-chickens?” Luffy cocks his head. You huff out a breath, an almost laugh. You rub a palm against your cheek.

“Not that I’ve seen,” you say, sniffling a bit. “But if you find one, lemme know. Maybe there’s a spirit chicken with eggs you could actually eat.”

Luffy knew how you’d gotten here. Half-feral and bloody, banished by the spirit world to a realm in between worlds. Alone. Half-mortal, suddenly, with a body you knew nothing about. Nothing to eat, needing to sleep, unable to pass through the veil to go home. Nowhere was home for you, but here. Stealing eggs and tracking moon cycles, learning how to live.

“Come with me,” Luffy says, “And you’ll never be alone again.”

****

“What?”

You stare. His mouth is set in a firm line, his brows drawn down hard over his eyes. Blood is rushing in your ears.

“Join my crew,” he says again, arms crossed. “I have the best cook in the world. He could make eggs for you. And our navigator would like you. She steals things too.” He tilts his chin up, “And I could use someone like you.”

You shift. “What do you mean?”

Crickets chirp in the night. The moon is bright overhead, casting brilliant white beams all over the yard.

Luffy gestures excitedly. “Your skill! I’ve never seen anything like that, vanishing in midair! You’re good at hiding, and thinking things through. You can paint, too.” He puffs his chest out proudly, “I think the king of pirates deserves an artist, don’t you? Who else will paint my portrait?” He grins, and then turns serious again as he faces you. “But you have to want to. You still haven’t said if you want to.”

The pond ripples in the moonlight.

“I’m a mess,” you hedge, scared. He nods.

“I know.”

“I’m half-fox.”

“So what? I’m half-rubber.”

“I cheat,” you say, desperate, “I lie and I steal.”

“Pirate life sounds perfect for you,” he walks closer to you, glaring down at you in challenge. You think he’s going to ask you for a duel. “Unless you’d rather rot here all alone?”

You bristle at his taunt, tails whipping back and forth. He’s in your face now, nose barely touching yours. “Well, fox-tails? What’ll it be?”

Your heart pounds. You’ve never left this place before. Not really. But your eyes sting at the thought of having someone to share stories with over a campfire. Not just anyone, though. A whole group of people. A whole crew.

“Yes,” you breathe, “I want to come with you. Please,” you hitch another sob, “Please take me with you! I don’t want to be alone anymore!”

Luffy tackles you in a bear hug. “I’m your captain now!” He laughs, triumphantly, “And I order you to come home with me!”

[sagesolsticewrites]

aaand "I can do your hair if you want" for Brady and Jules <3

Thanks again for the request chickie!! I had so much fun with this one 🥰 domestic Brady & Jules my beloveds!!!

from this prompt list; as always, inbox is open if y’all would like to see more! 🥰

"I can do your hair if you want" for Brady and Jules

Juliet Brady is pulled gently from the warm arms of sleep by a series of kisses pressed up her neck, pausing just below her ear and continuing along her cheek. A soft hum of a laugh escapes her as, eyes still closed, she tilts her head, opening her eyes only when her nose brushes her husband’s.

“Good morning,” John Brady hums, sweet blue eyes tracing reverently over her features in the dappled sunlight brightening the room.

“Good morning, my love,” Juliet smiles, sleepily leaning to brush a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Husband and wife stay there for a few moments longer, basking in the slowness of a Saturday morning; no lunches to throw together, no last-minute lesson plans to go over on the way out the door, just the two of them in bed, legs tangled, for once able to wake up after the sun rises.

Reluctantly, Juliet drags herself out of bed to make herself somewhat presentable for the day, John moving to sit at the edge of their bed, meeting her eyes in the vanity mirror as she unties the silk scarf from around her pin curls.

“I can do your hair if you want.”

She turns in surprise at her husband’s voice, John looking utterly enraptured at her.

“I— really?”

He gives a sheepish shrug, “I’ve seen you do it enough times by now, I think I can manage.”

Juliet’s sparkling green eyes go soft. Though the request was rather out of the blue, there was something so earnest and sweet in his expression that she just couldn’t resist.

“I’d love that, Johnny.”

Grinning, he moves to stand behind her, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head as he gently works the curls free, dropping pins into the little dish Jules indicates on her vanity.

“I’ll never understand how you’re able to do all this every night,” he says, a note of awe in his voice as the pile of pins grows.

“Magic,” she teases with a grin, though it turns into a wince as the comb now in her husband’s hand snags on a knot.

“Sorry, honey, sorry…” he murmurs, dragging it more gently through her dark tresses.

She lets out a soft hum to assure him she’s alright, her eyes going half-lidded in relaxation thanks to his ministrations.

In what seems like no time at all, he’s running his fingers through the soft waves to ensure he didn’t miss any tangles.

“Done,” he murmurs as she opens her eyes, inspecting his work in the mirror, “So? How’d I do?”

“Perfect, Johnny,” she beams, turning to press a tender kiss to his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, honey.”

[fic-heaven]

Hi chickie. I saw the other day on a random TikTok that some soldiers eat steak and lobster when they are about to do a dangerous mission that will probably cost them their death. Can u write something like that with someone of your choosing?

Steak n' lobster (Gus x reader)

Angst.

🐥You know who imma'bout to choose uwu.

Btw I didn't know it meant straight up death?? I thought they ate this when their deployment extended or smth but I don't know.

Very short short!!

.

"Say, where is this mission happening exactly?"

"Do you really need to go solo?"

"Is the captain aware your knee is still recovering...?"

"Mi vida, you'll text or call me whenever you can, right? I don't doubt your habilites, no, no, no... I'm just..."

Worried. He was worried.

Normally you'd tell Gus all about your missions, even stuff you were not supposed to share. But this time when he bombarded you with questions about this particular mission you were assigned to accomplish alone so far from the base and this bloody country, you didn't give him clear answers insisting you couldn't share much about what your unit was cooking. In truth you weren't lying.

Price had strictly ordered you to stay quiet about the matter, specially about the fake death you had to play in order to keep the enemy off your radar so you could spy on them. Your captain knew of the "unprofessional" relationship you had with Gustavo Rodriguez, and as much as he supported your love for each other he pressed you to NOT tell Gus a word about this or else... You never asked what "or else" implied. But when the topic waltzed around Gus, you made sure to straighten your back and obey as long as you two could still remain side by side.

Thanks to SpecGru's alliance with 141 both parties shared a base facilitating your collaborations immensely. Sincere this wasn't SpecGru's main HQ, one of it's leaders amongst some squads resided here and that's how you and Gus met.

It fist started with a tease during a rescue mission, later he invited you to share dinner with him on his table, one thing led to the other and you two shared a bed countless nights after that. It's been over a year and a half and your bond did nothing but strengthen. But this mission... You were sure It'd break him... And you were feeling guilty as hell for accepting, but you didn't have any other choice. This was your job after all.

"Gus. Baby..." You breathed out in a slight warning tone when your lover shot you the seventh question about this mission.

His eyes were calm but concerned as he sat next to you on your table in the far corner of the mess hall where no one could disturb you two, his food was long forgotten as his gloved hands approached taking yours, his thumbs brushed your palms in encouragement for you to continue. "Dime."

How could you tell him? Price had forbidden you from speaking a word about your future fake death and yet. You look at your lover's eyes, so warm and full of open affection and concern, his discomfort about not knowing where you'll be heading and for how long was clear in his golden irises. Gus' characteristic playful demeanor was non-existent when it came to your safety, soldier or not, you will always be his princess, his love, and later in a few months, with little luck, even his fiance.

"There are some things we have to do in this line of work... Some... Unfortunate decisions have to be made, and sometimes not by ourselves but by our superiors..."

The Rican didn't like the way this was going, olive skin went clammy with sweat as the thousand bad thoughts he have been having this whole morning projected in real life. You couldn't meet his intense stare but you did squeeze his hands reassuringly as If reminding him that you were here, that you were real, as if whatever you were about to say would change his life for the worse.

You opened your mouth to continue but suddenly Soap made presence in your table, here to bring you your food tray and the sight was enough to rob the words from you mouth and for Gus to abruptly stand up with a scandalized look.

Steak and lobster.

"You can't. I forbid it." He scoffed, his voice shaky. Golden eyes glared daggers at the food tray Soap was nudging your way in silence.

"Gus-"

"NO!" The loud yell from the Rican followed by the loud clash that came from his fists colliding against the table rattling the trays echoed through the mess hall, a thousand heads turned your way.

But the only stare that caused you stress at that moment was Price's. The captain was leaning on the wall right behind Gus, his face was enough to get the order right. There was no time for your last meal, you had to sail right away.

"Forgive me, love..."

[honeykngdom]

𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 | 𝚎.𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 | 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

Pairing: Embry Call x Original Character Summary: Join Ainsley and Embry as they embark on a journey where they are forced to question everything they thought they knew, and embrace the pain that is inevitable to avoid in love. An imprint story. Self-discovery. Angst and romance. Word Count: 4.7k Warnings: NSFW - mentions of prior sexual assault, mentions of prior ingestion of date rape prev. chapter | next chapter

The sun broke through the curtains, pulling me from my slumber. Embry left the window open throughout the night, making the air within our shared room frosty and bitter; I sunk deeper into the mattress and pulled the thick duvet under my chin. My eyes strained against the light, and I gave a sort of whining noise as I stretched my legs, entire body aching with the movements. A pair of warm arms tightened around my waist and Embry’s nose pressed into my neck as he hugged me closer to his half-asleep frame. 

My eyes watched the gentle fall of the snowflakes, a small smile breaking across my lips as I gingerly ran my hand along the arm that held me. “Look, babe. It’s snowing.” I whispered quietly; the gentle lift of his chin was followed by a slight hum, then a lingering kiss was pressed to my jaw. It was mornings like these that I wanted to freeze in time forever. Wanted to remain in bed all day with Embry and his warm embrace. “I have to get up.” I lamented, my breath faltering into a laugh as Embry groaned in reluctance. 

I spent several minutes trying to coax him into letting me go – it ended with multiple kisses and disapproving mumbles. I had an early shift at the diner, and needed to give myself ample time to get to Forks so that I wasn’t late. I rushed through my shower, slipping on two pairs of socks to keep the cold tiles from bothering my feet. Once I was satisfied with my hair and no longer looked lifeless, I returned to the cold bedroom to see Embry’s frame spread across the bed frame. He laid on his stomach, hugging his arms around the pillow his head was resting on. The bed was a King, and still, he almost looked too big – as though he were sleeping on a double. 

I pressed my cold lips to his back, evading his desperate fingers as they searched blindly for me. “I’ll see you at Emily’s tonight – I promised her we’d help out.” 

“Your keys are in the ignition.” Embry grunted in response. 

I expected the Jeep to be buried under a mountain of snow, but instead it sat in the driveway cleared. Embry must have slipped out while I was showering to clear it off for me - and had even started the heat inside. I shivered in the warmth of the vehicle, thanking all the Gods for my boyfriend before I pulled the car into drive and sped off down the road towards the highway out of town. 

It took me an extra twenty minutes to get through the snow banks; the plows hadn’t come through the reservation yet but I was certain the drive home would be less daunting. I parked behind the diner, rushing through the backdoor. I was shrugging out of my jacket just as the clock ticked to 7:00 AM. 

“Mornin’ chickie!” Debbie chirped from the front counter, her red hair curled uniformly away from her face. 

“Morning.” I smiled, kicking my boots off at the door to pull my sneakers on. “Where’s Angie?” 

Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear. The short-haired girl rounded the corner, supporting the tray with her hip. I could tell Angie had recently buzzed the undercut, leaving the three inches up top to grow out a little more. I smiled wider, catching the cloth that was tossed in my direction. 

“Hey, nugget.”

“How’s the rush?” I asked.

“Not much of a rush,” Angie sighed, sorting the dishes off her tray. “Damn snow.” 

I bumped her hip, rolling the sleeves up on my white blouse to wash my hands. “Don’t knock the snow.” 

“What’s so great about it? It’s cold, it’s wet, it gets ugly when exhaust and cars run over it all the time.”

I rolled my eyes. “It means Christmas is coming.” I rinsed the soap from my skin, and flicked my fingers at Angie’s face, water droplets pelting in her direction. “Plus, it means my birthday is almost here.” 

Angie was about a year older than I was. When I first started working at Shaker’s, Ang’s hair had just reached her chin, was parted in the middle and was a warm chestnut brown. After her break up, she buzzed the undercut and kept it short, just long enough to grab a decent fistful whenever she was stressed. Her teeth sat in perfectly straightened rows – many thanks to the braces she endured in her teen years. Her pale skin made me envision red sunburns in the summertime. She was simple, but still pretty. It was her firecracker attitude that made me fall in love with her. 

“There’s somebody out there asking for you.” Angie stuffed her towel into the back pocket of her black jeans. “All morning - showed up right when we opened.” 

I pulled my brows together, tying my apron around my waist hastily as I wandered towards the front. The girls were right – the diner was essentially empty, except for the two occupied booths in the corner. There was a man that sat at the front counter, his hands wrapped gingerly around a cup of coffee and his hat pulled down over his eyes. I grabbed one of the breakfast menus as I wandered towards him. 

“Special for the day is blueberry pancakes. Trust me, you’ll want to try ‘em if you’re just passing through.” I mused lightly, sliding the laminated booklet in front of him. 

When he looked up, I froze. I would have recognized that petulant stare from a mile away; his brown orbs now darkened into a sort of black, his mouth pulled back into a slight grimace. I braced my hands on the countertop between us, trying to keep the bad taste from rising completely up my throat. 

Maddox looked as though he had been through hell and back a few times. I couldn’t find the heart to feel any sort of sympathy. 

“Not hungry,” he said finally, pushing the menu away with the tips of his fingers. 

I watched him carefully for a moment, assessing the way his shoulders hunched forward, the way his movements seemed controlled and careful. He was trying to make himself small, so much different from how he used to be. 

I had loved him once. Prior to the date-party, prior to my unhappy ending, I had believed him every time he said he’d marry me someday, that he’d make me happy. He’d take care of me. That is what I had counted on - being with someone that could protect me from any sort of danger, although I had never fathomed what that danger could possibly be. His honey-brown orbs used to make my head spin, the way he carried himself made me feel as though he was an unstoppable force of nature. 

When he was hanging out with my brothers, he spent fight  nights stepping into the shoes of some stereotypical douchebag, trying to put on a show to get the cash flowing. He knew people would never bet against him if no one ever landed a solid swing or two on him. He never wanted me to be there, mentioned something about it being too crowded, too busy. I never listened, obviously. Travis always kept good on his promise to sneak me in, but always failed to make sure I didn’t go missing. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked curtly, pulling the menu from the countertop to drill holes into his forehead. 

Maddox lifted his chin and sighed, his eyes wandering just above my head for a split second before he cracked a small half-smile. “Staying with some friends in the area,” he lied, cocking his left brow, “what are you doing here? Don’t you live on the reserve?” 

I pulled my brows together. “How did you know?” 

His eyes rolled. “Because you told me where you were born, love.” 

“Do not,” I seethed, leaning forward to get in his face, “come in here and pretend like you know me.” 

“But I do know you.” Maddox pressed, leaning back away from me quickly. “Your favourite colour is purple. You absolutely love ketchup even though it’s awful for you. You can’t stand the rain yet you can’t seem to find yourself anywhere sunny and warm to live. You’d never admit it outloud, but Trenton is your favoured brother -”

I held up my hand, having heard enough. I was certain he could go on and on. We had spent the majority of a year together as an item; being young had meant we spent more time in private than at house parties. The first time I agreed to go to a frat party was only because he was a freshman and had begged me to come along. Maddox was on bitch duty, had to make sure everyone had a drink in their hand, and had to be the one to clean up the house once everyone had left. Before that night, I thought I had met the one, thought I knew what it was like to be loved. 

If only I had known a love like Embry’s, I might’ve been able to save myself from the months of nightmares and internal torment. 

I moved down the countertop, wiping the space at the end of the counter where my regular usually sat. He only came in Tuesday mornings, right before his shift at the department with my father. My lips broke into a slightly forced smile as Charlie took his seat, shrugging out of his coat. 

“Regular black?” I asked as I pulled a mug from the dishwasher. 

“Yes ma’am,” he beamed; his face was old and weary. TJ talked about Charlie quite a bit, with him being the Chief and all. When I finally met him, we clicked and he swore up and down he’d only come in for breakfast or dinner on the nights I was working. He always tipped generously, and always left smiling. Last I heard, he was dating Sue, Seth and Leah’s mom. 

I glanced at Maddox from my peripheral vision; he had removed his hat, light brown hair pulled back into a small bun. He was watching me, assessing my movements much like I had been watching him earlier. I tried not to let my annoyance surface, poured Charlie’s coffee and tossed the empty canister into the sink. 

I set the mug in front of Charlie, leaning against the countertop. “The special’s blueberry pancakes.” I said cheerfully, browsing through the laminated pages of the menu. “But, you have yet to try any of the omelets – which is a sin, because they’re so delicious.” I mused, eyes scanning over the page. 

“How about just a big stack of bacon.” I glanced at him with slight disapproval. “What? Look at the crap I gotta deal with today, I deserve some pig meat.”

“Only if you get eggs with it.” I finalized, standing up straight.

“Fine.” Charlie replied bitterly, taking a sip of the steaming coffee. “Poached.” 

“Bacon burnt to a crisp?” I asked, slipping the menu back into its place under the register. Charlie nodded. 

Customers trailed in one by one over the course of the next two hours, each seated with heaping mountains of warm breakfast filling their tables. Maddox had yet to finish his coffee, but I was certain it was ice-cold by this point. When I walked past him for the umpteenth time, I swiped his mug off the countertop, dumped the contents in the sink and poured him a fresh cup. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” He said once I replaced it in front of him, leaning back on the stool when I neared. I pulled her brows together first in confusion, then annoyance. 

“Yes, I did.” I grumbled, wiping the counter around him. “My boss does keep an eye on me, and the customers.” 

Maddox pursed his lips together, settling his hands around his mug again, “You’re doing a good job.” 

“Don’t.” I hissed, turning to pile the empty and used mugs into the dishwasher up front. When I turned around to restock the napkin dispenser, Maddox was wearing a smug smile. His smugness was nothing like Embry’s - and that made me want to launch my fist right into his nose. 

“Would you prefer it if I left?” He asked. 

“Yes, actually,” I braced my hand on the counter and the other on my hip, trying to keep my face straight and emotionless, “because I don’t know why you’re here.” 

“I wanted to see you.” 

I clenched my jaw together tightly, lifting my eyes from his to scan the restaurant. Charlie was pulling his jacket over his uniform, offering me momentary relief. 

“I never wanted to see you. So, I think it’s best if you leave.” I pressed, hard eyes cutting back to the unwelcome visitors before I pushed away from the counter to meet Charlie at the till. 

Another hour passed; another hour where Maddox waited patiently, where his coffee remained untouched, another hour where I could feel my irritation building. I pushed through the doors behind the kitchen, wandering over to where Angie sat on a pile of skids. I sat down next to her, leaning against the wall for support. 

“Still there, huh?” Angie asked with a laugh, working her fingers through her cropped hair. 

“Mhm,” I sighed, fixing my ponytail. “I wish he’d leave.” 

“Tell him off.”

I rolled my eyes, “Don’t you think I haven’t tried that, Ang?” My friend tossed me a sheepish smile over her shoulder, shrugging meekly. “Debbie would be pissed if he left a bad review.”

“Would he leave a bad review?” 

I thought about it for a moment. “Probably. Just to spite me.” We exited the kitchen together, working to clear the tables on our respective halves of the floor, quickly wiping down tables and restocking condiment containers. By the time lunch pulled around, I opted out of walking down the street to buy lunch. I tossed my apron onto the skids in the back, and walked out into the dining area, around the counter with my food. 

Maddox watched me take a seat in one of the booths. Much to my dismay, he slipped off his stool, bringing his cold coffee with him. 

I watched him settle into the booth across from me; I began pouring the syrup across my two slices of french toast, trying not to pay him any mind. We sat in silence for five minutes before he spoke up, “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

I dropped my fork on my plate, folding my arm., “That’s funny.” 

“What is?”

“You’ve got a lot of balls, Maddox.” I spat, cutting through the second piece. “To show up here and pretend like I don’t have every reason to completely hate you. The only reason why I’ve been playing nice is because this is my job, and I have to be nice.” 

Maddox leaned forward. “And if we weren’t here?” 

“I would’ve kicked you in the fucking balls three hours ago.” 

He laughed, mainly to himself, folding his hands on top of the table. “Still feisty, it’s adorable.” 

“Yeah,” I growled, “my boyfriend seems to think so, too.” 

“I’m sure he does.” Maddox – for the first time that morning – took a small sip of his coffee, face even, smooth and emotionless. “Embry, isn’t it?”

I paused again, eyes burning holes into his, jaw clenching shut again. “How do you know his name?” 

“Are you happy?”

I shook my head, pushing my plate away from me. “Dammit, Maddox.” I growled, leaning back in the booth. “How do you know so much about my life here? I haven’t seen you since –” I stopped talking, pursing my lips shut tightly. I watched the slightest hint of remorse flash in his dark eyes. “You need to leave.” 

“Ainsley.”

“No. You don’t get to show up here and pretend like nothing happened – like you have a right to know me.” 

“Your friends aren’t the safest people to be around, Ains.” 

“What friends?” I asked bitterly. 

“Jacob, Embry – the rest.” His tone was suggestive as he leaned forward. “They’re walking timebombs, love, you gotta know that’s not safe.” 

“Better than a bunch of rapists –”

“I am not a rapist.” He retorted, his eyes flashed quickly and his voice was low and raspy. The sudden change in his demeanor sent a shiver down my spine, causing the hairs on my arms to stand at full attention. 

My tongue moved slowly around the words. “No. You’re just an accomplice, which is just as bad.” 

Maddox was moving quickly then. He slid out of the booth, reaching into his wallet for a twenty. He slapped it on the table, his nostrils flared angrily. “For the coffee.”

“Coffee’s two-fifty –”

“Then consider it a tip.” He growled, pulling his hat back over his head. Maddox paused for a brief moment, then inhaled deeply and bent down quickly, pressing his lips to my hair – which I tried to refrain from recoiling from. He then turned and appeared to glide towards the front door, walking into the white storm with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. I moved my eyes back down to the twenty on the table, then looked up to meet Angie’s eyes, sinking down into my seat with a sense of defeat washing over my body. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I parked next to Emily’s house, cursing myself for not thinking to pack an extra set of clothing for after my shift. The baby shower was tomorrow, and I promised Emily I would stop by after I finished at the diner to help set up. There were sisters from her hometown that would be driving in, along with the entire pack plus their significant others, and some extended family. Embry and I had gone halfsies on adorable onesies. One read “You People Are Huge” (my choice) and another read “Watch your language asshole, I’m a baby” (Embry’s choice, unfortunately). 

I slipped my boots off at the door, leaving my jacket draped over one of the kitchen chairs. “You shouldn’t be doing that.” I chided, moving to help Emily down from the mini-ladder. The kitchen had been overfilled with streamers and balloons carefully and strategically hung from banister to banister. 

“My husband wouldn’t help.” She growled, resting a hand on her swollen tummy. 

Sam popped his head out from around the corner of the living room, his thick brows pulled together. “You yelled at me and told me you could do it yourself!” 

“You’re not supposed to believe me!” Emily hissed, shoving the leftover garbage into the white bag that sat in the middle of the table. 

Embry came up from the basement with Jared on his tail; I felt my chest lighten, hands instinctively reaching forward to him. “Warm.” I mumbled happily, wrapping my arms around his stomach, pressing my cold hands against his bare back. He leaned down with a quiet chuckle, pressing his lips to my hair.

And then shoved me away quickly, arms gripping my shoulders tightly. 

“Ow.” I whined quietly, trying to squirm away from his grip. “Emb, ease up.”

“You stink.” Embry said definitively, his eyes hard and cold.

I stopped moving, feeling the heat rise in my chest. I looked around the room uncomfortably, then lowered my voice. “No, I didn’t have time to go home and change, I’m sor–”

“No, shut up.” He growled, pulling me into him again, returning his nose to my hair. Embry inhaled deeply, pulling his face away with a look of disgust before he looked over his shoulder, “Sam, c’mere.” 

I shoved his arms away from mine, hands rubbing over the skin tentatively, hoping that it wouldn’t be too heavily bruised. I planned on wearing a short-sleeved dress for the shower. Sam put his empty wrappers into the garbage, then leaned over the chair to sniff the air around me. 

His face hardened, much like Embry’s had, a certain distaste crawled over his features as a visible tremor rolled down his spine. Emily watched from behind Embry with a confused expression, carefully keeping close eyes on Sam’s frame. “That’s the scent.” Embry finally said, taking a step away from my frame. 

“They’re in Forks.” Jared said quietly from his seat on the stairs. 

“What are they doing in Forks?” 

“Who’s in Forks?” I wondered out loud, looking up at Embry for some sort of explanation. He ignored me, following Sam into the living room as the pair began conversing hastily. Jared rolled his eyes, giving Emily a knowing glance. 

“Woah, what stinks?” Paul scrunched his nose up, Jacob, Leah and Trent following suit as they entered in from the crisp outdoors. Paul and Jacob were bare-chested and wearing cut-offs, which meant they were back from their evening patrol. 

“Ainsley.” Jared grumbled in reply to Paul, his eyes narrowing in my direction.  

Emily threw a roll of tape in his general direction. “Give it a rest, Jared.”

“What’s going on?” 

Emily rolled her eyes, sitting next to me at the table, “Ainsley came across one of the scents today and brought it home, so I’m sure Sam and Embry are in the living room plotting how to eliminate the threat.” 

Paul sat on the other side of me, sniffing again. I blushed. “That’s the males – how did you manage to bring that home?” 

“Bring what home?” I asked, annoyance dripping off each word. 

“The leeches scent. You’re covered in it.” He stated, as if it were the most obvious thing.

I paused, rearing my thoughts back to my day. I always kept an eye out for anything that seemed out of place, people that seemed obviously beautiful and perfect. People that seemed restrained. “Maddox ..” I whispered quietly, feeling my chest cave abruptly. There was no way – 

“Maddox?” Trent asked from across the table. “What’s he doing in Forks?” 

“He was looking for me at Shaker’s.” I replied absently, eyes unfocused on the table in front of me. “Came by before I even showed up, didn’t leave until after lunch rush.” 

“What did he want?” Paul asked, kicking his feet up onto the table. Emily grimaced. 

I shrugged, hoping I could remain cool and collected. “No idea, honestly. That would explain how he knows you all by name – that’s what he meant when he said you were …” I sighed, letting my eyes slip shut. “This makes sense.” Kind of. 

“His scent is saturating you, Ains.” Embry drawled from the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest. Sam stood next to him, mimicking the same seriousness.

I could feel my shoulders drop forward, attempting to make myself small under the careful watch of everyone in the room. “He sat with me when I was on break.” 

“You let the scumbag sit with you?” Trent asked dubiously. 

Better rip the bandaid off. “And he might have kissed my head before he left.” I conceded. 

“Ainsley –”

“I told him to leave.” I said desperately, trying to avoid bringing my eyes to meet my boyfriends. Embry had tried his best to keep his temper from coming forward when I was around, trying to believe nothing I did was to purposely hurt him. But in that moment, I could see Leah move in between Trent and Embry, hands braced on the back of his chair. The room had shifted; it was suddenly thick, hot and uncomfortable. 

“Who’s Maddox?” Jacob asked, breaking the silence in the room. I shared a look with Trent, hoping he would keep good on his word. When he met my eyes, his face softened in understanding. The situation I had thrown myself into was not one out of choice: undoubtedly, Embry was fuming. If not because a vampire had been close enough to his imprint that I could have died, then because said vampire had actually touched me. Kissed me. 

“Someone from Seattle that I knew.” Trent said finally. “Worked with him for a few months. Not the greatest guy.” 

“Perfect. So, we’re doing the world a favour, then.” Embry suggested, anger dripping from his words. It was uncomfortable to hear him speak so freely about the idea of killing someone, although I knew they didn’t necessarily see it as murder. Couldn’t kill what was already dead. 

“What are you going to do, Emb? Kill him yourself?” Leah asked from behind Trent, her tone half-teasing.

“Yes.” 

All eyes shot to Embry then, watching his arms settle at his sides, fists trembling the slightest bit. I thought back to Maddox – small visions played across my mind. Embry’s large gray wolf ripping through his flesh, his growls filling the empty air. I tried to suppress the urge to shiver. 

“Guess we’re heading back out there.” Jacob sighed, nodding toward Leah. “Embry, maybe you should go home with Ains. If one of them knows her, it might be better if –”

“No.” He said angrily, his hard eyes cutting back to me briefly before he returned his gaze to Jacob dutifully. “I'm going with you.” 

At this point, I couldn’t tell if he was adamant about finding Maddox to kill him, or if he really didn’t want to be stuck with me. I was trying to pretend like the latter wasn’t a possibility. The room emptied quickly, each warm body following Embry out of the front door, slamming it shut behind them. Trent, Emily and I sat around the kitchen table, quietly looking around the half-decorated room. 

“Better finish this, then.” I said finally, grabbing a roll of tape. Emily and my brother watched me for only a moment, both of their faces heavy, before Trent stood and came to help. We spent the following hour hanging multi-coloured ribbon from the ceiling, turning Emily’s kitchen and living room into open areas with lots of space, full of balloons and streamers. 

I offered to give Trent a ride back to Leah’s, seeing as Jacob had been their original ride to Emily’s. Once we were in the Jeep, he turned the heat on full and turned to me. 

“Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon, Ains.” He sighed, leaning his elbow against the window. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” 

“That’s a load of shit,” he grumbled, “Maddox gave you hell.”

“Maddox wasn’t the one who defiled me and left me on the bathroom floor.” 

Trent clenched his jaw. “No, but he was the one who let frat scum slip a pill into your drink.” 

“Trent, leave it alone.” 

“Why?” My brother asked, neck craned so he could look at me with a hard expression. “Maddox deserves everything Embry wants to do to him, and probably more.” 

I didn’t respond; my hands gripped the steering wheel tightly while my eyes focused on navigating through the white sheet of snow that whirled around in the darkness. I didn’t want to talk about Maddox. I didn’t want anyone to know about what had happened, or give Embry more of a reason to get angry. I didn’t want to make excuses for the man, but I didn’t want to think about my boyfriend taking pleasure in killing anyone. 

“Ainsley,” Trenton finally broke the silence, a sigh tumbling from lips. “Do you wanna go home? We can go home. I’ll stay at the house with you.” 

I shook my head vehemently. “No, I should probably be there when Embry comes back.” I sniffled, wiping my nose on my sleeve. I was still sick and the outside weather wasn’t helping me feel any less crappy. “You’re living with Leah now?” I asked, glancing over at Trent in the darkness. 

He shrugged. “My idea. Took a lot of persuasion.” 

“I bet.” I mumbled, turning into Leah’s driveway. “She doesn’t seem like she’s the type to jump head first into all of this.” 

“Definitely not.” He laughed, pulling his hat over his ears. “See you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” I nodded, offering him a smile as he exited the vehicle. 

The ride back to Embry and Jacob’s side of the reservation was slow; neither of the men were home when I arrived. To spare any sort of argument later, I showered as quickly and thoroughly as I could, and threw in a load of laundry in hopes of eliminating any traces of the vampire stench. The clock on the kitchen wall read 11:56 PM by the time I finished eating and cleaned the dishes.

My eyes fought sleep until my phone read 2:00 AM. I finally gave up waiting for Embry to come home, and gave in to the exhaustion that draped over me like a thick blanket. I locked the windows tightly, ensuring to keep any harsh winds from coming through. Then, I collapsed onto my side of the bed, pulling the thick white duvet up to my chin, shivering slightly in the bed that was colder than usual.

[barleyo]

Hi!! Idk if you’re taking requests but I’m fully obsessed with your Z smut writing. Could you write something for him with a female reader who’s kinda chubby?

Evacuate the Dancefloor.

(Aaron Z. X Chubby! Fem! Reader)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, so sorry for any delay! Reminder that this will be cross posted to my AO3, and that my requests are ALWAYS open. Thanks for the support, lovelies.

“Yeah, well, anyways, he said he left his practice bag at home, and he needs you to drive it to the studio. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, Jesse, but why didn’t Z call me himself?”

“Phone’s in the bag, chicky. Really unfortunate, but I'll tell him you’re coming. Thanks.” Jesse hung up, cutting the line short.

(Y/N) sighed and twiddled with the landline’s phone cord for a second more, weaving her fingers around the coiled line. Sitting on her and Aaron’s shared, stuffed couch, she got up and made her way up the staircase. Really, she had very little idea where his dance bag could have been, as Aaron tended to not have specific spots for anything, instead leaving things where only he would know how to find.“He’s gonna get a real ear full when I find this thing.”

(Y/N) searched, digging through the closet, uprooting shoes and dirty clothes. She walked over to the bed and dropped down to the floor, running a blind hand under it. She felt her hand touch a canvas-like material, then a cold, metal zipper. Grabbing the bag by the strap, she pulled it out and dug through its contents. “Phone, shoes, rubber bands, charger, lotion, etc.” She shoveled past everything, taking note to make sure he would have everything he would need, wanting her trip to be one-way.

She threw the bag into the passenger seat of the car and drove to the studio. She parked and grabbed the bag, slinging it over her shoulder. The studio was flat, but long. It had many rooms, about one for each activity possible, the dance room being one of the closest to the entrance, considering the studio’s size. (Y/N) hated the place, as she could not help but get lost every time she visited.

“Hello? I’m here, with the, uh, bag.”

“Oh, right, right, right,” Jesse came walking out from the pottery room, clay covered his jeans, apron, and hands and he held a small vase, “you remember where the dance studio is, right? Third door down after you turn the corner. Left side?”

“Mhm, I should be good this time, I think,” (Y/N) said, hopefully.

Jesse snorted and walked past her, giving her shoe a gentle kick on the way out as a goodbye and walked the vase to his kiln at the end of the hallway. She tried to kick back, but he was too quick for her.

(Y/N) gripped the duffel bag at her side and crossed the corridor, turning the corner. She looked at each door, deciphering which one she should enter. She was stuck between two of them, both plain and unmarked. She stared at them until she heard a loud creak from behind her, Aaron Z. emerging from the door.

“You done looking at the bathrooms, (Y/N)? Come in if you are.” He disappeared back into the room, snickering.

She walked in after him and gently shut the door behind her. “I heard you decided to leave your practice bag at home. Funny how that works, huh?” She dropped the bag, crouched down, and dug through it, pulling out a shirt and a sweatband, throwing them at Z. “How can you leave the house with what you need most, Aaron?”

“Well, I come here without you all the time, don’t I?” He caught the shirt and examined it.

“Yeah, yeah, really cute. Your phone is in here too by the–” She paused while watching him change shirts, tossing his old one to the side. They held eye contact while he changed, (Y/N)’s eyes dipping to Z’s wispy trail of pubic hair. His eyes relaxed when he noticed her staring.

“You know,” he grabbed her hand, pulling her up, “you’re staring at me awfully hard.Is there something you wanna say?”

“No, it’s just, uhm, nothing.”

He gripped her wrist, pushing her back onto the studio’s mirror, and held her arm over her head. “Nothing? So you like to look for no reason? Pervert,” he said, leaning into (Y/N)’s neck, his breath running over it. He placed rough, nipping kisses over her throat, stopping only to bite and suck on each tender spot.

“No, ‘m not a pervert, I swear, I wasn’t staring!”

“Mhm? Right.”

(Y/N) winced, the pleasure-pain from his bites sending waves over her body. She placed her hand on the back of his head, holding him in place while he nursed on her collarbone. Z pulled away to see the dark patches he had left behind.

“Ow, gentle please..”

“Doesn’t hurt that bad, big baby.” He let his hand trail her body, gripping her plush tits, massaging them. Pushing under her shirt and bra, he ran the pads of his fingers over her nipples. Feeling them grow hard under his touch, he groaned and nestled back into the nape of her neck. “That feels good now, huh, baby?”

“Yes, better now,” she hummed. Her legs crossed as she tried to silence her arousal, eyes glossing over.

Aaron brought his leg up, pushing it in between her fat, slick thighs. He nudged her clothed cunt from outside her shorts. He rocked his leg back and forth, rubbing against her clit. Her dampness leaked through the material, creating a wet patch. “Let’s get these off, mkay?” Aaron quickly unbuttoned and pulled both her panties and shorts off, eager to feel her bare cunt and all its wetness. He slid his fingers through her folds, coating them. “Excited? Good.”

Plunging two of his digits into her hole, he started his signature rough pace, giving her no time to think of anything but your own pleasure: the constant impact and squelch of his fingers in her tight pussy. He curled them upwards the deeper he got, pushing against her spot with his thick fingers.

Her hips bucked in tandem with his thrusts, trying to match his pace, failing. He was too quick for her. He could wear her out so easily, and he knew it.

“Look,” he demanded, pushing her head down to look at his fingers going in and out of her. “Look at how you take my fingers, look at how good I'm making you feel. Who else can do this to you, huh?”

“Nobody, Z, nobody. Just you– fuck!” (Y/N)’s heat snapped, her sticky cum dripping down her thick, quivering legs. “Please, please, so good,” she whined.

“Please what?”

“Please more, need more.” She wrapped her unstable leg around Z’s, wordlessly begging for the rest of him.

He nodded and flipped her around, pulling her hips in the air. “Keep watching, I want you to see what you look like taking me like a good girl.” He turned her head forward so that she looked directly into the mirrored wall. Aaron put her arms behind her back, holding onto them while he slipped inside of her. He slammed his hips into her back, the sound of skin slapping filled the room, as did the musk of sweat. His cock hit her cervix’s tip, sending warmth throughout her whole body.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “look at how your tits jiggle like that. Fuck, you’re so fine.” he let go of (Y/N)’s arms and grabbed her soft love handles instead, steadying himself.

She watched as her face flushed with each of his thrusts. He slowed down slightly, focusing on deepening his hits. Her abused cunt clenched and unclenched around his shaft, sending a tingle through both of their bodies.

“Almost, don’t stop, don’t, so close,” (Y/N) moaned, just under a scream.

She stood on her toes as she finished, squeezing tightly around Aaron. He groaned, pumping into her one final time, emptying his seed into her.

“Mm, see?” He pulled out and watched as his cum came out, being pushed out by (Y/N)’s still spasming pussy. He pulled her shorts back up and turned her body around to face him. “Keep that in there, yeah? For me?” She nodded and kissed his cheek.

Stumbling out to the door, she turned around and paused. “Uh, Aaron?”

“Hm?”

“The studio is soundproof, right?”

He picked his duffel bag up from the middle of the room where it was left and grabbed his phone, the light of the screen illuminating his face. She could make out his distinctive, toothy smirk. “Take a guess, babe.”

“FUCK.”

[siribaes]

crusin’

han lue x (oc) [ black!fem! ]

a late night, open road, passenger side driving around los angeles with her favorite guy.

contents: fluff. some angst. smutty thoughts. brief smoking cigarette mention. brief mention of death. rival gang dynamics. mild peril han drives fast ofc <3. nothing too major.

suggested tunes📻: protect my heart by kelis, it’s whatever by aaliyah, luxurious by gwen stefani, run to the sun by n.e.r.d., boogie 2nite by tweet, try again by aaliyah

author’s note: just a little somethin’ featuring my number one guy han <3. this was heavily inspired by romeo must die, i loved jet and aaliyah’s dynamic & this takes place after better luck tomorrow and before fast and furious/tokyo drift. y’all lmk if i should make this into a fic…🤔 / not edited or proofread

. . . ZOOOOM!

an electric blue, 1995 mazda widebody fd rx7 flys down the street. driving through lights, regardless of the color change. the wind brushes against chickie’s cheeks as the car veered left. she stretches her arm out the window, she hummed. the air is a bit chilly but it feels good against her skin. the mazda slowed down at a red light.

“i thought you said you wanted to cruise. it feels like you’re racin’,” chickie murmurs pulling her arm back inside. she turned toward the driver’s side.

he glances at her, his lips forming into a lopsided grin. “was cooped up, haven’t been behind the wheel all day, let me flex,”

flex he did.

chickie’s heart fluttered watching his skillful hands maneuver the gear shift with ease. his nimble fingers tap on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music. a part of her mind wonders how his hand would fit into hers or how the rough callous on his palms would feel against her skin.

“can we stop at the store? i want some snacks,” chickie spoke aloud. she focused her eyes on the road and away from from his hands.

“it’s one up ahead,” with one hand, he effortlessly maneuvers the wheel, his palm gently guiding it as the car turns at a right corner.

so smooth.

the madza slowly pulls into a spot across from a brightly, colored convenience store. chickie unbuckles her seat belt.

“you want anything?”

“nah, i’ll just share with you,” chickie playfully rolls her eyes. she steps out of the car and heads straight into the store.

chickie comes out minutes later with a boat load of snacks and drinks. already, half way done with her snickers, she almost chokes, from she sees. her friend, her favorite guy.

han leans against the car, his body, totally relaxed like he doesn’t have a care in the world. a cigarette hangs from his full lips, as han rakes a hand though his inky, black tresses. the street is quiet as the plastic bag swishes back and forth. with every step, chickie feels like her heart is gonna leap out of her throat.

she can’t really pin-point when it happened or how it happened but it just did. it was like chickie went to bed one way and woke up another. every little thing han lue did set her a flame, even simple things like tonight, calling her up at 1:00 AM asking if she wanted to go for a ride. she all but leapt out of her bed room window when heard the engine of the madza coming down the street.

as exhilarating as her crush on han was she knew that it wouldn’t go anywhere. he was her best friend and on top of that the growing rivalry between his crew and her cousins, both vying for control over parts of south-east la, didn’t add much to the equation. in fact it subtracted from it. so chickie just settled for her mushy, unrequited feelings and distracted herself with other things. this time, nitpicking han’s smoking habits.

“i thought you were quitting,” chickie hoists herself on the hood of han’s car. she digs into the bag, pulling out soda and a pack of twinkies.

a week prior, han told chickie that he was going to quit, cold turkey. that and some other ramblings of needing to get out of “this place”. over the course of their friendship, chickie can tell when han is tired or sleep deprived. typically a man of few words, he becomes talkative and super rambly when exhausted. there was a small part of that was happy han was quitting, but she should’ve known better, old habits die hard.

han takes a long pull. he blows the smoke away from chickie’s direction. “i am. haven’t had a cig in three days,”

“but you said you went cold turkey,” chickie takes a bite of her twinkie.

“listen,” han leans towards chickie, “i’ll go cold turkey when you tell y’re pops about your new jewelry,” he reached towards her stomach and lightly flicked her belly button piercing.

chickie squatted his hand away. “boy, please another piercing isn’t gonna hurt anyone. my body, my choice. besides, cigarettes aren’t good for you,”

han chuckles. he takes another pull, blowing the smoke up towards the sky. he shrugged. “does it matter? health isn’t my priority. especially the way i’m livin’,”

chickie frowns. “i don’t like when you talk like that,”

han take another pull, longer than the previous. the cigarette is a nothing but a stubby bud now. he flicks it away. slowly, he turns and faces her.

“you worry about me too much,”

“i feel like i don’t worry enough,” chickie said quietly. she avoids his eyes, keeping them toward the lights of the convenience store.

“you hoggin’ all the snacks,” before chickie could respond, han pulls her hand towards him. a prickly, chill runs down her spine. The roughness of han’s callouses feel good against her skin. frozen in place, chickie watches han lean down and bite the twinkie in her hand.

she feels everything.

the slight, soft-wetness of han’s mouth on her skin. his nimble tongue as it gently slides and swirls around the tips of chickie’s fingers. her works in over time, completely thudding against her chest, as han pulls away from her. for second, chickie sees a certain glint in the deep, brown pools of his eyes.

he chews. han smirks at her.

“there’s a race on saturday. you should come,” han says, leaning back, casually.

chickie took a sip of her soda. hoping for the coolness of the drink to cool her down. she takes another sip and thinks, if he could do that, so could i.

“i dunno,” chickie trails. she innocently, fiddled with her bracelet, playing with the race-car charm, the same one han got her a year ago, in honor of the mutual love for cars. she looks at him, batting her eyelashes, subtly, “i might be, busy,”

han’s eye brow rose. “busy?”

“yeah, i might have plans, or something,”

“what, like a date?” chickie notices a slight change in han’s demeanor. his jaw tightens, emphasizing the angles of his cheekbones.

chickie attempts to channel her best han impression, shrugging her shoulders in the most nonchalant way. han grows quiet, slowly nodding his head. he leans off the car and positions himself in front of her. in quick movements, han pulls chickie close. fingers flutter across her exposed stomach.

han tickles her.

“han! stop, please! o-okay, okay, okay! i’ll come, i can’t breathe,” chickie squeals, attempting to push han away from her.

“say you’ll come,” han somehow managed to snake a hand to the back of chickie’s neck. he gently holds her in place, while he continues to tickle her.

“ooo-okay! i will come, please,” han eases off of her. he watched as chickie caught her breath. she shoves han’s shoulder, “asshole,”

they laugh.

“seriously though,” han rolls his shoulder, keeping his gaze on chickie, “i need you there. i wanna see my favorite girl,”

chickie smiles, gently. the flames of her unrequited crush roaring back inside of her. han loops an arm around chickie’s shoulder, she leans her head against him. savoring this moment, allowing herself a little leeway to dream about what could’ve been.

[saeithoshiswife]

How haikyu boys would act today

~If haikyu boys were highschoolers today how would they act? This i purely based on my opion ofc and if your guys like this please send me more charcters.~

Includes- Atsumu, bokuto, kurro, kenma,

Bokuto-

Says gyatt on the regular to random girls (Borderline sexual harrasment) or uses it in everyday language like "Ive gyatt to get to class guys"

Definitely used to naruto run in middle school to all of his classes

so annoying in class and when the teacher says something hell immdentaily throw his hands up and say he didnt even do anything. He might even ask the quiet girl in the corner if he did anything and when she doesnt respond he responds for her like "She agrees with me you just cant hear her"

used to say sheesh along with the lip biting and pose

"im not like other guys ive seen the notebook" when it was probably akkashi who was watching it and bokuto came in the room for 0.2 seconds

I think him and kuroos jokes would be either racist, homophobic, sexiest or all

used to wear the iconic black savage shirt with the red border around the font

he makes so much fun of the girls he likes

Atsumu-

one of those rich boys with the moms that are inlove with them and think he cant do any wrong especially to women

big slur user especially to your face. if he doesnt like you hell say them or hell just say them like its no big deal

owns a speed boat that he illegal drives and host partys on. hell post on his snap story being like 'this party is such bruh p/u'

cries to his mom

punches walls

used to dress and act like josh richards and noah beck in 2021

a literal women hater like os much its hard to belive hes not guy but hes always objectifying them so hes not

used to moan in middle school thinking it was funny

duck lips with the peace sign all the time and hes being completley serious

in a frat when hes in college

peaked in highschool

Kenma-

when speaking to a women hell ask her what her favortie game/anime is and then ask her to name 3 charchters and when she does he will immdeantiley discredit those charcters. Also he will call the anime she chose super popular so theirs no way shes an actual fan

smells like shit an stays up all night so there bags under his eyes. his hair is so greasy you could cook with it

"erm actually- goku solos every single anime verse"

call people racial slurs on the games only

follows that chicki guy who dances everyday until he gets a girlfriend

victim of the 2020 bleach phase

most horrible genshin impact player he mains mona, Rosiaria, bediou, itto and bought all the the outfits that came with them.

has a hatsume miku body pillow

since he doesnt shower he will just coat himself in axe body spray

grows out of everything and peaks right after college

Kuroo-

i honestly had no idea what to say about this man so i tried my best i belive this man is a sexy angel from the bottom of my heart so i had to truly think

used to stink like kenma but grew out of it in middle school

when he gets rejected he'll post 'nice guys always finish last'

acts dumb but is really smart

calls double dates 2 mans

wear his hat backwards with the sides of his hair sticking from under

white airforce energy

slept with everyone but somehow hes not slut shamed

with call girls whores when his body count is double theirs

doesnt believe in womens rights but also doesnt want to become a man so hes just insecure

in volleyball he will try to spike as hard as he can and purposefully hit someone in the face

became a nice respectable man because i believe his mother doesnt play like that and taught him a lesson at his old age for repecting women

secretly a munch and whorships his girlfriend acting like a baby in private and then an asshole in pubic

"this ones for you babe" the it goes out giving you the ick

poses in the gym mirror for his snap streaks

used to follow andrew tate and all those man quotes before his mom told him to cut it out

[fandom-queen-13]

40. Identity reveal/major secret revealed for the writing prompt game!

I'm curious to see what you'll do with it. Hope you're doing well <3

Ooh, I think you might like this one! It's kind of a follow-up to my little writing snippet Never, inspired by your whump ideas about duskwort.

-----

"What happened to Constance?" Kate gnashed her teeth at the grinning McCracken. Next to her, the boys sat tied up like she was.

"No need to worry about her, little ducky! She will be safe with us. You don't need to worry your pretty little head!" He tapped her forehead for an added gesture.

"Oh, here comes our little friend now!"

Indeed, the door did open to reveal the last Ten Man, but something was wrong. He walked in a state of shock and confusion rather than glee. In his arms was the limp form of Constance Contraire.

But even when sleeping, she was never usually this...still. Her face was waxy, her eyes closed, and it barely looked like she was breathing.

"What did you do?" Kate asked, leaping to her feet the best she could with her limbs tied up. "She looks dead!"

"You were supposed to give the girl a few electric shocks! Little kitten's right, she looks dead!"

"I don't know." For once, the Ten Man looked bewildered and horrified, something that did not come naturally to his face. "I chased the chicky into a corner, but she took a pill and collapsed in front of me!"

Sticky shook his head furiously, almost knocking his glasses off his nose. "No, Constance wouldn't do that! She wouldn't overdose in front of you! You're-you're lying!"

But indeed, as the Ten Man shifted Constance's still form in his arms, a small unlabelled orange bottle fell out of her loosened grasp, rolling to a stop in front of Sticky's tied-up feet.

[blakelysco-pilot]

Oooh lovie those soft kiss prompts are sooo 🥹🥹🥹!! I’d love to see 12 for Rosie & Jo and 15 for Val & Ev!

Thanks for being patient on these- they were a lot of fun!

Prompts are from this list & as always, asks are open chickies! 💗

12. Sharing a kiss on New Year’s Eve - Rosie & Jo

He remembered talking about this on New Year’s Eve of ‘43-‘44. Sitting in the Officers hut with Croz, Blakely and Douglass, the latter having brandished a bottle Vat 69 from somewhere. They had sat around, talking about what they’d be doing if they were home, and now 1945 was almost fully out the door to make way for ‘46- the first year not tarnished by war- and it was happening.

The band was playing at Minton’s and he was spinning the woman of his dreams around a crowded dance floor.

New Year’s Eve was for friends, he remembered telling the three other men, and now the four of them were together with their respective sweethearts. But he wasn’t focused on them at the moment. No, he was focused on the woman in his arms whose eyes were crinkled at the corners as she laughed. Her hands in his as he spun her around, the skirt of the maroon dress she had chosen for the occasion fanned out around her; she was radiant and carefree, and Rosie had never felt such complete contentment in all of his life. This was where he had prayed so hard to be. To come home and be able to have her in his arms. A year ahead of him and Jo with endless possibilities.

“Look at you,” he grinned, pressing his lips against the shell of her ear as he spun her back into his arms. “Stunning, sweetheart.”

“Robbie!”

“You are. I should have said it a hundred times over by now…”

“How many drinks have you had?” She teased, stepping in time with him as they continued to dance.

“I promise, it’s not the whiskey.”

“Robert Rosenthal, don’t lie to me.” She beamed.

“Not lying,” shaking his head, he let his hands slide down to her waist so he could pick her up and spin her, the excitement of midnight drawing closer by the second. “God, look at you!”

When her feet were finally back on solid ground, she couldn’t help but grin back at him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her nose to his, eyes softening as she took in his smile, blue eyes sparkling in the low light of Minton’s.

“Almost midnight…” she grinned.

“Tell me, Miss Harris, is there a fella in this place who gets your midnight kiss?”

“There is…”

“Lucky,” Rosie teased, nosing at her cheek. “I am a lucky son of a gun.”

“No my love, I’m the lucky one.”

Not waiting for the clock to strike twelve, Rosie pulled her flush to his body with all the flourish he could muster. With a smile, he let his hands come to rest gently at the base of her neck before slanting his lips over hers with ease. They didn’t need to wait for midnight anymore; he was home just like they both had pined for, and he could kiss her whenever he wanted.

15. Sharing a surprise kiss- Ev & Val

The first thing Val heard as she opened the door of the apartment was music. Not music she would expect to hear knowing her mother was downstairs, but something from Olive when she had introduced them to modern music. Someone named Van Morrison; a song that Everett had ultimately begged Olive to find on a record for him on one of her last trips to her time, a record he said reminded him of Val.

“Ev?” She dropped her purse on the small table by the door, her gloves and hat following.

“In here!” He called back over the music, and it was then Val picked up on the smell of something coming from the kitchen. Was he…?

“Are you cooking?”

“Pulled a few pots from one of the boxes,” he turned from the counter where she could just make out that he was opening a bottle of wine. “Thought you might like a break.”

“We had nothing in the icebox, honey…”

“I went down to the store,” wiping his hands on a dish towel, he came to stand in front of her. “That little Italian one your mother always goes to.”

“Did you ask her for help?” Val narrowed her eyes at him.

“No,” he grinned. “I've seen you make sauce enough times, it seemed easy enough. Though, breading the chicken cutlets got a little messy for a bit.”

Ev caught her just as she jumped into his arms, her lips immediately finding his. He held her against him, hands gripping her thighs as he backed them up towards the kitchen table, lips still pressed against hers with fervor.

They hadn’t been home long, and had just begun to piece together a life in the apartment her mother had saved for them while simultaneously planning a wedding and looking for a place of their own. Their belongings were strewn around rooms in boxes and, and their footlockers that they had yet to unpack. Val had been working tirelessly with the help of their friends to make the apartment a home, for however temporary, and knowing that Everett had thought enough to make them dinner, was enough to have her face split from how hard she was grinning.

“Thank you…” she gasped, pulling away for air. “

“What for?”

“You made dinner…”

“You’re making this place a home,” he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Least I could do was boil some rigatoni and cook tomatoes.”

“You would have made an excellent addition to the Clubmobile, honey.”

“I think I was better suited to fly the planes and flirt with the girl in the truck, not actually make the donuts.”

“Well, I’ll take what I can get now.”

“Oh, is that how it is?”

“That’s how it is…” she giggled, pressing her lips to his softly. “Did you pick up something for dessert?”

“Now, what makes you think there’s dessert involved?”

“Because you’re playing that record from Olive, and I’m sitting on our kitchen table.”

“In that case,” swiftly picking her up, he shut the gas off on the stove before crossing the room towards their bedroom. “Dessert first.”

[catsafarithewriter]

A/N: PART 23 of the Bedlam au!

X

The Other Baron freezes and Haru twists her hands free. The immobilising reaction in her limbs have slackened, and she almost stumbles in surprise, only to be steadied by Other Muta's paw upon her shoulder.

Ah, right.

She'd almost forgotten the rest of the Other Bureau, and she tenses, bracing for the ensuing argument.

"I have to go home, Muta."

"I know, Chicky." He sounds different – tired, and Haru realises she can't remember the last time she heard Other Muta being anything but cheerfully upbeat. He looks drained now, slightly stooped like a puppet with its strings loosened. "Hey, birdbrain, we good to go?"

Other Toto tilts his head, watching something beyond the Bureau balcony windows. "There's two of them this time, enough to keep him occupied for longer this time, but not by much. If she's going, you'd better make it now."

Other Muta glances to the Other Baron. The Creation's head is tilted, as if caught mid-thought, but the brows continue to twitch. Occasionally a finger will flicker.

Haru is sure she sees the ghost of a smile catch on the corner of his lips.

"No time for dilly-dallying, Chicky; time to skedaddle," Other Muta prompts, and propels her in the direction of the Bureau doors.

Haru can't help it; she cranes her neck back to catch another glimpse of the Other Baron. "What's happening to him? It's not the same as my freezing, is it?"

"Nah," Other Muta dismisses. The doors swing shut behind them, closing off Haru's view. "He's just got too many plates in the air at once, and this one's taking all his focus."

"What plate – oh."

Between Toto's column and the archway out, there is a giant ball, seemingly woven of silk thread, or perhaps wool. At Haru's current diminished size, it could hold at least three of her comfortably, and even as she watches, more strands slither across the surface. Within, lights shimmer.

"What's that?"

"The reason you're getting outta here." Other Muta steers her towards the archway which will lead her back to her world. "But we ain't got long before – oh, sh–"

"GET BACK HERE!"

The Other Baron erupts through the Bureau doors, moving with unnatural speed with legs longer than Haru remembers. His face looks different – and not just with the unfamiliar rage – but not in any way Haru wants to get closer to see.

Haru tries to stumble to the archway, to her portal home, but Other Muta's paw on her shoulder holds her in place. The tiredness she'd seen earlier in him has vanished; back is that undaunted cheerfulness that now sets her nerves on edge. It feels artificial, in a way she'd never noticed before.

"Where do you think you're going, Chicky?"

She squirms in his grip, just enough to meet his uncanny smile. "Home, Muta, please–"

Her voice catches as she spots the threads, silver and sliver-thin, rising from him. Like silk, or cobwebs...

Or puppet strings.

She drops a hand into her bag, but the action is sluggish, struggling as another immobilising spell creeps through her – but now she can see the web she's snagged against, trapping her in place.

The Other Baron has slowed, the rage replaced by reassurance of his trapped companion prey, and yet there is still an ugliness to his emotions. "Do you really think you can just leave, Miss Haru? After all the time you've spent here? After all the effort I've put in?"

Only Haru's fingers are free, and they scrabble at the contents of her bag. "What are you?" she rasps through numbed lips.

"Why, I'm your friend, Miss Haru. I'm the Baron you wanted." He approaches, and his limbs grow long and thin – they had always been gaunt, but now they are beyond skeletal. His hands become nothing but claws. "Don't you recognise me?"

"I think I would remember wishing for this," she hisses, and her fingers find purchase on her penknife. She slices through the web mooring her hand. Her arm judders free and snaps more of the threads anchoring her, the knife severing what didn't immediately give, and she hears the not-Baron give an unholy screech.

She doesn't afford him a glance – she doesn't have the time and, anyway, she can clearly hear his frantic approach – and she sweeps her penknife up, cleaving the web binding Other Muta's paw.

His grip loosens, and Haru stumbles back. Just a few more steps – the archway home is so close – and her legs snag against more cobwebs. She slips. She sees Other Muta's paw come for her again – she slashes with the knife – misses – and finally she glimpses the terrible, furious form of the not-Baron, sunken face and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth –

Other Muta's paw snags the lapels of her coat. A smile – small and lopsided – ghosts across his face.

"Don't come back, Chicky."

And he pushes her through the archway.

Just before the portal swallows her up, she sees another burst of light from the silk sphere. Within, she glimpses two humanoid silhouettes, and then she is stumbling out onto into her world.

She spins around, but the doorway is already gone. Instead, her Sanctuary lies open before her, empty and quiet.