#except NOPE she took an extra 2 hours out of my schedule at the start of the day for me to do someone elses work

[phagodyke]

my god. new contender for most shite day at work this year so far

another morning another free bus journey..

[aethersea]

May I request 41 - First Kiss and 94 - Hair Brushing/Braiding for the Leverage OT3, please? (Also extra bonus points if you give Eliot beads in his hair like in The Ice Man Job, because we didn't get NEARLY enough of that in the show) Thank you!

I cannot believe I wrote this whole thing out and then never published it. I’m so sorry, it’s been at least twenty-four years since you sent in this ask, please accept my humble apologies and also this ficlet.

However, this prompt is just pure fluff, and I hate to tell you this but I am not a fluff writer. I just can’t pull off that unadulterated sweetness. I am in this fandom for the shenanigans, first, last and foremost! So this fic is now a 5+1 of Eliot and Parker trying to seduce Hardison.

1. Parker thinks they need to give him gifts, so she goes through her stash and picks out the largest, fanciest jewel she’s ever stolen. Then she realizes: Hardison likes stories. He spends hours giving their aliases histories and pets and allergies and favorite foods, he can get a whole sordid history of jealousy and betrayal from a single corporate email chain, and Parker knows for a cold fact that he writes little stories with his online friends about being wizards together.

She goes through her stash again and picks out the most cursed thing she’s ever stolen.

It’s a jeweled statuette, almost as tall as her forearm, made of gold and studded with precious and semi-precious stones. Mysterious deaths have befallen five separate owners of this thing. Its base is dented from the time it was used to bludgeon Owner Number Three to death. The tiny rubies it has for eyes follow you across the room.

Parker puts a bow on it and leaves it in Hardison’s room while he’s sleeping. He wakes up to this horrible little statue watching him from his bedside table.

He texts the group chat, Hey did anyone put an evil little gold guy in my bedroom last night? But Parker chickens out and says nothing (drunkenly betting Eliot that she can seduce Hardison is one thing, but admitting that she likes him is something else altogether). Everyone else texts back variations on “nope.” (Except Sophie, who just sends back a string of heart eyes emojis and a wikipedia link. She loves cursed artifacts.) So Hardison puts the statue away in a closet somewhere and figures he’ll deal with it later.

Parker is mildly offended that he put her gift in a closet. She goes into his room the next night and puts it back on the bedside table, where it clearly belongs.

This goes on for a week. Hardison puts the statue in a desk drawer, then in one of the cabinets in the office downstairs, then in the dumpster down the street. Every day he wakes up to those glittering red eyes watching him sleep. He’s asked his internet buddies if anyone knows a good exorcist. Hardison doesn’t really believe in curses, but also? What the fuck. What the fuck.

~

2. Eliot assumes the drunken bet will be forgotten by morning. What kind of world would it be if people always followed through on promises they made while they could barely stay vertical? So he spends the morning nursing his hangover and cleaning his knives. Cleaning guns is no good while hungover—all the snaps and clicks of popping things in and out of place sound like actual gunfire when you’re hungover, it’s a nightmare—but knives are quiet and have no moving parts. Buffing and polishing them is soothingly repetitive work, and every once in a while he can throw one at one of the dartboards on the walls and reassure himself that his reflexes are still sound even after that much tequila.

It’s only when he gets Hardison’s text about the golden statuette that magically appeared in his room overnight that Eliot realizes Parker’s actually going for it. After some internal debate about whether he’s going to stoop to this or not, Eliot decides what the hell and starts making plans.

Eliot agrees that gifts are the way to go, but not stolen gifts. Not things. Anyone can give a thing. Proper wooing is about giving experiences.

Eliot plans for three days. On the fourth day, he and Hardison have their irregularly scheduled monthly coffee date, and Eliot texts him beforehand to say he wants to do it at the brewpub this time. Hardison arrives to find a deceptively simple meal: basic country fare perfected through years of experimentation, made with the best ingredients Eliot can get his hands on. And Eliot, after all, is still a retrieval specialist. There’s very little in the world he can’t get his hands on.

And yet the night ends and somehow he has not gotten his hands on Hardison.

This is just not right. Eliot knows how to deploy a smolder, okay, Tangled reference aside he is damn good at flirting and he knows the looks he’s giving Hardison are clear as day. It’d be one thing if Hardison had turned him down, or if he’d been uneasily unwilling, or even if his eyes had widened slightly in suppressed panic and he’d abruptly found a reason to leave. Eliot can take rejection, bet or no, and he’d have bowed out graciously without a fuss. But this was much, much worse.

Hardison didn’t even notice he was flirting.

He’s going to have to up his game.

~

3. “How do you seduce people?” Parker asks bluntly, turning up at Sophie’s door just past midnight.

Sophie, despite the hour, is utterly delighted by the question.

This goes as well as you would expect.

~

4. Eliot’s taken a lot of dates to sports games. Hardison may prefer sparkly elves with purple lightning magic to a decent MMA fight, but baseball is the American pastime. Eliot gets them perfect seats, hot dogs from the best vendor in the stadium, even chilled beer that he smuggles in without letting it get warm. It’s going to be a perfect game.

And it is. At first. Hardison, it turns out, has a lot of opinions about baseball. What he does not have is an understanding of the rules. They’re not even into the second inning by the time Eliot finally snaps and starts arguing with him about it.

They make it all the way to the fifth inning before Eliot realizes that Hardison’s basing his complaints off the rules of a game from a Star Wars novel.

They’re at the bottom of the eighth before Eliot will speak to him again.

~

5. Eliot and Parker are drunk again. This is not intentional. They didn’t even mean to come to this bar, but the smoothie place with the fried oreos that Eliot had brought Parker here to try was playing such incredibly bad music that they’d ordered the oreos to go and fled. The bar was just the coziest looking place on the block, and of course they’d ordered drinks to avoid being rude––Eliot had entertained himself for a few minutes scouring the menu for something that would pair well with fried oreos and popcorn chicken.

And now they’re drunk. The conversation has, perhaps inevitably, turned to the ongoing bet.

“I tried everything!” Parker wails. “I laughed at every joke, I touched my hair constantly, I got him talking about things he likes.” She thunks her forehead on the bar. “All that happened is now I know the complete history of orcs in western literature.”

“Hardison wouldn’t know flirting if it pinched him on the ass,” Eliot grumbles.

Parker slaps his arm. “No pinching Hardison!”

“I’m not going to—I don’t pinch people!”

Parker’s ignoring him. Eliot pouts and takes another sip of his drink. He’s not entirely sure what this one is––it’s blue and kind of fizzy, that’s all he can say for sure. Parker took over the drinks menu several glasses ago, and she’s been picking them based on what has the most fun name to say. Eliot’s pretty sure the alcohol content’s been doubling with each order.

“Eliot,” Parker slurs, “we need to work together.”

“What?”

Parker lifts her head from the bar and frowns at him, the way she does when she’s figured out the obvious solution and is just waiting for everyone else to get on the same page. It’s adorable. It’s always adorable, but right now her eyes are wide and slightly unfocused from the alcohol and she’s listing sideways a little, almost as if she’s unbalanced, and it is the most adorable thing Eliot has ever seen. Parker’s never unbalanced, but some part of Eliot’s fuzzy brain thinks she’s about to fall on top of him and cannot wait to catch her.

“You can’t seduce Hardison,” Parker points out. Eliot is drunk enough to get offended by this, but too drunk to get out a complaint before she continues, “I can’t seduce Hardison. But if we work together, the two of us can definitely seduce Hardison. Together.”

Eliot stares at her. Then he takes another sip of his fizzy blue drink. Later, when questioned, he will blame his next words on that drink.

“Worth a shot.”

They take Hardison to a movie. They research for three weeks beforehand. They find the best movie theater in town, with the nicest seats, the biggest screens, and concession snacks that Hardison likes, and they buy tickets for the midnight premiere of the superhero movie that Hardison hasn’t shut up about for the past month. Parker even hacks into the theater’s computers in a last-minute fit of nerves and cross-references the credit cards with drivers’ licenses to make sure the people sitting in front of them won’t be too tall.

Parker witnesses a kidnapping in the parking lot while the boys are getting popcorn. They don’t even stay long enough to catch the commercials.

~

+ 1. “Hey Eliot,” Hardison says during movie night, a little over a week later. “Remember the Ice Man Job?”

Eliot groans. “I try not to.”

Hardison throws a piece of popcorn at his face. “Shut up. Remember how you did your hair for that one? With the little—those little beads on, like, a braid?”

Eliot shoots Hardison a suspicious glance. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Teach me how to do that.”

Eliot shoots Hardison another, more deliberate look, this one pointedly directed at Hardison’s complete lack of braidable locks.

Hardison rolls his eyes as if that’s a silly detail to get hung up on and leans forward to dig around in one of the boxes he has under his coffee table. He emerges with a ziplock bag of plastic beads in no time flat and hands it triumphantly to Eliot. Then he yanks a few cushions out from behind Parker, who’s sitting on his other side, and puts them on the floor in front of him. “Sit here?” he asks Parker, patting the cushion pile.

Parker takes a moment to consider being offended at having her cushions stolen, but curiosity gets the better of her and she just plops down between Hardison’s legs, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as she goes, and waits.

Hardison lifts her hair with sudden gentleness, drawing it over her shoulders and letting it fall down her back in a golden wave. His fingers brush against her neck. Parker shivers. Eliot is distantly aware that he’s gone perfectly still, focused with a hunter’s intensity on Hardison’s dark, graceful fingers carding through Parker’s hair.

Hardison leans back, hands on his knees, and Eliot breathes again. “Well?” Hardison looks over at Eliot, a tiny smirk of challenge on his lips. “Show me how it’s done.”

Eliot is suddenly, brutally aware of how close they are. Hardison’s couch is obscenely comfortable, which is half the reason movie nights are at Hardison’s in the first place, but it is not large. Their thighs are touching. Hardison leans away, to give Eliot access to Parker’s hair, and he’s still so close that Eliot would barely have to reach out a hand to—

Eliot ruthlessly shoves that thought down into the dark where it belongs. He dealt with this, he dealt with this years ago, and accepting Parker’s stupid bet doesn’t mean he’s forgotten the way Hardison and Parker look at each other. It just means he doesn’t mind losing for a good cause.

So he keeps his tone steady and his fingers brisk as he shows Hardison how to braid the clunky plastic beads into Parker’s hair, and if he flushes with heat when their hands brush each other, well, nobody has to know. He’s been trained to withstand eight different schools of torture. It won’t show on his face. His voice never once falters.

Parker has had no such training. Her lips have parted, and her breathing is shallow. She’s staring glassy-eyed at the TV. Hardison can’t see her face, sitting behind her, but Eliot watches her carefully, worried that they need to call this off. Parker’s not used to intimacy, to closeness that means something, and for all the three of them have spent half their movie nights literally on top of each other, this is something else. This has weight.

Eliot puts a hand on her shoulder, pressing down just enough that Parker startles and cants a glance over at him. Eliot raises his eyebrows in question, and Parker glares back: don’t you fucking dare. Eliot backs off. Hardison, frowning in concentration as he threads a wisp of Parker’s hair through a green bead, graciously pretends he didn’t see the exchange.

Hardison gets the hang of the beading fairly quickly, and Eliot shows him a few different techniques. He’s almost managed to convince himself that nothing is actually happening when Hardison says, conversationally, “You two are really bad at this.”

Eliot glowers his confusion. “At movie night? You started this, if you wanted to actually watch Alien then you shouldn’t have—”

Hardison’s smile is soft, but Eliot decides for his own safety to focus on the laughter at its edge. “No, at this.” And then he slides his hand onto Parker’s neck, caresses her cheek, and isn’t the slightest bit surprised when she gasps.

Parker whips around, and there’s hurt on her face but it dies in the glow of Hardison’s gentle, unteasing smile. Hardison pulls her up with the lightest of touches, and she goes, eyes fixed on his like salvation.

They kiss sweet and slow, and Eliot’s heart twists in his chest and he can’t breathe. He needs to leave now before he shatters in half, but if he moves then they will look at him, and he would rather never breathe again than meet their eyes right now.

Hardison breaks off the kiss, gazing at Parker with something just this side of wonder, and then he does look at Eliot. Eliot flinches. He opens his mouth to…say something, make some joke or hasty excuse and scramble out the door, but Hardison raises a hand to Eliot’s face, slides his long fingers to cup Eliot’s neck, and pulls him forward, as gently as he did Parker.

It’s a chaste kiss, no more than a soft press of lips, because Eliot is too stunned to respond and Hardison doesn’t push. It lasts a long time. A whole era of change happens in the span of that kiss, as everything Eliot thought he knew tears out of place and then settles, gingerly, into a new understanding.

Hardison pulls away, his hand still warm on the back of Eliot’s neck. His smile is pure sunshine. Eliot finds himself smiling back, helpless.

Hardison’s grin turns smug. “And that,” he says, looking between Eliot and Parker, “is how you do it. Y’all are disasters, honestly, I can’t believe two master criminals working together couldn’t manage a single real date—”

Eliot heaves a deep sigh and drags Hardison into a headlock, pinning his arms when he flails. Parker surges to her knees and starts tickling him mercilessly.

They don’t finish the movie.

[petri808]

We’ll Take Back Heaven a Nalu Yakuza Au

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

A loud slam of the organization’s front door caused Levy McGarden to pop her head out of her own office. Curious, she walked down the hallway and saw a light on in her boss’s, Lucy Heartfilia. Had the noise been Lucy returning? That was strange because it was too early for the woman to be back so soon. The party should have kept Lucy out of the office until morning. Levy knocked at the cracked door before entering.

“Lu, why are you here? Are you okay?” Levy quickly added when she saw her boss’s forehead leaning on the table. “Did you drink too much?”

“No… I ran into Natsu, and we had a fight,” Lucy answered without lifting her head. “He just makes me so angry sometimes, so I stormed out of there.”

“Aww, Lu.” Levy walked over and put a hand on her friend’s head. “I’m sorry.” Both Lucy and Natsu were childhood friends of hers, so she knew the history between them. It was just like a made for television movie plot and hard to stay neutral in at times because she loved them both. “Do you wanna talk about it? Need a drink?”

Having heard the loud noise, another associate Cana Alberona also came looking for the source and stumbled upon the beginnings of the conversation. “Did I hear the word drink?” She popped her head into the office. “Oh, baby what’s wrong??” She questioned at seeing Lucy upset. Cana quickly joined Levy next to their friend. “Who do I gotta kill?”

“It’s just Natsu,” Lucy mumbled. “So, no killing.”

“Oh… him.” Cana plopped her butt onto Lucy’s desk. “Ya sure? I bet I could get one of my girls to take him out of your misery.”

“He wouldn’t be interested,” Levy piped in.

“Right… he’s still—”

Lucy sat up groaning, cutting them off. “That’s enough. I really don’t wanna think about that shit right now.”

“Fine, fine, then drinks it is. Relax, babe,” Cana playfully pushed on Lucy’s shoulder before plopping off the desk. “Then you’re gonna dish about tonight.” Cana always kept a stock of liquors at her desk. So, she grabbed a bottle of high quality flavored junmai daiginjo sake, glasses and set the girls up for a gossiping session.

It was reasons like this that really spoke to the heart of their organization. Everyone in the top level of this girl’s gang had known each other from childhood or high school. They were close, a found family of sisters who all had one thing in common— a real dislike for Japan’s outdated notions of gendered norms, well that and a desire to make money. But not in a conventional way. None of them wanted to work a boring office job only to what, be subservient to the male status quo? No, thank you. So, it had been Lucy who’d first approached everyone with the idea of creating their own high-end crime organization. It was amusing at first to think about an all-girl gang similar to the Yakuza… Oh, they all knew why Lucy came up with the idea to spite Natsu and the Yakuza’s rules, but it was an appealing idea. Everyone except for Levy’s family had some kind of ties to the Yakuza, so they were in essence raised in the lifestyle without ever being able to be a part of it because of their sex.

Together they brought their strengths into play and under Lucy’s business savvy thanks to her father, within just a short couple of years they were on the road to making a real name for themselves. Levy McGarden was at the heart of the organization as a tech person, and her skills in computer language is the reason they’re able to control a massively successful money laundering operation. Cana Alberona had great people skills, so she handled the escort services. Another, Erza Scarlet was the security expert who oversaw anything to do with the protection of their assets and employees. She also kept contacts with law enforcement. Mira Strauss handled the bookkeeping and financial side, and finally Juvia Lockser managed their soapland operation. Lucy herself held everything together but was the face of the group when dealing with knew contacts and clientele. Six primary women running the organization with underlings or regular staff to manage, they were nicknamed the Yosei girls because of the various fairy-type tattoos they all had somewhere on their bodies. Lucy preferred not to show hers to outsiders, but it was a pair of fanciful fairy-like wings that took up a large portion of her upper back. Natsu used to call her his angel back in the day…

The three girls sat huddled around Lucy’s desk after Levy dragged over a couple extra chairs.

“Seriously?” Cana knocked back a shot of sake and planted it on the table. “So, you didn’t have a chance to hit any marks?”

“Nope.” Lucy sipped from her glass. “Sure, I talked to some people, but I never made it past my first cocktail. He even blocked me from getting some action tonight from the hot bartender.”

Cana cringed. “That’s even worse!”

Levy giggled at her friend, “of course, you’d take offense to that Cana instead of the job.”

“Well,” Cana shrugged nonchalantly, “girls gotta take care of needs too, right? And if he was hot, that’s a real shame.”

The comment sent both Levy and Lucy into a giggle fit. Lucy may have started this out irritated but leave it to her friends to bring her out of her despair.

“Oh,” Lucy sighed and finished her glass, “the guy Loke was a total playboy too. Perfect for a no strings attached night.”

“Loke?” Cana questioned. “Orange hair and glasses?”

“You know him?— of course, you know him,” Lucy chuckled. “Why am I surprised.”

“I’ve seen him at other parties bartending. Flirts with all— the pretty girls. Very easy to get into bed, and not bad while in it. I got his number if you want it.”

“Natsu scared him pretty bad. I think Loke recognized him.”

“Hmm, that’s possible too. But hey, what Natsu doesn’t know…”

“Oh, my Kami, Cana! You are just too much sometimes!”

“Hey, just tryin’ to help out my bestie here,” she winked.

“Nah, I’m not in the mood tonight, Natsu really killed my joy.”

“He really thought that the guys there were gossiping about you?” Levy questioned. “Just because you didn’t have an escort?”

“Yeah, and you know even if he was right, he didn’t need to be a dick about it.”

Levy sighed, “he was probably right. It sucks, but that level of men, they look down on women like us. You provide a service, so to them they’re still using you which makes you beneath them.”

“And how dare a woman show up without a man by her side,” Cana rolled her eyes. “Oh well, less guilt for me when I’m taking their money,” she laughed.

Levy and Lucy laughed too, then Lucy raised a glass. “To taking their money! Cheers!”

“Cheers!” The girls clinked their glasses together and shot down their drinks.

“Speaking of escorts, how are things going Cana?” Lucy asked. They called their employees escorts because that’s the only service they provided. Think of them like high-end modern geisha without the traditional look. Their employed women provided companionship for events or business executives trying to look good and we’re trained well in hospitality, etiquette, and such to keep their dates happy. The women were highly compensated for what they did, so it was very lucrative for everyone. Sex was forbidden on the job and if a client ever tried to pressure an escort or roughed them up, they would be immediately barred from the service. However, if the infraction were bad enough, that’s when Erza would step in and handle things. The group was lucky this rarely took place because the male clientele they had wouldn’t want the shame of embarrassment either.

“Going great. We’re already getting booked up for the holidays and that still 4 months away. I guess they wanna make sure they can get certain girls before it’s too late.”

“Suckers.” Lucy snickered. “We’re using their own social norms against them, and they don’t even realize it.”

Between the three friends, they drank about half the bottle before slowing down. The conversation switched between work related topics, private lives, and back to Natsu until Lucy would switch the topic again. She knew of her buddy’s willful infatuation in her decades old battle with the man, but she just wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Lucy still had a lot to process privately about the issues and though she loved Cana as a sister, Levy was the only one she’d really tell her deepest feelings to and now wasn’t the time to rehash anything. A few hours passed by when a knock at the door came. Another of their group was dropping by before heading out to work.

“Hey Juvia!” The three tipsy girls giggle at the same time.

“Wanna join us?” Cana questioned.

“Juvia would but she needs to check on Faerieland.”

“How is our soapland operation doing? Any problems I need to know about?” Lucy asked Juvia. The Faerieland bathhouse was the lowest level of their operations since flesh services were considered distasteful. But nevertheless, it was a highly profitable and legal one. What set them apart from all the others was the high-end quality of services offered to guests, providing both male and/or female “bathers” that clients could pay extra for to have a sexual experience. However, for that service, the client was required to be vetted by an inhouse doctor prior to a booking to make sure they were free of STD’s. Again, that was just one reason Faerieland was considered so high end and very exclusive. Some might have found it inconvenient, but most of the regulars appreciated the health factor. It’s what kept them coming back. All the employed bathers were screened regularly by an in-house doctor, and contrary to societal belief, were there by their own choice. So, the combination of anonymity, safety, and level of service kept the soapland business running with very little down times in between.

Juvia shook her head. “No problems, just busy due to the heat this time of year. Private bookings are scheduled out into next month.”

“That’s good to hear,” Levy smiled. “It’s nice that things have been running so smoothly.”

“Agreed,” Cana and Lucy chimed in.

“There is one thing Juvia should tell Lucy.” Her voice lowered, hesitant. “Mr. Natsu has an appointment booked for the end of the month. And he… just made it tonight.”

Lucy rolled her eyes and her voice dripped with irritation. “So, who’d he sign up to bang?”

“Nobody. Mr. Natsu only booked the deluxe bath and massage package. No sex.”

“Oh—” Lucy caught her surprise before she could show it, waving her hand nonchalantly as if she didn’t care. “W-well good for him. Not that I care if we’re making money of it.”

“Juvia is so relieved! She was worried you wouldn’t like him using our bath house.”

“It’s rare that he does,” Cana tapped her chin. “Hmmm, I wonder why he made the appointment tonight of all days…”

Levy slapped Cana on the arm, glaring at the woman to behave and Juvia just stood there wide-eyed and confused.

“What?!” Cana laughed. “I thought it was funny.”

“Ha-Ha,” Lucy mocked Cana. “What Natsu does is his own business and it’s not like he was trying to relieve himself tonight, the appointment is what, two and half weeks or so away? I’m not gonna lose sleep over it.”

“Okay… Juvia is confused but needs to go. Someone can fill Juvia in tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Juvia,” Levy apologized for the others. “I’ll fill you in later. But don’t worry! Everything is okay.”

“That’s good. Well then. Goodnight, everyone!” Juvia waved as she left the office.

“Goodnight!” The three waved.

“Cana,” Lucy reignited the debated now that Juvia was gone. “I don’t care if Natsu sleeps with other women, how can I when I have no problem sleeping with other men. We’re not a couple. But what does irritate me is that of all the bathhouses to choose, why mine??”

“It’s probably because of our services…” Levy threw in to diffuse the tension. “We do provide the best.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucy sighed, “it just— it feels like he’s doing it on purpose.”

“You know I’m just teasing you, Lucy.” Cana retorted. “But I think you’re also reading too much into it. He’s a guy and history has shown a clueless one when it comes to women, so I doubt he’s masterminded going to the bathhouse as a way to irritate you.”

Lucy exhaled. “You guys are probably right. I guess I’m just still too wound up because of the party.”

“Maybe what you need to do is to unwind Lu,” Levy suggested.

Lucy sat back for a moment mulling over the idea. Yeah, maybe she should. It sure as hell wouldn’t hurt. Maybe let off some steam and stop thinking about Natsu, and a one-night fling could do just that. “You know what…” she turned to Cana with a new resolve. “What’s Loke’s number?”

Cana whipped out her phone. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

The sharing bed prompts I loveee that shit. What about “person A hogs all the covers and person B’s solution is to spoon them” and “does that feel good” with Rami as person B?

All right—I took some liberties with this prompt, and while it isn’t smut, it is fluffy and fun. Perhaps there needs to be a Part II, but for now, here you go : )

Y/N is the press tour director for Bohemian Rhapsody, so essentially, she is in charge of the boys. This is totally AU-ish, and this is also the first time I’ve written Joe and Gwil. Forgive me if it’s bad. 

* * * * *

Having been on the road with the boys for several weeks, I knew it was never anything that was going to make my life easier when they started being exhaustingly charming to me and only me.

“Cut the shit, boys. What do you want?”

Rami grinned, but I shook my head, “Nope—don’t try that either. What do you want?”

Rami’s smile faltered, and he sighed. He licked his lips, tucking his bottom one between his teeth, and I turned away, refusing to let any of his ticks affect me now.

Everyone on the tour could see the way we looked at each other, but I had a job to do. Rami was an actor, and this press tour was only going to be one small part of his life. But for me, this press tour’s success could send my name right to the top of the PR list, ensuring I’d never have to work three jobs to make ends meet again.

And no one, no one knew that.

This was Hollywood; people weren’t interested in the rags to riches story anymore. All that mattered was what your life looked like, so I made sure to consistently project a strong, confident woman with nothing to lose.

Except that right now, it sounded like I was going to be forced to make a very difficult decision: to keep up appearances by giving over to the boys’ demands, or to buckle, revealing how much the success of this tour really meant for me.

Joe stepped forward and popped onto the edge of the desk in my hotel room, crossing his legs and changing his voice to a high, nasally pitch.

“Well, ya see Mista Sheffield,” Joe said in his best Fran Fine impression, “as the nanny, it’s clear ya been makin’ these kids work way too hard. If they don’t get a break, it could be very bad for their health—and yours,” he added with a wink.

Sighing, I pushed back from my desk and looked at Joe, who re-crossed his legs and batted his eyes.

“I’ll consider your offer if you put on one of Nanny Fine’s skirts, Mazzello.”

“Uh, did you not see the pictures of us in drag? Only Rami’s got the stems to pull that look off.”

I flicked my eyes over to Rami and he smiled, although it was a shyer smile than usual. However, I didn’t look back at Joe. Rami was almost always the leader of their schemes, so I asked, for the third time, what exactly they wanted.

“Since our stop in the next city has been delayed, we thought we could have some time to . . . explore Italy.”

“And?”

“We want to rent a car—”

You started shaking your head no, but Rami pressed on.

“We want to rent a car and drive. We have plenty of time to get there—”

“And if something goes wrong? My god Rami—we are talking about an extra 48 hours, not a week!”

“Nothing will go wrong. You have my word.”

“Those are the most famous last words in every movie, television show, and novel produced in the last century!” I said, my voice rising as I stood up from the desk chair.

“We’ve already mapped it out and it only takes twelve hours longer than the train you have scheduled,” Rami spoke in a rush, moving to stand in front of me and to grasp my upper arms. “We have our cell phones. And . . .”

“And?” I prompted.

“And you’ll be with us,” Rami finished, his voice low and soothing as his eyes burned into mine.

I had to close my eyes to escape his spell because what he was saying was actually not as unreasonable of a request as I had been sure it was going to be. Backing away from Rami’s grip, I sat down on my bed with a plop.

“What does Gwil say?”

“It was his idea.”

“Oy vey,” I said, flopping back onto the bed.

The bed bounced as Joe landed beside me, perfectly propped up on his elbow.

“Soooo maaaa, what do ya say?”

“If—oof,” I said bouncing as Rami landed on my other side.

“If Joseph Mazzello agrees to never impersonate The Nanny again, we can take the car.”

The boys laugh and plant twin kisses on my cheeks and I give them both a hard shove away from me.

“But if anything, ANYTHING happens, I am holding you, Rami Malek, personally responsible,” I said as I stood up and glowered down at him.

“Ooo, Ram, man. That means she’s docking your pay.”

“Don’t care, Joey!” Rami cried as he exaggeratedly sniffed the air. “Can you smell that?”

“What . . . should I be smelling . . .”

“It’s the smell of FREEDOM!” Rami roared as he thumped Joe on the chest, hard enough to make him groan, then start giggling.

A small wrestling match ensued before I yelled at them to get out before they broke my bed.

“Go tell Gwil the good news,” I begged, making them freeze as Rami’s head poked out from under Joe’s stomach after Joe had pinned him with his entire torso.

They scrambled off the bed, each of them fixing their hair as they hurried out of the room to tell Gwilym the good news.

I sat down on my disheveled bedding and bowed my head, praying to whatever god that would listen for this minor detour to happen without a hitch.

The boys, as high-energy as they could be, had been giving their all at every event and had been working ungodly hours. If I could do this for them, they deserved to enjoy it.

* * * * *

God.

The master of the universe.

The almighty creator.

The powers that be.

The flying spaghetti monster.

It didn’t matter what the higher power I prayed to went by, whoever or whatever it was, hated me.

No.

It loathed me, and I became convinced that it got off on circumventing any possible happiness I could have in my life.

I fought back tears as I followed the boys through the sopping cow field, at least I assumed that’s what it was because it was nearly 2 in the morning and the only lights we had were our dying cellphones (which had no service, of course) and one tiny flashlight that had been jammed between the seat in the back of our too-small rental car.

It certainly smells like a cow field, I thought as my foot landed in something that felt suspiciously more squishy than sopping grass.

We were all damned lucky that we hadn’t had anything other than our pride hurt when a whopping pile of mud from the endless rain slid across the road pushing our car over an embankment and into a field. The car had refused to start, and we waited for over two hours for another vehicle to pass.

It was getting cold, so I finally said, “We can’t wait here all night.”

The boys all looked out the window and into the pouring rain.

“Look at the sign,” Gwil said pointing at something that was on the other side of the immense field. “Looks like a vacancy banner.”

“Like the boss said, we can’t wait here all night. It’s not like a cellphone tower is going to sprout up from all the rain,” Joe said.

“Pop the trunk,” I said, moving to open the door and step out into the rain.

Rami grabbed my arm and spoke in a voice that was heartbreakingly earnest.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I know,” I said, shaking him off and opening the door.

Luckily, we had all packed light and our bags were easy to carry. Rami tried to take mine and I refused; the last thing I wanted to feel at this moment was like a damsel in distress.

The walk took well over an hour, but it was exactly as Gwil said: a vacancy sign, except that none of us could have predicted that it was a place that made the Bates Motel look like a St. Regis.

We paused despite the pouring rain and looked at each other.

Joe nudged Rami, who faltered, but then took the lead and opened the ratchety front door, a chunk of sopping old paint glopping down on his shoe as he stepped through the doorframe.

We all shuffled in behind him, and it was clear the lobby was not meant for gatherings of people. Gwil and I stood elbow to elbow, a dusty shelf of outdated brochures brushing against my arm.

Rami angled himself forward and rang the rusty bell.

It made a pitiful ding that matched its home.

Rami’s hair was plastered to his head and falling into his eyes. While we waited, he slicked it back and I noticed it was almost long enough to tuck behind his ears when it was wet.

Meanwhile, Joe hadn’t missed the way I watched Rami, even in this dire circumstance. He was one of the many who knew how we felt about each other and he also knew that had been a strong part of the reason for this trip. Rami had confessed to him that he believed if he could get me to forget about the bustle of the tour, even for a day or two, he’d have a shot at figuring out if I was interested in him.

Joe’s insistence that I was just wasn’t enough. Rami wanted to be sure before he made a move, especially if it could mean turning the great dynamic we had established between all of us into something forced and uncomfortable.

“Hit it again,” Gwil said, his normally patient self becoming agitated. He hated to be dirty, and I knew he was thinking about a hot shower.

Hell, I knew we were all thinking about a hot shower.

Rami reached for the bell again, but before he could press it, a very old man shuffled out to the desk, his hoary head not more than a foot taller than the desk itself. He was wrapped up tight in a robe and there were slippers on his feet.

He began speaking in Italian and the dialect was so strong that we all looked at each other in utter confusion.

“English?” Rami asked in a desperate plea.

The old man cocked his head, little wisps of white hair billowing with his movement.

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Gwil muttered, his voice tired.

“Rami—”

He turned around and looked at me.

“The key hooks on the wall.”

Rami nodded, his mouth puckering as he thought.

“We need rooms for the night,” Rami said, pointing to the keys on the wall. “Uh, camera, per favore.”

The man nodded, “Si, si,” and took two keys off the wall.

He began speaking once more, but Rami pointed to the last key hanging on the wall, trying to get another room in case one of the rooms was too small for all three of the boys to share.

“No, no,” the man said waving the two keys from the wall in front of Rami’s face and speaking some more.

It was clear we were getting the last two rooms the man had.

“La moneta!” he barked when Rami held his hand out for the keys, and we all reached into our bags for whatever we had in Italian currency.

The old man gave us a total and Joe counted it out. After the man recounted the money, he handed the keys to Rami and pointed toward the darkest section of the motel.

Again, we all cast a glance at each other, but once we were back outside in the pouring rain, Rami took the lead and walked off toward the dark rooms.

He tried one key, then the other and reached blindly along the wall for a light switch after the door had creaked open. A single lamp flicked on, and we were greeted by the smallest room I had ever seen. There was an ancient television propped up on a stand, one chair, and one bed that looked to be no bigger than an extra-large twin.

Rami glanced at me, then hurried to the next door, shaking the key furiously in the lock to get the door to open.

It was the same room, right down to the extra-large twin bed.

Rami looked at Joe and Gwil and said, “I don’t suppose the three of us could—”

“Oh for pete’s sake, Rami. Come on,” you said tugging his jacket’s sleeve and hauling him back into the other room.

Joe and Gwil exchanged a look, and despite their exhaustion, smiles crept across their faces.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Rami turned around and locked the chain.

With a sigh, he started to apologize again, but I cut him off.

“Rami—no one could have predicted this would happen. I’m sure we will laugh about this . . . if we don’t get axe murdered in the night.”

“Did you ever see that episode of the Twilight Zone where—”

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare plant some freaky image in my mind before we have to try to fall asleep.”

Rami gave me a small smile before he finally dropped his soaked bag on to the floor.

“We may have to wring out all our clothes,” he said frowning with disgust at his wet luggage.

“First, I’m taking the hottest shower in history,” I said, marching into the bathroom, then proceeding to scream as I collided face to chest with a mostly naked Gwilym.

Rami and Joe both burst in from their doors, and then they started laughing.

“Your faces,” Joe squeaked out.

Gwil and I looked at each other and broke, laughing until we cried at the absurdity of the entire situation.

Ever the gentleman, Gwil offered the bath, and yes, it was an old clawfoot bathtub, not a shower, first.

“No—you go for it,” I said patting his shoulder and following a still chuckling Rami out of the door who was swiping at the tears that had leaked down his cheeks during his laughing fit.

I collapsed onto the uncomfortable, putrid yellow chair, a puff of laughter escaping in intermittent bursts as I remembered the feeling of my nose colliding with Gwil’s chest.

“Damnit,” I growled, leaning back in the chair.

“What is it?” Rami asked from the seat he had taken across from me on the edge of the bed.

“My shoe strings are so wet I can’t untie them and my shoes are too tight to kick off.”

“Let me try,” he said, moving to kneel in front of my shoe. “Wow—okay. That’s definitely cowshit.”

Laughter burbled up from my throat again as I stared at Rami’s fingers working my shit-covered laces, and he looked up at me, his nose crinkled, his hair a mess, and I laughed harder until he joined in.

“When you win an Oscar for Freddie, I’m going to remember this moment,” I said, smiling down at him as he freed my right foot.

“Shut up,” Rami said with a smile. “Never gonna happen.”

“Why are you so afraid to let yourself want it?”

“For the same reason you’re so afraid this tour will be a disaster,” Rami finished with a grunt as he freed my left foot and sat back on his butt, getting ready to work his own tennis shoes off.

“What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rami wiped his fingers on the shins of his soaked pants and looked up.

“You’re not the only one who came from almost nothing, Y/N. We recognize our own kind in this world.”

“But—”

“My parents worked really hard to make sure we had opportunities, but that was about all we had.”

“I didn’t know.”

Rami and I looked at each other, and for the first time I realized what we had in common: an insatiable hunger, a need to prove ourselves.

I know it seems like it only happens in the movies, but as soon as I made that realization, it was like a jolt of electricity went through my body. I had never wanted to kiss someone more than I did in that moment, and just as I was about to drop to the floor and close the distance, Gwil knocked from inside the bathroom.

“Your turn, Y/N!” he called.

I shook my head and stood up, hurrying into the bathroom.

By the time we had all rotated through, Joe going last and informing us with a loud, “Yikes!” that the hot water was all gone, I was exhausted and settled under the minimal covers on the bed.

Rami had been sitting in the yellow chair for the past half an hour, trying to get his cellphone to work.

“We’ll use the phone at the front desk in the morning,” I mumbled sleepily. “Let’s get some rest before the rooster crows. Cuz I guarantee there’s one roaming around out there unless the axe murderer was in the mood for chicken.”

Rami’s laughter was soft as he rose up from the chair and walked over to the light switch.

“Should we leave it on?”

“Try it.”

Rami flicked the switch and the room was plunged into darkness, but after a few moments, it was clear that the light from the vacancy sign was going to shine right through the damn-near sheer curtain covering the window.

“I think we’re okay—you locked the door, right?”

Rami fumbled along the door and double checked.

“Yup.”

I listened as he made his way back to the bed and he shuffled some sort of item of clothing off. When his cold feet accidentally connected with mine, I knew it was his socks.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Can’t stand to sleep with socks on.”

“Me either,” I said to the wall I was facing.

Rami moved around in the bed, attempting to get comfortable and to keep an appropriate distance between our bodies, but when I moved, he gasped as all the covers moved with me.

“Sorry,” I groaned.

“I think this bed is clearly meant for one person.”

“Or two people as tiny as that old man.”

Rami chuckled, and then he sighed.

“There’s a solution . . . if you’re okay with it.”

“Lay it on me, Ram.”

Rami said nothing, but he rolled onto his side and pressed his body into my back. He adjusted his arms, eventually resting his left hand in the dip at my waist.

“At least I’m getting warmer now,” I said sleepily.

Rami took that as an invitation and snuggled in deeper, sliding his arm all the way over my waist so he could spoon me.

“I really am sorry for all of this,” Rami whispered into the back of my neck.

“I’m not,” I said, reaching for his hand and pulling it up between my breasts so I could clutch it to my chest.

Rami hummed contentedly, and we both drifted off to sleep.

[orangeoctopi7]

A Tale of Two Secrets

@stanuary  Week 2 is Secrets! Stan's been keeping major secrets from his family for years, but he never stopped to think maybe his family was keeping secrets from him too.

Author’s note:  This is a disjointed rambling mess and it ends up being more about Shermie towards the end, but hey, I need SOMETHING to post for week 2 of Stanuary, so here ya go!

To the people of Gravity Falls, Stan had been playing the part of his brother for almost a year. But now that he’d faked his own death, he was going to have to pull a much tougher con: posing as Ford to his own family. He’d already decided that he was not going to attend his own funeral, no matter how much flack he got from Ma about it. First of all, it would be way too depressing. Second of all, everyone who was most likely to see through his lie would be there. Ma, Shermie, maybe even Dad. No, better to play it off like he was too grief-stricken to show up, which, honestly, wasn’t that far from the truth.

He should have known that he wouldn’t get away with just a tear-stained letter explaining he couldn’t bear to sit through his own twin’s funeral. The same day the letter arrived in Glass Shard Beach, he got a call from Ma. As expected, she tried to convince Stan (Stanford, as far as she was concerned) to come to the funeral. Stan almost broke down and told her everything right then and there, and by the end of their phone conversation, he was sure she’d seen right through his imitation, sure she’d call back any minute demanding to know what happened to Ford, or worse, that she’d show up on his doorstep in the next few days. But instead, an hour later, he got a call he wasn’t expecting.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines.” Stan recited. He’d heard it enough times in his own failures to reach out to Ford over the years that he could copy that answer flawlessly.

“Stanford, it’s… uh, it’s Sherman.” A deep voice answered.

“Shermie!?” Stan exclaimed before he could stop himself. Shermie’d been just a baby the last time Stan had seen him, just starting to walk, and now he sounded like a grown man! He hadn’t left home that long ago, had he?

Luckily, Shermie didn’t seem to notice how his voice changed, as he went right on talking “Ma wanted me to try and convince you to come to the funeral, but--but I get it if you don’t want to come. I know things were kinda… complicated between you two.”

Stan took a deep breath before returning to his Ford impression. “Thank you, Shermie, I appreciate it. You’re right, things were complicated, and that certainly doesn’t make his death any easier. Attending the funeral would be too much for me to handle while I’m still--still processing things.” Stan didn’t have to fake the waver in his voice.

“Then don’t come. We won’t think any less of you for it.”

Stan gave his best impression of Ford’s dry chuckle. “I doubt Mom would agree with that sentiment.”

“Yeah, well, give her some slack. She’s not taking it well. Probably doing even worse than you.”

Stan wanted to kick himself for doing this to his own mother. But, he reasoned, she’d probably take it even worse if she knew what really happened. That Ford had disappeared into some sci-fi portal thing and Stan, the leach and the failure, had taken his place.

“How are you doing, by the way?” Shermie asked, interrupting Stan’s thoughts.

“Uuuuh…” Stan hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. Idiot, of course people would ask him that! What could he say that would sound convincing? What would Ford do if he was grieving? “I’m mostly just trying to concentrate on my work… sooo… so I don’t have to think about it.”

“Oh. Well, uh, I hope that works out for you…” Shermie said awkwardly. “There was something else Ma wanted me to tell you…”

Please don’t say you’re comin’ out to check on me, please don’t say you’re comin’ out to check on me!

“But… uh… You--you’ve already got so much on your plate right now. Don’t even worry about it.”

“What?” Stan asked, curious.

“It’s--it’s nothing really, I think she just wanted me to tell you because she thought it’d convince you to come.”

“Ok, I won’t ask then.” Stan said, and then instantly regretted it. Stanford “Curiosity killed the Cat but Satisfaction brought it back” Pines would never respond to Shermie’s cryptic statements with “Ok, I won’t ask then.” He knew he’d just blown his cover.

Except he hadn’t.

“OK well nice talking to you, Stanford, take care!” Shermie said quickly.

“Y-yeah, you too.” The word “too” wasn’t even halfway formed when Shermie hung up.

Well, that was weird. But if it meant Stan could pull off this con a little longer, just long enough to get that portal working and bring Ford back, then he wasn’t going to question it.

***

The next time Stan heard from Shermie was several years later, with news that almost gave him a heart attack.

“We’re moving to California.”

Crap, are they gonna want someplace to stay while they move in? Are they gonna want me to help them move in? They’re definitely gonna want to come visit, probably every major holiday. Mom’s gonna figure it out, for sure!

“That’s--that’s great news. Did Dad, uh… did Dad sell the pawn shop?”

“Oh, Mom and Dad aren’t moving!” Shermie clarified. “Just me… and Trudy and Micha.” he added two unfamiliar names at the end so quickly and quietly, Stan almost didn’t hear him.

“Who?”

Stan heard Shermie take a deep breath, like he was preparing to dive into the cold ocean. “Trudy and Micha. My wife and my son.”

“Wait, what!?” Stan exclaimed, completely forgetting his Ford voice. “Shermie, since when are you married?” He wanted to complain that he wasn’t invited to the wedding, but… he hadn’t invited anyone to his wedding to Marylyn, so he really wasn’t one to talk. Wait… no, that was what Stan would think. Ford would definitely complain about not being invited to the wedding. “Why didn’t I ever get a wedding invitation?”

“Nobody got a wedding invitation. We eloped.” Shermie explained. “It… it was right before we found out about Stanley, so… so it didn’t seem like the right time to tell you.”

That weird phone call with Shermie all those years ago suddenly made a lot more sense. 

“And, what, it just slipped your mind for the next few years that you hadn’t informed your own brother? And you just conveniently forgot to tell me when you two were expecting? And you were just too busy to let me know when your son was born!?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” Shermie apologize, and to his credit, he did sound sincerely remorseful. “It’s just… it got to the point where it had been so long that I didn’t know how to tell you. So I just kept putting it off, and the longer I waited, the harder it was to tell you, and it just became a vicious cycle. And it’s not like you ever come out to visit, so I thought I could get away with it.”

Stan felt a stab of guilt at that last comment. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. If he showed himself in Glass Shard Beach, his charade would be finished. How could he ever explain himself to his mother, much less his father?

“It’s fine, really. I’ve been very busy with, uh… with my research, and I probably couldn’t have made it anyway.”

“Oh, phew.” Shermied sighed with relief. “See Trudy, he said it’s fine.” Stan heard faintly, as though he had turned away from the receiver. Then there was an “Oof” that Stan imagined was the sound of Shermie getting elbowed in the ribs. 

“But, uh, to make up for lost time, Trudy was thinking --oof-- Trudy and I were thinking maybe we could come up and visit you on our way out to Burbank?”

“No, I’m too busy.” Stan said automatically.

“Oh... yeah, that’s fair.” 

Stan’s heart sank. It wasn’t like he was holding a grudge against Shermie for never mentioning the marriage or the kid. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to meet his little brother’s family. He just had a huge secret to keep, and his relatives were the people who were most likely to figure it out. But Shermie… Shermie had still been a toddler when Stan left home, and by all accounts, Ford hadn’t come back to visit much, if at all, after he graduated. Maybe he could pull this off.

“But, uh, hey, maybe I could come visit once you’ve all settled in. That’ll give me time to make room in my, uh, busy, busy schedule.”

“Oh, uh, are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure.” Stan said firmly. The last thing he wanted was for Shermie to feel cut off from his family like Stan had.

“Greaaaaaaat. Just. Great. When, uh, when’re you coming?”

“Uh…” Stan looked at his calendar. Tourist season was in full swing now, and he didn’t want to miss that, but maybe towards the end of the summer. “Is your kid in school yet?”

“... Y-nnnno. Nope. Well I mean-- yes, technically. Uh, Kindergarten? He’s in Kindergarten.”

“Alright, then how about the week before school starts?”

“Y-yeah! We will be ready for you. The week before school starts.”

“Great, and, uh, I’ll be ready too. To, uh, see you. For the first time in years.”

***

Stan didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved. After going through the trouble of coming up with an elaborate backstory of why he, Stanford Pines, had decided to undergo surgery to remove his extra fingers. After going so far as to apply what Stan thought was pretty convincing effects make-up to look like scars along the sides of his hands. After all that, Shermie hadn’t even said anything. Hadn’t even glanced at his hands, as far as Stan could tell. 

Maybe he had noticed, and was just being polite. Maybe he was waiting until his kid, Micha, had gone to bed. Maybe he was just really, really not paying attention. 

Did Shermie even remember Ford had six fingers? It seemed unlikely that he would have forgotten. Sure, Ford hadn’t gone home to visit often, but a physical abnormality like that tended to stick in the memory. Maybe… maybe Shermie was misremembering which twin had the weird hands? Well, whatever the case, Stan certainly wasn’t going to draw attention to it.

“Uncle Stan, catch me!” Micha demanded as he sprung off his mini-trampoline, abruptly tearing Stan from his thoughts. The con man barely had time to raise his arms before the boy crashed into them, nearly knocking them both over. Stan was pretty sure he felt a joint pop.

“Huf! Geez, careful, kiddo!” He set the boy down as gently as he could with his arm feeling out-of-socket. “He’s pretty big for a kindergartener, isn’t he?” Stan asked.

Shermie laughed nervously. “Is-isn’t he though?”

“Mhmm. He’s our big boy!” Trudy scooped her son up in a big hug.

Stan realized with a pang of guilt he couldn’t remember if Shermie had told him exactly when the boy was born. “How old are you, Micha?”

The boy glanced at his father. “Five!?” His answer sounded more like a disbelieving question.

Stan looked over at Shermie, who had suddenly hidden one hand behind his back.The young father simply shrugged and smiled. 

“Huh.” Stan didn’t know much about kids. They were bigger than he expected. He swore he’d felt smaller at that age.

"I thought you didn't like people to call you Stan." Shermie suddenly changed the topic.

"W-what?" Stan asked, a deer in the headlights.

"Just now, Micha called you Stan, and you didn't correct him."

"Well… I mean… he's just a kid."

"That didn't stop you when I was even y-- when I was his age."

Crap. "Yes, well… there's no longer a need to distinguish between two versions of the same name any more, is there?"

"I guess I you have a point." Shermie hummed.

***

The rest of the trip was thankfully uneventful. Shermie still didn't ask about or comment on "Stanford's" hands, but this was honestly a relief. Stan was just miffed that he'd wasted all that fancy-pantsy make-up he'd stolen.

Meeting Shermie's family was like a breath of fresh air to Stan, after decades of being isolated from his family members. Trudy was quiet and unassuming, but also sweet and thoughtful. Stan could see why Shermie had married her. Micha was energetic as any small child, and had to be bigger than Stan had been at that age. He had the potential to grow up to be a great heavyweight boxer.

Now, Stan was facing a new dilemma. On the one hand, he didn't want to visit Shermie’s family too often, for fear of them figuring out he wasn’t who he said he was. On the other hand, he didn’t want to see them so infrequently that his visits seemed like a special event. If he did that, there’d be all the more chance that Shermie would call Ma about it, and they’d get to talking, and Ma would definitely figure it out. So, how to strike the right balance?

Once a year wasn’t enough. That made it seem like a holiday. Say, holidays! That could work! There were enough of those scattered throughout the year that Stan could drop by every so often without giving them enough time to really stop and start connecting all the dots. He’d just have to avoid the major family holidays, Passover, Thanksgiving and Hanukkah, because if he visited for those, Ma would absolutely ask Shermie all about it. And besides, he did decent business during the Christmas season and spring break. Speaking of which, Independence Day and Halloween were out too. Those were the Mystery Shack’s busiest days of the year. That left the likes of Labor Day and Presidents’ Day and all those other little 3-day weekend government holidays. Perfect!

***

With every year that passed, Stan felt a fresh new wave of guilt that he still hadn’t managed to reactivate the portal and bring Ford home. Every time he visited Shermie, every time he saw how fast Micha was growing, it was another reminder of what Ford was missing out on. The years just flew by. Stan swore the time between Micha starting Kindergarten and finishing 3rd grade felt like less than a year.

Before Stan knew it, he’d bluffed his way through both his parents’ funerals, he’d been running the Mystery Shack for almost two decades, and his rambunctious, chubby nephew had grown into a strapping young man.

Stan almost had a breakdown when he got the wedding invitation from Micha and his bride-to-be, a beautiful, button-nosed woman named Debborah. Time was slipping away too quickly. He’d already wasted so much of Ford’s life, and yet he was no closer to bringing his brother home now than he had been twelve years ago when he’d finished rebuilding the stupid machine from all the ruined scrap he’d been left with. 

“Gettin’ mad at yourself isn’t gonna do anyone any good.” He scolded his reflection, and then picked up the phone. He had a nephew to congratulate.

***

It wasn’t quite two years later when Stan arrived at the maternity ward of a hospital in Oakland, California. He’d closed down the gift shop for the first time since that flock of Hawktopi descended on the Shack all those years ago. He’d briefly considered leaving tatoo guy there to watch over things, but honestly between him and that pasty, gangly teenager he’d recently hired on as a handy-man, he was pretty sure there wouldn’t be a Mystery Shack to return to if he did. He’d driven for seven hours straight to get here as soon as possible. He’d left the moment he got the phone call letting him know Debbs was going into labor. He’d been eagerly awaiting this moment from the time the ultrasound showed two tiny figures in the womb.

Another set of twins. Maybe there was something to the old wives’ tale of them skipping a generation after all.

He burst into the waiting room of the maternity ward, and everyone turned to stare at him. Stan vaguely recognized a short, skinny man standing next to the restrooms. Pretty sure he’d seen the guy at Micha and Debbs’ wedding. He was Debbs’ dad, if Stan remembered correctly.

“Are they here yet?” Stan asked him.

The skinny man nodded. Apparently he remembered Stan from the wedding too. “Yes, but the doctors have them at the moment. There was a bit of a complication with the boy.”

Stan paled. “I-is he alright?”

“Well, the umbilical cord got wrapped around his neck before he made it out the birth canal. He wasn’t breathing at first, but they cut the thing away and resuscitated him. Now they’re checking to make sure his brain didn’t go without oxygen long enough to do any lasting damage.” Stan’s worry must have shown on his face, because the skinny man continued. “But don’t worry! The doctor said this happens sometimes. He said it happened when his own daughter was born, and she’s grown up without a single hint that it ever happened.”

That, at least, gave Stan a bit of relief. “Where are Micha and Debbs?”

“Down that hall, third door on the left. It’s got a whiteboard with ‘Pines’ written on it.”

“Thanks!” Stan called over his shoulder, already moving down the hall.

He didn’t even bother to knock when he reached the door, just barged right in. The room was already a bit crowded, with Micha, Trudy, Debbs’ mother, a nurse, and Debbs herself. Stan had never seen someone look so tired and so peaceful at the same time. And in her arms was the loudest occupant in the room, an absolutely tiny baby with a pink bow stuck to her head, screaming louder than Stan thought possible with such small lungs. 

“Uncle Stan?” Micha asked, barely audible above his daughter’s cries, “My dad isn’t even here yet! How’d you get here so fast from Oregon!?”

“I can’t answer that question on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”

“Hey, coming through!” A voice whispered loudly behind Stan. He turned to see another nurse, with the doctor in tow, and a clear hospital bassinet between them. Inside was an itty-bitty baby boy. Stan quickly got out of the doorway to let them through. 

“I’m happy to announce that he’ll be perfectly fine.” the Doctor said as he gently handed the second baby to Debbs. Miraculously, the girl in her arms stopped crying the second her brother was next to her.

“Oooh, did you just miss your brother?” Debbs cooed.

Stan couldn’t help it. He started crying.

By the time Stan got his emotions back under control, Micha had already had a chance to hold the babies, along with Debb’s mother and Trudy. 

“Would you like to hold them, Stanford?” Trudy asked.

“M-me?” Stan asked in surprise. “But… what about Grandpa, out there?” He motioned back towards the waiting room, where he’d met Debb’s dad.

“Tyson’s got a cold. He can’t even be in the same room as the babies for the time being.” Tyson’s wife explained.

“I got a text from my dad a few hours ago. He’s driving up from Burbank, I’m sure he’s just stuck in traffic.” Micha explained. 

And so Stan gently took the tiny twins, carefully cradling both their heads in either arm. They were squirmy, squishy little babies, their new-born skin as red as a sunburn. The girl grabbed one of his fingers with surprising strength, and the boy snuggled into his suit. Oh boy, here come the waterworks again…

“I’m here!” A voice called down the hall. Shermie burst in the door, breathless. “Is everything ok? Where are they?”

“Uncle Stan is holding them.” Micha gestured to his uncle.

Shermie stepped up to his brother and reached out to take the babies. Stan leaned back.

“I just barely got them! Wait your turn!”

“Come on, Stanford, they’re my grandkids!” 

“It’s your own fault for bein’ late!”

“That’s not my fault, I was stuck in traffic!”

Stan ended up leading Shermie on a chase around the small room before the nurse put her foot down and insisted they both stop or she would call security.

“What are you going to name them?” Trudy asked after things had calmed down later that day.

“We were thinking of themed twin names…” Debbs said. Stan groaned loudly. “Oh, nothing too obvious. Mabel and Mason. What do you all think?”

Everyone hummed in agreement.

“Good, cuz even if you didn’t, we’re set on those.” Micha grinned.

Within a few days, Mabel and Mason’s red skin cleared up, except for a few interestingly shaped blotches on Mason’s head that seemed to get more defined every day. That’s when he got the nickname Dipper.

***

Years passed. Dipper and Mabel came to visit. Stan finally activated the Portal. Ford came home. The world ended. And now, finally, Stan had some explaining to do. At least things would be easier with Ford by his side.

Dipper had suggested they get it all over with in one go, like ripping off a band-aide. He’d set up a conference call with his Grunkles, his parents, and his grandparents.

Honestly, it went over way better than Stan had been expecting. The story sounded crazy, but Ford being there was proof enough that it was true. Everyone just looked at them in shock as they explained the portal, Ford’s disappearance, Stan faking his death, Dipper finding the third Journal, Stan getting the second Journal from Gideon, reactivating the portal, Ford’s return, and their continued fighting until a common threat made them put aside their differences to help the kids. Sure, they glossed over the more dangerous stuff, like Bill and the end of the world, but Stan was still worried Micha and Debbs would freak out because of what he’d done and never let him near the kids again. Luckily, they seemed to be understanding, especially seeing how much the kids loved him.

The other one Stan was worried about was Shermie. How would he react, knowing the brother he’d finally gotten to know over the last three decades had been lying to him the whole time? He and Trudy hadn’t acted quite as surprised as the others by the revelation of a portal to another world. Shermie just stared at his brothers through the screen the whole time, the gears turning in his brain. Stan was about to ask if he was alright when Ford asked his own question.

“Micha, how old are you?”

“Uh, 34, why?”

“That… shouldn’t be possible.” Ford looked at Shermie pointedly. “When I left this dimension just 30 years ago, your father wasn’t even 16 yet.”

“Wait, what?” Stan asked.

“Sherman, what on earth have you been up to for the last 30 years?” Ford asked curiously.

“For the last 30 years? I’ve just been living a normal life!” Shermie said defensively. “It was just one time back in 1982 that everything went crazy.”

“What!?” Everyone asked, except for Trudy, who looked smug, and Micha, who looked like he’d just uncovered a repressed memory.

“Well now you have to tell them what happened.” Trudy elbowed her husband.

Shermie sighed. “Yes dear. Thank you for not saying ‘I told you so’.

“One day, when I was walking to school back in Glass Shard Beach, I ran into this strange bald man in a jump-suit. He kept babbling on about stopping someone’s parents from meeting, but he couldn’t stop the parents from meeting because he’d already said that in front of law enforcement, so he was going after their grandparents. Obviously, I thought he was just a nut-job, so I ran. I was so busy tryin’ to get away from the whacko that I wasn’t looking where I was goin’ and ran smack into Trudy.”

“I’d just moved in that fall. I was a grade above him.” Trudy chimed in.

“The crash slowed me down enough that baldy showed up again, and when he saw me with Trudy, he freaked out even more, complaining about us meeting somehow ruining his plans. Then he pulled out this tape measurer type thing, pulled it back, and then grabbed a hold of both of us. There was a flash of light, and then BAM, we were in 1922.”

Mabel gasped, “Oh my gosh, Dipper, it was Blendin!”

Dipper slapped a hand to his forehead. “Grandpa Shermie, I’m so sorry, this is sort of our fault. We kind of accidentally cost that guy his job and he swore revenge on us.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you two know Blendin? As in Blendin Blandin?” Shermie asked incredulously.

“I mean, is there any other Blendin?” Mabel replied. “Yeah, I remember him saying something about going back in time and making it so our parents never met, but nothing happened, so we figured he forgot.” She laughed. “Looks like instead of stopping us from being born, he kinda did the opposite. That’s so funny!”

“If by funny, you mean seriously messed up.” Dipper groaned. “Just… starting to think about it makes my head hurt.”

“Wait, so if Micha’s 34…” Stan started to do the math he’d never bothered to even think about before “Shermie, how long were you in the past?”

“Long enough to get married and have a kid.” He answered.

“Just over ten years.” Trudy clarified. “First, Blendin zapped away and left us stranded. Luckily we had all our school supplies with us, so we were able to sell most of it for a little money to get by on at first. I’d been learning to knit and crochet from my mom for years, so I bought some supplies and started selling hats, gloves, and sweaters on the street. I gained enough of a reputation than a local seamstress took me on as an apprentice.”

Mabel gasped. “Is that why you started to teach me to knit when I was little?”

Trudy nodded. “I think it’s never too early to start learning skills you can use if you’re ever lost in time.”

“I, on the other hand, had absolutely no skills that were useful in the 1920’s.” Shermie continued. “I probably would have starved if it wasn’t for Trudy helping me. I tried so many jobs. Running carnie games on the boardwalk, selling light bulbs, I even tried being a photographer for the local newspaper. But nothing ever worked out long-term. Eventually I got a job as a bricklayer, and that, thankfully, turned out to be a steady job, even if it was rough work. It was around that time that Trudy and I decided to get married.”

“We were all the other had, it just made sense.” Trudy added.

“By that point, we’d kinda just resigned ourselves to living out the rest of our lives in the past. And honestly, it wasn’t bad. We were our own people, living our own lives in an exciting, prosperous part of history, no expectations from our parents. And a little knowledge from the future sure helped too. While everyone else was investing in the stock market, we were playing it safe and carefully saving up our money and non-perishable food.”

“It was mostly rice and hard crackers.” Trudy made a face like the memory still left a stale taste in her mouth.

“While the rest of the world was plunged into financial chaos by the Depression, we had a new baby and enough money to last us into the next decade.”

“But, the Depression lasted until the start of World War II.” Dipper recalled from his history lessons. “What did you guys do once your savings ran out?”

“Well, the same stuff most people did at the time. We grew as much of our own food as we could. We re-mended and repaired our clothes and furniture instead of buying new things. We both took whatever odd jobs we could find. When things got really tight, we ate at the nearest food kitchen.”

Stan and Ford both grimaced. They both had their own experiences with hunger and making clothes last way past the point of being threadbare. At least Shermie always had enough to keep a roof over his family’s heads.

“But how did you return back to our time?” Ford asked.

“It was 1933. Things were starting to get really bad. All our savings had dried up. Nobody was buying new clothes, so Trudy couldn’t find work. Nobody was building new houses, so I couldn’t find work. Micha was growing so fast, we could barely keep clothes on him, and he was… an active child, so a lot of things were breaking. Just when I wasn’t quite sure if we were going to keep a roof over our heads, Blendin showed up again, this time with hair. 

“My first instinct was to punch him. Which I did. Then I tried to find that time travel tape he’d used on us before. The whole time he was blubbering on about how he was sorry, and he’d made his peace with the Pines family, and I was about to show him what I thought of his sorry and his peace when he said he wanted to put us back to the way things were before he stranded us.

“So I took him back home with me, and he explained to Trudy and I that he could go back in time and stop himself from ever taking us into the past in the first place. But the thing was… if he did that, we’d lose Micha. We’d lose all the time we’d spent together, the life we’d built together. And, well, we just weren’t willing to do that, even if it meant getting to go back to our own time. 

“I asked him if we could go back to our own time the way we were,” Trudy picked up the story, “At first, he was really opposed to the idea. Said it was against all the rules and regulations of time travel. But then he stopped mid thought and muttered something like ‘Well, what does it matter? Time’s dead, baby!’ and he agreed to it.”

“Time Baby’s dead.” Ford muttered under his breath.

“What’s that?” Shermie asked.

“Oh, nothing, just… theorizing what his words could have meant. Continue.”

“Our troubles weren’t over when we returned to our own time.” Shermie proceeded. “We couldn’t just go home. From our parents’ perspective, we’d just been gone for a day of school. They wouldn’t recognize a couple of adults showing up on their doorsteps. It took a lot of convincing. Handwriting tests, palm readings. Luckily I have a distinctive birthmark of my own.” Shermie pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing a reddish-brown splotch that looked a little bit like a crescent moon if you squinted. “That seemed to finally convince them.”

“My parents believed me when I showed them where I’d hidden my pet turtle under the floorboards.” Trudy added, “But that didn’t stop them from paying for a DNA test a few years later just to make sure.”

“Blendin warned us we couldn’t tell anyone outside our own immediate families, or else we could get in trouble with the Time Police or something. I’m sorry I never told you…” Shermie pointed at Stan, “But I was afraid you… Well, actually I was afraid you” he pointed to Ford, “Would take us away to try and learn the secrets of time travel or something.”

Ford blushed “30 years ago, I very well may have.” He admitted sheepishly. “But now I probably know more about time travel than the two of you do.”

“I can’t believe Ma never said anything to me about it!” Stan complained.

“She always said I should be the one to tell you about it.” Shermie clarified. “And I told her that I did, right before… before your fake funeral, I guess, but I don’t think she believed my lie.”

“I always said he should have told you.” Trudy said smugly.

“Hon, you ok?” Debbs asked her husband, who had been sitting quietly with a blank expression the whole time. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“...Yeah… I think I’m ok… it’s just… I guess I convinced myself the whole thing was a game we used to play that my 4 year old imagination embellished into what seemed to be reality. But now I’m learning it really was reality. It’s… weird. I think I’m gonna need therapy now.”

“Join the club.” Stan grunted.

Ford shook his head. “I just can’t believe the two of you were so busy keeping secrets from each other that you never even stopped to think the other was keeping secrets from you!”

“Hey, I don’t know nothin’ about kids or how fast they grow, ok?” Stan defended himself.

“Yeah, and if you’d actually been around while I was growing up, I probably would have had an easier time seeing through Stan’s act.” Shermie added.

“Guys, guys, there’s no need to argue!” Mabel interrupted them. “Don’t you see? We have a great opportunity here! It’s like our family is getting to know each other again for the very first time!”

Stan’s heart sank. Would the rest of the family even want to get to know each other after all these secrets and lies being brought into the open?

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea, sweetie.” Micha patted her shoulder. “Mom, I know you’ve got to visit your sister this Christmas, but how about we all get together for Thanksgiving?”

Trudy nodded.

“Absolutely!” Shermie agreed. “Oh, that is… as long as you two are free. I imagine you have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Well, Stanley and I are going to make an expedition to the Arctic Circle--”

“Ah, come on, Poindexter, we can delay it a little!” Stan insisted. “I’m gonna need time to train Soos on runnin’ the Shack anyway. And we’re gonna need time to find a boat and gather supplies and all that other stuff to get ready for an expedition.”

“Oh. Right. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“That’s cuz you’re brain’s too busy thinkin’ about nerd stuff, genius.” Stan threw an arm around his brother affectionately before turning back to the video call. “You can count on us being there!”

Shermie gave a relieved smile. Maybe Stan wasn’t the only one who’d been worried how everyone would react to his lies.

“Great. We’ll see you then.”

[blissfulparker]

MatchMaker→Peter Parker

Summary→when you and peter Parker work for some of the most admired people in America and realize they don’t have someone to love, the two of you decide to play a game of match making to hopefully get something for them and something for you.

Warnings→none yet

A/n→this is a very short part to the beginning because I mostly didn’t know how to give a grand introduction, but the second part I have half written and it’s way longer than this. Also this was based off the Netflix movie ‘set it up’ that I adored!

Jobs. Everyone had a job. Everyone had a boss that went with their job. Just because you had a boss, that didn’t mean they had to be nice to you.

You worked in the Stark tower, Tony Stark’s Tower. You finally got the job at a place you walked passed on the street on the way to school as a kid. You worked as Pepper Potts assistant, not exactly where you wished to stand in the business but you worked with one of the higher authority’s so that made your day even if her personality sometimes didn’t.

“I need the file here by Monday and if the file isn’t here by Monday then you can expect to see your stuff in a box, waiting at your desk, ready for you to leave!” She walked in on the phone into her office where you stood waiting for her.

It was now 12:08am, you’ve been here since 7:00am, and currently it took everything not to fall over and go to sleep right now.

“(Y/n), what the hell are you still doing here?” She huffs as she took a seat at her desk and you gave a sleepy smile.

“I can’t leave until you leave, Mrs.Potts.” You tell her and she sighs grabbing a pen before looking at you.

“Pepper, it’s Pepper. I forgot that. But since you’re here, Can you order me that sushi from that one place I had last time?” She groans and you nod knowing exactly what she was talking about. It’s been the same sushi restaurant for a year yet she still never remembers the name.

“Of course, anything else?” You ask and she looks up.

“My weekend schedule?” She asks and you pull out the paper and read it off.

“Saturday you have a baby shower but I canceled because you Don’t like her and so I sent a card with the check. Which means now you have a hair appointment for your roots at 4:30pm and that doesn’t overlap with the dinner at 7:00pm. I sat you next to agent fury instead of agent Maria because you are upset with each other right now. On Sunday you want no one to talk to you so set your phone to do not disturb mode and also you have a spa appointment at 2:00pm.” You gulp and she squints her eyes, she never showed if she was impressed by the way you knew everything but you somewhat hoped she was.

“You should set a spa appointment for yourself.” She remarks and you nod.

“I will definitely look into that.” You press your lips together. “I’ll order that sushi.” You quickly leave the room back to your desk right outside her office and sigh before calling the number you know by heart.

You never thought your college life would be like this, working late nights and going home to do more school work that was possibly already late. You knew Pepper probably better than you knew yourself and you loved working for her. But on nights like these you questioned why you did this.

-

Peter Parker sat at his desk and organized files from A to Z. He on the other hand, didn’t mind having a stressful boss. Not many people could be Mr. Stark’s assistant. Even though he loved his boss, he hated nights like these where he could be home right now asleep but is staring at endless names of people he didn’t care about.

“Kid, What are you still doing here.” Tony threw his hands up in the air and peter nearly fell out of his seat since the statement woke him up.

“I have to do these files, the one where you said put it to A to Z.” He nearly snores out and tony sighed.

“Forgot about those, can you order dinner? I want cheeseburgers, get yourself a cheeseburger too.” Tony handed him a fifty and peter shoved the money into his pocket before getting up to run downstairs to get his boss some food.

“On it Mr.Stark.” He says as he drags himself over to the stairs. He hated elevators because he always remembers the time his friends got stuck in one.

So he makes eyes with the door that says staircase. His face goes even longer than before and he grips the door handle and gets ready to walk down.

Eight coffee cups, one energy drink, endless pencil tapping, was no match for walking down the stairs when Peter Parker was tired.

-

“You’re short ten.” The man who held the box of sushi counted out only $20. You sighed as you tried to look for an extra ten but couldn’t seem to find one.

“Okay! I may be short ten, but I order from you every Friday! Every Friday! Please I will pay you double next time if that means I can take this now.” You cry out and the sound of feet running behind you snap you up.

“I have ten! I have—how much is that?” Peter pulls out his wallet. You swore you’ve seen him before running around with papers in his hand but you weren’t sure, lots of boys had brown curls and a nerdy look.

“Thirty.” The man says still unamused by the now two young adults getting ready to fight for their bosses food.

“Hey! No! This is my food for my boss. I need this food.” You look at the boy with chocolate brown eyes with red around them. “Can I borrow ten?” You plead.

“Nope.” He popped the P. “I have the money, my boss is hungry, therefore I get the shushi.” He takes the box before quickly jogging away. The man hands you back your twenty before you run after the boy.

“Wait!” You shout causing the boy to hault. He turns around seeing you nearly out of breath pointing to the box. “Let’s split it.” You say and he rolls his eyes but feels almost bad for you because you are here too.

He gives a lazy eye roll before holding out the box to let you do your magic.

“Yes!” You smile as you take the box and set it down. “Okay, I get the spicy tuna and you get the California roll which leaves us to have the dragon roll to ourselves.” You say and he folds his arms and has his lips in between his teeth.

“No way! I’m not giving Mr. Stark and plain California roll with nothing else.” He says and you groan.

“Okay fine! You get half of the—wait you work for Tony Stark? Never mind! Half the dragon roll.” You argue and he shakes his head.

“No, the whole thing.” He argues back and you give up and take the spicy tuna roll. You take the plastic container and peter holds the other one.

“Why are you even here so late?” You ask and he looks at you and rasises his brows.

“Could ask you the same. I work for Mr. Stark. And I can’t leave until Mr.Stark leaves, or at least until he passes out in his desk.” He says proudly and you scoff a little out of jealousy but at the same time you didn’t really care.

“I work for Pepper Potts.” You say proudly as well. He gives you a look then shakes his head. The two of you approach the elevator and peter stops.

“I don’t do elevators.” He says and you stop as well.

“Why? it’s not that big of a deal.” You shrug pressing the elevator button.

“No, I just don’t do them—“ he starts and you walk in and pull him in as well.

“Look, just the two of us. It’s fine, if it were more people I understand.” You press the going up.

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head and then looks up. “What do you do?” He asks you and you look somewhat up at the pretty boy.

“I’m just an assistant but a super cool one that no one else is...” you trail off the last part quietly and peter hums down.

“What was that?” He asked and you looked the other way.

“Hmm? Nothing.” You tap the box with your hands and peter looks around too.

“What about you?” You ask and he shrugs.

“I’m—im an assistant yeah.” He nodded trying to find the best way to put that he’s secretly an avenger and at the same time Tony Stark’s assistant.

“Meet anyone cool?” He asks and you nod.

“Yeah, yeah, once met the winter soldier. Thought he was gonna kill me but I guess not. Oh and I take mail from Carol Danvers if that means anything.” You shrugged as if it was no big deal when it was the biggest deal.

“I wash iron mans suit.” He whispered to more himself than to you and you furrowed your brows at him and he smiled a toothy smile.

“This is my Stop.” He nods. “If I’m more than two seconds late I’m dead. Nice meeting you I guess? Also I want my $40!” He points and you throw your hand up.

“It was $30!” You tell him as the door is closing.

“Don’t make it $50!” He points and then opens the box. “Also, Mr.Stark hates dragon rolls so that was for me!” He shouts and then laughs a maniacal laugh.

“I hate you!” You shout before the elevator takes you two more floors up. You stood there worried for how your boss might take only getting her spicy tuna roll when you heard her arguing on the phone.

You sighed as you walked though the hall hoping that this situation wouldn’t get you fired or yelled at. Your steps got slower as you approached the office door, you were tired and exhausted. The air stopped working at around 10:30 so for the past two hours you’ve been hot.

You started thinking about how the only two people left in this building were Tony Stark and your boss Pepper Potts. Everyone else had a family to go home to or a boyfriend/girlfriend. Everyone went home to someone except for them. You knew tony stark lived in the next building over but pepper didn’t, she lived in a penthouse only fifteen minutes from here.

That’s when it hit you. Everyone needed love, everyone needed someone to keep them grounded and neither of them had that. They were both getting older and you knew pepper was upset about not having any marriage or kids at this point. You couldn’t speak for tony but by the way the boy you met downstairs acted it seemed like his boss was no better than yours.

“Holy shit.” You nearly drop the box. “This is perfect!” You quickly pick up the pace to the room where your boss still sat on the phone now yelling at a possible new person.

“Erm, Mrs. Potts—I mean pepper! Can I go home now? I just remembered I have a paper for a class due tomorrow and I need to—” you started and she quickly shooed you off before you could even finish.

You didn’t know if your plan would work. You knew your plan was perfect, but didn’t know if I’d work. If this worked, you and the boys life would be on top of the world.

[acrcsstheuniversee]

Good Enough For Me

Pairing: Paul McCartney circa 1962 x John Lennon circa 1978 (McLennon)

Rating: Mature, readers 18+

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of porn and sex work

Words in this chapter: 1800+

Author’s Note:

Here it is! Refer to my summary and introduction post if you haven’t done so for more disclaimers, visuals, tag list info, and more.

*Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles. This is fiction and written for leisure. Aspects of the story will not be historically accurate and should not be taken extremely seriously.

Chapter 1

Already a month into the semester, Paul found himself struggling to keep up with his studies. He tried his best to focus on typing an essay on the history of guitars that’s due the next day by 10 a.m. but just couldn’t get himself to do it. Not like it was hard or anything; he just hated doing what he’s told, especially if it was something he didn’t care about. He just wanted to do music but having a degree is a necessity now.

He pressed the home button on his cracked phone screen to see that it was already midnight. He was only half way done with the assignment that could’ve taken him only 30 minutes if he wasn’t writing songs in between paragraphs.

It was all too much anyways. American universities have much more homework assignments than back in England. Times like these made him question whether or not going out of the country for school was worth it. There almost seemed like there were more cons than pros in his decision. He lacked resources, he didn’t have any friends or family here except his roommate/best friend George, he was poorer than ever, and must work and attend school part-time. If he stayed in Liverpool and just continued school locally, he probably would’ve earned his degree by now; but now he’s what Americans consider a “super senior” because he’s 21 years old with the amount of classes completed equivalent to a third year student. Despite the struggle, all of it was better than his father dictating his every move. 

He shut his laptop, giving up on the assignment and leaned back into his desk chair, rubbing his tired droopy eyes.

He had two classes and work tomorrow. The thought of them made him roll his eyes. Music history from 10 a.m. to 12 p.m., a business class he couldn’t remember the name of from 1 p.m. to 2 p.m., and work right after at a restaurant nearby as a dishwasher, and occasionally performer if the artist they booked cancelled that night.

He yawned as he got up and slide into his bed. Before shutting his eyes, he turned his head and looked directly across the tiny dorm room to his right to see his childhood best friend and roommate, George Harrison sound asleep.

Paul really needs to take a note out of George’s book and sleep earlier. These late nights are just stressing him out more and more.

***

“Paul….. PAUL! Get up!”

Paul jolted up right when a sudden raised voice rang in his ear. His eyes met George’s signature judgemental look. One of his thick brows cocked and his lips curved awkwardly. He was already ready to go to class.

“Ah, what time is it?”

“9:30. I woke you up 30 minutes before hand because I just know you aren’t going to get up to the 9:45 alarm unless you expect to make it to your first class in 15 minutes,” George teased.

George is a pain in the ass and a know-it-all, but Paul loved him dearly. He comes off mean sometimes but Paul knows it’s just because he’s younger and feels the need to prove himself. Paul was used to it after all this time but sometimes, that boy needs to know when his criticisms cross the line. Despite being a dick sometimes, they’re both grateful to be going to the same college together. It was one in a million chances for George to land the same US college as Paul just a year after Paul’s acceptance.

“Okay, whatever. You have a point, I guess.” Paul groaned and rolled out of bed. 

“I know I do, ha. I’ll see you later.” George messed up his friend’s darkhair more than it already was, making Paul swat his hand away.

When George left, Paul finally got ready and headed off to class with his incomplete essay.

Everyone was already seated and the professor was setting up today’s powerpoint lecture when he finally arrived. Paul sat down in the back where he’s been since the beginning of the semester. It hasn’t been a problem until a girl started to sit near him everyday since last week. When group or partnered work was assigned, she would often ask him to join her. She was kind, but Paul knew she liked him. She couldn’t make it less obvious. They would make small talk here and there---just about classes and hobbies. She was also very good at piano just as Paul was, but not too good on guitar though she claims to be.

He felt her looking at him, making him turn his head to find out he was right. She just smiled and waved. Paul nodded and gave her a small smile in return, trying not to show too much emotion, afraid she would like that too much. She already had the wrong idea but he didn’t want to be mean about it. Paul was not interested in the slightest and, he was gay. Found that out in high school and hasn’t been too shy about it since then. 

When class ended, Paul left immediately to his second class to avoid conversation with anyone. This next one was business related which is something he also could care less about. He was a bit behind in this one too, but this time, he truly didn’t understand the material. He definitely needed a tutor soon.

Not much happened other than him writing mini poems all over his in-class assignment. He didn’t even bother erasing any of it before turning it in at the end of class.

Paul sighed as he made himself to his busboy job right off campus. Before stepping inside, he felt his phone vibrate. It was his dad. Ugh, he thought but answered.

“I’m about to go into work, Dad. What is it?”

“Well, hello to you too. I was just wondering how the first month in the states have been. I haven’t heard from you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Just fine? Have you got a chance to tour places? You should send me photos.”

“No and no. I don’t want you to be sending the pictures to your friends as if you helped me get here. I know you do that.”

Paul heard his father sigh.

“Just text me when you get home and tell George I said hi.”

“Okay, bye.” Paul said before hanging up and walking into his shift.

It seemed harsh but his dad was a selfish prick. He loves to be in control of everything. He was the reason Paul came to the states to study. All he wanted was to ride the wave of success his two sons have been achieving.

In all truthfulness, Paul stopped believing his dad’s bullshit after mom died about 6 years ago. His dad seemed to have lost his way but Paul couldn’t be around all the time if he had a dream to follow. It’s been rough without his mom around but Paul had to do what he was right for him, even if that meant getting away from his dad which is something even she would’ve supported.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how irritating school and his dad were during his shift. The rude coworkers and customers didn’t help his case at all. This wasn’t new though. Paul was used to working constantly in some shape or form. The only problem this time is that he needed more money now that he’s completely independent from his father.

“Hey, busboy!” his boss called out to the dishroom from the back office. Paul rolled his eyes and went to see what he wanted.

“Yes?”

“I have to cut your hours in half. Here is your new schedule. You’re off now, so don’t wash another dish.”

“In half?” Paul took the schedule and saw that his income now would not suffice his monthly tuition payments, let alone some money for necessities. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Why?”

“We can’t afford to pay you. I’m sorry, kid.” he said nonchalantly.

“Will I be able to perform sometimes still?”

“Ehh, sure.” he said as he continued his paperwork, not even looking at Paul.

Paul rolled his eyes again. Could his life get any more annoying? He let out a sigh and clocked out. Now what, he thought making his way home.

When he got home George was playing his computer games with his big headphones to fit on his large ears. The younger man didn’t even notice his friend come in until one side of his headphones was pulled and slapped against his head.

“Hey!” George readjusted himself then paused his game to face Paul with his eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“My hours got slashed.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, hah.”

George frowned.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Are you going to find another job?” 

“Well, I’m going to have to because I will not be asking my dad for help.” Paul said as changed into his pajamas and hopped onto his bed.

George sighed. Paul just stared at his friend for a moment, not knowing what to say. This was bad news for both of them. George didn’t have the same financial issues as Paul did. He only had enough for himself. If George could help, he would---and Paul knew he would.

“I’ll think of something, George. Don’t worry.” Paul got under the covers and listened to his friend shut off his computer and lights before hopping into bed as well.

He stared at the ceiling and sighed, then began to think about all the ways he can make money quickly but none of it would be fast enough to pay his next tuition bill. He rubbed his eyes. It was beginning to stress him out the more he thought of it and he just wanted it to all stop for a second.

Ah fuck it, he thought before whipping out his phone and started to scroll through his favorite porn blog on Tumblr. What better way to forget about things than looking at some sexy pictures of guys?

Paul scrolled until he ran into a post that was by a male sex worker selling nude photos and thought hard to himself. It was a young guy about his age selling his photos for $25 a piece and a private snapchat story for $5 per friend request and $15 extra for screenshot privileges.

Paul bit his lip nervously. It’s been a couple years since he did sex work. All he did was some cam work, sold some nude photos, and made customized videos for people on the internet. He remembered enjoying it but there was always the parts he hated that made the job extremely draining like any other job.

He laid there staring at the screen. He must admit, it was tempting to dive in again but he was afraid what George would think.

“George… Maybe I should go back into sex work…” Paul said suddenly.

George didn’t reply. He just snored in in response. That bastard.

Paul sighed and continued to scroll through sex work blogs, inspired by the possibilities until he slowly drifted to sleep.

-

Tag list:

@nowandthenoldfriend

[kmp78]

The story.

The story behind the hotel piccies, I mean!

Originally I had no clue where they might even be staying, since Oulu has exactly zero 5* hotels so I was kinda skeptical about JL/SL staying there overnight at all - in fact, I still think they might have only flown into town on Saturday just prior to the gig, but let´s get to that a little later! 😜

Anyway, as I stepped off the train I didn´t really have a plan in place which would have maximized my odds of running into the Letos, so I just bounced around town for a few hours - until I saw that Stevie had posted a snapshot of their hotel´s courtyard and BOOM! I recognized it as one of the central business hotel-type establishments. Not a 5* hotel by any means, but good enough for the crew obviously! 😆

So I chose to swing by the hotel as it was right around the corner, and indeed I was able to spot that errand girl Jackie and some other roadie dude goofing on bikes on the courtyard - and pretty soon SA also swerved in. I didn´t approach any of them because... why would I? Meh. Who cares. 😴

Nothing more seemed to be happening at the hotel tho so I split and went on with my day until a few hours later as I was making my way towards the marina again and I realized that the hotel was once again just around the corner, so I decided to do a little “drive-by inspection”, if you will! 🤭

And whaddya know! Who do I spot approaching the hotel? 😳

Only one of the most fervent...well, let´s just call her a “megasuperduper fangirl”. You know, the type who tours the globe after Mars and does 93 M&Gs per tour etc... 🙄

I´m not naming names here but you all know her and she has been discussed here many times. 😉

Anyway, I see she just waltzes into the hotel like no biggie (I know she didn´t stay at that hotel because she had posted from another hotel a day earlier), which got me thinking that... well, if SHE can just go into a hotel she´s not staying in, then why can´t I? 🤷🏼‍♀️

And thus I boldly followed her in - aaaaaaand almost had a stroke when I glanced at the gaggle of triad shirt-wearing females sitting around on sofas in the corner because among them was ANOTHER “megasuperduper fangirl” who is also very famous in our circles. Again, not naming names but you all know her too... 🙊

Well, “FOR REASONS” I was not about to go over there or hang around anywhere near their little sofa circle so I went and took a seat in the lobby´s kiddie play section which not only offered a power outlet for my phone but also a direct view to the elevators and main lobby. 🤟

After maybe 15 minutes or so, the echie group was suddenly summoned by SMG and led to one of the conference rooms to the side of the lobby. 

Yes I am a bit slow, but only then it clicked why that group was here. The M&G was taking place at the hotel! DOH! 🤦🏼‍♀️

For some reason I had assumed it would be at the festival backstage area like mine was in Getafe, but nope! It was at the hotel - which naturally meant that if the fans were lead to the room via the main lobby, the “band” would be too... 😯

Side note: the M&G group was TIIIIIINY! Maybe 15-18 people tops...

After the group left, mars crew activity in the lobby intensified: Matty Vogel was coming in and out with huge trunks and bags and and and some random roadie was telling him how amazing the sunset had been in Oulu the night before - confirming my suspicions that Matty had not spent the night in Oulu...

And if Matty only arrived earlier that day, I´m pretty sure so did the Letos! 🤷🏼‍♀️

SMG also popped out to the lobby and looked around all confused, obviously looking for someone but failing in it so she went back in.

Then Kenny came down to the lobby reception to ask about the wifi not working (uh oh...), and then asked them for an extension cord and scissors (ooookay...) and MAAAAAAYBE HAPPENED TO DROP THE NUMBER OF THE ROOM WHERE A CERTAIN SOMEONE WAS STAYING...😳

Oh Kennyyyyyy... Maybe keep that information a little more hush-hush...? 🤨🙉

Well, I chose not to climb up and go kick down the door for room 62X because I had already secured a nifty spot on the lobby couches so Messiah was quite safe, I assure you! 🤭

Then Kenny headed to the M&G room right past me - and let me tell you, that tiny lady looked exhausted as hell... Yawning wiiiiidely and looking slightly disheveled while constantly checking her phone. 😣

Soon she returned from the M&G room and headed up, and then in turn that new chick Jackie came down and sat down right next to me (I kept my headphones on and fiddled with my phone but I could still hear her audibly sighing (one of those annoyed-stressed sighs... Gee wonder who might be the cause of such deeeeeeeep sighs...🤔)

Only a few moments later the elevator doors pinged and...

They walked SOOOOOOO close to me, SL legit could have tripped on my foot (that´s my leg/knee you can see at the bottom...) 😂

When the door to the M&G room was opened, I could hear the group SINGING (I think it was WoW but can´t be sure) which is EXACTLY what Reni asked us to do in Stockholm as well, because apparently that would make the band arrive faster...

Childish much? 🙄

Also... THAT PESKY CHARLES MANSON THING JUST KEEPS CREEPING BACK INTO MIND... 😶

Anyway, I decided to double my odds of Letospotting and stayed put for the duration of the M&G, and soon I was joined by 2 Finnish drivers waiting for the band/crew to take them to the festival.

They kept chatting about how the band had ordered food to be brought backstage, but wanted it IN THE MIDDLE of their set, which made no sense to them... 🤔

And me either! 🤷🏼‍♀️

Oh except if the food items were also meant for the band´s... special guests waiting in the backstage area...

Hmmm.

Suddenly I heard noises coming from the M&G room´s direction, and I realized the event was over and got ready to get my pap on again...

JL was being EXTRA animated and lecturing Jackie about who knows what...

He def was into it, whatever “it” happened to be. 🤷🏼‍♀️

Interestingly enough, the hotel also housed a girl´s soccer team as well as other randoms, and NO ONE was allowed to use the lifts when the band was on the move!

Can´t risk those germs from normals, obviously! 🤢

MAJORLY IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE!!!!!!

It felt like a really short time that the Letos spent in that room, so I checked time stamps on my pics.

The pics of them walking in were taken at 20:25, and the pics of them walking out at 20:50, which means that THE M&G IN ITS ENTIRETY AKA THE Q&A SESSION AS WELL AS THE PICS TOOK ONLY 25 MINUTES!!!

I shit you not, folks. 😶

TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES.

Granted there were less than 20 people in attendance, but that´s no excuse! In fact, had it lasted the standard 45-50 minutes, the people who had paid $300-700 for that event could have gotten an extremely cool and personal experience with plenty of time for everyone´s questions, general chat and perhaps most importantly: the pic session would not have felt like a rushed cattle drive!

But... there it is. 🤷🏼‍♀️

Twenty-five minutes is all you get for a shit ton of money, guys!

Thank the friggin´ lords above I didn´t buy a M&G because HOLY SHIT.

HOOOOOOOOOLY SHIT!!!!!

Ugh. 😑💸

After the Letos disappeared upstairs, I chose to abandon my post and finally head out to the festival grounds (all the M&G folks left too so I figured if they dared to leave their Messiah, I might as well...)

Cut to an hour later, at 22:31 (only 1 minute after scheduled kick-off time whaaaaaaaaat...?!?! 😱), Monolith started booming from the speakers and show got underway.

Nothing much to add about the concert that wasn´t already mentioned in that review I posted earlier... You can still check the recording from the show on my IG for a few more hours! 😉

It really was exactly as lazy and re-re-re-re-re-re-reheated as we all suspected it to be - even down to the inbetween-song quips. 😴

“Has anyone ever heard of a song called The Kill?” 

Has anyone NOT heard that sentence before?! 😒

Doubtful. 🤷🏼‍♀️

The only memorable differences I could notice were that against all odds, SL's singing wasn't as bad as it has been previously, and that JL has graduated from shirts to hats:

Oh and of course that little outburst at Shayla was a nice touch. 👍

All in all, concert-wise I can't say I would have missed anything had I not gone to this one.

But the side events and whatnot...

Well, they were kinda amusing, not gonna lie! 😂😜

[rememberthattime]

Chapter 47. Fiji

I was born on May 13, 1989. I don’t remember much about the day, but from pictures, it looked like a great time. My parents were celebrating, there were balloons, someone brought a children’s Chicago Cubs baseball set.

Today is my 30th birthday, so I’m reflecting … looking back all the way to the very start.

It’s interesting to imagine my mom & dad’s thoughts in that delivery room 30 years ago. They must have been terrified by the responsibility of raising a toddler (I would be), but also excited for their new son’s future. What will he grow up to be? Where will he live? What will he do? Their dreams for me had to be bigger than their 1980’s hair.

In the least dramatic way I can say this: they couldn’t have predicted where I’d end up 30 years later.

Birthdays are important to celebrate, but especially milestone birthdays. This is mainly Chelsay’s influence speaking, but I agree with her: milestone birthdays are ones you’ll always remember. 15 years from now, we’ll think back and ask: “What did we do for your 30th birthday?” ... I won’t let that be an ordinary memory. Life is busy though, so it’s tough to carve out a day for festivities, let alone plan them. Even a month ago, Chelsay and I didn’t know how we’d be celebrating. Chels had plans in motion, but my work complicated things by scheduling meetings in Atlanta the week before. My trip back to Sydney would require 24 hours of flights, so would we still be up for a big celebration? The answer is Yes. I’m not 70, and I just said milestone birthdays were important, so we’re making this happen. Work would pay for me to get from ATL back to SYD via any route, so Chels and I started looking for convenient connecting destinations. Hong Kong, Tokyo, Patagonia, and Hawaii were all considered, but in the end, we found the perfect blend of celebration, relaxation, adventure, and convenient flights in Fiji. Fiji is a county made up of 330 islands, and each island chain has its own unique characteristics. Viti Levu is the main island and home to Nadi Airport, but most tourists don’t stay here. Near Viti Levu are the Mamanucas, small sandy dots amongst the expansive blue. The Mamanucas are stunning, but they’re typically more resort-y and popular with nearby Aussies & Kiwis. Then there are the Yasawas, where Chelsay and I chose to stay. The Yasawas are further from the mainland, and their remoteness means their less touristy.

This is a double-edged sword though, because less tourists means there’s less tourist infrastructre, so finding a comfortable option would take some research. We eventually decided on Paradise Cove, which perfectly balanced vacation comforts (comfy bed, outdoor shower, and excellent food, which can’t be understated on a remote island) with a sense of wild adventure (fewer guests, great snorkelling, and hiking paths around the large island).

I nailed my meetings in Atlanta, so my birthday weekend was off to a good start even before boarding the plane. For the next 24 hours of flights, I had nothing to worry about - just enjoying a few movies and catching up on sleep. Chelsay and I met up in the Nadi Airport after extremely disproportionate flight times (hers was only 4 hours), and caught a ferry to Paradise Cove. Seaplanes were an option, but they were 5x the price and this wasn’t our honeymoon. The other advantage of the ferry is that it allowed us to see the different Fijian islands up close. Viti Levu and the Mamanucas were very nice, but Chelsay and I knew we’d made the right choice as we arrived in the less crowded Yasawas.

We were in heaven as we stepped onto the sandy beaches of Paradise Cove. A jungle of palm trees lined the beach, at first hiding the resort before eventually revealing a dream island getaway: shaded cabanas, pool-side lounge chairs, and a bar concocting frozen, fruity treats.

The pineapple on top of this pina colada was that Chelsay told the resort it was both of our birthdays, so they upgraded our villa and outfitted it with balloons and welcome drinks. As birthday surprises go, drinks on a beach in Fiji was pretty good.

After drinks on the beach, scuba diving wasn’t really an option, so we decided to snorkel in Paradise Cove’s house reef. I was really surprised by its color. It was just last week that I wrote about the scale of the Great Barrier Reef... but out in the middle of the Pacific, Fiji’s immense soft coral, highlighter vibrancy, and sea life abundance were incredible.

Now, it was inevitable that jet lag would catch up to me. Atlanta is 16 hours behind Fiji, and I was mentally nearing midnight. Chelsay was also dealing with severe time zone change (2 hours), so she was equally down for a nap. We gave ourselves 90 minutes but would wake up well before our 6:30 dinner. Apparently we woke up to the alarm at 5:30... I don’t remember. I guess I turned it off and only woke up once Chelsay checked her phone. 6:20. Woof. I say all this only to give you an idea of the mental state I was in over dinner. It was similar to that infamous Innsbruck dinner, where Chelsay and I giggled through our whole meal in a tired haze. After our mains, I asked Chelsay if it was time to call it a night... Despite having sour straws in the room, she insisted we stay at the restaurant for dessert. “Alright, well if we’re going to be here awhile, I need some extra bug spray.” I stumbled back to the room and, as I was re-applying, I heard singing in the distance. “Must be the ‘Kava Social’ by the fire pit,” I thought. ...These resorts always put on a show. Still in a sleepy haze, I leisurely made my way back to Chelsay. As I got closer though, I realized the singing wasn’t coming from the fire pit… it was coming from the restaurant. I turned the corner and could see they were surrounding Chelsay and I’s table... and Chelsay had her hands clasped over her mouth... and they weren’t making eye contact with her... and they had a cake. OH NO! They’d been singing this whole time for me!!!! Ahhhhh-I rushed back to the table, face bright red, and started clapping along as they sang a Fijian happy birthday song. I don’t know what they sang actually... it could’ve been the alphabet. I just tried to focus on Chelsay and not on the fact that the song had been going for at least three minutes. I thought to myself, “Chelsay must be so embarrassed!” And then I thought, “Oh no everyone thinks I was taking a shit!” The song finally wrapped up, and the waiters were laughing with Chelsay and I. They accusingly pointed out that it was the longest they’ve ever had to sing happy birthday… “Guys, I swear, I was putting on more bug spray!” Luckily a nearby couple caught the awkwardness of camera.

The next morning, Chelsay and I had scheduled back-to-back dives. We’ve been diving quite a bit recently, but it was still fun to float around the bottom of the ocean. Much like the local humans, Fijian fish seemed incredible friendly: the sea life was very comfortable with divers, staring back at Chelsay and I from only a few inches away.

After our dives, Chels and I took a 1.5 hour hike around the island, stopping at a secluded beach for private snorkelling. Along the hike, the resort had set up a few small exercise stations. One station was a tire flip... like what NFL prospects train with. This is probably why all the Polynesian players are so big. Anyway, Chelsay challenged me to flip it and I did so without difficulty. It must not have looked hard, because Chelsay confidently stepped up to try it herself. She bent down, grabbed the tire, lifted from her legs for less than one millisecond, and walked away with nothing but a “Nope.”

At dinner that night, first of all, there were no birthday song surprises. Second, we had phenomenal steak with a spread of beetroot, pea, and garlic purée. It was exceptional, as was every meal we ate at Paradise Cove. This can’t be overstated. I mentioned earlier that food in many Yasawan islands is poor, often limited to rice and fries. These resorts just aren’t prepared to meet all vacation comforts... Paradise Cove was ready though. Over our three days, we enjoyed tasty local kokoda, beef lettuce wraps, coconut crusted chicken, and their many fresh catches of the day.

The next morning, Chelsay and I joined a snorkel excursion through a nearby island channel. In Fiji, these channels serve as a funnel for pods of manta rays, which are probably my favorite non-dog animal. See, ever since our failed hunt for mantas in the Maldives, I’ve had an appreciation for how hard they are to find. Even though we’ve since seen entire pods of mantas, I’ll always jump at the slightest chance to see another. Our boat between the two islands, and the guide jumped in the water. He wore a weight belt so that he could sink down where the mantas swim, which I only mention because I want to remember how easily he descended 10 meters (30 feet), sitting in the dark blue for 2 minutes before resurfacing. This guy is a fish. On the other hand, Chelsay had a less graceful descent. When we scuba dived the day before, we exited the boat by sitting on the ledge, tanks over the water, and just falling backwards. The weight of the tank would naturally fall into the water and 360-degree flip you back to the surface. When snorkelling though, you don’t have the weight of the tank. Chelsay threw herself back and entered the water, but was too buoyant to complete a flip. She’d contoured herself into an arch, with her belly sticking out of the water and fins frantically trying to rotate over. She probably scared the mantas away. It took about 30 minutes of tense anticipation, but while staring down at the blue abyss, we heard the guide yell, “Manta!” Chelsay and I swam over quickly to take in the majestic giant. At around 3 meters wide, this female manta was bigger than me, yet swam with such gentle grace. Its grace is deceptive though, because it’s actually still moving quickly - between our hunt and subsequent chase, I probably swam 3 km that morning.

Chels and I were tired when we got back to Paradise Cove, but it was our last day so we decided to snorkel the house reef one more time. It was cool to see the soft coral again, but we were pooped. I actually had to tow Chelsay back: you know, when I swim in front and my wife just holds onto my foot.

As I was towing her, we passed over a shallow part of the reef but I kept powering along. Suddenly, Chelsay let go of my foot and started slapping the water. I stopped in my tracks, unsure what she was freaking out about. She swam off, so I followed, and it wasn’t until we’d gotten to shore that she told me what it was: apparently a venomous white-banded sea snake popped out and launched within 1.5 ft of me. That was enough sea life for this trip, so we spent the rest of the day on the resort’s inflated jungle gym. We laughed, played around, and attempted backflips (key word: attempted). Just a reminder that I’d turned 30 a few days before.

That note actually transitions well into my conclusion…

A lot of people get anxious about their 30th birthday. It isn’t a vitality thing - too early for that - but the anxiety comes more from gauging where you are vs where you thought you’d be. Life isn’t a checklist, but it’s natural to have expectations for when you turn 30, 40, etc. Well, I’m writing this from my villa patio in Fiji, so I’m nailing the “Where you are” part. To answer that question less literally though, I’ll instead consider “Where I am” against Chelsay and I’s life motto, something we wrote in our wedding vows: “We’ll never let age get in the way of our youth.” This is perfect motto for age-related milestones because youth isn’t a concept tied to age. It isn’t chapter in your life that just fades away. It’s a mindset, and it’s one you can measure whether you’re 5, 20, 30, 40, or 80. To be youthful is to be energetic, playful, and optimistic. Now I’m technically 30, but this milestone age doesn’t bother me. “Where I am” is energetic enough to swim with Mantas, playful enough to laugh at awkward cake situations and splash around on an inflatable jungle gym, and optimistic enough to make a celebratory Fiji weekend happen despite all of life’s complexities. I’m not worried about turning 30, because after the past weekend, I know I’m as youthful as I’ve ever been.

[therealcalicali]

PROLOGUE: CLOSER TO ME

Synopsis: Upon moving to a new city,  the Reader crosses paths with Ivar, Hvitserk and the rest of the Lothbrok clan. Since her own life is already filled with internal demons from a strict upbringing, their introduction into her life only adds to the drama. As things progress, Reader discovers that there is more to her interactions with Ivar and Hvisterk than meets the eye.

Read Chapter 1 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 1

Read Chapter 2 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 2

Read Chapter 3 here: CLOSER TO ME: Chapter 3

Read Chapter 4 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 4

Read Chapter 4 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 5

Read Chapter 6 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 6

Read Chapter 7 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 7

Read Chapter 8 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 8

Read Chapter 9 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 9

Read Chapter 10 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 10

__________________________________

Prologue Warnings: None     

Word Count: 6500+         

Setting: Modern Vikings

Genre: Romance/Drama                   

Pairing: Ivar x Reader x Hvitserk (Love Triangle)

Tagged: @irishhiggins  @mblaqgi  @i-care-bout-you-boo  @peaches-seed  @sajess98

You suddenly felt very stressed out. Not that it didn't happen to you once in a while but this particular day was different. It was as if the conversation with your mother had taken you back to the awkward childhood and teen years you've tried so hard to escape.

“Come on Y/N. Let’s forget about it for now.” You advised yourself about your mom’s criticism of your personal life.

Despite it being a Friday night, you were scheduled to work so you didn’t have time to mope around. After a quick shower, you hastily dressed and put on your make-up. Since you didn’t have enough time to do any type of hairstyle, you opted for a sleek ponytail. After putting on your earrings, you grabbed your purse before you realized you had misplaced your car keys. For what seemed like forever, you tore up the apartment before you finally found them under the couch.

“How the hell did they wind up down there?” 

By now, your make-up had begun to smudge a bit due to your increased activity. The light layer of sweat was not only on your face but on your body as well. 

Grateful to have located the keys to your 1998 Honda Civic, you dashed to your balcony and opened the sliding glass door. Relaxing yourself, you allowed the cool night air to wash over you. You crisp white blouse and black pencil skirt finally stopped sticking to you as the moisture on your body dried away.

"Ugh! Why can't we ever just have a normal conversation? Just once!!" You pondered with exasperation looking off into the distance.

In silent contemplation, you stared into the beautiful night sky a few minutes before returning indoors to head for work. You had barely finished sliding on your black work pumps when you knocked over the forgotten cup of cold coffee onto the beige carpet.

"For the love of God! Can anything go right today?" You screamed in frustration. Your voice almost echoed in the one bedroom apartment you had resided in for only 4 months.

It was a new place as well as a new city. Just what you needed to get away from your overbearing family and nosey friends. And despite what they all thought, you didn't go running back home in defeat. Truthfully, you had surprised everyone. No one actually thought you could live so far away from home, but so far, so good.

You glanced at you cell phone for the time as you stepped out of your apartment door.

"Crap! 7:45 pm!" You observed with a roll of your eyes.

Your shift was supposed to start at eight but thanks to your mom, you had really lost track of time. Luckily, you lived pretty close to the freeway. Despite running late, with some luck you could probably get there at a decent time. You quickly made your way down the steps of the second floor all the way to the gated parking garage. 

"Hey Y/N! How have you been?" 

The sweet voice belonged to your neighbor and acquaintance Marianna. She was seated her red BMW waiting for the gate to open wide enough for her to leave. Looking at her immaculate makeup and her professionally styled hair, you immediately felt frumpy.

"I'm doing pretty good. Just running late." You replied with wave.

"Oh? So, what's his name?" Marianna gave you a devious grin. 

“Nothing like that. I'm just going to work." You said in a soft tone as you unlocked your car door.

Marianna shook her head with feigned disappointment and pulled her lips into a toddler-like pout. It actually got a genuine giggle out of you. She was quite a raven haired beauty with a very outgoing personality. You could definitely see that she had what most people would refer to as an A-type personality. The funny thing was that despite you being quite the introvert, you admired her jovial, outgoing nature. 

Besides, if it hadn't been for her picking conversations with you by force in the laundry room and apartment gym, you wouldn't know anyone except the people at work.

"Well, I guess I'll see you in three days. I'm working the New York route for extra money. Saving up for VEGAS you know." 

She made sure to emphasize the word Vegas because she had recently made you promise to go. For whatever reason, as busy as Marianna’s social life was, she seemed intent on befriending you. Why, you had no clue. But then again, you thought it would be sort of nice to experience new things with her leading the way.

With the gate finally opened all the way, Marianna threw you a peace sign and drove off.

When you finished buckling in, you tried to start your car. To your horror however, it took three attempts for the ignition to finally kick in. Upon hearing the engine and radio come to life, you heaved a huge sigh of relief. After the day you had so far, the car not starting would have just been the icing on the cake.

"Guess I do have some luck left after all." You though to yourself.

__________________________________

Loud music and boisterous conversations hit you as soon as you walked into "Club 52". The state-of-the-art nightclub was a hot spot almost seven days a week. Obviously, the weekends were jammed packed. From live performances, burlesque shows and much more , it was lit. Needless to say that when it came to atmosphere, your workplace had it all.

"Well, well, well. Glad to see a certain somebody finally decided to join us. Welcome, il mio timido (Italian: my shy one)." Your boss; Frank Pesci's; deep voice boomed as you tried to quickly put on your apron behind the main bar counter.  

He was a dark haired, blue-eyed Sicilian who always wore tailored suits that fit him to perfection. And today was no exception. Even in late fifties, he was quite the head turner. Women of all ages flirted with him on a regular basis but he only had eyes for his wife of 25 years.

You gave your boss a nervous smile and hoped you weren't in any real trouble. Weekend were important in the club scene so you hated that you were almost half an hour late. Frankie; as he liked to be called; was the kindest man you had ever met so he most likely wasn't going to be too harsh. 

As you finished tying your apron, you tried to decide whether or not to lie about why you were late. As if he knew what you were up to, Frankie watched you with an amused expression as you brainstormed. His blue tie made his blue eyes seem even brighter as they gazed into Y/C eyes.

"Oh forget it! I better just stick to the truth." You told yourself finally.

"I'm so sorry. I guess I lost track of time while talking to my mom. It won't happen---."

Frankie lifted one finger up to cut off your apology. The action spoke volumes about what he was going to say. He had hired you after you practically begged for the job despite not having any experience. Being generous, he had taken pity on you after initially trying to dismiss you from the job interview.

You had explained how you were new in town and that he was your last hope before your rent was due. It was safe to say he was touched by your plight because he hired you despite better candidates interviewing that same day. 

Frankie shot you a genuine smile and calmly informed you it was going to be a busy night due to several private parties going on. The biggest private party was in the Blue Room and he wanted you and your coworker Folaki to host the event.

"ME? PRIVATE PARTY HOSTESSING? Nope!" You internally objected.

Just the mere thought of it made you feel queasy. Unfortunately before you could protest the duty, Frankie gave you a sly smile and walked off to talk to patrons. 

"Ugh! He did that on purpose!" You said aloud without realizing just how loud you had really been.

"You need to relax Y/N. It's not as bad as you think it's going to be."

Folaki, with her slight Nigerian accent, playfully bumped your hip with her own. She had worked at Club 52 for over three years and was super popular with the patrons. And much like Marianna, she was extremely sociable. 

Before you could get a word in edgewise, she grabbed you wrist lightly and soon had you struggling to keep up with her pace. As the two of you walked towards the Blue Room, Folaki enthusiastically tried to encourage you.

"Look Y/N, it's about time you worked the private parties. Trust me. They're so much fun. Just chat people up and play games with them. You'll get the biggest tips you’ve ever seen." Folaki said as she turned to you and swayed her hips seductively. "It's the best tips you'll ever get without working at a strip club girl. Trust me." 

You were quite horrified at the thought of chatting up strangers. It was all good and well when you worked the regular floor because you could be reserved and speak when necessary. But with party room guests, they were expecting a superb host/hostess for the money they dished out. 

"Do you think I could just switch out with Jason? I mean, he's done this tons of times. Besides, it will make things go smoother for you if he’s helping instead of me." You said attempting to convince Folaki as you passed by the Red Room. 

The Blue Room was within sight and your heart began beating in your ears so loudly that it drowned out all other sound around you. Folaki glanced at you after checking her makeup in her compact one last time.

"Don't even try it Y/N." She giggled while shaking her head. Seeing how nervous you were, she put her arm around you as you walked side-by-side. "Look, Frankie said he wants you to get out of your comfort zone. He strictly forbid everyone from switching assignments with you.”

Noticing your still apprehensive expression, Folaki gave you a tight squeeze. “Don't worry  so much. We're going to kill it. You and I are going to make a great team."

"Great.” You thought. 

___________________________

The Blue Room was buzzing with activity, music and lots of laughter. Despite being nervous as hell, you noticed that whomever had rented it out, had really good taste. The color scheme was white, black and blue and very upscale in decor. 

Typically the themes chosen by patrons ranged from amusing to gaudy but this was stylish all the way. You were so lost in thought that you almost forgot why you were there in the first place. That was until Folaki yelled your name. 

Looking up, you saw her at what appeared to be the main table beckoning you with her hand. Apprehensively, you began making your way through some attendees. As you neared the table, you nearly froze when everyone seated there turned to look at you. If it had been possible to run away at that very moment without getting fired, you would have.

There were several men and two women staring at you with various facial expressions. One of the women; a blonde; looked you up and down with some disdain before sipping her water. You noted that the men at the table were all very handsome. Not that you got a really good look because you tried to keep your eyes on Folaki. 

"So, as I was saying guys, I'm Folaki and this here is my partner in crime Y/N.”

You gave a polite wave to the group upon hearing your name. As you did so, you noticed that a guy with a somewhat solemn expression was looking at you instead of Folaki. It made you uneasy because you had always hated when people stared at you for too long. It made you self-conscious.

“We'll be your hostesses for tonight so don't be shy if you need anything." Folaki spoke with so much passion that everyone at the table was hanging on her every word. "And for the record, I'm not just talking food and drinks. If you need REAL competition come game time or karaoke, holler at your girl." She added pointing to herself with a haughty shift of her shoulders.

The last bit got a huge amount of laughter from everyone at the table to your surprise. The guys especially seemed entertained by her cocky declaration. One guy promptly slapped a hundred dollar bill onto the table. 

"Alright Folaki. You and me! We'll play Punch-Out when I'm ready!" The dark haired guy said with a distinct accent. His blue eyes danced as he playfully scowled at your coworker thinking she would back down.

"Well, it’s your money. Don't say I didn't warn you." A confident Folaki responded before pulling out the work tablet from her apron.

"Well then, two hundred says Folaki whips your ass Ivar!" Another guy said as he too slammed money down.

This caused ruckus and chatter as the others also placed bets. As this was going on, Folaki leaned down to a muscular blonde guy to get drink instructions. You watched all of it totally unsure of what to do or say next. Boy, were you ever out of your element. While lost in your thoughts; as usual; you felt a tug on your apron.

"What are you daydreaming about?"

You looked down to see the attractive guy that had been staring at you earlier. He still had hold of the hem of you apron despite having gained your attention. Tilting his head slightly, he smirked at your uncomfortable expression.

"I...um, I'm so sorry. Uh, is there anything I can do for you sir?"

He seemed genuinely amused by your nervousness and chuckled a bit. The blonde chick at the table didn't seem as entertained though. You noticed that she had leaned over to whisper something to the brunette. The two women looked at you and inaudibly laughed which caused the back of your neck to get hot. 

You knew very well they were talking about you and it wasn't anything nice, of that you were certain. You composed yourself as best you could and turned your attention to the attractive guy again and waited for his order. As he pondered, you took out your tablet. 

Fiddling with it at least gave you a reason not to look at anyone. Especially the two bitches who kept eyeing you for whatever reason. 

"You don't have to be so formal you know. Take a note from your friend Folaki. We don't bite." The blue eyed guy said with an innocent raise of his eyebrow. 

"That is….unless you want us to. Isn't that right Hvitserk?" A curly haired blonde exclaimed as he put the guy you were speaking with into a playful choke-hold.

"Get off me Sigurd, you jackass! Can’t you see I'm trying to get drinks?" Hvisterk said as he tried to get out of the wrestling hold. 

Finally, when he had set himself free, he elbowed Sigurd and looked at you again. You noted that all of them had heavy accents but couldn't quite place the origin. 

"Can’t you see I'm trying to get drinks?" A voice mimicked Hvitserk. 

You looked to see a handsome man walk up. The blonde man was so striking that you almost lost your train of thought. His expressive eyes danced over you a moment before turning them to Hvisterk.

"Happy Birthday son. So, think you’re man enough to take me down yet?" The man said as he wrapped a strong arm around Hvitserk's neck.

For his part, Hvitserk was stronger than he looked. He managed to escape his father’s sturdy clutch and stood up. The two of them stared each other down for a few moments, sizing each other up. You shifted on your heels nervous about what was going to happen next. To your relief, the father opened his arms and Hvitserk quickly embraced him.

“Thank God.” You thought.The last thing you wanted to do was clean up the aftermath of a fight.

As you observed them all, you noted that these people were quite aggressive. Not only in their actions but manner of speaking as well. You only hoped that the alcohol wouldn’t make them worse before the night was done.

"Ragnar! Well, I guess the Gods do have a sense of humor after all.” A slender and tall woman nonchalantly said arriving at the table. I'm glad to see you could make it. I thought for certain that you weren't coming. I guess your warden let you out for a change."

She placed her hands on Sigurd's shoulders and gave an obviously fake smile to the man. A few of the guys at the table noticeably cringed at her words. You could feel the tension at the table now and wished you could go check on other party guests. However, you decided to stay put. After all, it would have been rude not to wait for Hvitserk’s order. Especially now that you knew he was the guest of honor.

Ragnar scowled at the woman a moment before popping on a great big smile to your amusment.

"I see you're as beautiful and charming as ever Aslaug. You can rest your mind now because as you can see, I am very much present for my son's party." He added a crooked smirk at the end which seemed to irritate the Aslaug.

"Politely bickering as usual, aye?" A tall man happily jeered. 

He patted Ragnar on the shoulder and waved to Aslaug to her obvious annoyance. With a fake smile still plastered on her face, she departed causing almost the entire table to sigh in relief.  

"Was it something I said?" The tall man mischievously asked aloud. 

Ragnar and the others laughed at his remark but one guy in particular remained stone-faced. It was the boisterous one that had bet on the arcade game against Folaki. You knew his name started with an “I” but just couldn't remember what it was.

"Uncle Floki, mother is very sensitive." He gently stated with sincerity. "We shouldn't make light of her concern for us all." He stressed. 

The Floki gentleman laughed harder as did Ragnar. Even the other guys; who were trying not to laugh; couldn't contain their snickers.

"Ivar, please! You mother is the last person anyone would ever describe as sensitive." The muscular blonde guy chimed in as he ate a tortilla chip. 

Everyone burst into laughter again as Ivar glared at all of them with the most intense eyes you had ever seen. He had a storm in them no doubt. There was definitely something uncontrollable and ominous hidden underneath his handsome facade.

"Bjorn, my dear brother, you wound me." Ivar said in an oddly calm tone. "My mother has been through a great deal. Perhaps you could be more, oh, I don't know, understanding? He leaned back into his chair as he continued. “After all, your mother did everything in her power to make sure she won father back. Now mother is all alone. So you see, she has every right to be sensitive." A stern Ivar concluded.

Bjorn rolled his eyes and without a word got up to talk to other people, you assumed. From your peripheral view you saw Folaki finish speaking to a group of people near the door before leaving the Blue Room. Most likely to fill orders. The tension was still quite thick when suddenly Ivar's eyes landed on you.

"Hey you!" He snapped. "Why are you just standing there? Do your damn job and fuck off!"

Boy, did you wish you were dead. Everyone turned their attention to you. The blonde chick seated near Sigurd and Hvitserk covered her mouth as she giggled loudly. The brunette smiled slightly but seemed uncomfortable by what had just occurred. If there was ever a time where you wished the ground could open up and swallow you whole, this was it.

"Ivar! That's uncalled for." Sigurd said in your defense. 

"Shut up Siggy. He turned from Sigurd and looked you square in the face. “She's a worker who's supposed to be fetching food and drink not standing around listening to private conversations." 

Ivar silently taunted you upon noticing that your eyes were welling with tears. You were trying so hard to hold them in but knew that they could begin dropping at any moment. Your hands gripped the tablet so hard you thought for sure you would crack it eventually. Ivar looked quite satisfied with himself for whatever reason and was smiling in victory at you. 

"Um, I...I'll go check on the catering and your other orders. If...uh, you need anything else I'll be back in a few minutes." You quickly said and turned on your heels as quickly as possible. 

You were so eager to leave the scene that you navigated through the packed party effortlessly. As you were leaving, you faintly heard your name being called but chose to ignore it. You had to get away from those people at the head table NOW!

"Air. I gotta have some fresh air!"

_________________________

Somehow you managed to get into the employee break room before the tears finally fell. The bitter saltiness hit your tongue as you wept uncontrollably.

“Why are some people such assholes?” You wondered.

After a few minutes, you managed to pull yourself together. You wiped your face with Kleenex tissues and looked yourself over in a large mirror. Aside from your eyeliner being smudged, you looked alright. However, the slight puffiness of your eyes did giveaway the fact that you had been crying. You powdered your face and reapplied you lipstick before tossing them back into your locker  

“Jerk! I should have cracked this damn tablet over his head." You said aloud as you sat down on the sofa. 

Placing the tablet on your lap, you checked on their order statuses. Despite everything, you didn't want to make trouble for Frankie by not doing your job well. As you were getting ready to go outside for fresh air your cell buzzed. When you looked and realized it was your parent’s number you decided to let it go to voicemail. After all, you had enough bad things occurring at the moment without your mom coming for round two. You went out into the club and past the main floor without stopping to speak to anyone. 

You made your directly towards the exit anticipating fresh air. You finally got it as you stepped out onto the busy sidewalk. The streets were full of pedestrians of all ages out for a good time. Observing them almost made you forget the humiliation you had just endured.

The city was affluent and safe so you were never surprised to see the preteens out and about as well. As a group of them passed by you, one girl handed you a giant pink lollipop. You smiled and thanked them as you leaned against a streetlight. The owner of the flower shop across the street; Ms. Zimmel; noticed you and waved. She was most likely out for her regular smoke break. Unlike most flower shops, she was smart enough to keep her store open late into the night. 

But then again the location was unique. There was always heavy foot traffic so naturally she made a killing much like the other businesses on that strip. As you waved back to Ms. Zimmel, you felt a light tap in your shoulder.

"Excuse me. Y/N, correct?"

You turned around and came face to face with the curly haired blonde who had defended you.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

"I don't mean to bother you but…oh, where are my manners. I'm Sigurd by the way." He said extending his hand.

At first you were apprehensive but he looked at you with kind eyes which made you relent and shake his hand. Pleased by your willingness to listen, he immediately continued speaking.

"My father asked me to come and apologize to you, as did my brother Hvitserk. He's the one we’re throwing the party for." He grinned.

"Thanks Sigurd. Look, don't worry about it. I...I'm a professional and I'm going to finish the event despite what happened." 

You replied looking down at the pavement so he couldn't see that you didn't believe your own words. In actuality, you had no desire to return to the Blue Room but, knew you had to. At least you received an apology despite it not being from creep who insulted you in the first place.

Almost like he read your mind, Sigurd stated that he was sorry that Ivar had not apologized. 

"Don't take it too personally though Y/N. When my brother does stuff like this…he NEVER apologizes.” Sigurd shook his head in a show of exasperation. “It's just unfortunate that you happened to be within his gaze at the wrong time."

His words seemed very genuine so you finally decided to look up at him again. As you did, you took notice of a taller blonde guy with a long ponytail walk up behind Sigurd. 

“What the hell are they? A rock band or something?” You wondered.

"So what devious little things is my little brother convincing you to do? Rob a bank, knock off a few liquor stores?"

The blonde guy roughly tussled Sigurd's hair triggering Sigurd to elbow him hard in response. 

"For your information Ubbe, I was just making sure our hostess was okay."

"Well, are you?" Ubbe asked with a twinkle in his light blue eyes. He looked you up and down in a peculiar manner but you pushed it out if your mind. 

"Yeah. Thanks um..."

“Ubbe.” Ubbe interrupted to provide you his name.

“Thanks Ubbe. I appreciate the concern.” You said with a faint smile.

"We Lothbroks are gentlemen for the most part. You'll see." Ubbe gave you a crooked smile that resembled his father's. "Well, shall we go in and do this party up or what?" He asked you.

You knew it was time to do your job despite your heart not really being in it. Besides Folaki needed you and that outweighed some jerk talking down to you.

"Okay. I'm ready."

 ___________________________

When you entered the Blue Room behind Sigurd and Ubbe, you made a bee-line towards Folaki who had just finished placing a massive tray of tequila shots on the table. In her other hand she balanced an equally large tray of lemons, limes and salt shakers. How she managed to be so skillful and coordinated, you would never know.

When you reached her side, you thought she was going to be angry that you had vanished without telling her where you were going, but she wasn’t.

“Everything okay Y/N?”

“Uh, yeah. I was actually about to ask you the same thing.” You replied a bit surprised at her concern.

She placed the other tray down and whispered that she had heard about your incident from the Hvitserk. He had even asked her to find you and make apologies but she was unable to locate you.

“Oh, that’s because I was outside. Thanks for telling me though.” You said as you tried to stealthily glance at Hvitserk.

He must have been looking at you already because your eyes met as soon as you turned your head. You felt like such a dork as the two of you looked at each other for a moment. After all, you had not intended on getting caught. Without breaking his glance, Hvitserk lifted his tequila shot up as if to toast you. As you watched him as if you were hypnotized, he took the shot and winked flirtatiously. 

The wink made you turn from him immediately. What you didn’t know was that the abrupt manner in which you turned away amused Hvitserk. He leaned over to laugh about it with Ubbe, Sigurd and his Uncle Floki.

“I think our other hostess is one of those shy types. It’s so different than what I’m accustomed to.” Hvitserk chuckled as he grabbed a lemon wedge and another shot of tequila from the tray.

Ubbe looked over at you and back to the guys. 

“Indeed. No one would ever describe our women as shy.” Ubbe said with another glance in your direction.

Sigurd nodded his head in agreement and took a shot. Hvitserk took another shot and stated that he found it fascinating to interact with a woman who wasn’t aggressive. Ivar rolled his eyes at their conversation but said nothing. He was too busy trying to keep the blonde girl; now seated next to him; from giving him a hickey.

“We’re at a party with my family. Control yourself woman!” He commanded as she playfully leaned on him and stroked his cheek.

“But you said you liked it when I’m the initiator. Besides, I’m bored.” She cooed in a phony erotic tone.

The brunette girl swigged down her tequila and bit her lemon wedge. After she threw the peel down, she looked at the blonde.

“What my cousin means to say, Ingrid, is that it’s all good and well when we’re hanging out but not with our parents and extended family around. I mean, it’s kinda gross.” The brunette added with a bit of irritation in her voice.

“Whatever Tonna. Unlike you, I am not afraid of public displays of affection...or what people think about me for that matter.” Ingrid replied with pride.

Tonna, wanted to say something else but decided against it. She instead turned to chat with Ubbe. The fair-haired Ingrid snuggled her head on Ivar’s shoulder who, for whatever reason was scowling at you. 

He watched as you served some attendees and then arrive back at the head table. Folaki had gone to speak with the caterers about the cake so you were on your own.

“Hey everyone.” You said softly. “The food is going to be served soon but I wanted to know-”

“Louder! For the love of Odin, who exactly is supposed to hear anything you’re trying to say?” Ivar bellowed.

Your heart started beating rapidly as you tried to remain calm. You had hoped that the asshole was done harassing you for the night but obviously he wasn’t. A drunk Floki; who was standing behind Ivar; shook his head as he patted the young man’s shoulder. It was his silent way of telling his nephew to take it easy.

“Don’t pay him any mind, my dear. He’s just having a bit of fun with you.” A jovial Floki said.

“Fun? This is the little bastard’s idea of fun?” You thought.

Ivar’s sinister glare didn’t diminish. You could literally feel his intimidating energy all over your body despite avoiding looking in his direction.

“I, I was saying that, if there’s anything you need before I go check on your guests, please-”

“This must be the work of Loki! I mean, this can’t be real. Seriously, were you a death-mute when you were younger Y/N?” Ivar cupped his hand to his ear as if he was struggling to hear you. “Speak up!”

Everyone watched to see what your reaction was going to be. Naturally some were laughing because the liquor had kicked-in with the exception of Sigurd, Hvitserk and Ubbe. Ubbe especially, was over Ivar’s behavior. As he sipped his rum and coke, he glared at his younger brother. Despite giggling a little bit, even their cousin Tonna seemed to feel a bit sorry for you. She hit her cousin’s shoulder and told him to stop.

Remorseless, Ivar shrugged his shoulders and acted stunned that she would defend you.

“What cousin?” He said innocently. “Do you not see that she isn’t made for this? Hun er en skæftig mus! (Danish: She’s a timid mouse!) You can tell she’s never been popular.” He impishly looked at you. ”Isn’t that right mus?”

You felt like someone had exposed you. As if his words had left you naked in front of everyone. You were angry and sad all at the same time. It was a familiar mixture of emotions you hadn’t felt since moving to your apartment. Your mind flashed with images of your youth and college years. It was just a blur of bad memories.

“Look at her. She’s like a deer in headlights.” A pleased Ivar said as he swigged his tequila down.

A dark haired guy placed his hand on your shoulder snapping you out of your daydream.

“Apologies, my dear. I’m afraid he gets quite temperamental when he drinks. To answer your question, we are in need of several pints of beer. Guinness, if you please.”

“Tell her to make some of them extra stout, Alfred.” A drunk Ragnar said as he walked past the two of you.

“Well, I suppose you heard my Godfather’s request.” Alfred laughed. 

You were just about to do as Alfred had asked when Ivar’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, Y/N! Not only are you apparently quite incompetent at your job but daft as well. Look, I’ll spell if for you. B E E R! ” He wrinkled his nose at you and furrowed his eyebrows like a mischievous child. “Now.......fetch!”

Ivar continued drinking his beer and chuckling at the same time. His amusement at your expense was bad enough but commanding you as if you were a dog pissed you off. At that moment in time, his smug face and chuckling was all you could see. It simply pushed you over the edge. And that’s when it happened.  

You don’t know why you did it, but you did something you didn’t know you were capable of. After all, you were always nice even in the worst of situations. But not this time. You snatched the commemorative beer horn out of a stunned Alfred’s hand. In a heartbeat, you leaned past a tattoo-faced man and poured all of the horn’s contents on Ivar. 

Ingrid, the blonde chick, must have perceived what you were about to do because she moved quickly enough from Ivar’s shoulder that only a few drops hit her.

Cold, dark beer washed over his head, face and down his upper body before he even realized what was happening. You didn’t stay to see his reaction, or anyone else’s for that matter. Still clutching the beer horn, you rushed towards to exit of the Blue Room as quickly as your pumps would allow. You heard the great ruckus behind you but didn’t turn around. If you weren’t imagining things, you could swear it sounded like applause and laughter.

In the Blue Room, the word of what you did spread like wildfire. The men especially got a huge kick out of your actions. The reason for their admiration of your actions was due to whom Ivar was. Not that the other men in his family weren’t feared but Ivar was another story altogether. Despite being the youngest Lothbrok, he was as savage as he was cunning. And when it came to him dishing out cruelty, let’s just say no one had ever given a dose of his own medicine.

“You deserved it, Ivar.” A tipsy Hvisterk said to his brother who was being dried off by Ingrid. 

The blonde was going on and on about how you would be fired once your boss got word. As she continued to dry him the best she could, Ivar stood motionless with a scowl that could kill. If you had been there, he may have very well done so.

“We should complain to her supervisor as soon as possible.” Ingrid suggested wiping Ivar’s hair with a towel your coworker Folaki had provided. 

Despite knowing what you had done, Folaki was keeping it to herself. She knew you needed time away from everyone so worked the floor herself. Since the food was already being served by catering, she didn’t have to do anything except serve drinks.That was something she could do with her eyes closed so she kept working hoping you were alright.

It didn’t take long for Aslaug, their mother, to rush over to the head table. She looked at her son Ivar with shock. Almost as if she thought the story about a hostess pouring beer on her son had been a lie. Without asking, she snatched the towel from Ingrid’s hand and continued drying Ivar’s hair herself.

Hvitserk wasn’t going to watch his mother dote over Ivar when he was in the wrong. He stood up and in his typical quiet manner, began to walk away. 

“Son, I hope this didn’t ruin your party.” Aslaug said as she finished drying Ivar’s hair.

“Of course not mother. I’m just going to mingle with some of our guests. After all, I can’t sit at the head table all night.” He added glaring at Ivar.

Ivar was unfazed. He wasn’t a stupid man and knew very well what his brother was implying my the look he gave. Despite what Hvitserk or anyone else thought, Ivar simply didn’t see anything wrong with his actions. In his eyes, you were the only one in the wrong and that was then end of it as far as he was concerned. 

Floki; who was seated nearby with his wife Helga; knew you were in trouble. All the enjoyment everyone got out of Ivar’s comeuppance most likely increased his rage towards you. 

“Ivar, let us see if we can do this without making the poor girl lose her job.” Floki leaned and whispered in his nephew’s ear.

But Ivar’s mind was made up. He didn’t process things like most people so you would have to make amends. What that was, even he didn’t know what he wanted from you just yet. But he knew he wanted you to grovel.

“If I am satisfied that she is remorseful Uncle, then fine. But if not, she can live on the streets for all I care.” He looked at Floki with a very sedated expression. “She would learn what happens when you don’t think of the consequences of your actions.

“You’re one to talk.” Bjorn said taking a seat with a massive beer mug in hand.

“No one was speaking to you, brother. I was the one offended and I will deal with it as I see fit!” Ivar replied with flared nostrils.

“Why don’t we all just have some more drinks first.” Harald Finehair suggested as he got Folaki’s attention. He asked her to bring bottles of a strong liquor called Akvavit.  

It was a smart move on Harald’s part. He and his brother Halfdan knew that if they let Ivar keep going on, he would only wind himself up even more. They had seen what he was capable of in his moments of blind rage and didn’t feel like seeing any of it that evening.

____________________________________

In the breakroom, you had been seated on the floor by your locker for what seemed like forever. You were still shocked about everything. If the beer horn hadn’t been laying by your side, you wouldn’t have believed that you had poured beer on a patron.

“That little shit! Now I’m going to lose my job. I should have held it together better.” You vented. “I shouldn’t have let him push my buttons like that.”

You decided not to delay the inevitable. You knew you had to face the music and there was no use in hiding in the breakroom. Because sooner or later, the word was going to spread to Frankie. As you stepped out of the breakroom, you almost crashed into Jason. He was one of the nicest people at your workplace and the two of you hit if off from day one. He was Jewish but he would always  inform everyone that he wasn’t a “practicing Jew”.  Whatever that meant. The two of you were pretty close so naturally he took the opportunity to tease you about working your first private party.

“So, virgin, how’s it going so far? Was it all you thought your first time would be?” He joked.

You hesitated a moment before you ran down the whole story about being harassed all night and what you did prior to hiding in the breakroom.

“Well, personally, it sounds like he deserved that shit. You should have hit him with the beer horn too.”

You burst into laughter at Jason’s response. His funny remark actually made you feel better than you had all night. 

“Look, if they try to get you in trouble with Frankie, I’ll go to bat for you.” Jason said giving you a quick hug. “Now, let me go check on my VIP’s”

With that, the two of you went your separate ways. Since you had made up your mind to tell Frankie everything yourself, you began walking towards the main floor of the club. 

I’ll just tell Frankie everything and hope for the best.” You thought. “One thing’s for sure, I won’t apologize. Jason is totally right. That guy deserved even worse!”

As you turned left into one of the corridors near the private party rooms, you were caught off-guard by a sight that made your heart sink.

You saw the man you were wishing death and all other types of natural disasters upon headed in your direction. You weren’t sure if he had been trying to find your boss or another manager but you suddenly didn’t care. All your anger dissipated as you watched him wince with each step he took. You just felt terrible for what you had done now that you saw his true condition. Having grown up with a cousin who was Autistic, you had a real soft spot for people with disabilities.

Despite the numerous people in the corridor, Ivar’s blue eyes somehow found you. Clearing your throat you approached him quickly so he wouldn’t have to walk any further. As soon as you were in front of him, his eyes darkened and his expression was that of a man who could strike you down on the spot.

“Y/N! You have some nerve! You think you could embarrass me and just walk away? Well, you’re--”

“I’m sorry.”

Ivar’s voice broke as you interrupted him. He looked at you with confusion and anger. Regardless, he was taken aback.

“What I did was beyond unprofessional. It was also very rude to do that to you in front of your family and friends.” You added.

He looked at you for a little while before he finally said that he wanted you to apologize to him in front of everyone at the party. 

“You did it publicly so you can apologize publicly.” He added.

“Okay. It seems like the right thing to do.” You replied.

Ivar scoffed as he began walking towards the Blue Room again. 

“Right thing to do?” He echoed your words. “Are you always so eager to make amends Y/N?” He looked at you as he took his painful steps. “Should I assume you to be a pushover?”

Your actually pondered his question for a moment instead of getting mad. In actuality, your friends back home had always accused you of being a pushover despite them being the one’s who took advantage of you most.

“I’m not a pushover.” You asserted to his amusement. 

“Sure. A smirking Ivar said. “Is that why you apologized without me even speaking to your boss?”

Since he was actually somewhat correct, you said nothing. The rest of the walk to the Blue Room was silent. Ivar didn’t say anything else and you felt that you had pushed your luck with him far enough for one night. 

_________________________________

When you entered the Blue Room, the party was in full swing. People were having too good of a time to pay any attention to the two of you. Everyone except Hvitserk, who swiftly made his way over to see what Ivar was up to.

“What’s going on here?” He looked at you and then to Ivar.

Ivar rolled his eyes without giving response. He instead grabbed a cocktail off the tray a passing Folaki was holding. She locked eyes with you briefly as if to wish you luck before disappearing into the crowd.

“I’m going to give an apology to your guests...and Ivar.” You answered.

“What?” A displeased Hvitserk looked at Ivar. “Why are you making her do this?”

“No. Listen, it was my idea.”It wasn’t your idea of course, but you could tell that the two brothers differed on how you should make amends. “I crossed the line. After all, it’s my duty to remain professional no matter what’s going on.” You assured him.

As you tried to walk past the two brothers to go find a microphone, you felt a strong hand grasp your arm. You turned around to see a smug Ivar leaning on his crutch and holding your arm with his free hand. He then looked at Hvitserk who seemed as confused as you were. With his eyes still on his brother, Ivar spoke to you.

“Y/N, it is okay. Now that I think about it, the apology in the hallway will suffice.” He said letting go of your arm.

You had no clue as to why he had changed his mind but whatever the reason was, you were grateful. 

“Thank you so much...Ivar. And you as well Hvitserk.” You began walking in the direction of Folaki. “If you two are okay for the moment, I’m going to help Folaki. Let me know if you need anything.”

Hvisterk watched you walk away until he could no longer see you which, of course, didn’t go unnoticed by Ivar.

"Enjoying the view brother?”

A blushing Hvitserk shook his head and popped a potato chip in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to give Ivar an answer.

[rrrawrf]

twas the day before thanksgiving

so, naturally, the airport went to hell in a handbasket.

credit to @thewinedarksea for the edit!!

so i’m gonna take y’all through this step by step.

my usual schedule is 530am to 600pm. a couple weeks ago, to be nice, i took a coworker’s 3 to 6 shift today on top of this, because they have a family and a real life outside their job, and meanwhile i’m just an airport troll who lives there anyway.

usually i work ramp or ops, because i like them better than dealing with passengers. today, i am actually the gate agent :) all day. :) :) :)

so we start today off nice and easy, with a mainline flight to denver that leaves at 705 am and is, of course, oversold. because it’s the day before thanksgiving, so of course it is.

fortunately, someone doesn’t show up for their flight, so we board everything smoothly, get gate checks, everyone has their seat assignment, it’s just another flight. i have to supervise my gate assist when she pulled the jetbridge back from the plane bc she is new and nervous, and then literally right after that, i have to go supervise two of the rampers in deicing the plane bc they are also new and nervous.

everything goes fine. it’s fine. no big deal.

next plane is a chicago flight (ORD #1) at like 9 something or other. we don’t usually have this chicago flight during the off season, so i had no idea i was working it until like 20 minutes before it landed.

scootch my bootch upstairs to deal with it. i’m merrily going about giving seat assignments to passengers when i get a call from downstairs.

“lisa there is a pet going on this flight, i need you to come accept it”

“admin j, my sign in does not work for this airport (still)”

“can you please come down i am sending another gate agent”

i go back downstairs while a very nice lady coworker takes over for me at the gate

turns out, the governor of a state i used to live in is flying out! turns out, he is also shipping a dog! turns out, we only found out AFTER the load plan had been locked, so we can’t get the dog on the plane! turns out! the governor and his dog aren’t even at the airport yet!

(: (: (: (: (: (: (: (: (: (: (: (:

my manager, thankfully, gets involved as me and our main ops agent say no, we cannot get this dog on this plane, load planning cut us off, the guy isn’t even here, he doesn’t get to try and ship a dog less than an hour before departure and not even be here with the dog.

while my manager is down at the counter trying to manage things, this poor old lady who just wants to check in and needs wheelchair assistance shows up, so i bail on my manager and wheel her up to security

“i ship dogs with you guys all the time!” says the very late and angry governor to my manager, as i gleefully make my escape with a very kind old woman who later gives me a ten dollar tip

i manage not to flip the governor off, but his assistant may have heard me call the governor a bastard very loudly in the break room. i feel bad about this. i thought he was the mayor of a very large city by a very large lake, who with which my friends back in said state have had previous experience with in the flying arena.

when i get the lady back up to ORD #1, my fellow gate agent is just starting pre-boarding, so i just swoosh kind lady on down to the plane and help her to her seat, come back, displace a ramp agent who has some gate training as he tried to help the actual gate agent seat people. it was very kind of him, but he was out of practice and i took over and let him abscond back to the outdoors to throw bags, as i look on longingly from the gate windows and wish that i, too, could return to my natural habitat.

we rock ORD #1, get it out on time, everyone celebrates and i do my paperwork

time for ORD #2!

this is a smaller plane. it has 4 open first class seats. it has no one on the upgrade list. the only people with status were the very basic united credit card holders who really don’t get any benefit from the credit card at all.

do you know what this means?

it means i get to go hog wild.

we’re oversold by three in economy, so i have to upgrade people. i upgrade a dad and his lil son bc they had a hilarious last name and bc i just wanted to make someone’s day. i also upgrade a young couple. upgrading these four people meant i could throw two parents and their three kids together, a mom and her kid, her husband and their other kid, all in good seats next to each other with no families being separated. a guy on the heavier side asks if i can get him some extra legroom. unfortunately, i gave all the extra legroom seats to people with kids, BUT i have two empty seats in the back, so i move a couple people from a row back a row up and free up the guy his own row.

i am l i v i n g

breaking policy left and right

throwing upgrades away like oprah

it’s a thanksgiving miracle

(i go down to the plane to give the flight attendants their paperwork. they are less than thrilled with the woman of the younger couple that i upgraded - she was being mean and disrespectful. i feel bad for the amount of time it takes me to close the door and pull the jetbridge back, bc how would i have known this girl who got a free upgrade would be a witch? karma will get her back later.)

and then

ḑ̴̥̭̪̝͉̰̈́̓̆̃̈́̓̎̎͐̀͗ ȩ̸̧̛̠͈͚̺̪̣̙̳̲̲͍͎̰͛̾͌̉̉̓̑̓̂͠ n̷̡̡̻̬͎̫̦̹̰̹͈̫̏͘͜͝ͅ v̵̫̬̫͋̔̆̊ e̵̟͗͐́̓ r̸̡͕͈͎̟̜̣̠̰̖̦̒͊̆̓̈́̅̉̔̑͛̐̍̕̚͜͜͝

because it’s the day before thanksgiving, our big boy mainline denver is oversold by two! because of course it is!

i start soliciting for volunteers right away. amazingly, i get three (technically five, but two were a pregnant lady and her husband, so i just went “nope we are not putting them through this nonsense” and ignored that)

the first kid was actually a volunteer for the same flight yesterday, and got bumped, and he volunteered again because he didn’t want to spend any more time with his family in seattle than he had to

#mood

two girls who are going to just denver also volunteer. i very happily take them, because volunteers are literal angels and should have shrines built in their honor

as it turns out, by the time we stop checking people in, we need only one volunteer. boy going to seattle is first on the list, so he gets to stay (he ends up on san fran flight later). i shoo the two very lovely girls onboard, along with the older couple who would have been involuntarily denied boarding, had a pack of millenials who don’t want to go home for thanksgiving not shown up to go “please give me a reason to stay in montana”

fellow gate agent and i spend the next six years trying to figure out how to process an oversale by ourselves. it goes well. kid walks away with 800 dollars of travel vouchers from yesterday, and 900 today, and ends up with 1700 all total. he is gaming the system and i am unceasingly proud of him for it.

normally, this would be the end of my day. 

it is not.

because now we have

the californias

because half of california is on fire and also experiencing extreme winds, our los angeles flight (LAX) is delayed by like four hours. our san francisco flight (SFO) is on a ground hold for an hour.

because it’s the day before thanksgiving. 

the reason i usually work 530 to 3pm is because i’m willing to get up early, than stay late, because the californias are always late. and if it isn’t the californias, it’s our last baby denver plane (denver the third). because DEN #3 is flown by gojet. and gojet is consistently late.

except for today.

SFO gets here first, and then are on the ground for like an hour because they’re only delayed because of a ground hold in san fran because of smoke and high wind speeds. everything is chill. no one comes up to me to get rebooked. pilot asks for a departure time 3 minutes before what the computer says, and i give it to him.

now, at this point, the delay on LAX is known. it is in the system. pax would have been notified via phone, email, and the flight boards in the gate.

so, naturally, you would think that people on LAX who need to be rebooked would come up to me in the hour before i have to board SFO, right?

when i have the time? when i can take fifteen minutes to look at their itinerary and work something out?

lol

miss mary, older lady who is a little worried but overall a pleasure to work with, shows up just before i start boarding SFO and needs to get to sacramento and was on that LAX flight

i have no gate assist, because denver #3 just landed at the other gate and the other two gate agents are dealing with it next door.

so i have to board this plane, and i can get miss mary on only if one passenger doesn’t check in before thirty minutes to departure

fortunately for miss mary, they do not

unfortuantely for miss mary, she has to stand there while i board, try to rebook her, stop boarding bc the preboarding woman who thought she could use a walker on the plane (you can’t, aisle is too narrow) needs an aisle chair to get to her seat, make one of my rampers stand at the door and keep everyone from boarding, run down the jetbridge, aisle chair this poor older woman on, apologize 500000 times because i should have just taken the initiative, boarded her like ten minutes early, and done it myself because none of the rampers know how to use an aisle chair, then run back up to the gate, finish rebooking poor miss mary, reroute her bag and get her on the plane

that would have been enough

BUT THEN

i am paging the last two SFO passengers. they’re being stupid and not there. fourteen minutes to departure, which is four minutes to closing the main cabin door, a guy shows up

“hey uh if those two people you’re calling don’t show up, can we get on this flight? ours is delayed”

:| “no”

“are you sure?”

“i cannot rebook you in four minutes”

he leaves. two minutes later, his girlfriend comes, while i am still boarding, and asks the same thing

i get angry with her

“is there really no way?”

“well i could delay the plane for you,” i snap, very frustrated by this point

i think i scared her, she backs off

five seconds later, my last two idiot passengers show up anyway and the plane is full, so gf and her bf wouldn’t have been able to switch onto my plane anyway

sidenote: for anyone who thinks that rebooking you is a matter of like two minutes and a smile

it is not.

i get SFO out, which much pain and almost tears (but i didn’t cry!!!!!)

meanwhile, next door, three of my other gate agents are scrambling to do denver #3

tryna get another girl on LAX onto denver #3 instead, one coworker is on the phone with her dad who is trying to work things out

HALFWAY THROUGH BOARDING DENVER #3

THE MOBILE BRIDGE ADAPTER BREAKS

the MBA is a little bridge we use on certain aircraft that we can’t bring the jetbridge up to as closely, so we just scoot a lil bridge out to the plane

the right hand railing won’t stay upright

so i yell at gate 6 to stop boarding, drag the broken MBA out of the plane, run over to gate 7, yell at a ramper to help me drag that MBA over to 6, get it set up, have to run back up to gate 6 to yell at them to start boarding again, because no one! is listening! to the radio!!!!!

they are still trying to rebook this poor girl on denver #3. last minute, her dad changes his mind and says no bc we can’t guarantee she will get to sacramento that night

we took

a one minute delay

because of this bullcrap

anyway after the flight was gone one of the other gate agents got her onto a delta flight, so that’s good for her

now we still have like three hours before stinkin’ LAX even gets here

things kinda slow down - except my dearest darlingest coworker x

oh, x :)

x COMMITS A VIOLATION OF SECURITY REGULATIONS BY BRINGING A BAG THAT HAD GONE THROUGH SCREENING INTO THE PASSENGER AREA

NO, X

YOU CAN’T DO THAT

X

W H Y

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

fortunately, no one is arrested and we get it sorted out. i nearly have a heart attack. we’re most definitely going to get an email about this.

at this point, it is 640pm. we are overstaffed bc we only have one plane to come in, so supervisor sends most of the rampers home

and

praise hallelujah

they send me home

and i wrote this

[maggyme13]

I just want to be like you

AN: This is my entry for @caplansteverogers Disney Challenge. I had the Song Prompt of “I want to be like you”-Jungle book. I hope I made it justice and you like it.

(y/n) is working for the Avengers. She didnt want to bother the others and so she got in a bit of trouble. And all of that because she just wanted to be a bit like Natashe (sorry, i suck at summaries)

FRIDAY

Thoughts

Natasha x Reader

Wordcount: around 3000

Warnings: nope :)

Masterlist

One year. That was the amount of time you had been working for the Avengers-Initiative. Not as one of the superheroes, a medic or a spy (you know the interesting kind of jobs)- no- you were responsible to stand in front of the press and answer questions, give conferences or schedule interviews with the members of the team.  Given that fact, you spend most of your time at the compound, gathering information to give out to the public, scheduling an autograph-session or the interviews with magazines. Sometimes you felt more like a manager or PA than a public agent.

Payment was good and because you lived at the compound (with free food an meals all day) you were able to save most of it and because of your heavy schedule, you had next to no time to even be able to spend it. Often times you had thought about getting a pet (you really loved dogs), but with how crazy your schedule could be, you didn’t want to stress it out or leave it for days at once with another person taking care of it.

Tony had bought a huge saltwater-fish tank for the lobby where the press or guests would be waiting and you just sat there at times and relaxes watching the hundreds of fish swimming around. At one point he had joked about getting sharks, to scare people they needed to question, but his wife Pepper Potts and Captain America himself had parted him from that plan. Though you had the feeling the plan wasn’t entirely of the table, because more than once you had seen the ex-Russian spy Natasha Romanov (also known as Black Widow), the ex-Hydra Agent Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes (aka THE Winter Soldier), Clint Barton (the famous Hawkeye) and Iron Man himself sticking their heads together near the tank and discussing things like space, how to lower someone down the easiest and safest way and if human excrements would be harmful to those dangerous animals. They had always stop talking though when they noticed you being close and you, the good employee you were, had always acted like you hadn´t heard anything at all.

Secretly you imagined having that tank whenever you had a stressful day with press or idiotic people harassing you when they thought they could get close to the Avengers through you. You then would imagine them hanging over said tank or swimming with the sharks. In reality you wouldn´t wish anybody to life that fate, anybody but one: Alexander Schwarz, a reporter for the worst magazine in existence, who thought if he kept flirting with you (more like harassing you) you would get him close to the Avengers and he could produce the biggest scandal ever. You hated that man with a passion, he didn’t get the hint and he wouldn’t even get it was it hit into his brain by Hulk with a steel-chair.

The conference you had to attend today was especially exhausting. On the last mission something had gone wrong and a few houses and fields had been destroyed (by the enemy!). Of course, Stark had immediately made sure anybody would get their houses rebuild (better like they were before), the hospital bills would be paid and the farmers that lost their products would get paid generously. As it was usually the case, and usually the press didn’t really care about it. But this time they smelled a scandal coming around and the protesters waiting outside the hotel where the conference was held, treated you like you had been the reason for it happening.

“You look exhausted (y/n). You should tell Tony that you need someone to help you. Or at least accompany you to those meetings so you don’t need to swim with those sharks alone. I can only do as much and stay close, I am of no help with the press.”, Happy piped up from the driver-seat. Even though he was the chef of security for Tony Stark, he often drove you, Pepper, Tony or any Avenger that needed a ride, to your appointments. And he didn’t seem to mind being a driver as well.

“It´s fine Happy. It´s only because of the damage caused during the last mission. That was like a drop of blood in a pool full of sharks. It´s not usually that horrid and stressful. Pepper managed press-conferences AND board-meetings when she was both Starks PA and literally leading Stark-Industries. If she can manage that, I can manage this a few times a year. Neither she nor Natasha would need an assistant.”, you sighted, looking out of the window, where you only were able to see your own image. That late it was already. It was past midnight and you knew you would have to wake up again in only a few hours, for you had promised Natasha to train with her.

“That’s true. Natasha would just scare the shit out of anyone of them with her Russian Assassin Charm and Pepper had a LOT of training being Tony´s PA and I am sure she is as dangerous as Natasha can be. Damn that woman has a look in her repertoire that can kill even an undead. Trust me I was close often enough when Tony got a scolding from her. I wouldn’t want to get on either of their bad sides.”, the man explained with a laugh, you knew he was right.

“But still-“, you sighted, ”Fine. I will at least think about it. Just promise me to not say anything as long as possible. To neither of them, please.”

“Fine. Just don’t work yourself to a breaking-point. If I think you come close I will sing like a bird on your only free morning of the week.”

“Fitting description.”, you laughed, “I promise. Now lets get home. I am tired like hell.”

“I hear you, (y/n).”

______

Ten minutes later you finally entered your room and you fell head first unto your bed, falling asleep at once.

A loud beeping sound scared you to sit up straight and you groaned realizing you had to get up already.

“Friday. Please turn off the alarm.”, you mumbled half asleep.

“As you wish. I advise to get ready. Mrs Romanov is already on her way to your room.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

Still more asleep than awake you got dressed in workout-clothes and quickly washed your face with cold water to at least get awaken enough to keep your eyes open. What turned out to be harder than it should be.

You looked somehow decent, when a knock sounded from your door and you went to open it. A very much awaken and enthusiastic looking Natasha greeted you.

“Morn´n Natasha. How ´r you?”, you mumbled with sticky eyes.

“Better than you it seems. You alright?”, he asked worriedly.

“mhm? Mhmm!. The confer´nce jus´ took longer than usu´l.”, you mumbled, supressing a yawn.

“You want to do this another day? I won´t be mad. You look like you need the few hours of extra sleep. Don´t exert yourself. I don’t want you to get hurt you know?”, she stated, with a cocked eyebrow.

“It´s fine. I need to get other stuff ready, so I would have to stand up soon either way. Tis way I will do som´thin´ for my health.”, you yawned before stumbling past the assassin and towards the elevators, with her following suit, a worried look on her face.

___

Entering the gym, you noticed that the supersoliders were already there, as well as Falcon and a sleeping Archer. Neither of them noticed you at first and you walked towards one of the bikes to get warm. Usually you would use the treadmill, but with how tired you were the bikes were less of a safety hazard for yourself. Would you fell asleep, you hoped you would just slump down onto the handlebars and not head first one the track and then down the floor like it would be the case with the treadmill.

Your heart sprung out of your chest after only a few minutes, that was how tired you and your body were and you must have fallen asleep for a second, because the next thing you knew were Clint clapping you onto your shoulder, waking you up with a start. Wasn’t it for his hand on your shoulder, you would have fallen off the bike.

“Morning (y/n). sorry I didn’t want to startle you. Didn’t thought you would be that much in thought.”, he apologised, “How come you are here this early? Usually you are here in the evening.”

“Promised Natasha to train with her.”, you answered, trying to look as awaken as possible.

“Yeah, Nat is an early riser.”, he laughed, sending someone behind you a look and you knew it was meant for Natasha from the kind of look it was. You had noticed pretty early those two had some kind of silent communication going on.

“True. Conference was longer than usual last night on top of that.”, you explained, and the man next to you looked like he understood what was going on.

“When did you came in?”, he asked, sounding as worried as Natasha had been before.

“No idea.”, you sighted.

“FRIDAY, when did (y/n) return from press last night?”, the man asked as once, catching the attention of everyone else around.

“She and Mr Happy returned at 2:23 am.”

“That was just three hours ago. Did you get any sleep?”, he exclaimed with widen eyes.

“Yeah.”, you mumbled, ashamed of being caught.

“I mean except the twenty minutes on this bike.”, he declared with a pointed look.

Shit. I slept twenty minutes on this bike. Fuck.

“Yeah, I fell asleep as soon as I hit the sack-I didn’t even change into my PJs.”, you admitted, a blush creeping onto your face, feeling every attending Avenger´s eyes on you.

“That’s not a lot of sleep. You are over exerting yourself.”, the Captain sighted and scolded at the same time.

“Its alright-“, you started to assure them, but were interrupted by him again. “No, its not. You just fell asleep riding an exercise bicycle. That´s not usual and right!”

“Usually its not that bad.”, you tried to reason, but a stare form him made you shut up at once.

“You will go back to your room and I will tell Tony you have the day off. NO arguments.”, he ordered in his Captain America voice and you sighted. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to look weak or helpless and, in your mind, you just looked both.

“Yes, Sir.”, you answered, not mocking but defeated and climbed off the bike, only to stumble into the Archer, who caught you with ease, “Sorry.”

“No worries. But do as he said, you look like a walking dead with how pale you are. Its ain´t healthy.”, he whispered in your ear.

“I will see her to her room.”, the man with the metal arm stated from behind you and you had the feeling there was more to it than just making sure you don’t fall asleep mid-step.

“Do that Buck. Natasha, we have training to do. And (y/n), I don’t want to see you out of your bed unless you go to the bathroom or to eat and drink something. Not unless you are fully rested I will have FRIDAY have an eye on you.”, and with that he and Natasha walked away to spar.

“Come on. Or do I need to carry you?”, your chaperone winked and you slowly stumble towards the elevators, him following suit.

“You know, I am not used to much sleep and walk around the compound at night, right?”, he began as soon as the doors of the elevator had closed.

Where is he going with this?

“I noticed you are often working until late at night doing schedules and preparing for press-conferences or whatever you do. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you being exhausted whenever a mission goes public or the flowers you want to dumb in the bin, only to decorate the common area with them. More than once I saw you asleep at your desk and missing meals because a statement had to be finished or things like that.”, he stated in a neutral tone.

“It´s not that often.”, you mumbled, ashamed that you had been caught. You had tried to sneak around at night, so no one would notice.

“Maybe not, but it is often enough I would define it as regular and common. You need to stop that.”, he almost ordered you, worry seeping into his voice.

“Yeah- can you do me a favour please? I am not allowed to leave my room, like you heard, and I am pretty sure there will be a bouquet of flowers be delivered this morning and- can you just get rid of it without throwing it away?”, you yawned, your eyes closing on your own accord.

“You going to tell me who is sending them?”, the man asked, guiding you out of the elevator and towards your room.

“Not now- too tired- maybe later.”, you mumbled.

“Fine. For now, sleep.”, he said, nodding towards your bed, “If FRIDAY tells me you aren’t in your PJs and then bed within 5 minutes I will make you. Understood?”

“Yeah. See you whenever I wake up again.”, you said, your eyes already closing again, and you heard the door close behind you. You knew he would keep his word and within a minute you laid in your bed, fast asleep.

___

The sun was already setting again, when you finally exited your room on the hunt for something to eat, your target was the fresh pizza you smelled coming from the common area´s kitchen. And your stomach rumbled so loud, you were sure half the compound would hear you coming closer.

“Look what the Pizza drew out of its cave.”, your bosses voice declared your arrival, “Fun aside. Heard Capsickle had to send you in time-out because you nearly killed yourself overdoing. How are you feeling?”

“Awake, still a bit tired, but at least I can open my eyes now. I will finish the work as soon as possible.”, you stated with an unsure smile, already dreading the hundreds of mails you would have to answer about the last press-conference.

“Not happening. FRIDAY already answered any Email you received today and will do so the next week and there won´t be any schedule to uphold for the next two weeks and you are on leave for the next three weeks. No arguments.”, He stated- no ordered you, “But enough of work-stuff. Eat and enjoy the evening before Capsickle or Pepper are going to rip me a new one.”

“Ok.”

“So, tell me. Why didn’t you tell me to fuck of this morning?”, the female Assassin scolded you, biting down on her own piece of pizza.

“Like anyone would ever tell you to ´fuck off´ and stay alive.”, you scoffed, “But seriously, I thought I would be able to make it. You never look exhausted.”

“Because I am used to only a few hours of sleep each night since I am a little girl. And trust me, I am exhausted a lot, especially when I come back after missions.”, she explained.

“It´s not only the sleep. The press-conference was tiring. Some journalist wanted to see the world burn, others treated me like I blew up that house, and then there is Schwarz- Damn I hate that guy.”, you sighted, hoping at once she hadn’t heard you. But of course, she did.

“Hold on. What are you talking about and who is Schwarz. Happy never mentioned anything.”

“Because I asked him not to.”, you groaned, “I didn’t want to bother you all with it and I thought I am able to deal with it on my own.”

“But why? And that still doesn’t explain who Schwarz is.”

“You wouldn’t need help of others, or Pepper.”, you mumbled ashamed, “And Schwarz is a journalist that doesn’t get the hint and thought he can woo me to give him intel.”

“First of all: Of course I need help of others, as does Pepper. And second: How doesn’t he get the hint?”, the Russian red-head almost growled.

“He keeps sending me flowers and asks me out for dinner whenever he can. No matter how often I decline he won´t stop. I just want to be like you.”

“For fucks sake (y/n)-“, she sighted,”- We will have a serious talk one day. And I will make damn sure that sucker gets the hint, maybe even Bucky will help, and then I will make sure your work-schedule gets lessened. None of us wants to see you work to death.”

Relieved (and knowing you wouldn’t have a say in this either way) you nodded, before eating your pizza in piece.   And just like the Assassin had promised (or threatened), the woman taught you to a few tricks and she and Bucky made sure you wouldn’t have to bother with the Journalist again. You had no idea how they did it, but the last thing you heard of him was an apology letter and that’s it. You didn’t mind though. Your work-schedule was remade and from that time on, FRIDAY was responsible to schedule Interviews and other dates and meetings, while you only had to step in front of the press, though now whenever one of the others had time, they would keep you company.

AN 2.0:

Haya whoever read this oneshot :) I hope you liked what I wrote for the Writingchallege and that I did the prompt justice. Let me know! (I am not sure if I did- but that’s it up to you)

As always feel free to reblog, comment and like it.

Taglists:

Permanent:

@jadepc@pacifyhxlsey​ @thankyoukarenclifford @thankyouforanonymity  @punkrockhufflefluff @scarletraine @ambrosialyn @elwenia@markusstraya

MCU:

  @yknott81@so-finster-die-nacht@caplansteverogers @emmii4 @banner-and-bucky-are-life @forext20

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Cats, Dogs, and Neighborhood Betting Pools pt. 2

AO3  Pt 1

“You seem happier,” Steve said, taking a massive bite of his massive sandwich.

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve been doing good.”

“So who’s the lucky fella?”

Bucky gently set his soda on the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really?”

“Definitely.”

“You realize in the last half hour since we got here you’ve mentioned this “Tony” and his cat at least twice every five minutes.”

Bucky slid his prosthetic across the table with a long raspy wail, and grabbed some chips. He proceeded to much on them. Loudly. Steve smirked at him and sucked at the dregs of his drink.

“He’s my neighbor. We run into each other a lot.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you haven’t been enabling his cat’s attempts to force your dog to be her personal slave.”

Bucky didn’t think about the cat door he had installed on the balcony. “Nope,” he replied.

Steve snorted.

“How’s Sam?” Bucky asked, his lips curving into a smirk as Steve blushed.

“The food here is really good, don’t you think?” Steve said, changing the subject. Bucky laughed and kept eating.

Mobile Readers, ‘ware the Read More

“You’re up to something,” Tony said. “I know it. This is all part of some devious plot to undermine my carefully crafted cynicism and loner-ness.”

Natasha purred and rubbed her face against Tony’s legs. He set a can of food on the counter and shuffled through his drawers, looking for a can opener. “I don’t even know how you’re getting out,” he continued. He found a can opener and turned back to the cat food. “The windows and door are all closed - and locked, so it’s not like he’s grabbing you every day in some devious plot to get me to visit.” He set the open can on the floor. Natasha dug in eagerly.

Tony stared at her. “For that matter, how are you getting into his apartment? I’d think he’d be all closed up too, by now.”

Natasha smacked him with her tail as she eagerly dug into her gourmet Salmon Surprise.

“Fine, be that way. See if I buy the fancy food next time I go to the pet store.”

Natasha turned and gave him big, imploring eyes.

“Oh, come on, now,” an amused voice said from the kitchen entryway. “You wouldn’t short a lady, now would you?”

Tony jumped, spinning in the air. “Rhodey!” he groaned. “How many times - don’t do that! I have a heart condition!”

“So you want him to be kidnapping your cat to get your attention?”

“What? Who? What are you talking about?” Tony asked. He grabbed the can opener and turned to rinse it off in the sink.

“The mysterious cat-napper. I should point out that ninety percent of your stories lately are significantly less wild than usual and also contain him.”

“He’s my neighbor, and I can’t figure out how Natasha is getting into his apartment! She’s tormenting his poor dog!”

“The dog should be honored. She only torments people she likes.” Rhodey leaned over and cooed as Natasha wandered over. Licking her lips, she stretched up and purred as he petted her ears.

“Why doesn’t she ever try to eat you? She tries to eat everyone else. Except Pepper, and that’s because they’re both evil masterminds.”

“Everyone else being Tiberius, and Obadiah, and Summer?” Rhodey asked, more knowingly that Tony cared to dwell on.

“And your point?”

Rhodey sighed. “Well, they were all dickbags. And she seems to like your neighbor well enough.”

“They weren’t that bad.”

“Your cat is a better judge of people than you.”

“I am a perfectly good judge of people.”

“Sure, Tony. Are we still on for lunch?”

“It’s Tuesday already? Well, I mean yeah, uh. I’ll get some pants.”

“I don’t know, the Jimmy Neutron boxers make a statement.”

“Jerk.”

“Don’t forget to lock your door!”

Tony groaned.

Bucky got home around three. He jiggled his keys in the lock until the door opened and stepped into his apartment, closing the door behind him. Kicking off his shoes, he immediately headed for the balcony.

Sure enough, there in Clint’s bed, Clint lay with a tiny (but mighty) cat perched happily on his back. Natasha purred in her sunny spot as Clint’s tail thumped the floor. James snapped a picture on his phone and sent it to Steve. He watched in delight as Natasha licked Clint’s ears a couple of times before primly leaping from her perch and approaching Bucky. She rubbed against his ankles, and he scritched her ears. He was pleasantly surprised that she didn’t maul him, though she didn’t allow the attention long before stalking back to curl up next to Clint.

“You are my favorite thing to come home to,” Bucky told her. Not only was it a cute overload, but it also meant Tony would be dropping by to find her later. And if Bucky was lucky, he could talk the brilliant young man into having coffee or watching a bad sci-fi with him. He eagerly set about his afternoon routine, cleaning up the space and making sure he had enough clean dishes. He tossed one large fluffy blanket on his old saggy couch and opened a window to air out the space. Since it was a day off, he also started a load of laundry and wiped down the tiny bathroom. He applied an extra layer of deodorant and waited.

Sure enough, at about seven a knock came at the door.

Bucky didn’t run to open the door, but it was a near thing. He opened the door with a wide grin. “Yes, your cat is here,” he said.

Tony gave him a sheepish grin, hands fluttering uncertainly in front of him. “I am so sorry, I swear my apartment is locked down like cat Fort Knox, I have no idea how she keeps getting out.”

“It’s not a problem. It’s kind of adorable, honestly.”

“My murder cat trying to eat your dog?”

“My dog falling over himself to let her,” Bucky laughed.

“Well, I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll just grab her and get out of your hair.”

“No worries. They seem pretty comfortable. I was just about to start dinner, if you want to join me?”

Tony blinked at him, just as surprised as he always was to be invited to stay. “I, um - can’t cook, at all. And I don’t want to intrude -”

“You’re not intruding,” Bucky replied. “I invited you. And anyone can make mac and cheese from the box.”

Tony mumbled something, looking at the floor.

“Did you just say you lit a box on fire once?” Bucky asked.

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“Well. You’re in charge of drinks, then.”

Tony sighed and came inside, apparently convinced that he was welcome. Bucky had noticed early in their unusual acquaintance that Tony always seemed to be waiting for Bucky to tell him to leave, or that he wasn’t wanted. Bucky usually had to ask him several times to come in. Tony never said he didn’t want to visit with Bucky - just that he was worried he was intruding on Bucky himself. Bucky had also noticed that Tony didn’t have many visitors. Not that he’d been paying attention. Or trying to get their schedules to match up. That would be pathetic.

So far, Bucky had seen two people visit Tony. A tall military man that seemed to be like Tony’s Steve had dropped by a few times. A tall redhead with murder heels and a wickedly sharp glint in her eye had visited once. Natasha had actually purred, which just made Bucky more afraid of the woman.

“Um, your pot is boiling over.”

Bucky quickly turned to blow on the boiling water, turning down the burner a little at the same time.

Tony was grinning at him. “Not sure you’re much better at this cooking thing than I am.”

“Well, as long as it’s edible, I’m not too worried.”

“Fair,” Tony said, handing over a tall glass. Bucky hadn’t even noticed him pouring the sparkling cider into the cups.

“There’s wine, if you’d prefer,” Bucky said.

Tony’s face clouded over. “I, ah. Don’t drink. Any. Anymore.”

Bucky nodded. “Works for me. Steve and Sam don’t drink either, though in Steve’s case it’s because he’s usually the designated driver.”

Tony relaxed at the easy acceptance. “That’s why the cider?”

“Yep. And I can’t afford good champagne, need something fizzy to celebrate with.”

Tony nodded like that made perfect sense and took a sip. Bucky watched his tongue flick out across his lips to swipe away the liquid.

“You should meet them sometime,” he blurted out.

Tony blinked. “Uh. Steve and Sam?”

“Yeah. They’re cool. Sam’s ex-military, Steve’s still in the army. Well. Sort of. He can’t give me may details.”

Tony shifted, biting his lip. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bug them or anything.”

“Completely sure. In fact - we’ve got lunch planned tomorrow. Want to come?”

“I have lunch plans with Pep and Rhodey,” Tony said.

“Bring them along! Might as well get everyone together. It’ll be a party.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tony said. His lips were curved into a soft smile, his eyes light. “Sounds like fun.”

Bucky grinned at him, his heart thudding in his chest and demanding that Bucky make him smile like that always.

He was so fucked.

“I thought we were going to the place on fifth?”

“We’re meeting some people,” Tony said.

Pepper and Rhodey exchanged a glance. “You know other people?” Rhodey asked.

“Shove off, honey bear.”

“Is it cat-napper?”

Tony almost tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.

“It is,” Pepper said, her face splitting into a smirk full of mischief. “Did you finally ask him out?”

“No, he just wanted to introduce me to his bros. You’ll like ‘em, Rhodes. One’s active duty and one’s a veteran.”

“What do they do?”

Tony shrugged. “They’re the classified types.”

“I’ll need to have a talk with this cat-napper.” Pepper tapped her heels a little more forcefully against the cement.

“Please don’t eat him.”

“I make no promises.”

Rhodey grinned and threw an arm over each of their shoulders. “This is going to be a mess. A glorious, glorious mess.”

~Era Penn

Buy me a coffee

[cosmosogler]

hi guys it is 10:46. i was busy until literally right now. rest in spaghetti, zero regretti. well, maybe some regretti.

anyway, nonsense aside, i woke up kinda late... i didn’t want to get up when my alarm went off. i went to bed kinda late last night due to my feelings adventure. 

i guess i had a dream where i was kind of struggling with gender and maybe the kind of family i would have wanted to have. i didn’t like being a boy at all as usual. looking at myself was like “nope. no good.” 

i can’t quiiite remember enough about the actual plot to say why it was about the family i would have wanted to have as a kid. i just have a strong feeling. and nothing to say about it. ha ha, joke’s on you! you don’t have to read five extra paragraphs.

anyway i lounged around at home for a long time. i had woken up at 8 but i didn’t leave for the department until 10:15 ish. i got there at 10:30 even though i had been riding my bike in a skirt and that was awkward. 

i was wearing shorts underneath so that wasn’t a problem, i just felt like something was going to snag on the wheel i guess.

i sat at my desk and worked until 11-ish when keegan showed up. he looked kinda weird today... not sure how to describe it. he collected most of us to head over to the homecoming parade. it was a “fun group activity” he had put a lot of effort into planning. by which i mean he asked in the groupme last night and soham was like “yes count me in” and then a couple others were all “yeah ok.” 

suzanne said it was friday and she was having a game night with her family so she’d have to work all day. i forgot it was friday. it feels like saturday part 1.

so we went to the parade! i had a lot of fun. we were there for like two hours though and when we finally got moving again to go back to the department my knees and ankles were stiff and swollen. 

turns out keegan wanted to go to the parade to see his girlfriend march and just didn’t want to go alone because that would be weird. we ran into his girlfriend’s parents there too. they seemed to like us a lot. they seem like very pleasant people.

when the fire brigade passed by i shouted “yeah, fire rescue!!!” and clapped and my classmates turned to stare at me. jennica had her hand over her mouth. 

“what?” i said.

“that sounded... REALLY sarcastic,” jennica finally said. 

so i did that every time something cool passed by. eventually they stopped flinching. after like seven instances.

also at one point during the conversation jennica got all up in my face and i kind of laughed unhappily and then harrison did it and i punched him in the face. i didn’t tolerate it any more.

not hard. but i told him i’d sock him for real next time. 

anyway after that soham and jennica and harrison and keegan and i went to the student union for some lunch. yannis (it is his nickname. it is pronounced the same way as his formal name.) went to get his backpack from home. then soham and jennica left when we got to the union even though soham was the one who wanted to go there. then keegan and harrison changed their minds but went inside with me. i was the only one who got food. i got a peanut butter smoothie.

then after that i got back to work! it was about 2:30. i got all the way through the classical homework except for the second half of the last problem. and i did a quantum problem, and i arranged to talk with adamya and suzanne about e&m later after we’ve spent some more time studying. adamya is an upper classman but he was helping suzanne out with grad e&m. 

i talked out a classical problem with suzanne that jennica actually figured out later. i had the right idea but couldn’t figure out the right combination of substitutions. jennica realized that the professor had replaced the mass in his equation with a derivative, which is... not... the usual thing to do? we couldn’t figure out why the professor did that in his solution. she kind of had to reverse engineer it. suzanne said that the solutions aren’t really solutions so much as using confusing unexplained techniques to get an answer very quickly. 

at... 6:40? i came home. i took out the trash and tried to cool off. it was almost 90 today all day. 

i was going to make dinner at 7:20 but gilbert wanted to talk about politics and despair a little bit so i didn’t cook anything until 7:45. i had wanted to make tempeh chili or maybe mac and cheese but i didn’t wash my dishes!!!!!!!!!!!! so i had to make one of my microwave meals.

i screwed around until 9:10 or so, after i usually check for comic updates. then i got to business. i dug up suzanne’s class notes, which we had finally gotten to me in a readable format, and caught up on the class stuff... one of the lectures was actually exactly what i had needed in the quantum problem i did today and i would have figured it out a lot faster if i had the notes beforehand haha. oh well. good to see it twice at least.

then i organized my schedule and identified 5 important urgent tasks i need to complete tomorrow and then a bunch of optional important ones i can knock out on sunday. i don’t anticipate having any time tomorrow for anything but the five things after i get my groceries and stuff. i’d like to wash my bedding but i don’t think that will happen unless i’m super quick about it first thing in the morning.

and then i made some notes on stuff i need to tell the psychiatrist when i see her on thursday. she wants to know basically my life story... so i tried to put everything i should talk about in order so i can give a coherent continuous story instead of jumping around as i think of things. it’ll be quicker and easier that way. i might have a little more time to study for the e&m test on friday.

i dropped everything on my to-do list that isn’t either completely necessary or something that the grad coordinator highly recommended i do as soon as possible. like revisit basic calculus and get a solid idea in my head of the purpose of each operation to make it easier to derive or inspect equations i need when i get confused during tests.

i also read and revised my notes in classical... i had to kind of bite the bullet and ask harrison for help on a really basic question. i understood it a lot better after i articulated to him exactly what it was i didn’t get about the concept. because when i just asked “what does this mean” he crossed out the like terms and looked at me like it was a fraction problem when it was not about fractions. when he described it as a matrix though i caught on pretty fast.

learning how different classmates describe concepts and figuring out who to go to for which help and how to ask each of them for that help is a long process.

so now it is 11:15, which is not obnoxiously late, but it is later than i’d like to continue staying up night after night. 

i think i’ve got a handle on tomorrow... it’ll be busy but i just gotta try not to screw around in the morning. i want to wash my bedsheets, and swim for a little bit, and make a solid breakfast, and then clean snoopy’s water bowl, and then get the groceries, and then put everything away and get over to campus maybe right after lunchtime to work on homework and studying. and hopefully a little grading... i’ve been avoiding it. it’s stressing me out. the lab reports are so heavy this time. they are twice as long as anything i’ve graded so far. i keep thinking if i start i’ll have to pull an all nighter... but really if i DON’T start i’ll have to pull an all nighter the night before my midterm. 

jennica said she was behind on grading though so maybe i will get some forgiveness if i don’t quite have it done this week. that will leave me with even more grading to do though and my quantum midterm is the week after next... 

no. gotta stay on top of it.

ok something positive about me. i did get all the way through my classical problem for the day, so i only have half a problem to do tomorrow instead of the whole 15-hour assignment. and i know how to do that problem! and i did a quantum problem, so that is on schedule. AND i even had the energy to study for an hour somewhere in there! and i had fun at the parade, which let me be outside for two and a half hours. i only got really tired and burnt out in the last 15 minutes we were there and when i asked to leave everyone agreed. so that was nice.

so i guess... the thing today was asking for help and getting it? between the parade and adamya and harrison i got a lot of things i wanted. and by things i mean “rest” and “questions answered.” as long as i hold on to the knowledge that it’s better to ask dumb questions you genuinely don’t get than to not ask them it might be easier to do that kind of thing every day instead of just when i feel kind of panicked. and friday was a way better time to ask a basic question than, like, monday night. 

oh and taylor asked how to log in to the classical solutions server and i cut in with an answer before soham. then i said “i got the fastest draw in the west soham there ain’t enough room in this chat for the both of us.” i got a couple likes for that.

i think... i think i did pretty good today. i also have to do good tomorrow. hopefully that will leave sunday and monday to be more cleanup days than cramming days.

[terselylove]

30 Ways To Stop Feeling Like A Lazy Piece Of Shit

1. What honestly worked for me was following the 5 second rule. Whenever you need to do something but don’t feel like it, immediately start counting down from 5 and once you get to one just start doing it. It sounds dumb but works. Realize that motivation is trash and you’ll never feel motivated, except to do things that feel easy. Look up Mel Robbins on YouTube. She explains it perfectly.

2. Set a schedule for yourself. Not one of those pussy ass pre written schedules, you write this one as you go. Wake up, write down what time. Whatever you do first, write it down: “9am-1pm: Played video games” “1pm-2pm: took shower and brushed teeth.” You get it.

Keep looking at your old “schedule” and improve upon it.

3. First step, don’t hate on yourself so much. You’re never going to realize your potential and worth if you put yourself down. It’s ok to have bad days. It’s ok to feel like shit. We all experience this and for the time and clime we live in, it’s fairly standard. Try and do a little bit better every day. Brush your teeth, floss, make your bed, do the dishes, stand when you eat instead of sitting, don’t take your phone to the toilet, drink water. The little things will snowball. Once you prove to yourself that you can take care of the little shit, the big shit just becomes groups of small shit.

4. Aim low.

Do the tiniest thing possible that will make you feel even the tiniest sense of accomplishment. Clean your room. If that’s too much, maybe just make your bed and that’s it. Get those little “wins”, and use them as momentum to build up to bigger tasks/accomplishments.

Forget getting that new job/getting ripped/asking the gorgeous person out. Start with making your bed.

5. Compartmentalize your tasks.

Do you have cleaning to do?

Make a check list and check off then items as you do them. It’ll feel like you’re getting more done.

6. I had to strop trying to tackle a huge TO DO list. Big lists are overwhelming to some people.

On days that I want/need to accomplish something (Like – at work), I make a list of THREE things I need to get done that day and get straight to those things before anything else. No Twitter, Reddit, Facebook, etc. Just get to those three tasks. I find I just keep going when those three things are done.

They don’t have to be monster tasks either. Break a monster task into a bunch of smaller tasks and get them done – even if spread over a few days.

7. The first step would be to find a therapist to help deal with the crippling depression that is causing that much self-hatred and low energy.

8. Just look up tons of motivational memes on Instagram. Nothing is more motivational than trust fund babies telling you to get out there and make your dreams come true.

9. Wake up at the same time every single day. Consistency is key.

10. Talk to someone. For real. Talk to a therapist or a doctor or someone. You don’t have to constantly feel like you’re trying to get through life in second gear. You’re not as lazy and useless as you think. Reach out if you need to vent to someone.

11. By getting over the mindset that you have to give everything 100% or not bother. If you can only give 10% today it’s better than nothing. I’d rather go to the gym for 20 minutes than none because I’m not up for an hour. I’d rather get at least the dishes done than nothing.

12. Break things into bite sized pieces. Start a timer for 10 min to start and see if you can get through that, after the alarm goes off it gives you motivation to keep going. Works for me when I feel like I can’t do anything. Start small, everyone can do 10 min! Good luck.

13. I make lists of little things to do in a day, bigger things to do in a week, etc. It helps.

14. Clean your room and maintain it as necessary. (Even little tasks like this make you feel more productive and better about yourself, plus it is nice to live in a clean environment.)

15. Stop calling yourself names and putting yourself down first of all.

The more you call yourself a lazy piece of shit the more likely you will be one.

16. Erase all social media.

17. Get out. I spent most of my summers in bed or on the couch watching TV due to my depression before I turned 18.

Once I turned 18, I got a summer job. I was out of the house for 7 or 8 hours of the day. I had friends or at least coworkers who pretended to like me, and that sometimes led to hangouts.

Even better, I applied to a second job and that has been amazing. I don’t get home until 6 or so, and go to bed by 10 (lots of sleep helps my mental health) and so it’s only 4 hours to pout or nope or anything.

18. Lazy piece of shit in what context? As an educator, I see many different types of students, and they all have so many wonderful things to offer other than just subscribing to a value of “usefulness” based on their ability to generate money/fulfil a societal contract of getting married, having kids, and making money.

I say that the most important thing is to just be you, and take time to reaffirm that it is okay to be you. You are already by default are going to be special and amazing in something, and you should just focus on that, and know that you are still growing.

A lot of my students are bogged down by the need to become a doctor, lawyer, w/e, when they know that it’s not right for them. I think the most important thing to do is to live “authentically” to yourself, and surround yourself with people who share you enthusiasm and viewpoint.

I think the most important thing is to learn that living authentically is good enough, and to tune out people who try to turn you into what they want for you, rather than what you want for yourself.

I had to go to therapy for months to learn this lesson, so know that you are good enough, and that you don’t have to do everything at once. One victory at a time.

Also, one way I now have an easier time making sense of negativity coming my way from other people is to remind yourself that those people probably have layers of trauma and shit they need to deal with as well, and one way for them to sort it (in an unhealthy way) is to project it and fling it on to people.

19. Find a hobby! Anything that you enjoy, just get out into the world.

Also, be kind to yourself, the more happiness you put in the world, the more you get out of it. That mindset has gotten me out of some pretty dark places.

Don’t be afraid to get out and meet people either, whether it’s in line at the grocery store, or a walk in the park. The more you get out, the higher chance of you meeting someone.

If you’re an introvert, pick up hiking! I grew up in a mountain town in Colorado, and when I was in high school, it was super hard for me to get outside. I didn’t like how I looked. I started to gain weight and my self confidence was nowhere to be found. Then one day I decided to get outside because I wanted to see a change in myself, and I found that hiking was really good for me. It cleared my mind and I was able to enjoy life one step at a time. After a couple of months I was seeing changes in me both mental and physical. It was really good for me! (Also when I was hiking I’d always have my dog with me and he’d make sure that we kept going for a long time)

I’m not saying that hiking is going to be what works for you, but I do encourage that you find something that clears your mind and that gets you in the right headspace.

Keep a good attitude as well! You’ll start noticing changes almost immediately! I wish you the best of luck, keep pushing forward! You got this!!

20. First of, cut yourself some slack. Everyone has peaks and valleys, and that is ok.

Second, one thing I learned from reddit was the act of “paying it forward” to yourself.

Say that you spend a lot of time in front of your computer, like me. Every time you get up to refill your water bottle, get a soda, go to the toilet, you do one extra thing. If the dishwasher needs emptying, empty it before going back to your computer. Next time you get up, you throw out the trash. Small victories will add up eventually, and those small victories are very important to me when struggling with depression or anxiety.

Healthy habits aren’t formed overnight. I still have far to go, but paying it forward to myself really helped me keep my life clean, physically and mentally.

21. Figure out what you want in life. Don’t focus on all the ways you can feel bad about yourself. (Negative people around you will, but ignore them.) Instead, focus on something positive you want to see happen, then orient your efforts around that.

Ultimately, if you try to use guilt to motivate yourself, it will work a little, but you just end up being dissatisfied because you resent yourself and see yourself as your own enemy. If instead you have some positive things to work toward, then you can see work as a good thing. Sure, work has unpleasant aspects (that’s why it’s called work), but they’re a lot easier to handle if you can relate it back to something you want.

For example, think about scrubbing the shower. One way of looking at it is to think, hmm, I only scrub the shower once a month at most, but what you’re supposed to do is scrub it every week, so damn it, I suck, why can’t I just get off my ass and do this basic thing that other, more responsible people do? Another way is to think, hey, I remember once how much nicer it was when I had that shower clean, I would walk into the bathroom and see that it was clean, and it was satisfying and maybe I felt in control, and I want that feeling again, and scrubbing the shower is how I’m going to get there.

One way you may be able to relate better to positive feelings about work is to think about a hobby where you put in a ton of effort but it doesn’t feel like work. For example, ever spent 10 hours plugging away getting better at a video game? It probably wasn’t an entirely pleasant process. Maybe you skipped a meal, your body or your eyes got tired, etc. But that didn’t stop you and you did all that because you wanted to beat that level or whatever. Your work lined up with a goal you set for yourself, so you had no problem doing that work.

22. Well, for one, don’t think of yourself as being useless. And start living not for yourself, but to benefit others. You will find that doing for others and the benefit that comes from that will invigorate you to do more. And you will also grow along the way and become a valuable asset to others.

Take pride in learning, growing, and find an outlet to express and utilize what you have learned. Stay around positive people, avoid negativity, and unplug from social media which can be a HUGE source of negativity.

23. Think about why you don’t do stuff.

You can’t fix it if you don’t acknowledge that it’s a problem.

Really try to assess why you don’t do blank.

Problem: I don’t brush my teeth in the morning when I don’t have time. So the fix is to give myself more time.

Solution: Go to bed an hour earlier and wake up an hour earlier.

Problem: I don’t clean house because it feels like it would be an enormous undertaking at this point because I’ve let it go for so long.

Solution: Every time I go to the bathroom, or when I’m in queue, pick up a few pieces of trash and throw them away.

Problem: I sleep the day away.

Solution: Think of any reason to get up early that is rewarding or I enjoy. (There is a place in town that sells these sweet golashes? But they are only open from like 0500 until 0900 so I wake up early just to get one of those and then play games for an hour or two before I do whatever I need/want to.)

Problem: I have a hard time getting up in the morning because sometimes I feel like life sucks.

Solution: Change my alarm to Circle of Life and when it goes off grab my cat and hold it off the edge of the bed, “ONE DAY ALL OF THIS WILL BE YOURS!!!!!”

Problem: I waste my day doing things I don’t enjoy just because the alternative is doing something productive and I just don’t wanna.

Solution: Narrate like I’m in Stanely Parable and just be fucking ridiculous, especially if I don’t feel like it, eventually I’ll really go over the top and laugh at how absolutely ridiculous it all is, I’m always smiling by the end.

Problem: I have a massive library of games and none of them seem like fun.

Solution: Pick a multiplayer game and spend time searching for and helping newbies.

Problem: I’m unhappy.

Solution: Try to make other people happy. If I’m miserable then doing shit for other people won’t make me more miserable and it’ll make them happy which in turn will make me happy.

Problem: I feel like my life sucks because I hate my job and getting out of bed in the morning is just too much. But I don’t want to quit because searching for a new job is scary and I don’t want to risk making my life worse.

Solution: Sorry hoss, just start looking for another job in your off time and when you get an interview and an offer ask if you can give two weeks, if yes then put in two weeks and then start your new job, if no start your new job. If your job makes you miserable and it isn’t wholly on you then fuck ’em.

24. Stand up, right now. Look down at your hands. Listen to your breath. Feel your heart pumping within you.

You’re alive, here on one of the few tiny scraps of rock in this vast universe where you’re possible – where anything like you is possible.

For three billion years, your ancestors have escaped meteorites and ice ages, volcanoes and floods, droughts and predators and viruses and fire and earthquake. They have seen the moon draw away and the Earth’s spinning slow, the continents cool and the atmosphere fill with water and oxygen.

Throughout all those long eons, those tiny mindless cells became fish and reptiles and then mammals. They cooperated, competed, killed, lived. They became humans, and through the long march of history they have survived the wars and pogroms, been heroes and villains. Thieves, saints, cannibals, doctors- every strategy and choice and lucky break is in you summarized and concentrated.

You are the last link in a chain forged across billions of years. You inherit a crown passed through untold generations of winners. You are impossible. You are a miracle.

Look around you. Look at the world we have made, full of knowledge distilled from painstaking examination and wisdom hard-won by a billion survivors and veterans and saints. Look at how far we have all come. Look at the people around you, all asleep to the greatness within them.

Close your hand, open it. You have so many choices. You can do so much. Your time is drawing to an end. Who will tell your story? What will they say?

You can pass the torch. You can stand in glory. I know you can. Because every atom within you has been present for countless victories. You wear a shape sculpted through countless trials. Your thoughts echo down the hallways of a mind designed to master the problems of this world.

You are the end of a billion journeys. You are the summit of a mount older than the stones. You are the victory. You are the reason. You are, and you shall be. Go now. Go forward, to shape the wonders and tales of the world that will follow you. Add a brick to the monument of civilization. Honor the web of life that has made you. Bring life and love into a world that has offered the same to you.

Your time is here. Your victory comes soon. Go.

25. Do things badly!

Anything worth doing is worth doing badly. Let go of that voice in your head that says that if you start something you need to finish it. (I bet it sounds like your mother) Let go of your perfectionism.

Wash one dish! Put your dirty clothes in a hamper! Go to the gym and walk on the treadmill for five minutes! Open a word document and write one run-on sentence of that novel you’ve been meaning to write for years! Inertia effects motivation the same way it does objects — once you are up and moving it will be easier. Tomorrow you might be able to wash two dishes, walk for ten minutes, do a load of laundry, write three sentences of that novel — but if you can’t, don’t beat yourself up about it! Let yourself feel good for accomplishing what you could. Set small, achievable, even ridiculous goals and once you get used to reaching those on the regular, up them. Bit by bit, you will see progress.

26. Depends on what is causing you to be a “lazy useless piece of shit”.

Sometimes that’s caused by an absolute lack of motivation, which can in turn be caused by depression, dysthymia or a restrictive environment that won’t let you even look for your calling. In this case therapy is the best fix, and medication ia useful tool.

Sometimes that happens because your anxiety pushes you towards avoidance through paralyzation and you don’t even realize. In that case, therapy and medication.

Sometimes you’re like that because, frankly, you really enjoy it, and the real problem is the people around you making you believe it is wrong to live your life that way even if it is functional to you.

Maybe you just were never taught how to be proactive and you require to modify your personality.

Or maybe you are self-sabotaging due to a system of dysfunctional beliefs.

Maybe you’re not “lazy”, but actually tired. Maybe you aren’t eating well enough, or not drinking enough water, or you have restless sleep due to stress, anxiety or something else, and you really are tired.

Or maybe you really mentally tired and really do need the rest.

Step one would be fidning out why you are a “lazy, useless piece of shit”.

27. Practice being productive every single day. Recognize that motivation is fleeting, but discipline persists.

28. Things seem overwhelming if you’ve let them build up and avoided them for a while. Responsibilities like chores and a job are bills you eventually have pay to yourself in the form of labor. You can’t fix it all in one day, it takes time. I was where you were for a long, long time. Feeling like I was worthless, lazy, etc. Take it a step at a time.

29. I recently joined a gym, but I needed some kind of motivation to actually go, so I told myself, “there’s a B-Dubs nearby, if you go to the gym you can go get some buffalo wings right afterwards”.

30. Positive reinforcement my dude.

Take pride and feel good about the good choices you make.

Don’t criticize or condemn the bad decisions. Bad decisions help you learn and make better decisions in the future!

[philosophical-oatmeal-blog]

The Story of Us: Is it over or has it just begun?

It was 2011. I was 14 years old and he, being a year younger than me, was only 13. When I first saw him, he was just a regular boy and I barely gave him a second glance. My best friend though...she had a thing for him. We used to hang out once a week at our local roller rink and he would be there with his friends every week. It took us forever just to learn his first name (I don’t even remember how we got it). We never even spoke a word to him. We would occasionally exchange awkward eye contact, but we would never speak.

After a few months, summer came and he stopped showing up. My friend and I moved to the Friday night sessions because the ones we went to before became way too busy for us. Plus, on Fridays they actually play music that we like. Then, to our surprise, he started showing up on Friday nights, too. On one particularly warm night, barely anyone showed up to the session except for him and his friends who were all around our age. My friend was saying how he looked extra cute tonight. At one point, it was just her and I on the floor and we were just speed skating and enjoying being the only ones skating. After a few minutes she nudged me and we saw that he came out onto the floor with us. He kept looking at us and would speed past us looking super cute. I decided to mess with him and kind of race him. We raced around the rink for a few songs until he got off the floor and I slowed to get back with my friend. She was giving me this little smile and teased me. I ended up opening up to her later that night asking if she still liked him and she said no. I took this opportunity to admit-to myself and her-that I think I actually liked him. She, to my surprise, said that she already knew that and was waiting for me to admit it.

From then onto the next 2-ish years, him and I barely spoke and would just exchange glances and catch each other staring. Sometimes he would be sitting in the DJ Booth when we went to request a song and talk to the DJ and he would join into our conversation, but I was always too shy to really speak to him. I always had a sense that maybe he did like me back, but anyone I talked to denied it. He then started to disappear from skating and would occasionally make an appearance.

Moving onto 2014, I connected with my inner nerd and started watching Doctor Who. One Friday night, I wore a Doctor Who shirt to skating and he happened to be there. He made a comment to me about my shirt and we talked a little about it, but not too much. He had a habit where he would come up to me, start a conversation, then would skate away really fast. It was very confusing at first. Tonight he pulled that with my shirt, but we were used to it. Later on, we were sitting in the snack bar when he rolled in and came over to our table. He motioned for my friend to scoot over and sat down next to her. He literally just sat and talked to mainly me for almost the entire night. My friend made the comment to us that we were almost the same person and he smiled and looked down. It was really cute. 

After that he became sketchy in showing up to skating. When he would, we would kind of talk, but it was never too much. He also always brought girls with him and it drove me nuts. My friend and I had petty nicknames for each of his girlfriends he brought skating. We were teenage girls, what else were we to do?

Soon enough he stopped showing up altogether. At first I was sad when he was a no-show, but after a while I got used to it. I slowly just forgot about him, but whenever he was brought up, my heart would skip a beat. I was always teased that I was obsessed with him. Every once in a while he would show up, but it slowly became less and less until we basically never saw him again. I started to lose all feelings for him and I learned to move on. 

A year after I graduated high school, I started a job at a fast food restaurant. Around the same time, a friend of mine who was a year younger was having her graduation party. When I was scrolling through who was invited, I saw his name. He had RSVP’d as ‘Going.’ My heart skipped a beat and I started creeping on his profile just to confirm it was him. Then, I took a deep breath, and requested him to be my friend. He ended up accepting, and after a creeping session or two (again, I am a teenage girl) I actually forgot about it. I wanted to go to my friend’s graduation party, but when it started I was just getting off of work, and I was too gross and exhausted to go. One of my best friends ended up going though and she actually talked to him. He told her that he was going to our local university for the same field that I am already in. I was super excited because even though my feelings had faded, I assumed that we would still be friends and could reconnect. 

Again, I forgot about him after that and if he would come to my mind, I thought about how I will see him at school. My friends then informed me that every guy that I would talk to or have a crush on resembled him. That I was basically just searching for him. After that, my mind was blown and I thought about every guy who caught my eye. They weren’t lying, either. It was true and that made me both happy and sad.

One night when I was on Facebook, I found a picture of a quote that touched my heart. It was basically saying that those who are meant to be will come back no matter how far they wander. I was thinking about one of my best guy friends when I posted it because we had lost touch over summer. I was worried that maybe if we weren’t in class together the coming semester, we wouldn’t be friends anymore and it made me sad.

The next night, I was working the back window at my job. I occasionally would see some people I knew pass through, but there was one person I never expected to see. Him. When he pulled up to my window to pay, we just held eye contact for about a minute. Then he paid for his food and asked how I was doing. I was in shock and quietly said I was doing good. We then just stared at each other for a few more seconds before he pulled away. I started freaking out and ran over to my coworker saying how I have not seen this kid in around 6 years. I snuck into the break room and texted my friends that he came through. My heart just kept racing. He was the last person I expected to see.

When I got off, I looked at my phone and saw that he messaged me on Facebook saying hey and that we should hang out and catch up some time. He also went and liked the photo that I coincidentally posted the night before. I messaged him back agreeing that we should catch up and apologizing for not talking because I was surprised and not sure if he remembered me. From then on we kept messaging each other catching up a little and explaining where we were both at in life. He was afraid for his freshman year and I offered to help being as I was going to be a sophomore. He was more than happy about that. All of my feelings for him had faded over the years, and I began to really view him as an old friend.

The first day of school I had a really long break with nothing to really do so I sat in the lounge and messaged him. All of a sudden, he came down and sat with me and we talked for around 2 hours, just catching up and I was helping him figure out his schedule and such. He was then torn away from me when he had to go to class. I still had an hour before my class, and when I went to talk with my friends while waiting, he was standing across the hall with his friends and just stared at me the entire time. He looked like a lost child and it was just so cute.

A couple weeks later, he messaged me asking if I wanted to get coffee with him after his classes were over. After freaking out to my best friends, I told him I would love to. We then met up and went to get coffee across campus. While walking, he admitted to me that one of the times he came to talk to me he was going to ask me on a date, but things got really awkward so he couldn’t do it. I was astounded. Also, did he just admit that he liked me?! After we got our coffee, we went back to our building lounge and just sat and talked. We were both really awkward people so there was just a lot of nervous tension between us. He started telling me jokes, and literally used a knock knock joke to ask me on a date. Again, I was completely shocked and said yes! We then talked about it and admitted that we had liked each other way back when. It became a joke between us that it only took him 6 years to ask me on a date.

We exchanged numbers and sadly we both had to leave. I texted my best friend and told her that we had to immediately hang out without giving her any information about what had happened. When I told her, she was so happy for us that we finally got together. 

When our date came around, we were both super nervous. He was shaking and I felt nauseous. I even threw up the night before when I was thinking about it. He was just confessing how much he liked me when I felt my broccoli pasta turn on me. I kept swallowing and drinking my iced tea hoping it would calm down....nope! I let out this loud belch and he instantly got awkward. I was blushing and told him I felt like I was going to throw up so I ran to the bathroom. I didn’t, but I ended up just standing there trying to get my bearings before I faced him again. When I went back out there I explained that I was just really nervous and he was cool with it. He then ended up popping the big girlfriend question to me. Of course, I said yes because I did still like him. Only took 6 years.

We then became the couple to be. Everyone gushed about how cute we were and how well we fit together. He always talked about how when he saw me in the drive-thru, all the feelings came back and hit him like a semi-truck. He wasn’t even out of the parking lot when he messaged me on Facebook that night.

We were literally just perfect together. We were both awkward little nerds, and we were essentially the same person. His parents and friends even told him that they have never seen him so happy in so long. We both had plans to be together for a long time. He basically told me that he loved me and wanted to marry me before we were together for a month. He essentially became literally my best friend. We saw each other everyday at school, then if I worked, he visited me. If he worked, I visited him and we would hang out after he got off. If he were both off, we were at his house watching movies and doing my geology homework which I constantly procrastinated until the due date (I hated that class). 

My best friend, him, and I became like our own little group. We had a group chat on Facebook, we would all meet up and hang out at my friend’s house, his house, or we would get coffee or food together. We joked that we were like a romantic comedy couple and that’s how we were.

After a little over a month, things...changed. He..changed. He became more angry, short, and kind of just stopped asking me to hang out. He then started having plans on our weekly date night, and played stupid when I was angry about it. Then, it turned into him basically getting rid of me as soon as possible when we did go out. He literally ran a red light because he was angry that it was taking forever. When he kissed me that night, it seemed like something he was forced to do, rather than want to do

I thought I was going crazy. I cried a lot, thinking he did not want me anymore, then thinking I was just overreacting. He was having a bad week. We were fine. The next day proved me wrong.

I ran into him in the hallway and he seemed really nervous about it. While he was talking to me, he walked past me like he didn’t want to see me. When I followed him, I asked if he wanted to hangout after my classes before we both worked. He lied to me and made up an excuse that a family member was in the hospital. When we parted, he hugged me. That’s when I knew something was wrong. He never just hugs me. He has always given me a kiss before we part. Always. 

A couple days later is when it all went down. His texting was down to only one word, he wasn’t interested in anything we talked about, and he expressed no feelings whatsoever. When I said I was on my way to visit him at work, he only replied with ‘K’ and I tried to ignore it as I drove.

When I got there, he was completely shut down towards me. After about a half hour, he told me to walk outside with him. When we got out there he told me that he didn’t like me like he thought he did. He was just remembering how he felt when we were younger and it wasn’t true feelings. He apologized and waited for me to say something to him. I was at a complete loss for words. I felt numb, and couldn’t cry or anything. His last words were to go see my best friend because I need her. I just slowly walked to my car and called her. When I got to her house she was waiting for me and we talked it out. He actually messaged her on Facebook telling her that he broke up with me and to make sure I am okay.

I was pissed off for about 2 weeks after that. I wasn’t really sad, except when I had to change all his names in my phone and all. I was glad it had happened. It was 6 years in the making, and that made me happy. Like I could truly get over him now. Plus, the next day, he was a complete mess and my college friends treated him like sh*t when he tried to be friends with them.

This happened at the end of October 2016. When he saw me in the halls after a while, he would actually talk to me a little bit as if we were still friends. Of course it was only on his terms. If I was friendly, he would ignore me. 

Fast forward to now, we are currently in the same class together and we are actually talking and being friends. He brought up my best friend to me, and we talked about work. He also mentioned a coworker that he introduced me to when we were dating. I am currently letting it happen because I would still like to be friends. We have known each other for 6 years and dated for a little over a month. Is everything else going to go to waste?

Even though I am over him, I still wonder if we are really over. I’m not holding onto any false hopes that we will get back together, but being as we disconnected for how many years then found each other again, I can’t help but think about it. 

They say if you love someone, let them go. If it’s meant to be they will always find their way back to you. Let’s just hope it doesn’t take another 6 years.