#gotta keep this newspaper updated yes?

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Nanny Pt. 1

Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader

18+ 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, Sandy and Carl being bad parents, 18+ content in later chapters 

Summary:

Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.

A/N: Here is the first part of my newest series and I want to thank the anon who reached out to me with this idea! 

If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know!

Taglist Form is in my bio and should be updated to now to include this fic! (If for some reason it isn’t working send me a message and I’ll make sure you’re added!!)

“Damn it, Sandy, can’t you handle that?” Carl yells from his dark room as the baby starts crying again.

“Fuck you, Carl,” Sandy shouts back, hurrying to put out her cigarette before heading to the nursery.

Their little girl was just about a year old, and neither one of them knew what they were doing. Carl was incredibly indifferent and despite her honest attempts at motherhood, Sandy’s maternal instincts never kicked in like she thought it would happen. Carl was annoyed that it cut into their time they would be on trips. They weren’t able to photograph models with the baby on the road, so he’d been itching to get back on the road.

“Is she hungry?” he shouts back, not even bothering to take his eyes off of the most recent photographs he had been developing.

“I just fed her!”

“Then why is she crying?”

“Fuck if I know,” Sandy shouts back exasperated. She scooped up the baby from her crib and started to rock her back and forth in her arms. Sandy also tried burping her, humming a little lullaby she made up on the fly… no luck. She walks around the house with the baby on her hip, trying to rock her back to sleep.

“We haven’t able to get back on the road in a year,” Carl says, clearly frustrated.

“That ain’t purely my fault,” she spits back, “Takes two to make a baby, Carl.”

“Fuck I know,” he groans, “But I need new inspiration. If I take one more picture of nature…”

“If she’s such a hindrance, pay for a damn sitter like I suggested months ago,” she counters.

“We can’t have no stranger walking around the house Sandy,” he points out.

“Just keep your damn room locked, it’s not a huge deal,” Sandy sighs. “Besides, no one is gonna snoop around if you pay ‘em enough. You damn well produce your own incriminating evidence; you should always have that room locked anyways.”

“We only have to worry about your damn brother,” Carl points out, “We hire a fucking sitter that’s two people we need to worry about.”

“You’re just to goddamn cheap to hire somebody,” Sandy states, moving back towards the nursery, the baby now snoring softly.

“You know what? Fine,” Carl says defeated. “But you’re in charge of putting the ad out and hiring somebody.”

“Thank you,” she says in a sing song tone, happy she got her way. But the moment of quiet that follows is short lived as they baby starts crying again.

“Please for the love of God can you just take care of that?” Carl yells, and the argument circles back to the beginning.

You had sat in the small dinner in the corner booth hunched over the newspaper and nursing your now cold cup of coffee. You had just arrived in Knockemstiff and were looking for work. “Any leads?” Julie asked as she topped off your coffee. Julie was your roommate. You had found her the same way you were currently looking for a job. You must have answered at least ten terrible Roommate Wanted ads until you had found Julie. The two of you now share an apartment- the top floor of a three-family owned by a sweet older couple.

“Thank you,” you say without looking up from scanning the ads. “Maybe this one?” You say pointing to one of the ads. She looks to see her manager stepped out for his smoke break before sliding in the booth across from you. You slide the paper over to her and she reads the ad out loud.

NANNY NEEDED Knockemstiff, Ohio

Couple that travels for work in need of a nanny for one-year-old daughter.

Temporary live-in position for several weeks at a time. Pay negotiable.

Call Sandy Henderson at the below number.

“I can sublet the room temporarily while you stay there,” Julie offers. “It’s a pretty vague offer,” she continues. “I wouldn’t commit until you call and speak to that Sandy woman.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll need to be interviewed,” you agree. “What kind of people are comfortable just leaving their baby for weeks at a time with a perfect stranger?”

“Paul is still out back I think,” she chuckles, “I’ll let you use the wall phone.”

You take a seat at one of the stools at the counter, and she dials the number for you and then passes you the receiver. You mouth a thank you and she waves her hand in dismissal as she heads over to take someone’s order.

“Whaddya want?” the woman on the other end answers abruptly.

“Oh, I’m calling about the ad in the paper regarding the nanny position. Is it still available?”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, hun,” the woman says, now in a much nicer tone. “Thought it was my brother calling. Yes, it is, and we need it filled as soon as possible. When are you available?”

“For an interview?” You ask.

“Yeah,” she says mumbled, like she is dangling a cigarette from her mouth. “Can you come today?”

“Oh, wow. Yes, I can,” you reply.

“Great, um, you got a pen? Take down this address.”

About two hours, a change of clothes and a cab ride later, you were standing outside a house towards the end of town. It was a little run down, but what building in this town wasn’t? You were a little nervous of course, but it was also the most unconventional way you have gotten an interview. Part of you was relieved, because the woman on the phone sounded real, not phony, but the circumstances still made you uneasy. Julie had the address and said you’d call when you got back to the taxi dispatch.

“Welcome, welcome,” Sandy smiled, opening up the door for you. She had one hand on the doorknob and one of the cutest babies you’d ever seen in the other. “Come on in, make yourself comfortable.”

“Who is this?” you coo, leaning down to the baby’s eye level. “She’s darling.”

“This little sweetheart is Valerie,” Sandy smiles, passing the baby to you. “She’s so well-behaved. Hardly ever cries.”

“She’s adorable,” you smile, as the baby cuddles up close, resting her head on your shoulder. “I didn’t properly introduce myself on the phone. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“I’m Sandy,” she introduces herself. “Please take a seat on the couch, get comfortable. I hate things that are so formal. Bleh.”

You take a seat on the couch, and readjust the little girl in your arms so she’s sitting on your lap and her back is resting against you so she is supported.

“So, my husband and I are on the road a lot, usually,” she begins, “We took some time off when we had Valerie, but we really need to start working again, you understand.”

“Of course, what do you both do?” you ask politely.

“We’re photographers,” she beams, “Mostly nature and landmarks- which reminds me! We have a darkroom in the house, but that door will be locked when you’re staying here. We don’t want any damage to any of the negatives we have stored in there you understand. Everywhere else in the house is yours to explore! And of course we gotta spare bedroom you can call your own.”

“Fair enough,” you joke.

“So, tell me about yourself, honey,” she smiles, crossing her legs in the armchair where she sat.

“Well, I just moved here a few weeks ago actually,” you begin, “I just recently finished school, and now I’m looking for work. I just got my degree in early childcare from the state college.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she says with a clap of her hands. “So, you’re local?”

“Yes, I live in town.”

“Excellent! We’d also love for this to be like an on-call thing as well, you know for date nights and things like that for times when we’re home. Like for a few hours here and there. And of course, we’ll always live money for groceries or whatever you need on top of your pay for emergencies incase Valerie needs formula or diapers or anything.”

“Perfect,” you smile, surprised how well the conversation was going. Sandy was easy-going and nice to talk to. The two of you sat and talked for a little under an hour, her asking all the standard questions you anticipated. You also were able to ask her some more of your own questions as well. It was the most effortless interview you had been on easily.

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to meet Carl today,” she says when she is showing you out. “But hun, I feel confident to offer you the job. We haven’t had many applicants and you’re the most qualified one I’ve spoken to. The job is yours if you want it?”

“When can I start?” you smile, making her laugh.

“Your number is on the resume, right?” she says, scooping up the baby. You nod, waving goodbye to the baby and then saying goodbye to Sandy.

“I’ll call you when I speak to Carl, but I think once he knows he’ll want to head out as soon as we can. Plan for Sunday,” she says as you get into the cab.

Just like she had promised, you get a call from Sandy on Saturday afternoon asking you to show up the next morning at 9. You spend the day packing up your clothes and anything else you’d need for a few weeks. Sandy said they’d be back in two weeks but you pack for three just in case. Julie was also nice enough to help you. You didn’t need to do much. Ever since you had settled in Knockemstiff, you had been pretty lazy with unpacking and for once procrastination played out in your favor.

Julie insisted on taking you out to celebrate that night before starting your job tomorrow. There was a small little bar, a little shack of a place just on the outside of town you went to. Julie had a car and you drove, anticipating she’d have a lot more to drink than you. It was a hotter summer night, so you drove with the windows down and the radio playing a little louder than you normally would.

The outside was decorated with string lights of primary colors and the wooden awning looked like it was one more storm away from collapsing. But the atmosphere inside was to die for. The jukebox was playing loud dance music, and the place was crowded. Empty recycled glasses lined the walls on a high shelf as decoration along with weathered posters of anything Americana. A row of motorcycles and trucks were parked outside the little place and it looked like a pileup from how crowded the lot was. People lingered outside as well, and you both hoped you’d find seats inside.

The two of you found a high-top table and Julie made her way up to the bar, skillfully maneuvering through the crowd to grab you both some drinks. You let your eyes wandering, surveying the room and just people watching. Couples were dancing closely to the music that was rattling the jukebox, and a group of people were sitting at the bar huddles in to watch the little black and white portable television. You also noticed a group of men in uniform several tables down, local police. They weren’t paying any attention to anyone but their own conversation, except one.

He just so happened to have looked up just as your eyes landed on their table. Steel blue eyes cutting across everything and just staring right back into yours. It was a fraction of a second and his gaze was broken by Julie taking her seat across from you. You cleared your throat, and finally allowed yourself to exhale. You felt her raise an eyebrow at you but she didn’t press, just gave you a knowing smirk you brushed off. You still felt his gaze on you even if your view was now obstructed.

Sandy and Carl were in a rush when you arrived in the morning. Sandy ran you through the details of where everything was kept and told you that she would call to check in when she could when they made stopped. She helped you carry your bags in from the trunk of the taxi while Carl packed their bags in their car. He was polite enough, but you felt in your gut to just keep your distance. Sandy led you upstairs to the guest room she told you she worked to clean out for you. It was simple, a bed and a dresser with a small closet. She said it mostly had been storage and her weekend project had been clearing it out for you. It was simple, but good enough for you for sure. You thanked her and she dismissed it saying you were the one doing her a favor, making you laugh.

The whole ordeal was very hurried. Carl was rushing to get on the road as soon as possible and you could tell he was clearly irritated at how long Sandy was taking showing you around and explaining things about Valerie. Carrying the baby in your arms, you finally were settled in to your new role and Sandy gave one more big hug and a kiss on Valerie’s head before rushing down to the car. You waved to the pair of them from the small front porch, Sandy looking back and waving to the baby from the passenger seat until they were out of your line of vision.

The first day was a little daunting. New space, living in a house that isn’t yours and a baby babbling in your arms. She was a sweet thing, and she already had taken a liking to you. Heading over to her nursery, you saw that she had a little play pen folded up in the corner of the nursery and you quickly set it up in your room so you could unpack while keeping an eye on her. She babbled just happy utter nonsense to you while you navigated around the space and her big eyes just followed you, just watching you was entertaining for her for now. You were a new face and she was entertained just by that for now.

A few hours later, Valerie had settled down for a nap in the early afternoon. She was sleeping soundly in her crib and you were getting formula ready for when she woke up. It was quiet, the only noise in the house was the small sounds of your own rustling in the kitchen. You wondered when you would hear from Sandy, if it would be later tonight or in a couple of days. You just were lost in your own thoughts when you were startled by a loud knocking on the door. Instantly, Valerie began to cry. You wiped your hands quickly on the skirt of your dress before grabbing her. You rested her on your hip and rocked her gently, shushing her to calm down while you went to grab the door.

The first thing your eyes saw were the same blue eyes who was looking at you at the bar last night. The man’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked really confused. He had one hand rested on his hip and the other against the doorframe, but he stood up straight when he saw it wasn’t who he expected. Your eyes then went down to the shiny Sheriff’s Badge fixed in place on his uniform.

“Who are you?” he asks abruptly. “Where’s Sandy?”

“Sandy and Carl left this morning,” you explain, not sure if he recognizes you. “I’m their nanny.”

He laughs and shakes his head as he looks down, almost like he doesn’t believe you, or he just doesn’t believe the situation. “Carl? Carl Henderson hired a nanny?” he scoffs and you nod, holding Valerie a little closer. The little girl rubs her eyes and yawns, when her eyes flutter open, she looks at the stranger in the doorway and immediately reaches out to signal she wants to be held by him. You ignore her resistance to wanting to be in your arms until you get more information about why the Sheriff is at their doorstep, though she obviously knows him.

“I’m Sandy’s brother,” he explains, “Did she say when they were coming back?” He doesn’t try to hold the baby yet, just holds out one of his fingers and her little hand holds onto it tightly.

“Two weeks.”

“They hire a complete stranger to watch my niece and live in their house unsupervised while they drive around?” he scoffs, shaking his head again in disbelief.

“I’m more than qualified…”

“It’s not a jab at you, sweetheart,” the man tries to explain, “More so a reflection on my sister and her husband is all. They are… fairly selfish people and I wished this situation surprises me more than it does.”

“Should I tell her you came by when she calls?” you ask.

“If she calls,” the man chuckles, “Sure, let her know Lee stopped by to visit.”

“You don’t think she will?” you ask, tilting your head.

“We’ll see,” Lee shrugs, “Do I know you from somewhere?” He rests his arm back up on the doorframe and looks down to the baby again, extending out his free hand to her again and scrunching her cheeks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, not wanting to admit you remembered seeing him last night. He purses his lips together and nods, not pressing further. He pushes off from the doorframe and puts his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Must’ve been in a dream then,” he smirks, and you feel your cheeks flush. He walks down the steps and back towards his cop car. “What did you say your name was?” he asks, turning back around.

“I didn’t,” you chuckle.

“Hmm,” he nods, and raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to fill in the blank. You tell him your name and he repeats it back to you like he’s thinking about it, trying it out to see how it sounds.

“Well,” he says, standing behind the open driver’s door, “Good luck, and I hope Sandy proves me wrong. Let me know if she calls.”

Taglist: 

@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro​ 

[newscasterchange]

Hagakure: Hey guys! Tōru here and today I have another special guest with me today! Hanta Sero!

Sero: Your Latin king here and I gotta say. Nice setup, Hagakure.

Hagakure: Oh please. I just had our boss plan it out. Speaking of our boss. She sadly got her heart broken again.

Sero: Now she locked herself inside of her office again.

Hagakure: You didn't have to put her out like that, but yes.

Sero: For the guys that don't know about it here's what happened. So a few weeks ago there was childhood anons going into everyone's inbox. One of these was Bob the builder. Wow how long has it been since-

Hagakure: Sero get back on the topic. I expected that from Kamninari not you.

Sero: Hey whatever happened to-

Hagakure: I'm taking over. Anyways. This Bob the builder was in our boss's inbox. Now a few days ago @notfiveweenieskids went onto @blackweebtrash page and confessed that she was the Bob the builder anon. Reasonably, everyone was upset with her. But she then confirmed that @angiebug101 also knew it was her. Go ahead, Sero.

Sero: Thank you. So, our boss didn't take this well at all and she was just warming up to Angie as well, such a shame. The reason I said that is because our boss was the main one getting the anons and roasting the f**k out of 'em

Hagakure: Now I gotta bleep that out.

Sero: Eh. Ms.Nova felt betrayed and broken because Ms.Angie here didn't want to tell anyone and allow our boss and everyone else to get those nasty f**king anons.

Hagakure: Angie knew because Quincy wasn't on anon when sending her a nasty Bob the builder message. But despite her knowing this she decided to keep quiet.

Sero: That's just messed up. Now I see why @mypimpademia don't want our boss near her. But on the bright side at least she'll be out during the court date and funeral.

Hagakure: That being said we reach our next topic. I'm pretty sure most of you just read the newspaper but in case you didn't here's what's happening. On Sunday there's going to be a trail for Angie and Quincy. If they are found guilty-

Sero: You mean "when" they are found guilty.

Hagakure: …If found guilty there's going to be a huge funeral. But not just any funeral. A fashion show. There's gonna be a runway and fashion designer from all over the world coming. During this event each person is going to be called up to show their outfit and then the judges will rate them. Even Angie and Quincy will be getting judged.

Sero: I feel bad for whoever's moving their casket. Judges of the show are: @mixfi @silkylious @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia .

Hagakure: The highest numbers you can get is a 20. The lowest being 0. Now even if the girls aren't found guilty the fashion show will still happened they're just not going to be able to walk the catwalk and sit all the way in the back in plain black clothes. Nothing special and would you look at the time! It's time for you to go back to your job as a detective.

Sero: D*mn time goes by fast.

Hagakure: 'I'ma tell Ayama to come back here next time. Sero too much.' Thank you guys for tuning in with us. Make sure you turn the notifications on so you get the latest update of my podcast. Until next time!

Hagakure & Sero: Heroes out!

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Summon Away | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

The day has come! I am finally writing an update on the fifteenth and final chapter of Moth Work, which I wrote about a month ago! 

Summon Away is probably the shortest in the book at just over 1800 words, and also one of my faves because it’s so?? tender?? I wrote it in one sitting and couldn’t have asked for a better end to this book. Here’s a scene breakdown:

Scene A:

Harrison sees Lonan for a soft moment early in the morning, free of the stress of Eliza lmaooo. They have a super tender moment, however there’s this strange tension to the point where we know something isn’t exactly right.

Harrison moves the scene along by saying he’s going to grab a pack of cigarettes from a gas station down the road. From the context, we can probably tell this is true, except he ain’t coming back. Probably the most sweepingly dramatic moment I’ve ever written and I’m here for it loool. This is my soap opera moment where Harrison essentially leaves Lonan to have his new relationship with Eliza, despite his concern, because he’s gotta make a decision that’s healthiest for him and that’s called character development folks!!

Did I break my own heart breaking up my OTP :) yes!!!

Scene B:

This is a really short half scene where Harrison locates his mother who doesn't live far from Eliza’s apartment.

Scene C:

Harrison and his mother sit outside on her balcony and he reflects on his decision to split (literally a trend that all my Fostered characters are yeeting away from each other oops) while watching people below engage in some form of a relationship with one another. So much drama!!

The chapter gets its title from a Nothing But Thieves song (why would it not at this point), Tempt You (Evocatio). I was struggling to title this chapter because I needed something that fit the vibe, and had actually tried to use the concept of an evocation to title a chapter for this book previously to no avail. However, after revisiting the Wikipedia article for an evocation, I came across the definition of “summon away”:

The Latin word evocatio was the "caIIing forth" or "summoning away" of a city's tutelary deity. The rituaI was conducted in a miIitary setting either as a threat during a siege or as a result of surrender, and aimed at diverting the god's favor from the opposing city to the Roman side, customariIy with a promise of a better-endowed cuIt or a more Iavish Tempie.

I thought this concept of “summoning away” sounded slightly contradictory (the word summon brings images of a coming forth of some sorts, while the word away sounds like the opposite at least to me am I making this more *metaphorical* than it is perhaps) and I really thought the chapter strangely fit the above definition, hence my choosing!

Excerpts:

This is kind of torture because I dearly miss writing the boys interacting as they’re not with each other in Feeding Habits the angstttt:

“What is that?” Harrison asks, pulling back a barstool with one hand, while pointing at the mug with another.

Lonan glances up, and the two mutually analyze each other. Lonan’s puckered skin, how morning makes his eyelashes papery, like wings. He wonders what Lonan sees in him—for a moment, it’s all he wants to know.

Lonan knuckles the mug over and Harrison picks it up like he’s holding an eyeball. The tea is hot, though Lonan hasn’t seemed to mind, and its flowery perfume burns Harrison’s throat. Lonan pulls the mug back to him when Harrison’s done, and takes another sip.      

“I still have no idea,” Harrison says, and to his shame, studies Lonan’s face for a bite wound.

“Earl grey.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“It expired four years ago.”

Harrison gasps, and Lonan almost smiles. And for a moment, Harrison almost forgets where he is. What happened at this counter just a few hours prior. With Lonan, it almost disappears. They could be back at the cabin, needling through the woods on that first day they tried to get rid of the dark room. They could be in the water, shielding, yet simultaneously pushing each other under. They could be dancing to no music in a tiny bathroom or driving for carless miles in the tarnish of rain. 

This is my very overt metaphor that I bullshitted to title this novel that ended up working being very overtly injected into this book !! :))) but imagine this part with a sepia filter and it’s actually a silent film with captions oh:

“I found this article,” Lonan says, and turns the paper over. It’s not very long, just a small corner of the entire page, but Harrison sees the title, all bolded, Summer’s Dreaded Pesk: 10 Facts About Moths. He leans in closer to read it.

The facts are almost all useless to him—that moths like sweet things, that there are thousands of species, that many don’t eat, but what sticks out to him is the last: how they’re attracted to light. Harrison skims the text with his fingernail, reads something about light traps, and tries not to think of how unfortunate it all is—to move toward light and then stop moving altogether. 

He knows whatever he will say will keep him here, in this sun, on this barstool, reading the newspaper about moths, sitting next to Lonan, drinking his tea, never knowing what flavour it is. Harrison inhales, and on his exhale, unclasps the chain and drapes it around Lonan’s throat.

When the angel hits Lonan’s chest, a sound comes out of his mouth that Harrison thinks is almost animal. Harrison’s hand lingers on the back of Lonan’s neck when he clasps it, feeling the pulse of Lonan’s heartbeat, even from all the way up here.

Lonan clutches the angel when Harrison pulls back, and he doesn’t let go, even when Harrison rises.

“I’m going to grab a pack of cigarettes,” Harrison says. “Is there a gas station around here?”

“Just up the road.” Lonan’s brows furrow.

“Do you want anything?”

“I don’t think so.”

Harrison nods. Then he steps back, away from the kitchen, and slips his shoes on, one by one, more carefully than he’s ever done before. He knows Lonan looks at him. He knows what’ll be in his eyes if he looks up—and so he doesn’t. Harrison checks his jacket pocket for his car keys, and when they jangle, he turns toward the door.

“How long?”

Lonan’s voice makes him jump.

“Pardon?”

“How long will you be gone?”

Harrison frowns. “I’m just grabbing a pack of cigarettes.”

So Harrison’s reaction to everything being white and gold is my reaction to modern decoration loool this is just CNF at this point:

Harrison buys the pack of cigarettes. And then the gum. And then he finds his mother.

She isn’t hard to locate. A quick question at the checkout counter, and he finds out the apartment complex near the public garden is only a fifteen-minute drive away.

It’s just as he pictures it. A white building, with a white lobby, the bricks white, the carpets white, the tables white. In little places, there are bits of gold, in place he doesn’t think gold should be—lining the keyboard the security guard types at, on the edges of every window so it’s only visible when the sun flashes.   

And at last, here’s the final paragraph of the book!!! angst!!

His mother reads. Harrison watches. A father and son down below, who take turns walking their golden retriever. A food stand vendor that hands a stack of checked tissues to a mother wrangling four small children. A couple who take photos in front of a fountain, how he can almost hear the mechanical click of their camera from fifty feet up. Something stirs inside of him, at the thought of Lonan back in that golden apartment, and he only realizes what it is much later, when his mother is heating up something spiced and leftover in the microwave. The feeling like being buried alive and wanting to do it again just so someone can pull you out. A loneliness he sucks on until his mouth sores. 

And there it is!! This book has been so much fun to share with y’all! Thanks for reading these updates and for all the love for this novel. I haven’t written anything for book two in a while, and am now feeling nostalgic to do so, so keep an eye out for more Moth Work related endeavors! For now this is the end!

--Rachel

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Maou-jou 9 - 12 (FINAL) | Idolish7 s2 10 - 15 (FINAL) | SLS 2

I’ve been holding off new seasonals because of other things, but after I post this I’ll have enough time to get around to them. That’s why I can’t guarantee winter 2021 seasonal tags on this post...maybe the next one will have them...

Maou-jou 9

…it seems shopping channels even are the same in the demon world.

Now even the demons have quests! (The frame is different to the princess’s, though.)

Oh! The quest failed.

Neo Alraune: in flower language, “the 2nd coming of happiness”. The worry from a little while ago was, “I’m worried about my brother.” The worry from recently: “I didn’t think about being happy that the princess didn’t kill my brother.”

The penguin demons are pretty cute!

Don’t you know how parents forbid children from sleeping until they finish all their homework? Must be something like that.

Yoku ganbarimashita! – Syalis worked hard!

LOL, mental age: 3. Poseidon likes cute things…I can’t read a lot of this…the hardsubs cover the JPN text.

They…both succeeded! (…LOL?)

Maou-jou 10

Owarinocity = Endopolis. It’s a good equivalent, if I do say so myself.

…oh yeah. What happened to Alraune? Update: There she is!

Also, that blonde guy in the infomercials doesn’t look too bad…*makes chef’s kiss gesture with one hand* Nice.

I wonder, was Twilight once human…?

LOL, there’s a goat symbol on the cleric’s pyjamas. Also “first time”, LOL.

I think they were playing shiritori at one point.

Hanamaru saikou yoku dekimashita!

Maou-jou 11

…How does one “sleep cheerfully”, anyway?

I think I saw Twilight drop something…some kind of paper…

Aw, Twilight blushing is kinda cute!

LOL, 70s shoujo style. Also, “It cannot be!”

Whoa, she cancelled it?!

I read up on this series on TV Tropes…and apparently the Demon King captured the Princess in her sleep.

Kagemusha? Like a ninja or something?

Apparently the Demon Cleric is much older than he looks.

Ooh! Hypnos is back!

A-whatsit really is abysmal levels of stupid!!! (LOL)

Maou-jou 12 (FINAL)

Who’s that one tiny guy occupying one of the Ten Kings’ seats?

*watching after Christmas, about a week after the anime finished* This is not seasonally appropriate!

…*thinks for a second, then spits* That’s the 2nd Nemu in the fall 2020 season!!!

Ooh, the head paladin doesn’t look that bad, either.

“…is it good to be…”

“…has seized the princess!”

“…that demon king is rather cute.” – See? Someone agrees with me.

Anyways, that was a fun series. See you soon!

Idolish7 s2 10

…Back at it after so long…(I can’t help it though – Crunchyroll, per month, is about double the local Funimation sublicensor’s fees, and for much less content that’s worth my money to boot!)

I’ve always thought Momo was like Sasara (HypMic), so seeing him anguished hurts me in the kokoro too…

I know Banri was involved with Re:vale somehow…this must be it.

…Male idols are also popular among men? Is this why there are 8 (!!!) idol anime in winter 2021 alone…? (Also, that’s why HypMic became popular? Multidemographic appeal crossed over with obvious merchandising opportunities?)

It’s kind of scary how Momo stepped the formality towards Yuki like that (to -san).

I guess in his heart Momo still reveres Yuki, some way or another.

The rakugo curtain really sold the moment that they (current Re:vale) were acting like an old married couple.

Yay! Silver Sky is such a cool song! Of course I recognised the intro when it came on.

…I see. The elder Kujo is entrusting his dream to Tenn, so that’s why he banned Aya from seeing Tamaki. However, it’s hard to know what to feel when Aya speaks in the vaguest terms possible.

I think that was a special ending for only this episode. I don’t know what its name is, but I guess I might recognise it on Spotify one day.

Idolish7 s2 11

LOL, Nagi’s reaction.

Considering the ‘rona is getting worse outside our very windows as we speak (type?), I think it’s correct to be concerned about your future right now.

Looking at these narrow streets reminds me of going to eat hotpot at the end of my Japan trip…only Japanese streets look like that, I think. Hong Kong’s streets are more crowded than that and America likes their suburbia.

Of course, when you say hajimemashite (nice to meet you), someone’s gotta say it back, hence the reply.

Considering there are people all over the world watching the Idolish7 anime, I would say you are telling the world about I7, Riku.

Oh! Restart Pointer! There was an MV for that one…I think it was around the time Idolish7’s MVs started getting better.

So this is the context around the new outfits! Cool!

There have been way too many puns about “idol” being…y’know, “ai (love) doll” and stuff like that…

I have one Twitter person who I follow (DejiNyucu, part of the creative team for Autumn’s Journey) because I don’t get much I7 content and they keep mentioning this “Haruki” person…and suddenly a “Haruki the Betrayer” showed up in the graffiti…they might be the same person, I think. Not Deji, but Haruki. Update: Sakura Haruki, perhaps…?

Sougo’s such a bad liar…

Sometimes, the best way to deal with things is to be direct…(I’m not very good at that, I naturally talk in a very roundabout sort of way.)

Sougo with long hair like Yuki would be really pretty… (<- has an obvious thing for guys with long hair)

Idolish7 s2 12

Nagi’s stupid accent is generally what he’s best remembered for (for me), so seeing him speak normally, and do a press conference on top of that, is…impressive.

A kabedon on top of all this! Whoa!

Shibuya 109 parody…? (I’ve seen that once or twice – parodying that means people know their stuff about Shibuya.)

I think the “it’s overflowing!” is referring to the hype in the “room”.

…this dejected Momo is worrying…(well, he is worrying and I am worrying about him.)

Oh, I see. The person responsible typed the letter so that they couldn’t be traced back. Kind of like those old movies where the culprit would cut letters out of newspapers to make threat mail, but…with even less traces than that, because cutting letters out leaves evidence.

…wow, it took a while for this ep. to have an intro…

…LOL, I just spotted Kenjiro Tsuda cited as the “fake Zero”, meaning the real one might never show up this season.

There’s something really stupid and infectious about these managers’ enthusiasm for drinking energy drinks. It puts a goofy smile on my face.

Is Musubi Tsumugi’s mother…? Update: Yes, she is.

…Wait, so the Chiba Shizuo guy is actually important?!

Idolish7 s2 13

Whenever someone says “by the way”, it means they’re changing the subject. I hate to state to obvious, but Sougo is clearly deflecting the topic of conversation from being about him.

I wonder if this guy (Haw9) is the actual Zero graffiti vandal…?

Hmph, I didn’t realise Tenn doesn’t refer to Kujo-san as his father, but…like that (“Kujo-san”) instead.

Oh hey! These are shots from Vibrato!

Most dramas can be solved with the power of Good Communication. That includes this one.

I feel like “he has a dark side” describes both Tenn and Kujo-san.

“Everyone, remember to wash your hands and gargle thoroughly.” – This is always a good thing to remember in the time of ‘rona. Reminds me of Jakurai’s line in ARB (<- this game started just after the ‘rona came down).

What did Sougo go to uni for (what specialisation)?

Idolish7 s2 14

I just realised Banri calls Momo -kun. Hmm…

Denki = electricity, LOL.

I feel like Tenn is basically Ramuda, give or take actual pink hair…guys in musical groups with pre-existing angst that they become the “centre” of. The fact Fling Posse have Saito Soma and so do Trigger strengthens the connection.

I would watch the heck out of a musical like that! Make it come true, Idolish7! (Also, today is I7 day! I’m not much of an I7 fan outside the anime, but…that’s cool!)

That shot of them jumping! I remember seeing it on the official site before!

Idolish7 s2 15 (FINAL)

There you go! I was wondering where Banri’s injury was – that was the only bit that didn’t add up for him to be Yuki’s old partner.

Hmm…Momo is 4 years younger than Yuki but 2 years younger than Banri…

This episode has a real concert vibe to it, to the point where I got startled by how loud the yell was at one point. (Even if it is mostly stills.)

LOL, lookit Okazaki!

Apparently, if you’re a hako oshi, you like all the members of a group. Someone with a green light and a pink light likes both members of Re:vale.

LOL, Usagi for Asahi beer.

…I forgot Nagi is 19.

…Ooh, I think that’s the kid from ZOOL. No wonder they needed a season 3!

That’s all. See you next time!

SLS 2

“fine and upstanding person” – That’s…hard to believe, Hayato.

I wonder how many bois Toboso designed for SLS…?

…The episode title is actually “Blank”. Not “Break”.

One of the guys’ shirts says moteki on it. That’s a period in one’s life where one enjoys more romantic attention than usual, literally “popularity season”.

The subs missed an I, so initially I knew Kiriyama’s name as “Kiryama”.

There are meant to be 2 wings, right…?

“He who controls information controls everything, right?” – For once, I’m surprised Hayato is right (and not just in that smug way of his).

“…I’m being treated like a manager.” – But Hayato is a manager! (In a sense.)

The plait guy jumps to nicknames really fast…also, why do I get the feeling Maeshima will lose the key?

I hate to say this Maeshima, but I side with your childhood friend (Kiriyama) here. As much as the anime wants me to back you, I’m watching for everyone else at this point.

That blocky building looks pretty cool. I think Zel (Archi-Anime) would like it.

Sasugai’s setup looks pretty cool, including his chair.

…hmm, Maeshima’s like me in a sense. I learn best by copying others, but memory is my best asset. If I don’t regularly train the fundamentals, I suck at everything. That said, I don’t have an eidetic memory. Also, I didn’t quite figure out Ken = Ken(sei Maeshima) until I watched long enough to connect the dots.

LOL, Derry’s. (<- reminded of a word for “butt” <- derriere)

Well, the guy’s (Souta…?) shirt does say moteki…

Kiriyama kinda looks like Jyuto (HypMic), come to think of it…Right down to his angry streak (although Jyuto has a reputation to keep as a “cool dude”, while Kiriyama is more of a Manza (Boueibu HK) and he’s more angry than he looks).

…This ED is nothing special.

…Hmm? Is that a small Terauchi and Maeshima…?

I think I’m sold for now, but I’m rooting for the other team, not Maeshima’s…not yet, anyways.

[deans-baby-momma]

Rebel Without A Cause-Ch 19

A/N: The NSFW document has been updated to include this chapter.

After the events in Delaware, Maggie went back to work at the newspaper. Jo was still miffed that Maggie was now dating Dean and had practically cut all ties with her co-worker and former friend. 

The rest of the staff were still as warm and welcoming as before though, and so life went back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be when you are exclusively dating an up and coming rockstar. 

Maggie had to get used to media speculations on who the mystery woman was that had tamed the lead singer, seeing as there were no more obnoxious stories coming from the band's late-night shenanigans. TMZ had snapped a picture of her and Dean at the airport but thankfully, her face had been obstructed so it was still a bit of a puzzle for those who didn't know.  

Monday morning came and Maggie arrived at her work cubicle to find a note to report to Mr. Singer's office immediately. She put her bag and personal items in her desk and made her way to the oak door with his name splashed across it. As soon as she knocked, she heard a gruff "Come in" and anxiously turned the knob.

Taking a deep breath, Maggie walked into the editor's office. She knew she had been lax on her last couple of stories, not going into many details about the performance or the production of the shows. She had mostly just written her personal opinion for each piece and went on her way, in favor of submitting something just to get back to Dean. She feared that her lack of effort was going to ultimately cost her the job. 

Mr. Singer's office was what Maggie would call collective chaos. Papers littered every surface of the room, scattered among empty takeout boxes and bottles of water. She didn't know how the man kept any semblance of order, let alone publish the weekly editions of Ft. Garrison News. 

She cleared her throat and spoke to the man behind the equally cluttered desk. "You wanted to see me?"

"Huh?" Mr. Singer grunted then looked up from his computer. "Oh yes. Ms. Fitzgerald. Yes,  we need to discuss a few things.

"I'm sorry, babe. I can't," Maggie expresses through the phone. "I can't afford to lose this job, you know that."

"I know,' Dean responds with a defeated sigh. "Not going to be the same without you,  though. You’re what I look forward to now. My performances are going to suck!" Dean knew he was sounding like a whining kid but it was true, he always seemed to execute better shows knowing she was in the back waiting for him- she was his muse, his dream. But he also knew that her career was just as important so he sucked it up and relented. "Can I at least call you after the shows?"

"I'd be upset if you didn't," Maggie tells him. "No matter how late it is, I expect you to call me and tell me all about it."

"What if I'm in need?" Dean asks playfully, already resigned to the fact that for at least his next two gigs Maggie wouldn't be there. "Can we have phone sex?"

Laughing at the request, Maggie replies. "I'll do one even better. We can Skype sex."

"Woman, you’re going to kill me," Dean wails through the earpiece.

Without looking at the ringing device, Maggie grabs her phone as she logs out for the day and grabs her bag from her desk.

"Maggie Fitzgerald speaking."

"So, Dean says you're stuck with work for the next two shows?" Maggie smiles as she recognizes Rayne voice. 

After the events of that night in Milton, Rayne and Maggie had become best friends, calling and texting each other constantly. The fact that they had become more intimate than usual best friends wasn't even an afterthought. It was as if it were totally normal for friends to eat each other out and fuck their respective boyfriends’ side by side. 

"Yea, well, when the bossman practically tells you to shape up or ship out, you kinda gotta shape up if you want to keep your job."

"That sucks," Rayne says and Maggie can visualize the pout on her friend's face. "I'm not going to have anyone to talk to."

"Oh, I'm sure you can find someone to talk to. Backstage is usually full of eager people," Maggie chuckled. Her amusement died out as a thought came to mind but she shook it off. "You could always chat up Crowley." The smile on her face returned as she heard her friend scoff through the device.

"Yeah right. That man is as entertaining as a hermit crab," Rayne said. "I'm sure we can find plenty of stuff in common."

Maggie and Rayne continued to discuss the reason Maggie was missing the next two shows as Maggie drove home.

That night, Maggie laid in bed. She knew Dean was up on that stage, rocking and singing, dancing, and making all the ladies in the place swoon. Her earlier conversation with Rayne came back to mind; specifically about the eager people who would be backstage to party and celebrate with the band. All the women that would be willing to praise and applaud them, especially Dean. He was the frontman, the one everyone seemed to swoon about. 

Maggie hated to admit it but she was fearful that without her presence, Dean would resume his old persona. The persona where he would pick a woman out of the crowd and enjoy her company, with or without the others. Would he overlook the fact that they were in a relationship in lieu of some random pussy? Would he realize that he was actually missing out on the indulgence of a random fuck? Is he buried deep inside someone who wasn't her at this very moment? Maggie fell asleep waiting for a phone call that may or may not come. 

Maggie's heart broke as she walked into the room to see Dean laying on his back with a blonde bouncing on his cock. His hands were gripping her hips so tight, Maggie was sure the girl would be sporting bruises in the shape of his fingers for days. He had his head thrown back,  eyes closed and his mouth hung open, grunts and groan passing through his pink lips.

"Fuck, Suze! You ride my dick so good," Dean pants out and Maggie can feel the tears swell and overflow her eyes, running down her face. How could he do this to her? How could he just shrug what they had off so easily? Maggie watched as Dean began thrusting up into 'Susie' and her head started ringing. And continued to ring. Squeezing her eyes shut to get the image of her boyfriend screwing some stranger out of her head and to try to stop the ringing, Maggie opened her eyes slowly when there was only the ringing left in her head. No moans and mewls in a feminine voice,  no grunts and groans from Dean; just a constant ringing. 

She was dazed for a moment as she took in the sight of the ceiling tiles above her, her bedroom ceiling tiles. She was in bed crying into her pillow over Dean sleeping with someone else. The ringing stopped only to start again and Maggie realized it was her phone making the sound. It had all been a dream!

Wiping away the tears and clearing her throat, she hoped her voice didn't give away the fact that she'd been crying. "Hey, babe," she answers after seeing Dean's name on the screen.

"Hello, gorgeous," Dean's voice croons through the phone, the smile evident. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Maggie lies. "No, I was just uh, editing my story for the high school theater program I had to cover. How was the concert?"

"Eh, it was okay. I missed seeing you in the crowd. I miss you, baby," Dean says with a sigh of longing. "Can I see you? You up for a Skype call?"

Maggie chewed on her lip at his request. She knew as soon as he saw her face, he'd know she had lied about being awake. He would see that she'd been crying and then she would have to voice her doubts and fears. 

"Um, just let me go to the bathroom real quick and then I'll Skype you, okay?"

"Make it quick, sweetheart," Dean laughs. "There is someone here that's really missing you."

Maggie hangs up and rushes to the bathroom to wash the evidence of her tears off her face, wondering who he could be talking about. Was he with Sam and Rayne? 

Opening her laptop, Maggie sat with her legs crisscrossed on the bed. She opened the Skype app and scrolled down to click on Dean's handle. She watches as the call connects and Dean's handsome face fills the window, a wide smile making itself known. "There's my beautiful girlfriend!"

Maggie blushes, she will never get used to being called beautiful by the sexiest man on the planet. 

"Hi," she answers with an equally wide smile. "So are you alone?" she asks as she takes in his bare shoulders and chest. Why was he shirtless if he was hanging out with his brother and her best friend?

"Yep. All alone," he confirms. "Came straight back to the room after the concert."

"If you're alone, who were you talking about missing me?"

Dean gets a wicked gleam in his eyes and answers, "Little Dean misses you." 

Maggie laughs as she watches him change the viewfinder on the phone to the camera on the back. His arousal is evident under the blanket. His hand comes into view and she gazes at her screen while he palms his erection and wraps a hand around his covered length. "There isn't anything little about him," she states.

Dean comes back on the screen and he has a smirk on his face. He knows he’s well-endowed and he knows what it does to her.

"Baby, I'm so fucking horny," he whines through the computer speakers. "I need a release. Will you help me?"

Maggie pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down on it. "And just how do you suppose I do that?" she teases.

"Show me that pretty little pussy, baby. Let me rub one out while watching you do the same."

Quickly undressing and positioning the computer between her legs, Maggie gets comfortable. "How's that?" she asks, making sure not to glance at the smaller window on her screen; concentrating on the view of Dean's hand rubbing up and down his cock.  

"Fuck, baby. That pussy looks so delicious. Touch your clit.  Rub circles on it, make it throb for me." Maggie grants his request, touching her sensitive button and shivering at the sensation. She could feel her wetness increasing and her walls flutter around nothing. Dean's groans through the speakers bring her attention back to him.

She can tell he lubed up his hand with saliva before beginning to thrust his hips into his hold. Watching him jerk off causes Maggie to need more, to need to be filled so she withdraws from her clit and reaches lower, teasing her entrance with her fingertips. "Goddamn. That is sexy as fuck. Finger yourself, baby. Slide those fingers into that hot pussy, Mags. Get yourself off with your hand."

Maggie pushes her fingers into her body and immediately feels the coil in her abdomen tightening. She begins fucking herself with her fingers at the same pace Dean's hand moves along his hardened dick. 

"Fuck I miss feeling that tight cunt squeezing me," Dean pants out. "Tell me, baby, are you gonna cum? Is that pussy clamping down on your fingers yet?" 

"Uh-huh," is all Maggie can utter. She is so close to an orgasm. It's been a while since she's done this but the sound of Dean's voice and what he is saying brings her to her end quickly.

"Cum with me, Mags," Dean says and she obeys, soaking her fingers and palms as she sees him shoot his load, a gob of his release hitting the screen. "Oops." Dean chuckles. "Will definitely need to clean that off before I use my phone again."

Maggie laughs with him, removing her hand from between her legs and wiping her juices off with a towel.

"Well that was fun, but my god Mags, I miss you so fucking much!" Dean says after they have both cleaned up and are dressed again, enjoying the afterglow of a good orgasm.

"I miss you too, Dean," Maggie admits, feeling the ache deep in her chest. She knew now that she loves and is in love with Dean but prior experiences have her frightened to admit it out loud. Love hadn't worked out for her in the past.

When they both begin to yawn, they decide to hang up and get some rest. As they say their goodbyes,  Dean utters something that sends Maggie reeling. 

"I love you, baby," Dean sleepily declares as he ends the call, leaving Maggie to stare at the now darkened screen. 'Did he?' she thinks. 'Did he just say he loves me?'

Maggie is in the audience of the local community theatre observing the cast as they act out a scene from Shakespeare’s ‘Taming of the Shrew’ when her phone vibrates in her pocket, notifying her that someone had sent her a message. She quickly checks the device to see that Rayne has sent her a video. Knowing she can’t watch it at that time, Maggie slips the phone back into her pocket and continues watching as Tranio and Lucentio discuss how Lucentio can win Elena’s heart before Grumio returns with detailed stories of what happened at the wedding of Kate and Petruchio.

By the time the curtain drops at the end of the 5th and final act, Maggie is anxious to get out of the theatre so that she can see what Rayne had sent her. As soon as she gets into her car and is settled, she pulls her phone out and opens the message. The video begins playing and Maggie sees it is the backstage room that she and Rayne usually hang out in while the guys are on stage. It’s obvious by the lack of people in the room that Rayne is alone. Maggie watches as the camera pans around the room, She sees Meg and Cas in a discussion with a group of people, Benny standing to the side talking to the stage crew. She briefly speculates where Dean is but before that thought can get out of control, Maggie sees Rayne’s pretty face fills the screen. She turns the volume up to hear what her friend is saying.

“...the concert was good. Everyone enjoyed themselves but the after-party is a little quiet.” Rayne laughs and smiles up at who Maggie suspects is Sam. “I’m getting there, honey,” she says and then directs her attention back to the camera. “So I just wanted to let you know. Everything is good and you don’t have to worry about your man because well…” she turns the camera once again and Maggie sees Dean sitting by himself, looking down at his phone. “Let’s just say he’s occupied. And lonely.” Rayne sneaks up behind Dean and Maggie can see what he is looking at. There is a picture of her that he had snapped one day while they were out filling the screen. In the picture, Dean had said something goofy, causing Maggie to laugh and he had taken that opportunity to snap a picture. 

Rayne once again directs the camera toward herself and smiles brightly. “Girl, we all miss you. When are you coming back? Love you!” Rayne blows a kiss at the screen before ending the video.

Maggie feels the tears well up in her eyes, knowing that Dean has apparently changed his philandering ways and instead was staring at her picture is just, so sincere. And after what he had said the last time they talked, it made Maggie’s heart beat faster. He did love her! Maggie decided then and there that she wasn’t missing any more concerts, even if she did have to look for another job. She wanted-needed-to be with her man.

@pink1031​ @spnbaby-67​ @winecatsandpizza​ @joseyrw​ @kricketc29​ @tftumblin​ @markofdean79​ @sandlee44​ @michellethetvaddict​ @lyarr24​ @travelingriversideblues-x​ @deanwanddamons​

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Farmer’s Daughter [Part 2]

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bill Ridgely [OC], John Winchester, OFC,

Word Count: 1315 // Rating: Teen

Summary: Could this be Dean’s shot at a normal life

Tags/ Warnings: Love, New Love, Falling In Love, New Relationship, Original Female Character, Farm, Farming, Farm Work, Jobs, Brothers, Hints at Abuse, Neglect, Absent Dad,

Notes: Never done an spn series before [updated 9/22 might continue it]

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4

After airing out the finer details Bill showed Dean around the farm and introduced him to the other guy that worked there, Taylor. After the tour, they made their way around to one of the outhouses where there was a gathering of machinery. As they approached Bill left Dean and walked ahead to an old-looking pickup truck before he beckoned him over. Dean joined him next to it and watched as the older man climbed in and started trying to turn the engine. It took a moment but it started with a low rumble and Bill smiled, ‘atta girl. Now, Dean, this isn’t much but it’s a nice lil run-around for doing jobs around the farm. All you gotta do is keep her in tune and filled with gas and she’s yours for whatever you wanna do.’

‘Thanks so much,’ Dean said thinking of the long walk back to the motel which would now not be a problem. ‘Now, I’ll let you have a tinker with her but then I need you to go up to the top field and help Taylor pick the peaches. When you guys have done he’ll show you how to move the cows and then fix the fence in the orchard alright?’ ‘Yes sir,’ he replied as Bill climbed out of the truck. Bill walked away and Dean got inside having a look around his new ride. It wasn’t his baby but it was better than nothing. After a thorough inspection, Dean drove it around to where the other cars were lined up, climbed out and walked to the top field where he found Taylor the other farmhand working away picking peaches and tossing them into the tub by his feet. He was around Dean’s age but blonde and far more tanned.

‘Hey,’ Dean said but Taylor didn’t take him on, ‘Hey!’ ‘Oh hey,’ Taylor said turning around and taking off his headphones, ‘sorry man. You need something?’ ‘Bill sent me up here to help you…I mean if you can just tell me what to do I’m sure I’ll pick it up.’ ‘Sure man,’ he said with a southern drawl, ‘take one of those tubs and pick what you can. We do as much as we can today but it’ll get too hot later so we’ll bring the cows around then and then we’ll have to get to that fence later this afternoon.’ ‘Okay,’ Dean said grabbing a tub and going to the neighbouring tree to Taylor. They worked in silence as Taylor slipped his headphones back on. Dean had sold his old walkman a while ago when Sammy wanted some new school shoes so he picked the peaches quietly. But it was nice, in its own way, he didn’t really have to think about anything.

Well, it was nice for all of twenty minutes. After two hours Dean was sweating through his thin T-shirt and the sun kept on climbing. Taylor seemed unbothered but Dean could feel an ache in his triceps from the constant reaching higher and higher up each tree. That being said, with two of them they had made good progress and were almost done with this whole line of trees in the short space of time. When they were at the very end tree Taylor took off his headphones and spoke.

‘Let’s finish after this one. Haul them all into my truck and we’ll head back to the house. We can grab some lunch and then back out again.’ Dean followed Taylor’s lead and they hauled all the tubs of peaches into the bed of his truck before getting into the cab and heading back to the house. Taylor ran into the house without a care, shouting for Bill who was already seated at the kitchen table reading a newspaper while eating a sandwich.

‘Hey boys,’ he said with a mouthful of bread, ‘how’s this morning going?’

‘Good,’ Taylor said grabbing a soda and sandwich out of the fridge and handing the same to Dean too, ‘nice to have another pair of hands out there.’

‘I’d be out there with you boys if I could,’ Bill said looking down at his hands only then Dean noticed the nodules and misshapenness of them, it was arthritis for sure.

‘I know,’ Taylor said, ‘where’s the missus?’

‘Headed out into town. Made lunch for everyone though.’

‘She’s a star,’ Taylor chuckled and Dean smiled, not yet feeling able to join in on the ‘workplace banter’. They chatted while they ate, going over the afternoon plans. Bill was going to help with the cows as much as he could but then he needed to do some paperwork. After lugging all the peach tubs into the barn for safekeeping they cracked on. And the afternoon was brutal. More brutal than Dean expected and picking peaches was a walk in the park in comparison. Instead, this was a walk in the muddiest pasture on the farm trying to convince 40 cows to follow one another into the next field. And it wasn’t going well. Taylor and Bill seemed to enjoy the novelty of a new boy and couldn’t suppress their mirth as Dean lost a shoe in the mud and was almost pinned to the gate by a 600-pound cow. The heat had done nothing to dry up this mud and Dean was filthy by the time they had securely rotated every one of them into the next pasture. And the day wasn’t done.

As Bill departed their company Dean followed Taylor to the shed to get tools to mend the fence. They then traipsed to the edge of the orchard and started repairs. If Dean’s arms were sore already they were in for a whole new world of pain. He was tasked with holding each slat of wood up while Taylor hammered them into place. His arms were burning and the heat was making him faint.

Finally, Taylor informed him they were done for the day and Dean checked his muddied watch to see it was a quarter to four. He’d be home soon after Sam. As they walked back Taylor asked how he was feeling. Dean didn’t know. His dad was going to be gone for at least another month and sure the wage was good but the heat this far south lingered all year and the work was back-breaking. He was sore all over and the prospect of another few weeks like this made him shudder. He was defeated. As much as it annoyed him to admit it.

‘So, you ready for round two tomorrow?’ Taylor asked as they made their way up the back of the house around the front. ‘I don’t know,’ Dean winced, ‘I’m beat.’ ‘You get used to it,’ Taylor said. ‘I don’t know man I just,’ Dean didn’t want to say the words. But Taylor wasn’t taking any notice of him. ‘Hey Scarlett,’ Taylor said capturing Dean’s attention from his thoughts of quitting ‘Hey Taylor,’ said the girl. Dean looked up and for the first time ever, the wind was knocked out of him, ‘hey Dean, right?’ ‘That’s right,’ Taylor said watching Dean strangely as he looked up at her on the porch but made no noise, ‘sorry he’s a lil beat. Your dad has worked him hard today.’ ‘That’s Daddy,’ she said with a smile, ‘not too put out are ya dean?’ ‘What? Uh no. I’ll live,’ Dean said feeling his old self come back. ‘Good,’ she said, ‘we could do with a little eye candy around here.’ ‘Oh thanks,’ Taylor said which made Dean chuckle. She winked and flitted inside the house. ‘Well, that settles that then,’ Dean said to his coworker. ‘What?’ asked Taylor. ‘I’m gonna have to stick around, y’know with me being eye candy and everything.’ ‘Shut up,’ Taylor said shoving Dean towards his new truck. Sam wouldn’t believe the day he had had.

[the-canary]

Save The Day - B.B (1/10)

Summary: Chasing phantom thieves, saving pretty gals from falling, getting a cool drink with his best pal – it’s just a normal day for Detective James Barnes. However, what if all that falling he seems to be doing is connected to the thief he’s chasing and the gal he’s got his eye on?

A/N: This is for @barnesrogersvstheworld ‘s 3k writing challenge. I have been sitting on this idea for some time now, it might seem a little silly but I hope you enjoy it!

Feedback is always appreciated. 

London, England - 1950.

“Did she ‘fa ‘ta do that?” a voice comes in sturdy but with a little static as two pairs of eyes watch the lone figure run through the rooftops, there isn’t much of a commotion this time around since the item that they were “claiming back” was in the hands of a private donor and the rich tended to be the kind that kept things under wraps -- less police, but more dangerous security.

“You know she likes showing off from time to time,” the second figure responds back, she catches her partner running a bit slower than usual before the masked figure slides off a railing. The blond sighs, knowing that there is going to be blood staining their floor tonight.

A second figure drops from her vantage point, as the blond starts her own decent as well, as she hears a police siren not too far from the estate the redhead --now coming her way after quickly changing clothes--

They make their way closely together down the dimming lit and rebuilt London streets to a little cafe that is open at all hours. The third figure, that had been watching over the entire operation via her own little machines, frowns for just a second as the two come up to kiss on her hello on the cheek -- just three working gals getting something sweet to eat after a long day at work.

“Took ya long enough, Noir,” she remarks in annoyance. Her heart still thumping from thinking that the redhead was a younger so a second, but all Noir does is pat the side of her hip and gives the two of them a smile before sitting down.

The blond shakes her head before taking her seat to her, as Noir keeps smiling and orders a drink from the semi-asleep man behind the counter.

They celebrate quietly, for now, waiting for the newspapers to come in rolling once again: THE SECOND JEWEL STOLEN BY THE BLACK WIDOW.

After tomorrow, they would on their way to a new city with a single task in mind.

New York City - 1950.

“So, you’re really thinking about askin’ her, huh punk?” the dark-haired man questions before taking a sip of his drink. The blond contemplated before a smile blooms on his face, as he stares at the little box in front of him --- a ring that belonged to his mother from before the first war had even started that had been safely kept for him by one Winnifred Barnes.

“I think I’ll combust if I want any longer, Buck,” Steve responses with a lovestruck smile that cause Bucky to stop for a moment because why he understood how much a Steve Rogers loved Peggy Carter -- it was crazy to see how far that once 5’2 back alley fighter was willing to go now.

Both him and Stevie had come back from the war, though not exactly as they had left it. James Buchanan  Barnes was a decorated war veteran with numerous awards and medals for his valor before and after his time with the Howling Commandos, though that didn’t make up for the arm (a la Stark) and time he had lost when he had been found by Allied troops after he has fallen off the train.

--He hadn’t gotten on a train since could barely handle the sound.    

Steve -- well, Captain America to most people nowadays-- had been mourned for over a year and a half before Stark finally found the plane hidden deep within the Atlantic. It took another ten months before anybody heard anything from him again as he had been rehabilitating in secret -- Steve woke up in cold sweats and nightmares after being found, like a younger version of himself all over again and while they were controllable now, he still had them. So, he threw himself into the mantle of Captain America once more, rebuilt the Howling Commandos with whoever was still around and young blood who wanted to get into finishing the fight-- Steve ran around with Pegs, Dum-Dum, Gabe, and Morita as his central group now.

So many things had changed and Bucky still struggled with it all, as he saw Steve whenever he was off a mission and near the area, but their youth had been taken and lost -- Bucky was at an impasse as Steve kept moving forward but unlike Bucky -- Steve had never felt that he had had a future until he came back from out of the ice and now he was certain of what he wanted in it.

“Well,” Bucky begins, “Ya gotta make it a New York wedding, if not my ma will kill before you get to the aisle.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” Steve laugh before taking a sip of his own drink, though neither of them can really get drunk now -- a fact that Bucky doesn’t like bringing up for himself because it’ll just lead to his own set of nightmares to come in and haunt him.

They settle into a steady talk of memories and updates of their old team, as Bucky tries to laugh off that he doesn’t miss all of it -- that he would gladly trade in his badge for another raid with Steve and the former Howling Commandos, was ready the moment Steve called for him. However, Steve thought that the domesticity and familiarity of New York were best for Bucky, especially after what had almost happened.

They makeup talk and pretend to ignore the real issues at hand --Bucky looking like he hasn’t slept and Steve always needing to be somewhere warm-- as they both look forward to Peggy Carter saying yes.

I’m sure you’ll find the right one. All of Brooklyn, hell New York is waiting for that ‘ol Bucky Barnes.

But, the old Bucky Barnes was dead. There probably wasn’t going to be a fairytale ending for him at the end, he can’t help but think bitterly over as he walks back down to his Brooklyn apartment.

If he really thought about, Bucky wasn’t really sure when it was the last time he had touched a woman, though he was sure it had to b before the war. The thoughts of finding the perfect gal and starting a little family of his own went down after every year -- and now Steve was getting married before him, he wasn’t so sure how to feel about that besides the happiness that came with Steve living past their youth.

It’s when he’s in his darker thoughts that he feels a slight bump near his shoulder and a grasp on his right wrist that he freeze, ready to bring back that old familiar training before he notices that the person who grabbed him is a dame -- a very pretty dame.

“Excuse me, sir,” she sniffs a bit as she motions to her foot barely above the ground, “Could you help me?”

Bucky blinks for a moment before nodding, as the dame tells him that she had fallen and had been walking alone in her new neighborhood. Blue eyes widen as he places a charming but empathetic smile on.     

“Good thing ya found me, ma’am,” he answers back as he places her arm over his neck before picking her up with the left one, “Detective James Barnes, at ya service.”

She gives him a timid smile before giving him directions, as Bucky can’t help but think that maybe Steve had been right -- just this once.

[southsuns]

dangerous beasts and convincing your boyfriend to let you keep them

so i updated the Deathclaw Fic. here it is boys

Harvey walked back home to Goodneighbor by himself, baby deathclaw in his bag, purring and occasionally chirping at him for some food. Nick didn’t approve of it, but Nick didn’t approve of much of what Harvey did. I mean, he liked Harvey, but in the same way you like a dog who’s a little too foolish for its own good.

Aaliyah supported the idea! Maybe not the train the deathclaw to attack people part, but she supported most of the plan. The important part, where Harvey took it home and took care of it, she agreed with.

He snuck in through one of the back alleys to miss the mutes and entered the gate into Goodneighbor. A couple people looked up from their spots on benches, then sat back into their newspapers. Daisy looked up and yelled a hello with a smile.

“Where’s Hancock?” Harvey called.

“Pah!” She huffed playfully, “After him already? He’s in the Rail. Been waiting for you, you know, wouldn’t shut up about it.”

Harvey smiled. “Glad to know he still whines about me when I’m gone.”

He slipped through the streets and into the third rail. Ham gave a small nod and a smile, and Harvey passed him a couple caps.

“He’s in the backroom waitin for you.”

Harvey laughed. “Am I that transparent?”

“Yes.”

He rolled his eyes, hopped down the steps into the Rail, and glanced around. Magnolia was in, as well as Percy, and the usual drifters, along with a couple people from Jessie’s group Harvey recognized. Percy yelled a hello, gave Harvey a hug, and told him to scram.

“Your dear boyfriend might just die if you don’t get back to him.”

“He can’t have been that bad.”

“You’re not around him when you’re gone.”

Hancock popped his head out of the backroom, obviously more than a little high, Harvey guessed a mix of jet and mentats, smiled, and turned to say something to some people in there with him. Two women and an exhausted looking man walked out of the room, flashed a smile and waved at Harvey, and then Hancock waved in.

His being high meant two things, Harvey knew. Hancock would be a little more needy, a little more protective, give a lot more compliments, and be much, much more handsy. Handsy was.. harder to distract him from, however if he was skillful with it, Harvey could distract Hancock long enough to get him back home and show him the baby in private.

“Harvey! Sunshine, I missed you-“

Harvey kissed him quickly on the forehead and wrapped his arms around Hancock’s shoulders. Hancock rested his head on Harvey’s shoulder and held him close by the waist, then pushed off a moment. He looked happy, and a little tired, and hungry.

Hancock moved towards Harvey’s neck, smiling, and murmuring some nonsense in a sweet voice Harvey couldn’t quite make out.

“Ah, ah ah! Wait a sec.” Harvey scolded, keeping one arm around Hancock’s shoulder and using his free hand to push him off.

Hancock pouted a little. Harvey held him by the base of the neck. “I have something to show you, darlin.”

“Okay… I missed you-“

“I know. You’ve said that. C’mon, we gotta go, I gotta show you something.”

Hancock pulled Harvey back closer by the waist when he moved. He hadn’t been on jet, Harvey could tell - mentats, yeah, but booze too.

“Carry me, then. Your room.”

Hancock gave a deep throated laugh, lifted Harvey by the butt, wobbled a little, and started walking. Harvey was quick to wrap his legs around Hancock and held onto him tighter, careful to hide the deathclaw in his bag.

When they made it to Hancock’s room, not without some nigh-falls on the stairs that terrified Harvey, Hancock dropped him gently onto the bed and sat next to him.

“What do you want to show me, babe?”

Harvey pulled out the deathclaw.

It seemed to sober Hancock quickly.

“Is.. is that a-“

“Deathclaw? Yeah. It was hurt. It’s still hurt, a little, but if we kept it..”

“You want us to keep.. a deathclaw?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

Hancock groaned and leaned back, popping his shoulders.

“Gotta say, this wasn’t how I pictured you comin home.”

“That’s because you’re drunk. And horny. And probably dehydrated.”

“And Nick.. let you?”

“Weeeell. I said it deserved a chance, and Allie agreed,”

“What do you plan to do with it?”

Harvey laughed and kissed Hancock on the cheek.

“You sound like Nick,” he leaned into Hancock’s shoulder, “I figure, we keep it, train it up, and then we have the most dangerous animal in the Commonwealth trained up as a pet that can attack people.”

Hancock looked at the wall thoughtfully.

“Train it?”

“To attack people.”

“That.. ain’t the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Qi Flows for Her

Chapter Ten

Master List  |  Steve Rogers Master List

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC x Bucky Barnes  |  Word Count: 6285 Warnings: Language, Angst

This update brought to you by Coffee Updates. You didn’t leave me your url, hun, and I wasn’t sure if you wanted your name used, but you know who you are!

The dark was warm, and Celine floated in it, relishing the peace and quiet. There were no emotions here. No people. No thoughts but her own. It was nice.

When a small dot of light appeared, she ignored it.

The dark was comfortable. It was safe. No one pressured her to be, or do, or become what she wasn’t. No one judged her.

But that speck of light was getting bigger and intruding on her solitude. Eventually, it brightened the space around her enough to see a small room with old wooden furniture. There was paint peeling from the walls. Newspapers covered some of the windows. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling overhead, and a lumpy mattress was stuffed in a corner.

Celine pressed a hand to her mouth. “Who could live like this?”

Footsteps outside sounded like they were climbing stairs and she could hear a quiet conversation.

“We looked for you, after. My folks wanted to give you a ride to the cemetery.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just kind of wanted to be alone.”

“How was it?”

“It was okay. She’s next to Dad.” The footsteps levelled out and came closer.

“I was gonna ask…”

“I know what you’re gonna say, Buck. I just…”

“We can put the couch cushions on the floor like when we were kids. It’ll be fun. All you gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash.” Amusement laced his tone.

There was a shuffling at the door, a scuffle, and the sound of metal on stone.

“Come on.”

“Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own.”

Through the opaque glass, she watched the bigger of the two men reach out and squeeze the other’s shoulder. “The thing is, you don’t have to. I’m with you to the end of the line, pal.”

The smaller sighed but nodded. “I know.”

“You come over if you need anything. Ma’s intent on stuffing you full of food tonight, so you damn well better at least show up for dinner, or she’ll send me to drag you over by the ear.”

A quiet chuckle. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay. You better.” The bigger of the two shadows turned and headed away. “I’ll boot you in the ass if you don’t show, punk!”

“I know you will.”

The key hit the lock, the door opened, and a small man slipped inside to turn and shut the door and lean his forehead against it. He stood there frozen for a long moment before his body began to shake and a sob wrenched from his chest.  He fumbled the lock, finally got it turned, and stumbled across the room to fall to his knees on the mattress, curl up in a ball, and cry great wrenching sobs.

Celine couldn’t help herself when she crossed the room and knelt beside him. The pain was too great. It consumed him. Robbed him of breath. His body was weak and broken, and this pain would make him sick.

“Shh…” she hushed, gently laying her hand on his head.

He whipped around, fist clenched, and face ravaged by grief. “Who are you?”

“Steve?” she gasped.

“Yeah.” He snuffled and rubbed his fists beneath his eyes. “Who are you?”

“Celine. I’m a friend.” She gently set her hand on his chest. “You need to slow your breathing, Steve.”

“Can’t.” He wheezed with each breath.

Celine reached for her chi and gasped when she found her reserves depleted down to almost nothing. Still, she drew a trickle from her heart chakra and sent the soothing green healing energy into him to halt the asthma attack. “Breathe, Steve.”

He gasped, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Wow.”

“Better?” He nodded. “Good,” she sighed and cupped his cheek. “So this is what you were.”

“I know you,” he said suddenly. “Not yet. Not now. But one day.”

“One day,” Celine agreed. “What is this, Steve?”

He looked toward the door, then around the room, and fresh tears fell. “Mom died. Today was her funeral.”

“Oh, baby.” Celine laid down and curled herself around his back. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

“The war will start soon.” He took a deep breath. “Then Buck will get drafted. His orders will come in, and he’ll be gone.”

“Buck? Bucky Barnes? That’s who was outside?”

“Yeah,” he sighed and relaxed. “He’s my brother. The only family I have left. I don’t know what I’ll do without him.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You’re right. A few more years, and I’ll be him. Captain America. I'll rescue Bucky and the others. I’ll become who I was meant to be.”

“Is that really how you feel?”

“Yes,” he said softly, his mind slipping toward sleep. “I was born this way to teach me humility and compassion. It makes me the best Captain I can be. Because in my heart, I’m still the little guy fighting for what’s right.”

Everything faded to black, and Celine found herself floating in the darkness again, but this time it wasn’t comfortable. She didn't want to be here anymore.

A new spark of light appeared in the distance, and she moved toward it, intent on leaving the darkness. This time when it lightened her blood ran cold. “Not here…”

Strapped to a chair was a shirtless Bucky with a man working on his arm. More men stood around watching. Quick as a snake, he lashed out and struck the man in the lab coat, sending him flying across the room. Guns cocked and pointed at him, but Bucky just sat back, his eyes haunted.

“Sir. He’s unstable. Erratic.”

A glance around for the person she could hear but not see showed they were in some kind of bank vault. Safety deposit boxes lined the walls. It was clear they’d set this up in a hurry. A clang announced the cage door of the vault opening, allowing another half dozen men inside.

The man who led the way, she knew his face. Alexander Pierce. The leader of SHIELD who’d been part of HYDRA.

“Mission report,” Pierce demanded.

Bucky’s confused, blank stare never changed. It was as if his mind was working, trying desperately to understand what had happened.

“Mission report now.” Bucky still didn’t answer, and Pierce took two steps forward, bent down, and backhanded him across the face.

Celine gasped softly in denial.

Bucky hardly reacted, only frowned, his eyes full of fear but not of the man before him. “The man on the bridge. Who was he?”

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”

“I knew him.” Bucky’s eyes shifted away from Pierce.

Pierce sat in the tech’s abandoned chair. “Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time. Society’s at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we’re going to give it a push. But, if you don’t do your part, I can’t do mine. And HYDRA can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.”

Bucky’s eyes shifted away, around the room. He swallowed thickly and glanced at Pierce. Confusion laced every action. Fear darkened his eyes. Something like hope flickered in the depths as he remembered something after years of nothing.

“But I knew him.”

Celine bit back a sob as Pierce sighed and got to his feet.

“Prep him.”

“He’s been out of cryofreeze too long,” murmured the doctor.

“Then wipe him and start over.”

She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming at the look of desolation that filled Bucky’s eyes.

They pushed him back in the seat, and he accepted the bite guard, but she could tell there was a single moment when he contemplated taking off the doctor’s fingers before his chair tipped back. Then the machine started, the arms descended, and his breathing accelerated.

Pain. There would be so much pain. And he knew it was coming. When the screaming started, Pierce left the room.

Tears streamed down Celine’s face as she watched the horror that had been Bucky’s existence unfold before her eyes. When it finally ended, they sat him up, and his eyes were blank. Dead inside. He was the weapon again. A machine. Nothing else.

They left him tied to the chair, and all but two of the guards left the room. Celine stumbled forward to sit on the seat Pierce had vacated. Neither of the guards noticed, but Bucky’s eyes shifted to her.

“Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” he mumbled around the mouth guard.

Celine reached forward and drew the rubber implement from between his teeth. For the second time, she chucked it across the room. “You are. You’re Bucky.”

“Not yet. Not here. Here I’m still The Asset. Soldat. Here I’m no one. I’m a weapon.”

“Soon though. Soon you’ll be Bucky again.”

“No. Not for a long time.”

“Yes.” She stood and cupped his face. “Yes, you are.”

“Even when you know me, I’m still not the Bucky I was. I’ll never be him.”

“No, you’re right, but you will be Bucky again. A new Bucky. A whole one.”

He looked away, but when he looked back, his eyes were the those of the Bucky she knew in the future. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she whispered brushing away the tear which had spilled down his cheek. “I’ll be with you til the end of the line, Buck.”

He inhaled sharply, and a flash of determination lit his eyes right before everything faded to black.

***

The sound of steady beeps filled her ears as Celine slowly woke to the low light of a dim medical ward. Her jaw hurt, but when she reached up to touch her mouth, it was like her arm swam through molasses. The going was slow, and she felt weaker than ever before in her life.

Finally, she managed to touch the tube going down her throat. A ventilator? Why was she on a ventilator?

The mission came rushing back. The girl. The fight. Thomas. Falling through the floor.

The slow beeping began to race with the pounding of her heart as she struggled to get the tube out of her throat.

“Hey! Hey!” Bruce rushed in and grabbed her hands. “Easy. Try to relax. If you calm down, I can take that out.”

Celine slowly relaxed, and Bruce set her hands on the bed, gave her a warning look, and walked away. It felt like it took forever before he came back and began detaching her from the ventilator. When he finally reached for the tube, he said, “I want you to take a deep breath and breathe it out hard while I pull this out.”

She gave a tired nod and did as told. It was still a horrible feeling and made her gag and cough once it was out.

“Here. Before you try to speak, wet your throat.” Bruce held out a glass with a straw Celine sucked on gratefully.

“Girl?” she croaked.

“The princess? We got her to the hospital with time to spare, but we nearly lost you in the process.”

“How bad?”

Bruce twitched the sheet back and pulled the side of her hospital gown up revealing the bandages wrapped around her middle. “Those Chitauri weapons pack a punch. You took a full blast to your right side. It seared off most of your skin, lacerated your liver, and just missed a kidney, but it was the fall that nearly killed you. You broke your back, Celine. Three ribs punctured a lung. Another nicked your heart. Your stable now, and healing faster than I thought possible if you're alert and semi-upright. Can you tell me what happened?”

Celine patted her throat and pointed to the water. He handed it back over without a fuss and sat her bed up so she could rest a little easier. Everything ached, but that wasn’t surprising.  She felt like she slammed into a cement floor because she had.

“Was trying to give Peter time to get the girl out,” she whispered, her throat feeling raw. “I didn’t know those weapons would go through my shield. The hit knocked me off the path, and I went through the floor. Managed to get my phoenix to break my fall a little and absorb-” she paused to take another sip, “absorb my qi again before blacking out.”

“You’re awake!” The shout had her looking toward the door where Peter was rushing her way. “I thought you were gonna die!” Peter cried, dropping down on the chair beside the bed.

“Friday let us know Vampira was awake. I just managed to get Peter out of his suit and to sit down in a chair other than that one to eat something. How inconsiderate of you to wake up now,” Tony teased, arriving at her bedside to take her free hand. “You gave us a scare.”

“Sorry,” she croaked and squeezed his fingers before reaching out to Peter. “I’ll be alright, little spider.”

He dropped his head on the edge of her bed and held onto her hand like a lifeline. “I thought you were gonna die, and I left you there. I left you behind.”

“Peter.” Celine stroked his hair. “Not your fault. You told me to be careful of their weapons. I was too cocky.”

“You were my partner. I shouldn’t-”

Celine closed her fist in his hair and tugged his head up so she could see his face. “You saved the girl. That was your job. What happened to me was my fault, not yours. Understand?”

His face scrunched from having his hair pulled but he murmured, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She let go of Peter’s hair and gently patted his cheek. “You did excellently. I would happily work with you again.”

“Really?”

He was such a puppy. Celine smiled and nodded. “Yes, Peter.”

“Come on, Pete. Let’s give the woman a chance to rest. The two fossils will be back soon. We’d better be there to give them the good news. Plus your Aunt is going to skin me if you don’t go home soon.” A guilty flush coloured Peter’s cheeks as Tony took him by the scruff and directed him out of the room.

She waited until they were gone before asking, “How long?”

“Less than twelve hours. I've been watching your bones knit back together. Don't take this wrong, but it's fascinating.”

Celine smiled. “Only you, Bruce.”

He patted her hand. “Sleep. Pretty sure you need to rest. Unless you need to feed?”

“Too tired,” Celine sighed and closed her eyes.

“You tell me what you need when you need it, Celine.”

“You gonna bring me a willing victim, Bruce?” she teased.

“I'm sure there's plenty of people who would volunteer,” he quipped as he walked away and Celine drifted off.

***

Steve and Bucky both woke with a start when the autopilot announced final descent. Neither were sure when they'd dozed off, but both felt rested, more so than they'd expected racking out in a jump seat.

“Did you dream?” Bucky cautiously asked Steve.

“I'm,” Steve frowned, “not sure. I feel like I did, but I can't- I don't… remember.”

“Fuck! I was hopin’ it was just me,” Bucky grumbled and slammed his head back against the seat.

“Givin’ yourself a concussion ain't going to help things, Buck.”

“Easy for you to say. You haven't had people fuck around in your brain before.”

“Hey.” Steve laid his hand on Bucky's arm. “You're not alone in this. Not this time. And for all the weirdness, I don't feel like this has an evil intent behind it. More like… connecting.”

“I just don't- I can't have this turn into another Soldier incident. I can't go dark again, Steve.” He looked up, and his eyes were full of fear. “I can't lose myself like that again. You've gotta promise me if I go dark you'll stop me before I hurt someone. Even if it means putting a bullet in me.”

“Buck!”

“Promise me!”

Steve stared at his friend, at the wildness in his eyes, and the hard set of his jaw. There had been a time not so long ago Bucky had contemplated ending it. So much regret, so much guilt and shame lived in him Steve knew there were moments Bucky still thought about putting a bullet in his skull.

They'd worked it out. Worked through it. But that didn't mean Bucky didn't still have moments of severe depression.

“Okay, Buck. If there's no other choice.” But Steve would always find another way. He'd thought Celine might be that other way, but now he didn't even know if she was still alive.

When the jet landed, both he and Bucky disembarked with swift strides only to find Tony standing beside Peter whose red-rimmed eyes were an opposite reaction to his wide smile.

“Stark?” Steve asked.

“She's alive, stable, and awake.”

Bucky's heavy sigh was one he echoed. “So, no more ventilator?” Steve asked.

Peter shook his head and swiped at the fresh fall of tears down his face. “Bruce took it out before we got there. I'm sorry I called you. I was just so worried. Mr. Stark told me I shouldn't, but I had too! You're her people.”

Steve exchanged a look with Bucky. “Her people?”

Peter shot a hasty glance at Tony. “Uh… yeah. She, uh, kinda talks, um, in her sleep.”

“Really?” Tony smirked. “And just what did your spidey ears overhear?”

He wiggled his eyebrows causing Peter to turn bright red. “No!” the boy shouted. “Nothing, nothing like that! She just… said their names and smiled. They're on her side! Or…” he shot Steve a look that clearly said he wasn't so sure about him. “They used to be.”

“We are, Pete.” Steve held out his arm and hugged the kid when he moved closer. “It's okay that you contacted me. I'm glad you did. Celine needs all of us looking out for her.”

“Can you tell us what happened?” Bucky asked motioning them all inside.

“I can do you one better.” Tony held out a tablet. “The recording from Pete's suit.”

Peter muttered something which sounded distinctly like “Babysitter protocol,” but Steve ignored it.

Their first look at Celine had Steve's jaw tightening, and Bucky's teeth grinding together. She looked sallow, ill, and not at all herself. Then she very nearly missed the jump and took a year off Steve's life.

They made their way inside, split up, and by the time Peter returned to her, there were three downed agents, and Celine appeared radiant. She'd fed and fed well clearly.

After, everything looked good until Peter left with the girl. They were heading for the jet at a steady clip, Peter informed Celine they were out, but she didn't respond. The sound of the building rumbling had Peter looking back in time to see it shake. He'd called out to Celine but had to get the girl to Bruce.

Clint and Nat showed up seconds later, Peter calling for Celine, telling her they had to go, but there was no response. Then an explosion went off in the building sending balls of fire through the roof.

Peter screamed her name, and Celine finally answered, yelling for them to go, to leave her. But that wasn't their way. No Avenger was left behind if they could be saved.

Clint and Peter charged down the ramp even as Natasha shouted, “Leave her! We gotta go!” They arrived just in time to watch Celine slam into the ground, her bird doing little to break her fall before all that golden energy returned inside her at a speed they'd never witnessed before.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance!" screamed the man on the second floor, but Peter didn't look up; his eyes glued on Celine.

“Sure thing, pal!” Clint said, his typical snappy comeback as he blew the floor out from under the guy.

Peter reached her side, a wealth of panic in his voice, but it was understandable.  She looked broken. Blood trickled from her mouth, and when Clint made Peter pick her up, she coughed, and more blood sprayed through the air.

“Jesus,” Bucky whispered, handing the tablet back to Stark.

“I shouldn't have left her with them,” Peter whispered, sniffling as he whipped his face on his sleeve.

Steve clapped his hand down on the boy's shoulder. “No, Pete. You did everything right. Your job was to get the girl out. Hostage comes first. You did that. Even the most well thought out mission can go wrong. What happened to Celine isn't your fault. I'm sure when she's able she'll tell you the same thing.”

“She already did,” Tony chuckled. “Now, kid. Happy's going to drive you home before May sends me another text. That woman is frightening when she wants to be. You focus on the positive. Celine's alive and looks like she'll be okay, and you, young man, rescued a real-life princess who now has a brand new heart. You did good, Peter. Real good.”

“He's right, kid,” Bucky agreed. “A solid mission.”

“Well, it was a team effort,” Peter blushed and let Tony usher him toward the elevator.

The two super soldiers turned as one toward the med wing. They'd have a debrief with Fury in an hour, but neither could wait a moment longer to see for themselves she was going to be okay.

“We're her people,” Bucky smirked. “I like the sound of that.”

“Just proves what I've been saying. She needs us as much as we need her.” Steve turned into the medical ward to find Bruce slumped over his desk. It appeared the good doctor had crashed after ascertaining Celine would be okay.

They crept past Bruce toward the darkened room to find a horribly pale Celine asleep sitting up. They separated at the foot of her bed to either side, and each tentatively took her hand. She didn't even stir.

“Celine,” Steve whispered. “We're back.”

“We missed you, dollface,” Bucky added. “You gave us quite a scare.”

Before Steve could double guess himself, he bent a laid a gentle kiss on her cheek. When he rose, Bucky repeated his action.

“We're gonna let you rest,” Steve whispered. “You just call if you need something.”

“We'll be there in a heartbeat. You can count on us. We won't let you down, darlin’.” Bucky tenderly brushed her cheek.

***

Celine wasn't sure what woke her, but she came to with a start and jumped, and hissed in pain. Her side itched something fierce. Her ribs ached. Her head pounded, and she was so damn hungry she felt like the entire population of the school wouldn't be enough to fill the void.

“Celine?”

“Charles?”

A wave of relief filled her mind followed by the Professor’s tired sigh. “You're awake. How bad are you hurt, darling?”

“Took a hit with an energy weapon and fell… two stories I think.”

“Ghealach beag,” he sighed, “You scared me bald.”

“You were already bald when I met you, Charles,” Celine chuckled. “Did you tie Logan to your wheelchair to keep him there? I almost expected to wake up and find him snarling at my bedside.”

“He doesn't know. I felt it best to see how you made out first. Considering how well his last visit went…”

“Mm,” she hummed. “The fridge still has a dent.”

“You need to feed, darling girl. Soon.”

“Charles, I'm not going anywhere for a while.” Celine thrust a hand into her hair and frowned at the dry crunchy feeling.

“Find a way. I know you don't like the idea, but you may need to use a teammate.”

“Charles…”

“Celine, you stubborn woman! I will send Logan and Rogue the next time. You know how she feels about people who are unkind to you.”

The warning made her shiver. Rogue was a like a dog with a bone. An Akita who had no problem biting the hands of those around her when it came to Celine.

“No one is unkind.”

“Liar,” was his parting remark as he faded away.

It appeared Logan had ratted her out. Or ratted Natasha out. But the Professor’s morals wouldn’t allow him to intervene unless Natasha was a danger to herself or someone else. So far, as far as Charles knew, it was only words exchanged with a woman whose jealousy was out of control.

Celine slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed. The IV had been removed from her hand, not that the fluid drip had been doing much more than delivering the painkillers to her system. Fluids were not what her body needed.

She needed a feed. She needed a hot sexual encounter or really good erotic dream to feed off of, but the group as a whole were like prudish virgins. None of these people ever got laid, besides Tony, but he didn’t live on the same floor as the rest of them. Not that she’d feed off a teammate, no matter what Charles said.

Pushing cautiously to her feet, Celine wobbled a little but remained mostly stable when Bruce came charging through the door.

“Dammit, woman! What are you doing?”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Celine murmured, pulling the blanket off the bed and wrapping it around herself before heading slowly for the door.

“It’s right there.” Bruce pointed the opposite direction. “Then you get back in that bed and stay there.”

“Bruce.” Celine paused to pat his cheek. “You’ve done everything you can to help me. The rest is up to me, but first I’d like to take a shower, put on real pajamas, and sleep six or seven hours in my own bed.”

“Celine…” he started but sighed when she arched a brow and walked past him. “At least let me help you to your room.”

“That I will gladly accept.” She linked her hand through his arm and leaned on him as they made their way slowly through the quiet halls and into the elevator. “Must be late.”

“It is. You slept most of the day.” He glanced her way. “Is that normal?”

“Yes. Reabsorbing my phoenix saved my life. I fed while on the mission and was in peak shape. If I had to fall, this was the time to do it. I’m running on fumes, but I’m too tired to do anything about it right now. Healing like this takes a lot of energy.”

“You don’t look well,” he murmured. Then his eyes widened. “I-I didn’t mean- it’s just you always look so good- I mean-”

She laughed, and he stopped talking. “I get it, Bruce. I’ve got eyes to see how bad I look.” The mirrored doors of the elevator reflected her image back to her.

When the doors opened, a blushing Bruce helped her down the hall into her room where she removed the blanket from her shoulders and handed it back.

“You gonna be okay to shower?” he asked.

Celine smiled as seductively as she could manage. “You inviting yourself to join me, Bruce?”

He turned a whole new shade of red. “No! No, I, uh… fuck.”

She giggled and patted his hand. “I’m just getting your goat, Bruce. I’ll be fine. If something happens, I’m sure Friday will let you know.”

“Alright, but if you need anything, you tell Friday to get me.”

“Will do,” she nodded and shut the door. Celine took a moment to breathe through the pain before making her way to her bedroom.

***

Sitting on the couch in Bucky’s room, the two super soldiers watched Clint thrust a hand through his hair before dragging the same hand down his face. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with her, Cap. It was like Nat was a completely different person. She actually considered leaving Celine behind.”

“Something’s got to give,” Bucky murmured. “Maybe Stark’s right. Maybe she needs to go be a SHIELD asset for a while.”

“I just don’t know.” Steve stood and walked to the windows. “I want to know what this is about. Nat’s worked with people she didn’t care for before and was completely professional. This? I don’t know what this is anymore.”

“Me either,” Clint agreed pushing to his feet. “Laura’s gonna skin me being late.”

“Thanks for sticking around. You can tell her it was my fault for asking for a debrief.”

“Steve, she won’t really,” Clint grinned. “I’m gonna swing by medical and see Celine before I go.”

“She’s probably still out of it,” Bucky said.

“Either way, still gonna stop.” Clint nodded and headed out the door, pulling it closed behind him.

“She’ll need to feed soon,” Steve murmured absently.

“Think she’ll let us help?”

He shot Bucky a look. “Does she ever?”

The buzzing of his phone stopped Bucky from saying anything more, but when Steve pulled it from his pocket, he winced. “The Professor.”

“Glad it’s you not me he’s going to tear a new one in.”

“Thanks, pal.” Steve flipped him off before answering the phone. “Professor Xavier, if this is about Celine I-”

“Just got back from your latest mission. I am aware, Captain. I have already spoken with Celine, and while it is she I wish to speak with you about, I have no intentions of “tearing you a new one” as Sergeant Barnes so eloquently put it.”

Steve stiffened. “Are you… how did you… are you messing with our heads?” he asked, clenching his fist.

“Captain,” Charles soothed, “I wished to discuss a matter of great importance with you, but one of great secrecy, and sent my conscious ahead to be certain you were alone or with the Sergeant. Celine’s feelings for you both are quite clear to me. I believe you can be trusted with her secret.”

“Like hell they can,” Logan muttered in the background.

“Secret?” Returning to the couch, Steve sat and set the phone on the table. He didn’t transfer it to speaker as neither of them needed the volume increased, and if Charles was telling them something in confidence, he had no desire for the information to be overheard. By anyone, and right now that meant Natasha.

“Come now, Captain. You’re a smart man. I’m certain a few things about Celine are no longer adding up.”

“Well,” Bucky grumbled.

“Ask your question, Sergeant.”

“If she can feed on emotions, how come she’s throwing up negative ones? Why did Logan say living here was hurting her? Shouldn't this all be a fucking smörg?”

“Because she does not feed on negative emotions,” Charles murmured. “She can, but as she has put it, it is like living on a diet of fast food. She can survive, but it isn’t healthy for her.”

They exchanged a startled look. “So… all this time, she’s been getting sicker?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck!” burst from Bucky, but Steve waved him to be quiet. Instead, Bucky thrust to his feet and went and poured himself an entire glass of whiskey, made to return, thought about, turned back and poured a second.

Steve nodded gratefully when the second was shoved in his hand. “Then what kind of emotion does she feed on?”

“Sexual.”

A snort had whiskey coming out Bucky’s nose, while Steve bobbled his glass and slopped it over his hand. “Beg pardon?” he asked as Bucky coughed and choked and went for a towel.

“Sexual energy. Celine is, for lack of a better label, a succubus.”

The couch bounced when Bucky threw himself down on it. “Holy shit.”

Charles chuckled softly. “It was easy for her here. What better place for a succubus than a school full of sexually maturing teenagers.”

“Horny little bastards,” came Logan’s muffled voice.

Half the whiskey went down Steve’s throat, and he hissed at the burn. “Why are you telling us this when she wanted to keep it secret?”

“Celine had a difficult time growing up. Her home life was a tragedy too often survived by the children of this country. I brought her to the school to teach and train her and offer her a home. Instead, she was an outcast. Her need to feed off others stuck her with that horrible nickname. Energy vampire. Bah!” he huffed. “What she is is a unique, powerful mutant. Beautiful and deadly. Her skills and abilities are a gift best used for the forces of good. I sent her to you because I know of your tolerance, your gift to simply accept what is placed before you and continue on. I admire that in you, Captain. And though Sergeant Barnes is a suspicious fellow, he is also compassionate. Celine needed to find a family to accept her. I had hoped that would be the Avengers.”

“We’re trying,” Steve murmured.

“I am aware of the difficulty, Captain. Both on her part and that of Miss Romanoff. I won’t tell you how to run your facility, but I will warn you. Celine has been pushed to breaking before. It never ends well for the person doing the pushing.”

“Understood.” Steve took another long drink. “Why tell us about her preferred, uh, food source?” He shrugged and looked at Bucky who arched an amused brow.

“She needs to eat. Now. Tonight. It cannot wait.”

“And just what do you expect us to do about it?” Bucky grumbled. “She’s as pigged headed as the Hulk. We could offer to take her out, but I doubt she’ll do what’s needed when one or both of us are standing there watchin’.”

A heavy sigh sounded from the phone. “I would ask that you… that the two of you… you need to…”

“For Christ sake!” Logan snapped. “Gimme’ that!” There was a scuffle as Logan took the phone from Charles. “She needs to eat. You two need to feed her.”

“Huh?” Steve frowned.

“Fuck are you blond. Jack off! Rub one out. Tug the short arm, whatever you want to call it. You two meatheads need to get off so she can eat!”

“Logan!” Charles gasped. Another scuffle ensued as Charles stole the phone back. “I beg your pardon, gentlemen for Logan’s vulgarity, but he isn’t wrong. Celine can feed off sexual release achieved through masturbation just as easily as two people having a sexual encounter.”

Red-faced, Steve avoided looking at Bucky and wished now he hadn’t finished the whiskey. “And, uh… just how are we supposed to accomplish that when she’s in medical, and we’re… not?”

“She’s bullied your doctor into returning to her room.”

“And how the fuck do you know that?” Bucky growled.

“Sergeant, Celine, Logan, and Rogue are the children I never had. They are my family. If you think I did not instantly know when she was injured, you are poorly misinformed. There is little I will not do for her, and after speaking with Celine, I knew she would show her stubborn streak and retreat to her room to lick her wounds in solitude. It is her way.”

“Friday, locate Celine?” Steve murmured.

“Miss Ena is in her room.”

“There you go, boys! Take one for the team!” Logan shouted.

“Logan!” Charles snapped. “Get out!” Indistinct mumbling was heard before a door slammed. “Again, my apologies. He is angry I didn’t tell him Celine was injured and refused to let him return to the tower.”

“Still a dent in the fridge from last time,” Steve said, fiddling with his fingers. “Look, Professor…”

“Captain. Whatever Celine tells you, she nearly died today. She will be starving. If you consent, it won’t matter if she’s sleeping like the dead. She won’t be able to resist the pull. She will feed from the hall as she used to at the school, and she needs it. She’ll need it for a few days.”

“And the effect on us?” Bucky asked. He shrugged when Steve shot him a glare.

“Minimal. She’s not feeding on you directly, but on the burst of energy with your culmination. That languid, lethargic feeling of release will still result, and you will likely sleep quite well. Drink an extra glass of water, you should both be fine.”

“Can I ask one more question?” Steve said before they ended this informative but highly mortifying conversation.

“Of course, Captain.”

“Are her powers the reason there is this intense… pull between her and us?”

“Pull?”

“The three of us will be together, uh, alone and there’s just a slow build up of, well…”

“Explosive desire,” Bucky snickered.

Charles was silent for a moment before speaking. “To some extent, yes. Her allure is always strong unless she consciously turns it down, but what you’re describing? That is something more.”

“What more?” Steve asked.

“That, Captain, I don’t know yet. Give me time to do some research.” He hung up without a farewell.

Bucky shoved to his feet and headed for the door.

“Where you going, Buck?”

He smirked from the doorway. “What? You think I’m gonna sit here and rub one out with you? You ain’t my type, Rogers.”

“So you’re really…”

“You’re not?” he frowned. “She needs to eat. It’s been a while since I got my rocks off. Kill two birds.” He shrugged and shut the door behind him as he left. Seconds later he was back. “The fuck, punk! This is my room! Get the hell out!”

Steve laughed all the way to his room.

Next Chapter

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[charlesxavirs]

Ohohohoh! Please, if you want to I won't make you I'm sorry- Stenbrough? That's my actual shit and I love it but if you for any reason I will be okay I'm so sorry I'm a literal mess.

okay so i’ve had this written for ages and i’ve tried to expand on it and write more but it’s just never really happened so i might as well just post it. hope you enjoy! read on ao3 )

Stanley Uris considered himself a man of many talents. He could recite well detailed spiel about any bird at the drop of a hat, he had got washing his clothes down to a precise science so none of the colours would even dare to run, and he had to admit that he was quite flexible, although he wouldn’t ever admit that on a first date. Yet, despite his vehement efforts, despite his dedication and despite his might, he cannot get fucking glitter out of his hair. He’s tried washing it, brushing it, even vacuuming it once with Eddie’s careful guidance. He dreads the days when it is inexplicably part of his routine, and he prays and prays and prays that he’ll be able to get it out of his curly locks come bedtime.

He never fucking does, though.

And so, Stan was in a foul mood as he pulled up in the parking lot this morning at precisely five minutes to seven. As usual, he was the second car in the lot and he took the time to count the binders on his passenger seat again before he gathered them in his arms, to make sure he had replied to any emails he had to and ran over his lesson plans in his head before stepping out of the car and making his way towards the staff entrance of the small elementary school.

Just as he had expected, Ben was sat behind his desk at the main office, looking bleary eyed as he sipped at his coffee and flipped through papers that Stan would ask about if it wasn’t so early in the morning and if Ben didn’t look so tired. Stan threw him a smile and waved at him the best he could with his arms full, a wave of fondness washing over him as Ben offered him a bright smile in spite of his fatigue, and he started his trek along the red bricked corridor to his classroom.

Stan had started teaching just four years ago, starting off with Kindergarten kids at Derry Elementary before moving to the fifth grade the year after, and he’s stayed there ever since. His psychology degree was supposed to lead Stan into the world of therapy, yet instead, he got pulled into early years development, which ultimately led to him training to be a teacher. His father was more than displeased at sudden change in career choice, hoping his son would be a hotshot shrink in no time, but Donald Uris had to admit that it was nice to have Stan close to home. He also had to admit that Stan was good at his job.

The kids loved him. They giggled at his sarcastic remarks, groaned at him whenever he set homework and were unafraid to come to him with their 10-year-old problems, seeking his fair judgement and level headed advice. Yes, Stan Uris loved his kids dearly, he even admitted to shedding a tear here and there when his classes finally left for middle school, and he’d be damned if they weren’t going to grow up in a safe and loving place. The thought of packing it in and walking the career path his parents had hoped he would pave after college was a tempting one when he came home with stack after stack of homework sheets and essays and school books, but the way the kids eyes would light up when they saw his neatly written praise on their last homework assignment was more than enough to quash the idea. In short, Stan loved his class, and his class loved him.

Stan pushed open his classroom door with his shoulder and blindly searched the cold wall with nimble fingers until they settle on the light switch, and he flooded the room with the white, artificial glare of the ceiling lights. He walked the well known path to his desk at the front of the room, reaching down to pick up a stray pencil by his chair after he set his folders down on the clutter free table. He took pride in his classroom, keeping it clean and tidy at all times. An untidy working space means an untidy mind, his mother had always told him, and he very much believed it to be true.

Over the summer, he had spent a full day painting new displays on the walls, changing the colour scheme of the room from light yellow to sky blue, penning sparrows onto the walls with help from Richie. All of his pencils had been sharpened, papers organised, glue sticks neatly stacked and reading books tidily arranged on shelves.

“You’re like Mary Poppins when she does all that clicky shit.” Richie had astutely commented, trying to snap his fingers for added effect, but he somehow ended up punching himself in the face.

Stan wished Richie took the same pride in his own classroom instead of giving Stan shit for doing so himself. Richie was content to replace the framed picture of Bill Nye above his desk with an updated snap and buy a new board pen every year. He loved his friend dearly, but he often wonders how he even became qualified to teach, considering he was a health hazard on legs, always tripping over chair legs or barely skimming the children’s faces when he got too animated with his hand movements. Stan had been teaching for a year longer than Richie had but he had known Richie all of his life. In fact, Stan likes to credit himself as the guiding force for getting him off his ass and into the workforce.

It had been a Sunday, when they were both Juniors at UCLA, and Stan was putting the finishing touches to his project for his Primary Education class. He was sat cross legged on the floor of his cramped apartment, blasting Abba, the ground in front of him covered in newspaper as he dabbed his project delicately with his one dollar paintbrush and paint. Everything was peaceful in the world of Stan, that was, until Richie bounded through the door in a whirlwind of neon colours and unruly hair, already speaking at one hundred miles per hour.

“Stanley the Manley, you’ll never believe what the fuck just happened. So i’m sat there, enjoying my weekly Dorito date with that weird guy down the street and- what the flippity fuck is that?”

Stan looked up at him, carefully setting his brush down on the newspaper and moving curls out of his eyes, following Richie’s gaze down to his project, standing sturdily in front of Stan.

“It’s homework.” Stan said, stretching his stiff arms above his head. “It’s a fish.”

Before he knew it, Richie was kneeling on the floor next to Stan, eye to eye with his papier-mache creation, staring it out with trepidation in his gaze.

“So I’ve gotta do a shit ton of consumer research just to have the chance to grace the airwaves, but all you’ve gotta do is make a fish?” Richie whined, sitting back on his heels and pouting at Stan. He reached out his hand to touch, but Stan quickly swatted it away before leaning back down to apply another coat of purple paint to his aquatic masterpiece.

“If you’re that bothered, why don’t you train to become a teacher, Trashmouth.” Stan chastised, ignoring the ‘humph’ that escaped Richie’s as he watched him paint. Stan never actually expected him to do it. He had turned up at Stan’s door almost a year to the day later, holding a handmade dog, wearing a bowtie and donning a kippah on over its curly ears. Stan had answered the door with a hand on his hip, eyebrow raised. Richie had only grinned, his cheeks turning red with the force of him holding back a laugh at his own joke.

“It’s a Cocker Staniel.”

Stan slammed the door in his face.

And now here they were, almost five years later, Richie running late as usual and Stan dreading the looming presence of glitter on his Thursday morning.

Parent-Teacher conferences were the bane of Stan’s existence. He held two every year, one in October while the kids were relatively new in the class and one later on in the year, normally before they left. Usually, the parents didn’t care at all or seemingly cared too much, berating Stan for things as trivial as how he worded homework sheets to the way he dressed. The sheer stress of such things meant that Stan spent the short hour between school ended and his first appointment with Eddie, the school nurse, drinking juice boxes with an ice pack held securely to his head while they chatted aimlessly and watched reruns of Judge Judy on the room’s shitty TV set. This year, though, was going to be the first time he’d handle the parents smoothly and professionally, and he certainly wasn’t going to have a breakdown in his store cupboard afterwards. No way.

He heaved in a sigh, revelling in the slight burn of his lungs as he drank in the air. It was getting closer to half past now, and Stan finally started to get into gear, setting up for the day, refusing to look at the offending vials of metallic crap until he had to. It was 8:55 when Richie finally pulled up outside, fifteen minutes later than he usually was, and he didn’t even afford himself the luxury of mithering Stan as he sprinted down the corridor, hands full of boxes and slammed his classroom door behind him. Richard Tozier was well suited to be a second grade teacher, Stan thought, considering he was a second grader himself.

He opened his door at 8:59, only just making it back to his desk before the whiny ring of the school bell flooded his ears and children started to walk through the door, unbuttoning their coats as they bid him good morning, groaning as they saw what Stan had written on the whiteboard, and Stan couldn’t help but smirk. If they were going to destroy his classroom and his life with pipe cleaners and glitter glue, he was going to make their brains explode with maths.

--

Stan was sticky by the time 4:30 rolled by. In an effort to make his class a bit more cheerful, he had allowed them to make name tags for their books and work so their parents could easily identify them that evening. He hadn’t, however, thought it was such a good idea when Timothy Jones had walked into him with a full pot of PVA glue, subsequently spilling it down his neatly pressed chinos, covering them in a shiny, brown stain that was going to be a bitch to get out. He couldn’t possibly greet parents looking like there had been an oil spill on his trousers, so in a last resort to gain some semblance of put togetherness, he went knocking on Richie’s door.

“Woah there Stanley,” he grinned as he cut what looked like a melted dinosaur out of a piece of blue card, adding it to a pile of similarly drawn jurassic creatures. “Looks like someone didn’t make it to the can in time. Say, I didn’t know you were into watersports.”

Stan didn’t dignify him with a response, instead sighing and muttering a halfhearted ‘Beep Beep’. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any pants, have you?”

Stan should have known to fear the worse as Richie’s face lighted up with mirth and he spoke to Stan with his Southern Belle drawl.

“Well, Sir, I surely surely do.”

And that’s how Stan ended up sat behind his desk, listening to parents talk about their kids as if they were the only ones on the planet, wearing a pair of hot pink yoga pants that barely fitted him, never mind Richie.

(“Where the fuck did you get these?” “They’re Eddie Spaghetti’s. I-” “Never mind, I’d rather not know.”)

He nodded empathetically as they talked about their children, resisted the urge to roll his eyes as they told him how to do his job, but under no circumstances did he stand up from the table. Propriety be damned, he didn’t want to be fired for public indecency.  He was almost done at five minutes to six, his schedule closely adhered to, and if all went well, he’d be in bed by seven. He only had one appointment left, and he let himself relax in his chair, straightening his papers and ticking off names as he waited.

Five minutes passed. And then ten. And then fifteen. It was quarter past six, and he was still waiting for his last appointment to turn up. A pang of annoyance gnawed at Stan. He had been preparing for this for over a month and the parents didn’t even have the decency to listen to him talk about their own kids, for God’s sake. Huffing, he started to pack away, stuffing sheets back into their binders when a ball of emerald and auburn and brown came charging through the door with a small boy in tow.

“I’m so s-sorry, I thought Noah’s mother was coming instead.” the man groaned, panting as he ran a hand through his son’s hair.

He quickly caught his breath and made his way in front of Stan, offering him his hand to shake. If Stan wasn’t so annoyed, he would have noticed the way his blue eyes sparkled or the warmth of his touch or the way his mouth quirked as he spoke. But Stan was irritated, so instead he shook the man’s hand and refused to look at him as he pulled his sheets back out. Stan quickly realised, though, that Noah was stood next to his father, grinning up at Stan.

He quickly softened, smiling back at the boy. Noah was a boisterous member of his class, yes, but he was polite and was quiet when Stan needed him to be and often had an amusing anecdote about his Aunt Bev and Uncle Georgie. Noah Phillips-Denbrough was a good kid, and Stan liked him very much.

“Hey buddy.” he greeted as Noah waved back, his grin widening as he shot back an exuberant ‘hi!’, almost shaking as he gripped to his father’s arm.

Looking at the pair now, Stan could obviously see the family ties. He had had a few dealings with Audra Phillips, and from what Stan could gather, she was a reserved woman who only seemed to speak when she was spoken to, quite unlike her son, who was rowdy to say the least. While Noah had inherited his mother’s swarthy skin and tightly coiled locks, it was easy to see his father in him. Their eyes both lit up in the same carefree way when Stan looked at them and the smile on their faces seemed to be permanent. That, and the blue hue of their eyes were almost identical. While Stan knew divorce often made kids shrink into themselves, Noah had done anything but, and he thinks Mr. Denbrough had been part of the reason why.

“Sorry we’re so late, Mr Uris.” Noah beamed, no evidence of regret traceable on his face, and Stan’s grin involuntarily widened.

“Don’t worry about it Noah.” he said, throwing him a wink that made the young boy dissolve into giggles. “Hey, why don’t you go and finish your drawing from today while I chat to your dad?” he suggested, and Noah didn’t have to be asked twice before he was sitting at one of the rickety desks and scribbling away.

Stan turned his attention back to the man in front of him, cutting him off with a wave of his hand as he tried to speak again, probably to apologise again. “Why don’t we get started, Mr Denbrough.”

“Bill, please.” he insisted, and the smile on his face had Stan repressing a blush.

“Okay then, Bill,” Stan didn’t miss the man’s chuckle, “Let’s talk about Noah’s progress so far.”

In all fairness to Stan, he was completely professional from there on in, only making eye contact when appropriate, never letting himself stray from the topic of Bill’s son, and he certainly didn’t let himself get excited when Bill pushed the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. Stanley Uris was a paragon of a teacher, answering questions thoughtfully and easily. So what if Bill’s appointment lasted twenty minutes longer than it should have, it’s not like Stan was counting.

It went so well, however, that Stan had ignored one huge, almighty, dirty big fat flaw. He had completely forgotten that nothing good ever happens to him, and sooner or later, it was all going to go tits up. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long for it to happen.

“Thanks a lot for seeing us, Mr Uris.” Bill had a smile on his face and his voice was dripping with an appreciation that had Stan blushing.

Stan waved his hand in front of him, turning to smile at Noah, who was once again glued to Bill’s side. “Thank you guys for coming.” He shot him a small wink, making the boy beam up at him.

When he turned back to Bill, there was a look clouding his piercing eyes that Stan couldn’t quite decipher, yet it made the warmth on his cheeks deepen further, and before he knew it, Bill was standing out of his chair, arm out in front of him to shake, and Stan was following suit.

He only realised what a huge fuck up it was when Noah burst into fits of giggles.

“Mr. Uris why are your pants pink?” he squeaked out in between laughs, clutching onto Bill’s arm to hold himself up.

Stan’s cheeks burned now, and he was pretty sure you could see him in the dark with the intensity of his blush. He glanced at Bill out of the corner of his eye, surprised to find that his cheeks were the colour of his pants, and he didn’t miss the way his eyes ran over Stan’s somewhat scantily clad legs.

He cleared his throat, the deep bass of his chuckle reverberating in Stan’s chest as he pushed a stray strand of auburn hair from his eyes. “The pink suits you.”

All Stan could do was limply shake the man’s hand, squeak out a pathetic goodbye and usher the pair hastily from the room.

He let his head fall with a thunk against the pink painted door as he shut it closed behind them. Stan had prided himself on keeping himself composed for the past five years, no matter how hard it was. He had people complain about him when his shirt sleeves were too short or when the amount of time designated to reading was deemed ‘questionable’. The way Stan was feeling now had to stop. Yes, he’d had crushes before, but never on a parent. It was hard enough for him being gay in Derry, it was even harder to try to be so and teach at the same time. The last thing he needed was a silly schoolboy crush to come along and wreck the order he’d created.

So, Stan did what he usually did when he’s had, what he’d consider, a stressful day: go home, eat a shit ton of ice cream and watch Say Yes To The Dress until his eyes melt.

Thank God it’s Friday.

[hymn2000]

Chiquitita - MCU AU fanfic - C7

Story summary: Something strange is happening. Someone from space has made their way to Earth, armed with a strange weapon. Targeting teenagers, their ray gun, when fired, turns the victim into a toddler. The Avengers set out to stop this, and find a way to reverse the effects. However, they don’t all come out of the battle unscathed.

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: de-aging, family stuff, corporal punishment (early chapters only), mental health stuff, hurt/comfort

Chapter 7 -  Only A Week Since We Started

-

By Saturday, Loki was feeling completely burned out. He’d been looking after Peter pretty much on his own for almost a week, and he was exhausted. In some ways, it was getting easier: he knew Peter’s quirks and he’d figured out a routine for him. But he and Tony barely talked, and Tony was still essentially pretending all this wasn’t happening. It was easy to feel isolated, even with a talkative toddler around.

-

Loki’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey Loki. It’s Clint”

“Oh!”

“I said I’d call in about a week. How’s it going?”

“Ah” Loki said, glancing over at Peter, who was busy scribbling on an old newspaper with wax crayons. “Well. Peter’s doing ok. He seems healthy and happy enough”

“And Tony?”

Loki went quiet. He wasn’t sure how to put it.

“That bad, eh?” Clint said. 

“He’s been awful” Loki said. “I’ve never seen him like this”

“What, is he panicking?”

“A bit”

“What’s he been like? Giving the kid coffee? Refusing to stick to bedtime?”

“I’d prefer that, honestly” Loki sighed heavily. “He’s been useless. He’s basically ignored Peter all week. He won’t do anything for him. He won’t help put him to bed or bath him, he won’t play with him, he won’t hug him. Heck, he won’t even talk to him most of the time. It’s upsetting Peter, and it’s upsetting me. I want to kill him”

“You’re joking, right?”

“I wish I was” Loki said grimly. “I’ve barely seen him. I honestly don’t know what I can do about it. I’m going to burn out, and if that happens, where does that leave Peter?”

“You’ve got people who will help, but Tony needs to step up”

“I know, but it doesn’t matter what I say, he won’t put in the effort. For the first few days he wouldn’t even cook for him. He’s got better there; he’s been cooking in the evenings, making stuff Peter can eat, but that’s about it. He won’t do anything for him directly”

“Can I offer some advice?” 

Loki sighed. “Sure. I suppose it couldn’t hurt”

“You need to give him a good kick. Metaphorically speaking” Clint said. “You’ve gotta force him into it”

“And how exactly do you suggest I do that?”

“Don’t give him any choice in the matter” Clint said. “Find him, tell him that tonight, you’re having some time for yourself, and so he’ll need to look after Peter”

“I don’t think that will go down too well”

“Doesn’t matter. Let him whine and bitch about it, but keep to your word. Don’t step in at all after you’ve gone off for your me time. Don’t give him any option but to step up and be a dad” 

Loki thought for a moment. “Would that work?”

“Only one way to find out” Clint said. “There’s no reason for you to act single parent. So, Tony being a twat aside, how’s parenting a toddler going?”

“Being a parent is hard, I always knew that, but parenting a toddler is hard in a different way. It’s a whole different ball game. He’s not a bad kid. He’s a wiggly little thing, but he’s not so mischievous as I expected. He’s quite good, really. He’s really funny” Loki laughed slightly. “He’s a strange little thing, but he’s so cute. Unbelievably cute. He’s always laughing”

“Aww, I’m glad he’s well-behaved. No major incidents then? Any spider powers?”

“Thankfully not!” Loki said. “I don’t know how I’d cope with a toddler who could literally climb walls. I don’t know why he doesn’t have the powers, but, well, he doesn’t. As for incidents... Well. He ruined a box of bath salts, and he made an almighty mess of his room after that first night, but thankfully those are the main ones so far. He’s quite easy to distract with his rocket and a DVD, fortunately. All the other things that have gone wrong are just general kids stuff, I think, or errors on my part”

“Bless! He did look mighty cute cuddled up to that rocket when I saw him. So, what does he fuss about? All mine hated something at that age. How is he with baths?”

“Well, we nearly had a disaster the first time, but I invested in a non-slip mat, so we’ve had no repeats. But no, he’s fine with baths. He likes playing with his little boats and ducks. He’s not a huge fan of bedtime, though” Loki stopped a moment. “Ah. Maybe I shouldn’t give Tony that kick”

“Don’t turn into a pushover now, Loki. Tony’s more than capable of putting your kid to bed. He’ll have to learn somehow. He’ll probably be fine and know exactly what to when he’s in the situation, even if he insists beforehand that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. What if Peter’s a toddler for six months? Do you really want to struggle through everything on your own?”

“Mm, good point” Loki sighed. “I’ll do it. I’m just exhausted after this week”

“Where’s the kid now?”

“He’s in here with me”

“What’s he doing?”

“Drawing on a newspaper. I ought to get him some notebooks or colouring books... He doesn’t have much to do, Clint, and that worries me. Tony didn’t want to listen when I mentioned about getting him more toys. He’s got his cuddlies, and his bath toys, but that’s about it. He’s going to get bored soon”

“Yeah, and a bored toddler is a nightmare toddler, believe me. Can���t you go and get him stuff yourself? Or order stuff online?”

“I’d like to let him choose. Plus, it’d annoy Tony. And more importantly, I can’t really get there”

“What, the big toy shops?”

“Well, I can get there, but you really need a car if you’re buying lots of things, and I’ve not got a license for Tony’s motors: only my motorbike. I can’t exactly stick Peter on that. I need Tony helping”

“When Tony’s settled and started pulling his weight, get onto him about it”

“It might be ages. I don’t know if he’ll step up”

Clint cleared his throat. “Hey, can I visit? I’ll bring him something to play with if Tony’s still being a dick in a couple of days”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that one. I’m not too sure about having visitors while things are so tense here: it might just make Tony kick off more” 

“Ok, well, keep me updated. I care about the kid; we all do” Clint said. “I mean what I said: I’ll help. Give Peter a little hug from me, ok?”

“I will. Listen, thanks for checking in. I do appreciate it. It’s been very isolating, this week”

“Yeah, I get it” Clint said. “It must be weird, losing all those conversations and jokes you had with Peter. Before the whole ray gun thing. And being on bad terms with Tony? You two are always so close; it’s weird thinking about you two being annoyed at each other. Kick him into gear tonight, and it’ll be fine”

“I’ll give it a good go. I’d enjoy an evening reading and an early night or something like that. Tony’s going to have to sort himself out sooner or later. I’ve already had to blow off the hospital”

“What, really?!”

“Yes, I rang them, and of course they know what’s happened, but I told them anyway, and said I wouldn’t be in for the foreseeable future. I had a feeling Tony wouldn’t be up to looking after a child he’d been ignoring while I disappeared in my scrubs... Clint, if I tell you something, it stays between us, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. I still value my life” 

Loki laughed slightly. “Good. Now, this is going to sound really bad, and it’s nothing I’ve ever thought before, but... Right now? I don’t trust Tony with Peter”

Clint was quiet for a moment. “I don’t blame you. You’re both scared. See how you feel tomorrow morning. Force Tony to take the reins for tonight. Say goodnight to Peter, and make yourself scarce for the evening. And report back to me: I wanna know if my idea pays off”

“Ok, ok. I’ll do it, for myself as well as the family"

“Good. Kick that stubborn bastard into shape. He’s a good dad. Make him remember that”

Loki nodded. “Yeah, yeah, he can’t slack off forever”

“Daddy, daddy!” Peter was suddenly in front of him, tugging at his trouser leg. “Daddy!”

“Hold on a second, Clint” Loki lowered the phone. “What’s the matter, chick?”

“Thirsty! I need a drink” 

“Ok sweetheart, just a second” he put the phone back to his ear. “I’ve got to go”

“I heard. You get off. Talk to you later”

“Yes, talk to you later. Goodbye”

“Bye!”

He put the phone down, and picked Peter up, giving him a cuddle.

“This is from Uncle Clint” he said. “He told me to give you a hug from him”

“Oh!” Peter giggled. “Uncle Clint!”

“He might come for a visit in a few days” Loki said, setting Peter down, standing up, and taking his hand. “Let’s go and get you a drink, little pal”

“Apple juice!”

“I don’t think we’ve got any left, darling” Loki said. “How about something else? How about... chocolate milkshake?”

“Wow! Yes please!”

Loki smiled, squeezing Peter’s hand. “Ok, chicken. Let’s get you sorted”

-

Loki put Peter down for his nap, and then went to find Tony. 

“Hello, gorgeousness” Tony said. “What’s up?”

“I’m having some time to myself tonight” Loki said. “After tea, the evenings mine”

“Ok” Tony said. 

“Which means you’ll have to look after Peter” Loki continued. “Give him his bath and put him to bed and stuff”

“Right”

Loki nodded. “Right. Ok. Good. I’ll see you in a bit”

“See you in a bit”

-

Loki was true to his word. Once he’d finished eating, he put the dirty plates and cutlery by the sink, and put the kettle on. He made himself a mug of tea, and shoved a packet of chocolate chip shortbread into his pocket. 

“Right, that’s me” he said.

“What?!” Tony said. “What do you mean?”

“Well, like I said earlier; I’m having an evening to myself” he kissed Tony on the cheek, and gave Peter a little cuddle. “Goodnight, chick. You be good for daddy”

“Wait, Loki-”

“Remember he needs his bath tonight. Goodnight, darlings. See you in the morning” Loki trilled, and he swept out of the room quickly.

Tony froze, looking at the tiny boy diagonally across from him at the breakfast bar. The little boy looked back at him. Tony stood up quickly and went over to the sink, turning the taps on. He watched the water gushing into the washing up bowl, and heard a thump. He spun round quickly, and found that Peter had fallen off his seat while trying to get down. The little boy started howling. 

“LOKI?!” Tony called, but of course received no answer. 

Tony bit his lip, unsure what to do. He knew one thing; he couldn’t deal with that squealing. He went over to the boy, standing above him.

“Are you going to stay there all night?” 

Peter just kept crying. He had a red mark on his forehead where he’d hit the tiles. Tony hoicked the boy up with an arm round the chest, and marched off to the room with the reading nook.

Loki glared at him when he came in.

“He’s hit his head” Tony said, thrusting the boy at him. 

Tony turned on his heel. Loki thrust a hand out quickly, and the door slammed shut.

“Don’t you dare walk away” Loki hissed. He looked back at Peter. “Let’s have a little look at you, sweetheart”

He checked Peter’s head, and after a little kiss and a cuddle, the boy stopped crying. Loki kissed him once more, and then stood up, putting Peter back in Tony’s arms. 

“There. Now, if you’d happily excuse me, I’d like to be left undisturbed for the rest of the night”

-

Tony put Peter down at the first opportunity. Peter found his rocket and quite happily played in the kitchen while Tony was doing the washing up. Tony took his time, wondering how dire the consequences would be if he simply put the toddler in with Loki and locked himself in the lab for the rest of the night. But Loki had been cross with him all week anyway, and he didn’t really want to risk a major fight. And he supposed there was no harm in his husband having a quiet evening. At least, he couldn’t think of any good reason to pull him out of it. He certainly couldn’t say he had to help look after the kid, not after he himself hadn’t done anything of the sort ever since the accident. That wasn’t ideal.

-

Once Tony had finished sorting the kitchen, he turned to the little boy. Peter had gotten hold of a wooden spoon, and was busy pushing his rocket round the kitchen with it.

“Loki- uh, daddy said you need a bath tonight” Tony said, not quite looking at the boy. 

Peter stopped what he was doing. “Why?”

Tony shrugged. “He just did. Probably better to get it over and done with. Come on”

Peter dropped the spoon and picked up his rocket. 

“Uh. Right. Let’s- let’s go to your room, to your bathroom” Tony said. 

“Why?”

“Because it’s bath time”

“Why?”

“Because it is. Stop asking silly questions and come with me”

Peter trotted after him, humming happily to himself. He stood bouncing on the balls of his feet when they got to the en suite, watching Tony. Tony didn’t feel great. He was kind of nervous. He’d bathed Peter before - big Peter. He wasn’t sure how different it would be bathing a toddler. He’d avoided him a lot, and he hadn’t talked much with Loki, so he wasn’t sure if he was a pain in the arse or not. He looked at the kiddie toiletries lined up on the edge of the bath. He looked at the duck-patterned anti-slip mat in the bath. He looked at the little basket of bath toys on the floor by the bath. He sighed, put the plug in, and turned the taps on. 

“I need a wee”

Tony turned round. “What?”

“I SAID, I need a WEE!”

“Oh. Uhh, ok, I’ll step out for a moment” Tony said, and wasted no time in doing so. 

He looked down at his feet as he stood outside the bathroom. He looked around the room. It was still Peter’s, with the big elephant and the trophies and photos and the school satchel in the corner. But along with all the normal Peter things, there were the two boxes of kids clothes. There were tiny slippers by the bed, tiny pyjamas folded at the end of it, a kids blanket, a tiny dressing gown hanging over the normal one on the back of the bedroom door, wax crayons littered on the floor, and a sippy cup on the bedside table. It was still all so strange and scary and weird. 

-

Peter started chattering to Tony when he came back into the en suite and turned the bath taps off. Tony didn’t really listen to anything he was saying, too deep in thought, still not entirely accepting what had happened to his son.

“Bath’s ready” he said.

Peter put his rocket down, and peered over the edge of the bath.

“There’s no snow” he said, plunging his arms into the water.

“Hey! You’ve still got your shirt on!” Tony snapped, pulling him back. “Yuck. You’ve absolutely soaked yourself”

Peter didn’t seem to care. He picked his rocket back up. Tony sighed irritably. 

“Whatever. Get your clothes off”

“What about my rocket?”

“What about it?”

“He needs to go on his launch pad”

Tony blinked at him. “What?”

“His launch pad! Up there!” Peter pointed at the soap dish. 

It took a moment for him to click. He took the toy rocket, and put it up on the soap dish. Peter smiled happily. 

“Right. Clothes”

“Um...”

Peter looked down at himself, shuffling on his feet. Tony sighed.

“What?”

Peter blinked at him. Tony sighed again, and tugged the boys clothes off impatiently. Peter squeaked and whined.

“Stop whimpering” Tony said. “It’s only a bath”

“It’s a rubbish bath! It doesn’t even have any snow!”

Tony ignored him. He grabbed the boy under the arms and put him into the bath. Peter squawked at him. 

“Too hot!”

“Don’t be silly”

“IT’S TOO HOT!!” Peter yelled, trying to scramble out of the bath. “TOO HOT, TOO HOT, TOO HOT!!!”

Tony growled in annoyance, grabbing the boy and plonking him down on the bathroom mat. He turned the cold tap back on.

“Stop squeaking”

“TOO HOT!”

“You’re not even in it anymore” Tony grumbled, sticking his hand into the bath.

Hmm. It was quite hot further down. Maybe it really was too hot for the little tyke. He kept the cold water running until he was sure it had cooled throughout, and then he turned the tap off.

“Right, it’s not hot now” he said, taking hold of Peter.

Peter squealed. “No! No, don’t want to! Too hot, too hot!”

“I’ve just put cold in it!” Tony said, forcing the wriggling toddler back into the water.

Peter still squealed a moment longer, but then went quiet when he realised it wasn’t too hot anymore. Tony grabbed a beaker and filled it from the bath. He put a hand on Peter’s forehead, shielding his eyes, tipped his head back, and poured the water over his head. Peter squeaked indignantly, bringing his little hands down on the surface of the water, splashing Tony.

“Hey!” Tony said, drawing back. ��Don’t do that!”

Peter did it again. And again. Tony grabbed his wrists.

“I said don’t!”

Peter shook his head vigorously, spraying Tony with water that way. Tony let go of him, grabbing a towel to dry his face and dab ineffectively at his damp shirt. 

“Thanks for that” he grumbled. “I need to wash you, so stay still”

“No! Staying still is boring!”

Tony glared at him, and then remembered the little box of bath toys. He took the big yellow rubber duck from the top, and handed it to the toddler.

“Here”

Peter took it in both hands, and promptly stuck its beak in his mouth. He went quiet, looking up at Tony with his big puppy-dog eyes.

“Aww” Tony said, before he could stop himself. “You’re actually kinda sweet when you’re quiet...”

Peter didn’t say anything. Tony hesitantly reached out, shielding the boys eyes with his hand again and tipping his head back.

“Stay still, ok?”

“Ok, daddy” Peter said, a little indistinct as he was still chewing on his toy.

Tony poured another cup of water over the boys head, and then reached for the bottle of shampoo. Peter was good while Tony washed his hair, distracted by the duck, which was still in his mouth. He whined a little when Tony rinsed the suds, but he didn’t make a big fuss. Tony breathed out in relief.

“There” Tony said, letting go of the boy and setting the beaker down. “Uhh. Right...” 

He picked up the new sponge and body wash. He could feel Peter watching him, which was a little off-putting. Maybe this was the bit of the bath the boy didn’t like. Tony prepared himself for screaming and squeaking and shouting, and began to wash the boy. 

Peter didn’t scream. He didn’t squeak, and he didn’t shout. He stayed perfectly quiet, letting himself be washed, and staring up at his dad intently. 

“There, that was ok, wasn’t it?” Tony said, once he’d finished. 

Peter took the ducks beak out of his mouth. “Yep”

“Yeah... Ok. Uh...” he looked at the bottles by the bath, thinking. “What else do we need to do?”

“Play”

Tony looked at him. “What?” 

“Play!” Peter repeated. “I wanna play!”

“Oh. Uh, well, I guess that’s ok..” he picked up a plastic boat and a rubber fish from the basket, and put them in the water. 

“I need another boat”

Tony gave him one, and then unfolded the little old folding chair and sat on it. He watched Peter playing. It was quite funny to see his little game, and hear the different voices he gave the different toys. Tony still didn’t exactly want to be there, but at least he had a relatively good kid to look after, and not a total screaming nightmare. He just had to get through the evening, and then the responsibility would be back over to Loki.

-

Tony hoicked Peter out of the bath and wrapped a towel round him. 

“Ok, right. I think it’s bedtime next”

“No it’s not!” Peter said. 

“Isn’t it?”

Peter shook his head. “It’s too early!”

Tony checked his watch. “Mm. I thought it was later, since we had that early tea. Uh. Maybe you should get into your pyjamas anyway”

“I wanna play”

“Right. Pyjamas first. So, uh, we need to get you dry”

He knelt down, taking the towel from round the boy and using it to rub him dry. Peter whined and wriggled a bit, especially while Tony was doing his hair. Tony tried to ignore him. He dragged a comb through the boys hair, which Peter made clear he hated, and then he released him, standing up.

“There, that’ll do” Tony said. “Now, uh, you stay here”

“Why??” Peter whined, still a little cross about how rough Tony had been while doing his hair. 

“I need to find you some pyjamas”

“Oh” Peter said, thinking for a moment. “I wanna wear the teddy one!” 

Tony remembered it. “Right”

“I need my rocket”

“Not until you’re decent”

“What does that mean?”

“Clothed” Tony said. “Stay right there; I’ll just be a minute”

Peter looked round the bathroom while Tony was gone. Other daddy always got out the big bottle of powder after baths, so Peter thought he’d help this daddy and find it. The trouble was, Peter couldn’t see it anywhere. It must be in the other room. The bathroom door had been left ajar, so he slipped out into the bedroom.

“Hey, I told you to stay put!” Tony snapped. 

“But it’s not in there!”

“What’s not in there?”

“The bottle”

“What bottle?!” Tony asked, starting to get agitated. 

“The big bottle of soft snow!”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about”

Peter pouted, jumping about and trying to see if it was on the top of one of his cabinets.

“For gods sake, stop thumping about like that! Come here; let’s get this on you”

“But what about the SNOW?!”

Tony took a very deep breath, and cleared his throat. “Tell me about this ‘snow’”

“Daddy uses it after bath time” Peter said. “It’s soft and white and makes you look all pale”

“Oh!” Tony said, clicking. “I think you mean baby powder”

He spotted the bottle on top of one of the cabinets, and took it down. He showed it to Peter.

“This?”

Peter nodded. “Soft snow!”

“Right. Uh, I don’t really think... Ok, powder and then pyjamas, I suppose”

“I wanna be a teddy bear!”

“Whatever, just hold still for a minute”

Tony still felt like he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He never used talc himself, so he wasn’t sure how much to use. As it happened, he ended up using far too much. Peter found it hilarious. He giggled like anything, clapping his little hands and dancing on his little feet.

“Snowstorm, snowstorm, snowstorm!” he chanted.

“Yeah, we’ll not use so much next time” Tony said, closing the bottle of powder and putting it back where he’d found it. “Right, uh, pyjamas”

“TEDDY BEAR!”

“Keep your voice down! Ok, teddy bear” he quickly found the onesie. “Ok, lets get you into this”

“TEDDY B-”

“Hey, I said keep your voice down! Now zip it”

Peter blinked at him, and stayed quiet while Tony got him into his nightclothes. Tony put the toddlers hood up.

“Oh wow. You’re... You’re really cute, aren’t you?”

“Guess what time it is!”

Tony blinked at him. “What?”

“Bear hug time!” Peter giggled, stretching his arms out. 

Tony looked at him, at this funny little toddler with bright eyes and fluffy damp curls. Slowly, he held his arms out, and the toddler fell into them, giggling happily. He hesitated, and then held him close. He felt so tiny. He was small and soft and sweet - but this wasn’t the person Tony had adopted, and Tony couldn’t shake that thought. He let go of the toddler quickly.

“Go play for a bit before bed” he said, standing up.

“Ok!” Peter grinned. “Can I have my rocket now?”

Tony went into the bathroom, grabbing the rocket toy and taking it back to him. Peter took it, hugging it to his chest, giggling.

“Thank you!”

Tony swallowed. “Right. Let’s go to the living room. You can play in there for a while”

Peter held his hand out to Tony. 

“You don’t need me holding your hand” Tony said, not quite looking at him. “You can just follow me”

Peter didn’t let it phase him. He just nodded, and trotted along with his rocket, making his funny little rocket noises. Tony tried not to look at him, tried not to listen to him. He felt all mixed up and weird, and he didn’t like it, not one bit.

-

Peter played quite boisterously. Tony didn’t really pay any attention. He flicked through the camera roll on his phone distractedly, looking at pictures of Peter - teenage Peter, his Peter - and feeling very lost indeed. 

By the time Tony was brought out of his deep thoughts, it was nearly nine o’ clock. He looked at the toddler, who was still playing, but quietly now. He was looking very sleepy. 

“I think it’s bedtime” Tony said.

Peter looked up, nodding. He looked incredibly cute, and Tony found he couldn’t deny that - or the warm feeling in his chest when he looked at him. He lifted the boy into his arms, rubbing his back gently.

“I think you’ve tired yourself out”

“I’m not a bit tired” Peter yawned.

“You just keep telling yourself that”

Tony carried him to his room. He pulled the covers back, and carefully set him down in the middle of the bed, wary that he might fall out if he put him on one side of the bed instead. Peter looked up at him, his little nose wrinkling as he yawned again. He cuddled up with his rocket.

“There we go” Tony said, tucking the covers round him. 

“Daddy?”

“Shh. It’s time to sleep”

“Daddy, I love you”

Tony looked at him, really looked at him. He could really see his Peter in this little boy, and that made the whole thing all the more difficult. He was gentle, and cute, and Tony hated that. He didn’t want to accept what had happened. He wanted his son back, his fifteen year old son. But now he had this toddler. He’d secretly been quite proud of himself for managing to avoid him as long as he did. But now he was face to face with him. He’d had to look after him, watch him play, get him washed and into his pyjamas and into bed, actually interact with him and see what he was like. And as much as he hated to admit it, he knew this little kid was weaseling his way into his heart. He didn’t feel ready for that. He hadn’t adopted a toddler - how could he possible parent one? How could he act like he hadn’t lost his little boy? Ok, so he was still here, physically (although small), but he wasn’t here in any other way. He’d been right to fear Kindsprengens gun. 

He swallowed, and very gently kissed the toddler on the forehead.

“Go to sleep”

-

Loki was just coming out of his en suite, towel round his shoulders, when Tony came into his bedroom. Loki sighed, assuming he was going to try to rope him back into childcare.

“Hi”

Tony’s eyes welled with tears. Loki looked at him, and saw that his shoulders had started to shake.

“Tony?! Oh Tony, hey! Oh darling!”

He put his hands on Tony’s shoulders. Tony threw his arms round Loki, burying his face in his shoulder. Loki hesitated, surprised, and then held him tight.

“Oh darling” Loki said, resting his head against Tony’s. “What is it? It’s ok; I’ve got you”

Tony couldn’t speak. He clung to Loki desperately, and he sobbed and sobbed, and sobbed.

*

[reddeaddamnation]

Imagine: Living with the Assassins and Templars

You were awoken by the smell of freshly fried eggs and bacon. It was Evie’s turn to cook and even though she cooked marvelously, for some reason every time she did it, the entire house smelt of the meal. That wasn’t enough to make you wake up though... From the room above yours, Edward was trying out his new stereo system by playing tavern party songs at max volume. You looked at your clock and it displayed 9 AM. “What the hell is Edward doing up so early anyway?” you thought angrily. You rubbed the sleep away from your eyes and slowly got up from bed, staring at the wall for several moments, before actually standing up. You got dressed in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants and yawning, you walked out of your room. The house was big enough for everyone to live in, as it had three floors with three rooms (yours being on the second floor) on each, excluding the kitchen and two bathrooms. 

In the hallway, you bumped into Arno, who was holding a mug of coffee, still in his pajamas and looking like he is barely keeping his eyes open. “Good morning!” you exclaimed, a bit startled. He looked at you and gave a weak smile “Morning.” before continuing to drag his legs towards the kitchen. You followed him, careful not to push him, because you were afraid even the slightest touch could send him tumbling down. 

Bayek was helping Evie with the cooking and the two argued politely about how it was Evie’s job today and how Bayek had to help her with something at least. Shay was reading a newspaper and every so often he burst out laughing at something. “You gotta read this ‘Keeping a pet cat could be potentially more dangerous than keeping a wild animal’! Who the hell comes up with these?” Ezio scoffed from across the table “The fault isn’t in the person who sells the pie, but in the one who buys it.” Aya, who was playing on her phone and laughing at the headlines along with Shay snickered “Yeah. If people stop believing that shit, the publishers might actually stop making more of it.”. Jacob sipped the last of his coffee and put the mug on the table with a loud sigh, after which he stood up and grabbed his phone “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the office.” he notified and quickly strolled down the corridor to the bathroom and locked himself inside for the next quarter of an hour as he usually does and right when you had decided to take a shower. Evie glared at him as he walked, stunned and angry as always by his vulgarity. The main problem of the household was the limited amount of bathrooms and every morning was a true game of thrones for everyone, as they raced and argued who should be first and ending up waiting in line. 

“Morning, everyone.“ you greeted and sat down on a chair across from Shay, who was sipping coffee from behind the paper. “Shay, mate, the stereo is better than ever!“ Edward exclaimed loudly, bursting in suddenly “Just imagine setting it up in your new car!“ Shay looked up, beaming up, but you cut him off before he could say anything “We know, Edward, everyone heard it three blocks away.“ you rolled your eyes. “Okay, listen, listen.“ Ezio proposed “We should try it out now!“ Shay and Edward looked at each other “Yeah, let’s hope Des and Clay wake up by the time we set it up. They’d hate to miss it.“ Edward grinned and in the next minute the three of them strolled out of the kitchen at once. “Aya! You coming?“ Edward called. “You know it!“ Aya beamed and stood up, bidding farewell to the rest of you in the kitchen. 

At the doorway, they bumped into Connor, who was coming back from his morning jog. That man woke up earliest and went to bed latest. You wondered how he did it. They greeted each other, before Connor walked up the stairs to change clothes. “What’s the big deal about an ordinary stereo anyway?” Evie rolled her eyes, flipping a pancake with a spatula. “You know how those three are. Always wanting to be noticed.” Bayek answered. Arno was looking better now that he has had his coffee and occupied himself with checking his thousand social media accounts and making sure to update on every one of them. “FUCK” was heard from the living room and you recognized the voice as Altair’s. He was playing video games again and you knew better than to disturb him while he was in the zone... You and Evie shared a look and returned to what you were doing.

About a half an hour later, the loud music was heard coming from outside now, meaning that they did a good job at plugging the stereo in the car’s system. After a series of “No! Put it there!”, “Wrong hole again!” or “Damn it! It’s not working!”, the group cheered as the song started playing. It was about that time when Desmond and Clay finally decided to join you, but quickly changed their minds when they saw what was going on outside. “Hey, guys, what’s all the commotion abo- WHAAAT IS THAT!” and with that, they ran outside and joined the others, followed by Daniel who glared at them as he went down the stairs and joined you in the kitchen to get his coffee. “Is Haytham overworking himself again?” you asked and Daniel nodded a yes. Noticing his grumpy attitude, you sighed, realizing the reason for it and asked “The usual?” Daniel nodded again, understanding your question “This time it was Cross puns until 3 AM. And a spider.” he explained.

All of a sudden fiery Irish curses could be heard from outside after a few unsuccessful tries to start up the car, angry voices and a garage door opening “When I find the shit that sold me this car, just watch what I’ll do!” Shay swore as he slammed his fist on the lid of the car. That apparently made the car angry, because the lid opened and a black fluid flew out of the engine right onto his clothes. You watched the circus from the window as they pondered what could be wrong “Did you check the connector?” Clay asked, looking around the car’s vital parts. Desmond opened and closed the lid, brows furrowed, as he stared into the engine as if he was looking for something specific. “What are you looking at?” Aya asked with a raised eyebrow. “I’m looking.” Desmond answered. “We see that, but care to tell us what exactly it is you’re looking at?” she asked again persistently. “Well...” Desmond stuttered “Everything here seems in order...” Clay scoffed and leaned his back against the car “Yeah, except that the engine doesn’t work and Shay emptied the grease tank on himself.” In the mean time, Shay tried to walk inside and upstairs, but was stopped in his tracks by Evie’s scream. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Shay looked at her angrily “I’m going upstairs!” That only angered the woman more, because she threateningly waved the spatula in her hand at him “Not like that you aren’t! You’ll get grease all over the carpet I washed only three days ago!”

Defeated, Shay walked outside again, hunched over and mumbling about how the car cost him a fortune. “Hey, mate.” Edward called “Did you raise the handbrake?” Shay furrowed his brows and stopped in his tracks for a moment. Then he jogged over and sat in the driver’s seat again, sighing rather heavily when he saw that indeed, he hasn’t raised the handbrake. They wasted another fifteen minutes filling the car with grease and Ezio’s remarks like “Do you even know how to start a car?” didn’t help at all. Of course, that made Shay angry and when everything was in order (hopefully) and everyone in their seats, Shay closed the door of the driver’s seat and glared at the Italian “Not you.” And with that, under the sound of party music and cheers, the car made a drift and rode off down the street. Just as Ezio walked through the door with a sad expression on his face, he was met with Jacob in the hallway who had just left the “office” and asked in a cheery tone “Did I miss anything?”

Everyone in the kitchen, including you, sighed heavily. To break the ice, Bayek smiled and asked “Who wants barbecue tonight? We’ll start up the grill in the backyard!” You wondered sometimes how it is everyone gets along so well under one roof... It made you smile how they were such good friends, while in the mean time roasting each other completely. 

[bredsticon-blog]

title: ¡quake! & ~the wave~

desc: by day, you're a reporter for a sketchy newspaper called the exposé. by night, you're a hero named ¡quake! (the exclamation points actually stand for the ground shaking). you and a fellow reporter, brandon arreaga, have recently found the lead on a villain's identity: ~THE WAVE~ (the tildes actually stand for the water... er, waving). ~THE WAVE~ is also your archenemy. who is also brandon arreaga. ...whoops.

part: one (déjà vu)

tags: superhero au, dark! brandon arreaga, humor, love square, gender neutral reader (as always), cussing, mentions of drug use, alcohol, & death (later on)

word count: 1.2k

notes: i have a really large kink for weird multipart aus so expect more to come :^) i have an edwin and austin one coming up. whichever i update first depends on the responses i get

You're not groggy and foggy this morning. You haven't had your coffee yet and the sun isn't peaking through the boarded windows, but you don't stumble around your room, either. Not like there's much to stumble around. Furniture is hard to move from house to house. That, and you stuffed too many confidential documents in the couch cushions to trust any moving company.

In fact, you're never groggy and foggy in the mornings. You don't need to drink coffee. You could step outside in your costume, turn to the wall of flashing lights and microphones, and say three words: "I want chairs." and every furniture designer in the world would scramble to ship their best pieces to you. Not that they'd know your address—you've made certain that no one would—but they'd try.

You make your way to the living room, gingerly stepping over piles of unopened letters covered in kiss prints and heart stickers. Your fans discovered your past home, so you had to move before they found out who lived there. A box T.V., slouching on one of your untouched packing boxes, blares in the corner. You grimace and cover your ears, but you can still hear it.

"International supervillains quake at the sight of ¡quake! Haha, that was a nice one, wasn't it, Normani? Last night, ~THE WAVE~ was found plotting to stea—"

You dart to the TV and turn the volume down one notch. It goes mute. There you go, that's it. Bliss.

Not for long.

Something goes off near your hip. You scramble in the deep plush of your pajama pockets. It's like an earthquake. Your skin vibrates along with it. Your fingers clasp around smooth plastic, and you tug your phone out.

"HELLO, STERLING."

Your boss's voice explodes in your ears; you grimace, throwing your phone to a couch.

"Yes, boss?" you say, answering to your alias. Sterling wasn't your actual name, but that's what your boss calls you when she's on the phone. In case someone's tracking.

From the couch, her voice is less booming. "Sterling, a certain friend of yours has told me that you moved again? Without telling me?"

But just as terrifying.

"Yes, boss. People found my address and started sending things. Most were good but... gross things, too. Y'know how it is now. Normals have a fetish for me. My kind."

You give her a second to respond.

"You're lucky I pity you, babe." Your boss is one of a kind. She's the only person in the world who pities you. "If you weren't you, if you didn't have your condition, if you didn't always give me the juiciest stories, I'd damn near fire you for moving so much. On my bill. This is the sixth time this year, no?"

You nod, then realize that it's a phone call. "Uh- yeah. It is."

Since you're a "superhuman," the government requires that you register to UN, fingerprints included. Your superhero identity would be tacked on every piece of ID you ever own.

The thing is, you're one of the only heroes with a living archenemy. Which means you don't exactly want everyone to know who you are. Which also means that the government doesn't know you exist. Can't file taxes, buy anything substantial, or get a proper paycheck. You just rely on your boss's money to keep you afloat. Every time you move, it's been on her card.

She sighs. "Fine, fine. Just keep up the good work. You being... you is worth it."

"Will do."

"Speaking of good work, I have an assignment for you. You know that person that's been bugging you for the past few years? Well, after the information you gave me, Brandon's found something new on them." Her voice takes on a sparkle. "This is gonna be big. If this doesn't blow up our paper, I don't know what will."

Your eyebrows shoot up. Wait a minute—is she talking about the bane of your existence? ~THE WAVE~? The person that's been messing you up ever since you got your powers?

"The thing is, my darling Sterling, it's so big, I will need your sharp senses. Brandon refuses to leave this story, so both of you are going to work on it."

There's only six reporters working for the Exposé—and she's putting two on one story. That's one third of her entire business. On one story.

"Now, dear, could you tell me your new address so he could do a little hop and skip to your place? Some of this stuff is deeply sensitive."

You whisper it in the a special code you two formulated. Your ears pick up a faint scribbling sound, and she speaks once more.

"Wonderful, wonderful. He'll be over at three!"

She ends the call.

You gulp. Your house is the definition of a wreck. You have fan gifts addressed to ¡quake! all over the place, and as far as Mr. Arreaga is concerned, your name is Sterling, and you're just a humble reporter. You haven't brushed your teeth yet. You didn't take a shower in two days. Your good fits are still in your car. It's two o'clock.

As the great Captain America once said: Fuck.

You speed through your personal hygiene, going in and out of the bathroom to dig through boxes. You knew you should've unpacked sooner. You knew it, and you didn't.

After that, you take all your gifts into the basement. Or, rather, roll them into the basement, since you couldn't carry some. Being ¡quake! didn't give you super-strength, and one person literally gave you a tree (their prized Pennantia baylisiana). You have no idea how that went through UPS, but it did, and you also had the ignorance to bring it with you when you moved. You truly question why little kids look up to you.

You aggressively dust the house, push around furniture, pick a good fit, and sneeze a good fifty times before finishing. The boarded windows look suspicious, but you can just say you're a conspiracy nut. Brandon doesn't much about you, so you can make up whatever bullshit you want. Chances are, he'll believe it.

None of your coworkers know that much about you, really. The other five are pretty much brothers, while you've kept to yourself. For good reasons. You haven't killed your archenemy yet. Until then, you've vowed to keep your hero life away from your personal life. It's the only way to keep everyone safe. Especially when it's your archenemy.

So you chit chat with them, act friendly but not too friendly, just average. You bring good stories, though, the latest scoop, all that. Even if you hold back a bit, you know enough about the criminals in this area to satisfy any paper. It gives you a good excuse to act like you're leaving for an assignment when you're actually just punching ~THE WAVE~. Your coworkers don't know more than they need to. And you plan on keeping it that way.

The doorbell screams. You kick the last fan letter into a corner, and you rush to open the door.

Brandon gives you a smile.

He's cute, but still just your coworker. You gotta keep him at arms-length. You smile back, knowing you look completely dead inside.

He meets your eyes. His are dark. Like an inked signature. Like a new moon on a cloudy night. It flips a switch in you, a spark of coldness, a wisp of familiarity, and your eye twitches. Déjà vu. He stares at you. Neither of you speak.

Then he blushes. "So, uh, I'm guessing this is where the infamous Sterling lives?"

--

a/n: i know this sucked ass. dont remind me

[taiblogcomics]

Down, Down, and Nearby

Hey there, Toledo, Ohio. Just because we finished a story arc last update doesn’t mean we can’t do more Red Hood and the Outlaws. Gotta make up for lost time, even though I have way more Suicide Squads on the back burner. That’s more the bimonthly vs monthly releases of the issues, though. Even if I kept up and did one a month of each, I’d still have more Suicide Squad on the back burner~

Here’s a cool cover:

See, this is the sort of cover I wish we got more of. Forget those covers of just a bunch of characters posing as a team. A single, effective image that thematically sums up the issue. You probably couldn’t do this every issue, or that’d get boring too, but I find this way more eye-catching than the one from last issue. I would wear this as a T-shirt. Plus you get the effective symbolism of it being a reference to the polybags from the Death of Superman story. This is a good goddamn cover~

We open in a gloomy park, where a person whose face is kept out of frame is reading a newspaper. This newspaper is excellent at providing exposition, as it informs us that the Outlaws are back in Gotham. We can’t just show that with an establishing shot or caption, it needs to be a newspaper headline that informs the characters as well. Anyway, our shadowy figure informs his guest that he broke him out of Arkham for a simple job, and afterwards he’s free to go. The companion agrees, revealing himself as Solomon Grundy in the process. The shadowy figure then departs, telling Grundy to enjoy himself while he’s out there. It’s not a bad establishing scene, I just think the newspaper is some shoddy exposition~

Instead, we rejoin our protagonists (hey, I hear they’re back in Gotham now) caring for Bizarro, who is not doing well. Despite the previous issue ending with a declaration of his death, it seems the big guy is not quite shuffled off from this mortal coil quite yet. Artemis thinks he should be in an actual hospital, but they can’t really do that. First, most hospitals aren’t equipped to do Bizarros, and secondly, they’re also international war criminals now, thanks to their actions in Qurac. Artemis also has the bedside manner of a scorpion, as when Jason tells Bizarro he’s going to be fine if he just hangs in there, she asks why he would lie at a time like this. Ma Gunn (remember her?) asks them to take it outside.

A day later, the pair of them are facing the grim reality. They were told Bizarro had a shelf life from the moment they met him, but it doesn’t make it any easier to see their friend slowly deteriorating in front of them. Artemis is especially upset, since she just saw her friend Akila explode in the last issue. However, they don’t have long to dwell on it, as suddenly Ma Gunn informs them of a news report that’s just come on. Solomon Grundy is rampaging downtown, not five blocks away. The pair run out, and Artemis actually even takes a moment to give Bizarro a gentle kiss before she leaves. Maybe her bedside manner’s not so awful after all.

Grundy’s out tearing up a street fair, so we open on a terrific full-page splash image of Solomon Grundy hefting a dunk tank with a clown in it over his head. Solomon Grundy in this one is one of those incarnations where he can only repeat the “Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday” poem, so Artemis kicks him in the face while shouting her own name too. This is funny, but Jason’s quips about “really, you’re the Solomon Grundy?” are less so. Jason opens fire with both guns, but Grundy just swats him aside before his banter can go on for too long.

Back in their hideout, Ma Gunn is reading a children’s book to Bizarro, who suddenly wakes up and proclaims he has to go help his friends. Yeah, he can hear them from five blocks away. He hears everything, all the time. So he has heard that he’s dying. Ma Gunn warns him that if he knows that, he must also know that if he gets up and leaves now, he won’t make it back. Bizarro simply says that yes, he knows that. But his friends are more important. And he flies off, busting down the wall and knocking over a plot point for later. We won’t worry about that for now.

We return to the battle at the carnival, where it clearly hasn’t been going well for Jason. All his dumb quips and gunfire can’t save him from a super-strong zombie. His helmet’s cracked, and Grundy’s about to piledrive a fire hydrant into his face. But he’s saved in a big two-page splash where Bizarro flies in and decks Grundy in the face. Jason keeps begging Bizarro to stay down, but Bizarro replies “down is opposite of helping”, and punches Grundy one more time, knocking him down. Bizarro then keeps wailing on him, shouting for him to stop hurting his friends. Artemis gets up and puts a hand on his shoulder, asking him to stop and go home. Bizarro replies that he is home, he’s here with his friends. He lays down slowly, and Artemis and Jason support him, thanking him for the save. He asks them for a favour as his eyes go dark, and holds out his little plush Superman doll that Jason gave him. He asks them to take care of “Pup Pup”, and he dies.

They actually give a full page this, no dialogue or anything. Just a blank page of Bizarro’s last moments, with Jason and Artemis kneeling at their friend’s side. The empty space it uses realy makes it feel heavy, it’s good symbolism. Jason stands up, frustratedly beginning to spout ideas to bring him back. A Lazarus pit, or something. Artemis covers Bizarro with his cape, and says what they can do is mourn the passing of a hero. Jason is still trying to come to grips with it, protesting that Bizarro wasn’t just a lump of Kryptonian DNA, he was a friend, struggling (and failing) to get that last word out.

Artemis stoops and picks up Pup Pup, and she and Jason just stand close and quiet for a while. But as they stand mourning, suddenly they notice a presence behind them. A presence with a flowing red cape, floating in the air, and bearing a glowing S-shield. Both of them are struck with electricity, and Lex Luthor, in his full Superman armour, floats down, intrigued by Bizarro’s body in particular.

If every issue of Red Hood was as good as this one, I probably wouldn’t be reviewing it right now. And honestly, the Artemis/Bizarro issues are better than the Starfire/Arsenal  ones ever were. This is a good comic, and I will actually encourage everyone to seek this issue out. Everything from the cover to Jason and Artemis reacting to the ailing Bizarro, to Bizarro’s actual death… Everything just works. Notably, there’s not a single “inner monologue” box in the whole issue. The characters are allowed to just express their feelings out loud, and it works. It’s a melancholy issue, and it comes off way more genuine than any death in Suicide Squad ever has.

And hey, it promises Lex Luthor next time, and in our experience so far, that’s also led to good issues, so I look forward to the next one~

[infamousoverwatch]

Clichés: Chapter 2

Someone asked me to tag them in this so they could know when it was updated...but i’m a moron and didn’t write their url down. So if you wanna be tagged/mentioned when there’s an update, send me an IM or an ask. I’ve added a button on my blog that will allow you to read Clichés in chronological order.

Once your blush faded away and you were composed enough to not look like an idiot that was in love with their boss, you went to go talk to your other boss, the one that you weren’t majorly crushing on. Not that Jack Morrison wasn’t attractive with those stunning blue eyes and sexy blonde hair and fit, muscular body with arms that probably felt like heaven lying in… what was the point again?

You walked up to him just as that bitchy reporter was leaving. You could see the frown on her pretty face as she huffed and turned away, walking towards the elevator with purpose. Jack groaned once she was out of sight, those blue eyes you had just been thinking about rolling in annoyance.

“Didn’t think she was ever gonna leave.” He huffed, turning around and sitting on top of your desk. You moved to stand beside him, offering a comforting smile.

“How’d it go?” You asked him, eyes darting to the mug of coffee resting dangerously close to the corner of your desk. The coffee you made that morning was no doubt cold and gross by now, but if it spilled, you’d have to clean it up. Or the janitor, Jamison, would and he could be a little intense. Luckily Jack seemed to notice the mug on the brink of suicide and picked it up before he accidentally knocked it over.

“She didn’t take it well, but she’ll be out of our hair for now,” He informed her, “‘World’s Okayest Secretary’?” He read the text on the mug, deep chuckle escaping his lips.

“Yes, it was a Christmas present from Mister Reyes.” You recalled the memory fondly.

You had been working on the morning of Christmas Eve, boredly typing away at your computer, checking through the bosses schedules and making sure their appointments were correct, all the usual stuff, when Gabriel showed up at your desk. He knocked his fist against the wood of your desk to capture your attention. It had startled you, but you were always happy to see him (and think about him. Which happened a lot. Especially at night, whenever you were lonely…). He moved his hand from behind his back and showed you what he was holding. It was hard to tell what it was from the shape, as the red and white christmas tree ornament decorated wrapping paper made it look like a crumpled newspaper inside another crumpled newspaper. He handed it to you with a huge a grin that took your breath away (God you wished he would grin at you like that all the time) and you were so stunned it took a moment to take it from him. It took even longer to unwrap the present, tape gripped at every turn, corner, and curve. When you finally managed to discard the wrapping paper, you let out a sharp laugh. A white, slightly misshapen mug with the words ‘World’s Okayest Secretary’ painted in large block letters. When you looked up at him, his grin practically blinded you. You stuttered out a thank you, face flushing when you realized you hadn’t gotten him anything because you deemed it inappropriate. After telling him that you hadn’t gotten him anything, he laughed, deep and rumbling, echoing to your very core. It felt like butterflies had been caught in a tornado in your stomach. The feeling got stronger as he rubbed his hand on your head and told you it was okay, that the best present would be you continuing to work hard.

It was then that you started to think maybe your crush wasn’t so much of a crush and more of you being hopelessly in love. And then you started planning what to get him for Christmas the next year.

“Y/N?” Jack calling your name snapped you out of your trip down memory lane.

“Oh, sorry, what?” You asked, embarrassed that you had been so entranced in your memory you didn’t hear your boss talking to you. Jack didn’t seem to mind, and offered a kind smile before uncrossing his arms and standing from your desk.

“I asked if you’d like to get a drink with me?” He repeated.

What. Wait. What? Was he asking you on a date? No way, right? No way. Yeah totally no way, he’s just being nice.

“There’s this nice bar a short walk from here. It’s already almost 7, I say let’s call it a night and celebrate another day of work survived,” He joked, “Besides, I could really use a drink after talking to that girl.”

Yeah, he wasn’t asking you on a date. No way. Just… co-workers out drinking.

“Oh, sure.” You agreed, eager to leave work. Free drinks didn’t sound bad. Maybe it’d help get your mind off Gabriel. Or you could do the opposite and ask him about Gabriel, or inquire about the whole marriage situation.

Jack grinned, teeth shining bright as always, eyes crinkling with joy. He was very much like a golden retriever. The thought made you giggle as you walked to the elevator with him, stepping in and hitting the button to the lobby floor.

The bar was a lot more quaint than you thought it would be. You figured it would be something fancy, but it was rather average. It was still nice; dim lighting, bartenders in suits, colorful drinks with fancy umbrellas, quiet alternative rock music playing in the background, well furbished booths, stools, and tables. Not like the rundown shitshow you were used to.

Jack, clearly familiar with the place, lead you to free table in the back of the bar, away from most of the people. Ever the gentleman, he pulled out your chair for you and if you keep blushing like this, your face will turn red permanently.

“I’m gonna get us a drink. Any idea what you’d like or should I surprise you?” He asked, gesturing to the bar with a nod of his head.

Fuck, you had no idea what to order.

“Uh, surprise me?” Your meekness made it sound like a question, and you mentally reminded yourself to work on your confidence. Which was currently very lacking. Well, work on faking the confidence at least.

Jack didn’t seem to care, and offered a quick nod before turning to the bar and hailing the bartender's attention.

‘This isn’t a date. This isn’t a date.’ You thought to yourself, silently watching Jack interact with the bartender as he leaned on the bar. Your eyes trailed down to his ass. ‘I really need to stop looking at his ass. I can’t believe I have to work for two incredibly attractive men. If only this were some romantic movie. A rom-com or something. Two handsome CEO’s pinning over an average girl… such is the dream.’ A huffed laugh escaped your lips at the thought. That stuff only happened in movies and fanfiction. Terrible movies and fanfiction, full of clichés and cheese.

When he returned, it was with a glass of scotch in one hand and an obnoxiously multi-colored drink with a crazy straw in the other. He sat down in the chair across from you and slid the colored drink your way.

“One of this place’s specialties. Super fruity and not a lot of alcohol.” He explained, watching your reaction as you took a sip from the crazy straw. It was definitely very fruity. It tasted more like candy than alcohol. It wasn’t too bad, though. Just… different. It kinda tasted like you had taken a bite of every fruit in existence at the same time, had half a teaspoon of DayQuil, then drank koolaid made with 60% koolaid powder, 5% water, and 35% sugar. Still, you plastered on a smile and thanked him. At least you could keep the crazy straw, even if you did get diabetes.

“So how are you holding up with all the changes?” Jack inquired, striking up a conversation.

“It’s a little hectic. Not too much has changed, just double the workload.” He made a humming noise and oh shit you just casually complained about work to your boss. “Not that I'm complaining or anything! I mean, I can handle it! It’s not a big deal.” You quickly explained, voice getting higher as you tried to defend yourself.

Jack chuckled and took a swig of his scotch, swirling it around in the glass as he swallowed, enjoying the soothing sting it left.

“How-How about you? How’s working with Reyes, side-by-side?” You asked, “Especially with that whole ‘gotta get married in six months or we’re fucked’ thing.” You added casually, the instant regret of asking rising to your face.

Jack looked at you surprised and curious, not expecting you to bring that up, let alone know about it.

“Gabe told you about that?” He asked, the surprise clear in his voice. You didn't understand why it surprised him. You would have found out eventually. It seemed unlikely that something like this would go under the radar of the press.

“Yeah. Uh, should he not have?” Now you were concerned. Was it supposed to be some super secret thing? Did he only tell you because he was stressed out? Jack’s easy going chuckle soothed your nerves slightly. You took another sip of your drink to try and relax, immediately remembering it was mostly sugar and fruit and not nearly enough alcohol to provide any soothing effects. You tried not to let the gag escape your lips.

“No, no,” he started, “It’s fine. I just… didn't expect him to tell anyone. He’s not really fond of the idea, if you haven't noticed.” He took another sip, actually it was more of a chug. When he set the glass back down, it was empty.

“He’s not like… dating anyone?” Holy shit why did you ask that. You shouldn't have asked that.

Jack looked at you with a raised brow, a small smirk curling his lips. He knew. He knew, he knew, he knew. He knew that you are so sickeningly in love with Gabriel.

“No. Far as I know, he’s single. But he doesn't like being forced to mingle by his dead father.” He explained as he watched your expression intently. You tried so hard not to show your relief and to just play it off as professional curiosity. Instead, you just giggled at his attempt at a joke.

“Gossiping about my father, eh chicas?”

Speak of the Devil.

Don’t worry, there’ll be more Gabriel in the next chapter lol.

[g0dblessthefandom]

Brittana Valentine’s Semi AU (Updated Daily Until Valentine’s Day) February 5, 2017

Another day closer to Valentine’s Day, another updated fic chapter. Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together?

January 5, 2017

Brittany woke up with a start.

Her head was pounding and her mouth was dry. She looked around, squinting into the brightness that surrounded her. She waited for the blurriness to clear, and saw that she was in Mercedes apartment, splayed over a couch. She wasn’t alone, there were voices in the kitchen, and she took a few moments to climb to her feet, and followed the sounds.

“It wasn’t a date.”

Santana’s voice had a bit of bite, and Brittany stopped, remembering the events of the night before that ended up with her crashed on Mercedes couch. She had probably more alcohol than was called for (those fruity drinks always did her in), and had been in no position to make it all the way back across town to her place. She ended up doing what she normally did when she found herself too tipsy to be trusted in a cab, and fallen asleep on the first horizontal item she stumbled into at Mercedes’ place. It wasn’t a perfect system, but more often than not, it kept her from throwing up on something she wasn’t supposed to, and she rarely felt safer than when she was at her friend’s house.

“I’m not saying it was a date, Santana, but it was like a date. If you wanted to count that as one of the 13, then I don’t think anyone would disagree with you.”

“I dunno, Mercedes. I think she just needs some time, and space, you know. You didn’t see her face the other day. At the school. I don’t think I’ve seen her this miserable since she had to leave Lord Tubbington at her parent’s house. I don’t want to be the person who makes her feel like that.”

“You don’t have to get down on one knee and propose, you just have to tell her.”

“I’m not pushing it.” Santana’s tone was firm. “She needs time, or whatever, and I’m going to give it to her. I have to accept that our relationship won’t ever be like it was. I’m not happy about it, no, but if it’s what’s best for her, that’s it.”

Brittany cleared her throat, and made her way into the kitchen.

“Hey, um, morning everybody.”

“Hey! Good morning, everybody’s private dancer. You had fun last night, no? I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

Mercedes got up from her stool at the counter, and went to the cabinet, pulling out a mug. Brittany took her place, aware of how close she was sitting to Santana.

“Yeah.” She laughed. “What I remember of it. It was a blast. Remind me to avoid whatever that was in the bottle shaped like a dagger.”

Mercedes sat the mug down, along with the cream and sugar. “It was bad, girl, I don’t know. I’m still recovering myself.”

Brittany giggled a bit, and turned to Santana. “Good morning, Santana.”

“Oh, hi, I mean, morning, Britt.” Santana tried to keep her bearings, but almost spilled her coffee at the greeting. She’d forgotten how gorgeous Brittany looked in the morning, her hair going in a thousand different directions, and the imprint of the couch pressed into her cheek. They’d spend mornings like this, waking up late, taking a shower together, getting back into bed, another shower, and then going to the farmer’s market for brunch. She’d never thought she’d be a farmer’s market gal, but Brittany had changed her. She snapped herself back to reality.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Like a log, as usual. What can I say? I nailed it when I picked that new couch for you, Mercedes.”

“You always could sleep anywhere, Britt. Remember that time we got locked out of my house cause we came back too late from that party at Quinn’s house and you ended up on top of the shed?” Santana said, laughing.

“Then your dad came out and I woke up to him on a ladder trying to drape a blanket over me?”

“Yes! And you nearly fell off, and I still don’t get why he didn’t just wake you up. You would have been down in like five seconds.”

Mercedes opened the refrigerator. “Well, you two keep reminiscing, and I’m going to whip us up a couple of Mercedes Jones hangover cure omelettes. I put everything in there but the kitchen sink, and it’ll have you at a hundred percent in no time.”

“Actually-” Santana said, draining the rest of the coffee from her cup, and got up from her chair. “I’d better go. I’m meeting with the realtor today to try and find a new place. Rachel suggested her, and before you say anything, she knows I’m working in a budget. I figured it would be better than living in your guest room for the rest of my life.”

“What? Oh, c’mon, Santana, you can’t leave without having breakfast first. I wouldn’t do that to you. I don’t treat my guests that way.”

Santana sent a significant glance to Brittany who was doing her best not to get involved, and flipping through the newspaper.

“I’ve gotta, Mercedes. I’ll grab something on the way.”

“But Santana, you just got into town. You haven’t even been here a week, just hang out, c’mon.”

“Mercedes-”

Brittany folded the newspaper gently, and leaned on the counter. “Stay, Santana. I mean, if you want to.”

Both Santana and Mercedes turned quickly to her.

“A-are you sure, Britt? I mean, I don’t want to… I just mean, we don’t have to…”

“I just think you shouldn’t leave on an empty stomach. I agree with Mercedes. And the longer you two argue about it, the more time it’s going to take for me to get my omelette, so, you should definitely stay.”

Brittany smiled cheekily, and Santana returned the smile. She sat back down with a thump, bumping Brittany with her shoulder.

“I guess I’ve been convinced. I’ll take one of those omelettes now, Mercedes.”

Mercedes rolled her eyes, and turned back towards the stove. “Fine, but don’t get used to this kind of treatment, you two.”

She pulled out some vegetables and a couple of knives and handed them to her guests.

“You two make yourselves useful and get chopping. Next time we’ll have to get Sugar to take us to her big place downtown. She has a cook!”

“Yeah, I don’t get that, because it’s not like she’s even home half the time.” Brittany chimed in.

“You don’t get to be the biggest producer for Atlantic records by hanging out in your apartment, that’s for sure.”

“Wait a second.” Santana said, putting her hands up for quiet. “Can we talk about Sugar and Jane for a second?”

“Other than them being the cutest couple in the world?” Brittany asked, dreamily.

“I’ll admit that they’re pretty cute, but since when has Sugar been down with the ladies?”

Mercedes swirled some butter around in her pan. “She hadn’t really been. In fact, once she got to the city, I hadn’t really seen  her with anybody. But one day she came to a thing at Brittany’s school, and met Jane and it was off to the races. I’ve never seen her so smitten.”

“Really?” Santana said, munching on a pepper. “Just out of the blue, huh?”

“Yeah, she’s really into her. Which is weird because I always saw Sugar as someone who’d never settle down. But it’s like, Jane says jump and Sugar says how high. She’s even gotten her to stop pestering her dad for stuff.”

“So, Sugar isn’t a daddy’s girl anymore?” Santana said, skeptically.

Brittany carefully brought her knife down over a tomato. “I wouldn’t go that far. She’s certainly doing better, but you know Mr. Motta, San. If it were up to him, Sugar would never have to work a day in her life.”

“I just didn’t see it coming. I talk to Sugar sometimes, and she’s never mentioned a girl.”

“Well, it’s new. Only, what, two months now, Mercedes?”

Mercedes nodded.

“And, I don’t know if she realizes how much she’s smitten even now.”

“Sugar is our little smitten kitten.” Mercedes chuckled.

“Don’t let her hear you say that, ‘Cedes, she will freak.”

“Probably.”

Santana sighed. “I guess, I missed a lot. I should have come over here sooner. Just to check things out. Just to see how you all were.”

The festive mood died down a bit at this comment, and Santana regretted making it almost immediately. She hadn’t meant to remind everyone how thoroughly she’d failed all of them. She cleared her throat and focused on her chopping.

“Well, we’re glad you’re here now, Santana. That’s what matters.”

Santana looked up to Mercedes and smiled. She didn’t dare look at Brittany, but she was glad to know that at the very least things were civil between the two of them now.

\

The rest of the day passed in a blur. They ate brunch, and then had all headed out to their separate appointments. It was Sunday, so Santana didn’t have much to do. She’d been serious about not spending the rest of her life bunking with Mercedes (though, she wasn’t entirely sure that Mercedes would have kicked her out). All things considered, she did have a pretty sweet deal. Mercedes’ house was lush, and prime real estate. But, it was way out of Santana’s price range, and as much as a she loved her friend, she knew that she needed her own space from time to time. After meeting with the realtor, she found herself wandering. The city itself hadn’t changed much, one subway ride and she could be anywhere she wanted to be. She didn’t have a destination, but the urge to get a drink overtook her, and she found herself at a very familiar watering hole.

Santana tucked herself into a corner, and was feeling nostalgic. She pulled out her phone, and ignoring the multiple texts from Sugar asking when she’d be available for dinner and gossip, hovered over Brittany’s name for a few seconds.

“To hell with it.” She mumbled.

Hey, remember Baileys?

There was a long pause, and Santana put her phone on the bar. She tried to pretend that she was listening to the Fleetwood Mac song (Rhiannon) that was playing on the jukebox, or the guys in the corner arguing over a game of pool. She even tried to pretend to care about the conversation she struck up with the guy beside her who was drunkenly doing his best to get in her pants. But a moment later, the phone dinged, and she dove for it.

Sorry, I was in the shower. Yeah, I remember Bailey’s. That old dive bar you used to work at. When you were in school, and trying to prove your ‘independence’.

Santana smiled.

I did prove my independence, Pierce, no need for the quotations. I paid for all my classes that next semester.

True. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your dad so proud of you. Except for when you came out to him in high school.

Santana tried to think about how to respond. She didn’t want to force the conversation, but she didn’t want it to end. She thought for a few moments, and was about to respond when the phone buzzed again.

Why are you asking me about Bailey’s?

I’m here now, actually. I got on a train and ended up like a block away. Reminds me of old times.

Getting nostalgic on me, Santana?

Probably. :D

Santana watched the group of dots appear and then disappear a few times. She smiled down at her phone.

Anyway, I didn’t mean to bother you. Have a good night.

Santana took a few more sips of her beer, and left a tip on the counter, waving to the bartender. She took a detour to the bathroom, and then headed towards the bathroom. As she pushed open the door, she nearly ran into Brittany, who was racing in.

“Oof. Sorry!”

“Brittany? What are you doing here?”

Brittany seemed out of breath, and Santana gave her a moment.

“I-I live near here. I was thinking- I could meet you here before you left.”

“You ran here?”

“Yeah, it’s not far, seriously. Only a couple of blocks.”

“Well… Hi.”

Brittany smiled, and brushed past Santana and went into the bar. She sat down and ordered a beer, thanking the bartender with a smile, and taking a long sip.

“Mmmm, nice.”

Santana sat down beside her and ordered another, shrugging at the bartender’s confused look.

“She, um, decided she liked the place.”

She nodded and went to help some other patrons down the bar.

Santana and Brittany sat in a companionable silence for a few moments. Sipping their beer and watching the patrons drift in and out. Brittany took a few slow sips of her beer. She wasn’t sure why she’d run over to catch Santana before she left. She supposed she was feeling nostalgic as well, but there was more than that. Maybe it was loneliness talking, but after being without her for so long it finally felt good to be with her.

So, for now, she wouldn’t think about it. She wouldn’t try to qualify it, she would just enjoy her company. There was no reason not to. Santana wanted to respect her and give her space, and even though they’d been through so much, Brittany still trusted her.

She sat her beer down with a thump. “I can’t believe we’re still going to clubs and drinking all night.”

Santana laughed. “Well, back in the day we were drinking the cheapest liquor we could find and stuffing ourselves into Kurt and Rachel’s tiny apartment cause we couldn’t afford the cover at most clubs.”

They laughed.

“It was nice. You know? Those days. It’s nice to be nostalgic once in a while. Back when things were simpler. When everything was clear.”

Brittany’s voice trailed off, and Santana knew that she was talking about them. The two of them. Back when Brittana was simpler. When it was just a matter of telling your parents that you were in love with your best friend and then going to glee club and singing about it. Back when she could shimmy up the trellis of the Pierce house, crawl into the window that Brittany never locked, and climb into bed with her, wrapping her arms tight and letting go of all her fears. She’d never doubted for a moment that Brittany would take care of her. And she always thought she’d be there to take care of Brittany.

“Brittany, I-”

Suddenly, the first strains of ‘Gimme More’ blasted out from Brittany’s pocket. She reached in and grabbed it.

“Sorry, Santana, I’ve gotta take this.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Hi, Clark!” She said, excitedly, connecting the call and putting the phone up to her ear. “Yeah, yeah. What? Right now?”

Brittany turned slightly towards Santana, but didn’t make eye contact.

“Are you sure? Well, it’s kind of- I’m-” Brittany paused and took a breath. “Give me a second, ok? Thank.”

She finally fully turned to Santana. “Hey, um, sorry, my friend is free, and he wants to hang out, and we missed each other yesterday, so… I don’t mean to ditch you, but I just feel like he’s so busy, and we don’t get to see each other as often as we want…”

Brittany trailed off, hoping Santana would pick up the hint.

“Oh yeah.” Santana waved nonchalantly. “It’s cool. I was getting ready to head out anyway. Go, meet your friend, have fun.”

“Are you sure?”

Santana had never been more unsure of anything in her life, but she’d made a promise to herself. She wasn’t going to get in the way when it came to Brittany. She had to try.

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, get out of here, have fun.”

Brittany pulled her phone back up. “Ok, I can be outside my place in half an hour. Yeah? Okay, see you then. Bye!”

She smiled and ended the call, hopping off her stool, and pounding back the last of her drink. “Sorry, Santana, I didn’t even know he was going to call.”

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you.” Brittany leaned over, wrapping her arms around Santana in a tight hug.

It was different than their hug before, less desperate, less needy. More comfortable like an old sweatshirt that you got in high school, and still wear on cold days when you want to stay in an binge old kung fu movies. It was a hug that felt like home, and that was a feeling Santana hadn’t had in a long time. She wrapped her arms around Brittany, only loosening after she felt the other woman do so.

“Have a good night, Brittany.”

“Thanks. And Santana?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad that you’re in town.”

Santana smiled. "Me too, Britt."

This is a fic that will update everyday until Valentine’s Day 2017. To truly enjoy please put on (Sweet Sweet Baby) Since You’ve Been Gone by Aretha Franklin. :P

FF.net link and Ao3 link.