#half a dozen kids in my lobby with BELLS

[firstdegreefangirl]

Dear my, but these bells sure are bells.

[missjaystone]

What’s up, Doc?

This is my submission for darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ ‘Watching-Stalker AU Challenge’ (And yes, after asking initially from an entirely new account before posting on a secondary blog, I’m too embarrassed to tag Roo again.)

Prompt 11: Everyone knows about celebrity stalkers, but what happens when a celebrity is the stalker? Kinks: Forced Pregnancy/Breeding, A/B/O

Word Count: 3000

Relationship: Dark!Steve x Fem!Reader x Dark!Bucky Trigger Warnings: nonconsensual/dubious consent, forced pregnancy/breeding, A/B/O dynamics, abuse of power(?). PLEASE DONT READ IF THESE OFFEND YOU (PS Everyone: I’m sorry to redirect everyone to another blog but I’m too nervous about having 'missjaywrites’ as only a secondary blog. The first blog post on miss_jay_stone with stay but that blog is officially abandoned. Henceforth everything will be posted here.)

Being a doctor meant stressful moments, being a military doctor meant stressful days, weeks, months, or years. However, being a doctor specifically for the Avengers was an entirely new level of pressure. Being the person to patch up or perform surgery on literal superheroes made you miss working in the middle of warzones. You knew one wrong move could quickly spiral into a major issue, but you knew this when you took the job.

The choice itself wasn’t easy, there were more than enough reasons for you to respectfully decline, reasons like; despite being as accomplished as you were, you were still fairly young, the pressure was enough to age someone half a century, there were about a dozen security measures in place to make sure you said nothing to anyone, numerous contracts and NDAs to sign, and possibly the biggest reason to say ‘no’ was what you really were. An omega. You could very well be arrested because of how many official government forms you’d falsified and signed stating you were a Beta. You did what you had to do to accomplish your goals and it landed you in the medbay of the Avengers compound, often in close contact with the numerous Alphas on the team.

In your opinion, you were pretty physically average and never thought of yourself as someone that turned heads. That was more than fine by you, the less attention you had on you the better. Recently, though, you felt something subtle change, you always felt like somebody was looking at you, even if nobody else was around. The constant feeling and incessant nagging in the back of your mind sent a chill up your spine daily. There were some days where you found yourself feeling something like an internal tug towards whatever alpha was close by and now more often than not, the closest alpha was one of the two blue-eyes super soldiers. If you had listened to the alarm bells in your head, you would have left your job the moment you felt something strange.

You would’ve moved to Calgary or Portland or Dallas, but you brushed it off as silliness and an overactive imagination. And because of that, here you were, stuck in a web of your own design, your protruding stomach a reminder of the mistakes that led to this situation. Of course, you’d love them when they arrived but that wouldn’t lessen the naivete you felt for falling into their game. Their words forever holding your heart and soul firmly in a vice grip. “C’mon, doll, you can be our good little ‘mega and get everything you could ever want” “We can keep your secrets safe, we’ll make sure nothing bad can ever happen to you.” The words seem to play on repeat in your mind. You can pinpoint the exact moment a small mistake led to where you were now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 8 Months Prior~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, where are you going all dolled up like that?” Your colleague and friend Alex asked as you stepped out of the storage room with a bundle of clothes in your hand. He paused typing his report to watch you gather your things. “I’m going to a 50s themed party with a guy I’ve been seeing and he’ll be here to get me soon,” you answered, motioning to the very-50s inspired outfit you wore. “Lucky you, kid, knock him dead but use protection,” he called with a chuckle as you left towards the elevator. You rolled your eyes at his comment but got a chuckle out of it yourself. He loved acting like he had 25 years on you instead of 10. The entire elevator ride down you were checking to make sure everything was perfect and not a hair was out of place.

You didn’t even look up when you stepped out of the elevator into the lobby. You did however look up, when you collided with a firm body. Your apologies were stopped by two things; the feel of cold metal on your back thru the thin fabric of your top and the strong scent, familiar scent of cedar & sandalwood and sage & pine. “I’m so sorry about that Captain Rogers, Sargent Barnes; that was totally my fault for not looking and I’m incredibly sorry to have almost steamrolled you,” you rambled awkwardly as you hurriedly tried to step back and put space between you and them. It took several long moments before Bucky removed his hand from your back, putting both in his pockets.

“Don’t worry about it, accidents happen,” Steve said with a smile that just didn’t seem quite right. There was an uncomfortable couple of seconds where you felt their eyes raking over you and you would’ve sworn their pupils dilated. “You know, it’s funny, you look like you’re straight out of a magazine from the 40s,” Steve said with a chuckle to break the silence. “Thank you, sir, I have a date at a themed party and this is the theme,” you sheepishly replied. The blond cleared his throat to cover what almost sounded like a growl at the name ‘sir’ and his features momentarily hardened when you mentioned it was a date. His smile was quick to return “well we don’t want to hold you up, enjoy your weekend, Doc and we’ll see you around.” You politely thanked him and returned the pleasantry before stepping passed them to leave. If only you had looked back, you would’ve seen them begin an intense, hushed conversation before they disappeared into the elevator.

That little conversation seemed to be when all of this started, but it was only little things that never drew much thought. At least, it started small; things on your desk would be moved, lights would be left on when you showed up the next day, your door would be unlocked, just little things that you couldn’t definitively say you did or didn’t do and the feeling of surveillance being minute and random. Then it got bigger; clothes you’d left at the office would disappear like jackets you kept in case you got cold or a spare change of clothes if what you wore got messed up, and papers you were sure you’d put away would be scattered on your desk but the feeling of being watched was more often, and one or both of them often came around for seemingly any reason. Like when Sam came in to get stitches after a mission, Bucky stood to the side almost brooding when you only mildly acknowledged him to tend to his friend.

Then alarms started to go off in your head but you ignored it. They were celebrities, they were superheroes. There’s no way on Earth they’d give you more than a second though. Your internal alarms kept going off; you never felt alone anymore, even in your own home. Your cozy little home that you’d fallen in love with always felt like somebody else was there or had been there. You often felt like your skin was burning, especially when they were around which was now multiple times a day, you always seemed to run into them. Bucky was normally quiet when you crossed paths, always asking if you felt okay and commenting on your flushed and flustered appearance, taking two steps forward for every step you took away from him. Steve seemed to be more physical whenever you two met around the building, he’d pull you into a friendly hug before you could object and make conversation with you, often brushing hands with you or setting his hand on the small of your back.

It went on like that for two months and you’d never been more thankful for fall to turn to winter, the cold breeze helping to sate your increasingly uncomfortable temperature. You thought everything had passed when you started to feel more normal and they stopped coming around you as often.

One night you decided to stay late to get some reports finished, submitted, and filed properly. It was perfectly fine for a while but then you felt yourself heating up again. Even after removing your scrubs and changing into some clothes you stored here, you were still burning. Soon you were fidgeting in your seat, trying to find some way to quell whatever what happening with you. You ended up nearly running to the bathroom to splash cool water on your face and get something to drink but you should have just gone home.

When you took two steps back into your lab, you were immediately pulling back against someone’s broad chest with superhuman strength. On instant contact, a familiar and unnerving scent surrounded you; cedar and sandalwood. It was Bucky hold your back flush against his chest. Panic set in seconds later when you felt him pressed into your lower back, the size alone was enough to take you out of your paralyzingly-afraid state. But it wasn’t like that helped any; you were an average human and he was a Super Soldier, it took no effort to keep you in his grasp. All he had to do to keep you in line was move one hand around your throat and growl quietly in your ear.

“Easy, doll, if you move too much he may have to hurt you and that's the last thing we want,” a calm voice said, the tone almost soothing. Steve stepped into sight from where he’d been looking at some things on your shelf. “I know you’re probably a little confused but we’ve been keeping an eye out for you. Keeping creeps away at bars, making sure your train ride home goes without incident, taking care of the men you go on dates with. You’ve quite the active social life doll,” his voice was tender as he approached you, gently stroking your cheek.  By now your eyes were wide with bewilderment as your brain attempted to process this situation. “We want you to be our good little Omega, start a family with you, and give you everything you could ever want or need,” Steve continued when your attempt to speak came out in a whimper.

Just as you went to correct him, Steve stopped you, cupping your cheek “please don’t lie to me, doll, we can’t create a future built on lies. We always thought you were a cute little Beta but after running into you that day, we both got a nice strong whiff of your cleverly hidden Omega scent, made us both incredibly hard, especially in that outfit that looked like it was from our time. That little incident made us see you for what you are; a good little ‘mega perfectly tailored for us, made to be our girl and have our pups. Unfortunately, we had to wait sometime to wean you off of those nasty chemical suppressants but now that you’re on the verge of your first heat, your body is more ready than it ever will be to take us,” Steve explained in that eerily calm voice, the intimacy of the town and him gently stroking your cheek was easily beginning to jumble your mind as it told you to do what you’d been fighting for years, what you hoped to always avoid.

“Steve,” Bucky grumbled, finally speaking up when his friend paused, he’d started steadily grinding his hips against yours for friction. “I-I can’t, I d-don’t want this,” you stammered out, nearly biting your lip off to keep yourself from whimpering or moaning as you felt Bucky’s hard-on against you, so close to where you needed but didn’t want it to be. “Well, that’s why we’re giving you a choice, princess. We don’t want anything bad to happen to you and if you’re our girl we can make sure nothing bad ever happens to you. You’ll be the safest person on the planet. Alternatively, people will find out about your status and well, perjury, falsifying federal documents, and falsifying medical documents are serious. You’d lose your medical license permanently and it’ll be at least a decade in prison but that’s not what we want,” Steve reassured before planting a small but quick kiss on your lips and smiling.

“C'mon doll, you can be our good little 'mega and never have to do anything ever again, you’ll never have to worry about money, job security, gross bar creeps, medical issues. We just wanna take care of our girl,” Bucky whispered in your ear, his tone too gentle for the situation. When you began to object again, a strong cramp in your abdomen had you nearly double over with a pained moan. You’d have been on the floor if Bucky wasn’t holding you and Steve wasn’t in front of you. “We can make all of this pain go away right now, just say you’ll be our best girl,” Steve coerced as he moved a few strands of hair out of your face. You knew you couldn’t open your mouth without moaning in pain or screaming so you furiously shook your head. Steve continuing to stroke your cheek, though small, was enough to distract you from noticing Bucky untying and pushing your shorts down.

As much as you hated yourself for it, you moaned out in surprise when you felt Bucky’s cool metal fingers rubbing your clit slowly. The man let out a groan and pulled his hand back, smirking as it glistened in the dimmed lights of the lab “fuck, Stevie, she’s so wet for us.” The words renewed your sense of panic and you began struggling hard. That seemed to be all it took for Steve to let go of his restraint. He lunged forward and captured your lips in a harsh, hungry, and dominating kiss. The blond wasted no time ripping your shirt and bra away, sending buttons flying to the floor. He didn’t break away from the bruising kiss as he began to fondle your breasts, paying extra attention to the nipples. In your state of unwanted pleasure, you didn’t notice Bucky quickly unzipping his pants and pushing them and his boxers down enough to free his aching member.

An entirely new sense of panic filled you when you felt his head nudging at your entrance; you would not make it through this in one piece, they were going to split you in half. When Steve’s lips finally left yours, he haphazardly pulled his member out and pulled you down until your face was level with his cock. When you didn’t do anything, he seemed to signal to Bucky who then buried himself into the hilt and moaned out happily, his breathing hitching as he mumbled “fuck, so tight, feels s'good.” Just as anticipated, you opened your mouth in a silent scream of pain and forced ecstasy, he gladly took the opportunity to thrust into your mouth, making you gag when his tip hit the back of your throat.

It took them no time at all to set a bruising rhythm, their moans and groans combined with your muffled cries of pleasure and fear filled the moan. You hated the way you felt your body betray you, how your core ached from Bucky to go faster, how your mind was quickly falling into the role of a submissive little Omega that you’d avoided all your life. Pretty soon you were beginning to move with them, the logical part of your brain being overshadowed by the need to please the two Alphas violating you.

“That’s it doll, that’s our good little Omega, such a good girl cooperating with her Alphas,” Steve cooed soft praises as he proudly watched the last of your resolve vanish. He took one of your hands and wrapped it around the part of his cock that wasn’t in your mouth, helping you build up a good stroking motion before letting go. He held your hair in a makeshift ponytail and tugged whenever he felt you run your tongue along the veins. Bucky on the other hand had a vice-like grip on your hips as his thrusts gradually became erratic. He reached underneath you and started rubbing your clit quickly, this time with his flesh hand. “C'mon doll, cum for your Alphas, you’re gonna feel so good being our Omega,” he muttered into your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

You couldn’t stop yourself. Between his words and the way he rubbed your clit and Steve’s praises and encouragements, you didn’t stand a chance against doing what he asked. You came with a muffled scream as your searing orgasm raced through every one of your veins, leaving you in a seemingly endless state of white-hot euphoria. You could barely acknowledge the feeling of Bucky erupting inside of you, filling you with his seed. His thrusts slowly becoming more languid.

“C'mon, hurry up,” you heard Bucky say, even though it sounded muffled and far away to you. You admittedly whined at the loss of his member even though he still held you up. You coughed when Steve removed himself, finally taking in deep breaths of air. They switched places quickly, Steve emitting a groan as he entered you more gently than Bucky did. This time, you didn’t hesitate before taking Bucky’s cock into your mouth, just following the part of your brain that said to submit to them, that they alone could bring you this much pleasure and everything they promised. Steve gave a few thrusts before he pulled your hips flush against his and spilled himself with a content moan.

You all but collapsed to the floor when they were done, them being the only reason you didn’t. Bucky scooped you up bridal style after Steve wrapped his jacket around your used, naked form. You were only semi-conscious as they carried you out of the lab, barely awake enough to mumble out “where are we going?” “We’re going to our room, little 'mega, and we’re gonna keep doing this every night until we see you round with our pups and we’re gonna make sure you’re treated like a princess, our princess,” Steve said, using his soothing tone from earlier. Barely clinging to consciousness, you merely nodded. The last thing you remember before passing out into sweet, sweet dreamland was you saying “alphas know best.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Current~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked down at your stomach before looking back at the sonogram in your hands; clear as day, you could see two 8-month-old babies. You’d stopped fighting when the pregnancy tests turned positive, they were very clear that no matter where you went, they’d find you and bring you home. They kept their promise about giving you everything you could ever need or want and protecting you. They kept their promise to keep you safe and always be there for you. You resigned from your position and didn’t renew your rental agreement, officially moving in with them in a bigger room. Once you safely passed the second trimester, they claimed you as theirs and let you claim them as yours. You’re not sure if you’ll ever forgive how this started but it wasn’t so bad.

[writerwrites]

A Cruel Tide

Pairing: Steve Rogers (nomad!Steve) x Reader

Summary: A lost hero thinks she needs saving, but this divorcée’s needs were different, fleeting, and then full of attachment. Can they overcome the burdens on their shoulders and keep their word?

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: Smut 18+, specifically unprotected sex, soft Dom Steve (if you squint), some mentions of a divorce and criminal father and hints of winter holiday cheer.

A/N: *THIS IS A ONE SHOT* This is the Week 1 prompt to the Optimistic Captain Donut Challenge created by @captainchrisbaby​ @captain-a-rogerss , @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho​ , and @donutloverxo ... The Week 1 Prompt was based off of the moodboard below and “What Could Be as Lonely as Love” by Amber Run

“Please come back, Baby. It’s Christmas! Where are you going to go?” She heard her ex plead on the other end of the line as she stood soaking wet in the lobby of a cheap hotel. Even the weather had turned to shit on the first holiday since the divorce. “You didn’t even take your bag. What am I supposed to tell them when they come out of the kitchen with your favorite dessert?”

“The truth.” Her words were as cold as the sleet pelting the glass door by the empty concierge desk. A few taps on the phone screen and it was over, screen black. Silent. Merry Christmas, no more lies. Just as her hand went for the bell again a stranger cleared his throat. Hand snapping back to her side, her gaze caught the movement out of someone by the vending machines in her peripheral vision. It took a minute to place him, the grown out blonde hair seemed darker and his thick beard certainly changed the alter boy appearance that the world had made synonymous with his Captain America persona. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks: this was a wanted man. She could have pulled her phone back out, could’ve called for help or ignored him, but when her eyes met his, despite the long disheveled hair and thick beard, the softness to him was undeniable. The only thing she could muster was a simple, few hours too early, “Merry Christmas.”

“You just missed him, the manager. He left to get a good seat at midnight mass.” His blue eyes flitted to the window and back to you. It was like he was waiting for the woman to say something as he flipped a coin in his hand and tucked it back into one of his pockets. “You’ve got to be cold. No point in waiting around or paying for a room when I’ve got an extra bed.”

Even with his nod for the young woman to follow him she was reluctant, wondering why he had a second empty bed and why he wasn’t with someone for the holidays- even as a fugitive. She couldn’t remember all of their names, never really following all the ‘super terrorism’ headlines, but knew there was at least a half dozen of Stark’s former friends that had stood against him, were arrested, and went ‘missing’ from some prison facility she couldn’t recall the name of.  Despite her mind trying to dredge up whatever fleeting bit of news she’d heard, her feet were still following him through the dim hallway until they made it to his door. “What were you doing in the lobby if you knew he wasn’t there?”

“Vending machine. No room service tonight… I’ll get you some clothes and head back over. Do you want anything?” The grit in his voice was familiar, the sound of exhaustion, and her eyes moved over his frame as he spoke to the door handle and then the closet rather than looking at her. Where had he been while the world was looking for him? She mused as she watched him dig through a duffle bag and pulled out some extra clothes. When he turned to give them to her, the Avenger’s eyebrows knit together. The look of concern made her shoulders turn in self-consciously. “You’re shaking.”

In the subtle exchange of a flannel button up and worn in sweatpants her hands brushed over his, finding them rough with soft and slightly raised scars at his knuckles. “Sorry.” She looked for the bathroom door and stepped around him, pausing before reaching for the handle, talking to her heels. “I’m sorry. Uhmm, no thank you, I had dinner. I’m just cold, wet… Thank you for being so nice to me.” She couldn’t do it, couldn’t pull her gaze off the floor, and with nowhere to go she couldn’t run. An apologetic smile found her lips and he saw it but gave her some space, leaving the room to go back to the vending machines before she walked into the bathroom and changed.

Steve stood at the vending machines, texting on his phone while he dropped money into the machine. His thoughts were on the phone call his superior hearing had overheard and the subsequent stammer in the young woman’s heartbeat. He knew the feeling of love lost too well, but to see it written on her face, to see even her dark skin pallor, it brought back a sorrow he’d thought he’d buried when Peggy died. By the time his ordered assortment of chips, cookies, and honeybuns had thunked to the bottom Natasha and Sam had joined him in the lobby. “I’m not sure she’s going to talk to me.” Steve started, only to be interrupted by Natasha.

“I told you that I should have gone in. You’re not as clever as you think you are, Rogers.” Nat smirked, leaning against the wall after catching a bag of chips he tossed at her. “We’re running out of time. The longer he’s out there…”

“It’s not that. She was on the phone when she came in and it wasn’t about her father. Something doesn’t add up. Why would she even make this trip?”

“Eavesdropping on phone calls? Step up your game. She’s been tapped for a week, we don’t need your ears, we need a conversation. You got this, brother. Do what you’ve got to do to get her to talk.” Sam gave him a smirk and clapped Natasha on the back. He heard Steve, but time was of the essence and with no one at the prison talking, their targets only connection to the outside world, that they knew of, was sitting in this hotel room and they needed answers. “If you can’t make it happen then send Nat a text and we can pretend she’s back for the other bed early.”

“Whatever it takes,” Nat crushed the empty bag in her palm and chucked it over the concierge desk and into a waste bin as Steve nodded and walked past his comrades, but the blonde grabbed his arm. It would have been an understatement to say she hadn’t taken the agreement to have Steve lead the interrogation felt a little personal, but she knew he could do it, perhaps just not as quickly as her. “Try and have a little fun while you’re at it, Cap.”

The jacket dripped into the tub as it hung over the shower curtain rod. It was on sale, a thoughtless gift from her father three years ago, but the only coat she owned with lining since the separation led to a move to Miami. The knee length silver dress was new and now ruined, tag discarded in the trash and the heels next to it over the vent. As she looked in the mirror, water running for what seemed like an hour before it reached lukewarm, she twisted her dark locks so that they were out of her face and less likely to frizz. The waxy soap doing little to rid her of the full face of make up which hadn’t budged in the fray of arriving at the one hotel in the small town that she could afford. Despite freshening up, her body was still shaking. The flannel’s too long sleeve flapped past her fingertips and the sweats kept riding down to the widest point of her hips, making her look like a tired college kid.

With both of the beds made, she couldn’t be sure which one to take and settled for the one nearest the bathroom. As soon as she collapsed onto it she could smell the same scent as the shirt she now wore. The distinct sweet woody smell of patchouli, slightly cloaked in a hint of fabric softener. Her teeth chattered as the door opened, but she didn’t bother to move outside of hiding her face. She felt the weight of his body slumping onto the mattress at her side, the sound of plastic raining down on the sheets was what made her peak her head out. “Oh, wow! Was there a malfunction in the machine?”

His steely blue eyes looked at the young woman with worry but it seemed to melt away in a blink or two. “No, I couldn’t decide and I remembered you said you’d had dinner but not dessert, so Merry Christmas.” Both of their fingers moved toward the honeybun and he laughed a little, “A deal? One of us gets the honeybun, the other gets to pick the movie?”

Her chin quivered, as she tried to smile while she reflected on the options. “No deal. We split the honeybun and agree on a movie.”

Taking her lip in her teeth to stop the chatter and anxiety, her sad eyes looked up at him. “All right, you win.” He got up and passed her the remote, taking his time to go back to the closet where he turned up with a stack of clothes under his arm and socks in his hand. “Here, I forgot these. I’m just gonna hop in the shower, maybe be five minutes. No stealing my half or starting a movie without me.”

By the time he emerged, warm steam poured out of the bathroom with him. Steve thought she would have warmed up and calmed down, the sound of her heartbeat and shivering no longer ringing in his ears. Instead, he found all of the food in a little pyramid on the nightstand and a black and white movie waiting for them on the television. “You can have the whole honeybun if we can watch this…”

The glimmer in her eyes and swollen red bottom lip, she could tell he knew she’d been chewing on it the whole time. He slumped back onto the bed next to her, his damp hair dripping down into his beard. His brow furrowed thinking she’d leaned in when it was just his weight on the cheap mattress sliding her in. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t pulled away immediately and then she felt the shiver of his warm, minty breath on her skin. A wave of relief washed over her when his features warmed. “No deal, we split it and we’ll watch your movie.”

His words had been whispered and he didn’t pull his blue eyes from her face. She felt naked being looked at so seriously and her eyes moved down the slope of his nose to the beard. Reaching up, her small hands brushed the droplets of water out of it, surprised to find it softer than she could remember a beard being. Her thoughts immediately went to the last beard she touched, the last hotel room, the last person she wanted to think about and her thighs clenched together with want while her eyes pressed together to hold back the emotions she had been running from for a year and had literally sprinted from an hour ago. “It’s The Lemon Drop Kid… it’s the Silver Bells movie.”

Steve leaned his face into her palm and offered up a simple grunt of acknowledgement before he opened his eyes again. She watched him in shock, that little act of intimacy making her aware of how lonely she was in this world. He seemed to notice, covering her hand in his. “Your hands are still cold.” The tension between them, the unblinking gaze, the whispered words, both of their hearts were racing. Steve caved, giving her a choice. “Want me to stay? It would probably be easier to share snacks?”

Before she could stop herself she was nodding and he was leaning over her, taking the honeybun off the nightstand before collapsing back on the pillows. Steve watched her lick her lips but assumed it was a natural reaction to the honeybun passing her nose. With her hands pulled to her chest, she swallowed when his solid frame hung in front of her for that fleeting second and when it was gone her hands covered her mouth to stop herself from taking in a deep breath of the intoxicating smell of him. Her eyes stayed glued to the television as she blew shaky breaths onto her fingertips. The monologue in her mind about all the little anxieties of life that led her to the desperate place where she was okay sharing a hotel room with a fugitive stranger over Christmas was louder than the man opening the plastic, chewing, starting the movie, and then talking to her about her half of the honeybun. Her dark eyes blinked at him when his face was in front of her again, her thick lashes fluttering in confusion. “Hmm?”

Steve set the snack down and took her hands in his, rubbing them gently as his callouses brushed against her soft skin and his beard tickled her palms when he brought them to her full lips. He only let one hand go with a nod to the food before he continued on his little mission. She nibbled at the sticky treat and watched him, holding it out every bite or two for him to steal a bite for himself until it was gone. Nothing made sense to her anymore, she wasn’t a flirt and certainly never fell into the category of being overtly trusting. He picked up on the nerves, the expression of her being trapped in her thoughts, it reminded him of Bucky and a pang of guilt to his closest friend being in an icebox in Wakanda fleetingly hit him. Neither of them needed to be alone with their thoughts on a holiday, he decided, so he tried to get to work and strike up a conversation, “Why’d you pick this movie? Not trying to make me feel good by picking an oldie, are you?”

“I used to watch it with my dad… Everyone has a go to Christmas movie, I guess. I just didn’t think I’d see it on television. When it comes to holiday movies, I guess most channels play Miracle on 34th Street if they’re doing a classic… most do the newer films. Do you have a favorite?” She watched him settle in next to her once more, reaching for his hands as he pulled away and, to her surprise, he took it back in his and draped the other arm over her shoulders.

She grabbed a pack of cookies with her free hand and Steve’s blue eyes watched her more than the movie. The woman no longer shook or shrunk in on herself with a little bit of reassurance and comfort, again, reminding him of Bucky. “Why aren’t you with him this Christmas? Why aren’t you with anyone?”

The questions felt immediately too intrusive, despite the casual tone in his voice and her body tensed against his briefly before she decided they were totally normal questions. “I haven’t heard from him in two years. I don’t really have people… I gave up most of my friends over a relationship that ended a year ago.” Her gaze fell to her hand in his, the ring finger glaringly naked as the Avenger’s thumb brushed over her knuckles. “You have a lot of scars too.”

He was processing every word and micro-expression when his gaze followed hers to his hands, initially wondering if she’d heard something about his story. “Part of the job. I take a lick just fine though.”

She nodded, noting the present tense to his response before deciding she hadn’t meant just the scars on his hand. Though she didn’t really know the depth of it, there was some mutual sentiment she couldn’t put her thumb on with him. “Doesn’t make it right. There’s enough pain in the world to not need to carry the memory of it on our skin until the end of time.” Her own were hidden under the long sleeves of his flannel and she’d almost forgotten how she swam in it despite her curvy frame. “Have you seen this one before?”

“No, I missed out. I’m sure I’ll love it. I’ve always been a fan of film.” He stole a cookie, mulling over how to keep the conversation on her father, “I’m sorry you haven’t talked to your father. Have you thought about calling him tonight? Tis the season, right?”

“It’s easier said than done.” She sighed. “I don’t have a number to reach him and he doesn’t have mine. I… I don’t even know if he’s alive.” The words came out in such a broken way, at first rushed and full of closed off frustration- not at Steve but the situation. Then came the familiar burn of grief and the internal conflict of trying to determine how much information was too much information to share on the subject. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” He quickly interrupted her apology, but he felt the damage had been done. Steve pulled her to his chest in a slow but gentle hug and again she didn’t fight it. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his strong pulse beneath the hard muscles and her legs tangled in his as his sweats slipped lower on her hips. “For what it’s worth, I can’t get a hold of the person I’d like to spend the holiday with, too. Missed a lot of Christmases.” He swallowed down the knot in his throat, “Maybe we can just focus on being present and what we can change.”

Resting her chin on his chest, she looked up at him, “If you want to talk about it, you can. I’m a better listener than a talker.” It was true, after a year of keeping a massive secret about an ended marriage full of them, she became a master of doing as she was told.

Steve moved his hands up her back, inadvertently sighing when she pressed herself closer. They were both touch starved and though he thought he should keep his guard up, that this was work, the way she looked at him made his new hard exterior feel like a facade. Looking at her through his long lashes, he felt torn for the first time between the job and physical needs, his thoughts trying to just find some balance. His palm brushed against the skin peaking out at her lower back, “I don’t really have much to say about him. My best friend, he’s getting some help and I can’t be with him while he’s doing it. I feel helpless about it and then a bit torn up about missing more time with him. It’s a complicated relationship and complicated circumstances.”

Reaching up, she scratched her fingers through his beard, “But does he know that you’d be there supporting him if you could?” Steve nodded and she offered up a small smile and a few more words, “Then that’s all that really matters. You’ll be there for him once you can. I may not know anything about you outside of this room or by any names except ‘Steve’ or ‘Captain America’, but I can tell the news read you wrong.”

Her dark eyes searched his as she chewed on her bottom lip. Though she’d never thought of herself as a good judge of character and had certainly found good in horrible people, the man’s little gestures and something in those blue eyes told her that she didn’t need to be afraid of him. His hands moved up her back, under the flannel shirt massaging the soft expanse of her supple curves. Just as slowly, she untangled her legs from his, the sweatpants slipping down her thick thighs with the traction. She left them there, climbing onto his lap with little regard to the fact that she was now in her silky knickers on a soldier’s lap, fingertips still pawing at his beard. Steve’s hands moved over her waist, her body as pliable as his wasn’t and he watched her throat and savored the hiccup in her pulse every time his hands brushed over a new part of her skin. “We should probably…”

With a nervous laugh she agreed, but her hips were still rocking against him and his mouth was still inching closer to hers. “…or we could ju-”

Steve wouldn’t be able to explain why he’d crossed this line later when Nat and Sam asked him about the lack of intel. A part of him didn’t care. Her full lips were soft against his and the way her wanton whimpers poured into his mouth when his tongue drew across them made his cock twitch. Every little sound and taste of her made his body react. Steve’s hands reached up her full frame, opening the buttons of his shirt and discarding it until the curvy young woman was on his lap in nothing but her bra and panties. His bright blue eyes were alight as they gleaned over her frame. His sex life wasn’t anything to write home about, chaste in comparison to Sam, Nat, and even Bucky; it also happened to revolve around work- agents in peak shape. He ached for her, a natural beauty with soft edges. Steve palmed up her back and she followed his fingers, helping him undo the clasp before helping the silky number join his shirt somewhere over the edge of the bed. Her eyes were on his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed at the dry knot there, as she continued rolling her hips against his. The woman’s were cheeks pink with embarrassment at her level of exposure in the warm light of the room, the tips of her fingers slowly plucking at his own clothes before Steve leaned in and pulled her mouth back to his. “You’re beautiful.”

The sweet words pouring from his lips just before they latched onto her breasts made her laugh and then gasp for air. His tongue drew circles around her nippled before he nipped at them and his hands caressed the soft flesh. As he marked her with three wine stained blemishes on her chest, she finished removing his shirt, only laughing again at the contrast of his toned body to her swelling curves. Her laughter filled the room as he smiled against her skin and she responded by reaching into his pants and stroking him until he was completely hard in her hand. She couldn’t help herself, panties soaked from every touch. She pulled them to the side, rubbing her wet slit against his length. Like animals they both pawed and groaned over the new friction. “Do you want me?” Her nervous whispered words brushed against his ear and Steve lifted her off his lap just enough to pull shimmy off his pants and line himself up to her entrance. Pulling his mouth to hers she kissed him softly, slowly lowering herself onto him despite his firm grip on her waist a clear bruising plea for more. “Be gentle with me.”

Steve groaned as he filled her slowly and completely, her warm wet cunt milking him as she gasped into the curve of his neck. His lips ghosted across every inch of her skin as he stretched her out, hardly moving or encouraging her to move, simply appreciating how good it felt to be inside her. When her breathing steadied, Steve palmed over her ass and pulled on the silky fabric of her panties like they were reins. Her back arched and she started to grind on his cock, her clit taut against the fabric and his pelvis only causing her to moan loader as she gripped the soldier’s broad shoulders. With a firm clap and squeeze to the round soft skin of her cheeks she picked up her pace, eyes closing with satisfaction as his thick cock filled her and stroked her walls again and again. “Good girl.” He groaned, his hands moving down her thick thighs, the veins in his arms prominent as he helped lift and drop her down on his length. Steve’s blue hues settled on the view of her dripping down his length, so wet for him. How long had it been since he gave in to just wanting someone? His thoughts were fleeting, drawn back to the reality of the stranger riding him like she hadn’t been satisfied in her entire life, now her fingers pulling his mouth to her, but he nibbled on her lip and pushed her back, his mouth drawn back to her full breasts.

With here hands clutching the bedsheets behind her, back arched as she rode his slow deep thrusts into her, she couldn’t help but tighten around him, watching him hold her was one thing… a simple delight she’d not had in a year. It was listening to him grunt and growl when her pussy throbbed around him because of the little delights. As he sucked on her breasts and he squeezed her ass holding her down on his thick cock with every thrust, she felt him hit her sweet spot, sending little heat waves through her core until she was begging. “I’m so close. I need you, Steve. Please, please make me cum.”

Steve obliged, easily laying her back on the bed and tangling his legs in hers as he lowered his weight onto her small frame. His hips rutted against her and he grunted against her mouth between greedy kisses while his hands, which had been pinning her to the bed spread her legs further apart, giving him complete access to push her over the edge. She bit her finger on one hand as the other pulled at his thighs, muffling her pleas for release, “Come on, sweetheart. Let me hear you. Let me hear that beautiful voice say my name.”

His thumb brushed over her clit in teasing flits, back and forth and her hand left her swollen lips, clutching his wrist as he continued to rub her sensitive bud through her release. “Steve! Please. I…” Her orgasm came hard, pouring her juices over his cock he kept warm and deep inside of her, savoring that tight pussy now clutching him like she’d never let go and all the subsequent little earthquakes from his ministrations on her clit. Her thighs shook and she laughed and purred and pleaded, but he gave it to her and when she was undone on the bed, his hard length still deep inside he laid down next to her, and rubbed her back. “Don’t stop.” She whispered after a tired soft kiss up his neck to the scruff of his beard at his jaw. Her leg slid over his hip and, again, he abided her request, his hand moving down that leg and back until he was sure she was ready. Her soft kisses confirmation as he began to rock into her once more.

This wasn’t just a fuck, it was slow and sensitive, pleading. He worshiped every inch of her as he felt her soak his cock two more times from the slow, deep grinding and nipple play. Each time he marked her skin with another hickey, groaning into her neck and shoulder and mouth about how sexy listening to her cum was, how good she felt around him, how perfect her soft curves were. The praise made her throb around him and he pulled her onto his chest, asking her where she wanted him to finish. Her pleading to stay inside her, the purrs of how much she loved being full of him set him off.  She rested her body gently against him and, cradled there, he claimed her in broken and hungry thrusts, his coarse hands holding her tightly to his frame as a final thrust to the hilt and he poured hot spurts of his seed into her. Her lips brushed across his salted skin before she let out a satisfied sigh. His blue eyes closed, a sleepy laugh passing his lips, “It doesn’t get better than this does it?”

Her tired eyes peaked open at him and she giggled as his hands flopped to their sides, only his finger tips tickling her tired thighs. “I’ve never had better.”

A peaked ‘hmm’ passed his lips as if to ask, is that so, but neither of them had energy to spare for conversation. Steve managed to tuck one arm under his head, his heavy eyes watching her slowly fall asleep, the unprofessionalism of his decision to sleep with her now sinking in as the charm of her melted into a warm, silent comfort. In bittersweet introspection he thought of how to rectify the interrogation that needed to happen. Knowing she wasn’t from this city and likely to go home under the circumstances, he settled on making plans to find her in a week. Nat and Sam wouldn’t be happy, but he’d find a way to keep them busy with other leads until he could talk to her again. Silver Bells echoed through the room and Steve fell asleep, just for a little while, basking in the comfort of being adored and held rather than objectified or idolized. For the first time, he dreamt of a dance with a partner that wasn’t Peggy.

The familiar quiet buzz of her phone woke her up with a cat-like stretch and sigh, momentarily forgetting where she was. Clumsily smacking her hand around in the direction of the sound she quickly hit the wall of muscle at her side. “Good Christmas morning. You’re up early.” He smiled with a quiet laugh on his lips. “I plugged your phone in when mine stopped charging. I think all your messages are coming in.”

Her eyes sheepishly looked up from the pillow at him, processing the fact that the night hadn’t been a dream. “Merry Christmas morning, Sir. You’ve been up long?”

With a shrug, he let her process the fact that he was in dark tactical gear. He broke her thought process with the soft whisper of her name, waking her up with delightful surprise and curiosity as his expression looked hopeful. “What are you doing New Years Eve?”

She bit her lip and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling with no desire to look at her phone or confess how dull. “Home alone, I guess.”

“Don’t have to be if you don’t want to.” Steve set his phone next to hers and slid down next to her, “All you have to do is ask.”

Her heart raced and she felt like she was still dreaming, but he reached out and brushed her dark hair from her eyes and met his gaze as Steve waited for her answer. “Find me in Miami and kiss me at midnight?”

With a satisfied hum, he closed the space between them. Steve hovered over her, craning his neck down for a quick peck when she shyly pressed her lips together. “That explains the coat.” He laughed, unpinning her so she could get out of bed, watching her as she slipped out of bed and picked up clothes from the floor as she tiptoed to the bathroom. Though she hadn’t gotten the door closed, she already saw her things neatly folded on the edge of the sink, a little travel kit set atop it all. As if he could see her smile, he hollered toward the door. “I hope you don’t mind that I spoke to the manager when they came in this morning about needing some basics.”

The rest of the morning went by too quickly for either of their liking. He didn’t join her in the shower, distracted by a disagreement in a group text with Nat, Sam, and the other nomads about trying to interrogate her again in a week. Meanwhile, she was glad for the privacy to do her hair and clean the night from her brown skin, the only reminders left were the tender aches and the plum bruises. Just thinking about it made her wet again and, despite the work related distraction in his hands his superior hearing made him hear her moan more than once, making his twitching cock semi-hard in his tac suit. He sat with her while she waited for her ride, he took her number, and when he kissed her goodbye, his flannel shirt tucked into her purse, both of them found a slice of happiness in a lonely holiday.

The loft apartment felt vacuous compared to the cheap hotel room, but she managed to make the most of the long week. Decorating the place with a small tree draped in tinsel and silver bell ornaments, draping the window sills and counters in twinkling garland, and counting down the days to New Years Eve. Each day felt like a month, trying to reconnect with her father while juggling her meaningless job. Each night she pulled on his shirt and her hands slipped between her thighs until she fell asleep blissed out in the memory of their night together. There hadn’t been a single word from the nomadic Captain until a dozen roses waited for her on the doorstep of her apartment, a small card with silver bells detailing the corners that simply read: One more day, doll. - S.

Though Steve thought a week’s wait to see her again would have been painless compared to the lifetime he’d missed in ice or the subsequent years he’d spent mindlessly droning on until he joined the Avengers, but the task had been anything but speedy for an unexpected reason. Sharing the limited information he’d gathered, Nat and Sam took new perspectives on getting the answers they needed for their mission, all three of them tasked with finding people connected to the family. All the digging, shared intel, pointed to an intricately planned prison escape gone wrong. While Nat and Sam thought his worries for their target’s daughter were unfounded due to estrangement, Steve had every intention of keeping his word, simply too busy moving and looking for answers to engage in the formalities of modern flirtation. Every day was busy with work and every night, surrounded by pictures and papers, he’d wonder if she was drowning in thoughts of him too. The roses were his way of making it up to her, his confession, and every detail was carefully thought over.

As she sat in the twinkling holiday lights, the sun long since set. She clicked on the television to a channel showing the Ball Drop in New York, muting it to play her own playlist of holiday songs. To be fair, Steve hadn’t given her a time he’d show up. Cracking open the red wine, she danced alone in the shimmering silver dress that ghosted across her knees and hugged her hips, time slipping by mildly unnoticed with each sip and song. Just as she’d descended into the cushions the door to the apartment opened, startling her and causing her wine to spill across the cushions. It was the broad shoulders filling the doorway that made her hold in her scream. The familiar silhouette stood speechless and her mouth bobbed open and closed like a fish when they closed the space between the living room and front door. Her eyes moved to the television, expecting to see some sort of red tape Breaking News alert that pigs could now fly. Instead, her eyes fell on the time, bright white in the corner and reading seven minutes past midnight. She ran her tongue across her painted lips, closed her eyes, and laughed. Fate, she decided, had little regard for New Year promises.

Taglist: @caplanbuckybarnes​

[artsyxloner]

Not just a Monster

Warning: blood, violence, death, making out

20: Fallen Hero

When searching for Cha Hyun-Su, I found him at the staircase. He was rubbing his hand with a blank stare. Seeing him again I began to get nervous, losing my Confident demeanor.

Remembering what I did. " you know it's not good to be alone all the time? you should stick with your buddy." I joked, gaining Hyun-Su attention. Sitting down, but he didn't say anything.

I frowned, wondering what was wrong? I then thought of an idea, grabbing his face I turned it over towards me. Scooting close, again I could tell he was holding his breath. I was making the first move again.

" who was it this time?" I ended up, caressing his jaw with my thumb moving it around in circles where I kissed him. " You get this look on your face when someone gives you a hard time."

I let go, laying my hands on my lap.

" I've noticed." He had looked down, to hide his face. But I followed, he was cute when he was being all bashful. It was my fault entirely. " hey, when some try's to fuck with you do this."

I mimicked what Eun-Yoo does making the bam sounds with my fingers. It meant cussing someone out in Sign language. I showed him, " that's all you have to do." I smiled, nudging his shoulder.

" you try." I offered, bringing his hand up he tried to do it but failed miserably. I laughed. " that was terrible, but you'll get it." I saw a little blush appear on his cheeks. " here," I took his hand in mine. " this is how you do it."

I brought his pointer finger up then folding it down, then I did the same thing with his pinky, middle, and thumb. I kept doing it until his pinky was the only thing left up.

I hooked it with mine, making a promise but I wasn't going to tell him, what it was." There you just made me a promise." I could tell he was confused, " What promise?" I rocked our hands back and forth a bit.

" this." I went for it seeing no one was around not that I cared. Regardless I needed to kiss him. I quickly leaned in planting a soft kiss, on his big lips. Cupping his face with my hands. I pressed my lips down Further.

He was stiff into the kiss, his lips felt dry and as rough as I thought. As mine moved against him, please kiss back I thought as as if he could read my mind. " screw it!" I heard him mumble, into my lips he kissed back.

I smiled, " God, if this turns out bad it's on you!"  He murmured, his arm hooked around my waist holding me tight to where I couldn't get out." then I'll just have to live with it!"

His continued to kiss me but we had to pulling away to catch are breaths. I was breathing hard so was he I placed my forehead on his, he was staring back at me with his dark ones. " —How was it?" he questioned, I laughed shaking my head. " you could use some Chapstick."

I teased trying to get him flustered more because they my lips tingle so bad. He seemed embarrassed now trying to cover them but I stopped him. " but hey, I like them that way."

I moved some of his bangs out of this face pushing them back out of his face. " I didn't take you as the touchy lovely Dovey type." Eun-hyuk's voice startled me. I jerked back, did he seriously have to be here? I wondered if he saw the whole make-out session.

" how long have you been standing there?" I stood up, he glanced down and smirked fixing his round glasses. " long enough." I rolled my eyes, only a perv would watch someone kiss somebody.

I tried to change the subject, " what are you doing here anyway?" I crossed my arms. Hoping he would move on and answer my question. " We'll be turning the water off soon, thought you guys might want to wash up before we do."

He informed us I remembered earlier when everyone was all cleaned up at dinner. " Eun-Yoo already has some clothes for you to borrow." he motioned his head, out the door. " she waiting by the restroom."

I nodded, not before whispering something in Hyun-Su's ear then leaving. Heading down to the restroom there waited Eun-Yoo. She had some black joggers and a white shirt.

" so where have you been?" She gave the clothes to me. I could only smile, thanking her. " I kissed him." After saying this her eyes went wide Beaming with curiosity. " is he a good kisser?" she followed me into the girls' restroom.

Taking a cigarette box out of her back pants pocket she took one lighting it. As I went to drawl the thick dark curtains around me. I didn't like changing in front of people. " well considering it was my first kiss I would say yeah."

I told honestly, taking off my clothes throwing them over where they hung metal poles. " he was your first kiss?" I drawled the curtain back popping out my head nodding. My lips were in a thin line as doing so.

" Wow, even so, when the world goes to shit that's when you get your first kiss." she blows out smoke, " well I'm going to let you shower I'm going going to bug some people." She waved bye leaving the restroom.

Of course, I thought smiling Turing on the water, it comes out fast a cold. It sent shivers down my spine but I got used to it since it's been so hot out. taking the set of soap I scrubbed my body off twice making sure to get all the blood, dirt, and sweat off from top to bottom.

I probably stunk but considering everyone was like that I'm pretty sure they couldn't tell. Finishing up with my hair I wiped off my body with a towel I pulled on my newish clothes.

I stared at myself in front of the mirror looking back at my reflection. I was surprised to see a different person. One where there was no dirt, blood covering my face like a mask. Now I was clean I felt good and refreshing.

I soon picked up my old clothing dumping them in a bin where everyone else's clothes were cleaning up after my self I walked out. Heading to the lobby to see Sang-Wook and Hyun-Su inter the elevator.

He was wearing a yarn striped green and pale orange sweater. I swore his hair looked shorted for some reason. I was about to call him wondering why they were going up there?

But the elevator door closed before I could say anything. So I waited for them sitting on the brown leather couch. Picking at my nails seeing how short they were. Ms. Cha had stepped in. She was usually with the little kids.

She was staring at something in front of her turning my head my eyes caught a red light and the numbers were counting down from one. It must be the guys' back but so soon? It sometimes takes an hour or so.

" Was it just the two guys" that went up?" she questioned but it was more like she was asking herself. But I nearly jumped when a loud ringing was disturbed from the air.

I covered my ears, But then Remembering it's the bell that Signal when a monster is near. The elevator door dinged open revealing one guy standing in the door his back was facing us and he smelled awful as it hurt my nose flies were flying everywhere.

Oh, God!

I was about to stop her but it was too late. " sir?" It soon twisted its head around as its mouth opened up and dozens of flies came out. I almost puked. But its body turned around facing frontwards no.

Ms. Cha screamed, as it came at her but I hurriedly got up pulling her out of the way grabbing her arm. But it kept coming for us as it swung its electric string trimmer. I ducked as Ms. Cha whimpered, I tried to calm her down but I wouldn't work.

As it swung again at us it almost caught her but I pushed her out of the way before it did. It was just me and the smelly monster guy now. He made weird sounds with his mouth like he was choking or more like gagging.

I backed up, trying to lead it away as far as I can. But not to fear because the others could be put in danger. It raises its trimmer again and I was for sure it was going to hit me.

I closed my eyes seeing I couldn't get away waiting for the hit but nothing came as I heard a clash with metal on metal.

Opening my eyes I saw Jae-Heon, he had held the monster off with his trusty katana sword. Holding it off, " Go! go help Ms. Cha!" He yelled, but what about him?

I didn't have a choice though because he pushed the monster back and I got up running to her to help her out of the way as Jae-Heon fought it. He raised the monster's trimmers with both of his hands gripping his sword.

As it collided with some wired metal roofing creating sparks. He held it there struggling as one of this arms was weak from his previous injury. There were loud clicking noises and grunting as he tried to hold it back.

But he couldn't hold on anymore as it came down, and when it did it brought Jae-Heon's arm with it. I let out an ear-pricing scream that seemed to echo when the blood splattered everywhere hitting me.

I was so stunned seeing his arm fly off, red crimson soaked his entire left side as he fell to the floor. I tried to run and help him but Ms. Cha held me back. Tears began to form. I screamed out again trying to pull away.

He can't die, what about him and Ji-Soo? " No! I have to help him!!" But her grip was tight on me. I couldn't get loose." if you go you'll get hurt too." I shook my head it wasn't right just to stand here and watch.

" he can't- he can't die someone needs to help!!" Soon I heard heavy footsteps coming our way. It was the group, coming to the rescue but they all came to a sudden halt. Gasp we're expressed all around the room.

It was quiet except for my crying struggling to get free. Jae-Heon had gotten up staggering a little. The monster attempted to walk up the small step but couldn't.

Jea-Heon had grabbed his half-broken sword walking closer to the monster getting behind him, he stabbed it in the chest pulling the thing in his embrace pulling him back.

He was leading it to the elevator. My eyes poured with tears realizing I cannot save him. He was sacrificing himself for the safety of the group. Then there was a banging sound with a door being pushed open.

It was a person they were crawling on their hands and knees. It was Hyun-Su was he hurt? He lifted his upper body leaning on a metal storage locker.

He gripped the spear In his hands watching the scene unfold. I could see tears in his eyes. As he fought to get up, mumbling underneath his breath.

When Jae-Heon turned the monster around pressing the elevator door open shoving him inside, there were multiple grunts, as he went in fighting it. He pulled out the sword-swinging it around. As the light kept flickering on and off.

He dodged the trimmers, going over to the front doors pressing the button to close it, as it did the electric door closed and reopened each time there was more blood splatter on the walls.

When it opened again not able to close because the trimmers were in between it stopping the doors from closing Jae-Heon grabbed the monster taking him down to the ground. Puncturing the jug that was attached to the motor that runs the trimmer it leaked gas everywhere.

I knew what he was doing he was going to catch himself on fire. " throw it!!" Jae-Heon yelled to saw Seung-Wan he was holding a bottle with cloth in it that was on fire.

But he didn't throw it too scared to. His body shook. But everyone was tense, not wanting to hurt him more than he already was. Jae-Heon laid on the floor not letting go of the monster red was the only color that was Prominent in the elevator.

" throw it now!!" He screamed again, I saw Eun-hyuk look between him and Seung-wan debating to do what I think he was doing. He ran to him taking the jar waiting for the perfect moment to throw it but also hesitant because he was his friend.

It was weak but Jae-Heon's last words threw it he mouthed. I could see Eun-Hyuk trying to hold back tears but he threw it. It setting everything on fire. I watched as it was burning them up I couldn't look anymore Turing my head away.

My chin began to quiver, as I drawled in deep breaths. I tried to control my sobs, if I had just fought the monster instead of letting Jae-Heon do it he would still be alive.

A/N

So this chapter has whimsical of different emotions. I hope you liked this chapter, I know it's been slow updates but please be patient. I appreciate all your guy's support it means everything!!! 🖤🖤🥺

[hazytaezy]

to a tea. (m) ksj

pairing: jin x reader

word count: 3,923 (not proofread because I’ve been sitting on this fic for two fucking months and I can’t wait any longer bsbdfsbdkj. jin in this universe has been consuming mY LIFE.)

genre: doorman jin, really good friends au, pwp (kinda cause I just build a story around (y/n) finally nailing jin lmao), so that being said smuttiness does ensue!!!, humor because once again I do think I am a comedian

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, language,

“jin is just your doorman. but he’s also your best friend. and you also want to fuck him.”

The giant spinning door leading into your apartment building was both a gift and a curse. A gift because most people found it too complicated and just decided to not come in. Solicitors, guests, bad dates…the list goes on. A curse because, we because of right now. You’re stood staring at the mound of groceries that had just fallen moments ago from your hands. A lone apple still rolling and rolling farther away into the abyss of the front lobby.

Where the hell was Jin?

Lately, when you needed him most, he was no where to be found. In fact, you felt like he was playing opposites because he actually decided to be there during the most inopportune times. Such as a few weeks ago, when you stumbled in with your blind date. Tongues dancing and hands roaming. You felt yourself press against the front desk and was allllllllmost slipping into a blissful euphoria when you heard a throat clearing. There he was, in all his glory. Jin- the doorman. He peered up at your from his seated position and he didn’t have to say a word, but the smug look across his face told you enough. You were never going to hear the end of it. Ever. It took you a full week and a dozen batches of homemade brownies to convince him to stop teasing you.

The bell on the elevator chimed as you were stuffing stray produce back into your bags. Jin got off, arm linked with Miss Roosevelt’s, grinning down at the elderly woman. She had been living in this building since it was developed in 1945 and made fast friends with everyone who had lived there. You had been over to her apartment many times. Mostly, because the mailman was always confusing her apartment for yours. So, it became a weekly ritual to deliver the swapped mail to each other.

Jin carefully removed his arm from hers and pushed the front door wide open. A strong gust of autumn wind blew through the front lobby. Just cold enough to pull tears from your eyes. You watched as he safely tucked her into a cab and sent her off, waving goodbye.

“You know, you do such nice things, so it makes it hard for me to hate you.” Once he had re-entered the lobby you felt the need to share that thought in your mind. Choosing to channel all of your annoyance in re-bagging your groceries.

“Good evening to you too, (y/n).” He jogged towards the other side of his desk and picked up the apple that was somehow still rolling around everywhere as if it had a mind of its own.

“I would just like to remind you that you are my doorman too. Thank you very much!” Reaching out, you tried to snatch the apple from his grasp. But now he was holding it high over his head. Gazing down at you in enjoyment.

This mood of yours- it was always his favorite. Mostly because of the way you would puff your cheeks out when you got annoyed. It was cute. He always wondered to himself how someone so small could be filled with so much fire.

After running the apple across the breast of his suit jacket, he took a satisfying bite, pieces of it peeking through his smile. “How did you know I liked honey crisps?”

“Lucky guess.” You huffed out. The bags were finally hooked over your shoulders, but you didn’t remember them being this heavy on the way out from the store. And definitely not on the subway. And the four blocks you had to walk to get here.

“Give me those bags.” Jin reached out and pulled them away from your grip. You would usually refuse any additional help from him. After all, he was just the doorman. He was only supposed to open doors and greet you from the lobby. That was it. No where in his job description did it say that he would help elderly ladies to their taxi’s or carry groceries up to apartments. That was just Jin being Jin. But if you really stopped and thought about it. You were much past that point anyways. He had started working at the building just around the same time that you moved in a few years ago. A few “good evening’s” blossomed into a friendship that you would be devastated not to have. He was your best friend. And you practically spent every night with him at his desk talking about your days.

“My hero.” You stuck your tongue out at him as you pushed your floor’s button.

“Don’t forget it either.” He smirked and turned to rest against the railing of the golden elevator.

…………………………………………………………..

To put it in the nicest way possible, it was a shit day. You didn’t see any other way to describe it.

When you came through the door, Jin was luckily speaking with another tenant so he didn’t get to see your puffy eyes and reddened face. Who are you kidding anyways. The fact that you are home early would raise some questions. And after a few hours locked in your apartment, as if on cue, those very questions came.

You wanted to ignore the incessant buzzing of your intercom, but it had been going on for a solid five minutes now.

“What!” You pressed the talk button until your finger turned white. It was meant to come out as annoyed, but it had been hours since you had gotten up off of the couch and you had maybe dozed off a few times. So, it came out as more of a meek and measly statement.

“Come downstairs. I have tea.” The intercom popped and you glanced down at your current state. When you had gotten in the door, you immediately stripped yourself of your bleak work clothes and jumped into the matching kitten pajama set your Mom had gotten you last Christmas.

Jin could be demanding. Who did he think he was talking to? Saying “come down.” And “I have tea.” Knowing full and damn well you would march yourself right down there.

When the elevator doors popped open, he let out a long string of giggles and eventually let himself full on belly laugh. “For your information,” you grabbed one of the mugs he was holding “this is Louis Vuitton.” You pointed towards the gold kittens scattered along your pants.

“No it isn’t.” He leaned back in his chair and lightly blew on the lip of his mug. Smirk blazing as hot as his Earl Grey.

“It could be.” You perched yourself on the top of the front desk and glared down at him over mug.

“So…are you going to tell me why you busted through the doors frazzled this afternoon or am I going to have to bribe you with more tea?”

Your thumb ran over the handle of the mug, catching a drop of tea running down the side. “Well, I was fired so…”

“Oh.” Jin sat up straighter in his chair and began to be a bumbling idiot.

“I’m sorry.”

“Uh..I..that’s awful.”

“What can I…I mean like, is there anything I can do?”

You let yourself crack a smile as you gazed down at him. “Wow Jin, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you tongue tied.”

The first time I’ve ever let you see me this way, Jin thought.

“But really. It’s okay. It wasn’t anything I did. It was budgetary. They couldn’t afford me anymore.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Jin’s hand hesitantly moved towards your own. When you finally looked down at your own, he latched his hand on top of yours and let his fingers trace over your knuckles.

Maybe it was the way he touched you, and it wasn’t something you two did often, but you felt something like a surge go through your body. And so that made you want to reach out and touch his face.

So you did.

And he let you.

He got up to stand and wrapped his arms around you, pulling your face to rest against his head. From the few hugs that you and Jin have shared, this one was becoming your favorite. He smelled like a bookstore, but in the best way possible. New pages, fresh ink. It was one you wouldn’t forget. And the small ministrations he would do when he hugged. The tiny movements of his fingers. The gentle humming. You just wanted to curl up and tuck yourself into the pocket of his jacket.

When you both pulled away, he dropped his hands down to rest next to your thighs on the marble desk. You let your eyes drop down to his lips and your mind wondered for a fleeting moment. It’s not like you haven’t ever thought about kissing him, but this time it was something greater. Almost like if you did, it would magically make all of your problems go away. You thought you might be going crazy. I mean there wasn’t a single chance that he was possibly leaning into you.

So when you hopped off his desk, you peered down at your hands and they were shaking. You stuffed them into your hair to keep them busy. “I’m, uhh, I’m gonna go back up. Bye.” You repeatedly hit the up arrow on the elevator and stepped inside. You jammed the door close button as you watched Jin’s silent frame slide away.

…………………………………………

Well. What now.

You can’t go downstairs. He will be there. And this is what? Your third consecutive day inside.

If your calculations were correct, Jin was up for a night off. And you were never wrong about these things. You couldn’t be. That night was tonight. He usually took an evening off and came back to his post and started a shift for the next day at 12 midnight. This would give you plenty of time to go to the grocery and restock at the tea shop.

At this point, you were two bites away from turning into a pop tart. Seeing as how that’s all you had left from your last grocery visit.

Drops of water kept falling from your hair and hitting the top of your foot. You were too broke to have your groceries delivered, but too scared to go out and get them yourself. You had half a mind to climb down the first escape in your robe. Actually… that wasn’t such a bad idea.

You had your window pulled open, leg rising to step out into the cold city air, when you heard knocks at your door.

Through the peephole you could make out Jin’s perfect head.

What the hell was he doing here?

Upon further inspection, he was not dressed in his usual uniform. More casual. Plus a leather jacket. One that made your eyes linger across his shoulders for longer than they should have.

Before you could even get the door fully open, he was speaking. “Hi. I, umm, I got these.” He lifted four grocery bags that were wrapped around his hands. He also had a teapot tucked underneath his left arm. Wordlessly, you moved to the side, signaling him to come in.

“I have a teapot you know.”

Jin scoffed as he set the groceries on your kitchen table. “You have a glorified water warmer. And it only makes one cups worth of water. You are weak if you brew water for tea and only drink one cup.”

You hadn’t moved from your front hallway. You were too busy taking in Jin’s movements. He carefully took out each ingredient from the bag. You would help him, but your feet felt like they were cemented to the ground.

“Where are your cutting boards?” He turned to face you.

“What?”

“Your curling boards?” He had a smirk creeping up on his face. You wanted to reach out and press your fingers in an action to swipe it away.

“No, I know what you said. But what are you doing? Why are you here Jin?”

He breathed in deep. And you wanted so badly to screw your eyes shut, but you couldn’t pull them away from his frame. In all honesty, you wanted to know every single detail about his days since the last time you saw him. But delving into that conversation would lead you to wonder if he had been thinking about you too these past few days. And was his mind spinning every time he thought of you like yours was with him. Was he playing a round of kickboxing with his stomach when he saw something that reminded him of you? Because you sure were. Every single minute of your days has been Jin. And only Jin.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. Look, you ran off so fast the other night. And then I didn’t see you for a million years after that. I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.” Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to you how Jin felt in that moment on that night. Being left alone sitting at the front desk.

You didn’t know how many rounds of jenga you had been playing, but what you did know is that you were about to win. By the look of Jin’s face, he already knew his fate as well. The jenga blocks came crashing down and a few sprinkled into your empty bowls from dinner. After finally showing Jin where your cutting board was, he proceeded to make what you would call probably the best meal you’ve ever had in your life.

You pulled yourself up onto the couch as he called for you from the kitchen. “Rose or Lavender?”

“Rose!”

You felt a lurch in your stomach at the though of a life with Jin. Him calling out what flavor of tea to brew was so…domesticated. And it made your mind wander on how it would feel to press a good morning kiss to his lips. How it would feel to send him off downstairs and even though you two were apart, just knowing that you were in the same vicinity would be enough.

You snapped back into reality when you felt a warm mug being pressed into your hands. Jin had settles down next to you and you watched him bring the mug up to his lips. A bit of tea tickled down the bow of his lips and your hand was itching to wipe it away.

“So what’s next? Job hunting? Seeing the world? Staying locked in this apartment?” Jin laughed and you took note of the way his eyes would glitter when he was laughing.

“Uhh, well, I think what’s next is probably moving out.” Your hands reached down to pick loose threads on the couch. “I can’t afford this place without a steady income. Plus, it’s the city, you know.” You brought your hands up to your face, because you honestly thought you might cry again. After they had given you the news, you had left work with a bleary, tear smeared face. You had thought you had cried enough tears to fill the river across from the apartment, but in this moment you felt them pricking your eyes once more.

Jin wrapped his arms around your shoulder and brought you to sit closer with him on the couch. For a moment, you let yourself rest against his chest. It felt safe. Like you would wake up tomorrow with a job and how things figured out somehow.

“I’m sorry.” You pulled away to stare up at him. “I didn’t think I’d be this upset. It’s just this place has become a part of me. And things have finally become to feel like home for me. Places…” You hesitantly glanced away from him. Unable to look at him, because even your own mind was coming to terms with this reality. “…even people are home to me here. I’m not ready to give that up.”

………

When you woke up, it wasn’t exactly jarring, but you were having difficulty opening your eyes. You grabbed the clock by the couch and it was well after 12 am. Jin must have left after you sat there practically crying into his arms. The last thing you remember was your head hitting his lap as he held you.

The kitchen was spotless. Almost like they hadn’t just been in here making a mess with dinner. There was a note taped to the kitchen counter. The closer you got, you observed that it had two tan pills with arrows pointing towards it. “Take these when you get up. It will make you have less of a headache tomorrow.- Jin.”

Upon further inspection before he had written the dash, you could make out a loopy “L” written in Jin’s cursive.

It was normal to have your stomach doing flips.

This is what you told yourself.

But the more you tried to fight the thought off, the more it came crashing in like a dam that had broken. Jin was the one you went to when you needed comfort, a laugh, or just someone to be with.

He was your best friend. And you loved him. Or rather you were IN love with him. Both really.

So that was it then.

As your feet padded against the hallways towards the elevator, you were making your mind up. You rarely treated yourself and this was one thing that your mind wasn’t going to let go.

When the door opened to the lobby, you could see him sitting at the front desk. He was hunched over, engrossed in some book, so much so that he hasn’t popped his head up to meet yours.

“Hey.” You tossed your keys on his desk and his head shot up to the sound. You watched as his eyes warmed to the sight of you. Ugly pajamas and all. “(Y/n). Hey.” His tone was just a few steps above a whisper and that only made the gymnastics that your stomach was doing magnify.

“You forgot something upstairs.” You said matter of factly. Wrapping around the corner of his desk, you dove towards his body. Your hands found their way around his neck as you planted your lips right on your target. Much to your surprise, it didn’t take long for him to reciprocate. His hands shot up to grip your waist and pulled you to sit in his lap. You felt your back bump against his keyboard and tipped it off of his desk, but you both were too enraptured in each other.

He pulled you around the corner back towards where you came from. When the bell chimed for the elevator, you were too spellbound by his touch to question what he was doing. The whole ride back up to your place, his hands never left your body. Choosing not to dwell on one place for too long.

Then, so choreographically and perfect, you danced your way down the hall to your place. Tongues peeking. Teeth bumping. Years of underlying want finally bubbling to the surface. While Jin had a gentle demeanor, he was a man that knows what he wants. And in this moment, he is unashamedly relishing in the fact that he has you in his hands.

Many nights were spent wondering what you would look like as he peeled off those damn pajamas. So now, as he’s tracing the waistband of your underwear with his middle finger, he can’t help but stop to take a mental picture. You are rested back with your hair splayed out around your head like a halo. Fitting, he thought, an angel on Earth.

Your hands travelled up to lock around his neck once more, pulling his face closer to yours, not wanting another minute to pass by without your lips on his. He dipped his hands lower past your waistband and ran his index finger past your heat. He looked up to gauge your reaction and rather than speaking, you lifted your hips up to meet his palm, and rocked against it. This drew a sigh of pleasure from you that only drove Jin’s desire for you into greater heights.

It didn’t feel as unknown as you thought it would. As he guided one finger inside of you, your hands instinctively reached up to grip his shoulders. He stopped, fearful that he was hurting you, but it was quite the opposite. “Sorry, it just- it feels so good. I haven’t been touched in a while.” Embarrassment washed over you for a moment until Jin leaned into the crook of your neck, peppering kisses along your jaw. “You’re all mine now.”

He drew his face closer to meet his hand. Peeking his tongue out to run across your most sensitive area. “Jin.” You cooed, coming undone beneath him. Your fingers knotted into his hair as he brought you closer to your high, but not before you tugged his face up to look at yours. “Jin, I need you. I need you to be inside of me.” He snapped back and that was all it took for you to say. He fumbled with his belt and tried not to look like he was going to combust. The fact that you were laying here, asking for him to be in you. He just might burst here and now.

He spread you legs and positioned himself in-between your thighs. Slipping his head back and forth against you, spreading your arousal that was all for him. He liked rubbing against you and ever other stroke you would lift your hips up to meet his hands and he would slightly thrust in with each swipe.

The last time you lifted up, Jin grabbed your hips and thrusted down harshly, making both of her abdomens meet. You laid back against the bed and let him choose the pace as you were just happy that Jin, your Jin, was fucking you.

“You feel so fucking good. Fuck. This is better than I even imagined it would be. So much fucking better.” He panted in-between his words and you were too choked up from his thrusts to reply.

“Fuck. Keep. Fuck… Jin I’m close.” He reached down and rubbed against you with two fingers as both of you came to your highs.

He fell back against your bed and you both sat staring at the ceiling. Trying to catch your breath.

“That was.”

“Yeah.”

Jin turned and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you so that you were nestled against his arm. “I hope that you won’t think I’m an asshole, but I really should get back to the front desk.” You giggled and shoved him away, looking for his pants that he had thrown somewhere on the bed.

“No, it was my fault anyways. I came down there and pulled you away.” You held his belt up to him as he buttoned his shirt.

“Please be ready at 10, that’s when I get off and we are going to have a breakfast date in bed.” He stopped short next to the bed. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

You grinned up at him and tugged him towards the bed. “I’ll be anxiously awaiting.” He captured your lips and you felt his hand run through your hair and tug on it lightly.

You watched his back as he left and you couldn’t help but feel calm in this moment. Thanking the universe for tea. And for Jin.

[ohemgeeitscoley]

The one I have been waiting for (Part Two of Two)

Ben Solo is the recently assigned editor for Rey Johnson’s book about star-crossed lovers in space when the world is turned upside down and stay home orders are issued. Ben and Rey begin working together over Zoom and their relationship grows.

Or, an and they were zoomates fic.

Based on this Tumblr post.

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Rey/Ben Solo (Reylo)

Chapter One

Note: And here’s the rest! I hope you guys enjoy this. I had a ton of fun writing it and playing with these characters and this situation.

@andyouweremine​ is 100% to blame for the last Zoom scene, which was not a part of the plan and she talked me into it after I told her the story was done. You know. Like the best kind of friend.

Read below or on AO3.

Rey Johnson: Hi Ben, I was wondering if you are busy?

Rey Johnson: This has nothing to do with the book or my writing. I've actually written a ton. Talking to you really helped yesterday.

Rey Johnson: I was going to try to come up with some excuse to start talking to you. But honestly I'm just lonely. All of my friends have someone else that they are quarantined with so I feel like I might be bothering them at this point. And I really hate to be that person, but I just was hoping we could talk about something?

Rey Johnson: oh god okay you haven't said anything and I'm really sorry if this was inappropriate please let's pretend this conversation never happened.

Ben: I'd love to just talk.

Ben: You waited less than a minute before trying to revoke that offer, by the way.

Ben: I think it takes my brain longer than that to even think of a response let alone type one.

Rey Johnson: You seem to be doing just fine now 😜

Rey Johnson: And thank you. I didn't realize how much I needed human contact before all of this.

Ben: I understand. 

Rey Johnson: So, I'm ordering groceries to be delivered and they have a limit on cup of noodles now? And does it make me a bad person if I order the maximum quantity at different stores?

Rey Johnson: That sounds bad. I'm not a bad person I swear. I just, I really never learned to cook growing up and it hasn't been a priority in my adult life.

Rey Johnson: Don't hate me. I swear I'm not the kind of person who would buy more than I need in a pandemic.

Ben: I don't think that makes you a bad person. I am, however, very concerned that ramen is the primary component to your daily nutrition. 

Rey Johnson: I'm not a total animal. I mix in veggies and occasionally I'll even add in real meat. 

Ben: I could send you recipes? Easy ones. My mom is demanding my family attend these weekly virtual dinner parties. 

Ben: And one of her requirements is that we all make the same meal. So, she's been bombarding my uncles and me with easy recipes. 

Ben: Plus this way if you need help, I can help you. 

Rey Johnson: I would love that. Send them over. 

Rey Johnson: Thanks Ben. 

----

Ben hadn’t expected Rey’s accent. If he was being entirely honest with himself, Ben hadn’t expected Rey to be anything like she was.

Her laugh was light and had to be earned, which he appreciated. Her hazel eyes seemed to brighten when she was arguing with him about Kira and Kylo’s connection and, especially, when she bit down on her lip to stop herself from interrupting him. He wondered how much of her personality was lost to a screen and what it would be like to see her in person.

She was beautiful.

Not that he should necessarily be having these kinds of thoughts about her.  He had read through the entire HR policy handbook the night after their first video call and it wasn’t explicitly forbidden for writers and editors to see each other. The policy just required full disclosure at the start of a relationship.

He also recognized that two video calls and a few messages was hardly enough to warrant such research. There was a more than very real chance that Rey would want absolutely nothing to do with him socially. She wouldn’t be the first.

He glanced down at his phone, and the messages from Rey, and smiled. 

But he hoped that maybe she would.

Ben went to his computer, pulling up his work email and searching for the messages between Leia, Luke and Chewie. He was only able to find the first thread, which only had one recipe that was decidedly not an easy one to follow. What had followed Leia’s first message was around thirty replies between the three of them about how Leia couldn’t expect either Luke or Chewie to know how to cook beef wellington on a few days’ notice.

To be fair, Ben was a fairly decent cook, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could pull off beef wellington.

He had been so sure though that his mom had said she was going to send other recipes for them to choose from. He can almost clearly see something about how she’d send over a recipe for mac and cheese if they’d just calm down about it.

But looking through his email now, he can’t actually find any of those recipes.

---

Ben: Hey mom. I was planning on making my grocery delivery order soon and I can’t find any of the recipes you sent over? 

Mom: Your uncles haven’t picked a final recipe yet. I believe they are currently still lobbying that we all just buy the same Hamburger Helper meal kit and call it a day. I have sent dozens of recipes to choose from and this is what they are stuck on.

Mom: I think even Luke can manage to make tacos.

Ben: What recipes? I can only find the beef wellington recipe.

Ben: Which, really?

Mom: What else are they doing while staying at home? They both have plenty of time to learn to cook one recipe.

Ben: Luke works from home outside of the stay home order. So, I would imagine he has just as much time as before.

Mom: Are you really defending your uncle to me right now Benjamin?

Ben: So, where are those other recipes? I can’t find them.

Mom: I removed you from the email chain. I know you get sick of hearing us all bicker. I figured I’d just send you the final recipe once we get a consensus. 

Ben: Oh. Could you send them to me anyways?

Mom: They are basic recipes Ben. For things like tacos and spaghetti. You could write better recipes than what I am sending out.

Ben: Still. I should have them.

Mom: Why?

Ben: Why can’t you just send them to me?

Mom: If you are looking for easy recipes Ben, you know how to perform an internet search. I’ve seen you do it.

Ben: You are being impossible.

Mom: I’ll send them. 

Ben: Thank you.

Mom: If you tell me why you want them.

Ben: This is ridiculous. I’ll just “perform an internet search.” Thanks Mom.

Mom: Oh come on Ben. Something is up. You wouldn’t be acting so weird if there wasn’t a reason you want these recipes.

Ben: Fine.

Ben: I’ve been talking to Rey Johnson.

Mom: Oh really? How is her book coming along?

Ben: Great. Really great actually.

Mom: Does she need recipe ideas for her book?

Ben: What? No. 

Ben: We’ve been talking about non work related things and she mentioned not knowing how to cook.

Ben: So, I figured I’d send over some of the easier recipes I assumed you’d been sending Luke and Chewie.

Mom: You’ve been talking about non work related things?

Ben: Yes. Is that okay?

Mom: That’s more than okay.

Mom:  I could just send the recipes directly to her if you’d like.

Ben: I can send them to her.

Mom: It’s just as easy for me to do it Ben.

Ben: Mom.

Mom: Should I reach out to Amilyn for HR purposes?

Ben: You are impossible.

----

Ben: Dad. Can you please have mom forward me the recipes she’s been sending to Luke and Chewie. 

Ben: Without asking any questions.

Ben: I really would appreciate it.

Dad: Sure thing, kid.

----

“Hey, what’s up?” Ben asked as he answered the incoming video call on his cell phone from Rey.

He took in his messy hair, and the plain black t-shirt he was wearing, and realized that maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to answer. 

She looked amazing.

Her hair was up in three separate buns. The tank top that she was wearing was thin and he could see the outline of her black bra underneath the thin fabric. 

The image on his phone quickly shifted as she changed the camera view so that he was staring at a box of groceries on her doorstep.

Oh. 

“Ben. What is all of this?” Rey asked and he isn’t sure if she is amused or annoyed and he really wished that he could see her. 

“The ingredients to the recipes I’m about to send you.” Ben responded with a small shrug. “I wasn’t able to get them to you before you placed your grocery order. And I really couldn’t stomach you only eating ramen for the next week.”

“Ben,” Rey sighed, and suddenly she was back on his screen shaking her head. “You could have just sent the recipes and I could have made another order.”

“Sure,” Ben grinned. “Or I could have done just what I did.”

“At least let me pay you back.”

“No need,” Ben waved his hand in front of the screen. “Honestly, Rey.”

“I don’t even know what to do with half of these,” Rey admitted, holding up a bell pepper. “Am I going to blind myself if I accidently rub my eyes while cutting one of these?”

Ben laughed, running his hand through his hair while he shook his head. “Maybe let’s just start by putting everything away and deciding what we are making tonight.”

“We?” Rey asked, a small smile spreading on her face.

“If you want?” Ben offered, tapping a finger against his counter. “I figured we could make dinner together. I’m pretty sure I can walk you through all of these recipes.”

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

----

Ben: Is it okay if I text you about book things? Or would you prefer an email or a scheduled video call?

Rey Johnson: A scheduled video call? Ben. We literally stopped talking an hour ago.

Ben: I just want to make sure you are okay with it.

Rey Johnson: It’s fine. 

Rey Johnson: What’s up?

Ben: I read through what you sent this morning. And I wanted to point out that I noticed.

Rey Johnson: Noticed what?

Ben: That you haven’t finished the scene about whether or not Kira takes Kylo’s hand and are writing ambiguous future scenes that could work either way.

Rey Johnson: No idea what you are talking about. 😇

Ben: Sure you don’t.

Rey Johnson: New number. Who is this?

----

Rey stretched her legs down toward the end of her bed, switching the arm that is holding her phone up so she can stretch her arm out as well. She rolled to her side, setting her phone down on her nightstand, leaned up against the lamp.

“We already watched three episodes of Witcher today Ben,” Rey pointed out, stifling a yawn. “It’s my turn for show choices.”

“You don’t look like you’re going to be up much longer,” Ben pointed out.

“I’m fine,” Rey mumbled, fighting against the heaviness of her eyes. “You’re just saying that so you can get out of watching the next episode of Legacies.”

It had been the same conversation between the two of them, more or less, for the last few weeks. Rey mostly wrote in the mornings and she and Ben had a few early afternoon meetings a week on what she was working on and the progress she had made.

They argue about whether or not Kira is going to take Kylo's hand.

Outside of those meetings though, most of their conversations never returned to work. Which was something since they spent most of their days talking to one another.

In the evenings they made dinner together and talked about what they were going to do once the world finally opened back up. Ben was keeping a list of their ideas. Rey liked imagining that they would go through the list together. 

Neither of them ever brought it up, but Rey hoped that Ben imagined it too.

Ben caved on the binge watching two weeks after the stay home order was in place. Initially Rey had joked that he should try Tiger King or Too Hot to Handle. They downloaded the programs to sync their computers and watched the first episode of Too Hot to Handle together. Watching Ben’s face through the first ten minutes was worth all of her own feelings of embarrassment.

Ben’s ears did turn pink when he blushed. Something that Rey really wanted to see in person.

She was thankful for Ben. Without him she knew that her quarantine quality of life would have been severely diminished, but she wanted to actually see him.

“Hey Ben,” Rey started, squirming around in her bed until she was under her blanket. “When the stay home order finally gets lifted, I would… I really want to see you.”

“Of course,” Ben answered, and Rey grinned at how quickly he responded. “We have a list of things we are going to do.”

“Together.” Rey confirmed, closing her eyes. “A list of things to go do together.”

Ben telling her good night is the last thing Rey hears before falling asleep.

----

Dad: Your mom wants you to invite Rey to virtual dinner on Saturday.

Dad: I get the idea that she isn’t going to take no as an answer. 

Ben: Can you distract her long enough for me to change my phone number?

Dad: Just invite her, Ben. 

Ben: Okay. Fine.

----

Mom: I’d love for you to invite Rey to dinner on Saturday. Your uncles would like to meet her. 

Ben: Why would they want to meet her Mom? I haven’t talked about her with them.

Mom: I’ve talked to them.

Ben: Mom.

Mom: Your uncles decided on lasagna. I’ll send you the recipe.

Ben: I’ll ask her, but I’m not sure that she’ll want to attend.

Mom: I’m sure you can convince her. 😉

Ben: I’m never talking to you again.

----

"You got big plans this weekend?" Rey asked, teasing him. "Should I be jealous you have other people to hang out with. I thought you loved watching Legacies with me."

"I love spending time with you," Ben corrected, a slight blush coating his cheeks. "I could give or take Legacies." 

Rey laughed, her face wrinkling and her mouth open wide.

Ben smiled in return without thought. It was strange to him, how easy it was to smile when he talked with her.

"Actually," Ben started, reaching a hand up to scratch at his neck. "My mom invited you to Saturday dinner."

"Oh," Rey said, looking away from the screen. "Really?"

"Yes," Ben confirmed. "I would say no pressure, but my mom doesn't really take no for an answer."

Rey gave him a small, tight smile. "I would be honored to attend."

Ben sighed in relief. "We are making lasagna. I'll send you the recipe."

"I can't wait," Rey said. "Hopefully I won't do anything to embarrass you."

"Nothing," Ben promised, "Nothing you could do would be embarrassing."

"My family," he continued, shaking his head. "I apologize now. I would understand if you never talked to me again."

"Never," Rey responded immediately. "You're the only thing keeping me sane."

“I feel the same way.”

“You do?" Rey asked, her eyes slightly widening. “Here I was thinking you are just being nice.”

“I’m not nice,” Ben offered, shrugging his shoulders. “You can ask just about anyone that knows me. It’s not what I am known for.”

“I find that hard to believe. You’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

Ben doesn’t know what to say in response, glancing away from his phone. “So I’ll call you at two on Saturday? The dinner starts at six.”

“It’s a date,” Rey blushed, but smiled at him. “I can’t wait.”

----

New Group Chat Created

Ben: I talked with Rey and she will be there this Saturday.

Ben: Please, please, please, do not do or say anything that would embarrass me.

Ben: This means no baby pictures, mom.

Chewie: I’m hurt that you would think so little of me.

Uncle Luke: Honestly Ben. How little do you think of us?

Ben: Do you really want me to answer that?

Dad: No. 

Mom: But Benjamin, you were such a cute baby with those ears and your hair. 

Ben: Mom.

Dad: Leia.

Dad: Let the kid be.

Uncle Luke: There is that cute picture of him naked and playing in the sprinkler that I always thought was going to be a future hit.

Ben: I’m univitating her.

----

Rey threw another shirt onto the growing pile on her bed. She huffed, closing her eyes as she tried to imagine the perfect outfit to wear when attending a video dinner with her crushes entire family.

Her crush.

God, she felt like she was fifteen. 

Crush wasn’t even the right word to describe what she felt toward Ben. She wasn’t sure what the right word would be. 

She wished she knew where they stood. Logically, she knew that it was a conversation that they should have, one that was needed at this point. But she didn’t want to ruin whatever they had by trying to figure out what was going on with them.

He was there for her. Every day. Without fail. He called her. He texted her. He sent her stupid quarantine memes and videos to make her laugh.

He kept a list of post quarantine activities for them.

She was almost positive that he was on the same page as her. That they were heading toward… something.

She hoped there were at least.

She pulled up Poe’s contact information, hitting the video call button.

“Hey Rey,” Poe responded, a bright grin on his face. “Also, wow, you are naked.”

“I’m not naked,” Rey rolled her eyes. “I’m in my bra.”

“Practically naked,” Poe amended. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t laugh,” Rey began, “But Ben? My editor? I’m going to be attending a… virtual dinner with his parents and uncles.”

“Ben, your editor?” Poe mocked, laughing. “Rey, you can just say your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You guys make dinner and are binge watching two different shows,” Poe pointed out. “You are in a relationship.”

“We aren’t… we haven’t, we haven’t talked about anything like that.”

“Okay,” Poe conceded, holding his hands up in mock defeat. “I’ll leave it for now. What’s the problem?”

“I have no idea what to wear,” Rey admitted, switching the camera mode to show him the pile of clothes tossed on her bed. 

“Oh, wow.” Poe shook his head. “Babe. You just need to stop overthinking this.”

“I just want to make a good impression.” Rey bit down on her bottom lip. “I want to look nice, but not too nice for a virtual dinner.”

“I truly think sweatpants and a t-shirt would be appropriate for a virtual dinner.”

“You once told me that sweatpants were the first sign of a girl giving in to being alone forever.”

“Yeah, well, that was before quarantine.”

“Poe,” Rey exaggerated his name, holding onto the vowels for seconds. “Please just help me.”

“Jeans. And what about that yellow top you wore last time you went out with me and Finn?”

Rey nodded, walking over to her closet to pull out the yellow, flowy tank top she wore that night. “This one?”

“That one,” Poe confirmed. “It’s perfect. I think it captures your personality.”

“That’s ridiculous, but okay. Thank you.”

“I expect to be your maid of honor in your future wedding for this.”

“Poe!” Rey shook her head in amusement. 

“Love you! Bye!”

----

“Hi,” Ben said. “You changed.”

“So did you,” Rey noted, nodding at the screen.

Ben looked down at the button down shirt he had changed into. “You look nice.”

Rey smiled shyly. “Thank you.”

“My family can be,” Ben paused, trying to think of the right words. “A bit much.”

“Ben,” Rey shook her head. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Just promise me if my mom actually starts trying to show you baby pictures of me that you’ll look away.”

“I can make no such promise,” Rey laughed. “I’m sure you were a cute baby though.”

“I really wasn’t,” Ben sighed. “I am still waiting to grow into my ears.”

“I like your ears.”

Ben glanced down, happy that his hair was currently covering his ears. “I was just thinking that if you wanted a code word, you know, to end the call, now is the time to come up with one.”

“Ben,” Rey laughed his name. “It’s going to be fine. I’m going to love everyone. I’m more worried that they are going to hate me.”

“That’s just… that’s not possible.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “I think you might be a little biased at this point.”

“Maybe,” Ben admitted. “But I also know my family. Trust me. It isn’t possible.”

-----

Ben watched as Rey started laughing again, her smile wide and open as she tilted her head back. He could hear Luke and Han chuckling in the background, but he had pinned Rey’s frame as soon as they had merged into the dinner video call.

He had been right, of course, his family loved Rey. It probably should scare Ben at how easily Rey fit in with them. Easily picking up on their different personalities and slightly shifting and overplaying aspects of her personality to win them over.

He wished that she believed that she didn't need to change anything for them to love her. But it made him happy watching her try so hard to impress them. A part of him was still in denial and was convinced that Rey was putting in that kind of effort for reasons that didn't involve him at all.

But a bigger part of him knew that Rey wanted to fit in with them because she wanted to be with him. They hadn't talked about it, but Ben hoped that she knew that he wanted to be with her. 

He needed the stay home order lifted so that he could take her to one of the many locations on their post-quarantine adventure list. Once he was allowed to leave his apartment for non-emergent reasons nothing was going to keep him away from her.

He had already found himself halfway out the door ready to go over to her apartment numerous times over the last few weeks. If the order wasn't lifted soon, he wasn't sure how much longer he could wait.

He wanted to actually hold her while they watched Legacies. He wanted to be able to reach out and take her hand and show her the correct way to cut bell peppers. 

He wanted to discover and know all of the little things that she did that were lost over a computer screen.

"Ben?" Leia asked, snapping her fingers in front of the screen. "Maybe you can stop thinking about Rey long enough to join the conversation again?"

"What?" Ben sputtered, hoping that his face wasn't as red as it felt. But judging from the way his mom was laughing and Chewie was grinning at him, he was positive that it was. "Did you say something? I had a… work email that distracted me."

“A work email?” Leia asked, fake innocence dripping from her voice, “Is it important? Should I hop on and read it as well?”

“I was just saying,” Han started, placing his hand on Leia’s shoulder. “That this has been nice and that we hope Rey can make it to one of our weekly dinners once we are allowed to meet in person again.”

“Maybe even two,” Chewie added.

“Or three,” Luke finished.

“The lasagna was great, Leia,” Rey said, pulling Ben’s attention back to the screen. “And honestly so easy to make. I think I could have pulled this one off without Ben’s help.”

“Oh really?” Ben asked, raising his eyebrows. “Those are brave words coming from the girl who once asked if she was going to go blind while cutting bell peppers.”

Rey stuck her tongue out at him. “That was weeks ago. How many meals have we made since then? I’m practically a chef at this point. Maybe I’ll quit writing and open up a restaurant once quarantine ends.”

Ben snorted. “Literally anything to avoid writing a certain scene.”

“That’s not--”

“How is the book coming?” Leia interrupted, an amused grin on her face.

Actually, Ben noted, every single one of his family members had an amused smile on their face.

“Really well,’ Rey responded. “Ben has been a great editor. Even if we disagree on a pivotal scene.”

“She just doesn’t like to admit that I am right.”

“I have no problem admitting that you are right, when you are actually right,” Rey teased, taking a sip from her wine glass. “You still haven’t convinced me.”

"Maybe we should go over the list of reasons that I've given you already again tonight," Ben suggested. "I know you had your heart set on finishing up Legacies tonight, but this might be more important."

"Nothing is more important than finishing Legacies," Rey argued. "Besides you promised we would finish Legacies since we finished Witcher first. You going back on your promises now Ben?"

"Oh, Ben never breaks his promises," Leia said, and Ben glanced down at the bottom of his screen. He had forgotten for a minute that he was blatantly flirting with Rey in front of his parents and uncles. The knowing look on Leia and Han's face was insufferable, and somehow worse than the amused expressions on Luke and Chewie's face.

Ben really wasn't looking forward to reading whatever messages were waiting for him in the group chat he created between all of them. He had pushed his phone as far away from him as possible when Luke and Chewie wouldn't stop going on about how nice it was to finally meet Ben's girlfriend and how pretty she really was. 

At this point, Ben might only ever willingly talk to his dad ever again. He at least tried to get everyone to leave him alone.

He had never regretted creating a group more. 

"Where are you at in Legacies?" Luke asked. "I haven't started it yet, but if I have to stay home much longer, I might start. A lot of my students have been talking about it."

Ben smiled as he watched the animated way Rey responded to his uncle while they discussed the show. 

He wanted to see her. Stay home order be damned, he was going to see her.

----

Chewie: Rey is absolutely wonderful Ben. 

Uncle Luke: You should ask her out soon, a girl like that won't be single for long.

Dad: Luke.

Uncle Luke: What? 🤷🏼‍♂️ Someone needs to be honest with him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ben look that awestruck at a person before.

Dad: Did Leia ask you to take over harping at him so Ben would stop ignoring her calls?

Uncle Luke: I’m certain I have no idea what you are talking about.

Mom: I would never do anything like that. 

Dad: Leia.

Mom: But I would appreciate it if my son would pick up the phone every now and then. 

Ben: I’m blocking everyone but Dad.

---

Ben: I have a crazy idea. And you can absolutely, definitely say no if it makes you uncomfortable in any way.

Ben: Also, I am now realizing how sexual that sounded and I am regretting this already.

Ben: I should have thought my words through more there.

Ben: We can just ignore this entirely.

Rey Johnson: Ben. Stop.

Rey Johnson: Maybe I wouldn’t turn down a crazy sexual idea.

Rey Johnson: You’ll have no idea if you keep shooting yourself down before I can even respond.

Ben: Okay.

Rey Johnson: So, what’s this crazy idea? And just how sexual is it?

Ben: It’s not.

Ben: Sexual.

Ben: It might be crazy.

Ben: I really wish I could take back this conversation.

Rey Johnson: I really wish we could be having this conversation face to face.

Ben: … that’s my idea.

Ben: I haven’t left my house in well over fourteen days. I don’t think you have either? 

Ben: And I have a car. So if I wear a mask, and go straight to my car, and straight to your apartment. I mean. The risk is low, right?

Ben: I could also bring clothes, and I could just take a shower when I get there, to lower the risk even more?

Rey Johnson: I thought you said this wasn’t sexual?

Ben: I didn’t mean it like that. 

Ben: I meant a very perfunctory decontamination shower.

Rey Johnson: I’m teasing you Ben. 

Rey Johnson: Come over. 

Rey Johnson: We’ll talk about the perfunctoriness of your future shower in person.

Rey Johnson: [address sent]

---

Kneeling down on the floor, Rey placed another book on her bookshelf, adjusting the snow globe on the edge of the shelf again. She had been keeping herself busy with cleaning since she had sent Ben her address, just waiting for him to arrive. The fact that Ben had proposed it as an idea made her heart swell. She had almost asked him a dozen times over the last few weeks, but each time she managed to talk herself out of it at the last minute.

She was nervous. Rey blamed the wine for how bold she had been in the messages she had sent to him. Now that she was waiting though, with nothing but her own thoughts, Rey was worried that it was too much, too soon. While Rey was fairly confident that Ben asking to come over was a good sign, a sign that she wasn't alone in her attraction, it was hard for her to focus on that and not on the constant intruding thoughts that she was going to be left alone again. 

Ben had been the best part of her days and nights for weeks, and she was scared that he might be disappointed when he saw her. Or that he might decide that her appeal wasn't the same in person. Rey didn't want to lose him.

Not for the first time since the stay home order had been in place, Rey wished she could schedule a therapy appointment with her counselor. A childhood of being left behind and unwanted had left many scars and shadows in her brain. 

Ben had been nothing but kind to her. He flirted with her, he laughed with her, he spent hours on video calls with her walking her through how to make meals that Rey was pretty convinced idiots could handle making without any help. He was patient and good. 

A part of her knew that meeting him in person wasn't going to change anything for the worse, she just needed to remind herself that she deserved good things and good people.

And Ben Solo was a good person. Even if he argued with her over that fact with stories and worries about who he was at his last job, some awful publishing company that took advantage of writers with shady contracts.  

Mistakes didn't define a person's entire character though. And Rey knew all the work he had done to try to make the situation right. He was the reason for the multimillion dollar lawsuit against the company and he was still meeting with lawyers remotely to help bolster the plaintiffs' cases.

A knock on the door pulled her attention from her thoughts. Standing up, Rey brushed her hands down the colorful leggings and pulled down on the large, baggy black tank top she had changed into after dinner. Briefly, Rey considered running back into her bedroom and finding something more appealing to throw on, but then Ben knocked on the door again and Rey remembered that this is the same guy who told her she looked beautiful after she fell asleep during a call and woke up with drool dried to the side of her mouth.

"Hi," Rey greeted him, as she pulled open her front door. 

He was tall and broad, which Rey already knew, but seeing him in person put it in a different perspective. Rey fought against her first instinct to step into the hallway to hug him, her fingers tightening on the door knob still in her hand. 

"Hi," Ben responded and his voice was so much deeper in person. Rey couldn't see his smile because of the black mask that covered half of his face, but she knew that he was smiling with the way his eyes crinkled in the corners. "Can I come in?"

Without a word Rey stepped back to let him in. "You're really here," she said after Ben shut the door. She couldn't stop smiling at him. He held up the duffel bag in his hand as a question.  

Rey laughed, taking the bag from him and setting it down behind the couch. "I thought you were kidding about the decontamination shower."

"The perfunctory decontamination shower," Ben corrected, reaching up to take off his mask. He was smiling as he sat the mask down on the table.  

And oh, Rey had thought he was gorgeous on her computer screen, but seeing him smile in person, nothing was going to beat that. Her computer screen would never be enough again.

"I figured I'd bring clothes just in case," Ben continued, removing his leather gloves. "Whatever it takes for you to be comfortable with me being here. If you want to me to shower, I can do that. Change my clothes? I can definitely do that. If you've got a bottle of Lysol and you'd like to spray me--"

"Ben," Rey interrupted, taking a step closer to him.  "I think I'd really like it if you'd just kiss me already."

Ben stopped talking and looked at her. Rey shifted her weight under his stare, waiting for him to say or do anything. The longer he was silent the more embarrassed she grew. 

She was about to apologize when Ben finally moved toward her and kissed her. The kiss was chaste and slow at first, Ben still closing the distance between their bodies. He placed his hands on her waist, which were warm and large as they slid down her sides.

Rey opened her mouth, deepening the kiss as she pressed herself up to wrap her arms around his neck. She ran her hands through his dark, wavy hair, enjoying the softness of the strands as they fell through her fingers. Ben hummed his appreciation against her lips.

Ben pulled away first, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against hers. "Hi," he breathed, a wide smile on his face.

"Hi," Rey grinned back at him. "I'm really glad you came."

"Me too," Ben agreed, placing a kiss on her nose and then her forehead before he stood up straight and pulled her into his chest. "I can't believe you're really here."

"Me either," Rey said, taking a deep breath in an attempt to commit the smell of Ben to her memory. Placing a kiss against his chest, Rey lowered her arms from Ben's neck and wrapped them around his waist. "You smell nice. No shower needed."

"I'm glad," Ben laughed, his chest rumbling under her ear. Rey loved the way it sounded. "I guess I didn't need the extra set of clothes."

Ben moved his hands off of Rey to pull off his glove. He tossed it on to the table, before running his hands down her back.

"I suppose that depends on what the plan is." Rey said, her voice light and airy. "I could think of a few options where having extra clothes might be beneficial."

"Oh?" Ben questioned. "Want to share these plans?"

"Well, obviously we have some episodes of Legacies to watch."

"Obviously," Ben snorted, shaking his head. "I do have this theory that I'll enjoy the show much more when I'm holding you and can pay more attention to you than the show."

Rey blushed. "Maybe if you paid more attention to the show instead of thinking up these theories you'd be enjoying it more."

"I don't know. I quite enjoy thinking up those theories," Ben pressed a kiss into her hair. "And after Legacies?"

"Dessert. Maybe a game."

"And then?"

"And then in the morning," Rey said, pulling back from Ben slightly until she could glance up at him, tapping her fingers against his spine to try to dispel some of the nerves building up in her stomach. "In the morning, I was thinking maybe you could teach me how to make waffles."

"Waffles? What about pancakes?" Ben teased, brushing a piece of hair behind Rey's ear.

"Sure," Rey shrugged. "Or pancakes. If you stay, I won't be picky. I just, I want you to stay."

"I'll stay."

-----

“Ben,” Rey giggled as Ben moved his lips down her neck. “Ben. It’s 6:00.”

“I know.”

“It’s time for dinner with your family.”

“I know,” Ben repeated, placing a kiss on her shoulder. 

“You are distracting me,” Rey complained. “Nothing is ready.”

“The food is ready,” Ben mummered, pointing at the enchiladas that were cooling on her counter. “I’m dressed. You’re dressed. What more needs to be done?”

Rey spun around, pressing her back against the counter. “Ben. It’s 6:00. And you’re still here.”

Ben’s eyes widened slightly as he realized the problem. “I have my laptop. We can just set me up in a different room.”

“You don’t think they are going to notice that the apartment you are in isn’t your apartment?”

Ben was silent, thinking through their problem. “I’ll use one of those zoom backgrounds.”

“You hate them.”

“Yes.” Ben nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“We can just tell them.”

“We could,” Ben conceded. “But then the entire dinner is going to be us listening to my family ask extremely embarrassing and personal questions and I just… I don’t--”

 Rey interrupted him with a kiss, smiling against his lips when she pulled away. 

“Go get set up in my room. I’ll bring the food in,” Rey walked over to the deep fryer, blowing on a still-too-hot tortilla chip before popping it in her mouth. 

Ben had insisted on making homemade tortilla chips. Which really didn’t surprise her.

“We could also skip dinner,” Ben offered, following behind her. He lowered his head down to place a kiss just below her ear, before whispering, “We could have sex instead.”

“Ben,” Rey whined, setting her hands on top of his. 

“Really, really good sex.”

“Go pick a background babe,” Rey said, shaking her head in amusement. She opened the cabinet above her, pulling down two plates. “We’re all ready.”

“Fine,” Ben grumbled. Rey turned her head to give him one last kiss before he walked away to her room.

Dinner was going fine. Better than fine really. Luke and Chewie had spent the first half an hour making fun of Ben’s background, an image of the city at night. Ben had taken the teasing with a smile, saying that he had wanted to try something new. 

The enchiladas were great and the tortilla chips Ben had made were amazing. The wine Ben had picked out for the dinner went well. Han and Rey were talking about cars and Rey was enjoying watching Ben pretend to be annoyed at the focus of the conversation being on Han’s other child. 

No one seemed to be aware that Rey and Ben were in the same apartment, and Rey felt a rush of satisfaction come over her for getting away with it.

Then Rey dropped her wine glass, spilling the liquid down the front of her shirt. The glass broke on the edge of the table and when Rey went to pick it up, she felt the burn of the cut along her thumb.

“Fuck,” Rey shouted, sticking her thumb in her mouth without thought. 

“Are you okay?” Leia asked, a look of concern on her face.

“I’m fine,” Rey responded, blushing. “I’m just a bit of a klutz.”

Rey didn’t even notice that Ben was no longer on her screen until he was in front of her, setting down the first aid kid from her bathroom on the table next to her computer.

“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling at her hand to look at the cut. He inspected the cut with precision that the small cut didn’t warrant. 

“Ben, I’m fine,” Rey lifted her non-injured hand up to cup his chin and force him to look at her. “It’s no worse than a papercut. It’s not even really bleeding.”

“Still,” Ben glanced over at the first aid kit, opening it up and pulling out the small bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “You’ll let me clean it. And put a band-aid on it.”

“Sure babe,” Rey laughed. “As long as you admit that you’re doing this for you, and not for me.”

Ben didn’t say anything, he poured a small amount of the hydrogen peroxide on her finger, blowing on it as the chemical bubbled slightly along the cut. 

“Um,” Luke’s voice pulled Rey’s attention back to her computer. Han, Leia, Luke and Chewie were all staring at her and Ben. Rey had never seen such a big smile as the one on Leia’s face. Han smirked, as if he had known the entire time. 

“Anything you two want to share with the class?” Luke asked. 

Ben didn’t look away from Rey’s finger as he carefully wrapped the band-aid around the cut. “I’m at Rey’s apartment. Obviously.”

“And that’s why you had that ridiculous background?” Leia asked. “You didn’t want to just tell us that you were at Rey’s?”

“I was hoping to avoid this entire conversation,” Ben admitted, lifting Rey’s finger up to inspect the bandage. He placed a gentle kiss over the band-aid before gently placing her hand back in her lap. 

“I didn’t think you were supposed to be going around to be other people’s houses during stay home orders,” Chewie teased. 

“Violating the Governor’s directives to get a girlfriend? I guess he is your son after all, Han,” Luke said with a laugh. 

Ben blushed and Rey leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “I need to go change my shirt,” Rey said, smiling at the camera. “I think I’ll need Ben’s help. You know, since I’m injured. So we’ll see you guys next week!”

“The ‘barely a papercut’ injury?” Leia teased.

"Better safe than sorry!” Rey exclaimed. She gave them all a tiny wave goodbye before exiting the meeting. 

The screen had barely closed out before Ben’s phone started lighting up with text messages.

“Maybe you should mute the group chat,” Rey said, laughing at some of the messages as the preview popped up on his screen.

“Probably a good idea.”

“Thanks for coming to my rescue,” Rey said, sliding her hands around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

“Always,” he whispered against her lips.

“Now, you were saying something earlier about really, really good sex?” 

-----

Rey grinned as Ben squeezed her hand, pulling her into the ice cream shop with them. The stay home order was finally lifted and restaurants were opening, and even if new, additional social distancing requirements came along, the ability to be standing in an actual ice cream shop with Ben was worth all of it.

Even if they had to make reservations to go get ice cream. It was a new normal, and one she was more than willing to make adjustments for. 

Ben’s smile was infectious as he looked down at the ice cream flavors in the bins at the back of the room.

“I think,” Ben said, glancing up to the man behind the counter, “I would love a waffle cone with strawberry ice cream.”

“How many scoops?”

“Three.”

Rey snorted, shaking her head. “Three? Ben, that’s more sugar than I’ve ever seen you eat combined. You’re going to go into a sugar coma.”

“I imagine you’re eating at least half of it.”

Rey bit down on her bottom lip, leaning up to kiss Ben’s cheek. “You think you know me?”

“I know that I know you.”

“Oh yeah?” Rey raised an eyebrow. “Order for me then. Since you know me so well.”

“She’ll take a waffle cone with three scoops of…” Ben paused, taking one more look at all of the flavors. “Candy lovers delight.”

Rey pouted. He would pick the one she had been ready to order. 

“That’s not fair,” Rey argued as Ben paid for the ice cream. “You weren’t supposed to guess right.”

“I didn’t guess,” Ben told her, pulling out a chair at one of the small circle tables for Rey. “I just know you.”

Rey sat down, reaching into her bag, while Ben sat down across from her. She ran a finger across the journal that she had shoved in just before leaving her apartment. She had been debating when would be the best time to give it to him. 

She pulled the journal out, sliding it across the table.

"What's that?" Ben asked, picking the journal up with his free hand.

Rey squeezed his other hand. "You'll see."

Ben opened the journal, quickly reading through the pages. He smiled at Rey when he sat the journal back down, his mouth open wide as he chuckled. 

She had finished the scene weeks ago, but had been keeping it to herself. Arguing with Ben over the scene had been the highlight of many of her days stuck in her apartment. She didn't want to admit to him that he had convinced her relatively early into their talks.

The scene where Kira finally took Kylo’s hand. 

"It's perfect," Ben said, leaning forward to kiss her. "Absolutely perfect." 

[merrysithmas]

some POPPER-centric hcs:

I.

Boris and Theo celebrating Popper's birthday together for two years, waking up at two in the afternoon, blinds drawn tight - but not tight enough to banish the bright gleam of treasure chest gold that flares through the slits between them, 777 Vegas coin yellow, graffitiing malleable stripes of desert sun across the walls and crumpled sheets. Theo peeking a tired eye over the coverlet from under Boris' arm, little Popper’s big cookie-round ink eyes already awake and staring at him, tail wagging bashfully against the sheets in the silence.

Boris, who was snoring just a moment ago, starts up, suddenly, electrified, hollering a gasping realization that sounds something like, “Moy malchik!” The sound pops a breaker in Theo’s brain, letting loose a migraine from last night's bender, which is evidenced by the toppled pill bottles (Xandra's), the semi-collapsed beer cans and the vague memory of Boris' stoned over-confidence ("Potter! Look - against my head - watch - I bet I can - like the movies!"), and the ultimately ignorable ache of his hamstrings.

At Boris' startling exclamation Popper lets loose an exuberant tirade of ungodly shrieking, like set off by the crack of a gun at race he was raring for, immediately licking Boris' morning-slick skin, teenaged greasy and gross, and Boris is laughing so loud that the walls almost shake, as they are so regularly starved and thin of joy. And Theo sits up, wincing (that phantom ache again, inadmissible memories) and leans on his elbow, reaching out to pat the wild little thing who quickly turns on him, "Ok - Happy birthday! Happy birthday!"

II.

Boris and Theo washing Popper in the sink - he reeks. Sickly sweet rotten fruit-smell compounded with the wet mildewy stench of old laundry, distinctly intermixed with the odor of shit. Popper’s yelping echoes through the kitchen like an antique car horn, petrified, claws rigid on the edge of the sink, braced for continued frantic attempts to flee his sudsy prison and energized with bouts of fervor not entirely unlike a demonic possession. The one overhead light fixed accusatorily above the kitchen sink makes the whole set up look like an interrogation room - worlds away from the girly relaxing grooming videos they found on Youtube.

“Potter! Not this way!" Boris screeches - voice cracking like it has been lately - exacerbated in its rawness by the cheap, caustic brand of cigarettes he smokes. Lately they’ve been meeting the parched maw of his chapped lips like a consecutive line of ants, one after the other, his fingernails yellowing. Popper shakes violently, way before Theo is ready and can throw the ratty towel across his drenched body, whirling like a windmill, fur centripetal and spiralling, soaking their filthy t-shirts flat onto their bony bruised limbs.

“Oh, Popper," Boris outright coos, followed by a placating barrage of what is unmistakably a grandmotherly coddle of (likely) Polish. "You look just like Potter!" he declares, finally discarding his ciagrette, which dims in the puddle on the counter as it sucks up water. Theo grabs it as it does, revives it, takes a long, charring drag of nicotine and tar. His eyes narrow behind his glasses, observing the drowned-rat Maltese, frigid and shaking to its bones, and completely hates how Popper's forlorn appearance quite accurately recalls his own reflecton, just in from the pool, hair flat to his head, eyes big and, somehow always, helpless.

III.

Boris and Theo say goodbye to Popper when he is fifteen. Congestive heart failure - a diagnosis so deleterious and uncomfortably human Theo finds it hard to believe when the middle-aged vet ("Dr Janet", purple earrings, thick rectangular glasses - incense burning, loose leaf tea drinking, National Park lover) breaks it to him. She seems to understand the frozen bones in his shoulders and his unexpected quietness better than he does, leaving the room before he notices she’s gone.

Even in the darkest edges of his flayed existentialisms Theo never found room for dogs. Dogs, he supposes for the first time, in an achingly unfair realization, with their bright renewable resource of happiness (which they often give freely even to the undesevering, or unknowning, or unappreciative) are immune to such nihilistic musings. Popper stares at him from the table, ragged and old, too heavy in the middle and too thin on the edges, breathing all wrong. How did - all that time pass?

Boris, on video-chat in Kyyiv, up to no nefarious deed (he insists) is the one, for once, startled by Theo’s harsh red eyes, like he's been doping too much again, but there’s no dope - just a clinical setting and a hard shuddering breathing, from somewhere offscreen, quiet like it’s coming from a baby in crib.

Boris, like a knitted sweater, so often and inevitably pulled in many different directions until he disappears, seems to swat away half a dozen Non-English speaking acquaintances before the line goes quiet on his end and Theo can actually explain what is going on. The way he touches the screen on the video chat with his fingertips when Theo presents it to Popper (“Let me see him please,” Boris had asked, with no hidden heartbreak) makes Theo’s chest crush inward like the emotional equivalent of the impact of a car accident.

Boris says no at first, when Theo makes the suggestion, no let him go when he's supposed to, not yet, then: let me see him first, and makes it all the way to JFK before his phone rings. He doesn't answer, won't, but when he walks in the jingling door from the merciless city rain, the black tails of his coat dragging water, all sharp angles and dark shadows, he already knows.

“He couldn’t wait anymore,” Theo says. And when he meets Theo’s cherry red eyes, Boris doesn’t yell, or get angry - he cries. Right there in the lobby - he cries. Hands shielding his eyes, like a boy cowering beneath the shade of an umbrella.

IV.

Later they bump coke in the bathroom of Gramercy Tavern, shitfaced at the table, “Remember when he ate Xandra’s G-string?” Theo says so loudly it rings across the room like a papal blessing.

“Aha! Yes! So sneaky. Little pervert! Gets that from you! And the time he shit in the grocery store? Aisle 12?”

The memories pour out: “His fucking pink collar with the bell on it.” “How he howl like - ooo ooo oooo! So annoying! Always in the morning! Yes, Popchyk! I’m coming!” “Oh when we caught him fucking The Playa’s chihuahua?” “да, I told him he could do better! He was nice boy she was not so nice. Still, he got more ass than either one of us,” Boris says fondly, proudly, and clinks his shotglass to Theo for what seems like the hundreth time.

“Something deeply not right about catching a Maltese in the throes of passion,” Theo says, blinking long-disturbed eyes behind the dewy lenses of his glasses. Boris seems to agree, with a noncomittal grunt, and puts a heavy, vice-like grip onto Theo’s shoulder, shaking him until he looks up.

“Like a teddy bear getting a blowjob,” he says, and Theo laughs a half-choked laugh. They’re both crying. They’re both fucking crying.

“To Popchyk née Popper, G-string sniffer, pillow hat, accomplished singer,” Theo sniffs, sitting up straightly from his messy, hunched position over the table, head back against the booth. Boris meets his eyes, they’re both such a fucking mess. “And friend.”

“Vichnaya pamyat,” Boris says formally, in response. Theo smashes his glass, agreeing.

“Eternal memory.”

V.

“Open any one! Any one you want!” Boris crows happily, the tip of his nose red like he’s been outside in the cold but he hasn’t, not for hours, and the sloshing bottle of Christmas cheer which is sitting (carelessly, without a coaster, Theo notices with disdain) on the mahogany side table is nearly empty at only half past noon. “Oh! My big mistake!” Boris makes a big show of putting his hand to his chest in guilt, elevating the bottle and placing it on top of a book instead. “блядь,” he scoffs.

“I know what ‘bitch’ in Russian is,” Theo answers, wrapped warmly in a woolen Burberry pullover, burgundy, with the festive forest green cuffs of his starched button up curling around the ends of his sleeves. Snow is falling outside like white wafting butterflies, the stone Antwerp architecture nestled under frost, Tchaikovsky on the speakers hooked up to Boris’ sentimental iPhone.

“I know!” Boris says cheerily, gesturing towards the presents beneath the tree with a sweeping, encouraging hand. “Any one!”

Theo rolls his eyes, but as they land on the smattering of gifts wrapped festively on the dark hardwood floor his mood lifts. Picking up a small one, dark matte navy blue with a silver ribbon Boris exclaims offendedly -

“No! Any one!” he repeats, taking the blue one out of Theo’s hands and replacing it with a rather less elegant medium-sized red box, bundled together with a haphazard green string. “This one!”

The oddly-weighted box quivers in his grip, a strange feeling which sends an unexpected thrill of fear through Theo, “What is this.”

“Open!” Boris goads. “Just look!” he seems pleased with himself, taking another long hit off the joint that is smoking in the ash tray and then rubbing his palms together and leaning forward over his knees, eagerly like a kid.

The box is easy to open, just a cover over a base, which Theo lifts to reveal the small fuzzy face of a tiny, tiny round dog, so extremely gay, circular in the face like a teddy bear, pawing at the side of the box.

“You like her?” Boris asks with the trepidation of new fallen snow, peering over Theo’s shoulder.

The puppy stares at him, unblinking and cherubic, and softly licks Theo’s nose. It happily lets out the shrillest bark from its tiny lungs, a sound so high-pitched it makes the bells on the tree tingle in the vaguest memory of tinnitus.

“Ah, бубенчик Popchykova!” Boris laughs.

Theo hoists the little thing up, blinking tree lights ensconsing the ball of its fuzz, an ornament-shape itself - the puppy wriggles disorganized limbs in midair, pawing innocently for warmth and closeness. Somehow smaller, more effeminate, and more annoying than his last dog. He loves her already. Round cookie-shaped eyes and a bark that splits his skull. And the name?

It fits.

[snarky-badger]

How about Eddie and venom with a expecting f/o? Thank you for your amazing writing it helps perk up my day! :)

Another Prompt that’s a little like this one: Can you do a prompt where the reader is pregnant with Eddie’s kid? Then after a lot of arguing their finally allowed to go shopping on their own. Only to get stuck in the elevator on the way home. So Eddie, and Venom have a panic attack trying to find them.     

Another two for one!

Two pink lines had changed your life.

At first, seven months ago, those two lines had terrified you. You hadn’t been ready to be a mother, and your boyfriend made things…. complicated. Sure, at first you’d been a little leery of dating Eddie when you’d learned he was bonded to an alien symbiote, but you’d adapted to that. But having a kid… wow. That was huge.

You’d initially been a wreck when you’d missed not one, but two periods. It was only when Venom had tattled on you and told Eddie that your scent had changed that you’d hesitantly admitted to Eddie what you’d been hiding from him.

The two of you had immediately gone out and bought half a dozen pregnancy tests. You’d read the instructions and followed them, and the next ten minutes, waiting for the results, had been intense. Eddie had been worried - you both knew that he wasn’t quite ‘human’ anymore, not with the symbiote intertwined in his very blood, his every cell.

But when those two pink lines had shown up, he’d given you the brightest smile you’d ever seen and picked you up to twirl you around. You’d laughed, relieved and excited by his enthusiasm, worry tempered by his firm promise that he’d be with you every step of the way.

The symbiote, of course, had instantly peppered the poor man with endless questions. Once it had understood what was going on, Venom had taken Eddie over, knelt in front of you and pressed his face to your then-flat stomach, sniffing and nuzzling, expressing that it had sensed something different in you, but that it hadn’t known what it was.

Well, then.

The next seven months had been a whirlwind. Eddie had insisted in getting the two - soon to be three (or was that four?) - of you into a bigger apartment. He’d switched jobs, choosing a more financially stable journalism job down at one of the largest newspapers in the City.

Despite his protests that he could provide for you and the baby on his own, you’d put your foot down and ignored his attempts to talk you into quitting your job down at a women’s clothing boutique downtown. Your boss, a lovely grandmotherly-like woman, had been overjoyed to learn that you were expecting, and had quickly offered you all the time off you needed for doctors appointments and whatnot.

Venom, meanwhile, had begun what he called ‘nesting’, the symbiote always insuring that you were well fed, comfortable and as safe and he and Eddie could manage. They were never more than a phone call away, and you knew that if trouble dared to come near you, it was Venom that would appear to literally stomp that trouble to death.

There had been a lot of steak purchased and ‘appropriated’ before Eddie told the symbiote that you needed fruits and vegetables more than meat. And when you’d started craving pineapples and onion soup, the alien had literally scratched his head before shrugging and going out to steal a crate of pineapples from the import docks. Eddie at least paid for the onion soup from the nearby restaurant which slightly offset your guilt for the pilfered fruits.

Venom had been endlessly entranced as your belly started to swell, had stared at the sonogram from the doctor for hours on end in shock and awe, talons tracing the picture of the small life growing within you. At night, when it was his turn to sleep with you, he’d keep a taloned hand cupped against your belly protectively. Often, even when it was Eddie sleeping next to you, you’d wake up to the symbiote covering your stomach like a black blanket, the alien constantly enamored by the baby’s heartbeat and movements.

Now, seven months along, you were appreciative of both of your boys’ help, but you were low-key ready to strangle them. Perhaps it was the hormones, but all of their constant pampering and over-protectiveness was getting to you.

Eddie had once again tried to talk you into, if not quitting, then at least taking time off work. Venom had offered to kill your boss, and then you’d gotten a headache from listening to Eddie and Venom bicker.

You’d stomped out of the apartment that morning without so much as a ‘goodbye’, slamming the door hard enough that the walls rattled a little. Had simmered down by the time you’d gotten to work, thankfully, and your boss had given you a knowing look.

“Man problems?”

“Can’t kill him, he’s my source of soup,” you muttered as you, somewhat roughly, hung some new dresses onto hangers.

Your boss laughed, eyes kind. “Oh, I know. My Martin was the same. Nothing turns men into complete worrywarts like a pregnant woman. I actually made out a plan to kill him with a roast and then cook it to eat the evidence.”

The mental image made you laugh. “Better yet, you could’ve fed the cops the evidence.”

She grinned. “Exactly! Here, come do my tired old eyes a favor and do your magic with the books. I can hang those up.”

It was a bad attempt to get you to sit down and take the weight off your aching back and ankles. But it wasn’t framed as an order or a whine, so you nodded and went to sit down behind the counter, opening Quickbooks on your boss’ laptop and letting yourself sink into some basic accounting.

The shop ended up being busy that day. Fifteen bra fittings needed, and thrice as many customers needing help picking out outfits. Half left messes and unfolded clothes behind, and you felt like you were picking up after toddlers as you refolded everything and sorted through the clothes that had been tried on and found unworthy.

You were exhausted by quitting time, your ankles swollen, back aching, and a headache pounding behind your temples. You were looking forward to heading home and putting your feet up.

A text from Eddie made you pause just as you were leaving the shop, a sigh leaving you when he said he’d be late and to take it easy and that he loved you.

Hormones. It had to be hormones, because you had to wipe at your eyes.

Huffing, you called him back. “I’m sorry for this morning,” you blurted when he answered.

“Babe, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to push, I know you like your job. I just worry. And, uh, he, is sorry too. Didn’t realize that you liked your boss that much.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked along the street, the smells of a nearby Thai restaurant making your stomach growl a little. “She’s a kind lady who keeps paying me on my days off despite it not being in my contract and who also buys me pineapples so I don’t have to deal with cravings at work. So yes, I’d like to keep her around.”

“Sorry, pretty.” Eddie cleared his throat as the symbiote relinquished control of his voice. “Anyway, we’ll be an hour or so late. Just head home, we’ll go pick up your soup once we’re free.”

“Don’t worry. I can grab it on my way home.”

“Babe–”

“Eddie, I am pregnant not an invalid. I’ll just pop in the restaurant, buy soup, and head straight home. Easy peasy.”

He sighed into the phone, and you narrowed your eyes, readying yourself for a fight. “Promise you’ll take it easy,” he said instead of protesting, like you knew he wanted to do. Like Venom was probably doing in his head.

“Promise. I’ll even buy some of that cake I know you and V like.”

“Triple chocolate?”

“Yup.”

“Well, how can we say ‘no’ to that?” His chuckle that echoed through the phone made you smile. “Love you.”

“Love you too. I’ll see you later.” You hung up feeling better, less homicidal and less likely to try to smother him in his sleep. Climbed onto the streetcar heading home and smiled at a teenager that offered you his spot on a bench.

Your mission to appropriate soup and cake was effortless, and you happily cradled the paper bag to your chest as you walked the last couple of blocks home. Achy and hungry, you stopped to gather up the mail in the apartment’s lobby before stepping into the elevator.

About halfway up, it started to groan, and you quirked an eyebrow at the light screeching sound it made before it rattled to a stop, the lights going out.

Shit.

You reached for the ‘help’ button, pressing it and the emergency button. The bell sounded, loud, echoing in the small elevator, but no one answered the help line’s phone. Nervous, you pulled out your smartphone, heart sinking when you saw that there was only one bar of service available. 

What the hell was the elevator made of that you couldn’t get proper phone reception?! Lead?!

Still, you tried dialing Eddie again, voice coming out shaky and nervous when you thought you heard the line pick up. “Eddie! Eddie, the elevator’s stuck, I need help! Can you hear me? Eddie?” You pulled the phone back to peer at the screen, sighing when you saw the words ‘no service’ flashing.

Trying to keep from freaking out, you pounded on the doors, kicking a few times as you bellowed. “HELLO!! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME!?! HELL-FUCKING-O?! PREGNANT WOMAN WHO NEEDS TO PEE TRAPPED IN THE ELEVATOR!!”

Panting, holding onto your calm by your proverbial nails, you slumped back against the wall, fighting the urge to sink to the floor - you’d never be able to get back up if you did. Spent a moment jabbing your thumb into the call button, listening to the elevator phone ringing endlessly over the blare of the emergency bell before, finally, someone picked up.

“What?”

“I’m stuck in the goddamn elevator, don’t you ‘what’ me! Can’t you hear the alarm?!”

“Oh.”

“OH?!”

“Just… Shit. I’m twenty minutes away at another building. Just chill. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“WhaaAAAAT?! But I’m pregnant!”

“You in labor?”

“You’d better fucking hope I’m not!”

“Then I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The resounding ‘click’ of the Superintendent hanging up on you felt like the final nail in your coffin.

Unbeknownst to you - this would be recounted to you by Eddie and Venom later that night - Eddie had gotten some of your call. It had been garbled. He’d made out the words ‘Eddie’ and ‘help’ amidst a lot of static and blaring alarm noises and panicked. He’d screamed ‘pregnant girlfriend in trouble!’ at his boss and bolted out of the office.

It was Venom that swung through the City, ignoring the screams from the people that spotted him out in the daylight. He’d burst into the restaurant that he knew you’d gone to, shattering the plate glass window in his entrance. Upon realizing that you weren’t there, he’d upended a table in frustration, scarfed down someone’s steak dinner and left by ripping the front door off it’s hinges.

Luckily, he’d spotted a car driving a little too fast, weaving through traffic, with an elevator repair service truck following at it’s bumper. He’d easily spotted it as both vehicles had screeched to a halt in front of the apartment building, a trio of men rushing inside.

Thankfully, Venom’s territorial nature insisted that he find out what the hell was going on in ‘his‘ building and he’d gone to investigate.

You meanwhile, had a migraine from the alarm, and were dealing with a little panic by beating on the elevator doors while screaming obscenities. Only when the blare of the alarm cut off did you stop, head tilted a little. “Hello?”

“Jesus, Lady, you got some lungs on you!” Drifted up and through the closed doors. “Listen, I got a repairman here, we’re trying to figure out what’s wrong, okay? Just sit tight!”

“I’ve been ‘sitting tight‘ for twenty minutes!”

“Well then you’re already a pro at it, aren’t you?”

You snarled, debated kicking the doors again, just out of spite, but your sore feet took precedence. Instead, you pushed the heels of your hands into your lower back, trying to ease the constant, slowly worsening, pain there.

Unable to do anything else, you paced your small enclosure, back and forth, being careful not to kick the now-cold soup and cake takeout you’d placed on the floor. Felt tiny kicks from your baby against your belly, and slid a hand to press against the tiny bumps, trying to even out your breathing. “S’okay, junior. Either this asshole will get us out of here or your Daddies will come home and kill him. It’ll work out you’ll se–”

You cut yourself off with a shriek when the whole elevator shook, wobbling hard enough to send you to your knees. Heard the cables holding you from plummeting groan in response, and felt your heartbeat kick up accordingly.

“Jesus, Lady! You drop that kid or something?!”

“You’re not fucking funny!” You screamed back at the Super, before covering your belly with your hands, feeling the elevator wobble again. “Please don’t let me die in an elevator,” you whispered to whatever Gods were listening. “Or at least, let the elevator take out the Super on the way down.”

“SORRY, PRETTY. DIDN’T MEAN TO SCARE YOU.”

You gasped and jerked your head up, staring at Venom as he peeled back a section of the elevator’s ceiling as if it was as flimsy as a can of sardines. The elevator shook again as he dropped through the hole he’d made, landing in a crouch in front of you.

He reached for you at the same time that you flung yourself into his arms, closing your eyes when he enveloped you in a hug. “SHH, LITTLE NIBBLE. WE’RE HERE NOW.” Venom nuzzled at you a little before scooping you into his arms, and you finally relaxed. Nothing short of a nuclear attack would convince Venom to leave your side now.

Odd how just ten hours ago you were ready to kill him for doing just that.

“HOLD TIGHT,” he rumbled, and you wrapped your arms around his neck accordingly, blinking when he extended a tendril to pick your purse and bagged food up off the floor before leaping straight up.

The two of you easily cleared the elevator and another twenty feet of elevator shaft before Venom shifted his grip on you, the arm that had been supporting your legs reaching out to grab onto the edge of a ladder. He hung there for a moment, before shoving off, bouncing off the opposite wall and sending the two of you sailing through the open elevator doors on the fifteenth floor.

He twisted and landed on his back, protecting you and your swollen belly from the impact, and you lay there, eyes clenched shut, before the feeling of him licking at your cheek made you open them. “Are we alive?”

A deep, baritone, laugh left him. “OF COURSE,” he chuckled as he fluidly rose to his feet and carried you into your apartment, hissing a question when you wriggled out of his arms. 

“Bathroom,” you blurted as you ran for it. Managed to get there in time to avoid an accident, and you blushed when he chuckled at you through the door when you sighed in relief. “Oh, hush.”

Did your business, then washed your hands before rejoining him in the kitchen, where he was in the middle of devouring the piece of cake you’d bought for Eddie. “Eddie needs to get downstairs and explain to the Super that I’m out of the elevator. And maybe yell at him a bit.”

“WE COULD GO. DON’T LIKE HOW HE TALKED TO YOU.”

You decided not to mention how long you were stuck in the elevator, otherwise Venom might disembowel the man. “Yes, well, nothing to be done about that now. And, thank you, for coming to my rescue.”

A rumble very much like a purr left him as he moved over to you, one hand settling on the small of your back to pull you close while he leaned down to lick at your cheek. “YOU SOUNDED SCARED ON THE PHONE. YOU KNOW WE’LL ALWAYS COME TO YOU WHEN YOU NEED US.”

“I know. Still, thank you.”

“WE ACCEPT KISSES AND CHOCOLATE. AND WE ALREADY HAD CHOCOLATE,” he smirked, and you rolled your eyes before tilting your head up, sighing as he claimed your lips in a hungry, heated, kiss.

There was the sound of a startled cry from the open apartment door, and the still open elevator doors. Something that sounded suspiciously like ‘what the fuck happened to the elevator?!’ drifted to your ears, and you sighed as you reluctantly pulled away. Venom grumbled a little, nuzzling at your neck, and you heard him drink in a lungful of your scent, his free hand dropping to cup your swollen belly protectively, talons gentle against your skin.

He pulled back a moment later, pale eyes widening, when the baby kicked out, and you chuckled a little at the shocked expression on his face.

“Junior’s not a fan of elevators,” you said with a smile as Venom dropped into a crouch and framed your stomach in his hands. He tapped at a spot, grinning with a happy rumble when a tiny kick answered him.

The call of ‘Lady, where the fuck are you?!’ from the hallway made both of you grumble.

“I’m fine! Boyfriend saved me! He’ll be down there to talk to you in a minute!” you hollered back, gently sliding a hand across the nape of Venom’s neck when he growled something about hanging people from their entrails. “Eddie needs to make an appearance, hun.”

Venom hissed, then reluctantly pulled away. Rose to his feet and placed a kiss to your forehead before the symbiote pulled away from it’s human host, reintroducing Eddie to the world as it shifted around him to form jeans and a button down shirt.

The man blinked a few times to reorient himself, then smiled at you in relief and pulled you in for a brief hug. “Glad to see you’re alright, babe.”

You leaned into him a little, taking comfort in his embrace. He was warm and strong and safe, and you drank that in, along with his scent and the smell of his aftershave, before necessity made you pull away. “I hate elevators. Do me a favor and go yell at the Super for me.”

Eddie, being a journalist, eyed you. “Were you in there all this time?”

“Yeah. He was at another building. Took him almost half an hour to get here.”

His eyes darkened, like a storm rolling in. “Yeah, we’ll have words with him. Nuke your soup and go put your feet up, we’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Yup.” You rose up onto your aching tip toes to kiss him again. “No killing the help.”

A chuckle left him, laced with Venom’s own unearthly rumble. “We promise nothing.”

[creative-type]

Murder of Arthur Wright IX

First  Previous AO3

AN: Sorry again for the lack of updates. I kind of hate poetry and have no idea how some got into my story 

Also hawkshaw is Victorian slang for detective

Chapter Nine: Child of Sorrow

Margot reached the Red Griffin Inn as the bells struck noon. She scanned the streets for a familiar face, but Cain was nowhere to be seen. With a mild sigh of irritation she settled outside to wait. It was a cheerful and bright Sunday afternoon, and the traffic showed it. It was the sort of day to spend relaxing outside with loved ones, not investigating gristly murders.

Margot was especially dour after a poor night’s sleep, the new revelations of the Wright family churning in her mind. She was a mage, a woman of science and method, firm in both her opinions and convictions. She believed problems were best dealt with when they were small and manageable—whether that was in the workplace or at home.

The Wrights were messy. Even if Master Wright hadn’t been killed it was the sort of family drama that wouldn’t have been easily solved. In the past Margot had helped students deal with difficult situations at home, and knew on a more personal note that Lyra’s relationship with her mother was…complicated, to say the least. But this seemed different somehow, more tragic after two very preventable deaths.

She supposed part of her disappointment was with Master Wright himself. Their last interaction aside, she had always admired his work and was proud of the opportunity to play a small part in his research. A talent like his only cropped up once or twice in a generation, and with an elf’s longevity Master Wright could have contributed to his field for decades to come.

Margot was not so naïve to believe that being a good mage made one a good person, but it still shook her to have the pedestal of someone she respected—someone she had met and thought she knew, if only a little—crumble so spectacularly.

She was still mulling over her thoughts when Cain appeared ten minutes later lecturing a ratty-looking child in a newsboy cap.

“No scampering off till you make eyes with everyone in the building, then report back to me. Do you understand?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Unlike your beard, I ain’t stupid. But I’m telling ya, that’s Rockhead territory. Louis broke his arm tanglin’ with one of their gang.”

“You saying you can’t handle it?” Cain asked.

“I’m saying you ain’t paying me to scoop a building and keep clear of the Rockhead lads.”

Cain fished in his pants pocket and thrust a handful of coins at the boy. “That ought to cover your trouble.”

The boy snatched the money almost before Cain had his hand out of his pocket. “It otta. Pleasure doin’ business, Mr. Cain.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Tobe. Ever think of cutting an old man some slack?”

“Only when my purse is as fat as your head,” the boy said with a cheeky grin. He tipped his hat to Margot. “This hawkshaw fancies himself a gentleman, so don’t let ‘em work you without buyin’ lunch first.”

“Tobe!”

The boy melted back into the crowd before Cain could say anything more. He rubbed his eyes, exasperated. “I swear that boy will be the death of me.”

“Who is he?” Margot said, suppressing a smile.

“A common ragamuffin,” Cain said sourly. “A scoundrel of the highest order, pickpocket extraordinaire, and my best informant. I’m having him watch the playhouse where you first met Anansi on a hunch.”

“He’s a kid,” Margot said.

“He’s a runaway who had a very good reason not to want to go back home,” Cain said. “I make sure he’s got money to eat and a fire during the winter, and in exchange get another set of eyes and ears on the street. He’s got a knack for it, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Cain fished out a piece of jerky and sighed. “Do you have a half-penny I can bum? I just gave away all my spare change, and from what you said Anansi’s the type to stick to particulars.”

“You don’t have any in those magic pockets of yours?” Margot said.

“Pocket,” Cain corrected. “The rest are perfectly normal.”

“You never did say how it worked.”

There was a quiet snort, and Cain scratched the back of his head. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten about that. Shoulda known better. To make a long story short, it’s a vanishing pocket. Anything I put in there is technically in a state of existence and non-existence at the same time, which fools most spells protecting against theft—especially in old houses since the technique was only developed a couple of decades ago.”

“You’re lucky the Wright’s haven’t updated the defenses on their estate,” Margot said.

“They can’t, not without undoing a century of spellwork,” Cain said. “That house has had so many protection from fire spells on it you could douse the whole thing in kerosene and it still wouldn’t light. Would you risk taking that away on the off-chance an enterprising detective happens to have a workaround?”

“Tricky,” Margot said, impressed despite herself.

Cain tapped his forehead, grin spreading. “Mind like a steel trap.”

“And no change in your pockets, magic or otherwise.”

“Can’t deny it,” he chuckled.

“Anyway,” Margot said, “it’s probably best if I pay. Anansi very specifically said they would tell me a story.”

“That’s fair. Just remember, we’re trying to find out what Anansi knows about Desdemona.”

They walked inside together. The Red Griffin Inn was the type of place that, while not having the freshest paint or softest pillows, carried a certain amount of charm. It was only a few streets over from where Margot met Anansi for the first time, and catered to the same rough and tumble crowd. But the place was clean and sun streamed through open windows, carrying a fresh breeze along with the sunlight.

Margot’s attention was immediately drawn to a gaggle of children crowding the lobby. Some wore carefully mended clothing and went barefoot, while others were dressed in the crisp, clean linins of a merchant’s child. One girl, whose golden hair had been styled in the latest fashion, sat next to a boy so raggedy he made Tobe look like a prince in comparison. Every eye was glued to an orcish woman who sat at the center of them all.

She was dressed like a sailor and puffed contentedly on a long-stemmed pipe. Laugh lines framed deep-set brown eyes and a streak of white ran through a long braid. Even at a distance Margot could see the faint scars of a brawler across her knuckles.

The woman scanned the children while she smoked, a crooked smile spreading across her face as Margot and Cain settled in near the back. “Noon has come and gone. Who vould hear a story?”

As if by magic a coin appeared in each child’s hand. The woman handed around a battered cap, only pausing when she reached the ragged boy.

“For you, solnyshko, I vould speak a thousand stories,” she said, pressing the coin back in his hand along with a shiny red apple. Where she found one out of season would forever be a mystery, and the boy sat back with his eyes as wide as saucers, the fruit cradled protectively against his chest.

“Now yesterday I told the tale of the great Vizard Hym’s victory over the dread pirate Roberts. Should I continue his story, hmm? Or perhaps you vould like to hear the Dwarf King’s battle against the Lords of Night?”

The girl with the golden curls shot her hand into the air. “I want to hear about the Fairy Queen!”

“No, Khrone the Unkillable!” another shouted.

The woman listened to half a dozen suggestions and discarded them all before a young orcish girl at her feet said, “Can you please tell a story about the Wasted Lady?”

A hush fell over the children as the woman sat back in her chair and took another puff on her pipe. A glint entered her dark eyes, and she smiled. “You vould hear of the Lady? Very well, den. Our tale begins long ago, ven the stars vere still young in the sky…”

It was a story that Margot had heard a dozen times before, but the children were enraptured. Cain chuckled quietly under his breath and whispered to Margo, “When you said Anansi would tell any story in the world for a half-penny, I didn’t think it was literal.”

Margot craned her head at him. “That’s not Anansi.”

“What?”

Margot pointed behind the bar where a pimple-faced and beleaguered young woman was wiping down glasses. She was so unassuming Margot wouldn’t have noticed her, if not for the faint flicker of familiar magic that hid her true form.

“That’s Anansi.”

Cain did a double take. “You’re kidding.” Margot only shook her head, and he rubbed his chin in thought. “Right. Okay then. That’s not what I was expecting.”

“I get the feeling that’s how Anansi prefers it,” Margot said dryly.

Cain grunted in agreement. His eyes darting between where the orcish woman told her story and the false barmaid. Margot could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he processed this new information.

“Alright then,” he said so quietly Margot wondered if he was talking to her or himself. “Two can play that game.”

He strode over to the bar in a way that made his coat billow dramatically behind him. Margot followed in a less ridiculous manner and took the seat next to him. Cain had yet to remove his hat, and the shadows framed his face in a way that might have been intimidating if Margot didn’t already know him.

For a moment Margot felt uneasy. Trying to bully Anansi for information wasn’t going to work, but before she could say anything the not-a-barmaid was before them.

“What’ll it be?”

“It’s quite the crowd you’ve got here,” Cain said conversationally.

“If you don’t like the kids you can leave,” Anansi said. “Gudrid likes ‘em and she owns the place. Now what’ll it be?”

Cain nudged Margot softly in the arm, and she slid her half-penny across the bar. “I hear Gudrid isn’t the only one who knows her way around a story,” Margot said softly, voice laced with deceptive sweetness. “And I’m still looking for Desdemona Wright.”

Anansi blinked in surprise. It was the first time Margot had seen them break character, and her lips curled with the minor victory. The moment was gone almost as soon as it had come, and they regarded Margot carefully, dark eyes unfathomable.

“Still running errands for Felix then? I thought you were smarter than that, darling.”

“May I introduce my associate Mr. Dashiell Cain,” Margot said.

Anansi did the unthinkable and broke character a second time. They whipped their head toward Cain, sudden smile splitting their face. “Of course!” they exclaimed, drawing a look of ire from Gurdrid. Anansi offered a bashful apology before leaning across the bar table.

“You’re Conan’s little project?” they said in a stage whisper. “My goodness, you’ve grown.”

Cain frowned. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I know Conan Westmacott.” Anansi said. “Wonderful man. Spoke very highly of you, you know. I wept when I heard of his retirement. Wept. But it seems to be suiting him well, and he’s got you to follow in his footsteps. It all makes sense now.”

“Mr. Westmacott…talks about me?” Cain said, caught completely off-guard from this revelation.

“Of course, darling! You know, when I wrote that play of his he absolutely insisted on complete and total accuracy. No skimping on details, not even for the little half-orc who helped crack the case once and for all.” Anansi shook Cain’s hand enthusiastically. “Goodness, that’s been almost fifteen years now, hasn’t it? That play was my big break. I owe my career to Mr. Westmacott, and by extension you.”

“You wrote the play about the dwarven counterfeiting ring?” Cain asked.

“Wrote, produced, and acted,” Anansi said proudly. “My first one-man show. Conan thought the illusions were too gimmicky, but audiences loved it.”

“I didn’t know you helped Mr. Westmacott on the counterfeiting case,” Margot said, looking up at Cain.

“I…well, I didn’t. Not really,” he mumbled, his cheeks darkening with a blush. “It was a happy accident. I was just a kid who happened to be in the right place at the right time.” He coughed awkwardly.

“Anyway, that’s not why we’re here,” Cain said, trying to reassert himself. But it was as if the universe itself was trying to amplify his embarrassment. Any authority in his voice was drowned out as Gudrid finished her tale and released the small sea of children back to the streets.

Once they were gone Gudrid sauntered behind the bar and smacked Anansi on the back of the head. “I let you listen if qviet. Go make trouble someplace else.”

Anansi flashed her a charming smile that looked downright wrong on the face they were wearing. “You let me listen because I’m willing to work the bar for free—ow! That was uncalled for!”

Rubbing the back of their head, Anansi turned mulishly back to his audience of Margot and Cain. “See the abuse I put up with? I come trying to learn from the best storyweaver this side of the Tributine, offering free labor and asking nothing in return but to listen…”

Gudrid let out a low growl of warning, and Anansi raised their hands in a pacifying gesture. “I’m going, I’m going! Stars and stones, you’d think I drank all your beer and punched a hole in the wall.”

With nimble movements Anansi vaulted the bar before slinging an arm around both Cain and Margot’s shoulders. “Let’s go someplace more private, shall we? It seems I owe the professor a story of my own.”

Anansi led them to a private table and took the liberty of ordering them drinks. When Gudrid came around Margot took a polite sip and complimented the orc on her ale. The orcish woman softened a little at that, and Anansi was able to spout a cheeky retort without getting smacked.

The relationship between the two made Margot curious, but so curious enough to risk their chance at Desdemona by asking. Once they were are comfortably settled she caught Cain’s eye, and he gave a subtle nod.

“We would like to speak to Desdemona if it’s at all possible,” Margot said. “Do you know where she is?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you, darling,” Anansi said.

“Can’t or won’t?” Cain asked.

Anansi shrugged languidly. “As long as you work for Felix Wright, I fail to see the difference. I’m disappointed, Mr. Cain. Conan never would have taken a client of his sort.”

Cain’s features hardened, but he gave no other reaction. “What’s your beef with Wright junior?”

“He’s a pompous, self-inflated buffoon,” Anansi said. They leaned on their hand and looked at Cain with a dreamy expression. “I’ll admit I don’t know him, but what I saw at the mage’s conference was enough. The conference paid for rooms for all the speakers. I always enjoy speaking with the locals when I travel, and was having a lovely conversation the proprietor of the hotel after my show when young Mr. Wright came stumbling in, drunk and angry. It must have been near two in the morning, the day before his father’s great demonstration and he was near-shouting with the help for not having his rooms ready.”

Anansi went silent for a moment, frowning slightly at the memory. “I was aghast. Felix Wright portrays himself a gentleman, but what sort of gentleman needs his daddy to come down and get him to behave out in public, hmm? I’ve seen his type before, and I despise it. I’ll not lift a finger to aid whatever cause that overgrown child is championing.”

Cain and Margot shared a look. The story Anansi told was completely at odds with Felix’s tale of the night before the murder. But which one was telling the truth?

“What exactly did Master and Mr. Wright say to one another in the lobby?” Cain asked.

“Oh, Master Wright knew better than to cause a scene in public,” Anansi said. “But I would give one of my eyeteeth to have been a fly on the wall in their room.”

“What about the performance itself?” Margot asked. “I was told The Death of Desdemona was written anonymously.”

“You heard rightly,” Anansi said. “People often give me copies of their work. I honestly don’t recall where I picked it up. The play itself is nothing special, there was a line of verse that caught my attention. That’s the only portion I performed at the conference.”

Anansi cleared their voice, and their demeanor changed, the playful trickster replaced by the famed performer. And with the change came a new face. Gone was the comely human, and in its stead was an elven woman with long brown hair. Almond-shaped eyes were the color of emeralds, her skin a rich olive complexion.  

It was not the face of Desdemona Wright. The girl in Master Wright’s photograph had brown eyes, and even at the tender age of five it was obvious that the Wright twins took after their mother. The mask Anansi wore bore little resemblance to that of Adaline Wright, but at a distance, in a darkened performance hall…

Margot tried to think of it from Felix’s point of view. It had been a decade since he’d last seen Desdemona. Her name alone shook him, perhaps enough to subliminally suggest that the woman he saw on stage was in fact his sister.

Whether the guise fooled Master Wright was another matter entirely, but Margot could believe that the name, along with a face that bore a slight resemblance to his daughter, would be enough for him to storm back stage and demand answers.

All of this flashed though Margot’s mind in the time it took Anansi to finish their illusion. In the blink of an eye she wasn’t in the Red Griffin Inn, but the grand stage of Benson Hall where Anansi stood on stage. The auditorium was dim save for a spotlight where Anansi stood.

Margot gripped the arm rests of her seat. She knew it was only an illusion. She knew. But her senses disagreed with what her brain knew to be true. She could feel the uncomfortable wooden seat, taste the familiar buzz of two hundred mages sitting in the same space.

Anansi spoke, their voice clear and ringing throughout the auditorium.

“Child of sorrow, none do mourn Alas, tis fate, now bear their scorn Lord and Lady turn their face And abandon thee in thy disgrace

Child of sorrow, none do mourn From friend and kin cruelly torn Fortune’s favorite son turns his head And finds another in your stead

Child of sorrow, none do mourn Lost in mis’ry, wandering lorn Seeking, searching as silence swallows pity’s cry Your father’s daughter bids thee die

The sun soon rises on an empty grave Though once abandon’d, hope doth save Child of sorrow, none do mourn As fire consumest dross, thou hast been reborn”

Each word was dripped in honey and hit with the power of a berserking orc. When Anansi finished Margot’s heart ached and tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she didn’t know why. She was not sentimental enough to fall apart over a melodramatic poem, but with Anansi’s performance that didn't seem to matter.

Suddenly Margot was back at the inn. Anansi offered her a kerchief, an apologetic smile on their face.

“I’m sorry, darling. I forget sometimes the affect it can have the first time”

“Hells bells,” Cain breathed. “That was…wow.”

“It’s not a great work by any means,” Anansi said. “It doesn’t scan and there’s no meter to speak of, but sometimes even a poorly written piece can have meaning.”

“A really depressing meaning,” Cain said.

Anansi raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Cain, do you know what the name Desdemona means?”

“Not a clue.”

“Ill-starred,” Anansi said. “Unlucky, miserable, and—dare I say it—sorrow. The death of Desdemona is the death of misfortune.”

“Reborn through hope,” Margot said.

“Exactly!” Anansi said. “Whoever the author was, they weren’t writing a lament. They were writing a celebration.”

[mandimormon-blog]

5 To-Do Lists, You Can’t Live Without

Where have I been? Well, blogging world, I’ll tell you where I’ve been… not here.  Not here because a few shorts week ago, I acquired an adorable little notebook.  In my handy dandy notebook (yes, I’ve used this Blue’s Clues reference half a dozen times, *yawn*) I make to-do lists. Plural.  I’m absolutely obsessed with to-do lists.  I like the sense of accomplishment you get from placing a check-mark on the paper next to the job completed.  If I’m having a good day, I’ll even put a circle around that check-mark.  If my day isn’t as positive, I will scribble the words out on the line ferociously, while scrunching up my nose.

I had read once to avoid becoming overwhelmed or stressed, your to-do list should consist of three things. Then after accomplishing those three things, make a new list of just three things.  Homie don’t play that game.  Homie is an overachiever.  

At the beginning of the week, I had roughly 32 items on my “priority to-do list” and if you’re wondering why I’ve coined this a thing it’s because those items have to be done, there’s not waiting until the last minute, I need to rock them out.  Sometimes I’ll create an “Advanced Planning to-do List” and I’ll jump around and give myself a window of completion.  Procrastination eats me alive.  I’m not saying I never procrastinate, I do, A LOT.  I’m just saying it’s unnatural for me to procrastinate without having that feeling you get that’s kind of like impending doom.  

Oh, allow me to add, on my beautifully printed “priority to-do list” I added a small box in my right column and added the header, “ALLEN” to it.  That’s my husband’s name.  I created him a priority list, too, so he didn’t feel left out, of course.  I will blame it on the fact he told me he wouldn’t buy me a saw.  He doesn’t trust me with one.  But I always have this puffed up, I-can-take-on-the-world-feeling when I leave Hobby Lobby, so I requested one.  My request was denied.

Blogging has fallen off of my Sunday Priority List, even considering Sunday is my “day of rest” that I usually do a bare minimum if anything.  My computer has changed the method in which it uploads my camera roll, now, too.  So, the ease no longer exists.  Instead it throws all of my photos onto the date they were captured and since I can’t remember was happened 24 minutes ago, I’m not having much luck remembering what happened almost three weeks ago.

I do, however, have one little note in my iPhone.  It reads:

Before my oldest daughter, Reis, tells everyone (that would be her fifth grade class and “squad”…. A tennis instructor, piano teacher, grandmother, Sunday School Teacher, church friends, the mail lady, anyone who happens to be near her at the moment of remembrance)  about me. Yes, me.. her mother, the idiot. I thought I would beat her to the punch. (But I didn’t.)

I still have my prepositions memorized.  Yes, I can basically rap or auctioneer those darn words, at lightning speed.  Over the week of the 15th,  I had a great time helping my fifth grader out with memorizing those words, impressing myself mostly, due to my impeccable memorization skills.  

One evening, immediately after studying, just before saying our family prayer together, I was still jotting things down in my handy-dandy notebook, and as I was doing this I reiterated the fact I still had these words memorized from 7th Grade, Mrs. Smith’s class.  Then, I tried doing the math.

On the bottom of the page, I scribbled out to the side 2017 minus 1999 jotted my answer down and said to her, without the slightest hesitation, I blurted, “See!  28 years  ago.”  

Instantly, from across the hallway in my other daughter’s room I hear, “Wow.  You really can’t do Math.  Can you?”  (That was my husband, obviously eavesdropping on my conversation with my oldest daughter.)

Reis began laughing uncontrollably (seriously), “Yeah, Mom!  28 years ago you were two.  Did you memorize them then?”  The laughter continued.

I’m pretty sure I stared at her like that emoji with the line straight across, eyes open.  :- |

“I meant 18.” I said with a little bit of attitude because no one likes to be picked on.  Am I right?  Still, no one in my household cared and they cared even less that I still had in my memory bank from 18 years ago, every darn one of those prepositions. They only cared that I couldn’t subtract.  

After the laughter began to die down, Reis asked me to remove my paper from my notebook.  I ripped it out and handed it to her.  She carefully folded the paper in half and put it into her messenger bag.  “I’m taking this to school tomorrow to prove how horrible you are at Math.”

It may be 12:59 a.m. and I’m writing a blog in the first hour of Wednesday, but let’s face it, with my to-do lists, and our two-week Spring Break, I haven’t had a lot of extra free or me time.  I hear from a lot of strangers, “Two weeks for Spring Break?  Wow, that must be nice!”  

Ummm…..

I love my children, I love them to the moon and back.  I would do anything for my children.  I like to support them in all of their endeavors and be there for them as their cheerleader.  I love to have teaching moments with them and observe them.  Each of them are so different and unique but I love them all with my whole heart.  

However, a two-week Spring Break without any real travel plans and with Mother Nature’s temperament has been a challenge, to say the least.  Sure, if you’re sitting on a beach somewhere south of here where it’s 20 degrees + warmer with your children, I’m sure that sunshine is adding a sparkle to your day.  The sun did not even come out today, not once, and yesterday it came out for a millisecond.  

Our schedule is just off. It’s off because if we begin getting something together, (which believe it or not with only 5 days left of the 13 day break, we are… finally) it will be back to school, again.

The first day or two, our youngest two did about 16 laps in 3 minute around the couch and bar.  Did I mention Jude had his “ninja stick” in his hand? Yep.  I didn’t know who’s eye was gonna get it that day.  Remi?  Jude? Mine?  Who knew?  

Productivity was what was needed to keep our house in order.  I don’t mean watching six hours non-stop of Stampy Cat on YouTubeKids. If you have younger kids you may know exactly what I’m talking about.  The obnoxious laugh?  The Minecraft tutorial?  This wasn’t an option for me in my childhood.  The closest thing to that I had was when I was in upper elementary and it was called a Giga Pet I got from KB Toys, ironically on the Village Mall where the Humane Society sets up shop, now.  My Giga Pet died all of the time, if it lived longer than a day, it was a miracle from above.

This past weekend, we did a little inventory magic.  In Remi’s bedroom sits my 3 foot tall Barbie doll house from when I was younger. Inside of this house and a canvas hamper specifically for toys, were Barbies.  Lots and lots of Barbies.  I told both girls, they were to remove all of the dolls, and figure out which ones they didn’t play with or would like to donate.  Then they were to count the dolls, and select 20 of their favorites to keep out.  The rest would be stored inside a tote and they could change them out, during the year. Lo and beyond, the girls counted 62 Barbies (not even including the baby or Kelly-sized dolls).  62.  We aren’t excessive buyers.  You have to believe me when I tell you that.  

They’ve acquired several as gifts and even more from my mother.  She allowed the girls to take home dolls that were mine when I was a little girl.  I loved my dolls and played with them for hours and hours, probably because Stampy Cat wasn’t an option, like I said.  My sister and I each had our own doll house in our basement, and I remember plugging in my AM/FM Radio / Alarm / CD Player, and they would have dance competitions.  I usually would have them perform to “Movie Luv”.  I have a feeling anyone reading this will enjoy this playlist from Movie Luv:

1. (I've Had) The Time Of My Life (Dirty Dancing) - Bill Medley And Jennifer Warnes

 2. A Whole New World (Aladdin's Theme) (Aladdin) - Peabo Bryson And Regina Belle

 3. Take My Breath Away (Top Gun) - Berlin

 4. Colors Of The Wind (Pocahontas) - Vanessa Williams

 5. I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) {Benny And Joon} - The Proclaimers

 6. I'd Die Without You (Boomerang) - P.M. Dawn

 7. Gangsta's Paradise (Dangerous Minds) - Coolio

 8. Stay (I Missed You) (Reality Bites) - Lisa Loeb And Nine Stories

 9. Unchained Melody (Ghost) - The Righteous Brothers

 10. It Must Have Been Love (Pretty Woman) - Roxette

 11. I Don't Wanna Fight (What's Love Got To Do With..) - Tina Turner

 12. Can You Feel The Love Tonight (The Lion King) - Elton John

This was actually one of the first CD’s I ever owned.  I remember going to a slumber party and listening to LeeAnn Rimes “Blue” and Spice Girls “Wannabe” and I begged my parents for a CD player.  I needed this kind of music in my life.  I even remember staring at the square compact disc case wrapped in plastic, after shopping at Hills.  Life was grand.  I was probably close to Reis’s age, at that time.  The closest thing I had to an iPhone or iPod was Dream Phone, the board game, with the hot pink “Night at the Roxbury” style phone.

I will refrain from doing the math to tell you exactly how long ago that was.  But, in 2017, my daughters, Reis and Remi decided to each select 10 dolls to equal the 20 keepers.  They had no problems whatsoever with parting, temporarily with the other dolls. This made a world of difference in decluttering, too.  I highly recommend it, girlmoms.  Out of the organizational patterns in my brain, I kept receiving the same prompting over and over, again, to designate a specific number of hangers for their closets, too.  X # of hangers for pants, and X # of hangers for tops, so then it would force minimalism upon them.  But I decided, slowly… very slowly.  Plus, their closets don’t even look bad, at the moment.  I think it’s because they panicked when it was super warm once or twice in February and packed up their winter clothing and drug out all of their summer things.  Summer apparel has much less material than winter.  

Anyway, along with this purging/de-cluttering effort, I went to the local hardware store and grabbed every paint sample I could see with colors I was drawn to.  In that same afternoon, (this was the afternoon on their last day of school before Spring Break) I choose colors for my living room, dining room, bathroom, hall, and stairwell.  I also picked up some prepping items and paint supplies.

My husband is incredibly particular about prep work.  I am not. That may seem contradictory since I’m a list person, but wall painting is one thing I’ve never been a perfectionist about, at least until this day.  My sweet, incredibly particular about prep work husband had pulled his back out on Sunday, the day before this day.  Therefore, if I wanted the paint done in a lickity-split kind of way, I needed to help as much as I could.  Naturally, when he gets injured I will give him the commission to do something hard to challenge his skills.  That’s exactly how it went down.  He pulled his back out and I said it looks like a great time to paint the entire house. It’s honestly strategic, believe me.  He began to one-time (or spackle) the divots and holes in the drywall.   One word, “countless”.  Let’s see, we moved into this home in 2013, I believe.  You know the drill, you do the math.  In 2013 my children were even younger - sticks and stones and brooms and nails driven by mini-hammers, you name it, it’s been repelled or slammed against our drywall.  After my husband and I had finished spackling, our son, Jude, said, “It looks like the walls have polka dots or the pox.  Are we leaving them that way?”  

I picked up some cheap sandpaper at Dollar General, but didn’t really work on it much until the next day. But as I did the first two spots and they were ehhh.. so-so, with that sandpaper.  My husband came waltzing through the front door with a miracle. They call it, “a sander”.  Maybe to you it’s ridiculous I didn’t know what one was or had never thought about using one, but to me this was one of those “Aha!” moments.  My husband advised me to cease using the sandpaper sheets, and to use this tool. At first, I asked him if I could potentially chop my fingers off.  He assured me I couldn’t but to keep it flat.  He showed me and handed it over.  I fell in love.  He left, again, but when he returned, I showed him what a great job I did and even in the places we hadn’t spackled that felt mildly uneven or bumpy, I hit those, too.  This tool was the most amazing thing and my walls were almost new (without the new paint). I told him I was so good at it that he could hire me.  We’d be a local-brand of Fixer Upper.   I added that I could only use this tool though, because that’s where my talent lies, and I don’t really feel like I’d enjoy working a full eight-hour day, but if he needed the image, I was in and could probably put in a solid 1-3 hours, depending on whether or not it was running season.  

I did get a stellar half workout in with my roller.  I’m short-ish or average, I think, for a female.  Even with the extension on the roller, I had to calf raise to reach the top of the walls where it intersected with the line that my husband cut in along the ceiling.  Even though he cut that in and all I did was roll everything, I still managed to get paint on the ceiling in three places.  

While I painted and cleaned, I decided my oven needed dissected.  Thank you, Pinterest, you are the best ever!  I found a pin describing how to clean in between those glass panels – after taking the oven door apart (no joke) I was about to scrub that grease off, and my oven looks like new.  I also allowed a baking soda, salt, vinegar mix to coat the inside overnight and voila! It looks like new!

I also made an executive decision to repaint my dining room chairs… oh and reupholster them.  Owned it.  Seriously, what a different a little fabric makes.  

Anyway, the entire Operation Cottage Renovation was completed in just 2.5 short days.  Just in time, because on Monday, we held an Ice Cream Social + Family Night in our little cottage, and forty people showed up. That’s a lot to cram under one tiny roof, but it was so great!  

You know I love to plan parties.  That’s just one of my favorite things to do in life.  I’m serious.  Unfortunately, Covington isn’t exactly the target market for that kind of expertise, so I just plan a lot of parties for my family and my children.  

Pottery Barn Kids happens to have a free ice cream party printable set.  I recycled my turquoise blue strawberry baskets, found 4 sets of ice cream bowls for $.88/set, which is incredible and not to mention the frugality of reusing those suckers, over and over, again.  My husband and I went out on Saturday night, which wasn’t the norm and I’ll discuss why in like two seconds.   During our date, we ate (we always eat, food is life) and we got party supplies, those being toppings for ice cream sundaes.  Anything you could imagine, really, it was great.  We also snatched up supplies for our “Family Night” portion of the event.  Wooden sticks, rods, pipe cleaners, foam blocks, playdoh, duct tape, etc.  Right now you may be wondering what on earth we were doing with those materials and why, and I’ll tell you.

Like a broken record, on Monday nights it’s Family Home Evening.  Since many that aren’t of our faith don’t understand that terminology we called it, “Family Night”.  My husband explained to our large group, we do this as a family to build unity, every week. He also described our evening as being a “Family Home Evening… on steroids”.  

We left out the formality of it all and had our Elders (Young Boy Missionaries 19+) explain a little bit about the Book of Mormon.  Many people don’t understand it’s a history, like history of any textbook or journals, ancient writings, in this case – those of the people in the Americas.

We briefly read in the Book of Alma (which is from the Book of Mormon) about what Captain Moroni did to prepare his cities for hard times.  In this particular evening, we were focusing on one of the preparations which was “fortifying” or strengthening their cities.   This included building a large fortress with trenches and defense mechanisms for that time period, even though they were not currently under attack.  This prepared them for when they did fall under attack, the sight alone of these beefed up fortresses caused the enemy to retreat.  You may be thinking, nice story, get on with the point.

That point is how it’s important to reflect on what we can do to build ourselves up and strengthen ourselves while things are smooth sailing, to endure the harder times.  If we don’t prepare, we’ll fall apart.  

My commission to the children and families in my home that evening was to build their own fortress to defend themselves.  Object lessons are my favorite with small children.  Seriously, they’re fantastic.  

As soon as everything was cleaned up and the house resumed to normal, I began “listing” the next actions in my life.  One of those being creating a Ninjago Birthday Invitation and to evaluate my shopping list for this upcoming party – can I just say, It’s gonna be great?!  

Jude is highly involved in his party preparation.  An example of this would be evidenced by the fact that when I asked him what he wanted to have as a party theme, he quickly answered, “Ninjago” and didn’t back down. No biggie.  I honestly thought it would be Lego Batman since that’s been all of the hype this year, or even Minions or Minecraft, but nope.  Ninjago and after extensive Pinterest research, I’m ready to execute this plan.  

I showed him my board and ran ideas past him.  He then took my cell phone from me and began pinning what he liked to his board labeled, “Jude Party”.  I didn’t send his cake request to the cake decorator, it was a three dimensional gold Lego Ninjago Lloyd, but I did send another super cool one he liked that was still pretty extravagant.

I’ll be working on crafting my husband a kimono-type ensemble to he can be Sensai.  This age group I’m guessing will be slightly squirmy so we will plan game after game and backup games.  Jude has requested his buddies attend Ninja Training and unlock their potential to be Masters of Spinjitzu.  

This is great because there’s only like 300 pins about Ninja training games for parties.  I’m loving the “fire” jumping, hoop crossing, plank walking, brick wall breaking, shirikin tossing, balsa wood breaking obstacle course. Can you tell I’m stoked?  This only downside to all of this is planning it on a dime.  For real though, usually, I buy here and there and everywhere and then my husband will say, “Hey… you only have X more to spend.”  This time, from the get-go I’ve had a budget.  Budgeting is SO HARD for the compulsiveness inside of me.  

How have I been surviving this long Spring Break?  Can I just say it’s nothing like summer because in summer, we go to the pool, daily.  As far as we’ve gone is Conner Prairie and that finally happened yesterday (Tuesday).  Another Spring Break survival hacks for non-travelers would be seeing a movie, twice. I went to see Beauty and the Beast on Friday night with my mother and we met up with my sister.  It was a great time and I loved this movie!  It was my scout-out of the movie, of course, I had to make sure it was child appropriate (due to reviews I’d read which were completely off), and not scary.  So, while I watched it with my sister and mother, my children watched the animated version for the first time, ever.  I know… parenting fail.  I grew up in love with animated Disney movie classics and my kids have watched maybe ¼ of them.  We’re working on it, though.  

Over the weekend my oldest daughter and her bestie had convinced us in order to keep the house looking nice and neat, before our ice cream social, we should go to see Beauty and the Beast.  Actually, they brought this up in front of my mother and of course, grandma saves the day with the funds needed to attend this movie.  I ran and cleaned up and set up what I could that day, then the girls and I left for Champaign to see it.  The boys ran errands for us and did their own thing.  Jude didn’t even like the half of the animated version he watched so he wasn’t all about seeing it, again.  

We were so confused as to why the movie was so expensive, but realized when we arrived it was being it was being shown in the BIG D theater.  Of course, we climbed to the tippy top of this ginormous theater.  I honestly felt winded after coasting up the steps a couple of times.  I may run but my body denies inclines at all costs.   There were only about four other movie-goers in the theater with us, which was amazing, too.  My favorite kind of movie, restaurant, amusement park, grocery store, is one with only a handful of people in it with me.  

I mentioned Conner Prairie, oh yes.  Today, we traveled to Fishers for an interactive historical tour.  We learned about Indians, Pioneers, the Civil War, tested out the new Treehouse exhibit which is marvelous.  I asked my husband to observe the structure and examine it closely, because I feel the Covington City Park would benefit from a version of that. Maybe not four stories, but I do love the height.  It was the best part!   Of course, Jude would tell you the best part had to be the rifle range, where he learned how to handle his “bayonet”, march, and fight in a battle.  

All of the kids enjoyed that at least until we did the hot air balloon.  Yep, we did it.  We’ve seen it there time and time, again, but this time it was checked and circled off of the bucket list.  

It was a toss-up between whether my husband would go up or I would go up.  He voted me, and I voted him and somehow he convinced be that I should go, although two things were very big deal breakers for me.  Those were 1.) This was opening day of the outdoor experience, meaning our hot air balloon pilot was out of practice for months.  2.) It was windy.  I visualize that cord being severed and us flying away never to be seen or heard from again.  

However, all three of my children were game to go up and excited to the moon, so was I going to risk not flying to the moon with them?  Nope… I went.  I went and when the middle disappeared and we continued to ascend up to the 377 feet, taller than even the statue of liberty’s torch, I began to feel like I shouldn’t make any sudden moves.  Of course, my darling children had expressions of pure delight and excitement while I stood there reminding them every 4.5 seconds to hold on to the sides, while each of my feet held pressure against the walls to immobilize me, while I clinched my teeth down.  I did look around and take a few photos and a video, but I felt like we were going to blow over sideways, so really what was going through my brain was how I was going to instruct my three children.  Another family was up in the sky with us, and the pilot had told them to look around, we only would be at the maximum height for 3 minutes before descending.  They all seemed to gravitate toward us, making the balloon off balance, I bit down on my tongue to fight off the urge to scold them to get back to their own side and quit attempting to tip us out of the basket.  Finally, we were going back down but near the ground it was described to us that our balloon was doing a “pendulum” effect.  It began rocking and not landing steady and I prepared my mind for evacuation, but worst case scenarios considered, they weren’t needed. 

 Thankfully… we made it and I needed a timeout from that moment forward.  Actually, I really just needed some lunch.  Hypoglycemia gets the best of me, from time to time, creating short-temperedness and attitude.  Omission from any meal or delay isn’t good for any member of our party.  

I feel pretty satisfied after updating the blog and this wasn’t on a list, because the list it exists on is a mental or unwritten list.  Just like the Pineapple Upside down cake I made my husband, last night, wasn’t on the list.  So, I guess I don’t have to use a ‘list’ for everything as it had seemed.  #talented < I’m totally kidding.

I hope my readers enjoy the memes.  I stumbled across a fantastic application and I had to test them out in a very non-serious way.  

While my husband and I attended a Youth Temple Trip, the Saturday before embarking on additional busyness including my cousin’s bowling birthday party which was loads of fun for everyone, I received a couple of impressions.

I was flipping through Doctrine and Covenants and randomly reading a scripture verse or two, and I happened to stumble across this one:

Organize yourselves; prepare every needful thing, and establish a house, even a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of God; D&C 109:8

This is in my top five scripture verses.  It also commits me to making this list my new checklist.  Am I working on these things?  How is my evaluation of myself and my home?  New month, new goals.   

That’s what I love about life.  We are constantly reinventing ourselves.  A better version of who we are, continual growth, gaining wisdom from mistakes and failed experimentation.  Failure gives us exactly what we need to brush ourselves off, jump up, and move forward.

In fact, busyness is not what it’s all about.  I’ve asked my husband, on a few different occasions recently, how do I become less busy?  Less commitments?  Dropping tasks?  More efficient delegation?  Saying no?  Busyness doesn’t allow time for the Spirit to prompt you, for inspiration to come, to be present with family or children, I know for sure we weren’t designed to live life in the fast lane 95% of the time, as evidenced by those mini-panic attacks or rapid speech that accompany semi-meltdown moments.

So sure, I may have elaborated on five different lists (maybe even more, I lost count), but I’m really not wanting to achieve some sort of level of mastery for being busy.  Even looking at the word busy is annoying.  It looks like “bus” with a “y” it seems to have letters missing.  Probably because they were too busy, too. 

The list I’m keeping, going into the month of April, is that of D&C 109:8 - the goal I’m creating is Peace, Meditation, and Prayer.  How will I get out of the habit of being busy or having less commitments?  One at a time, I’ll finish what obligations I’ve begun, without taking on additional commitments (that are of a part-time or full-time nature or require multiple tasks per week).  I’ll make sure to evaluate my progress to see if it’s improving me, as an individual.  

I am going to make a commitment to going to bed early.  The past couple of days, I’ve had roughly 4 hours of sleep, per night.  When I opened this blog draft up, I mentioned to my best friend I didn’t even know what it says because I was so tired while writing it.  It may be like reading a foreign language. 

One last commitment -- this should honestly go without saying, seeing the good or positive in every situation and every person, I encounter.  I’m extremely grateful General Conference is this coming weekend so I can be inspired and my questions can be answered.  Now, I think I may go sit out in the beautiful sunshine.  Namaste!