#i need to inhale this mac and cheese and go grab a coffee

[iguessitsjustme]

Babe and Charlie raising a toddler: Pit Babe 2: The Terrible Twos

North/Sonic/Kim get together: Pit Babe 3: Finally Poly

A Vampire Shows Up: Pit Babe 4: Retcon Some Lore

[maxrev]

Intimacy Prompts: Falling asleep in their arms. For mshenko :D

Sooo, apparently I CAN write prompts. Just takes me a while lol. Knox seemed to like this one and I can honestly say, I was not expecting this...domestic fluff. Hope you like it! My renegade has a soft side. He knew? 

       ____________________________

Knox leaned his head against the seat in the skycar, exhausted from his physical therapy session. There were days he felt he was making more progress in going backwards than forwards; today had been one of those days. 

He fought against closing his eyes and sleeping on the way back to the condo, located in the newly built high rise over English Bay. Kaidan's family had one before but it had been destroyed during the Reaper invasion.

"I have to make a quick stop and pick up some things for dinner, go ahead and close your eyes if you need to."

Too tired to even lift his head, Knox rotated it left to study Kaidan navigating the streets of Vancouver with calm assurance. Maybe he should have let him drive the mako all those years ago. No. He’d enjoyed himself too much and the reactions of the crew. Especially the man sitting next to him. 

"I'm fine," he said, rotating his head back to the right and further, watching the world rush by in a blur. 

Silence greeted his words and swore he could hear a wealth of reproach within it. He was even too tired to care. 

"It's just you and me. You can relax your guard, Knox." Frustration laced the smoky voice.

Irritation crept into his, "I said, I'm fine."

God, he sounded like a belligerent child. Felt like one, too. Tired, cranky, and ready for a nap. "Your concern is noted but I'd rather wait until we get home." 

Warmth bloomed in his chest at the thought - home. He never thought he'd have one of his own, had never expected to die saving the galaxy. 

He still thought he sounded like a whiny child but exhaustion nipped at his heels like a recalcitrant pup and he was unable to keep it at bay. Kaidan pulled up to the store and Knox bit his lip against a groan as he pulled himself up by the armrest, ready to get out. 

"You don't have to come in. I just need a few things. Stay here and relax." 

"I told you, I'm--"

"Fine. Yeah...you have.” Now he could hear exasperation. “Look, I'm not trying to be pushy, just...take care of you." 

Knox followed him into the grocery store, feeling like hed kicked a puppy. He knew Kaidan cared, just had a problem accepting it. Even after all this time. Learning how to look after himself from the age of four, a lifetime of doing so couldn’t be  undone in a few years. For the moment, though, he had other things to worry about. It took every bit of concentration in his state of exhaustion not to stumble over his feet and get tangled up in the cane. God how he hated the thing. 

He shuffled behind Kaidan who walked slowly to accommodate him; another irritation. Stubborn and too proud to admit it, the thought crossed his mind he should have just stayed in the skycar, let Kaidan shop in peace. Like a kindergartener, he probably needed a nap or Rip Van Winkle for twenty years. OR maybe a Snickers. 

Lost in thought, he hadn’t paid much attention to what Kaidan put in the cart but as they checked out, he saw all of his favorites; the makings for homemade mac and cheese, steak, some kind of dessert. Knox’s heart soared at the same time he felt like a complete scrooge, biting the man's head off while he was doing everything to pamper him in spite of the rotten attitude. 

"Thank you," he said as they walked back to the skycar. He shivered inside his leather jacket; the temperature had dropped since they’d left physical therapy. 

"You're welcome, Knox. Always.” 

Back at the condo, Kaidan unloaded the groceries, ordering Knox to go relax by the electric fire with the ambience of genuine crackling flames. This time he listened, wanting nothing more than to rest his leg and hip, still protesting from the session earlier. He all but sagged down to the couch - carefully - propping his leg on the coffee table and reached for a book he'd been reading about the Andromeda galaxy. He may not be up in space anymore but he could still read about it and Andromeda interested him, thinking of the arcs which had headed there. He missed the stars, the only place he’d ever truly felt at home.  

Pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of Kaidan preparing a meal in the kitchen, for him, made Knox smile for the first time today. Okay, so the stars weren’t the only place he felt at home, not anymore. 

Kaidan appeared as if summoned by his thoughts, carrying a large mug of hot tea. "Cinnamon and apple with a bit of honey." 

Closing his eyes and inhaling the aroma, Knox took a sip, sputtering as the hot liquid burned his tongue. He nodded and responded with a coughed, "Perfect." 

Kaidan chuckled, "Did you think it wouldn’t be hot?"

Grumbling, he told him, "Go back to the kitchen," but there was no heat in his tone. 

"Yes, dear," the words were thrown over a shoulder with a laugh. 

 Knox sipped the tea carefully, enjoying the taste and the warmth spreading through him. Between the tea and the fire, he was beginning to feel drowsy. He hoped dinner wouldn’t take too long, he might fall asleep. His stomach growled loudly in disagreement. 

A short time later, Kaidan came back with two plates piled high with homemade mac and cheese, green beans and medium rare steaks, handing one to him before taking a seat on the couch. They ate in a comfortable, companionable silence; something else Knox had never had but this was easier to accept than being cared for. 

The warm, rich gooeyness of the mac and cheese was like a balm to his soul. Knox could understand why it was called 'comfort food.' Of course, the steak was good as well, seasoned perfectly and cooked just the way he liked it. He set the fork down on the plate and sighed with contentment. 

A warm fire, a good meal and full stomach, a man who cared about him - even if he couldn’t voice how much he appreciated him like he should. Exhaustion pulled at him, a whisper in his ear to let go and tumble down into the void of sleep. 

"Seconds or dessert instead?"

Knox snapped out of his stupor and stared at the empty plate in his lap as if it held the answer to the question. With no answer forthcoming, he made a choice, "Dessert." 

"Should have known," Kaidan answered with a laugh. “You and your sweet tooth.” Grabbing the plates, he went back to the kitchen. 

Knox couldn’t help finding sweets so appealing. Never having access to much food in general living on the streets, let alone anything sweet, he had become addicted. Saying no wasn't easy for him, though he had limits like everything else in his life, except books...and Kaidan, who came back in with one plate, handing it over before taking a seat. Knox moaned when he saw what it was - a thick, chocolate brownie covered in hot fudge and vanilla ice cream with a glass of cold milk. 

“I can’t believe I just heard you moan over dessert with such abandon when you have me right here. What am I, chopped liver?” 

Knox glared at him, which garnered a smirk in response. His brain sluggish, a thought occurred to him when he glanced back at the brownie, adorned with his favorite toppings. "Why only one? You're not having dessert?" 

Usually, Kaidan ate along with him. They were still biotic after all, needing the calories even if they weren't jumping from one mission to the next anymore. 

"I am, after you decide you can't eat another bite, which as you know happens often,” he teased.

This close, Knox noticed the laugh lines crinkling the corners of warm brown eyes; lips turned up in a soft smile, the scars stretched across them; wings of gray in the black hair at each temple...and was hit with a wave of love so strong, he nearly dropped his plate. The strength of the emotion blindsided him, leaving him breathless. 

He glanced down at the brownie, not really seeing it at all, terrified of  this unrestrained emotion. Control was at the center of his very being. Off balance and floundering, he took a bite of his dessert, one much too big, and nearly choked while trying to swallow it down. Kaidan reached for the glass of milk, thrusting it into his hand. Grasping it like a lifeline, Knox took a large drink...nearly choked again but it helped the brownie slide down and he was able to breathe again. 

"You okay?" There was a note of concern in his voice. 

"Y-y-" he coughed again to clear his throat, "Yes." He croaked, voice sounding raw.

Kaidan continued to stare at him, as if he didn’t quite believe it. But Knox took a few more bites of the brownie without any more catastrophes and as predicted, handed it over. The laughter in the brown eyes dispelled any remaining concern. 

He moved, leaning back against Knox to get more comfortable, then cleaned the plate and set it on the table. It spoke volumes to his concern, when any other time, he’d take it into the kitchen. They remained like that for a while, basking in the warmth of the fire, Knox yawning first, then Kaidan, who snuggled down further. Soon, his upper body was resting against Knox’s legs. 

“Does this hurt?” 

“No, I’m fine.” 

The dark head turned, brown eyes gazing up at him, searching his face for a lie. Not finding one, he got comfortable again. Carefully, Knox placed his arm around Kaidan’s chest, letting it sort of...hang there. He was slowly becoming accustomed to touch but usually Kaidan was the one touching, not him. Yet, it felt right. Holding Kaidan, letting him be relaxed and cared for. 

He thought, maybe, he should say something as he mulled over his earlier revelation, give voice to it...tell Kaidan how he felt. Out loud. But as he fought for words, opening his mouth to confess all, a soft snore came from the man lying across his legs. 

A huff of laughter slipped from his lips. Of course, just as he made a momentous decision, the object of his speech had fallen asleep but this time, it happened in his arms. 

[stardancerluv]

Past and Present, the Book Ends of Life

Part 3

Summary: Your first date.

Warning: sex

Sitting, at a high top he took a pull on his beer. This was his first honest date, in well ages. He hoped he wouldn’t screw things up.

“Can I join you?” A soft voice broke into his thoughts.

Startled, he smiled. “Hello, Y/N.” He slid, off his chair. He took a final pull from his beer.

You giggled lightly. “So you caught, my name?”

He smiled. “Of course, I did after noticing your smile.” He liked the pink hue your cheeks took. “Shall we?” He gestured towards the doors.

“Yes.”

*****

Inhaling deeply, the rich curry filled air filled his nose. A waiter soon escorted the two of you to a cozy corner.

“This is nice.” He remarked nervously.

“Yes, it is.” You aggreed, smiling you tucked hair behind your ear.

He looked over at the buffet and then skimmed the menu. The eggs and cheese were long gone. He didn’t think he could wait for a meal to be made. “I choose the buffet, how about you?”

You smiled. “Sounds good to me.” You said leaning in smiling. “I am starving.” You admit.

“Me too.”

You both share a giggle. When the waiter, comes over you both order a drink.

“So Renton huh?”

He shrugged. “Yeah one of the various things my friends call me.”

You smiled. “I like Mark.”

“Great.”

“Here you go.” He said softly, as he handed you a plate before getting behind you.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” While behind you, he looked you up and down. Dresses certainly look good on you, this one laid gently on your curves.

Once your plates were sufficiently filled, you went and took you seats.

“So, I need to know.” You pierced a piece of chicken. “Why are you in hotel?” You popped the piece into your mouth and began to chew. “Are you just popping in a for a quick visit?”

“My friend Simon, found me in Amsterdam. He called in on an old favor.” He shrugged. “So I closed my club for some needed renovations. And here I am.”

Your eyes grew. “You own a club?”

He nodded. “Aye, a night club.”

“That is so exciting.” In your enthusiasm, you took several bites of your dinner. He found it incredibly endearing.

“It can be.” Now, he took a few bits. “Your turn, besides being a very intriguing barista, what do you do?”

Your fingers brushed up against each other, as you both grabbed your drinks.

“Is it that obvious?” You took a sip of your drink then. “That I do other things.” You giggle.

Your giggle, was something he was really beginning to grow fond of. He nodded. “Yeah actually.”

“I’m a teacher, but things are getting moved around at the moment, so I went to work at the coffee shop.”

“Nice.” He smirked. “I always talked too much in class. But I and still like my books.”

“I always talked too much too. So,” you looked away for the first time that night but then you looked back. “How long will you be here?”

“I’m not terribly sure to be honest.”

Quietly, but not in a bad way the two of you finished up your plates.

“Would you like to take a walk, Y/N?”

“Yes, I would.”

*****

You walked side by side, your catching each other. A smile would be shared. There were things he wanted to say but were not sure. So he swallowed them down.

“‘Mark?” You turned to him then. Your eyes shone in the light in the street lamp. “I don’t know.” You pressed your lips together looked away for the second time, this evening.

His heart beat hard and fast. It was easy for him to imagine walking over to a high cliff. It was electric when he touched you. He drew your face up gently. “No regrets,” He imagined jumping off the cliff. “Let’s just see where all of this takes us.”

“Yes!” You kissed him them. It shook him. It had been ages since he kissed anyone.

“I’m sorry..I...I...”

You must have felt his surprise.

He met your lips then and he kissed you. Your lips were far softer then he would have ever expected. Your lips danced as they met. Your hand felt great as it rested on his cheek. Easily, he pulled you close wanting to feel more of you as you kissed.

A car zoomed past and whoop and cheers filled the quiet night air.

Giggling, the two of you parted your eyes meeting.

“I liked that.” He finally says as he finds his voice.

“I want more.”

“Me too.” He admitted as a knot of pleasure formed in his stomach. “We could have a drink at my room.”

“Yes.” You nodded.

******

He could barely breath as he reached into his pocket to take out his hotel key. It beeped. The red light shone. It beeped again. The red light was there almost instantly.

“Allow me.” You smoothly took it from him. Gently you blew across the security strip and then you inserted it.

It made the better sound and the green light illuminated.

“Well, there we go.” He opened the door, and soon tossed the key onto the table near the door.

Going in, you glanced. “You are rather neat.” You smiled up at him.

He shrugged. “It’s a hotel room.”

“Does that mean your flat back home is a disaster ?”

He smirked. “Maybe.” He chuckled. “Nah, I’ve never been one for huge messes.”

“Ok.” You smiled, he watched as you rocked on your heels. “Will you give me another?”

“What?”

You smiling, closing the distance your hand caressed his cheek. He put his hand over his. “Oh, I can give you one of those.”

He kissed you then. As you did so your arms wrapped then tightened around each other. Pleasure plucked his heart as he heard you make a soft sound as he deepened the kiss. You tasted far better then any dessert.

For a moment, you broke the kiss glancing around. You smiled then at him, before fluttering off.

“Coming?” You met his eyes over your shoulder.

“Yes.”

He watched as you stopped by the bed, slipped out your heels and then pulled off your dress. He shed his jacket. Tearing off his shirt, he went over to you. “You’re so lovely.” He let his hands glide over your body.

You flushed. “Thank you.”

As he kissed you, he smoothed his hands up your back. Carefully, reaching up he unhooked your bra. You let it fall to the floor by your feet. Sitting down, you pushed yourself further onto his bed. He kicked off his shoes and made quick work of his pants.

He climbed up and over you, he kissed you again. You had made him incredibly aroused but he would let you take the lead.

Your breath was hot as he dragged his lips and kissed your throat, your shoulders. You smelled so sweetly, he was growing intoxicated by it.

As he felt you pull him to you, he couldn’t suppress the sound that came from him, when his hard on still clothed in his boxers felt your warm core. As you rubbed gently against him, he groaned eager and wanting more.

“Please Mark..” your voice was tight.

“Yes.”

Moving back, he watched as you wiggled free of your panties. He freed himself finally then. As he came back then over you.

Shaking, and with a tight moan that pulled hard on him, he entered you. Your eyes met and the two of you moved. Moving, to your own beat sounds came and mingled becoming one. Your hands wherever they touched him felt so good. Passions took over, lips and tongues meeting. It had been coolish in the room, but warmth built between the two of you.

******

Out of breath and feeling incredibly good he came to lay beside you. He smiled as your soft body curled up beside him. He wrapped around an around you.

You were breathless, and pressed a kiss on his chest. “I’m so glad I gave you that piece of coffee cake.” Your eyes met and you giggled.

He giggled with you. “I am glad you did too.”

You inhaled. “I...I...”

He felt a small shift in your mood. He looked down at you. “What’s the matter?” He gently ran his hand up and down your arm.

“I am worried. You think I’m easy. I don’t know, when I saw you, I just had to get to know you.” You gushed.

He turned, he brushed some hair from your face. “I never thought that.” He drew your face up, “I told you I was thinking about you. I wanted to get to know you too.” He pressed then a soft kiss against your lips.

@mac-n-cheesie @king-trash-goblin @pooshnulooshnu @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @rentskenobi @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching

[idumpyourgrass]

Just Go With It- Chapter One

Steve Harrington x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: (Eventually) Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Y/n L/n receives an invite to her ex’s wedding and attempts to invite her co-worker Steve Harrington as her plus one.

A/n: I am so incredibly excited for this! I hope you all enjoy it! Lmk if you would like to be added to the taglist

Warnings: Swearing, typos

Work Count: 1.9k

             The bell rang above the door as you push your way into the Police station. You walk over to your desk, throwing your purse on top of it. Grabbing two cups, you make your way over to the coffee machine. You fill one cup up all the way and the other one you fill up ¼ of the way, filling the rest up with cream. You place one cup on your desk and make your way to the back of the office with the other in your hand.

            You walk past the group of officers, laughing at some cheesy joke. A collective group of “Morning Y/n!” cheerfully greet you.

“Morning boys, is the chief in yet?” You stop and ask.

            “You know he’s never in on time.” Officer Meyer tells you. Rolling your eyes, you continue to the back of the office. You place the coffee on the Sheriff’s desk and head back up to the front. The phone rings as soon as you sit down.

            “Hawkins police station, Y/n speaking, how may I help you?” You hold the phone up to your ear with your shoulder as you pick a magazine to flip through.

            “Yes, I would like to report some kids that keep ding dong ditching me!” You flip the page of your magazine, completely unbothered.

            “Oh, well we will get that taken care of right away, can I have your name and address please?” you put down the magazine and grab a pad of paper and a pen, scribbling down the address, “Right, I will send an officer down right away, have a good day, yup, okay bye.”

            “Hey, Rogers!” You call out. Officer Rogers makes his way over to you, “I need you to go talk to Ms. Drew, she has some ding dong ditchers.”

            Officer Rogers gives you a look of disbelief. The phone rings again.

“Hawkins police station, Y/n speaking, how may I help you?” You look at Officer Rogers, raising your eyebrows, “Go!” You mouth, pointing towards the door. Huffing he walks out of the building.

            “Y/n! It’s Steve, I know I’m late, but I’m on my way!” You prop your feet up on the desk.

“Harrington, if you were on your way you wouldn’t be on the phone right now,” You twirl the phone cord around your finger, “Your milk with a splash of coffee will be cold by the time you get here.”

            “Okay, okay, I’m on my way!” Steve hangs up the phone.

You and Steve have been working together for about five years. Working with the “King of Hawkins high” is not what you planned. Truth be told, you actually liked it. In high school, you managed to get away with only speaking to Steve maybe twice. You went off to college, met who you thought was the love of your life, and planned a whole future with him. As it turned out, he wasn’t the one. Once you graduated college, you lived with him for about a year in Indianapolis, you were engaged. Then, he cheated. You moved back to your home own and got a job as a receptionist at the Police station, working with none other than Steve the hair Harrington, Hawkins police sheriff.

            You hear the sound of a car door close and look out the window, witnessing Steve trip over the curb. You let out a laugh as he walks inside.

            “I saw that,” you laugh. He points a finger at you, “You saw nothing,” rolling your eyes, you stand up and follow him back to his office.

            “So far the only call has been about some ding dong ditchers, but officer Rogers is taking care of that, your coffee is on your desk,” you hand him a folder, “here are some papers, I just need you to look over and sign, and that’s all I got.”

            Steve plops down in his chair, leaning back and propping his feet up on his desk, “Jesus Christ, ding dong ditchers? That’s it? Not even any speeding tickets or anything?” You shake your head, “It’s the last day of school, kids will start getting into trouble, trespassing and what not,” you smile at Steve.

“You’re the only thing keeping me alive L/n.”

“Right back at you Harrington,” You shoot him a finger gun and pull the door shut as you make your way back up to the front desk.

Steve throws down the folder on your desk, “All done?” You flip through the papers, checking for his signature. Steve pulls a chair up to your desk, setting down a box of connect four.

Steve separates the black and red chips, sliding the red chips over to you.

“I’m thinking about getting a puppy.” You blurted. Steve furrowed his brows and looked up at you.

“A dog? Why?”

“I’m alone and bored Harrington, I need something to entertain me.” You place a red chip into the connect four grid.

“You don’t need a dog, you need to get back out there.”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, “What do you mean get back out there?”

Steve’s hand hovers over the grid, studying it carefully, finding where his next chip should go, “You need to start dating again, when was the last time you went on a date?”

“No, dating wouldn’t solve any of my issues. Once you start dating, you get attached, and then you think ‘this is the one,’ and then you say I love you and he says it back too but little do you know he doesn’t actually mean it and then he cheats on you and crushes your heart,” you place a red chip in the grid, creating a diagonal line, “Yes! I win!”

            Steve sighs, throwing his arms up in defeat, “You cheated, I don’t know how, but you cheated.”

            Chuckling, you dump the chips out and throw them back into the box. The phone rings and you pick it up, motioning to Steve to pick up the rest of the game.

            “Hawkins Police Station, Y/n speaking, how may I help you? Oh hi Mr. Sheldon. Trespassing?” You give Steve an “I told you so” look, “Teens? South side of the Quarry?” Steve jumps out of his chair, running back to his office, “Alright, I will send Chief Harrington right away.” Steve leaps back down the hall, jumping in the air and placing his hat on his head, “Woo!” He cheers, as he runs out the door.

You grab the mail from your mailbox and unlock your door.

“Bill, bill, junk,” you flip through the mail, “Junk, bill,” you get to the last envelope. Your name and address is written in beautiful penmanship. In the corner, there is a return address you don’t recognize. You place the envelope on the counter, giving it one last look before heading to the pantry. You grab a box of Kraft mac and cheese.

            While you wait for the water to boil you grab the envelope. You carefully tear it open and pull out what’s inside. “Y/n L/n (plus one), You are formally invited to help celebrate Ryan Milar and Franny Kowski as they exchange rings on the beautiful beach of Maui!”

            “Are you shitting me?!” You yell. He has the fucking nerve to invite you to his wedding with the girl he cheated on you with? Without thinking, you throw the invite away.

            You scoop some mac and cheese into a bowl and pour yourself a big glass of wine. You sit down at the dining table letting out a sigh. Your eyes keep flickering over to the trash can. Groaning, you abruptly stand up, making your way over to the trash can. You reach in and grab the invitation.

You remain at the dining table. Your head rests in your hands at you look over the invitation. You look over the pictures of the two of them, laughing, smiling, holding hands in a field, kissing. Using your thumb, you wipe away a stray tear. You slowly move your hand down to the pen that sat next to the invitation, but you quickly retract it.

You grab the sheets and pull them up to your chin. You curl yourself up, hoping this will help hide you from your thoughts. Why can’t you just RSVP no and move on? Maybe it’s because the thought of you going and him realizing he actually loves you is giving you hope. You still think there’s hope that you and he can try again.

 Grabbing your keys from the table, you look at the invitation. It hasn’t moved. Huffing, you grab it and shove it in your purse.

            You sit at your desk, staring at the invitation. A pen hovers over the yes box. Inhaling, you mark it.

            “What’s that?” Officer Meyer asks, picking up the invite. You try to grab it out of his hands.

“It’s nothing!” You stand up on your chair trying to reach it but he keeps it out of your grasp.

“Oooo, a wedding invitation! Ryan and Franny. Who’s your plus one?” Officer Meyer hands you the invite back.

“What?”

“It says Y/n L/n plus one.” You read over the invite. You can’t show up to the wedding alone, that would make you look alone and sad.

“Who the fuck am I supposed to take? I don’t know anyone!”

“I can think of one person.” Officer Meyer nods his head over to the window. Outside, Steve gets out of his car.

You shoot a glare towards Meyer and make your way over to the coffee machine to make Steve’s coffee, or “milk with a splash of coffee.”

“Morning Y/n!” Steve greets you with a smile. You pass him his coffee and watch him walk to the back.

You look over to the invitation that sits on your desk, then to Steve’s office. Taking a deep breath you grab the invite and walk to his office.

“How’s it going Y/n?” Steve takes a sip from his coffee.

“Steve I have to ask you something, and before you say no, I would just like to remind you of all the things I have done for you these past five years. I give you coffee, just how you like it, I have brought you spare keys when you got locked out of the cop car, I have reminded you every year to wish you colleagues happy birthday, I have attended every office party we have had just because you whined about me not going,” Steve just stares at you, his mouth slightly open, “I laugh at all your jokes, even if they aren’t funny, I play games with you, I help you out with your family problems I-“

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Steve cuts you off.

“I need you to be my plus one to Ryan’s wedding.” You get right to the point.

“Ryan? Why does that name sound familiar?” Steve questions.

“Ryan’s, uh Ryan’s my ex.”  Steve’s mouth drops.

“He invited you to his wedding?! That piece of shit!”

“So, will you go with me?”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve responds.

“I should mention,” You hesitate, “it’s in Hawaii.”

Steve nearly spits his coffee out, “Hawaii?”

You slowly nod.

“No, I’m not going to go to Hawaii so you can watch you ex get married.”

“Steve, no please, please, please!” You beg him.

“No, if it was here, sure, but I’m not going to Hawaii.”

“Steve Harrington! Please!” You yell. He looks up at you, seeing how much stress this is causing you. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Please, please, please, please,” you whisper.

“Ok, fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @mochminnie​

[sebsallowapologist]

Pothos: Pt 2

Okay well that was awesome! I didn’t know that many people were going to like / read my story thats so cool! 

Anyway, heres a part 2, please tell me what you think and if you’d like more!!

If you need to read the first part you can do it here

I slowly unlock the door and twist the handle, pulling it back to reveal him in all his glory. Well certainly not all his glory, my feeble human eyes would never give the man justice. “Bella.” He says, breathing out my name, as if he’d been holding his breath for a very long time. I nod at him, keeping my hand on the door. “W-What are you doing here?” I ask and he shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He says and it sounds honest, and painful. Had he not hurt me enough?

“May I come in?” He asks and I realize that he’s in Los Angeles. Edward- my Edward- who sparkles in the sun is standing on my front step, hiding from the sun and asking to come into my home. I press my lips together to keep my mouth in a hard line so the manic giggle wouldn’t escape, he was like a movie vampire, not coming into my house unless he had permission.

I open up the door farther and let him into the safe shade that my home provided. He pulls the hood down and my sharp inhale of breath sounds like the softest gasp. He was even more beautiful than I had remembered. Of course he was.

His bronze hair was still perfectly tousled, his eyes were the lightest I’d ever seen them- or maybe my memory hadn’t done it’s job. And all I had done was age. I open my mouth but my throat is dry, and I don’t know what to say. I was asleep not a minute ago and now- I was standing in my living room with a ghost- or an angel I wasn’t sure.  His eyes glance around my living room and land at the full pot of mac and cheese, which makes his eyebrow lift up.

“I wasn’t expecting company.” I tell him as the familiar blush heats up my face. I grab the pot and carry it to the kitchen, throwing it in the sink for now. He follows me into the kitchen with his hands in his jean pockets. “Do you need a few human minutes?” He asks, the right side of his mouth, pulling up into a smirk. It hits me that he could think of those memories, that thinking about the morning after he spent his first night with me- first night I knew about- brought him joy. I was jealous. The memory stabs me in the gut.

“I think I’ve had plenty.” I answer and lean back on my counter. “What are you doing here?” I ask again and he sighs. “I truly don’t know.”

“Are you here to hurt me again?” I ask and I catch a quick cringe cross his face. “No. Nothing like that.” He says and tears prick at my eyes. “Are you really here?” I ask and he looks so confused I have to smile a little bit.

I took some solace in the fact that he was probably cursing himself that he couldn’t read my thoughts- not that I was doing a good job at that right now. I clarify, “You’re not a dream, an apparition? I’m not still drunk from the night before?” I ask and he shakes his head. “I’m not a dream- but I can’t attest to your blood alcohol content.”

I roll my eyes and the motion reminds me of the little headache that was getting bigger with each confusing sentence. I reach out, slowly so that he knows what I’m doing and I gently place a hand on his chest. It was hard, and felt a little warm through the sweatshirt, I move my hand up to his neck to feel the familiar cool skin.  “You’re here? I really haven’t finally snapped?” I ask and he nods. “I’m here.”

He puts his hand on top of mine and I could do it- I could lean into his chest and take it all in- his smell, his touch, his strong chest. But that would make it all so much worse when he left again. I had to think about my future self, was I digging myself further into a hole or had I already reached rock bottom?

I take my hand away and turn around, working on getting some coffee brewed for myself. “Why are you in LA? Isn’t it a little dangerous?” I ask, trying to fill the silence. What are you even supposed to say when the love of your life- the gateway into this magical world you once knew, comes to town?

He chuckles a little, “Any more dangerous than walking home alone from a bar after drinking?” and my eyes narrow. “You fucking spied on me?” I ask and turn around. I see him flinch at the curse world and I close my eyes. “I had to make sure-”

“Make sure of what?” I huff. I was getting mad, make sure that I wasn’t dead?

“If I was going to come back I had to make sure that- you weren’t happy.” He sighs and I blink a few times, my poor brain was having trouble processing all of this. He was trying to see if I ever recovered from the worst pain I’d ever known?

I pour myself a mug of coffee and take a scalding sip as I try to work through all of this. “Please tell me what you’re thinking?” He begs.

“I really don’t think you deserve that.” I huff and he nods, “You’re right, I don’t, I should be here, groveling on my knees for your forgiveness.” You tell me and I sigh, I point to the table in the corner of my kitchen. “Sit.”

He’s in the chair before I take my first step to sit across from him. “Can you answer some questions for me?” I ask and he nods. I sigh, I had to start off slowly- for myself. “How long have you been in LA?” I ask and he sighs, “Three days.”

“Have you been following me all three days?” I ask and he shakes his head no. “Just two. I had to talk with Alice before I did anything.”

“Alice is in LA?” I ask and he nods. “Yes, she loves LA nearly as much as she loves New York.” How long had Alice been here and hadn’t spoken to me?

I blow the air out of my mouth and take another large gulp of coffee. “I hear water eases a hangover- not that I have any experience but you’re dehyd-”

“Thank you Dr Cullen.” I cut him off. I really didn’t want his advice right now, and even though he’s right, a glass of water would help, I don't move from my seat. “What have you been doing for... seven years.” I cringe. 7 years of staying perfect while I collected a few gray hairs and hints of crows feet. If I could wear a bag over my head to talk to him I would have.

“Traveled. I tried studying but I’m not quite sure what I wanted to study.” He says and I nod. “What’s there to study when you already know it all?” I ask and he chuckles a little. It feels off, the Edward I knew seven years ago didn’t look down when he was speaking to me, he didn’t sound bashful, he didn’t wring his hands together when he talked.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask and he frowns a little.

“I just didn’t know what I was expecting when I came in here.” He mentions and I nod. “I’m not giving you the reaction you wanted?” I ask “Did you want me to just- jump into your arms? Start crying and beg for you to stay with me?” - because that’s certainly what I wish my reaction was.

“No! I don��t expect that I just- I guess I didn’t know at all I didn’t really think coming here through.” He confesses and I close my eyes.

“If you regret it, you can just leave. I won’t- I’ll chalk it up to a fever dream.” I laugh cynically, as if this little visit won’t send me into a spiral. I jump when I feel a cool hand on my cheek. “I don’t want to leave.”

That cool hand seems to wash away some of the anger I was feeling even if just for a moment. I take a breath that catches in my throat a few times and lean into his palm, putting my hand on top of his. “I’m just so confused.” I tell him and I close my eyes, just letting the feeling of his hand calm me. “I couldn’t be alone anymore.” he sighs. “I couldn’t live another day without you.”

And just like that I was mad again, I drop my hand from his, “Why are you the one that gets to decide that?”

“I’m not, if you tell me to leave I will, I’ll respect your wishes.”

“Oh so you’ll respect them now?” I ask moving away from his hand, getting up from my seat. “It’s my choice if you leave, but for seven years it wasn’t my choice how we ended. I was just abandoned. But now you’re the good guy because now I get a choice!?” I ask and Edward stands up, so much taller than I remembered. I felt like a toddler angry with their parent.

“I am not- I will never be the good guy here. If I was the good guy I would have never came back, I would have never coveted you in the first place!”

“Well it’s too late for that now! And now you’re back for what? Are you bored?”

“No! Bella why won’t you understand! I’m here for you- I’m here to beg you for forgiveness, I’m here to try and be in your life as much or as little as you’ll let me. I love you.” He says and I shake my head, “Don’t say something you’re going to take back later.”

“I’m not Bella, I love you- I have always loved you and I will love you for the rest of my existence.”

“I don’t believe you.” I mumble, I wanted to, I wanted to believe you so badly, but I couldn’t. My brain was stronger now, it knew how to protect itself. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that this perfect creature wanted me.

“I will spend as long as you’ll let me trying to convince you.” He mumbles and takes my hand in his. We stand like that for a little while with his hand wrapped around mine until it hits me. What was I doing? Being angry at someone who I never thought was going to come back. He said he wasn’t a figment of my imagination, but I didn’t trust this man as far as I could throw him. If I was finally insane I might as well lean into it. “You know, most men when they try to win back an ex lover, they come with flowers.” I smile and if his face could pale anymore it would have.

“Would you like some flowers- you were never the flowers type- and you have so many plants I guess time changes things I will-” He talks at a million miles a second and I laugh a little. “I don’t need flowers.” He smiles back a little bit and I bite my lip.

“So what do we do?” I ask “What do we even do now?” Run back to Forks? Turn back time?  

“What do you normally do?” He asks, flashing his kilowatt smile, seeming to realise that I was kind of over being angry for now. “I don’t want to interrupt.” He says and I laugh, rolling my eyes. As if a vampire ex-boyfriend coming back into your life isn’t the biggest interruption I’ve ever heard of. “Well I would normally work to pass the time, but I don’t have to. I’m guessing we can’t go for a hike.” I laugh and push my hair back.

“Maybe a nighttime hike.” He smiles and I laugh a little. “Or we could just catch up.” I tell him and sit back in my chair. “How’s the family?” I ask, testing to see how good my imagination was.

“They’re well, Esme thinks of you often, begging for updates from Alice.” She says and I nod, “Who I assume has been keeping tabs on me?” I ask and he looks ashamed, “I asked her not too, but she’s not very good with being told what to do.”

“I remember.” I laugh and rub my head a little bit.

In a flash there's a glass of water in front of me. “Please?” He asks and I sigh, taking a small sip. “And Emmett? How’s Emmett?”

Edward laughs, “Good. he’s going to really love that you asked about him.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask and he shrugs. The conversation lulls, “Am I allowed to ask you to dinner?”

“It would be odd considering the fact that you do not eat.” I remind him and he nods, smiling. “But you do, and I would like to buy you dinner.”

“Like a date? As in an adult date?” I ask and he nods “Yes, a very real, very adult date.” He smiles and I nod.

“Really?” He asks and I laugh a little, “Did you want me to say no?”

“No, I just didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m going insane and I want to see if I end up at a restaurant talking to myself.” I smile and he chuckles a little bit. “I’ll convince you that it’s real.”

[snapecanslytherinin]

How are they still employed??

I hope you enjoy!! No warnings just fun times!!!

Word count: 2099

..........................................

How they got employed? Well that is relatively easy to answer; they all aspired to be a part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia and showed great strengths with the ability to easily pinpoint the places the criminals would flee, along with having an outstanding skill in getting information from them that they needed. How they STAYED employed? I can promise you that it is a mystery to each of them at this point. Between the pranks they pull, how much they truly annoy Strauss and how they all barely manage to turn in paperwork done correctly and on time, it is truly an American mystery by now.

There is the time that Kira was caught posting criminal dick pics on Strauss' facebook account, thank god Aaron was the one to catch Kira, or they may have gone missing. Or the time Vel kept hacking the main sound system and played emo hits for the entire day which only made her sad. Then you have the time that Sammy 'kept telling Reid blatantly incorrect facts which ended with him crying in Hotch's office and Hotch taking away Sammy's internet at work for a week. While they may be crucial to the team and how they function, everyone has thought about giving them three their own office to share, hoping to keep the chaos controlled. I feel the best way to explain how these heroes function is just a list of the chaos from the past month.

Kira

1. Monday morning, at precisely 8:30, the bull pen is filled with the sound of a scream from Vel who is currently standing on Reid's desk, using him as a personal shield. Hotch comes flying out of his office, only to see a cackling Kira in the corner and instantly knows Vel has been pranked. Sighing and walking to the back of her desk he sees a rubber realist spider, and rips it off from where its taped. Kira instantly knows they are in trouble when they see the famous Hotchner glare.

"My office. Now."

2. "So how do you think he will react?" Kira asks perched at the edge of Sammy's desk.

"I don't know, but keep me out of it. I'm still in trouble for stapling Hotch's tie to the desk." Before Kira could react, a bombing Italian voice sounds from behind them.

"Kira, I know you are the culprit. Stop putting pasta sauce in my drawers. Do you understand how infuriating it is to expect a pen but get A JAR OF PASTA?!?"

3. Sitting in front of the criminal with Emily at Kira's side, they stare dead at the creep, surprisingly making them shift uncomfortably in the seat avoiding eye contact. The team needed information and decided that Kira was best fit to make him regret ever keeping a secret.

"So" Kira finally speaks up, " you like to murder people huh?"

"Yeah, sure. Why else would I do it?" They answer back sarcastically?"

"Tell me, how would you murder me?"

Walking from the interrogation room, criminal pulled off behind them, Kira walks straight to Hotch, a Proud look across their face, Vel and Sammy running over to hear the news.

"How did you get him to talk?" Hotch questions, a weary eyebrow raised.

"Well I asked how he would murder me, and he isn't a sexual sadist, so APPARENTLY vigorously letting out sexual moans when he explains what he would do and talking about getting some alone time together, it can really make a murderer uncomfortable, and fess up."

Vel

1. Rolling in to the bull pen, Vel slides by Morgan and spins to face the others desk, sitting on top of her own, slushie in hand. Losing a deal with Kira, Vel had to show up to work in roller skates, and deciding to spice it up some, she chose to add heart sunglasses, a work appropriate red flared skirt and a FBI navy shirt she found at a goodwill a year back.

"What in the world are you wearing?" Morgan asks a smile making an appearance.

"I lost a bet, so this is my work outfit. Nowhere does it say I can't wear roller skates. The sunglasses and space buns are just to add to the effect. I think it's very work appropriate!"

The first two hours of the day went along without a hitch until she was called into Strauss' office, for some unknown reason.

"What are you wearing Agent?"

"Well ma'am, I looked through the entire handbook and it says nothing about roller skates, my skirt is the correct length, and if I'm honest, I think I look amazing."

She was excused from the office since, she was correct and Strauss couldn't say a word about it, having her get back to work. Instead of doing the files she needed done, she chose bother Morgan by trying to talk him into getting a pair, showing them off to a proud Rossi and also getting avoid by Hotch, since every time they crossed paths, Vel would grab his sleeve for a free ride, and he refused to let the office see him cackling at the interaction he actually found amusing.

2. It was a rainy Friday afternoon, which resulted in Vel choosing to stay in for lunch, and bug the shit out of Hotch until he murdered her, or found a way to shoo her off; which would be quite hard, because she knew how to talk her way out of a goodbye, jesus does this child have issues? (yes)

Hanging upside on the couch, legs crossed over the back, Vel sat there as a disgruntled Hotch was placed a few feet away at his desk, trying to finish his current pile of work.

"Do you think star fish have feelings?"

"I don't know, Vel."

"Would you kiss Rossi for 500 bucks?"

"I'd rather choke."

"If I lost my voice what would you do?"

"Cry happy tears, probably."

"Fuck, marry, kill; Me, Morgan, JJ?"

"Language, Agent."

"Answer the question."

"Kill Foyet, get rich, never play this game again."

"Nothing about that answer was correct!"

"Fine, fuck, marry, kill, me or Morgan. Only two choices."

"Kill myself."

"WHY ARE YOU SO BAD AT THIS!!"

"You are super pretty, Hotch, you know that?"

"Thank you. Please shut up."

"Do you like me?"

"I can't imagine where I would be without you and the other two migraines."

That left a smiling Hotch and a quite Vel, choosing to take a nap, now tired from all of her questions. Plus who could pass up a nap on his couch?

Sammy

1. "No okay, but hear me out, Reid. It's a talking Mongoose!"

"It isn't real Sammy! why would you believe that!"

It is the last time Reid will insult Sammy's cryptids, I mean what kind of monster do you have to be to argue with Sammy about something so fun and exciting!

It is a week later on the jet, coming back from a long case in Ohio and everyone is thrilled to finally go home. After take off everyone does their own things, Hotch and JJ do some finalizing on paperwork, Morgan listens to music, Rossi and Emily share a drink, Kira and Vel watch a horror movie together, which normally Sammy would join, but instead he sits next to boy genius, rereading a book.

"Wanna play some chess?" He asks with a chipper tone.

"Of course Sam, I'd love to!"

Pulling the board over to them, Sam asks if Reid will grab them some drinks, to which he obliges leaving Sammy alone with the board. Quickly setting up the pieces, he adds a little extra love to Spencer's pieces, him arriving shortly after.

"Let's get this game started!" Trying to move a black piece, Spencer's eyes grow wide before letting out a girlish screech, realizing that Sammy glued his pieces down to the chess board.

While that action got him work grounded for two months, and the out of pocket money to buy a new board, Sammy was content, and Reid learned to not question the cryptids ever again.

2. Sammy wasn't one to often interrogate, usually bored by the slow place or ready to fist fight the room's occupant, but when he does enter that work area you can imagine, just like Kira and Vel, he himself also has an interrogation quirk that shows itself in each case.

"Listen, just fess up to the fucking murder, and I'll hand over the candy of mine you've been eyeing the entire time."

"THIS IS THE LAST TIME I WILL ASK! ARE YOU GOING TO ADMIT TO FIRST DEGREE MURDER, IF I CAN PROMISE YOU'LL GET A LIFE TIME SUPPLY OF COOL RANCH DORITOS!?!?"

"Okay I know this is super serious, and I usually offer the snacks to the criminals for information, but Hotch, if I can talk Vel into sharing her Mac n Cheese cups with you on the jet, will you go drink some water, you look like you could pass out."

All of that is relatively normal, but the next encounter is not something anyone on the team expected to happen, and frankly, caused Vel to have to use her inhaler from laughing so damn hard.

There the team sat, a long dark wood table in the court room, under their clasped hands as they awaited the trial for themselves. The BAU has gotten in trouble before, but when they failed to remove all by standers before trying to take down and apprehend a bomber, resulting in injuries, there they all stood on trial for their actions. In front of them were the supervisory board, all very scary mean looking men, who were bound to scare Penelope and Vel more than any criminal they've seen before. Each person got their own moment alone with the board to speak, although he others were still near by and could hear the events of each private session. Sammy's came third to last, passing Emily who was on her way out. Sitting down he crossed his arms on the table and looked as professional as Hotch could convince him to, waiting for the question to be asked. After arguing with them for what seemed like every question, Sammy had, had enough and knew he was going to be suspended anyways, so thought to have at least a good exiting line.

“Would you like a snickers, Sir? They say you aren’t you when you’re hungry and you are being annoying as fuck right now.”

With that last comment he was excused with a week extra of suspension, but he couldn't care less. He got to get away from that grouch bag and that's just an extra week to go visit his favorite folklore.

THE THREE PIGEONS (DON'T ASK, NO ONE KNOWS)

1. No day was greater for the pigeons, than when they decided to hide tiny plastic babies around the office. They put them where ever they could manage; in everyone's coffee cups, taped to pens, glued to paperclips. The best was when Hotch when to open his bottom desk drawer only to find it filled with tiny babies, the look on his face causing the trio to burst out laughing, and out themselves as the culprits.

2. When I tell you they like to mess with Hotch, I mean this man can never get a moment of silence when they are around (Even though he enjoys their company, he would never admit it) which brings us to the great season of summer, when he couldn't get them vacation time to go camping, he walked into his office the next day, to see a tent step up in the center of the room and his furniture pushed to the side. On the floor sat the group, in pjs, laying in sleeping bags and watching a movie on a tv they somehow managed to get in. The day was filled with forcing to watch one with them on his lunch break, having to quiet the laughter when he got a phone call, and by the end of the day, the whole team was in Hotch's office to do paperwork and enjoy the "camping".

Although they create mass chaos and definitely made some things harder than they have to be, the team would be lost without them, and they sure in hell would be lost without each other in this work force. Now just wait until you hear the story of how they become the BAU teams fuck toys ;) [for legal reasons that last comment was a joke....unlessssss]

@davidrossi-ismydad @good-heavens-chris-evans

[mss4msu]

“Do I Wanna Know?” (Chapter 7)

Summary: On a visit to a local nightclub, the lounge singer catches your eye. Soon becoming a regular at the club, the way you look on the dancefloor gets his attention. You begin to hear stories about the notorious crime lord who owns and operates the small nightclub. When your friends worry that you’ve gotten mixed up with a mobster, you wonder if it’s better to be left in the dark and find yourself asking, “Do I wanna know?” if you’re getting involved with one of the most revered mobsters in the city. 

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Reader

Words: 1807

Warnings: Language, Reference to Violence

A/N: Because I know what’s going to happen, writing this chapter was a struggle bc I just wanna get to the good stufffffff. Thanks for keeping with me babeyeeeees. 

Read the Full Story Here

You spent the entire night over the toilet, your body alternating between bouts of vomiting and intense shaking that caused your whole body to convulse. The scenes of what you had seen replayed in your head and you gagged each time you thought of how hard James had beaten that man. After several bouts of dry heaving, everything went dark.

You awoke to the feeling of the cold tile floor on your cheek. You tried to push yourself up, but your head began to pound violently. You saw a bottle of water in front of you and reached for it, you didn’t know where it had come from, but figured you must have grabbed it from the car on the way home last night.

You contorted your face trying to remember what had happened the night before, which only made the blood in your head beat harder. You forced yourself to lean against the wall and put your head between your legs, praying for the pounding to stop just for a few minutes so you could gather your bearings. You took deep breaths in and out until the pain behind your eyes finally started to subside. 

Once the pain was gone enough for you to think somewhat clearly, you began to go through the events of the night before. You had had a terrible day at work, and so you decided to go to see James at the club, you remembered that bit. You left work and had Peter take you home to change and then he took you for food and then to the club, you could picture that clearly enough. That’s when things got a bit fuzzy. You remembered getting to the club, someone leading you in, you couldn’t quite place the face in your mind, and getting a table in the front. You knew you had drinks brought to you, but you couldn’t recall the number or the contents. You had watched James sing, and the song had been catchy, but you couldn’t think of even one line from it. The song had ended, and you remembered sitting at the table and continuing to drink, but then nothing. You weren’t sure if you had seen James at all, you didn’t exactly know how or when you’d had gotten home, and you couldn’t figure out why you had woken up in the bathroom. 

You heard a faint buzzing, and after realizing it wasn’t your headache, you began to reach around for your phone. It stopped vibrating just as you finally had it in your hand. You brought the phone close to your face, trying to get your eyes to focus on the screen. You had two missed call notifications from James and a few texts from him as well. You unlocked your phone and opened your messages. 

“(Y/N)! Are you alright? You had quite a bit to drink at the club, so I called Peter to pick you up. I asked him to let me know when you were home safe, and he did, but I want to hear it from you too.” -- Saturday 12:02AM

“Don’t forget to drink some, or a lot, of water and maybe take some Advil. I’ll get to the bottom of who was in charge of giving you so many free drinks.”  -- Saturday 12:03 AM

“Hey, (Y/N). Still haven’t heard from you and wanted to be sure you’re feeling alright after last night.” -- Saturday 8:17AM

Your lips twisted up into a smile at how considerate James was to be checking in on you. You sat for a moment with your eyes closed, thinking about how to respond. Finally you typed back:

“Hi James, I’m not feeling my best, but I’m feeling a lot better than I was just a bit ago. Thanks for checking in on me and making sure I got home safe. I hope I didn’t do anything too embarrassing last night, because I can’t seem to remember even if I did” -- Saturday 8:22AM

“Of course. I’ll have some food delivered to your apartment if you think you can stomach it. After all you drank, I’ve got to think you’ve got quite the hangover.” -- Saturday 8:22AM

Your stomach rumbled as you read his text.

“James, you really don’t have to do that, but I appreciate the thought.” -- Saturday 8:23AM

“You bet, doll. I’ll see you later this week. Take care of yourself.” -- Saturday 8:23AM

“Ok” --Saturday 8:24AM

You forced yourself up from the floor and clung to the walls as you slowly walked yourself to the kitchen, your head taking up its pounding beat from earlier. You fixed yourself a bowl of dry cereal and moved to the couch, gingerly laying down and placing the cereal on your stomach. You took a handful of it in your hand and stuffed it in your mouth, chomping away quickly, trying to appease your stomach. You finished your cereal and got more comfortable on the couch, quickly falling asleep. 

You woke up to the buzz of your phone next to you. It was the number for the front door, and you answered hesitantly. 

“Hi, I have an order for (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” the voice in the phone said. 

“Ok,” you said groggily, slowly sitting up, “Be right there.” 

You got up and went to the door, the only shoes you could find were your Louboutins from James. You shoved your feet into them and hurried downstairs to the door.

“Here you go,” the delivery person said as they handed you a large bag. 

“Thanks?” you took the bag and went back up to your apartment.

You sat back down on the couch and opened up the bag on your coffee table. On top was a single white rose. You brought it to your nose and inhaled deeply before gently setting it down and seeing what else was in the bag. You pulled out a large bottle of gatorade and immediately unscrewed the cap and took a long drink of it. Next, you grabbed a large container and one smell upon opening it let you know that it was bacon mac and cheese. You found a smaller container filled with chicken noodle soup. One last container had a giant chocolate brownie in it. 

You picked up your phone and took a picture of your haul, and sent it to James along with a message that said:

“Thanks! This should revive me from my deathbed in no time.” -- Saturday 7:24PM

While James normally responded between minutes, you stared at your phone for three minutes waiting for a reply that didn’t come. You locked the screen and grabbed your tv remote. You put on the first comedy you saw and dug into the mac and cheese. Every minute or so you would pause to check your phone, but you still didn’t hear anything from James. You began to worry that maybe you had fucked something up while drunk. You put a movie on and tried to focus on the plot. When you decided to give up and just go to bed, your phone finally lit up. 

“Glad to hear it.” -- Saturday 11:47PM

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard as you tried to think of what to respond. You ultimately decided not to send anything, as you were too tired to carry on a conversation anyway. You got off the couch, put the leftover food in your fridge, got ready for bed, and then flopped down on your bed. You fell asleep quickly. 

You awoke in a cold sweat in the morning from the most vivid dream:

You were at the club and had wandered down a long hallway full of locked doors until you found a room at the end of the hall that was unlocked. You pushed open the door and a wave of blood flooded over you. You looked up from the blood washing over you to see James repeatedly beating a man. When James looked up at you, his eyes were pitch black and he had a terrible, evil grimace on his face. He came quickly at you, and you stumbled back down the hallway. You tripped and fell and James caught up to you. You woke up before you saw his face again.

You grabbed your phone, getting onto Instagram and going to the White Wolf and the Howlers page, needing to get the terrifying look of the James from your nightmare out of your head. You were able to calm down as you scrolled through the photos of the band and as you got out of bed and went about your day, the nightmare was all but forgotten. 

On Monday, Peter Parker picked you up at your usual time. After exchanging the usual formalities, you sat in silence, wondering if you should ask him about Friday. For the sake of professionalism, you decided against it and continued the ride without speaking. When you got off the elevator at your floor, the new front desk person waved you over. 

“Ms. (Y/L/N), I have a delivery for you.” 

“Oh, thanks?” you responded with confusion, taking the box from them.

You walked quickly to your office, keyed in, and set your bag down so you could attend to the box. You opened it and found the signature James white rose inside. Under the rose was a file folder. You opened it and found a handwritten note on top which read:

“(Y/N), my apologies, but I will be traveling this week to check in on the investments you have already established for me and thus will not be able to meet with you in person. I’ve enclosed my itinerary for the week and will be in touch if I deem any of the companies undesirable upon meeting with them in person (of course, I’m sure I won’t as I know how hard you’ve worked on this, but one needs to be sure). Best, James”

Your stomach dropped at the idea that you wouldn’t be seeing James for at least a week and at how formal his note had been. You instantly began to worry again that it was because of something you had done Friday night. 

You took the note out and found an iPad inside the folder. You opened it and found James’s itinerary and synced documents with your notes about each company. He was meeting with Oscorps Monday, SHIELD Tuesday and Wednesday, Pym Technologies on Thursday, and the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics on Friday morning. He had all of his arrival times scheduled, and it said he would be back Friday night at 6:00pm. At 9:00pm he had put that he was performing at the club. Your breath fluttered and you took this as a sign that everything was alright. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Do I Wanna Know? Tag List:

@mrooks0205​ @shann-the-artist-moon​ @ashtheteenagewitch​ @abschaffer2​ @nootrishus​ @brilliantbellesoares​ @celestialstarshadow​ @yallneedtrek​

Bucky Barnes Tag List:

@basementcafe​ @ria132love​ @courtmr​ @jobean12-blog​ 

Permanent Tag List:

@sophiealiice @mrsdeanwinchester19 @thisismysecrethappyplace @ailynalonso15 @221bshrlocked @hazellnut94 @libbymouse @nerdypinupcrystal @hufflepuffchloe @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @dibsonamericasass

[marvelous-writer]

Merry and Bright

Summary: Peter decides to surprise Tony by decorating his penthouse, in hopes to spread some much needed Christmas cheer.

Word Count: 2,252

Link to read on Ao3

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!! 🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

Thank you so much @whumphoarder for beta reading this and for being so amazing and kind!!

For: 1. “Did you break into my house?” “You refused to put up any Christmas decorations! What choice did I have?”

It’s late into the evening on December 23rd when Peter arrives at Tony’s Manhattan penthouse. Friday lets Peter in through the glass balcony doors, but the moment he enters, he notices that something’s missing.

There isn’t a single Christmas decoration in sight.

“Hey, kiddo. How was patrol?” Tony asks from his position on the couch, looking up at him from his tablet.

“Pretty good,” Peter answers, frowning as he pulls off his mask. “Where are your decorations?” he asks as he walks over to the living room area.

Tony raises an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“Your Christmas decorations,” Peter clarifies.

He sees something flash across his mentor’s eyes —maybe sadness— but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

Tony shrugs, then stands up from the couch. “I didn’t put any up this year,” he says simply.

Peter frowns, watching him walk across the large space towards the kitchen.

“You hungry? I’m in the mood for some mac and cheese,” Tony says without looking back at him.

“Sure,” Peter agrees.

He makes his way over to the kitchen and takes a seat on one of the barstools at the center island, watching Tony move about the kitchen.

Peter wonders why Tony is acting like such a Scrooge this year. This isn’t like him at all; just last year, he threw a massive Christmas party at the compound, which had been one of the best days of Peter’s life.

He knows Tony well enough to know that something’s bothering him.

“Uh…” Peter starts, clearing his throat. “Are you… okay?” he asks hesitantly.

Tony turns away from the stove to face him. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“You just seem a little… off, I guess.”

Tony breathes out a sigh as he takes a few steps over to the center island. He leans his hip against the counter, arms folded over his chest. “Is this about the lack of decorations?” he asks, meeting Peter’s gaze.

Peter starts fiddling nervously with one of his web shooters. “Well, no—or, kind of. It’s just… you just—seem so… well, sad.”

Tony’s gaze drops to the counter as he lets out another sigh, reaching a hand up to tiredly rub at his face.

Peter thinks he might have pushed Tony too far with this. He opens his mouth to apologize but his mentor beats him to it.

“I guess I have been a little ‘off’ lately,” Tony admits, then pauses for a few long seconds. “Pepper and I… we-we’re taking a break.”

Peter’s heart clenches in sympathy at the news. No wonder Tony’s Christmas spirit is non-existent this year. From what Peter could tell, Pepper meant everything to Tony; he loved her more than words could express.

“O-Oh… I’m sorry,” Peter says.

Tony lets out another sigh, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.” He turns back around to tend to the pot of boiling water on the stove.

Peter stares at Tony’s back, noticing the droop in his shoulders. Tony was sad and nursing a broken heart, probably blaming himself for whatever made them split up.

To top it all off, with Happy visiting his mom in Florida and Rhodey visiting his sister and her family in Jersey, Tony was now going to be spending Christmas alone.

An idea suddenly springs to Peter’s mind, causing the corners of his mouth to quirk up.

What if he brought Christmas to Tony?

…….

That’s how Peter finds himself grabbing all of the leftover decorations they had from home and bringing them to Tony’s penthouse.

Peter’s been planning this all day, ever since Tony told him about the charity Christmas gala he would be attending tonight. That should give Peter about five hours to execute his plan.

The penthouse is dark when Peter slips in through the balcony doors.

“Good evening, Peter.” Friday greets him. “Mr. Stark left a few minutes ago. Shall I let him know you’re here?”

“No, that’s okay!” Peter says quickly. “I’m actually here to surprise him by decorating. Can you not tell him I’m here?”

“Of course. I will let you know when he’s on his way back.”

“Thanks,” Peter says before pulling his mask off with a relieved exhale.

He makes his way over to the living room and takes his backpack off just as the penthouse lights kick on dimly to the personalized settings Tony made for Peter’s enhanced senses.

Peter opens his backpack, which is stuffed full of decorations and strands of lights, and starts unpacking it and laying everything out on the couch.

“Hey, Friday? Can you turn on some Christmas music please?” he asks, picking up a strand of lights that needed untangling.

“Certainly, Peter,” The AI chirps back happily, and Peter gets to work.

…….

It takes him almost an hour and a half to decorate, but when he’s done, the penthouse looks pretty great, if he does say so himself. Peter stands back near the kitchen to admire his work.

The fireplace mantle is decorated with garland wrapped in a string of red and white lights, there’s a nutcracker on each end table next to the couch, and there are two stockings hanging up from the mantle — one for Tony and the other for Friday.

But something’s still missing.

Peter’s eyes fall on a large, empty space on the left side of the fireplace. He knows just the thing that should fill it beautifully.

“Hey, Friday? Do you know where the closest Christmas tree lot of from here?” Peter asks, picking his mask up from the coffee table.

“Tim’s Trees is located approximately one block away from your current location,” she informs.

“Great.” Peter smiles as he slips on his mask, the heads up display coming to life.

“Hello, Peter. Where are we going tonight?” Karen’s cheerful voice fills his ears.

“We’re going to get a Christmas tree, Karen,” Peter tells her as he walks out through the balcony doors, making sure they’re locked behind him.

He turns around and breaks out into a sprint before he leaps up, sailing over the balcony railing and free-falling towards the street below. Peter shoots off a web to the closest building and swings off into the cold, snowy night.

…….

“This… was a very… very bad idea,” Peter grunts out as he continues to walk up the side of the building, hauling a six-foot Christmas tree over his shoulder.

Peter is used to finding himself in odd situations when he’s out on patrol as Spider-Man, but this certainly takes the cake. The fruit cake, that is.

On the plus side, the guy at the tree lot was nice enough to give him a ‘superhero discount,’ selling Peter the tree for only thirty-five dollars as opposed to fifty. The guy had been so generous that he even threw in a free tree stand too. The only thing he wanted from Peter was a selfie because he was such a fan, and Peter was happy to oblige.

“Just a few… more… steps,” Peter tells himself, seeing the balcony railing a few feet up.

He can only imagine the headlines tomorrow if someone’s able to steal a picture of him doing this. The Daily Bugle would probably blame him for being a Grinch and stealing people’s Christmas trees.

“Hey, Karen? Ca-Can you find out if Tony’s back yet from Friday?” Peter asks, pausing just below the metal railing.

“Certainly, Peter.”

“Thanks,” Peter says as he adjusts his grip on the tree. While he waits, he looks through the window below his feet at another luxurious condo below Tony’s.

He’s met with the sight of two little twin girls, probably around six or seven, who are staring at him with wide eyes, their mouths agape.

Peter smiles under his mask at them, even though they can’t see it. He nods his head in greeting since he doesn’t have a free hand to wave at them.

“You are all clear to enter, Peter. Mr. Stark is still at the gala.”

Peter breathes out a relieved sigh, continuing his way up the building. When he reaches the balcony, he grabs onto the top railing and pulls himself up with a groan, carefully dropping the tree down on the balcony.

After hauling the tree inside the penthouse, Peter gets to work on setting up the tree on the stand, as well as filling it up with water.

He spends a few minutes untangling the extra strand of multi-colored lights, before he can wrap them around the tree. The only problem is that he doesn’t have any ornaments to hang up, but the tree still looks pretty without them.

“Hey, Friday? Can you turn off the lights for a sec?” Peter asks as he takes a few steps back from the tree to make sure the lights weren’t crooked.

The lights turn off with a soft click, engulfing the room in semi-darkness, except for the soft glow of the tree and the garland hanging over the mantle. Peter smiles to himself as he surveys the decorations and twinkling lights.

Peter is jerked out of his peaceful trance when the penthouse lights suddenly turn on and he hears a sharp inhale from behind. Peter spins around, only to see Tony standing in the entryway, decked out in a tuxedo with a shocked expression on his face.

“T-Tony! You’re home early…” Peter says, giving him a nervous smile.

“Yeah… the gala got boring towards the end so I ducked out early,” Tony says as he steps further in the room, his eyes focused on the tree. He raises an eyebrow at Peter. “Did you break into my house to… decorate?”

“N-No! Well yes, but… I was just…” Peter trails off when Tony raises his eyebrows further. “You refused to put up any Christmas decorations! What choice did I have?” he forces out, his shoulders slumping as he lets out a sigh. “I wanted to surprise you with this. You’ve been so sad lately and… I just wanted to cheer you up.”

A small smile finds its way onto Tony’s face. “You did all of this for me?” he asks.

Peter silently nods in response, and before he knows it, Tony’s crossing the rest of the distance between them and pulling Peter into a hug.

“Pete… I don’t know what to say. I absolutely love it, kid.” Tony tells him.

“Really?”

“Really. The best Christmas gift ever. Thank you,” Tony says, sounding a little choked up.

Peter’s lips spread into a small smile, hidden against the man’s shoulder as he lets himself melt into the hug, eyes closed. “You’re welcome.”

They stay like that for a few long moments before Tony pulls back, Peter swears that he sees tears in his eyes, but he doesn't say anything about it.

“How did you even get this thing in here?” Tony asks, gesturing to the Christmas tree.

“Uh, through the balcony. I kinda just… walked it up here.”

Tony turns to him, brows raised in surprise. “You walked it up the side of the building?”

Nodding, Peter gives a sheepish smile. “Yeah. I’m sorry that it’s not decorated. I didn’t have any ornaments and I wasn’t sure if you had any.”

“I think I have a few boxes around here somewhere. Wanna help me find them?” Tony asks with a smile.

“Only if that includes hot chocolate.”

Tony breathes out a laugh, grinning. “Of course. You can’t decorate a Christmas tree without hot chocolate.”

…….

After Peter changes out of his suit and into a pair of comfy pajamas, he heads back out to the living room to find that Tony is also wearing pajamas, along with his MIT hoodie.

There’s a large cardboard box on the coffee table, as well as two steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and what looks to be drizzled chocolate sauce.

“Ready to get started?” Tony asks. He opens the box to reveal a bunch of ornaments of all shapes and colors.

Peter nods, smiling as Tony hands him an ornament, a shiny red and gold striped bulb.

It takes them over an hour to decorate, but by the time they’re through, the Christmas tree might as well be straight out of a Balsam Hill commercial.

At the top is a beautiful golden star that shines peacefully, pairing perfectly with all of the twinkling lights and red tinsel that’s wrapped evenly around the tree. The ornaments glow in the light, illuminating all of the greens, reds, blues, and golds. There’s even a red and gold tree skirt on the floor below it all.

Peter and Tony are now sitting on the couch with the lights dimmed to their lowest setting, taking it all in. They’ve been quiet for some time now, allowing them to hear the sounds of the busy New York traffic in the streets below. Yet, it’s peaceful in a sense.

Tony speaks softly, breaking the silence, “Thank you for this, Pete.”

Peter turns his head towards him as their eyes meet, Tony’s smile finally reaching his eyes.

“What would I do without you, kid?” Tony says.

The corners or Peter’s mouth quirk up. “Well, I don’t know…” He exhales dramatically. “You’d probably be sitting here in the dark watching reruns of FRIENDS without me.”

Tony breathes out a laugh, grinning. “Probably true,” he agrees. Then after a few moments, he sobers, his eyes going back to the Christmas tree. “Thank you for this, Pete.”

Peter feels a warmth flow through him at his words. “You’re welcome, Mr. Stark,” he says softly.

[doubletriplepowerbomb]

Make it better

Request for @ashluvsaj52 :Dean Ambrose x reader

Can you write a Dean story where he helps his best friend (he’s in love with) raise her 3 year old daughter

Word count: +5300

Warnings: swears, SAD, angst, heavy-ish topics (young single mother, young pregnancy, daughter doesn’t know father, some heartache and a slow burn; stuff like that) But there is a happy ending cause I can’t leave y’all with something sad ;)

Tags: @jenn0755 @zappyzoodle @disturbthepearls @lost-in-the-stories @lithesxx @racingandreigns @rocketgirl2410 @vebner37 @therianfurry46   @littlelunaticfringe @finnbalorlover21 @winged-time-criminal @mrsnegan25  @xfirespritex  

“Dakota… please, Uncle Dean is coming soon.” You breathed as your three year old daughter ran circles around you. You had a laundry basket resting on your hip and you were trying to make your way to the couch, dodging toys and your daughter’s tiny feet.

“Uncle Dean is coming?” She asked with excitement. Your eyes widened and you nodded at her while she squealed. She loved her Uncle Dean, but not as much as you did.

Dean Ambrose has been your best friend since high school, he was one of the only people that stuck with you through everything. You got pregnant with Dakota when you were 22, her dad ran out on you the second he found out, your Catholic family shunned you, and everyone seemed to be against you. Except for Dean. He stuck by you and helped you every step of the way. He was there at the drop of a hat for you always, and you couldn't be more thankful that he was there for you.

“Mommy, why is uncle Dean always here? Where’s daddy?” Dakota’s small little voice and her hand tugging on your shirt grabbed your attention.

“Huh?” You were shocked, Dakota never asked about her father before and you never mentioned him. Why was she asking? How did she even know to ask?

“At daycare, Miss T asked what mommy and daddy do. Mommy has 2 jobs and goes to school. Who is daddy, what does daddy do?” She asked with wide eyes. You put the laundry basket on the coffee table before picking up your daughter and sitting on the couch with her on your lap.

“Sweetie, your daddy ran away before you were born.” You said, it broke your heart to say but you couldn't lie to her.  She just stared at you with confusion and you prayed for Dean to open the door.

“Why did daddy run away?”

“Because he didn’t want a baby. But between us, your daddy is stupid for running away because if he stayed, he’d have you. So he’s missing out on the best baby ever.” Your words put a smile on Dakota’s face.

“Mommy, what about uncle Dean? He can be my daddy.” You smiled sadly at your daughter before she continued. “Uncle Dean has a job. I can tell Miss T daddy builds houses.” Dakota’s words shocked you again. But thankfully, Dean walked through the door before you could answer. You breathed out with relief when you heard the front door open and heavy footsteps walk inside.

“You in here, squeak?” He yelled into the house before the front door closed. Dakota jumped off the couch and ran out of the living room to find Dean. Seconds later, Dean walked into the living room, Dakota hanging on his back. He was wearing a white tank top and jeans with his timberland work boots. He came directly from work. Nothing made you feel simultaneously better and worse than when he came straight from work. Better because Dean came to you right away, you and Dakota were his first priority. Worse because Dean was 26, just like you, except he didn't mess up like you did and he deserves a life of his own.

“You found her.” You joked as you got up to say hi. Dean put Dakota down before wrapping his strong arms around you tightly. You tucked your face into his chest and inhaled deeply. A mixture of sweat and old spice filled your nose and you could feel your muscles relax. Dean rested his chin on your head and moved only to kiss your forehead before putting his head back. The guilt faded and you smiled with the knowledge that Dean came to straight to your apartment, to him, your needs came first.

“Thank you so much for coming over.” You sighed into his chest and he squeezed you tighter. You tried to be strong and take care of Dakota by yourself, and most of the time you did really well. But you did work two jobs and take some online college courses; taking care of a child by yourself is hard work, you were so grateful that you had someone that was always willing to help. “I really appreciate this.”

“Anytime, darlin’.” Dean mumbled before breaking the hug. 

The sad truth was that Dean was hopelessly in love with you, and you had no idea. And he’d never tell you, he didn't want to complicate your life even more so he kept to himself. In the beginning, before he grew to love Dakota, he’d only come for you. It killed him that you had to work so hard and he could only do so much. He wished you’d except the money he offered you, but you never did. But eventually, Dakota became Dean’s best friend, and he told her everything.

“Okay, squeak. What do you wanna do first?” Dean asked, turning his attention to the little girl who stood with a smile watching her mom and uncle holding each other. Dakota started listing all of the things she wanted to do with Dean and his eyes ventured to you, you looked extremely stressed. “Before we get to all those fun things, why don’t we clean up?” Dean suggested as he looked around the living room. Toys were scattered everywhere and you could barely see the floor anymore. Thank you. You mouthed to Dean. He winked at you and turned back to Dakota, who stood with her nose scrunched.

“Your mommy told me that if we cleaned up, I can take you to the playground.” Dean whispered. Dakota’s eyes brightened and she dropped to her knees to start picking up her toys.

“How do you do that?” You asked in awe after Dean walked over to you. He smirked and shrugged before giving you one last hug. “I’m gonna take a shower then do some work.” Dean nodded and let you go.

“You really like my mommy, huh?” Dakota asked once the bathroom door closed. Dean looked amused and he sat down next to the little girl.

“You know I do, squeak. You’re my most trusted spy, Kota.” He said while helping her pick up toys. “So, how was daycare today.” He asked before straightening a barbie’s dress and putting her in the dollhouse.  

“My teacher asked us what mommy and daddy do.” She said easily. Dean tensed at the words, he knew you’d been trying to raise Dakota with the mindset that not having a dad around is normal, he should’ve known that a school teacher would screw that up.

“Oh yeah? What’d you say?” He asked, trying to make his tone sound normal.

“I said mommy has two jobs and that I don’t know who daddy is.” Dakota started. “Then, Miss T asked where my daddy is. I don’t know that. All of the other kids in my class have daddies, why don’t I have one Dean?” Dean’s heart broke for the little girl.

“You don’t need a daddy, Kota. You know your mommy loves you and takes really good care of you.” After that, Dean kept the conversation light. He didn't want to say something you didn't want Dakota to know.

After you had gotten out of the shower, the living room was clean and Dean was sitting with Dakota eating some Mac and Cheese. You kissed your daughter’s head and Dean’s cheek before walking back into your room, hoping to get some schoolwork done while they’re at the park.

The only thing you could think about was Dakota in daycare today. What went through her head when her teacher asked about her father? When all the other kids talked about their dads, what was she thinking about? Then, she asked if Dean could be her dad. She had no idea how heartbreaking that was. She’d never have a normal life, but you were so happy that Dean could act as a semi father figure in her life. You tried to raise your daughter good enough that she wouldn't worry about not having a dad but you knew how important a father was to a little girl. She needed a dad, but she’d never have one. All these thoughts made you question yourself but you shut them out and focused on your laptop. You couldn’t do this now, you didn’t always have time like this to do your work.

After Dakota got sick of the playground, she and Dean walked hand in hand through the park. Not long after that, Dakota begged Dean for ice cream. After almost no convincing and only one pretty please, Dean took Dakota to their favorite ice cream place in the park. They walked through the doors and were met by the familiar scent and face behind the counter.

“Oh, it’s two of my favorite people in the world.” The sweet old lady who owned the place said happily. “Where’s Y/N?” She asked, her tone sweet like the ice cream. Dakota told the lady before ordering herself and Dean the usual, double chocolate chunk for her and mint chip for him.  

As the two sat together, eating their ice cream at the bar, Dakota’s eyes shifted to a bright pink daddy daughter dance flyer. “Molly, what’s that?” She asked the old lady while pointing to the colorful flyer.

“Oh that’s for the daddy daughter dance,” she started before leaning over the counter. “You should bring your uncle Dean.” Molly was well aware of your situation, you and Dean had been getting ice cream there since high school and Molly had always been working there.

Molly’s words reminded Dakota about the question she had for Dean. “Uncle Dean?” She started. Dean looked up from his cone and stared down at the little girl looking back at him. “Why can’t you be my daddy?” His eyes widened. “I could tell Miss T that daddy builds houses. I know you like my mommy Dean, more than a friend. She likes you too, she told me once. She talked about your dimples forever and I don’t know what dimples are.” Dean smiled, his dimples on full display while his stomach did flips.

“You know I’m working on it, Kota. But your mommy is busy taking care of you, she can’t take care of me too.” Dean joked. Dakota looked disappointed, but it didn’t take Dean long to get her mind off of it.  

After another 20 minutes, the sun began to set, Dean and Dakota walked back to the parking lot and climbed in his truck before going back to your house. You were sitting at the table with your computer, surprisingly, you had gotten a lot of work done when Dean walked back inside with Dakota asleep in his arms. You couldn't help but imagine that Dean was her father and it made you happy for a second. You imagined your husband and your sleepy daughter coming inside from playing in the yard all evening. You smiled to yourself but stopped your mind before it upset you. You and Dean put Dakota to bed and stayed up talking for a little bit before he drove back to his own apartment. Leaving you all alone in the silence. 

You woke up to the sound of rain on a Saturday morning. Rain and Saturday were a terrible combination. Dakota didn’t have daycare and usually, you’d take her to the park and do some school work while she played at the playground. But on rainy days, Dakota was cooped up inside the apartment all day. It wasn’t too small, so she’d usually be fine for a couple hours, but at around noon, she’d get antsy and begin to drive you crazy. You didn’t work at the restaurant on Saturdays and you didn’t have to go into work at the massage place before 4pm.

You laid in bed, knowing that Dakota was already awake and will start to get antsy soon. You were so close to getting your business degree, meaning work began to pile up. You had fallen behind on schoolwork when Dakota was sick at the beginning of the week and you really needed to catch up. That’s why the knocks at the door practically brought tears to your eyes.

Dakota was standing at the door, waiting for you to say she could open it. You looked through the peephole, and saw Dean standing with Roman and Seth. “It’s Uncle Dean, and he brought Roman and Sethie.” You said with a grin, Dakota squealed before pulling the door open.

“Uncle Dean! Roman! Sethie!” The little girl yelled, loud enough to annoy the neighbors but you didn’t care. Those guys were jerks anyway. Dakota yanked Seth into the living room to show him her new tea set, while Dean and Roman walked into the kitchen with you.

“Oh you guys don’t want to take her all day.” You said after Dean put the offer out. Dakota was too invested in her tea set to hear and you spoke quietly while you flipped pancakes. “She’s loud and squirmy and she has a short attention span and there’s always toys everywhere. Plus it’s raining and she won’t be able to go outside and she’ll get antsy and-” You spoke while you stared down at the pan. Once you looked up to see the two men staring, you realized what you were saying. Roman looked slightly nervous and you realized they might not agree take her “-and she’s a peach! She’s smiley and energized, but well behaved. And she loves a good time. You guys are gonna have so much fun today, it’s gonna be great.” You said before turning back to the pan. Dean smirked at you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“We’ll take her to indoor mini golf and a movie or something.” Dean whispered before kissing your temple and squeezing you tight. You smiled gratefully at Dean and Roman before taking breakfast to your daughter. She sat on the floor and used the coffee table to hold her plate while she watched Curious George.

“Thanks again for taking her today, you guys. You don’t understand how much I love you all.” You said before hugging each man individually. Roman and Seth work with Dean at the construction site, they’ve been friends for a couple years now. Dean introduced them to you when you were a couple months pregnant with Dakota. They too were always willing to help, but not as much as Dean.

The first stop was indoor mini golf and an arcade. The rain continued to pour down while they played. The conversation stayed light and basic while they played with Dakota. They talked about Dakota’s favorite princesses, and what she does at daycare. After Seth “counted” up the score and Dakota won by a million, Dean gave her 20 dollars for tokens to play whatever games she wanted.

“Dude, I saw how to hugged Y/N earlier. You literally buried your face in her hair and closed your eyes like you were in heaven.” Roman said to Dean while the three men watched Dakota run around the arcade.

Dean sighed and remembered this morning. He hugged you from behind this morning and it was wonderful. You were standing at the stove, cooking pancakes and he wrapped his arms around you tightly, he could get used to that. Dean dreamed that he could wake up every morning and see you, he wished that he could snuggle with you and Dakota in your bed on a cold day in winter. Dean wished for these things everyday, but he never did anything more than think about it.

“Will you ever make a move? We know you love her.” Seth said, a smile on his face while watching the 3 year old pulling tickets out of a machine.

Dean was smiling too, but there was sadness in his eyes. He wanted you so bad. “You guys know I can’t.” Dean started while playing with the pocket of his jeans. “Y/N is so busy with two jobs and school and Dakota, I’m not gonna put another thing on her plate. I can’t do that to her.”

“But, Dean, you’ll be able to help her.” Seth said, confusion in his voice.

“I’ve been her friend since high school, I don’t want to make it weird.” Dean said. “She has so much to deal with I can’t add myself right now.”

The silence in your apartment was nice, you had music on while you did your schoolwork and you had gotten pretty caught up. You had two hours until you had your massage client so you decided to look at some bills.

You couldn’t even hear the music anymore, you’ve been staring at a single piece of paper for over 15 minutes. You could barely afford Dakota’s day care. You wanted so badly for your daughter to live comfortably, without the knowledge  of how hard it is to afford her. The solution was simple, you’d take a break from school, get a third job or start working more at the restaurant.

Roman, Seth, and Dean were no longer talking about you, the conversation rotated between sports, Dakota, and why Roman lost in mini golf.

“Guys I swear it’s cause my putter was too small.” Roman pleaded his case while Seth and Dean just laughed at the big man.

The next thing they knew, Dakota came running. “Uncle Dean! Some mean boy took my tickets!” She said, her lip quivering. “Roman, go beat him up.”

“Oh sweetie, you know Roman can’t just beat people up.” Dean started, wrapping his arms around the child. “But show me where he is and we’ll go get your tickets back.” Dean said. Dakota smiled and grabbed onto Dean’s hand before turning on her heel and leading him through the arcade.

“Oh he belongs with Y/N.” Seth said when Dean was out of earshot. “I mean did you see how he tensed up when Dakota came running? Why doesn’t he just talk to Y/N? I know she loves him back.” Roman agreed.

“He really loves both of them. I’ve never seen Dean care about anything like he cares about Dakota. He’s always there for Y/N. Like seriously, he barely worked when Dakota was sick. He goes directly to Y/N’s almost everyday. And he still claims that he doesn’t want to bother her, it hurts watching the two of them sometimes.”

The checked your phone, you had to get to work if you wanted to talk to your boss. You got up from the stool in the kitchen and walked into your room to grab your purse. You left a note on the counter and walked down the street.

“Hey Y/N, you’re here early. Your appointment isn’t for another 30 minutes.” Your boss said when she saw you walk into the back.

“Hey Sarah, yeah I came early cause I need to talk to you. I was wondering if you could put me on the schedule for some other things. I could cover for people and massage clients that don’t have someone yet. Or maybe I could do the opening or closing shift-” your boss cut you off before you could say anything else.

“Y/N, tell me what’s going on. Why do you need these extra jobs?” Sarah was aware of your situation but you tried to not beg for money.

You knew you wouldn’t get out of this. “I can’t afford Dakota’s daycare and I don’t want her to know that her mom is struggling to take care of her.” You wanted to be strong for your daughter.

Sarah looked at you with a smile. “You’re a wonderful mother and I really admire that you ask for more work rather than a higher rate. And of course I’ll add you to the schedule when I can. Lisa works the closing shift but if you want to work the openings you’re welcome to after you drop Dakota off at daycare.” You smiled widely and thanked your boss before giving her a hug and walking into your massage room.

“Did you have fun today, Kota?” Seth asked as they walked out of the movie.

“Yeah! Today was so fun. That movie was so good. You guys stink at mini golf.” She giggled as Roman carried the little girl on his back.

“Don’t brag too much, Dakota. We’ll have rematch and we’re gonna beat you next time.” Dean joked, his fingers poking Dakota making her giggle again. Dean couldn't get enough of that little giggle, he would pay good money to hear it everyday of he could. 

You were sitting on the couch, your computer on your lap. You were so grateful that both your boss at the spa and at the restaurant let you work extra shifts, but that meant you’d have to take a break from school. Which you didn’t mind. You wanted Dakota to continue daycare and go to preschool, all while not knowing that her mom was struggling.

Dakota was asleep in Dean’s arms when the three men walked into your apartment. “I’ll take her to bed.” Dean whispered while Roman and Seth hugged you goodbye. They left after another couple minutes, leaving you alone with Dean and a sleepy Dakota.

“I wanted to thank you again for today, I just- she can be a lot to handle sometimes.” You said after Dean walked out of Dakota’s room and softly closed the door.

Dean smiled genuinely and grabbed your hands, leading you to the couch. “I know, but it’s really no problem. You know you can call me when you need help. I’ll always be here to help.”

“Dean… she asked about her dad yesterday.” Your voice was soft and you could feel the tears coming. 

“I know...” Dean’s voice was soft and trailed off into nothing after the two words left his mouth. 

The next thing you know, tears were falling fast down your cheeks and everything came out. “I'm so tired. I love her, but I’m exhausted. I can't deal with this now too. It’s not fair that she won’t have a dad, but I don't want her to know him. It's just that this is so hard and you have no idea how happy I am that you’re here.” Your voice was now softer than a whisper and Dean was leaning against you to hear your desperate words. “And now I have to get another job because she’s starting preschool soon and I can't afford it. I'm gonna mess this up. I’m gonna mess my little Dakota up.” You felt Dean’s arms wrap around you tightly and you felt at home there. You buried your face in his neck and let his scent fill your nose.

“Are you kidding, Y/N? You’re such a strong person and Dakota got lucky with a mom like you.” Dean let you go but kept his hands on his shoulders so you could look at him. “And so what? She doesn't have a dad? Who cares? She's better off anyway, her birth father is an idiot. And I'll always be here for you. Whenever you need me, I’m here. You know that.” Dean’s arms wrapped around you again and he pressed his lips to the top of your head. “I know how much you do and I know how stressful it is. My mom raised me and my brother by herself and look at me now, I'm just fine. And my mom was a druggie, so Dakota's gonna be set. She's real smart, too. She’s gonna go to a good school and be perfect and smart and pretty, like her mommy.”

“I’m taking a break from school.” You mumbled against his shoulder. He asked you to repeat yourself and he moved your head off of his shoulder so he could hear you better. “I got more hours from both jobs and I’m gonna take a break from school until I know I can pay for daycare and preschool.”

“No. I’m not letting you do that.” Dean started firmly. “You already work as a waitress and you're a masseuse. There’s no chance in hell I'm letting you stop taking those fucking business courses. Y/N, you started off as a free-lance who gave massages out of your apartment. Now look, you told me last week that you got a job at a good place and that soon, you’ll be able to quit your waitress job. You're gonna get a fucking business degree and you're gonna open your own place in Hawaii like you've always wanted. Like you told me when we were in high school.” Dean’s voice was quiet too and he reached up to wipe the tears from your cheek. For some odd reason, it broke his heart to think you’ve given up on your dream. He hoped to live it with you.

He had a dream about that once. You were leaving for the airport and he dropped you off, they didn’t allow him to take you to the gate. As he was driving down the highway, he’d realize what he was doing, what he was losing. Then, he’d make a tire screeching U-turn and speed back to the airport. He’d fight through security and run to the gate. You’d be getting on the plane but he’d call out your name, you’d stop walking at the sound of his voice. You turn around, drop your suitcase and run to him. “I can’t live without you, Y/N. I love you more than words can describe. Take me with you.” He’d neg while holding you tightly in his arms. You’d nod your head and go with him to Hawaii. And everything would be perfect.

“Dean, that was a long time ago, that was my dream before I was pregnant.” You said. The look in his eyes made you feel guilty. He was so excited when you told him about your dreams. He wanted to go to Hawaii with you, and you wanted him to come.

You had the same dream, Dean stopping you at the airport, begging to go with you. You just never knew he had dreamt the same thing. 

“So, Dakota will love it in Hawaii. I’m not letting you sell yourself short. You're smart and I know you can do it. Plus, I'll be here for you, I'll take care of Dakota whenever you need me.” Dean’s normally rough voice sounded extremely soft and silky when he spoke. His blue eyes seemed brighter than you’d seen before and he held your face gently in his hands.

You opened your mouth to speak but your voice failed you, so Dean spoke instead. “You’re such a wonderful person. And stop crying, you know how upset I get when you cry.” Dean pressed his forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop crying though, it had been so long since you let this all hit you and you knew it wasn’t gonna stop. “Y/N please don’t cry.” Dean whispered, his lips only an inch away from yours.

“Dean,” your voice was close to silence but he heard your silent begging. You were begging for him and he knew it. You were begging for his lips on yours, begging for his arms to hold you, begging for him to make it all better. “please…”

That one word was all he needed and Dean smashed his lips against yours. Both you and Dean melted into the kiss and forgot about the whole world. Dean’s hands moved from cradling your face to your hips before lifting you into his lap, still not breaking the kiss. Your hands trailed all over Dean’s strong body as if you’ve never touched another human being before this. Your hands traveled his body erratically before you pulled on the hem of his shirt. You didn’t know what you were doing, but you didn’t want it to stop.

Dean picked his back up off the couch cushion so you could pull his shirt up and only broke the kiss for a second when you pulled his shirt over his head. You had seen Dean shirtless before, but you looked at him differently now. You felt an ache in your gut for him, you’ve wanted him since high school and now you had your chance. Dean smashed his lips into yours again after you had seductively dropped his shirt onto the floor behind you.

Dean broke the kiss again only for a moment to look at you. Your hair was a mess from his hands tangling in it, your cheeks were flushed, and your lips were red and swollen from all the kissing. He needed to know if you were okay with all of this, you nodded your head, telling him that you wanted more. He fumbled with your shirt before you covered his large hands with your own.

You pulled your shirt off slowly and dropped it onto the couch while Dean stared at up at you with wide eyes. His calloused fingers ran up your sides slowly, his eyes staring down at the goosebumps his fingers left in their wake, as if to memorize the feeling of every inch of your skin. Dean’s hands finally made it back to cradling your face and he stared at you with admiration. You felt your face redden and Dean’s lips press to your nose. He quickly adjusted his grip on you and lifted you up off the couch to carry you to your room.

Dakota’s small feel padded through the kitchen to the living room. It was Sunday morning and mommy always said to play quiet on Sunday so she could sleep. Sunday was the only day you didn’t work and you tried to cherish your sleep. As Dakota made her way to her barbies, she stepped on a shirt. Her eyebrows scrunched, she’s seen it before. She picked it up and the familiar scent caught her nose. It was the white shirt uncle Dean wore yesterday. Why is it on the floor? She looked around, uncle Dean’s boots were still by the door. He didn’t go home.

“Mommy,” Dakota’s small voice was quiet while she opened the door to your room, Dean’s shirt clutched in her hand like a blanket. The little girl’s eyebrows scrunched and she dropped the shirt once she saw her uncle Dean sitting up in her mom’s bed. His fingers were interlocked together and his hands were resting behind his head. “Where’s mommy?” She asked while she climbed into the bed.

“Your mommy’s in the bathroom.” He said calmly before moving his hands and letting Dakota cuddle up to his side. Just like her mom did. “Dakota,” Dean said after a moment of silence, the 3 year old’s attention shot to Dean. “I kissed your mommy last night. But you can’t tell mommy I told you. Pinky promise?” Dean suggested, holding out his pinky finger.

Dakota wrapped her tiny pinky around Dean’s, her eyes brightened and she opened her mouth to speak when she heard the news but before she could get any words out, the bathroom door opened. “Good morning, Kota. How are you sweetie?” You asked, pretending to not be surprised by your daughter in your bed. You immediately felt exposed in front of your 3 year old, you were only wearing an old shirt of Dean’s that he had left at your apartment a while ago.

“I’m good, mommy. Uncle Dean told me a secret!” The little girl said excitedly. You raised your eyebrows, knowing it wouldn’t be long until she spoke. “You and uncle Dean kissed!” She squealed, not even a second later. You smiled at your beaming daughter and the embarrassed man in your bed.

“Well Dakota, I have another secret for you.” You said when you walked closer to Dean and your daughter. Dakota’s bright eyes and wide smile turned to you before you spoke. “I’m gonna kiss him again.” You whispered, it was definitely loud enough for Dean to hear, but he acted like he didn’t. He stared at you innocently before you leaned down to peck Dean on the lips and crawl into bed on Dean’s opposite side.

You sat in a comfortable silence with Dean in between your daughter and you. After a couple minutes, Dakota’s little voice broke the silence. “Mommy, can I tell Miss T that daddy builds houses.”

Your stomach dropped at your daughters words and guilt filled you. Dakota didn't mean for the comment to be uncomfortable, she didn’t know. Apparently, you didn’t know either. You looked at Dean with an embarrassed look on your face but he grabbed your chin and kissed your lips softly. He nodded his head to you softly before turning back to the 3 year old waiting for an answer.

“Yes you can, Dakota.” Dean said. The little girl beamed and you cuddled closer to him.

Eventually you’d tell Dakota all about her real father and that Dean should never replace that, even if she has never met him. You’d also tell her that if she ever became curious about her father that you would help her contact him. But you’d tell her that when she got older and would be able to understand better. You’d never let her begin to think that Dean was her birth father, but having him as a father figure would be great for her. And great for you too. But you’d say all of this some other time, right now you just wanted to relax and let Dean do what he said he would; make everything better. 

[littleliv1]

I Was Born To Love You- Part Two

Hey guys! I’m getting great feed back from my previous posts and thank you all so much for it! I’m taking requests and prompt ideas so just lmk what you’re looking for!

Summary: Leah and Austin are growing further apart, but she meets the guys today, and becomes their assistant as well.

Warning: slight angst, kissing, but that’s about it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was weeks later, and Austin started to come home later and later. Always with a different excuse, but backed up by Shelly, and always came home smelling the same. I stared to dread coming home, but I did because I knew I’d get to be with my baby, Lola. Whatever he was going through, I knew it wasn't something I could help with. And it hurt so bad. He stared to get physical. There were marks on my arm from him grabbing me and throwing me against the wall. I started to question who I was truly married to.

I loved work, though. Today was the day that I got to meet the cast. And, from what Mr. Singer has told me, they were excited to meet 'the best assistant that one could have'. It was 5 am. I got up, looking next to me. Austin was passed out. We had a nice night last night, one that was definitely needed. I knew he was getting worse, but I still loved him. I kissed him on the shoulder as I got up to put a shirt on. I grabbed my cloths for the day, my phone, and went to shower.

I wanted to make a good impression on the cast. Being a very hot day in California, I wore navy blue, black, and white shorts, not too short so I didn't look sleazy, but short enough to show off my tan legs. I also wore a low cut, loose fitting tank top with a sports bra, but grabbing a light jacket to cover my arms. I put my hair in a ponytail and let the natural curl do it's thing. I slipped on my tennis shoes and left. It was 7 am. I always left the house at 7 am. I grabbed coffee, the usual, one iced vanilla late for me and one straight black for Mr. Singer. I drank all of mine before I got to the staging area. They hadn't began filming yet, but they were just getting a feel for the vibe of the movie, going over lines, things of that nature. I showed up at 7:45 am. Right on time, like usual. I sped walked into the building, meeting Mr. Singer as he sped walked, handing him his coffee. "What a delight to see you this fine morning, my dearest friend." I smiled at the word friend. Stacy never called me her friend. "You too, Mr. Singer. How was your weekend? You hadn't called or anything on Sunday, I assume you didn't need anything?" I asked him. He laughed a bit. "My darling, why would I have called you on a Sunday?" He asked. "Enough with 'me' talk. Let's talk about the guys." He said, both still speed walking. To where, I weren't sure. I just followed.

"Alright," I said. "I'm asking you this because I trust that you'll be honest with me." He stopped, so I stopped. He turned to face me. "I know you're my assistant. And you're a damn good one, my dear. But there aren't many things I need much help with. So you wouldn't be doing much other than getting food and coffee. How would you feel about also assisting the boys?" He asked. My eyes widened. "As in?" I asked. "As in Gwilym Lee, Ben Hardy, Rami Malek, Joe Mazzelo, as well as Brian May and Roger Taylor. I know it's a lot, they're not high maintenance and they tend to do things for their own, but I'll pay for 6 times the amount we pay you now, one time for each person. I know it sounds like a challenge, but I think you could do it, but only if you want to." He said. I laughed, almost in disbelief. I stuttered at first. "Y-yeah, Yes! Yes! I'd love to! This is amazing, thank you so much, sir!" I said as he pulled you into a hug. "Call me Bryan, love."

I stared walking again. I was staring at the ground, smiling so big. This was amazing. And it was your honor to serve the legends that are Brian May and Roger Taylor. I could only imagine, though, how much of a prick they might be. Wow I'm pretty nervous. He stopped at a door, looking over to me. "Do you need a moment to compose yourself, darling?" He asked, smiling. I kept a straight face, shaking my head. I remembered what Stacy said, that if i didn't remain professional I'd loose everything. "Alrighty, then." He said, opening the door, the six of them stood there.

I had never heard of any of them besides the two. They were all, so, surprisingly handsome. "Good morning once again boys, this is Maleah, your new assistant, also long time queen fan as I've understood." He smirked over, looking at me. My face turned bright red, as I refused to make eye contact. I knew if I did, I'd lose my mind. But there they were. They all shook my hand, introducing themselves. They were all so kind. I noticed a pair of light blue eyes that munched resembled mine. Bryan handed me the clip board, there were a list of things to get done for them, not at the fault of them, of course, but the list was lengthy. I didn't mind, though. "Don't worry about getting everything done today, I want you to spend the next few days getting to know them. You'll find that at the end of the week, you'll have done everything on that list." He said to me, turning to the rest. "As for all of us. Get to know each other. You will all be spending a lot of time together. We start filming next Monday. But, we're flying out to London." That word trailed off in my mind.

'I'm so sorry, Maleah. Your Mum and dad passed in the wreck." I heard the doctor say over the phone. I fell to my knees, crying, as Austin cried with me.

"We are starting at the Live-Aid performance. On your free time, study that performance. Watch it thousands of times. Memorize what your person does, when, and how they do it. Mr. May and Mr. Taylor, please follow me as we will start with our own work" He said to the two older men. I looked up at them smiling slightly. Roger pulled me into a hug. "Welcome, Love. So glad to have you with us." He said, as Brian hugged me as well. "So so glad to have you, dear." He said.

'Holy shit! That just happened!'

I was still in awe until I heard a deep British voice chime in. "Big fan of queen, yeah?" The tall one named Gwilym said. I looked at him, nodding my head, slightly smiling. "Well don't be shy, Maleah, tell us about yourself." The blonde one named Ben said, patting the chair next to him. You sat the clip board on the coffee table, sitting down. "For starters, call me Leah. What do you want to know?" I asked. I wasn't sure of how to respond, it wasn't normal for my bosses to know personal things about me. The one named Joe raised his hand. I giggled slightly as I raised your eyebrows. "Do you have any animals?" He asked. I smiled. "Why yes I do. She's a German Shepherd named Lola." I showed them my lock screen of me, Lola, and Austin. Rami took the phone. "This is too precious. Is this your husband, or brother, or?" He asked. I looked slightly down and slightly shameful. "My, uh, husband." I said. I could feel the tense atmosphere in the room. But Joe broke the tension.

Hours had gone bye and we were cracking up listening to stories of the most embarrassing moments they've had. I started to get slightly hot after laughing for so long, so I decided to take off my jacket, forgetting about the marks on my arm. Ben took notice of it, while the others were laughing at a story Gwilym was telling. Ben and I made eye contact as I slowly pulled my jacket back up. "Well, mates, I'm going to show Leah where all of the important things are, if that's alright with you guys?" He asked, giving a thumbs up for confirmation. I inhaled slowly knowing I'd have to explain to him what happened. They all said it was fine and that they needed a break from laughing so much. Ben and I started walking throughout the studio, walking outside. It was silent for a few minutes.

"So," He started. I looked up at him. "Are you gonna tell me what those are?" He asked, raising an eye brow. I looked down. "I don't know what you're talking about." I said quietly. He stopped me, gently taking off my jacket. "Love, what are these?" He asked, lightly running his fingers over the bruise. It felt nice to be touched in a non-sexual and non-abusive type of way. It made me feel warm inside. Comforted. "I wouldn't suppose you'd believe me if I said birth mark?" I asked, turning my head. "If they were you wouldn't have put your jacket back on. Tell me what happened, if you're in trouble-" "No!" I snapped. He wouldn't  understand that my husband is very ill, that there's something wrong with him, and that I can't leave him. I calmed down. "I'm not in trouble, I just-" I trailed off. "I don't know." I said quieter. He sat me down on a near by bench.

"Talk to me. What's going on?" He asked. I knew he cared, which was nice of him, but it raised slight fury in me; it wasn't any of his business what was going on. "Don't worry about it right now, please. If it because an issue, I'll tell someone, maybe, it's just complicated. Please don't say anything." I begged, gripping his arm. He looked down and smiled at the sight. He nodded, looking back up at me. "I won't. But if I see more after these it's going to become an issue and I'd hope you'd tell someone." He replied. I let go, nodding your head understandably.

After the day was over, I went home, not surprisingly, with no one else there. It was about 8 pm, I was pretty late. I was hungry and didn't want to wait on Austin. So I cooked some Mac and cheese, green beans, and left over spaghetti from the night before. After I finished eating, I watched some TV with Lola. She had her own place next to me with her head in my lap. About 15 after 10, I got tired of waiting for him to come home. I wrote a note to my very late husband saying how I fixed him a plate and put it in the microwave, and how with the new job working for all of the guys now I'll probably get home around 8 or 9 every night now. I signed it 'with love' and went to bed.

I woke up around 4 am to Austin climbing into bed. Unbelievable. I faked being asleep. I could feel his eyes staring at me. Instead of cuddling up to me, he just took more blanket and went to sleep.

Once I got home from work that day, Austin was actually home. I smiled at him. "Hello, darling," I said. He was leaning against the table, something was wrong. I grazed my hand over his back. "Everything alright?" I asked. He gently batted my hand away. He nodded his head. After a moment, he turned to me.

"Can I make dinner tonight?" He asked. "Well, sure, if you want, I really don't mind it," I said. "No, you spend all day everyday working for, men, just to come home to work for another. When only one of those men respects you. I'll make your favorite food." I giggled. "My actual favorite food or my favorite dinner?" I replied, smiling. "Your actual favorite. Popcorn, root-beer, and the newest season of 'say yes to the dress'." He replied, sniffling. I could tell he had been crying. I smiled. "You're so sweet, my love."

I cupped his jaw with my hand, giving him a gentle kiss. "I'm thankful to come home to you." I said. He pulled my hand from his face, kissing your palm. He popped the pop corn as I turned on the tv in the living room. Lola got on the couch to join me, sitting right next to my side, like she had been the last few weeks. I saw Austin coming and I motioned her to get down. The show hadn't started yet, so I decided to take this time to talk to him. "Talk to me, love, anything new going on at work?" I asked, muting the TV.  He shook his head, drinking a beer. "Any new bands about to start their first tour?" I asked. Again, no verbal response, just a shake of the head. "Well, I have some pretty exciting news to tell you," I said. He looked over at you. "I'm going to London next week, and I think we will be gone for 4-6 weeks." I said. I knew it was a shock, but I was hoping he wouldn't be too mad. "That's nice, dear." He said looking at the TV, unmuting it. He finished the beer he had just opened, just to get a new one. I started to feel a pit of shame forming in my belly from the rejection I felt by my husband.

I hope you are enjoying this serious as much as I enjoy writing it. Again, any requests, shoot me an inbox and I’ll get to it! Thank you loves xx

[orionwhispers]

Devil Like Me (Part IX)

(A/N I know its been a while but I hope you love this next part! Sort of a “filler” but big things are coming! Love you all, thank you for being so kind and patient) 

Then

Winter had slipped away, and the breath of spring was lingering in the air. You sighed, feeling content as the warmth of the sun bathed your limbs. You spread your fingers along the metal of the car, smiling at the heat radiating off it, sending shocks along your fingertips.

"That exam was hell."

"Tell me about it." You murmured, falling back into your comfortable position on the hood of Jasmine's yellow car.  You exhaled, glad for the fresh air, a welcome change from the stuffy classroom you had spent the past two hours in. Until the stench of smoke tainted your nostrils. You immediately recoiled up, grimacing at the stale smell, and stared blankly at Jasmine, her slender fingers grasping a lit cigarette.

"What?" She questions, pulling the rim of her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose.

"Since when do you smoke?"

She glances at the roll between her fingertips and shrugs, "I dunno. I just did."

You swivel your eyes and kick her lightly, "This wouldn't have anything to do with Greg would it?"

"Er - no."

"Good." You smirk, watching as she inhales, before breaking into a fit of deep coughs.

"Fuck it." She laughs still spluttering, dropping the smoke onto the floor and crushing it between the soles of her boots, "I thought I could get into it! But its so gross."

“Greg's gross." You childishly retort, giggling as she slaps you on the stomach, face pulled into a frown but her emerald eyes shining wildly.

You watch through hooded eyelids as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a stick of gum, then grabs her phone and checks the time, a photo of you both beaming widely set as the lock screen "About half an hour before we need to get back to school."

You tap your fingers in acknowledgement, feeling Jasmine's presence slink next to yours. Through the top of your sunglasses, you can see the view, the ocean in the distance, the light dancing on the top of the water. It was a relief to be out of the confinement of the classroom, the past few weeks had been hell. Studying for exams until your eyes felt sore, living on a diet of red bull and mac and cheese as you tried to cram your head with as many algebra equations as you could. Your bedroom was scattered with college leaflets and scholarship applications, left bare as you grew tired lying about how ecstatic you were about the laws of gravity.

The tops of the trees in the forest came into your line of sight, the bushy green needles protruding your thoughts. You directed your attention to a seagull perched atop of the post office, you didn’t need to think of him. But if you did - you'd think about how it had been months without a trace, not so much as a twig snapping in the distance as you drove to school. His absence had been strange, a relief at first. Finally, you could concentrate on your life without disturbance, but as the days turned into weeks you realised that you liked the distraction, the feeling of having someone watching from the sidelines. You couldn’t help wondering if maybe you had been too harsh with him on the night with James, but you shook away that thought as soon as it entered your brain, he was a monster, he didn't care about you.

“Greg's going to be 18 in a couple of weeks."

"Good for him."

Jasmine ignored your comment and turned to face you, cheekbones glossy from the heat of the sun, “His Uncle owns a cabin up in Ivywood.”

You nod, thinking of the small town a couple of hours from where you lived. You had spent a few odd summers there, it was beautiful and popular with campers.

“He says it’s right near the lake.”

“Lucky him.”

“He’s going to throw a party - a small get together - to celebrate, he wants you to come.”

“He wants me to come or you want me to come?”

Jasmine rises to her elbows, brows furrowed in distaste. “Y/N! I don’t get why you don’t like him?”

You sigh slightly, the truth was there wasn't much wrong with Greg, sure he was a bit arrogant, but he was harmless. Jasmine was far too good for him, and you found his failure to realise that irritating.

“It’s not that I don’t like him - it’s just I doubt I'd bring much to the party.”

“Well, it’s not like you’d be spending the weekend alone. There will be other people!”

“Like who?”

“Well, I'm not exactly sure on the numbers, but his Uncle says he can have it for the weekend! So it’ll probably be me, Greg obviously, Josh, Laura, Ashley, Mike and then you and Ren!”

You nod along recognising a few of Greg's best friends and fellow teammates but fall short at the last name.

“Ren?”

A smug smile grazes the corner of Jasmine's lips, “Oh yeah, I haven’t told you! Ren is Greg’s cousin, I told him all about you -”

“You told him about me?” You screech, shaking your head in disbelief, one of Jasmine's favourite hobbies was trying to set you up, usually with guys you had nothing in common with.

“Duh! You’re my best friend! It was only good things I promise!”

“Jesus Jasmine.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead and gazing out into the distance, partially hoping the ground would swallow you up.

“Cmon, Y/N.” Jasmine murmurs, crawling towards you, her voice soft. “You’ve had a really hard time..” she glances quickly at the fading bruise below your eye, now a muted grey colour. “-and I thought that maybe it would cheer you up!”

“I'm really not interested.”

“You always turn down the boys I suggest! Do you want to be single forever?”

A certain face flickers in your mind momentarily, but you blink, forcing it out of your head.

“He’s really nice. But even if you hate him, it doesn't matter! Imagine a weekend away, swimming in a lake, roasting marshmallows and just relaxing! Just think about it at least!” She holds out her hands and tilts her head, reminding you of a dog wanting to be thrown a ball.

“Fine. I’ll think about it! No promises!”

Jasmine squeals engulfing you in a hug, the scent of stale smoke and fruity perfume surrounding you both as she presses a kiss to your cheek. You settle backwards, gazing out into the distant town, rose-tinted from your glasses, memories of the past few months clambering over your brain. Who knows, maybe a weekend away could be fun?

Now

You pace around Rebekah’s spacious bedroom, bare feet padding against her luxurious fur rugs as you cradle a mug of steaming coffee. The faint lull of the radio is floating through the air and a few of her expensive candles are lit, making the air smell of sage and sea salt. The blonde is staring at you in anticipation, eyes wide like a tiger ready to strike.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” You ask, taking a sip of your syrupy brew, pretending you don't know whats coming.

She sighs dramatically, “Do I have to spell it out for you? What happened between you and my brother?”

You shrug, slouching onto her armchair and folding your legs. “Nothing, we talked - that's all.”

“Bullshit!”

You trace your finger along a drip of coffee trailing the side of the mug, watching Rebekah in the corner of your eye striking her hands on her hips, prodding you for more.

“We just.. talked. I mean you couldn’t even call it that, he’s not exactly happy to be speaking to me at the moment.”

She quirks a brow and tilts her head, watching you in a sceptical manner. You felt slightly bad lying to her, but whatever was happening between you and Klaus felt so private. Your relationship always had done. To onlookers it probably seemed beyond puzzling, you were destined to get hurt the minute you became involved, but nobody understood the connection you had - as cliche as it sounded. But now, things were different, the past two years had changed both of you, and you couldn't erase the past. You were handling him like a glass ball, determined not to shatter his fragile state.

"Oh sure. I bet you both had a lovely civil conversation, that sounds about right. "

You take a slurp of coffee, nodding along to Rebekah's story nonchalantly, but the blonde isn't taking the bait.

"Y/N! You were kidnapped! You practically vanished into thin air, Klaus went bloody mental. I haven't seen him act that psychotic since.." her voice trails off momentarily, eyes darting to yours before she falters and smooths out her dress. "Look never mind, but seriously, you can't possibly be telling me that he didn't go berserk when he found you? He used to try and stop you leaving the house to buy milk for Christ's sake. "

You snort remembering Klaus' overprotective melodramatics as you lean back against the plush furniture. You exhale loudly and push yourself up to Rebekah’s line of sight. “I'm not denying he went mad - he almost killed Damon.”

“He had it coming.” The blonde scoffed, venom in her voice. “You both must have been in quite a hurry to leave, I mean, you left behind your daylight ring. You never go anywhere without it.”

You trace the band around your finger, the weight of it comforting you. One of Klaus’ men had returned it to you this morning, you had no clue how he had acquired it but you weren't complaining. Leaning forward, you plucked at a feather sprouting from Rebekah’s pillow and rolled it between your fingertips.

“That girl... Elena.” You test the name on your tongue, watching as Rebekah's head momentarily picks up, a look of distaste on her crimson lips. “She said that Klaus wanted to hurt her and her friends.”

“Would that be so bad?” Rebekah asks, leaning forward and applying a coat of mascara to her full lashes, “The girl is a whiny bitch.”

You tut slightly, humoured at her annoyance. “What’s going on with these people? What has Klaus done?”

Rebekah places her mascara tube down, eyeing herself in her rose gold mirror as she runs her fingers over flyaway tresses sprouting from her hairline. “Katerina.”

You pause for a moment, the name is familiar but you can’t exactly place it. You squint, trying to focus as a thought pops into your mind. “Katerina? As in…“

“Crazy, psychotic Katerina who ruined Klaus’ plan and spent 500 years running from him? Yeah, Elena is her doppelgänger.”

You let out a low whistle, it feels strange being able to put a face to a name; well almost. You had once heard the brothers discussing a woman called Katherine, whispering in hushed tones about where she might be hiding. You had later managed to pry it out of Klaus - by sitting on his chest until he gave in - and he spun you a tale about a moonstone she had once run with.

“So - Klaus is extracting revenge on Elena because he can't get at Katherine?”

Rebekah snorts, “Something like that, another Petrova doppelganger…”

“Equals another shot at breaking the curse.”

“Bingo.” Rebekah finishes, turning to face you.

“So, Klaus is going to sacrifice the girl?”

The blonde meets your eye line momentarily, before smacking her lips and shrugging her shoulders. She clasps her hands together, delighted at how she has pulled herself together, “Shall we go and have some lunch? I bet its a relief to not be cooped up in that room.”

“Bekah..”

“Y/N.”

You roll onto your back, mumbling in contempt, frustrated at how much people pick and chose to tell you. It was exasperating that you were expected to stay in Mystic Falls without knowing what was going on around you.

“Look, I wish I could tell you but I hardly know myself. You know as well as I do that Klaus does whatever the bloody hell he wants, and I’m sure he doesn't want you involved and I don’t particularly feel like being in a coffin again.”

“How can he not want me involved but yet keep me here without so much as a conversation?”

Rebekah shoots you a sympathetic look, perching on the edge of her bed and offering a thin smile. You assume you aren't going to get much more out of her about Elena and the curse, and you try to act nonchalant as a particular question bubbles at the edge your lips.

“What about that other girl…” You pause, tapping slightly on the ceramic mug pretending to conjure her name as if it hadn't been at the tip of your tongue for hours. “…Caroline.”

“Oh, Caroline.” Rebekah tightens the strap of her stiletto heel, taking a cautious first step before steadying herself. “The blonde bimbo. She’s newly turned but she's harmless, more or less.” You raise a brow, egging her for more information, “She’s one of Elena’s best friends, oh so preppy and irritating, the poor little mite is terrified of me though.” She giggles and turns her head back towards you, flashing her pointed fangs and letting out a mock snarl. You laugh softly, rolling your eyes before diverting your attention back towards a loose thread on a plump pillow, mind whirring slightly, what she said shouldn't bother you, but it did.

“Whats the matter with you?” Bekah asks from the corner of the room, adjusting her belt and shooting you a quizzical look.  You wave a hand casually and take a sip, trying to mask your feelings. “It's rather hilarious to see her around me, I remember at the ball…”

She falters, spinning around as if on autopilot. Her azure eyes meeting yours, her brows furrowed in question. “The ball.” She finishes, murmuring to herself, you could almost see the gears turning in her brain as she pursed her red lips. “Klaus left so suddenly - ” Her face is sympathetic, eyes soft and kind “You saw them together didn't you?”

You exhale loudly, knocking your head back and running a palm through your hair, Rebekah’s mouth turns up slightly before spreading into a total grin. “I knew it!” Her voice is shrill and high pitched as she leaps towards you like a kitten. You stare back at her, bemused at her statement. “I knew there was a reason he left like that… Holy shit! Why didn’t you tell me?”

You push yourself off the armchair, suddenly feeling hot and overwhelmed with the situation. “I'm sorry, I was a bit busy being burnt alive by a stranger to tell you about my boyfriend dancing with another woman!”

Rebekah raises an arched brow towards you, mouth turned into a smirk. “What?” You ask feeling completely lost and bewildered at what you had gotten into.

“You said, boyfriend.”

You falter slightly, backtracking in your mind as you realise your mistake. “Yeah…  well, I meant.” You pause, exhaling loudly and flopping back into the furniture, head buried in your palms. “Shit! Fuck!”

You hear Rebekah lowly chuckle as she kneels before you, her hands are delicate as she places them over yours, folding them together in your lap. “She doesn’t mean anything to him. She's just a pawn in his game.”

“I don’t care.” You lie.

“I know. But if you did… I’d tell you that he doesn’t care about anyone, no one except you.”

You snort, “He has a funny way of showing it.”

You both still for a moment, the only noise is the trees whistling in the wind outside. Rebekah rubs comforting circles across your hands and you're so grateful for her presence. You suddenly begin feeling embarrassed, it seeps through your pores and insecurity is dripping in your mind.

“I'm being stupid.” You sniff, wiping the start of tears you had no idea were forming. “I left. It was my choice, he had a right to move on. I can't stop him.” Your voice is wavering but you remain firm.

“You still love him,” Rebekah says, its more of a statement than anything and you know its true, there's no point denying it.

“I never stopped.”

The blonde rises to her feet, mimicking your movements as you head towards the door. “Are you going to tell him?”

“No.”

“I think you should, I think you both have more to say than you realise.”

You take one step forward and then immediately move back. You purse your lips as if sucking on a lemon and point your toes as if you are going to take a leap, before pulling your leg backwards. You feel ridiculous but so many things are stopping you from moving across the hallway. The house is mostly empty, Rebekah left soon after your chat promising to catch up with you later to talk about your predicament - something you weren't looking forward to. Kol was long gone, probably off harassing an innocent civilian and you hadn't seen Klaus or Elijah since the previous day. You were used to being alone, and you found comfort in the presence of your own thoughts, the only noise being the occasional mumble from Klaus’ minions downstairs. You now had free reign of the house, but only stayed on the highest floor with the exception of Rebekah’s boudoir. You didn't feel comfortable roaming around the halls and felt safe in your own space. You couldn't risk trying the front door and even if it miraculously opened you didn't have the urge to run, there were still things to sort out here.

But here you were, stood still like a statue at the step leading to the second floor. Its large and open presence daunting but the secrets withheld behind the doors coaxing you towards them. You should feel guilty for even thinking about rummaging around someone else belongings, but you and the Mikaelsons were hardly strangers, and besides, there was only one person whose mysteries you wanted to find. You gave yourself a mini pep talk, basically telling yourself to grow some balls, as you took a feeble step forward. You smiled inwardly and curled your toes into the rug, watching as your feet carried you ahead. You slipped open the first few doors, to no avail. All were grand and extravagant, but not what you were looking for. You came to the last door, further back than the others, perched under an archway in solidarity. You scoffed at yourself, you should have chosen this one first. Even the wood was unwelcoming, a deep ebony - almost completely black, a sharp contrast to the light surrounding you.

Gingerly, you grasped the brass handle, cursing at your feebleness. You reluctantly pushed it open, listening as the door creaked in protest. Your feet prowled forward as you hit the hardwood floor and smiled to yourself at the comforting silence. You had almost expected an alarm to sound or to fall through a trap door into a lion pit, two things you wouldn't find that surprising from Klaus. You sigh as you peer around the room, a feeling anchoring in the pit of your stomach. The chamber is lavish, but not in an overwhelming way. The colours are deep and almost comforting, a mix of coppers and reds, the curtains are drawn, engulfing the room in darkness. You cautiously pace forward, taking in as much as you can manage, it smells familiar, in a way that makes your heart lurch in your chest.

The room looks entirely unlived in, the bed made and the drawers tidy and closed. The only sign that he was ever here is the lingering acrylic smell, and the art perched on the wall. You creep forward, your fingertips tracing along the edge of a mahogany dresser as you reach the edge of the large canvas.

It takes your breath away.

Once upon a time, mornings were a time for lounging in bed, covers draped over your cool form as you observed Klaus through sleepy eyes, his hands moving against his work, a small smirk on his lips when he realised he was being watched. The memory is unwelcome and you clench your fingernails into your palm to force yourself to forget, the instant pain shocking you into silence. The painting is of a forest, filled with lush trees, the bark twisted and gnarled reminding you of crashing waves against the shore. The sketch is dark and distant taking you back to a time long ago, you almost reach out and touch it, but stop yourself before your fingers disrupt the art.

Your hand brushes against an askew paintbrush sending it hurtling onto the floor, you curse lightly as you watch it roll underneath the bed. You bend down and clamber onto all fours, feeling the cool flooring under your palms. You scramble forward, heaving the great blankets grazing the ground, huffing at their excessive size in contrast to your small frame. You extend a palm, determined to find the missing apparatus before he notices its absence. You sigh as your fingers brush various specks of dust and a stray sock before you come into contact with something firm. You clasp your hands around the hard interior and tug it towards you, falling backwards into a more comfortable position. Your eyes graze over the object in question, its a kind of sketchbook bound in leather, you tease the front cover wanting desperately to prise it open but unsure of what you'll find. Its been well loved, dog-eared and creased along the dark spine. Curiosity gets the better of you and you rip apart the pages, the paper rough against your fingers.

Its a sketch of you.

You cant place the date, but your hands trace the pencil strokes, it's so similar to the first you received, capturing every essence of you, from the curve in your nose to the arch of your eyebrows. You turn the page and there's another, this one of you bundled up as you visited the beach one year, cheeks rosy and a wide smile as you stared at the open water. You flick the page, there's another, and then another. Each yellow page filled with sketches of you, all from the past, ones of you curled up reading a book, then side profile and smiling, trips from a time long passed. You feel tears trickle down your cheeks as you sniffle, a lump growing at the bottom of your throat.

You turn to the next page, and a small rectangle drops onto the floor. You unfold it slowly and realise its a map, slightly crinkled and worn with unmistakable scrawled handwriting across various regions. All sightings of you, possibilities of where you could be found. You exhale loudly as you come to terms with what you have discovered, you finger the creases in the map as you try to work out all of the words before you notice a small piece of paper sticking to the back of the journal.

You pluck it out, and your fingers trace the fine material, you know exactly what it is. Its a photo of the both of you, the only one you have. You had managed to sneakily take it of Klaus before he could protest, both of you in the reflection of a mirror. You grinning like a child at the camera, pleased with your hidden photo and Klaus in the background, attempting to control the fire roaring in the cabin you had rented for the night. You both looked so happy and utterly normal, not a care in the world as you enjoyed each others company. As soon as he heard the camera click, he pounced, demanding you tear it before you shoved it away with a laugh, distracting him and teasing him from the developing polaroid. You completely forgot about the photo that weekend, too caught up in bliss to remember where you had left it and your heart clenches as you realise he must have found it somewhere and kept it for himself.

A guttural moan escapes your lips before you can silence it, and the tears are flowing hard and fast, but before you can weep in peace the front door slams open and the house is filled with a chorus of voices. You wipe your damp face with the back of your sleeve and leap to your feet, returning everything to where you found it and leaving the room noiselessly. Avoiding all contact with people and not making a sound before you manage to lock yourself in the bathroom, running the taps to silence your deafening sniffles and looking at your weak form in the mirror. The day's events were clattering around your mind like a bowling bowl and you felt a surge of determination, you needed to see Klaus and talk to him - you needed to -

"Hey! You can't go up there!"

You turn towards the bathroom door, tuning into the voices rising from behind it. You edge forward, brows furrowed in concern before a knock jolts you from your mind.

"Y/N... It's Bonnie... I need your help."

[isakwon]

Coffee Bean Part 2

 Part 1

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Genre: Fluff with some angst

Original Gif: BlondeJongin

Summary:  It is said that the string of Fate can never be tangled, make annoying knots, or ever break. But can it be untied from one person at the end?

A/N: I know this is pretty late, this was supposed to be posted at 9 p.m. and since I went into work early, “tonight” ended up being tomorrow (today). It’s nearly 1 a.m. now, I’m listening to “The Women of Hamilton” while eating mac and cheese, ready to post this drabble. Honestly nothing satisfies me more than right now…besides sleep for my brain of course. Anyway! Please enjoy!

“Cada latido prometio, que ibas estar siempre con migo.” -Alejandro Fernandez

________

   That morning Jongin spends his time in the kitchen preparing breakfast by himself. He woke up early enough to make a traditional Korean brunch, confident from the start however midway into action he wakes Yixing up in need of his assistance. Much to his surprise, Jongin had ingredients were cluttered all atop of the counter.

  As he cleans, Yixing utters complaints through his teeth. Once the kitchen mostly cleaned up, the other gentleman greet one another the main room all in their boxers and T-shirts.

“Y/N isn’t here.” Minseok leans against the doorway sipping on a glass of juice. Sehun perks his head and ears. “But she just got here yesterday, and it’s eight a.m.”

 “I know, I just passed by the room she was sleeping in to say good morning but it was empty.”

   Y/N used to pull all nighters back in the day. Whenever the boys dropped by her condo they always find her in the same positions. Seated on her couch with a coffee and script in hand or outside admiring the sunset with just coffee.

 She loved sleep but never liked getting up before the peak of sunrise. In result for any typical night owl, her body always sprawled on her bed tangled in sheets,  wetting the pillow with fresh drool.

Kyungsoo unlocks his phone to contact her.

 She despised the sun for shining on her face through the curtains.

“She went to go see Chanyeol.” Everyone looks at Sehun whose serving food on plates. “That’s it, I bet that’s why Y/N left early. That’s the only reason.” His actions grow furiously on the rice, the clatter of bowls filling up the house. “She would rather find him than have breakfast with us after years of being overseas.”

  “Sehun, will you relax? Y/N wouldn’t be desperate enough to fly all the way here and search the whole country for one guy.”

  “Actually she did.” The boys give Baekhyun their attention hearing the bang of his mug on the table locked within strong fingers. waiting for sitting in his chair scratching the back of his ear. “She left very early while we were asleep.”

He purses his lips.

“But you were still awake to hear her leave?” Kyunsoo asks.  “No, I wasn’t awake either.” Baekhyun reminds himself of the night before, the minute before Y/N lays on the bed he held her shoulder and Y/N grabbing his fingers without turning around. ‘I had no idea’

_____

 “But you’re not mine.”

You sat at the same coffee table you and Chanyeol used to sit together. He wore a white sweater and a black hat, his ears pointed out. He gives you a smile showing a bit of his darn eye bags. The coffee cup in your hand was already half full of mocha, his didn’t move it stayed in front of you.  Chanyeol’s eyes linger the side of your face, noticing the glow flashing off your cheekbones.

  “Besides if I ever told you would it have made you panic and run?”

 Chanyeol huffs a smirk “From you Y/N, not this time.”  He lips make the shape of an upside down crescent that automatically brings a shy smile on you, your cheeks burn at the top of their bones.  “If I were to run, I wouldn’t be here asking you to say it then now would I?”

   Your hand caress atop his large hands envelope around yours. This was a huge step..

   “Can I start with the beginning? Like when I first saw you?”

  His thumb grazes yours again. “Yeah?…”

   You bit your nails, played with your hair, checked the time, and drank your coffee to calm your heart beating erratically in your chest.

  “Miss, are you waiting for someone?” You turn your head alertly to a male barista.

“Oh, actually…” You quickly scan the cafe. “I was, but I guess they forgot. Please excuse me.” You grab everything, still holding the cup. “Thank you very much uh, Lu.”

 With that you drink the last gulp of the now cold and disgustingly heavy mocha and leave the cafe with a heavy pound on your chest. You check the time again on your phone, 11:59.

  You had been there since seven in the morning, watching the street live in front of you-not much different from New York except the language of course.

 How in the world would your reunion with Chanyeol turn out? Would he even recognize you? Would you even recognize him the same? Would it be important to him?

Does he still really ‘love’ you as told last night? Would you still feel anything? If so, how is it possible?

He was your inspiration for poems. You used to dream about seeing his smile again. His sweet smile and the bags that naturally form under his eyes when he smiled. You always knew Chanyeol was adorable for a grown man, but during one of your conversations his eye bags leveled up his cuteness. You swore it made you tear up.

“Ah Chan!” You comb your hair back running your fingers through. You try clenching your jaw to avoid it, yet a pool of tears form in your eyes.

“How many memories of us are going to run through my mind? That’s all we’ve become…memories.” You swallow the suffering pain in your throat.

 “Now you probably forgot giving me your word. Most likely in love with your wife… and you probably forgot about me.”    

 ______

 He stood in the sunlight dressed in his dark violet polo shirt tucked in slim around his waist.  “No, no, no my father-in-law wants the array of breakfast pastries outside the door once he settles our meeting not before it begins.”  

He trots in the hallway gluing his ear to his phone.  “Also he says leave the cream cheese off the chive omelets and replace them with the mini crab cakes. Please do not mess this up. Thank you.”

  His father-in-law was perfectionist needing whatever he wants to meet his high standards.

  Chanyeol inserts his hands in his pockets looking around the campus out the window. Even with this two hour meeting scheduled, he would still be able to stop by that cafe ordering an Iced Americano and any bread he wanted. He doubt time would allow him to sit next to the windows to just relax and think.

  He sees the body of his father-in-law and his daughter standing at the other end of the room and he greets them, bowing his head smiling. Chanyeol was used to being without the ring most of the time he absent mindedly let his father in law spy on his hands laying them on the table.

  “Yeol, you still haven’t found your ring?”

    Chanyeol whips his eyes to his bare fingers letting his mouth hang open.

The answer escapes his lips in a stutter.

“I did sir yesterday. I placed it on table next to my side before going bed it’s still at home on my bedside table.”

“A married couple should always wear their bands on their hands. It’s a requirement not an option.” He can only make a few glances at the man in front of him, feeling the fiery eye contact brazing against him. Chanyeol lays his hands on his legs, balling his fingers in his palms.  

“Yes sir.”

“You know how much my daughter means to us. As man and wife she’d like to match everything with you starting off with rings. You’re a charming man Mr.Park.”

  Chanyeol nods, pursing his lips together. “Thank you sir.”

   The space between them is thick, Chanyeol’s hands grip the edge of his seat, shudders race under his skin

“Ladies offering their hearts to you doesn’t surprise me, unless you were married.”

He perks his head up, “I am Sir to Somil.”

    The man pushes his a mug towards his son in law.

 “Somil tells me you two haven’t had any sort of connection. Did you two have another fight?” He leans his chin against his fingers. “Is there someone secret on either side?”

  The contact burns enough scorching the pain twice as much in Chanyeol’s chest. His eyes widen at realization of the last question, “No sir, no one at all.”

  He nods. “We expect nothing but the best for my soft cloud’s marriage survive with a husband like you.” Chanyeol sharply inhales, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

“And Somil shall have it Sir.”

Those were the exact words he had given to his wife and her family the day he signed the license.

  “A smart lad since the start.Drink some water, you look like your getting your nerves up.”  

____

Later that night…

 Chanyeol looks through multiple drawers. His fingers had been without that ring for forever, it was barely ever seen. He lost his wedding band somewhere around the house months into his marriage once he removed it.

   That string he made years back never left its place, no one ever asked about it. The string with the two beads and the brightest red he saw when he pulled it out the rainbow of other yarn.

  His string he keeps around the strap of his book bag.

   The color remained as brand new in the lighting in his house it looked brand new on his finger like the very first time she tied it on him. While tying hers on her finger, he remembers the shy grin on her face as her cheeks burned, with the way her teeth sank in her bottom lip.

  Looking through the letters his shoe box, Chanyeol whips out his phone that ringed from his blazer’s pocket. His screen flashes a box on his wallpaper.

7:51 Text Message: 

Chan…

He punches the keyboard under the text bubble.

 7:51 p.m. Text Message: 

What’s up Lay?

[calciseptinefic]

stay (it doesn’t have to hurt)

Gravity Falls || Stanford Pines/Stanley Pines || Part One notes: Written for Summer of Stancest. All my love to Blue, who organized this event, gave me encouragement, and was over-all an amazing human being. ♥ ¶ also available on AO3 warnings: mentions of blood and poverty as a theme

.

The motel television has nine channels and, as he has every day since he arrived in New Mexico, Stan spends his day mindlessly switching back and forth between them. Images shift. Noise fluctuates. It helps him ignore the gnaw of hunger in his belly and the squeeze of anxiety around his lungs. There is no remote. Any time a program becomes unbearable, Stan has to get up and manually change the station.

It does little to ease the restlessness in his stagnant bones.

Eventually—when the heat of the day dissipates into evening, and the setting sun illuminates Stan's room in red—Stan gives up the distraction. He switches the television off and plops back down on the sagging edge of his mattress.

Stares at the matted shag carpet.

Runs a hand over his uncombed, sweat-damp hair.

Sighs softly and—

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Stan's head jerks up. His heart begins to race.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Stan can only think of two people who would visit him at this hour. The first is the owner of the motel, a skeletal man with beady eyes and a bald head. The second is Rico, a man from whom Stan unwisely borrowed money.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

In the sinking pit of his stomach, Stan knows it must be Rico. The motel owner already came by that morning, asking after overdue rent and threatening to get the police involved. All Stan had was a wrinkled five dollar bill, which he handed over; the other man sneered at the last of Stan's money and spat tobacco on the concrete near Stan's feet.

"Ain't worth the phone call," he said before he stalked off.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Just give me a few more days, Rico!" Stan shouts as he grabs the baseball bat lying next to his bed. He immediately chokes up on the wooden handle, his knuckles white and bloodless. "I'll pay your goons back, I swear!"

Stan has said the same thing for the past three months. He was lucky, last time, to be sent home with nothing more than a pair of black eyes and a five thousand dollar deadline. He knows he won't be shown the same generosity this time around, but if Rico and his lackeys are expecting him to go down without a fight, they are in for a very rude awakening.

A second passes.

Two.

Yet instead of the telltale sound of the door being kicked in, there is the simple, metallic whisper of the mail slot. A single piece of cardstock falls to the floor. It seems innocuous, but Stan has been on the wrong side of business long enough to know that a bullet may follow.

A minute passes.

Two.

With the bat clutched in one hand, Stan gets up and creeps towards the door. He tries to keep his footsteps silent and his breathing even, but his movements seem thunderously loud in the still quiet of the room. Slowly… slowly… slowly he bends, pinches the postcard between his fingers, and—

swiftly and without finesse—

Stan sprints back to the safety of his unmade bed.

When nothing continues to happen, Stan inhales deeply and lets go of the tension in his shoulders. Then he looks at the postcard. The front is a generic picture of a forest, coniferous and verdant, complete with a perfect blue sky and a waterfall. The center of the card is dominated by a bold font that entreats:

VISIT SCENIC GRAVITY FALLS OREGON

Stan raises an eyebrow. He's been to all forty-eight contiguous states, seven Canadian provinces, and every country between Mexico and Columbia, but he's never heard of a place called Gravity Falls. It's probably some small, backwater podunk, he deduces before he flips it over. Who the hell—

PLEASE COME!!!, the postcard reads

- FORD, the postcard is signed.

A storm of emotions travels through Stan at the sight of those three words, hastily written and underscored thrice. Rage is the easiest to recognize because of course Ford contacts him when he's in trouble. It was just like Ford to turn to Stan and expose his vulnerability when the going got tough; Stan could never say no to Ford's big blue eyes—or, in this case, his tremulous scrawl—and Ford knew it. He knew that Stan wouldn't be able to ignore a such a summons. Unconsciously or not, Ford was using the fact of Stan's loyalty to his advantage.

"Fuckin' typical," Stan spits. The postcard strains in his hands and, for a moment, Stan contemplates ripping the damn paper in half.

He doesn't.

Instead, Stan's anger dims, his grip on the postcard loosens, and worry edges in. For such a smart guy, Ford could sometimes be an unbelievable idiot, frequently letting his curiosity overrule his common sense. He was never incompetent nor was he liable to do something he didn't want to, either, so ff he needs help, and is willing to ask Stan after ten years of silence, then he's probably way in over his head.

Goddamn, Stan thinks as he reads the plea again. Ten fuckin' years.

This is sorrow. It is a heavy thing, bone-deep and pervasive, and unlike his other feelings, Stan always carries it with him. Part of it is due to the unexpected turn his life took—Stan never planned on being estranged and homeless—but a majority of it comes from losing the one thing he always thought he'd have.

The other half of him.

His brother.

Ford.

Stan exhales shakily. Rubs the damp off his skin with his callused fingertips. Looks down at the card in his hand for the thousandth time since he picked it up and traces the lines with his eyes.

P-L-E-A-S-E-C-O-M-E-!-!-! -F-O-R-D

The last thing Stan feels that night is resignation.

.

In the morning twilight, when the desert sky is a wash of pale rose and gray, Stan leaves Dead End Flats with a single suitcase full of clothes and a wooden baseball bat. Dust kicks up behind the wheels of the El Diablo, billowing up behind him like clouds. He grits his teeth at the obviousness.

An hour passes.

Stan drives with his heart in his throat. He constantly checks his rearview mirror to see if he's being followed. He is less concerned about skipping his dues on the motel owner and more concerned about Rico and his network of sour-faced lackeys.

Another hours passes.

The sun rises high enough over the horizon to turn everything yellow and brown.

Three hours later, suburbs begin to bloom in the red sand. Houses spread inward, becoming denser and denser until they rise into the city of Albuquerque. Gaudy skyscrapers made of steel and glass glitter like diamonds amid the tired landscape. Stan would be impressed if he hadn't learned to hate cities after spending a long winter dodging cops in Columbus, Ohio.

Albuquerque fades quickly.

The desert looms.

San Ysidro. La Jara. Counselor. Nageezi. Farmington.

As he nears the border between New Mexico and Arizona, Stan keeps an eye out for a medium-sized town with a gas station slash diner. He finds one right out of Shiprock, pulls in, and fills his tank among a slew of vacationing families and grizzled truckers. He brings his enormous, dog-eared road map into the diner with him, and grins when he's seated at a booth instead of the counter.

"A pot of coffee," he tells his waitress, a woman several years his senior. Her dark hair is pulled into a fraying bun and there is a huge ketchup stain along her sleeve. She keeps glancing at the toddler two booths down, a small monster who is smearing mac-n-cheese across the table. "And the number seven, and a cherry pie milkshake."

When Stan gets his double bacon burger, fries, and shake, he devours it. He hasn't eaten in nearly three days and the uncomfortable bloat of fullness is a welcome change to the scratch of emptiness.

"Check?" the waitress asks when she comes to collect his plate.

"More coffee, please," Stan replies, gesturing to the road map opened in front of him. "Need to decide where to go next."

Her returning nod is harried and her eyes remain on the toddler. The unruly child has recently graduated from wiping his food on the table to throwing handfuls on the floor and giggling.

It doesn't take Stan long to map out the next leg of his journey. The quickest route to Oregon is to take U.S. Route 191 through Utah, but in order reach said route, Stan needs to either continue west into Arizona or head north into Colorado. The problem arises from the fact that Stan has outstanding arrest warrants in both states. The Arizona detour is shorter, but the charges—

Two booths down, the waitress tries to tell the toddler's parents to control their son's behavior. The father does not take this well and begins to shout.

That's my cue, Stan thinks.

And as the rest of the diner turns to watch the waitress and the father get into a screaming match about appropriate child care, Stan drains the last of his coffee, rolls up his travel atlas, and walks out the front door without spending a dime.

.

Stan heads west into Arizona and spends fifty uncomfortable minutes on Route 64. He passes Teec Nos Pos then turns north at Red Mesa. By the time he crosses the Utah border, he has seen a grand total of seven other cars.

Bluff. Monticello. Moab. Price.

Utah is made of the same red-brown dirt and pale green scrub that is present in New Mexico, and after twelve hours on the road, Stan isn't paying as much attention to the road as he should be. This is why he panics when a mule deer appears suddenly in front of him; he inhales sharply, slams on the breaks, and knocks his nose hard against the leather steering wheel.

"Shit!" Stan curses loudly, clutching his face. Unhurt, the deer prances off. "Shit—fuck—ow, ow, ow!"

Blood leaks warm onto Stan's hand as he pulls over onto the gravel shoulder and parks. He reaches blindly into the back seat, grabs the first thing that feels like a t-shirt, and waits for the bleeding to stop. It takes several minutes. The numbing flush of adrenaline wears off before Stan pulls the worn cotton away.

"Goddamnit," Stan curses when he sees that he managed to grab his last good button down. Blood blooms vivid across a stretch of pale blue, like the desert sun setting west on the winter horizon, and not all of it was captured. Stan's hand is smeared pink and huge drops fell on his t-shirt, where his belly swells fat beneath the fabric. "God fuckin' damn it."

Stan's only stroke of luck is that his nose is not broken. It's tender, so much so that he hisses as he gingerly taps the bridge, but he knows this from vast experience that the bone is intact.

Once Stan cleans as much of his blood up as he can, he gets out of the car and pulls his shirt over his head. It is colder than he expects. The chill hits him hard and his teeth immediately begin to chatter. It's pathetic for a man who was New Jersey born and bred, but Stan has spent the last four years in the deep south and beyond; even in the middle of winter, it was an easy fifty degrees in New Mexico.

Utah is much colder.

Stan quickly stashes his bloodied shirts in the trunk, then grabs his suitcase out of the backseat. There is nothing warm inside. Stan curses as he grabs his least stained article of clothing, a once white shirt that's gray with age and yellow under the pits. It smells like aged leather and stale sweat. Unpleasant. He pulls it over his head. Ignores the stench. Gets back in the El Diablo and cranks up the heat. Stan shivers. It is only going to get colder the further north he goes and he doesn't have a coat, or gloves, or a hat.

Or money.

He looks up at the picture of Ford he keeps above him. Ford smiles so hard it is nearly a grimace and Stan beams. Stan remembers how Ford felt tucked against his side, warm and pliant, both when the picture was taken and later that night when Ford crept into the bottom bunk.

Stan sighs.

"The things I do for you, Sixer," he mutters, and gets back on the road.

.

Colton. Soldier Summit. Tucker.

Mapleton. Springville.

Provo. Orem. Pleasant Grove.

Salt Lake City.

Stan stops as at every gas station he sees. His tank is running towards low, but he never fuels up. Instead, he scrounges for fallen change: for pennies turned black, for scratched nickels, for thin dimes worn flat, for rare and defaced quarters. He hates the pitying looks he gets when he scavenges and ignores them the best he can, hunched against the deepening cold.

Woods Cross. Bountiful. Centerville.

Another Farmington.

Kaysville. Layton. Clearfield. Roy.

Stan's pockets are full and the El Diablo is empty when he pulls into the parking lot of a darkened thrift store. It's midnight. His eyes itch. He's hungry. He's thirsty. He's cold. He grabs the remaining clothes out of his suitcase and piles them atop his body in an attempt to shield himself from the night. He thinks, This ain't got nothin' on Ohio, and pushes his seat back as far as it will go.

Closes his eyes.

And sleeps fitfully till the morning sun breaks white and weak over the pavement.

.

Stan has been to hundreds of thrift shops in the past ten years and he has never understood how they can all smell the same. Like a pair of old shoes and an abandoned house and musty clothes, faint and all at once, familiarity edged with disquiet.

He hates it.

Walking through the racks, Stan searches for the heaviest coat he can find. The best options are long gone, however, picked out before winter could reach its brutal peak, and Stan ends up with three hangers. The first is a heavy leather bomber with no visible tears and a soft collar; the second is a wool peacoat that falls to his knees; and the third is a red parka lined with synthetic fur.

Stan tries the peacoat on first. It's a size too small, unable to stretch over his shoulders and the thickness of his waist, and the fabric smells like spoiled milk. Stan wrinkles his nose as he takes it off and puts it back on the hanger. The peacoat is a definite no.

Next, Stan tries on the leather jacket. It fits well. Really well. So well that Stan takes a peek at himself in the dingy mirror at the end of the makeshift aisle. He looks big, yes, but in a good way: brawny instead of fat, rugged instead of homeless, nineteen instead of thirty-one. Unfortunately, Stan's vanity cannot give the leather jacket another layer of needed insulation, nor can it lower the price tag that reflects its good condition. So he sighs, takes it off, and ignores the sting of want.

The last coat is Stan's best option. It's heavy, it has a hood, and there aren't any rips or thin patches of fabric. The zipper pulls up smoothly. Indeed, the only detriments are the motor oil stains on the shoulder, sleeve, and hem, but the faint scent of detergent Stan smells means that the parka was obviously washed before being donated.

Stan hasn't done laundry in months.

Decided, Stan then searches the store for some gloves. He can't find any. Instead, he finds a hat and a matching pair of mittens; all three pieces are dark and smell like damp, but Stan needs them. The El Diablo's heat can be intermittent in the extreme cold—often not working at all—and it hurts Stan's hands to hold a frozen leather steering for long periods of time.

"Better than nothin'," Stan tells himself before he scoops up the hat and mittens and heads up to the front of the store. He goes to the only cashier working, a reedy teenage boy with a thin face, a thin mouth, and a thin mustache. Skinny doesn't greet him, merely begins to punch in the prices after Stan sets his stuff down.

"Seven fifty," he intones when he's finished bundling everything into a plastic shopper.

Stan digs in his pockets. Dumps all his dirty change on the counter. Skinny exhales through his nose in irritation at the small pile, but says nothing as he sorts the coins and adds them to his till: quarters first, then dimes, then nickels, then pennies.

"You owe forty-three cents," Skinny says.

Stan is too tired to argue. Too tired to be sarcastic. He just shrugs and says, "S'all I got, kiddo."

For the first time since Stan walked up, the teenager lifts his gaze from the counter and looks at Stan. Stan has no illusions about what the kid sees. He's a fat, middle-aged man with an uncombed mullet, bags under his eyes, and a gross t-shirt. Skinny probably sees someone like Stan every time he works. Sees the symptoms of poverty—the weary slump, the flat eyes, the resignation—

Skinny closes the drawer and hands Stan his purchases.

"Have a good day," Skinny says.

"Yeah," Stan gruffs. "You too."

.

Stan dons his new coat in the parking lot. Tosses the hat and mittens onto the passenger seat. Starts the El Diablo and freezes when it takes a moment for the engine to respond. Thanks a god he never believed in when a familiar rumble fills his ears.

"Halfway there," Stan tells the dashboard. "Just one more day."

The fuel gauge sits dangerously low until Stan can find a small, slow gas station at the edge of town. The attendant manning the till inside looks up and waves. Stan returns the gesture with a smile before he fills his tank.

Stan looks up. The attendant waves again. Stan smiles again even as unease begins to prickle beneath his skin. He needs the attendant to be distracted so he can drive away without the police being called or his license plate number being taken down. Thankfully, most people are easily bored, and Stan only needs to spend a few minutes cleaning out his car for the attendant's attention to turn elsewhere.

Ha! Stan crows silently as he slips into his car. Gotcha!

And a minute later, when the attendant looks up from her big book of crosswords, the only thing left outside will be a bin full of garbage.

.

Willard. Brigham City. Tremonton.

The earth turns tan. Naked aspens and thin pines sprout out of the ground between knee-high shrubs. Little towns with names like Blue Creek and Snowville pop up and disappear faster than Stan can blink.

Less than two hours after Stan has left Ogden, he crosses the border into Idaho.

Juniper. Sublett. Cotterel. Burley.

By the time Stan hits Twin Falls, the temperate drops below freezing.

King Hill. Chalk Cut.

Mountain Home.

Mayfield.

By the time Stan hits Boise, he sees snow for the first time in years. The heat of the desert has softened his remembrance of it, made him forget how deceiving it was, how pervasive. White flakes falls from an unchanging gray sky and build on the black pavement of western-winding interstate. He skids twice on unseen ice and nearly ends up in a ditch before he remembers to mind his lead foot.

Nampa. Caldwell.

Then a green sign says in white: Welcome to Oregon.

.

Vale.

The towns begin to shrink—the towns begin to s t r e t c h—

Harper.

The towns begin to hide behind the boughs of dense conifers—to peek through the skeletal branches of sleeping deciduous trees—

Juntura.

The towns begin to whisper secrets in the stillness—

.

WELCOME TO GRAVITY FALLS

.

part two

.

[hvadfucken]

ask meme

i was tagged by the very angry @exemplarybehaviour que todavía no me ha bloqueado por alguna razón

Rules: post the rules, answer 11 questions, make up 11 new questions and tag 11 people.

1. Favorite terrible movie and why?

Pacific Rim. The story makes no sense realistically. Giant robots make no sense. The idea that the robots and kaiju could move that fast makes no sense. Scientifically and politically it's ??? but my god do I love watching those robots kill those kaiju

2. A funny (or interesting) travel story?

My college roommate, me, and a mutual friend all went to Seattle like a year ago. Great trip. We accidentally booked a shitty hotel in a prostitute area. My roommate was trying to say the hotel was great. The maids left food from previous guests in the drawers and they didn't leave any utensils except for one spoon in the kitchenette.

Anyway, this was about 1.5-2 months after my bariatric surgery. My stomach is still not quite healed so I need soft food. I'm starving and all there is is street food. I see a gyro stand. Gyro meat is soft, that's perfect! I buy one. I eat some of it. It's heavy, as expected for a gyro. Mutual friend needs to use the bathroom, but McDonalds requires you buy something first. She buys me a milk. I drink some of it.

While we're waiting for the bus, suddenly we hear this thud and a screeching noise. There's a bag full of stuff that's now strewn all over the street. My roommate panicks, thinking the bus just hit someone. Turns out the guy left his phone on the bus and threw his entire bag in front of it to stop the driver and get his phone back. It's fucking hilarious to us.

Anyway, back at the hotel. Healing stomach full of gyro meat and milk. We're recounting the bus story, and I'm laughing really hard. Too hard. With no warning, suddenly I'm vomiting milk all over myself. My friends are horrified. I think it's hilarious and laugh harder, inhaling some of it and choking a bit. I have to take a shower and change clothes while assuring them that I'm not dying, and convincing them that this is hilarious because it is.

3. Your favorite Cool Fact ™ about animals.

Ok so we all know that baby sharks eat each other during gestation. Presumably because they don't want competition and it's a food source. But that's not the only reason. The original litter is composed of sharks from different fathers. The biggest one eats all of the sharks that have different fathers from itself. It's parternity protection and means the other males just provided food for the successful one's offspring.

4. A fandom you’re embarrassed to be in, or that people might not know you’re in?

michelle we've been over this. i will take that fandom to my g r a v e.

5. Do you have any superstitions?

I had a bracelet that I considered good luck so I wore it to two exams and fucked up on both of them so I don't do that anymore.

Also I wear nice clothes and dress up on exam day because if I'm put together on the outside, maybe I will be on the inside, too.

6. Weirdest and/or most interesting member of your family?

My brother. Computational molecular biophysicist. Dual-screens Kerbal Space Program and Engineer of the People to relax after a long day at the lab. Can tell you anything about anything sciency. Also wore completely worn-out shoes for three months because he forgot he bought a new pair. On that note, he's worn through a dozen pairs of titanium-sole shoes that have lifetime warranties on the soles.

He's also a magnet for maternal women. He collects moms and grandmas. He drinks hot chocolate instead of coffee. He's allergic to cats but is going to get one anyway.

7. Something that happened to you or you witnessed on public transport?

When I was on my way to the women's march, there was one guy on the bus. A bus that, at this point, was 2/3 full, all with women clearly headed to the march. He stands up and starts loudly talking about how great Trump is. No one looks at him. He starts to stutter. Still, no reaction.

He hopped off a stop or two later, looking completely put-out that no one took the bait. I rarely tell this story because it sounds like one of those blatantly fake note-grabbing tales but I swear it happened.

8. Window seat or aisle seat? Why?

Aisle. I'm diabetic and if my blood sugar goes high I need to be able to easily get up to pee.

9. Would you rather eat mashed potatoes in a tube (”gotatoes”) or spaghetti in a tube (”spagoot chute”)?

what the fuck michelle

Also, gotatoes. Spaghetti would be really hard to effectively get out of the tube without noodles falling on your shirt. This would make more sense with macaroni and cheese where it's in easily divided bites. A mac and chunnel, if you will.

10. If there were a movie about your life, what would the trailer look like?

Probably me being distracted by cats in a variety of circumstances set to upbeat music. My life is pretty boring outside of anecdotes.

11. You get stuck in the last game you played, a la 80s nostalgia movie. What’s your life like now?

The last game I played was Sims 3 so... On one hand, it takes me like half an hour to pee. On the other hand, I can work my way from organ donor to head surgeon without ever going to college. All I have to do is play chess on the computer.

New questions:

1. What's your favorite form of potato? 2. Least favorite Tumblr meme and why? 3. Best TMI story? 4. Favorite fact about space? 5. What's your most ridiculous cooking story? 6. Your best misunderstanding story? 7. Is cereal a soup? 8. What book/movie/tv show universe would you want to live in most? It doesn’t count if it’s basically set on normal Earth. 9. What's the worst fandom drama you have ever seen and/or participated in? 10. Would you rather visit outer space or the deep ocean? 11. You can instantly become fluent in two other languages. Which do you pick and why?

I tag uh. @lomedraug @agentblurr @iridescedsea​ and @ontopofpedestals​. that’s 11 people in ternary. it counts.

[twilight-alchemist]

Shelter

read on Ao3 http://archiveofourown.org/works/10885116/chapters/24188529

Summary: Saitama quit her training halfway through. What’s the point of great strength when she couldn’t save her family? Lost and bereft she returned to her home town to get her life back together, but that hasn’t been going so well. Every day is just like the last until a fiery comet crashes behind her house and she meets Genos, an alien cyborg trying to find the monster that murdered her family. Domestic gay nonsense ensues.

Chapter 1: Stayin’ Alive

It’s quiet. It’s always quiet at night out here in the middle of nowhere, unless Rover hears something to bark at. Right now it’s just the hum of appliances and the soft sound of MTV on in the living room, since said hell hound is asleep beneath Saitama’s feet. She watches his feet wiggle as he dreams and absentmindedly reaches down to rub the plush fur between his ears. Saitama finds herself humming along to the music as she picks at her food. Her appetite hasn’t gotten itself together yet today, and box mac and cheese is doing nothing to perk up her listless stomach. She hates to waste food though. Grumbling, she manages to get down a few more bites before she scrapes the rest of the sad cheese goo into the trash and tosses the bowl towards the sink. It bounces of the pile of dishes in the sink and flops onto the counter. She lingers a moment staring at the sink full of dirty dishes, feeling guilty it’s not clean, but not guilty enough to do the dishes just yet. A problem for the Saitama of tomorrow.

She moves into the living room to flick the TV off. The silence is immediately suffocating, and she darts back into the kitchen to turn on the radio. Spirit in the Sky is playing, and she fiddles with the antenna to lessen the static. Rover grumbles in his sleep and rolls over onto his back, sleeping like a starfish. The song plays on and she finds herself singing along.

“Going up to the spirit in the sky, that’s where I’m gonna go when I die. When I die and they lay me to rest, gonna go to the place that’s the best.” A memory surfaces unbidden, of giggles and weed smoke and late nights listening to the radio. She’s sitting next to Theo on their beat up couch and he is smiling so wide, laughing as he sings along to the radio. He’s horribly off key and missing words but his eyes are sparkling with joy. Ace is laughing where he’s sitting on the floor of their flat, singing along as the chorus. Their ruckus has drowned out the surrounding noise of the city, and it feels like they are the only people in the world. It feels like home. The sadness rises up in her so fast she feels like she might choke, and she turns the radio off. It takes her a few moments to realize she’s gripping the kitchen counter so hard that her knuckles have turned white. She counts the pink flowers on her kitchen wallpaper as she packs the sadness away, shoves it back down to some forgotten place inside herself. Reminds herself to breath, in and out, in and out. She lets go of the counter and pointedly ignores the fact that she’s bent the counter top. The phone ringing startles her so bad that she almost falls on the floor. Swearing under her breath she darts over to the phone and picks up.

“Hello?”

“Saitama! I haven’t seen you in town all week and you haven’t called me or answered your phone, are you doing okay?” It’s Mumen. Saitama winces at her tone; she’s in trouble.

“I’m alright Mumen, I’m just… tired. Sorry I haven’t called.” Sai winds the phone cord around her hand and fidgets with it. She wants so badly to confide in Mumen, to tell her she’s not okay, but that would mean making Mumen worry, and her friend has enough on her plate as it is. A half-lie isn’t so bad, right? She really is tired after all. “I promise I’ll come by soon.” Saitama says. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I have my lunch break at 12, want to meet at the diner?”

“Sure Mumen, that sounds great.”

There’s a heavy pause, and Sai realizes belatedly that she hadn’t put any false enthusiasm into her voice. Shit.

“Saitama do you need me to come over? I can come over right now-“

“Mumen honestly I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound okay. It’s been over a year and you haven’t gotten any better. I know you want space and time to mourn but I’m worried about you. Let me help you! You can’t keep pushing everyone away.”

‘Oh yes I can’ Saitama thinks. Her depression is her problem and she’s not dragging anyone down with her, especially not someone as perfect as Mumen.

“You worry too much.” Sai says. “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

Mumen huffs out a sigh that crackles through the phone line. “Alright. Give Rover a hug for me.”

“I will.”

“Goodnight Sai.”

“Night.”

She puts the phone down on the wall with a click, resisting the urge to call Mumen back and spill her guts. It’s already 9 at night, and Mumen always goes to bed at 9. Mumen’s one of those freaky morning people.

Saitama sighs loudly and thumps her head against the wall a few times. She knows Mumen has every right to be worried. Apparently her theatrics were loud enough to rouse Rover, who had gotten up and was now scratching at the door. “Okay buddy give me a second.” Sai grabs her winter coat and shoves her feet into her worn out boots. She pushes the door open and Rover bounds out into the snow. It’s a bitterly cold night and Sai shivers despite her oversized coat. She goes about her nightly routine, checking to make sure all the animals are still warm inside the barn and refilling empty water buckets. She tosses her girls some extra hay because they give her the puppy dog eyes. Sai’s always weak to the puppy dog eyes, and her animals know it. She steps out of the barn and glances over at the garden. She hasn’t spoken to them yet today, and knows she won’t sleep well if she doesn’t. Not that she sleeps particularly well anyway.

There’s a large quartz stone placed in the center of the snow covered garden. She’d found it in the woods a year ago and placed it here as a memorial of sorts. Her friend’s graves are far away from here, but she feels as though this is where they truly rest.

“Hey Theo, that song you used to love was just on the radio. I know you loved that song in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way because you thought Jesus loving you would upset the homophobes, but I really do hope you’re up there in the sky living it up with the big guy just to prove those fuckers wrong.” Sai lifts her head up to the sky and takes in the myriad of stars above her. “Ace you’d love the stars tonight. I can see Sirius, and Rigel, and Polaris.” She sighs deeply, as though she could push out her sadness within her breath.

“I know there’s more stars that you showed me but I can’t remember. I’m getting rusty without you here always waxing poetic about the sky.” For a while she just gazes upward, taking in the cosmos above her. The stars used to make her feel alive, but now all she feels is cold.

“I miss you guys so much. I miss you both so much.”

The sound of Rover barking his head off startles her out of her reverie.

“Rover what the hell.” Saitama mumbles as she jogs around the side of the house to where her dog is going bananas. When she sees what Rover barking at, she freezes on the spot, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. There’s a comet falling across the sky. A HUGE comet. It’s almost blindingly to look at in the darkness, bright and fiery like the sun itself is falling to the earth. She watches as the comet burns across the sky and gasps in frozen air as she suddenly remembers to breathe. The comet sails far overhead and crashes with a sound like a train collision somewhere way back in the forest behind her property.

“Holy shit.”

Rover has stopped barking but his black fur is all puffed up in agitation, making him look ridiculous. Sai considers going out in the woods to see if she can find the meteor, but it’s cold as balls and she’s tired. Maybe in the morning. She gives one last look out at the dark forest, before Saitama drags Rover back inside and heads up to her bedroom.

She can’t sleep. All she can think of is the comet. Is it a meteor? What if its aliens? She scolds herself for being silly. ‘I’ve been watching too much Star Wars’ she thinks to herself. What if it was some kind of satellite? That seemed a lot more plausible, but that could lead to trouble. What if someone comes looking for it? That’d be a pain in the butt. She sighs and stretches, pushing Rover over a few inches where he’s being a bed hog. It’s just a stupid space rock. No big deal. Go to sleep.

She wishes Ace and Theo were there with her so they could be excited together. The longing curls around her heart and squeezes tightly.

Two hours of staring at the ceiling later Saitama gets up. She grabs the bong off her dresser and lights the bowl, inhaling. Holds the smoke in her lungs, exhales, coughs. Rinse wash repeat until her head is foggy and she’s bone tired. She crawls back into bed and promptly passes out.

Saitama jerks awake at 11, remembers she has lunch at 12 with Mumen, and panics. She’d slept straight through her alarm. She throws the covers off, gets dressed faster than she has in months, and rushes through her morning routine. Feed the animals, open up the barn, get off her smelly barn clothes, shower, put on nice not smelly clothes, get in the freezing car. Her old truck starts on the first try and Saitama counts that as a small blessing. It takes her 15 minutes to get into town and its 11:50, so she’s only going to be 5 minutes late.

Saitama stumbles into the diner and Mumen greets her with raised eyebrows. “Did you just wake up?”

“’Course not.” Sai says. Her body betrays her and she yawns.

“You’re a terrible lair.” Mumen says, but she’s grinning regardless. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” Saitama flops down into the booth and steals a sip of Mumen’s coffee, which she immediately regrets. “Ugh how do you drink it black you weirdo.”

“The same way you drink it with 3 tablespoons of sugar.” Mumen looks over as the door opens with a jingle. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited King.”

“Of course not.” Saitama says, turning to wave as King comes in.

King sits next to Saitama and sighs. “Sai, what on earth are you wearing.”

“Neon is in King. Everyone knows that.” Sai says.

“Well my eyes are melting.” She deadpans. “Also those patterns together are awful.”

“Shut up Ms. Farah Fawcett hair. Your mom jeans suck.”

King suddenly tenses as though she remembered something, and leans over the table conspiringly. “Did ya’ll see that fireball in the sky last night?”

“Yeah it came right over the farm.” Saitama says. “What do you think it was?”

“Just a meteor of course.” Mumen says.

“I don’t think so, I think it might be some Russian satellite.” King says in a stage whisper. “I told pa about it and he called the government and everything.”

“King, your dad is paranoid, and you worry too much. Stuff with Russia is still a mess but it’s more deescalated right now. You don’t have to be so anxious about it anymore.” Sai says as she pokes through the menu.

“Do you think they’ll send anyone?” Mumen asks.

“Who?” King says, engrossed in the menu. Saitama doesn’t know why any of them bother to read the menu. This diner has been exactly the same since they were all small enough to fit on one side of the booth together. They’ve all memorized the ancient menu. That’s what happens when you live in a town with only a diner and a dive bar.

“The government.” Mumen clarifies.

“Oh, I don’t know.” King says. She’s fussing with her hair, which means she’s nervous. “Nothing ever really happens here and I like it that way, so I hope not.”

“You’ve got that right.” Sai huffs. “This is the most boring town in the world. I told myself I’d never come back here, yet look where I am. You two are the only good things I’ve got in this godforsaken town.”

“I’m touched.” King says as she puts her menu down.

“Why don’t you start martial arts with Bang again?” Mumen says. “You used to be one of her top students.”

“I don’t know.” Sai says. She could say she doesn’t have the time, but that’s a lie. She just doesn’t care about anything anymore like she used to. It’s so much effort and energy she doesn’t have, for so little reward. She has to focus what energy she has on her animals, and lambing season is coming up soon.

Mumen smacks her menu down on the table, startling King half to death and making Saitama jump. “Let’s go to the disco this Friday night.” Mumen says. “You used to love that.”

Saitama wants to say no, but her two best friends are giving her the puppy dog eyes and she realizes she never really stood a chance. “Okay.”

Their matching smiles makes her want to try. She can pull herself together for their sakes. It’s just one night right?

Someone clears their throat, and the three of them look up to see their waiter staring at them.

“Good afternoon Lilly.” Mumen chirps amicably. “Where’s Fubuki?’

“Town Hall. We aren’t always glued at the hip you know.” Lilly replies.

All Lilly gets in response is three sets of disbelieving expressions, and he sputters. “Anyway what can I get you girls?”

“I’ll have the Cobb salad please.” Mumen says while cleaning her glasses.

“Disco fries.” Saitama says. “Oh, and green tea.”

“What about you King?” Lilly asks, reaching across to grab their menus.

King fakes contemplation as she settles herself enough to order. Speaking has never been her strong suit. “Chocolate chip pancakes and a vanilla milkshake.”

“You got it.” Lilly says, making his way to the kitchen.

Mumen is giving King a look. “King that’s so much sugar.”

King just shrugs, and Saitama tries to not be jealous of the way her hair flows as she moves. Saitama can never get her hair to cooperate, and it just seems to stick every which way.

“Mumen we are 25, we can eat what we want.” Sai says. “It’s not our fault you already eat like a suburban mother of 2.”

Mumen grumbles something about fiber and protein and daily sugar allowances, but lets it slide. They fall into comfortable silence for a while as Mumen sips her coffee. “So how are things at the station?” Saitama asks.

“Same as always.” Mumen says, moving to fix the cuffs on her uniform. “Got the Smith’s cat out of a tree yesterday, and the day before that I caught some kids spray painting on the side of the library and brought them in. They’ll probably just get community service.”

“What’d they spray paint?” King asks.

“It was inappropriate.” Mumen sighs.

King and Saitama share a look and nod; it was definitely dicks.

“Is the chief letting you respond to calls yet?” Sai asked. Mumen seemed to deflate a little at the question, but bounces back quickly.

“No. I’m happy to be out of the office at last but he still only lets me patrol. Even though I graduated with top marks at the police academy he still thinks I need to be protected. I want to be out there with the boys protecting people and upholding justice.”

“Fuck the patriarchy.” Saitama says.

“Don’t curse!” Mumen says. “… but screw the patriarchy.”

“You’ll get there someday Mumen. You’ve come this far after all.” King says.

“Thanks King. You two have always believed I could do this even when no one else did, and it means a lot.” Mumen says.

Saitama realizes this is supposed to be a deep moment between friends, but she doesn’t know what to say in response. She just gives Mumen a thumbs up.

Lilly returns with their drinks and they gossip a little, about who’s been seen with who and what recent scandals have unfolded. Lilly always knows all the juicy bits. More people come into the diner and Lilly has to leave to tend to them, and the conversation wanes. The silence is comfortable, and Saitama lets herself lean into King. She feels better in her friend’s company. It’s like they make her temporarily whole again, and even for just a few fleeting moments, she’s happy. She doesn’t have to pretend to smile and laugh, and while her joy is small and fluttering weakly, it’s genuine in their presence. Saitama finds herself wishing she could always have them around just so she wouldn’t have to be sad anymore. It’s a selfish wish and she scolds herself for it. Mumen and King have their own lives and don’t have time to babysit her dysfunctional ass.

Lilly gets a hero’s welcome when he brings the food and they dig in. King watches Saitama devour her disco fries with a mixture of fascination and disgust. Saitama makes an obscene gesture while licking gravy and melted cheese out from between her fingers and Mumen snorts her drink. While Mumen is laughing and suffering with coffee up her nose Saitama turns to waggle her eyebrows at King and finds that her friend is already flushed bright red, her heart beating loudly.

“Sai don’t be vulgar.” King says, hand clutching at her imaginary pearls. Mumen groans as she blows coffee out of her nose. Saitama laughs so hard she can’t breathe.

Mumen’s lunch break ends and Saitama lingers in their parting hug too long, not realizing how touch starved she was until Mumen wrapped her arms around her. For a blissful moment, everything is okay. Mumen lets her linger, and makes Sai promise to come visit her apartment soon for dinner. King has to head out as well and Saitama feels like this was over far too soon. As she climbs into her truck the fleeting happiness is already snuffed out, replaced by the usual numbness. She sighs and lets her head drop to the steering wheel. She’s so tired all of a sudden. She perks up a bit when she remembers she brought her coupons with her, and decides that since she’s already in town she might as well go to the store.

When Saitama gets home it’s a little after 2 in the afternoon. The sheep baa at her from the fence as she brings her groceries into the house. She nearly trips over Rover as he bounces around her feet at the front door, but manages to get the groceries safely onto the counter. She unpacks them methodically as she plans out what she’ll make for dinner.

When she steps outside again bundled in warm clothes she suddenly remembers the comet. How could she forget? She considers walking, but it crashed a fair distance away and the mud and snow isn’t the best to walk through. She’ll take Moon.

She pulls the old barn door open with a grunt and breathes in the smell of hay and manure. She thinks barn smell is a good smell, but that’s probably just because she’s associated it with the good things that come with it. The sheep are all outside despite the cold, but her old gelding Moon and her cow Pudding are both inside. She coos at them and they watch her with large eyes as she moves about the barn.

Saitama grooms Moon on autopilot, just spacing from one half-thought to another. She rubs the brush in circles over his thick winter coat to get up the dirt, then brushes the fur back down smooth. This time of year he’s more fuzzball then horse, and it takes a while to get him clean. She fights the snarls out of his mane and tail with an old brush that’s lost multiple bristles to these battles. She’s got white hairs all over her coat by the time she’s done, but that’s nothing new. It’s hard to imagine looking at Moon now that he was once dark grey and covered in dapples, as age had rendered him white as the snow outside the barn. She tacks up slower than she’d like since the cold is making her fingers stiff. It’s only when she hops up into the saddle that she remembers what she’s doing. She feels a buzz of excitement as she leads Moon out of the barn and gets on.

Saitama nudges Moon forward, the old horse picking up a fast trot into the forest. The rhythm of his trotting is soothing and Sai lets herself fall into the pattern of posting in the saddle. Saitama’s not sure exactly which direction to go. There’s miles of forest around her, and the meteor could be anywhere. At the first fork in the trail she turns Moon towards the direction she remembers the comet streaking across the sky. The trail winds its way up a hill and at the top of the rise the forest spreads out below her. The sun breaks out of the clouds and the forest shines beautifully for a few brief moments. She’s known this forest all her life, yet somehow it still manages to amaze her. Sai pulls her horse to a stop just to observe. The clouds close over the sun again and the moment passes, the forest once again dim. It’s this sudden stillness that allows her to spot the movement of smoke twisting above the trees to the east.

“That must be it” she says, patting Moon on the shoulder. “C’mon fuzzball let’s go.” It takes a little convincing to get Moon off the trail towards the smoke and they pick their way through the trees at a slow trot. As they get closer Sai can smell the smoke, and she spurs Moon forward.

Saitama starts seeing trees with the tops shorn off. Suddenly there are whole trees ripped in half, some still smoking. She stops Moon to gape at the huge pines that have been reduced to splinters. The trees are easily three times her width, yet the comet destroyed them like they were merely toothpicks. She finds herself grateful for the melting snow- or else there might have been a forest fire. This isn’t even where most of the smoke is coming from though; the bulk of it lies ahead. The fallen trees are smoldering, the smoke thick. She can see that there’s some sort of crater, but so many trees have fallen around it that it’s obscured from her vision. She slides off Moon’s back and walks ahead of him, suddenly feeling apprehensive.

Saitama picks her way to the edge of the crater, her feet sinking into churned up slush and mud. She easily pushes a chuck of tree out of her way, climbing over massive pine boughs and pulling her legs out of the deep mud. She’s glad she tied her boots on tight or she would have lost them already. The air smells strongly of earth and smoke. She checks to make sure Moon is waiting for her by the edge, and he is. He’s a good horse. Reassured, she pushes her way deeper into the crater, but she still doesn’t see anything resembling a space rock. Saitama climbs on top of a huge tree trunk and nearly falls off in shock. There’s a person down at the bottom of the crater, passed out in the mud.

“Are you okay?!” Saitama shouts. No response. ‘Obviously they are not okay you stupid idiot’ she thinks to herself as she jumps down. What are they doing here? Are they even still alive? What is she going to do with a dead body?

Saitama rushes over next to them, kneeling down to feel for a pulse when she freezes stiff. There’s something wrong. Something about the planes of their face is off. They’ve got metal pieces on the sides of their cheeks that remind her of cat whiskers, but that she’s certainly never seen on a person before. She looks over the body in front of her and sees chrome where skin should be. Chrome? She grabs their wide shoulders and pulls, and holy shit this person is heavy. It suddenly dawns on her why this person is at the bottom of the crater. There should be a rock here, but there isn’t. There’s just this person.

They are the comet.

It wasn’t a meteor at all.

“Holy fucking shit.” Saitama says. She pulls the person (robot? cyborg?? alien???) up to her chest and tugs, but the mud is half frozen and they are stuck fast. Saitama puts more force into pulling incrementally, worried about hurting them with her strength. Suddenly they burst free and Saitama falls back on her ass, several hundred pounds of muddy robot in her lap.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT” Saitama yells. Moon snorts at her in the distance, clearly not understanding what the silly human is freaking out about. The robot in her lap suddenly gasps in a breath and Saitama nearly jumps out of her skin. They’re alive! Okay, time to focus. This person (?) needs help and she’s got to get herself together.

“Hey, uh I don’t know if you know English, but I’m here to help okay? I’m going to lift you up now.” Sai hauls the bot onto her back and slowly crawls up out of the crater, cursing whenever she slips back down through the mud or gets jabbed by splintered wood. It’s slow going, and by the time she makes it back to Moon it’s nearly sundown. She considers putting the bot up on the horses back, but Moon is old and she’s fairly certain her passenger is too heavy for him. Sai hefts the cyborg back up where they’d been slipping down her back and grabs Moon’s reins.

“C’mon Moon this is going be a long walk home” Saitama sighs. It’s a slow trudge through the woods. The robot isn’t too heavy, but the ground is slippery and it’s rapidly getting dark. Saitama is tired and scraped up and there’s cold mud in her boots. She’s nothing if not stubborn and determined however. She just has to try to make this hike a little more pleasant. Saitama clears her throat and starts singing to herself.

“Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk I’m a woman’s man: no time to talk Music loud and women warm, I’ve been kicked around Since I was born And now it’s all right, it’s okay And you may look the other way We can try to understand The New York Times’ effect on man Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother You’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’ And we’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive”

She sings in rhythm with her steps. One foot in front of the other, over and over. She listens to the squish of Moon’s hooves stepping over the wet earth, and the steady breathing of the cyborg. Eventually Moon starts tugging on the reins and Saitama looks up from her feet. Her barn stands in front of her and it is a damn welcome sight.

“We made it, we’re alive! You are still alive, right?” She jostles her passenger and receives a groan in response. Still kicking then.

Saitama struggles to pry open the old barn door while hunched over and supporting the bot with one hand but she manages. The dimly lit interior of the barn is a welcome relief to the blackness outside. She lays the bot down on some hay bales and rushes to put Moon away and get the barn closed up. She ignores the sheep yelling at her for dinner and digs several rag towels out of a trunk. She rubs the mud off best she can. She didn’t notice before because of the mud and adrenaline but the bot is 100% stark naked. Not that she really cares. Once she’s gotten the robot halfway clean she quickly feeds the animals, spilling grain on the floor in her haste. Whatever, let the mice have a party tonight. The cat will take care of it. She scoops the bot up and gasps when a metal hand weakly grips her coat. The bot’s face contorts and their eyes flutter, and Saitama books it for the house. Rover is unusually quiet when she bursts through the door. She places the bot down on the couch and drapes a blanket over them. Their long legs hang off the end of the couch and she pulls a chair over for their feet to rest on. She grabs her old space heater and plugs it in. It doesn’t turn on. Saitama gives it a kick and it rumbles to life. She sticks the end of the space heater under the cyborgs blanket, fire hazard be damned. Saitama hovers by the side of the couch. She didn’t plan ahead and now she’s not sure what to do about the alien in her living room. They seem to be injured somehow, even though she hadn’t seen anything glaring while scraping the mud off. A train on the nearby tracks sounds its horn loudly through the night and Saitama considers her options. None of them seem particularly good. In the end she drags her comforter downstairs to the living room and makes a nest besides the couch. Rover pushes in besides her and sniffs at the metal hand of their house guest. The bot seems to be asleep, and she decides to let them rest. Do robots even need sleep? She’s pretty sure they don’t. They shouldn’t need to breathe either. Maybe not a bot after all.

She watches them breathe for a while, processing as her brain seems to stall over the anomaly in front of her. Part organic, part machine. A cyborg. In her living room. On her couch. It’s something straight out of science fiction. This is like waking up to find Optimus Prime and Luke Skywalker camping out in her barn. Feeling a little overwhelmed, she turns the TV on with the volume low. She ends up watching Star Trek reruns, which only serves to make her situation feel even more surreal. There’s an ET sleeping on her couch. Slowly, she reaches out to press her hand to the cyborg’s. It’s cool and solid and very real.

She’s exhausted but knows that if she smokes to sleep she’ll sleep heavy, and she’s worried about the cyborg waking up in distress. She’ll just have to deal. Saitama turns off the space heater once the cyborg isn’t cold to the touch, not sure if the cyborg can overheat but also not sure if they were supposed to be that cold. She’s not really sure if she’s helping or not. Rover snores softly and Saitama pets him. Time passes and she dozes off, but never for more than an hour at a time. Apparently sheltering extraterrestrials in her home does nothing to help with her insomnia. The next time she blinks awake again the sky is violet and peach between the ivory curtains. As the sun rises and the light of day brings the cyborg’s sleeping face into soft focus, Saitama feels for the first time with certainty that this is real. She huffs out a laugh and looks up at the cracked ceiling.

“Theo, Ace, you’re not going to believe this.”

[ptw30]

Deleted Scene from The Final Act of Mercy - Long-Distance Call

Summary of The Final Act of Mercy:  Set after Season One, Episode 11: Shiro and Keith are hunted on an abandoned desert planet by the Galra Empire, and when the Druid who fought Keith on the infamous “space base” joins the attack, he gives Shiro the greatest gift - or the greatest curse - his memories from his time as a prisoner.

A/N: During edits, I noticed this scene is not really needed. The purpose of it occurs in a later scene, but I still think it has some cute Keith/Shiro fluff. Hope you enjoy!

Pre-Kerberos

“Do you want me to get Kogane?” 

So Keith could tell Shiro, “I told you so”? No, that wasn’t what Shiro needed today. If anything, Shiro had been taught by the best for situations just like this, and if he didn’t survive, then it was his own fault. But he wouldn’t scar Keith by having that “last good-bye” conversation or making the kid watch and listen to his communications as he went out on a surprise spacewalk to fix the leaking oxygen tank.

The highly dangerous, potentially explosive leaking oxygen tank.

And Shiro would be the one to fix it. Sure, Matt or Commander Holt would have probably been the better choice – both were scientists and Matt took courses on mechanical engineering – but Matt was barely two years older than Keith. And Commander Holt, though spry for his old age, wasn’t as agile as Shiro, who was thirty years his junior.

So Shiro volunteered, much to Commander Holt’s displeasure, but Iverson outranked him and sided with Shiro, who donned his spacesuit less than twenty minutes later. As he went over mission parameters with both Iverson and Holt, Iverson interjected, a sympathetic tone in his usual rough voice, “Do you want me to get Kogane?”

Shiro sucked in a long inhale. “No, sir. Thank you.”

“You should talk to him,” Holt offered, helping to secure Shiro’s pack and going through the routine checks. “He’ll want to talk to you in case…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Shiro shrugged and grabbed the tool kit Holt compiled. “The less he knows, the better. There’s no reason for him to worry when there’s nothing for him to do.”

Shiro headed into the space lock while Commander Holt stood before the controls. “Takashi,” he called, spurring Shiro to turn. “If the roles were reversed, would you want to know if Keith was in danger?”

Holt didn’t wait for a response or particularly want one; he just wanted to prove his point, which he did. Wearing a melancholic frown, he hit the controls on the side of the lock, sealing the room and opening the doors to space.

Matt, safely locked away in the cockpit, began giving Shiro directions and advice for the task at hand, and when the cracked tank came into view and Shiro saw the sheer number of air bubbles escaping, he stopped in mid-float.

“Matt, would you hold on a moment?”

“Sure, Shiro. What’s wrong?”

“Commander Iverson, sir?”

The harsh voice grated on his ears, “Yeah, Shirogane?”

“Could you get Keith, sir?”

To his surprise, the commander’s voice lightened, “Yeah. Actually, he’s right here.”

Of course he was. Iverson probably ran to get him the moment the computers detected the problem. Had he been watching the ordeal at the New Mexico command station the entire time?

“Shiro?” a tentative, worried voice sounded.

“Hey, kiddo.” God, this was harder than he thought. “Just wanted to say hi. Make sure you studied for that thermodynamics test.”

“That’s not why you called.”

No, it wasn’t. “Keith…”

There wasn’t anything to say, really. They spoke how they felt about each other in every call, in every conversation. Even before Shiro left for Kerberos – gentle teasing, hair ruffles, second helpings of mac and cheese, late-night study sessions – they were family.

There didn’t need to be a last-minute deathbed confession because there was nothing to confess. Keith knew how Shiro felt about him, but it was comforting to hear his voice.

Keith seemed to know that.

“I found this place outside of Dallas, a diner,” he started, and Shiro could just imagine his little brother with the large earpieces covering the sides of his head and the microphone in front of his bitten lips, gloved fists clenched in desperate hope. “It has these lemon-filled blueberry pancakes and favored coffees.”

Shiro wished he could wipe the tears that blurred his vision, but he started toward the cracked tank nonetheless. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I thought we could rent a jeep instead of a convertible and maybe do some off-roading.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Hey, guys,” Matt interjected, “sorry to interrupt, but Shiro, you need make sure to turn off the valves first.”

Keith went quiet as Matt spoke, but during the breaks, Shiro said, “Kid, talk to me.”

And Keith did, conveying the same message over and over, You promised to come back.

Shiro replied with every passing moment, I will.

“Okay…I think that does it,” he said when the last bubbles of air slipped into the endless abyss of space. “Let her rip, Matt.”

The engines roared to life, and as soon as Shiro floated safely into the space lock, the ship restarted its course for Kerberos with no sign of leakage from the indicators. They’d have to cut their mission short by two weeks in order to make up for the air loss, but that was all right. Keith would probably be excited to pick him up early in Houston.

His little brother’s tired but relieved eyes greeted him as Shiro flopped down in front of the viewer screen in his quarters.

“Never again,” Keith demanded. “I want to know the moment something happens.”

“Kid – ”

“No. You weren’t going to let them tell me? Shiro, what the hell?”

Shiro let out a heavy sigh as he unhooked his suit’s gloves and pulled off his boots, then tossed both sets into a nearby closet. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“And you didn’t think I would when I saw it on the news?”

“By then, it would have been over, one way or another.”

“Shiro!” Keith’s fists shook on the table with his computer. “Iverson said you volunteered, said you didn’t want Commander Holt to – ”

Shiro deflated even further as he lifted off his heavy suit, revealing his formfitting white and black shirt and pants. “Kid, he’s Matt <i>dad.</i> They’re family. I couldn’t – ”

Keith switched to Korean, and his voice barely lifted above a whisper, “You have one, too, y’know.”

He did – with Keith, and he’d just dismissed Keith’s feelings for Commander Holt and Matt’s. Even after three years, he still didn’t have this family thing quite right yet, but he was learning. And one very important part of family was forgiveness, which Keith seemed willing to offer this time.

“We don’t keep secrets, Shiro.” I showed you who I am. “You need to trust me, too.”

It was a hard promise to keep but no harder than the one to return home. So Shiro smiled and brought the laptop to the bed, flopping stomach down and tucking a pillow under his chin. Keith watched, undeterred, as Shiro got comfortable.

“I will.” A loud yawn muffled his words. “I’m sorry, kiddo.” Why were life and death situations so exhausting?

“Yeah…you should be.” Keith seemed shocked at Shiro’s admission but quickly recovered, arms crossed. “…don’t do it again.”

Shiro could just imagine Keith’s large ears twitching, and Shiro wanted to scratch them – later. Yeah, later. “Stay on the line, all right? I’m tired, but I want to talk to you.”

“So you’re going to make me wait until after your nap? I could shut the computer, y’know.”

“You could,” Shiro said with an indulgent, sleepy smile, “but you won’t.”

Keith didn’t, and rather than cutting Keith and Shiro’s connection after the five allotted minutes, the garrison allowed Keith to stay on the line the entire time his brother slept.

If you’d like to read the rest of the story, you can find it here. Thanks!