#it might be too much garlic but on the other hand i am a bitch who likes too much garlic

[i-am-but-a-beta-fish]

i made this grilled cheese. this is really good grilled cheese. (b — v —)b

kill the shift manager in your brain

[freakygirlie]

Walker- 1x05~spoilers~

bye this shouldn’t have taken a month but here we are and I have no excuse other than the fact that I was avoiding tumblr anyways

~spoilers~ last warning!!!

4 MONTHS FLASHBACK WAS SO WELL SET UP!!! Walker in the Duke outfit looked good enough to eat <3 Ok and I liked Twyla in the beginning PLEASE.

‘‘Hope you can count to 11′‘ JDSJHJDSH SASS ON POINT <3

The scene of Walker shoving his head in the sink of water to ground himself was heartbreaking but at the same time so...badass idk man. Walker Ily.

‘‘August is grounded’‘ ‘‘You really want to test me? After this?’‘ SNAPPP. But like August is so scared of his dad leaving :( (i need to stop comparing sam and august in my head bye)

TRICKI!!! Micki and Trey’s interaction over his job was so cute i LOVE THEMMM. ‘’sports medicine’’ trey that’s not a thing but issok ily. Trey wanting to introduce Micki to his mom :’) OK BUT MY FAV PART WAS THAT AFTER MICKI SNAPPED AT TREY SHE IMMEDIATELY APOLOGIZED LIKE HELLO COMMUNICATION!!! WE STAN A COUPLE LIKE THIS SO MUCH!!!

SHIRTLESS WALKER ALERT SHIRTLESS WALKER ALERT H E L P.

‘‘Keep the circle small and the lies honest’‘ dAMN new instagram caption

I hate Graves. Like so much. Bitch diE. LIAM DEFENDING HIS BROTHER SO TRUE <33 MICKI DEFENDING WALKER! SO! TRUE!

JARED CALLING TWYLA BABY GIRL AND BABY DOLL PLEASE SOMEONE H E L P, LIGHTING MYSELF ON FIRE

sexy times we love ;) ‘’garlic bread and whiskey(?)’’ YUH SAME WALKER SAME.

WHY TF DOES EVERYONE THINK HE STOLE THE MONEY STAY AWAY FROM MY BOY :(

I don’t like Ruby ok. Someone tell her to go far away from August pls

MICKI GOING UNDERCOVER TO HELP WALKER SO TRUE AND SHE LOOKS SO GOERGEOUS MICKI HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY THIS MARRY ME.

HER GOING AFTER TO HELP WALKER EVEN WHEN GRAVES TOLD HER NOT TOO I AKDJHJDHD EXPLOSION. CW HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO NOT SHIP THEM.

MICKI’S ACCENT HEEEELLLLLPPPPPPPP. ALSO WALKER’S ACCENT AS DUKEEE HELPPPPPPP. I have an accent kink apparently.

HAHHAHAHSAHJS TWYLA QUESTIONING MICKI(ADRIANA) AS TO WHO DUKE’S BEST FRIEND IS AND MICKI GUESSING IT CORRECTLY I LOVE HER. And that smug smirk she had when talking about putting him in lockup JSHJHSGS YES MICK WE KNOWWW.

‘‘there’s something she’s gotta do first’‘ I IMMEDIATELY KNEW THIS WAS GONNA BE THE BULL SCENE AND I KID U NOT IT WAS EPIC. IT DELIVERED. I LOVE THAT SCENE SM<3

But the one before that! Walker and Micki’s convo! Micki ribbing Walker for being a jackass<33 and Walker knowing that she stood up for him SHUT UP I LOVE THEMMM. Walker yelling in Micki’s ear JDSJDHJ ‘’still think i’m crooked Graves?’’ a) which kinda crooked walker ;) and b) graves i hate u bye

AUGUST COMING TO FIND HIS DAD OVER THERE. OHMYGOD OK LISTEN I LOVE U BUT U ARE AN IDIOT. Legitimately i was so mad Walker didn’t scold August for doing what he did. The conversation really broke my heart though. Walker was just pleADING with his eyes for August to go away but *sighs*.

Trey and Stella’s interaction was the cUTEST!!! I love Trey so much actually. And him being coach is smth I’m also very excited to see more of, he’s gonna be great!!!(this is a very nice time to add that Jeff Pierre liked my comment on insta<33)

And then we get to the best scene of this episode. Walker and Micki along with the others about to ‘’plan’’ the new raid so they can cover the missing 300K, walker being stressed about the August situation, shaking his hand and visibly trembling, MICKI HOLDING HIS HAND TO GROUND HIM SOMEONE TAKE ME AWAY I AM D E C E A S E D. THAT SO VERY TINY SCENE MOVED ME SO MUCH SHUT UP I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM.

THE WHOLE SHOOTOUT GOING THERE ENTIRE SCENE!!!! YES BADASS TEXAS RANGERS AWESOME GUN FIGHTING BAM BAM BAM.

Also i really loved the flashbacks of Duke’s undercover time. They were really well done and flowed with the story so much, how is this show real.

But Jared Padalecki i-

‘‘I lost someone....My brother’‘ YOU LITTLE- YOU KNEW. YOU KNEW WHAT THAT WOULD DO TO US I WILL CHEW ROCKS. ‘��he was my best friend’‘ JARED WHY WHY WHY WHY.

‘‘butch and sundance’‘ i hate this show.

Loved Walker’s fake attempt to escape, so he doesn’t blow his cover, I don’t like Twyla anymore :) but i liked Duke, the character he was and ngl I ship Twyla and Duke, no one come after me for this.

WHEN HE GOT SHOT OHMYGOD FOR A SECOND I FREAKED SO BAD.(It’s just my Sam ptsd activating no biggie :/ i need to get over spn for my own good ohmyGod)

So as far as Twyla or Clint goes, Duke’s dead.......that might....come bite them in the ass later(after watching episode 6: oops i spoke too soon:) )

Clint and Crystal’s last dance moment was cute ok dont @ me bye

LIAM AND CORDELL ARE SO CUTE OHMYGOD. Liam calling Cordell ‘Cordi’ I’m in my feels no one touch me. The hand on his necK NO ONE TOUCH ME. PROTECTIVE!LIAM RIGHTS!!!

CORDELL TELLING LIAM NONE OF THAT WITH CLINT WAS ON HIM H E L P PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER JDJSDJD I LOVE. 

THE HUG!!!! <33333

WALKER COMING HOME TO HIS KIDS AND EXPLAINING THE SITUATION!!! WE LOVE COMMUNICATION. ‘’Duke is dead’’ CHILLS.

Them burning everything, and getting rid of it all and being a family, i teared up again damn this show.

‘‘Emily’s murder....something is off,’‘ YEAH GET ON THE TRAIN BRO WHAT HAS WALKER BEEN SAYING

Micki and Trey scene!!!! I love them again, and the fact that they open up to each other and talk about what’s real and important! I love tricki so much <3

ANYWAYS THIS EPISODE WAS A BLAST!!!!! VERY WELL AND NICELY DONE WALKER JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER!!! Also so glad it didn’t end on a cliffhanger <3

Speculation/Thoughts for Episode 6:- (what i felt when i first watched the promo since this is being uploaded after the 6th ep has aired i’m an idiot ok)

WHY IS GERI SELLING THE BAR I REALLY LIKE IT! SIDESTEP SHOULD REMAIN P L E A S E. ALSO HOYT RAWLINS IS COMIGN BACK OMG OMG OMG I LOVE HIM OK YEEEEE!!! And um Liam and James investigating Emily’s murder...........without informing Walker.........that’s gonna go well.....AND HELLO WHAT DO THEY FIND??? IK SOMEONE ON THE INSIDE IS INVOLVED OK. 

Micki’s mom is coming in this ep! I wanna see how that one plays out since we know they don’t have the best relationship. *sighs* parents :) 

i cant wait 3 weeks wtf. bring walker back.

[thepulta]

Part 1

For @lettuce-shoes. This just brained me when she mentioned Adult Finds a Child because I wanted their friendship to happen in the storyline but it never really did and there is a WHOLE AU that could definitely happen around it if Skyfarer-Proper never happened. Skyfarer could happen maybe and the dynamic would have been completely different. But mostly I don’t see Skyfarer happening, it just would have been this catastrophe of three sisters and that’s this Listlie AU. 

-=-

Arthur’s instructions had been very simple. Go to Port Prosper, organize the Fairweather offices, meet Morgan, and escort her home to London.

Morgan had bitched about it because she “was seventeen and wasn’t a fucking baby thank you very much” but there’d been some light platitudes about separate cabins and travelling together finally and she’d fucked off to Leadbeater several months previously, mollified.

That was all fine. The offices were fine too at this point. It’d only taken a day to get the paperwork in order; some missing ledgers were behind the bookshelf. What the instructions did NOT include, however, were how to deal with getting framed as a parent.

The first red flag was the child that burst through the crowd. She must have seen the red hair, Westlie’s casual This is my Day Off because I’m not in London and Arthur can shove it look and beelined towards her. The second red flag was the constable that shoved over a man in pursuit. He looked angry.

The third red flag was the child screaming, “Mother!” with tears in her eyes, which was less of a red flag and more of a mobile red brick wall smacking Westlie in the face, which, coincidentally stopped her walking in stunned silence and the child slammed into her legs.

She was about six or seven with curly black hair pulled into a ponytail and big brown eyes. She had a very rough cotton dress on. It was questionably clean, but extremely untidy. Her sniffles threatened to overwhelm her as she looked up and a tear ran down her cheek. “H-he’s trying to arrest me!”

Trying to-

“EXCUSE ME.” The constable shoved past another person in the throng to reach them. He was huge, at least six foot with beefy hands and a well-oiled mustache. “SHE-” He reached them and Westlie instinctively felt something tighten in her as he loomed, pulling herself to her full height. “Excuse me, ma’am. You can turn that child over.”

“This is my mother!”

Westlie looked down at the child, brain reeling. She stared back up at Westlie with enormous frightened eyes.

She looked back up at the constable and somehow managed to clear her throat. “Why are you chasing her?”

He looked aghast. “She’s an orphan! Look at her! She stole a purse and needs to be returned to the orphanage immediately to be punished!”

The constable scowled and reached out his hands. “I’m not an orphan!” The child pushed back against Westlie’s legs, almost hiding behind them. “She’s my mother! Tell him to go away!”

“I- I-” The constable smelled like garlic and Westlie instinctively smacked his hand edging away from him as well when he edged closer. “Back off.” She stared down at the child. “Did you- did you take something?”

The child’s lip quivered. “I- I didn’t mean to.” The child paused. “-Mum.”

I hate this. Was Westlie’s instinctive thought. I am never going to be called mum. God, have I ever called Relia ‘mum’? I should apologize.

“Give it back.”

The child was already shaking a little bit when she huddled against Westlie’s skirts, but she started shaking in earnest at that point, but she obeyed. After a few seconds, tears started streaming down her cheeks and she produced a little coin purse that couldn’t have held more than 3 sovereigns at most. She held it up to Westlie who gently took it and offered it to the constable.

The constable snatched it, scowling. “I appreciate the cooperation, ma’am, but that’s proof she’s a fucking thief.” He sneered down at the child who shook harder. “You need to be in jail you little picker.”

He was getting pleasure out of scaring her, Westlie could see it on his face. He slid the purse into his jacket in a way that wasn’t entirely honest either and she had to wonder if those three sovereigns were going to get back to their owner. The whole exchange- him leering over the child who was terrified and scared witless and very clearly didn’t want to go back from wherever she had come from- so much that she would cling to an utter stranger for help- struck a chord with Westlie. Being out of London was like a breath of fresh air from Arthur’s looming and who was she to send this child back to whatever fucking hellhole she’d run from. Maybe the money had been to eat. It certainly didn’t look like she’d been fed well.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Westlie almost blinked in surprise at the venom in the tone. The constable certainly did.

“She is my-” Westlie barely managed to get the word out without choking. “-daughter and I appreciate your willingness to bring justice with the purse. Now kindly fuck off.”

He scowled harder and the leer pivoted to Westlie. She felt the usual ball of anger inside herself begin to flame and she instinctively puffed herself up to meet him, scowling back and tucking the child behind her. “Ma’am,” he spat the word. “The place she needs is a cell to know what she’s done.”

Westlie’s tone dripped sarcasm. “With every possible respect, Sir, she is under my supervision and I will discipline her myself for the trouble she’s caused Port Prosper. Come on-” she realized as she snatched the child’s hand she didn’t even know her name. “-girl.”

She stomped away from the constable, the girl stumbling after her a bit. She didn’t stop until they were away from the docks and a few streets closer to the offices. When it seemed safe enough, she ducked into a quiet alleyway and glanced back down at the girl. She was crying again. Westlie realized abruptly she’d been clutching her hand too tight. “I’m- I’m- I’m so sorry. Um-”

Westlie leaned down, cleared her throat, and offered the girl and handkerchief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pull you like that. I’m so sorry. I-” she cleared her throat again, completely at a loss. “I’m sorry.”

The girl sniffed and scrubbed a bit fruitlessly at her tears. Westlie could get a better look at her face. “Where…. Where is your home?”

“Please don’t take me back!” There was another wail and burst of tears. The girl cringed away from her and Westlie felt something in her heart twist. “Please, please, please! I’ll do anything. Don’t take me back to the orphanage!”

“Hey- hey-” Westlie cleared her throat and shoved her hand in her pocket, wondering if there was going to be anything useful. A pencil and a five-pence. Not useful. “I- I’m not taking you back. Don’t worry. Are you ok? You look… are you hungry?”

The girl didn’t respond, she was looking at the dirty handkerchief in shock. “… I dirtied it. I’m sorry. I dirtied it.”

Westlie gently took it from her and the girl’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Hey, it’s ok. I’m not mad.”

She just stared at her with scared wide eyes.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“… food?”

“Right.” It came out a bit more impatient than Westlie expected and she reminded herself why she was never, ever going to have children. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.” The girl sniffed and looked back down at the ground, her voice dropping low. “They don’t feed us dinner there… and I missed breakfast, and I thought-”

Westlie found herself straightening up, and somewhat returning to her normal self, trying to deal with things in a no-nonsense manner because that was what was expected and productive and reasonable. “Let’s get street buns.”

She strolled back out of the alleyway, not holding the child’s hand. She stumbled when the child ran and smacked into the back of her legs. She grabbed her skirt and clung to the side of it. “Hey- what are you-” Oh, she was scared. Westlie felt her heart soften a little again and she slowed down so the child could keep pace, literally holding onto her by one edge of the skirt.

It worked out well. The made their way to the office section where pushcarts lined the sides of the streets. There were more extravagant ones for sitting down; some with chicken being grilled with steam-spits that grilled and turned the chicken at the same time. The steamed buns cart was close to Fairweather though. Easy, simple, and cheap. Westlie tossed him the five-pence and ordered two pork buns.

They sat on the edge of the street outside of the office with the multitude of other office workers hurrying past. The child tore into her bun while Westlie munched appreciatively at it. When she looked over a few minutes later, the child’s whole bun was gone and she was staring awkwardly at the street. Her own was only half-finished. Fuck. Well. She had more money in her room above the office. There would be more pork buns. Westlie gently nudged the child who jumped. “Do you want the rest?”

The child looked scared. “N-no, I’m fine.”

“You can have mine. I don’t want it.”

Still the scared look. It reminded Westlie of Morgan tempting little dogs out or tossing feral cats bits of cheese until she could cuddle them and sneak them into the house. She held out the bun a little farther. “It’s ok.”

The child gave her one more worried look, then snatched the bun and hurriedly tore into it like it wouldn’t last a second longer. That was gone in under a minute.

Westlie cleared her throat after another minute. The girl looked like she was scared, but staying put because it seemed safe and she didn’t have anywhere else to go. “Do you have a name…?”

“’course I have a name.” The girl sniffed. “’m Lizzie.”

“Elizabeth?”

“My friends call me Lizzie.”

I’m not your friend, Westlie thought sullenly.

“Did you… live in the orphanage? -Lizzie?”

The girl recoiled into herself at the question like she was scared Westlie might send her back, or maybe if she thought she was judging her.

“I- I just want to know where you’re from. Do you have a family…?”

“… no family. Ran away from the orphanage.”

“Where… did you want to go, Lizzie?” And that question was genuine, because… Westlie couldn’t really summon the words. It was obvious she was terrified of the orphanage, but she was still brave enough to run away. Maybe not even running to something – and Westlie felt like if she ever ran away from Arthur, if it ever got really bad she would want to be running to something. And was it bad enough with Arthur to run away? When was bad enough? Not getting fed? Being punished? Was she frightened enough now?

Westlie jerked herself back to the present when Lizzie shifted to hug her knees. “… nowhere. I thought- I thought maybe I could ride on a train to New Winchester. But I don’t have money for a ticket.”

“Do you… have a place to spend the night…?”

“No.”

Part of her wanted to yell at the girl for being so unreasonable as to just run out on the streets without food, without money. What if she’d been kidnapped or anything worse that could happen to small girls. Westlie’s heart twisted a bit again. What could she do about it? What could she do about it? She didn’t know orphanages and obviously the one here wouldn’t do. She couldn’t send her back. That would be cruel. Were there people who could take her…? Maybe the workers….?

Westlie glanced over her shoulder at Fairweather. There were two workers on staff. One was just a boy younger than her and the other was the incompetent woman who’d dropped the ledge behind the shelf. She glanced back at Lizzie. She looked so small, clutching her knees to her chest, so unsure.

There was-

Westlie hated herself for thinking it.

There was her room.

It wasn’t large. It was just basic necessities. Arthur- and by extension, herself weren’t frivolous. But even if she slept on the floor, Lizzie would have a roof over her head. It’d be alright for the night. It’d buy her time to figure out what to do. Maybe the solution was just giving her money to head to New Winchester. That was a safe solution, wasn’t it?

Right.

Westlie stared at Lizzie and she suddenly found herself unable to talk. ‘Come home with me…?’ Fuck, that was so creepy. What was she trying to do? Lure her to a grave? Westlie cleared her throat. ‘Stay with me for the night?’ No-no, too pensive.

She opened her mouth, closed it, and struggled with it for a full minute before Lizzie looked up at her and the words finally came out. “I- If you want to stay. I mean. Stay with me. For the night that is. If you want. And we can figure out something in the morning. That seems like a good idea. You can’t go out there. You shouldn’t anyway. And we can- I don’t know. There’s dinner. More dinner- I mean, anyway. If you want dinner.”

Lizzie just watched her with wide eyes, but she didn’t say no.

Westlie stared back.

This was such a bad idea. Holy shit it was such a bad idea. Fuck. Goddamn. Why.

She shoved all the thoughts aside and stood up, staring down at the very small, very wide-eyed child. I’m a very small, very wide-eyed child, her mind grumbled. She held out her hand.

Lizzie hesitated for a very long minute, then her hand slowly crept up, ever so slowly. One second, two seconds. It almost touched Westlie’s fingertips. They both stared at each other, equally scared and uncertain, and then Lizzie grabbed it and held on, letting Westlie gently pull her to her feet.

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - Deprived

Part 13

In case y'all forgot, their entire relationship started with sleeping and cuddles. If you're sick of reading about it, I don't know how you made it this far. Last! Bit! Until the bet's end! Warning, it might take me forever to write part 14. Thoughts are always loved.

Tags!: @emjrabbitwolf @mystery-5-5 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @fandomkitty8 @dast218 @silvergold-swirl @shizukiryuu . @my-name-is-michell @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @thecatnipmademedoit @shamefullove @ladylucina28 @crazylittlemunchkin @rayray384 @cassiejaydee @yuulxd @ladysblackcat @naclychilli @caffeinetheory @persephonebutkore @fertileleaf @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @weird-pale-blonde-person @st0rmy-w1th1n @littleblue5mcdork @dudet @naoryllis @disneyfoxuniverse @lordsmeldingtonthethird @taoiichii @resignedcatservant @iloontjeboontje @a-fan-fighting-for-equality

~---~

Missing someone starts simple enough. You raincheck a date or have to cancel a few times because life just demanded too much of you that week. Not that big of a deal, especially for a new couple. Surely the attachment and codependency hasn't settled in too heavily yet. Except maybe you're accustomed to seeing them at least four nights and two days every week at minimum even before dating. Perhaps that person helps with your bad habits and the lack of their presence disperses half your impulse control. There's even a chance that your basic human needs get tossed into a shallow grave with no marker because who really needs food and water and sleep? Those are optional right? But really, to skip all the roundabout half speak, it all accumulated into one basic thought, 'I miss Tim.'

...

"Something I should know about?" Robin spoke, not turning towards her where she landed at his side. 

"Not allowed to follow my bestie every now and again?"

"Tt. I am well aware that I am not your usual choice of company, Tuemessian. Angel's? Maybe. Not yours."

She hesitated a moment, contemplating teasing only to stop herself. She came to confide in him, not annoy and he had already offered the branch. No need to have it retracted.

"Batman decided to tail Red a few days ago."

"Hmm, Red Robin hasn't been on any particularly difficult cases lately. Why would he need the extra help?"

"Because of me."

"We all know you shadow him. No reason to start getting uppity about it now," he paused for a moment before shooting her an accusatory look, "Something must have changed. And you neglected to inform me."

Heaving a long suffering sigh at Robin's tone, she fell against his side.

"Might've gotten on Batman's bad side. And let him see me. And hung off Red."

"So he's babysitting you now," he realized.

"Pretty much."

"And you came running to me in retaliation so as not to be observed," he observed with an unimpressed scowl.

"I will not be tailed by a man in a glorified onesie. It's demeaning and rude," she sniffed, nose turned up in a perfect imitation of Chloe.

"Suppose I should get used to my new patrol partner then?"

"Until Bats gets his head out of where it doesn't belong anyways," she pouted further, "I'm going to miss Red."

"If you plan to whine about it, I won't stick around to hear it," he threatened.

"Yeah right, you love me too much to just abandon me."

"Don't push it."

…

Two nights later, Jason found Marinette sitting on the roof of the manor, drawing in her sketch pad.

"You know Littlewing is out tonight, right?"

"Yeah."

"Alright sugarcube, what's up? You always follow him on patrol nights," Jason asked, settling behind her and letting her lean back into his chest, taking comfort in the contact, "Unless you're the reason Batsy bitched all of last night?"

"He confronted Tim on why Vixen wasn't following Red Robin anymore. Said that Vixen was his responsibility and he was shirking it."

"And Tim told him to stop supervising his nights out," Jason filled in the blanks, chuckling at the memory, "thought he'd blow a gasket when Tim ignored him after that."

"Red told me he'd let me know when Bruce decided to back off so I could come out again. Followed Robin the last two nights, but it got boring. Taking a night off."

"Yeah, kid's too serious in the suit to be much fun. What you working on up here anyways?"

"New outfit for Kori. Owe her one," she stifled a yawn, concentrating once more on the mechanics of making a crop top that didn't move or lift with your arms up or when turned upside down, without being skin tight.

"And the roof was the best option for this, obviously."

"No distractions up here."

"Or really?"

"Don't even think about it!"

He snagged the sketchbook and took off back through the window and down the hall, laughing when he heard a shriek and the immediate sounds of Mari giving chase.

"Jason get back here with that!"

…

Stephanie dropped into the apartment on a Thursday, taking in the fabric bound chaos of the living area, particularly thick around a work desk that seemingly exploded. Scattered bits of boning, lacing, eyelets, three seam rippers and notably a few chains, sticking out of the disaster. In the center of it all sat a tiny designer with a vicious snarl curling the edge of her lip.

Skipping over, Steph wrapped her hands around and squeezed at the tense shoulders, noticing the concerning lack of reaction.

"Mari, I'm hungry."

"I'll make you something later."

"Hmm, don't think so. I'm calling for pizza. You're joining me and no, work is not allowed during pizza time." 

With that, she dragged Marinette off the chair and into the bedroom, both dropping onto the bed as Stephanie made the call, not needing to ask what the other wanted. Marinette didn't bother arguing, which was only more concerning. Steph wondered for a moment if she should call in reinforcement, but ultimately opted out. 'Nah, I got this.'

"Okay, should be here soon," she stated, relaxing into the comforter for a while, letting the other recover from being abruptly yanked out of work mode; read ten minutes of silence before curiosity won out.

"So what are you killing yourself over this time? Oh! Your suit for the next show? You have to let me see it!"

"No no, that was finished a week ago. You can stop by the studio tomorrow to check it out. You're still coming with me, right? I have a dress set aside for you."

"Obviously. I'm your date. However, that doesn't answer what you were getting so pissy with out there?" She teased, peaking at the other from the corner of her eye.

"It's a corset. Like, an actual, structured, hand embroidered, perfectly laced up corset. My hands feel like a crime scene with how much I've torn into them trying to get this right."

"Oh god, those things are so intricate. You're going to be screaming bloody murder by the end, why would you even do that to yourself?"

"... Haven't been sleeping much, figured it'd help get the frustration out."

"You never sleep much. Hence the sleep cuddle club," she pondered the thought a moment before snickering, "you two could make a business out of that if you weren't already swamping yourselves. Cuddle sessions for the sleep deprived and lonely. Oh! I'll go grab the door. I'm stealing your wallet by the way." 

Stephanie launched out of the room to the sound of a knocking door and a Mari grumbling about it hardly being stealing when you announce it and the owner doesn't care. Walking back in, she dropped the box between them, yanked the top off and grabbed for the garlic butter sauce they ordered to dip the crusts in.

"You're disgusting."

"And you lack respect for sauce. What else is new?"

"... I've been skipping nap time too," Mari muttered, hoping the other wouldn't hear.

"What do you mean you've been skipping naps? That's like, the only time you two ever sleep! Marinette, you cannot be awake 24/7."

"Pshh, more like 23/6. I crash hard on day 7."

"... That's a whole mood. Might I ask as to why you hate yourself so suddenly?"

"My commissions have gone through the roof with award season coming up, and spring weddings start up immediately after that. I might be clientele only, but my client basis is massive at this point! I don't have time and the few moments I've been free, Tim's been out for the night. And lord knows I don't sleep well alone."

"Uh-huh. And how long has this been going on?" Steph focused on the cheese stringing from her mouth that just would not let go, to give the other a chance to build up to tell the truth without having a guilty stare off.

"Um. About two weeks?" Mari flinched, wishing she were Tuemessian so she could disappear right there.

"So what you're telling me is that you haven't slept more than 12 collective hours, you're overworking yourself to the point of compliance to my antics, and your boyfriend, who's just as much of a sleepless wreck as you are, hasn't dragged you off for your regularly scheduled nap dates. Is that correct?"

"Well yeah. Wait, my boyfriend?"

"Don't even try me, I know you and Tim are a thing. No denying it. It's so damn blatant, it's ridiculous the others seem so oblivious to it," Steph rolled her eyes, daintily wiping her fingers off and grabbing a half empty water bottle off the nightstand to drain. A perfect contradiction of uppity and uncaring that only she seemed to pull off.

Marinette could only blink in surprise for a moment before nodding along, "We didn't plan for this," she murmured, half distracted.

"For what?"

"Nothing," she shook her head to clear the thought, "point is.Yes? I mean, we're just really busy and haven't found time and he knows how important this all is to me and even if he doesn't approve, it's not like he can get away to prevent it. Which would make him a total hypocrite if he called me out on it. Honestly, it's not even that bad, I'm catching up on so much now and I'll get to see him soon I'm sure, just as soon as I get through this season and!"

"That's it! I'm staging an intervention! We're finishing this pizza, cleaning you up and then I'm dropping you off at his apartment where you will sleep. Tomorrow the two of you are not leaving the bed until noon at the earliest. No work, only rest. Understood?"

"Noooo, Stephanniiieee, I'm busy!"

"Are you telling me you don't want snuggles?"

"... No."

"Then quit your bitchin, your arguments are lost on me. Now help me with this before I eat it all, itty bitty."

…

It took maybe fifteen minutes to finish the food and get some water down, another twenty to shower and get coerced into wearing cozy black fleece leggings, lavender tank top, and a soft, deep royal purple cardigan, and finally an extra ten minutes to lock up and make it out of the complex.

While Marinette was locked away in the bathroom, Stephanie called up Tim.

"Tell me you're at home. Or can be back in the next fifteen minutes."

"I just walked in?"

"Perfect, I'm dropping Mari off soon. She's like the walking dead right now and that's coming from the Dead Robins Club VP."

"VP…"

"Duh, Jason's the President. Damian's a recruit. Mari's not allowed to become the newbie. She's not even a Robin, it'd make no sense."

"What about Dick and I?"

"You two never actually died, doesn't count."

"Fair… wait, what's going on with ma loutine?"

"When's the last time you slept properly? Or even napped?"

"..."

"So when do you think she last slept or napped?"

"..."

"We'll be there soon."

…

Marinette found herself dragged up to his apartment, the door opening as she was pushed forward into a warm, familiar chest.

Since being dragged from her work, the lack of self care was slowly catching up to her. She hadn't even bothered to pull her hair out of her face, just letting the freshly blow dried fluff fall were it may. She had a vague idea of how they got here, but either way was grateful to find herself warm and held, even if it was in a doorway with the two talking over her head. She caught only snippets: something about not skipping out on each other anymore and a suggestion about living situations that made the body pressed to hers flush. Eventually the two stopped and Stephanie left. A hand pressed to the side of her face and she looked up to Tim who tilted to rest his forehead on hers.

"Hello sweetheart."

"Mon Somnambule," she smiled, eyes closing automatically.

"Think you're beating me there. When have you last slept?"

"Hypocrite."

"That's not an answer."

Mari pouted, not looking like she wanted to answer.

"Have you slept beyond an hour at a time?"

"I can't remember," she admitted.

"Why haven't you slept? You're usually better at self regulation than I am."

"Missed you."

"It's more than that though, isn't it?"

She pulled back and burrowed back into his chest, concentrating on the sound of his heartbeat.

"Couldn't sleep alone. Dark figure stalking me. Brought back bad memories. Became a nonentity for a reason. I do the following now. I make others uncomfortable, observe and toy with them. Not the other way round."

"I took care of that. He won't follow me anymore. You can come back out. But sweetheart, why didn't you call me?"

"Too risky at night with him following you. Too busy during the day. Didn't seem like there was a good time," she admitted.

He frowned, but let it go, gently tugging her arms over his shoulders to clasp behind his neck and placed his hands on the back of her thighs in a prompt to jump up. With her firmly wrapped around him, he made way to his bedroom, sitting down on the edge and pulling back a touch.

"Maybe Steph was right about living situations," he muttered to himself, hushing her when she hummed in confusion.

"Are you comfortable sleeping in that?"

She tugged at the cardigan, accidently getting tangled until he helped her out of it, folding it off to the side. She tucked her face down into the side of his neck and slumped into him completely. Turning them about, he settled her down, curling around her.

"Sleep well, love."

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 25 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hey kiddos! As always, thank you so much for any feedback. You’re the best. Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Long-distance brought challenges to many of our couples.  

This Chapter: In Milan, Trixie agonizes over being apart from Katya. But back home in New York, she’s finding support in Violet’s friendship — at least until Miss Fame throws a wrench in their plans. Elsewhere, Willam continues to work his charms, Adore gets an invitation she can’t refuse and Alaska learns some upsetting news.

***

“Guess who just got an extra round of shots because the bartender thought he had a chance? Me! 1 - 0 for the lesbian.” Pearl laughed as she dumped down next to Trixie, handing her friend a beer as she balanced her tray of free shots in her other hand.

“I love Italians. They’ll literally give you anything you want as long as you’ve got a pair of tits and a smile.”

Trixie looked at Pearl before he sighed and accepted the beer, his phone in his hand. He had been trying to call Katya all day, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t get a hold of her beyond a few quick texts. He was just about to dial her number again when he felt a poke in his stomach.

“Ouch! Pearl, what the fuck?”

“Stop looking so sad! It’s contagious and you’re not allowed to be sad during Fashion Week, so how about you turn that frown upside down, we slam these and I’ll score us some free hotdogs on the way home!”

Pearl smiled, her entire face lit up as her eyebrows wiggled, her good mood making Trixie feel a little better.

“I don’t think they have hotdogs in Milan, Pearlie Girl.”

“Well, then pizza! Gelato! Whatever! Now put that phone away and take a shot with me like a man!”

Pearl was just about to grab the phone from Trixie’s hand, but he stopped her, a serious expression on his face.

“Katya hasn’t responded to any of my calls.”

“Well, if you’re so worried, just ask Violet? She’s such a control freak she probably has a written record of Katya’s last three meals and her sleep schedule.” Pearl leaned back in her chair, taking a long swig from her wine, people all around them moving back and forth, coming and going, but to Pearl they didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that Trixie wasn’t going to party with her, and that wasn’t fair.

“Why are you always so mean to her, Pearlie?”

“I’m not mean, I’m perfectly reasonable.”

“If you say so.” Trixie sighed and crossed his arms, finally taking his first swig of the beer Pearl had gotten for him.

“Katya and I have never gone this long without talking. I haven’t heard from her in almost 24 hours.”

“Bro, let it go.” Pearl sighed, pulling a bit of her hair over her shoulder. “Katya is probably fine; you worry too much.”

“Tell that to my stomach.”

Pearl leaned over, a mischievous smile on her face before she placed both hands on Trixie’s tummy, talking to it as if he was a pregnant woman as she adopted a high-pitched baby voice.

“Hey sweetie, I know you’re confused right now, but don’t worry, you don’t have to worry about your mommy one bit, Auntie Pearl is right here ready to take care of you, and I know exactly what you need, which, is, shoooooots!”

Pearl sat up again, laughing hard when she saw the unhappy scowl on Trixie’s face.

“You’re the worst, Pearl, you know that, right?”

“The absolute worst.”

***

Trixie was in his hotel room, silently cursing Pearl as the blonde was off getting laid, the European chicks absolutely loving her.  Trixie however really needed a bro since he couldn’t get out of his clothes, too drunk for his hands to work properly, even if he had fought his way out of his shirt.

Fashion Week was like an endless party, and he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been at least mildly buzzed or had gotten more than six hours of sleep.

Trixie was battling with getting out of his shoes, his pants already around his ankles as he heard his phone ring and he jumped for it right away, falling onto the bed and swiping right to pick up the call.

“Please be Katya, please be Katya, please be Katya!”

Trixie hadn’t realized he had said any of it out loud, until he heard Katya’s laugh on the other end of the phone, almost making him cry.

“Katya, oh God, it’s really you, I love you so much, please I want to grow old with you and get weird and wrinkly.”

“Are you drunk, baby?”

“Maybe a little.” Trixie looked down at himself: there were stains of pizza sauce on his stomach, and his pants were still around his legs, making it hard for him to move. “But none of that matters because now I’m talking to you! I miss you sooooooo much!”

“I miss you too, I’m sorry I haven’t called…”

“How are you? Are your students okay? How are you, how are you, how are you?”

Trixie was excitedly waiting for Katya’s reply, ready to hear all about how the most important person in his life was doing, but then there was nothing on the other end and Trixie had to check if his phone was actually on.

“Katya? Are you okay? Like… For reals?”

“I...I really fucked up last night,” Katya said, voice small and soft.

“What do you mean?” Trixie asked. “Are you okay?”

“I just...I really wanted a drink, and I thought Pearl might have something, and so I went into her room and I basically tore everything apart looking for a bottle-”

Trixie froze, his heart stopping at Katya’s words.

“I’m coming home right now.”

Trixie was already standing up, fighting with his pants, trying to get them on and then instead stepping out of them, grabbing his backpack, not caring that he was only wearing his underpants and his socks.

“No! Trix! Trix! Please wait.”

“No! I can’t wait! I have to come home!”

“Trixie, please, baby, listen! I didn’t find anything, okay? And like, after a couple of minutes, I was standing in the middle of this fucking mess, holding Pearl’s Hitachi in my hand, digging through her bottom drawer, and I realized how crazy I must have looked.” She let out a dry chuckle.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny. And anyway, I’m okay. I saw Sasha after school today, and then I came home and cleaned everything up. I’m sorry for making you worry...”

Trixie stopped, listening to Katya’s words. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay… I promise. I talked to Violet, and we’re gonna have a slumber party this week, so don’t worry. You don’t have to come home, everything is fine.”

Trixie fell back into bed, the sudden burst of energy only making him more nauseous, the entire room spinning.

“What did Sasha say?” Trixie liked Katya’s therapist. She was calm and warm and extremely perceptive, with a lovely sense of humor. If she thought Katya was okay, then he’d feel a hell of a lot better.

“She thinks that I’m being too hard on myself, and that I just need to try and relax. Which is what I’m doing now. I’m in the bathtub.”

“So...then you’re really okay?” asked Trixie.

“I’m really okay.”

“And you’ll tell me if you’re not?”

“I’ll tell you if I’m not,” Katya echoed.

“Promise?” Trixie asked, sniffling.

“I promise. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too. So, so much.”

***

“So...you gonna tell me why you’ve been pouting all night?” Bianca asked, reaching across the table to stab a penne off Adore’s plate.

“I am not!” Adore said, mouth turning down even more as she screwed up her face.

“Are too,” Bianca said, imitating her childish tone. “What gives?”

Adore scoffed, pushing the pasta around on her plate, making trails of vodka sauce.

“Well…”

“Out with it! Time is money!” Bianca barked.

“Oh sorry, do you have another appointment after this?” Adore asked, taking a big swig of her wine.

“As a matter of fact…” Bianca grinned wickedly, dimples deep in her cheeks.

“That Derrick girl again?”

“No, that’s over,” Bianca said, taking a bite of her salad. “But I met someone at the Michael Kors show, and she’s coming over later.”

The girl from the MK show was a stunning model who she’d previously featured in a couple of editorials for the magazine. A very resourceful young lady, who’d been all too happy to express her gratitude in the back of Bianca’s limo after the reception. But Adore didn’t need those details.

“Ugh, great. I can’t even get a call back, and my big sister’s having late night booty calls.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, kiddo. I’ve been having late night booty calls since you were in diapers.”

Adore heaved a big, put-upon sigh.

“So...who’s not calling you back?” Bianca asked.

“No one…”

“Uh-huh.” Bianca took a sip of wine. White, so as not to stain her mouth before the aforementioned booty call. “Anyone I know?”

“Maybe.” Adore stuffed a piece of garlic bread into her mouth.

“Are you not telling me because you know I’ll disapprove?”

“...maybe.”

Bianca rolled her eyes. "Why can't you date someone who's not an asshole?"

“She’s not an asshole. At least, I don’t think she is. She’s just busy. She’s in Milan this week, I think.”

“Eww,” Bianca’s face scrunched up in disgust.  “She works in fashion?”

“You work in fashion.”

“Exactly! That’s how I know,” Bianca said.

“Whatever,” Adore said, face still a stormcloud.

“Listen...why don’t you come with me to Paris next week? It’ll be fun, and you can meet a sexy French girl to help you forget about whatever bitch is treating you like shit.”

“Are you serious?” Adore asked.

“Yeah, why not? I mean, when you’re not whining, you’re pretty decent company.”

“Awww, thanks, B!” Adore scrambled over to Bianca’s side of the booth and threw her arms around her neck. “We’re flying first, right? With lie-flat seats?”

“Is there any other way to fly?” Bianca replied with a wink.

“I love you, you bougie cunt,” Adore giggled.

“Shut up and eat your dinner, punk.”

***

“Hey Jinkx?”

“Mmh?”

Alaska smiled at the redhead in front of her. Alaska and Jinkx were in Alaska’s office, the remains of their lunch in a trashcan, two cups of tea on her desk as the two friends sat in Alaska’s plush chairs, the computer playing one of Lily Allen’s first albums.

“Why did the blonde put lipstick on her forehead?”

“Why?” Jinkx cracked an eye open. Alaska was slowly working on filling in the other woman’s eyebrows. Jinkx had texted Alaska that morning, asking her friend if she would help her with her makeup for a theater reception she was going to later that day.

“She was trying to make, up, her mind.”

“Oh my God!”

Alaska wheezed as tears gathered in her eyes at the look of absolute outrage on Jinkx’s face. Jinkx’s anger was always the funniest thing and a true testament to her skills as a pun master, which was why Alaska continued to tease her red-haired friend.

Alaska picked up her brushes again and began to work on  Jinkx’s eyes, slowly covering her lids with shades of gold to compliment her warm brown eyes before moving on to liner.

Alaska had always found Jinkx beautiful: she loved the small gap in Jinkx’s front teeth, loved her soft red curls and round cheeks, loved the cute little cleft in Jinkx’s chin that she knew the other woman was incredibly self-conscious about.

Alaska ran a hand down Jinkx’s face, gently caressing the other’s cheek as she waited for the lash glue to get tacky, enjoying how doing the other’s makeup gave her an excuse to touch her. There was a comfortable silence while she worked, touching her up here and there before finally fixing her lashes on. Finally, Alaska drew back, satisfied with the final look.  

“There,” she said. “Absolutely stunning, don’t you think?”

Jinkx opened her eyes and looked in the mirror she was holding up. When her face broke into a bright smile, Alaska couldn’t help but feel warm all over.

“I look amazing! You’re a genius, Lasky.”

“Don’t mention it!”

“No, do mention it.” Jinkx grabbed Alaska’s hand which made a jolt go through the blonde’s body, Jinkx looking Alaska straight in the eyes.

“You’re a true artist, a great artist.”

Alaska was just about to open her mouth, just about to say what was on her mind, when the door to her office opened, Jinkx released her hand and Alaska felt her heart drop.

“Hey Alaska, are you in here? Kim didn’t know if you were back from your lunch.”

Alaska looked up to see Ivy peeking in through the door, a big stack of boxes in her hand.

“Oh!” Ivy looked back and forth between the two women, an apologetic smile on her face as soon as she realized she had walked in on something. “I’m sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I’ll just leave these with Kim and call you later!” Ivy flashed one last bright smile before she closed the door behind her.

“Jinkx… There’s something I have to… Jinkx, are you listening to me?”

Jinkx was still looking at the door where Ivy had just left, her face flushed as she was practically staring.

“That… That was her, that was her, the girl I’ve been telling you about, that was the angel from Fashion Week who waved at me! You have to tell me her name!”

Alaska felt her stomach drop all the way to the floor. Fuck.

***

ADORE: Hey

ADORE: Hope ur having fun in Milano.

ADORE: So, I’m gonna be in Paris next week with my sister. Maybe we can chill

ADORE: Or, you know, whatever

PEARL: Sounds cool ;)

Adore clutched the phone to her chest, curled in bed, nearly giddy with happiness. She didn’t care that Pearl was playing a bit hard to get. All she cared about was that they were about to be together for a week in the most romantic city in the world.

***

“Cheers,” Courtney said, holding up her glass with a grin.

“Cheers…” Willam clinked his glass with hers. They were sitting together in a cozy booth for a rare mid-week date. Apparently, with Miss Fame in Europe, Courtney was expected to be at the office before dawn, but the upside was that she got to leave a little early in the evenings.

Willam certainly wasn’t complaining. Playing the doting boyfriend via text was tough--he was constantly second-guessing himself and could never tell how she was responding. He felt better in person, where he could see Courtney’s physical reactions to the things he said. Really putting those improv classes in college to excellent use.

The good news was, he was pretty damn sure that he had her, hook line and sinker. The way her eyes glittered in the candlelight, the way she slid closer to him, tilting her chin up…

Shit.

Willam knew that when he came up with this plan, that he’d eventually have to touch a girl. But he was really trying to postpone it as much as possible.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, making Courtney jump slightly. “I just got a great idea!”

“What?” Courtney asked, head tilted coyly.

“I have this friend from college, Sam, who runs an open mic night in the village. We should go. You should sing something!”

“I’m...how did you know I sing?” Courtney asked.

“Uh, I heard you last Saturday, singing along at the concert. You have an amazing voice,” Willam said. He flashed a big smile at her for good measure.

“Oh,” Courtney said, looking up at him with starry eyes. “Really?”

God, she was so easy. Her dream of being a recording artist was just about the most obvious thing in the world for anyone with her FaceBook profile. He’d barely needed to research at all to figure that one out.

“Absolutely,” Willam said. “I think you’re a star.”

Courtney took a long sip of her wine, deep in thought.

“You know, the truth is…” Courtney paused, biting her lip. “Ummm…”

“What? You can tell me,” Willam assured her, taking one her her hands in his. The sad reality was that in order to have any chance at something juicy about Galactica, he had to listen to a lot of crap. Because Courtney loved to talk, maybe more than anyone he’d ever met.

“Well, when I first got to New York, I had this idea that I was gonna get a part in a Broadway show, or...or some other job as a singer. I went on all these open calls. Every single one I could. Broadway, music videos, back-up singers, anything. But…”

“Yeah? What happened?”

Courtney deflated, her eyes cloudy with tears as she shook her head.

“Nothing happened. I never got past the first rounds, never made it to the real auditions. One of the dance captains pulled me aside one day and said that if I wanted to be competitive, I needed way more dance lessons. So I’ve been trying to do that, but it’s really expensive and ever since I started at this Galactica job, it’s even harder to make it work with my schedule. And I mean, I still write music and I still want to be a singer or an actress someday but…”

“It’ll happen,” Willam said kindly, patting her on the shoulder. “You gotta believe in yourself.”

“I don’t know.” Courtney’s shoulders sagged, eyes big and sad as she gazed up at him, lip trembling. “I’ve never told anyone this, but sometimes...sometimes I worry that if I was really talented enough, something would already have happened. You know? Maybe...maybe I’m just not good enough. Maybe I’ll never be good enough.”

Willam cleared his throat. Shit, what the fuck was he supposed to say to all that?

“Listen,” he began. “You are destined for amazing things; I know it. You just gotta keep going, keep trying, and someday, everyone will see the greatness that I do. I swear it.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” Willam promised, watching her eyes tear up some more. “Now, come on. Let’s get over to that open mic and show them what a real superstar looks like.”

“You know...I’ve never dated anyone as supportive and kind as you…” Courtney said, twirling her wine glass.

Willam smiled again, trying to push down the guilty feeling creeping into his stomach. This would be a lot easier if she wasn’t so damn sweet.

“Well...you deserve it, babe.”

***

“Sit still.”

“I am-” Katya smiled, wiggling her fingers again, the nail polish wand hitting her skin.

“Katya!” Violet gasped. “Look at your hand-” Violet reached for a cotton ball, gently removing the polish, the cold liquid feeling nice.

“Sorry.” Katya smirked. She knew it wasn’t very kind of her, but it was impossible not to mess at least a little with Violet.

The two of them were sitting on her couch, both of them in pajamas, Katya’s hand resting on Violet’s knee as she was slowly and carefully painting her nails a deep red.

They had eaten dinner together, Violet letting Katya pick a movie without any fight at all, which Katya had found a little weird. Normally it took hours of negotiation to get anyone to watch ‘The Princess Bride’, but Violet had simply agreed right away, almost like she didn’t have an opinion on it.

“You’re not sorry at all-” Violet giggled, and Katya felt her heart warm at the sound.

“I’m not.” It felt a little wrong to tease Violet, but the other took obvious delight in it, so Katya didn’t feel too bad. She was grateful that Violet had agreed to this little sleepover, spending time with a friend so much better than being alone.

It wasn’t that Katya couldn’t be on her own, wasn’t that she was incapable of keeping her demons down, but it was easier with someone around, easier to focus on Violet and her smile, the other woman absolutely hilarious in her dry commentary and snarky sense of humor.

Katya didn’t like her apartment being empty, couldn’t find peace when there wasn’t the putter of others around her. It was part of the reason she had never kicked up a fuss about the fact that Pearl still lived with them. It made her feel calm when she could hear Pearl in the kitchen, when there was the clink of beers in the living room when her and Trixie played games together, even Pearl’s parade of girls had their own strange comfort.

Usually, with the Galactica team in Europe, she’d have relied more on Kim and Shangela. But with Kim working on a commercial for the new makeup line and Shangie distracted by the honeymoon bliss of a new relationship, she really would have been alone had it not been for Violet.

“Maybe you should choose the next movie,” Katya offered. “What do you want to watch? What’s your favorite?”

“Let’s just watch whatever you want,” Violet smiled, “I don’t mind.”

Katya leaned against Violet’s shoulder. She was a strange little bird, indeed. But Katya was infinitely happy to have found her.

***

“Hello?”

Violet tried to not croak, her voice heavy with sleep. She had no idea what time it was. She was sleeping in Katya’s bed with the blonde’s head resting on her shoulder. When she attempted to make her exit last night, Katya had looked like a kicked puppy, so she decided to stay in spite of it being a work night.

“Violet?!”

Violet sat up, Katya making a surprised noise as she was unceremoniously dumped down on the bed.

“Miss? Is everything alright?” Violet was completely awake, adrenaline coursing through her blood.

“The breakfast at this hotel is absolutely horrid. They gave me what is clearly a kale juice when I specifically requested spinach.”

“I’m sorry Miss,” Violet swallowed, Fame sounding genuinely upset. “I’ll call the concierge immediately, do you want me to-”

“I don’t want you to call anyone.”

“Oh? Umh, should I email-”

“No. I want you to pack your things-”

Violet froze, wondering for a moment if Fame was going to fire her over a mistake a chef in Italy had made.

“Book yourself a flight, and meet me in Paris.”

“Paris-  How?”

“Figure it out.”

Violet couldn’t believe what she had just heard, but before she could even finish her sentence, Fame had hung up, the phone beeping in her ear.

“Shit.” Violet looked down, Katya lying next to her, the blonde wide awake.

“Katya?” Violet reached out, gently touching Katya’s hair.

“Mmh?”

Violet could see that Katya was trying to be brave, what little she could see in the shadows of night painted with worry.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Fine. I’m totally fine. Super fine.”

“Katya-” Violet wasn’t the most emotionally observant person, but Katya was clearly winding herself up, almost like she was afraid to lose it, and that was when she had an idea. “How difficult would it be for you to take a few days off?” Violet ran her hand through Katya’s hair.

“I could work something out, make sub plans-” Katya bit her lip. “Why?”

“Do you happen to speak French?”

[rochnariel]

Critical Bakes - Nott/Veth Week

When @criticalbakes​ released this week’s prompt, I immediately reviewed what alcohol we had in the house (and what other supplies. quarantine is a bitch when no one has open delivery spots), and we came up with this spread: whiskey bacon hamburger (with homemade bread bun cause that’s what a tiny tavern would have. not because we have no hamburger buns in the house), bread pudding with a brandy sauce (and the leftover raspberry curd from last week), and a moonshine drink (because someone must be making their own alcohol in these tiny towns and nott would probably love it).  

Yeah we apparently had a decent amount of alcohol in the house….

(and that’s not including the wine. maybe we’ll revisit that when beau week comes around) 

Recipes, such as they are, under the cut. I did my best to give actual measurements because I never measure anything when I cook. Baking, especially finicky macarons, is different which is why last week had actual weights.

Whiskey Bacon Hamburger

1 lb of ground beef

 Salt

Pepper

Garlic powder

Onion powder

Paprika

Cheddar cheese

4 strips of bacon cut in half

½ cup whiskey

1/8 cup brown sugar

1 tsp Worcestershire sauce

Buns

I know, I promise ingredient amounts and then I don’t give amounts for any of the burger spices. But I really have no idea.

Anyway, make your favorite hamburger recipe. I use ground beef and the spices listed above. Use your hands to mix the spices in making sure to now compress the ground beef too much. It can make the burgers tougher if you do. Form into patties. Since this was the only day we were eating this, I made ½ pound patties.

For the whiskey cause, cut the bacon in half and cook in a heavy skillet over medium high heat. Once bacon is done, remove from the pan and set aside on paper towel to drain.

Add brown sugar to the pan and cook for approximately 3 minutes. If you have onions at home (and like them), you can add onion before the brown sugar and cook those down before adding the brown sugar.

Add the whiskey, Worcestershire sauce and pepper. Cook down for another 2-3 minutes until it forms a thick sauce for your burgers.

Cook your hamburgers however you like to whatever doneness you like. Since it is actually snowing here again, I cook might in a skillet over medium high heat on the stovetop until they were medium-well. 150 degrees on the inside.

(if you cook meat and you don’t have an instant read thermometer, i suggest it. it’s an easy way to know for certain that whatever you’re cooking is done and done how you like. no worries about undercooked meat. no overcooking things because you’re afraid it isn’t done. no cutting into it and trying to see if it is done. and they’re pretty cheap)

Assemble your burger and eat. We’ve got bacon, whiskey sauce, and cheese on our rustic bread.

(if anyone is curious about the bread recipe, let me know. it’s a no knead baguette recipe that you make and toss in the fridge and then pull out and shape as needed. dough lasts about a week in the fridge)

Note: I made the sauce with way too much brown sugar. It was a new recipe and I didn’t trust my instincts. That’s why it looks funny in the picture. I changed the amount for this recipe.

Bread Pudding with a Brandy Sauce

Loaf of challah or other soft bread, cut into 1 inch-ish cubes and left to dry over the course of a few hours or two days….

8 eggs

4 cups milk

½ cup butter

½ cup brown sugar

1 tablespoon cinnamon

1 tsp nutmeg

¼ tsp ground cloves

¼ tsp all spice

2 tsp vanilla

1 cup brown sugar

½ cup butter

2 tablespoons cream (or milk if you still have no cream)

¼ cup brandy (or more if you want more alcohol)

Heat the milk and ¼ cup butter in a saucepan over medium heat until the butter is melted.

In another bowl mix the eggs, ½ cup brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, all spice, vanilla, and cloves (and raspberry curd if you happen to have some) until well combined. Add the hot milk mixture slowly mixing the whole time in order to not cook the eggs.

In a casserole dish, dump in the bread and spread into an even layer. Pour the milk and egg mixture over it. Cover tightly with aluminum foil.

Bake at 375 for 45 minutes or until a knife stabbed into the dish comes away mostly clean.

Remove from oven and set aside.

In a heavy saucepan, heat the 1 cup brown sugar, ½ cup butter, cream, and brandy until everything is dissolved and combined evenly.

Pour over the warm bread pudding.

Eat! (clearly the most important step)

Moonshine Cocktail

2 shots blackberry moonshine

1 ½ cups-ish chokecherrry tea (cold)

Pour together.

Mix.

Drink!

btw this is chokecherry tea. its apparently a north dakota thing. i think. i don’t know. my friend there sends it to me.

feel free to message me if you have questions. although i am out of quarantine and back on the road in a few days, so it might take me a bit to respond.

[laylacooke]

The Kids Aren’t Alright || Graham, Frankie, & Layla

timing: Friday (5/29), after the stuff with Celeste (RIP) goes down. parties: @grahamstoker, @offrankies, & @laylacooke summary: Layla finds a temporary new home with Frankie & Graham, after Ulf texts her. 

As soon as Frankie had given Layla the okay to come over, she grabbed some clothes, turned off the lights at Ulfs, and locked up. With one of Ari’s old backpacks, she took off running through the woods. With what Simon had told her, the phone call from Winn’s mother, and now Winn being back in the picture, Layla’s mind was racing. As she reached Frankie and Graham’s place, she stopped to take a breath. Climbing the stairs, she found her way to their door giving it a good swift knock. Tears lingered in her eyes, and she just wanted to hug her girlfriend. Unusually for Graham, he was a little… nervous wasn’t the right word but it was a mingling feeling of irritation and what felt like a memory repressed under a heavy weight. Uuuugh. He took another swig of his tasteless beer, lounged in his familiar position on his couch similarly to when Frankie first knocked on his door when, sure, enough, he heard knocking again. Guh, he really wished she was here so he wouldn’t have to deal with whatever drama was sure to follow the redhead, like a parasite clinging to a family of seven in a haunted house or some shit. He lazily got to his feet and went over to answer the door, bright blue eyes quickly falling on the shorter girl who honestly looked like she’d had a tough time; hair frazzled from the wind, tears on her face. “Uh…” He faltered right out the gate for a moment before recovering and he stepped aside to allow her entry. “Hey. Frankie said you were coming.”

When the door opened, it wasn’t who Layla had expected to see. It had slipped her mind that Frankie was probably still at work. Right. She was at work. She had even mentioned it. But with Graham standing there, a knot had tied itself in her stomach. She knew how he felt about her, and the feelings had been mutual. However, right here, right now, was her only option, and instead of hesitating, she stepped inside, “Look, if I could’ve stayed back home, I would have, but apparently it’s not safe, and Frankie was the first person I could think of. I won’t bother you, and we won’t make any noise tonight, because I’m not really in the mood for anything, just a bed.”

To his relative relief, she had entered so Graham crossed out “dragging a teenage girl kicking and screaming into his house under the pretense of making sure she wasn’t out on the street for the night” off his list. Jesus that was a mental mouthful. “Yeah, I have no idea what’s going on,” He remarked as he closed the door behind her with enough grace that it didn’t appear as though he were trapping her inside - young wolf. Probably skittish. Emotionally compromised… be nice. “But I imagine it sucks if you’re here.” He replied, going over to his kitchen as he motioned towards Frankie’s room. “Her room’s over that way if you wanna go straight there - it smells like her so you might feel better,” He said without thinking so he added “ER do you want anything to, like, drink?”

Layla’s eyes went towards the direction of the room when he had motioned to it. She could smell Frankie’s scent all over the apartment, and it was already calming her nerves. His question drew her attention back on him, “Water, if you don’t mind. Thanks.” She quietly walked towards the girl’s bedroom and tossed her backpack down in a nearby corner. If Frankie didn’t insist, she sleep in the bed, Layla was going to her safe space. Going back into the other room, she met Graham in the kitchen, “Uh, thanks for letting me stay here.” While Layla became familiar with the environment, Graham pulled out a plastic cup - he wasn’t sure if her uncasted hand would have enough strength to break a glass - and filled it with cold water from his fridge. He honestly had no idea how it came to this, specifically. “Ain’t no big,” He replied casually, offering out the cup of water to her. “You can get comfy wherever,” He motioned to the couch. “You hot, cold? You run hot, don’t you?” He asked, knowing she wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but he would be damned if he was going to sit in awkward silence until Frankie got home. “I knew a girl with red hair; she ALWAYS complained about it being hot and I’m like ‘woman it’s 66 degrees in here’,” He chuckled - she was probably emotionally heated up, too. Looked like he wasn’t getting that warmth tonight. “Y’know, I don’t actually think I caught your name,” He mentioned from down the hall as he adjusted the thermostat. 

She accepted the cup of water and walked back to the living room, where he had suggested. Taking a seat, she took a sip of water as she listened to Graham continue to talk. It was surprising not hearing him bitch her out and call her a moody teenager looking for attention. The last thing she had wanted to do was argue with the man - er vampire. She had smelled one other person like that not too long ago, “Layla. It’s Layla.” She bypassed everything else. And instead of looking at Graham, she looked at the tv, “Is this that doctor show where everybody says seriously all the time?” She took another sip of water. “Huh? Oh, I don’t fuckin’-- Maybe,” Graham gave a small shrug, noting her name. “I was just flipping through the channels. One day. ONE day… there might be something different on.” He said with that tone of obvious longing. Maybe someone could curse his cable to give him exciting shit to watch. “Doctor shows are nnnot my preferred method of entertainment,” He admitted. “God the ol’ hemophobia; blood squicks me out,” He lied. “You can change it,” He suggested, getting another beer out of the fridge. “I also got, like a shit-ton of DVDs over there. I dunno when Frankie’ll get back but… Well, whatev’s.” He opened his beer and leaned against the same wall he had when Frankie came over, almost feeling as though this was a parallel. It was odd.

Layla took another slow drink of water as she listened, “I haven’t watched much tv, so I don’t really know what’s on anymore. I think the last time I watched something was with my friend Celeste.” Her mind lingered on the howl and the way it had carried all the way out into the woods and to her ears. It was heartbreaking, and she was worried it had been Ariana, even though Simon had told her otherwise. “I don’t think I’ll be up long enough, but thanks. If you want your couch back, I can go to Frankie’s room.” She looked over at the man, before looking down into the half full cup of water. 

He gave a half-assed wave. “Nah girlie, you’re good. I have a chair--” Graham pointed off to a wicker chair that sat comfortably in the corner with a modern bookshelf next to it. “But it’s fine. Am I hovering? My bad.” On that note, he took another drink and went into the kitchen once more, pretending to look through his fridge and cabinets like he was looking for something, but none-too-urgently. “Man, when I was your age, I’d have been out drinkin’ and have a GOOD ol’ time with friends,” He explained into his cabinet-- WELP, found the garlic. He recoiled and slapped a hand over his mouth as if it would stop the fangs from coming out but… “But, uh… I’m guessing you and Frankie are a little short on drinking buddies right about now,” He said, still facing his kitchen though with a slightly more recognizable lisp.

Frankie hated lying. It was probably one of the few things that she struggled to do as she spoke, and damn, she talked a lot. And even though she thought she had nailed faking a fever to convince Al to let her leave work early, deep down she knew that the man just didn’t care enough to force her to stay. The girl drove back to the apartment as fast as possible, rushing up the stairs and fumbling when she took the keys off her jacket, a slightly difficult task since her bike helmet was under her arm. She managed to open the door, and the first thing she noticed was Graham rummaging through the fridge with… were those his fangs? Her eyes opened wide and lips parted, partly to yell in excitement and partly to yell at him to leave her food alone, but she stopped herself when she noticed her girlfriend from the corner of her eye. Frankie’s mouth hung open for a moment, her brain processing what to do. “My two loves!” A smile decorated her expression as she gave Graham a look- they were definitely talking about this later- and then walked up to Layla. “He didn’t bother you too much did he?”

Layla hadn’t been paying any attention to Graham, except for maybe the random lisp that started happening, but even then, she shrugged it off. What she wouldn’t do for a drink right now. Or those two random pills that creepy Blaine guy had left for her just a few nights ago. But what she had really wanted was answers. Was Ariana okay? Was Celeste okay? Ulfric had clearly been fine since he was the one that had been in touch with her. Layla hadn’t even noticed when Frankie came through the door, and when she spoke, the teenager jumped, sending water flying everywhere. Covered in room temperature water, she blinked a few times before looking over to Frankie, “What? No, he’s been nice.” Sighing, she started to brush the little drops of pooling liquid off of herself, “How was work?”

He had picked up Frankie’s steps rapidly ascending the stairs and Graham turned his head slightly to regard her when she entered but felt himself frowning when he caught the look she gave him. Loves? Nnno no no-- Aaaand Layla just got water everywhere. He inhaled deeply though he didn’t have to, remembering that was a human way to calm down. It’s fine, she was just surprised. It’s water-- EXCUSE HIM? “Yeah!” He exclaimed in agreement to how Layla responded to Frankie’s question, all but abandoning the idea of hiding his fangs as he turned and leaned against the island in his kitchen pointedly. “I’ve been an ANGEL,” He remarked hotly though his tone conveyed the clear message that he wasn’t actually angry. “Wow, you been home for nine and a half seconds and you’re already being sassy,” he flipped his hand as if flipping long hair that wasn’t there and he snatched up his bottle. “Fine. Fine, I can see when I’m not wanted. Welcome home, brat.” He turned to look between the two of them as he paused at the entry of the hall. “It’s okay to be emotional or whatever but don’t be breakin’ any part of my house,” He pointed from one to the other. With that, he gave the two of them a wave. “I didn’t BITE her!” He called before closing his bedroom door behind him.

She had to press her lips together to avoid giggling at Layla’s surprise, and instead of joining her at the couch, she turned to wiggle into the kitchen with Graham, taking the dish towel so her girlfriend could use something to dry herself with. “I’m only sassy because you make me sassy, Grammy.” If she could say the emoticon “:/” out loud to him, she would’ve done it, but instead Frankie just stuck her tongue out to him as he walked to his room. “Love youuuuu~” She managed to yell at him before he closed the door, and a soft sigh escaped her lips immediately afterwards. She tried to play it as if things were okay to try to get Layla into a happier mindset, but with the man out of the room it seemed impossible. The black that replaced her girlfriend’s usually light blue with yellow splatters scared her; not in the way Dr. Kavanagh’s screeching aura had scared her days before, but rather because it had been so long since she had seen Layla sad she just... didn’t know what to do; what to say. Silently, she made her way towards the other girl, her hands playing with the fabric before she sat down next to her, softly drying the drops that had landed on her face. The sound of leaves distracted her a little, but doctor tv shows were dumb and she wasn’t about to question the producer’s choice of ambience sounds.  “Work was okay.” She replied, trying not to look too distracted with the colors dancing around Layla. “I, uhm, already can tell, but-- How are you feeling?”

The cup was pretty much empty, but she downed the last little sip and sat it on the floor. The banter between Frankie and Graham hadn’t gone unnoticed. It appeared she was happy here and that gave Layla some relief. Frankie deserved to be happy and to live somewhere where she had felt safe, especially considering all the darkness that seemed to loom over White Crest. Darkness that seemed to follow her around since she had gotten here, except for the occasional enjoyable memory she had made. Watching Graham leave the room and Frankie return, Layla tried to perk up some, but couldn’t. And she leaned into the towel as Frankie dried off the drops of water. Swallowing thickly, she spoke up, “Scared. I heard a howl like that one other time, since I’ve been here, but this felt different. And then some other stuff happened today. Stuff...I can’t talk about. Sometimes I just think I should’ve kept running, instead of trying to make a new life for myself here. But then I know I probably never would have seen you again or met Ariana, Celeste, and Ulf. And the other wolves.” She had opened up to Frankie more than she had realized, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...I feel like we haven’t just had a moment to ourselves, since that day in the park. How’ve you been? It feels weird not seeing you every day knowing that you’re just across town.”

Frankie silently listened as her girlfriend rambled, softly pressing the towel against her neck and eventually clothes once her skin was dry. It was hard to keep eye contact with her, which had never been an issue before. It made sense since their lives in Nashville weren’t a tenth of exciting (or terrifying, for that matter) as they were here; but now, Layla’s aura swirled around her with a sea of colors - predominantly black, but now that she was close she could distinguish a soft purple and a deep red that flowed around her like almost invisible veins--- and just as she had discovered them, they were quickly washed away by a sudden blue which made Frankie stop her chore, a worried look on her face. “Hey hey hey-- Don’t apologize.” Her hand with the towel dropped to her lap, and her free hand cupped her face like she’d done it so many times. Her tone was soft, trying to stop Layla from shutting herself in. “I’m okay, and I’m here, and that’s all that matters. We have our whole lives to have moments, but right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.” A sad smile tugged the corner of her mouth, and she leaned forward to place a small kiss on her nose, her forehead now against hers. It was easier to ignore her aura that way. “You know you can tell me anything. What happened?”

How did she deserve this woman? She knew Frankie had to have been tired from her shift at Al’s, and here Layla was, sitting on her couch in a daze. She definitely wasn’t the same girl Frankie had known in Nashville. Being on her own, which should have made her tougher in theory, had made her weak. Her eyes focused on something other than her girlfriend, she spoke, “Everything. Leaving home. Leaving you. Coming here. And now, when I start to open up my heart again, everything feels wrong.” She let her eyes shift and focus on Frankie, “I’m so grateful you’re here, but maybe sending you that video was a bad idea. I-I can’t lose you too.” The howl she had heard earlier had felt like a warning of death. It echoed in her brain, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of it. “Is it okay if I go lay down? I’m just tired, and I think once I sleep, things will be better.”

“Don’t say that. Opening up is hard and especially now that it’s… hard to know who to trust.” Frankie’s tone was soft as she cupped her face, her brows slightly furrowed. The deep blue around Layla pushed her to ask more - She needed to press further and know what was bothering her, otherwise her aura wouldn’t go back to its usual color. But she couldn’t. So, distracting her it was. “I’m not going anywhere, and you’re sure as hell not going anywhere either, because now that I know that you wolves are a thing, I can track you down even more easily.” Her lower lip was softly pressed between her teeth, a few seconds passing before she nodded in defeat, moving away from the red-haired girl. She felt useless, and even a little frustrated, but if Layla needed space to clear her head, that’s what she was getting. “Yes, sure, you don’t need to ask. I’ll just... eat something and take a shower before I join you in bed, yeah?” 

She cherished every moment spent with Frankie, even if it didn’t seem like it. The way her hands felt on Layla’s face. The way she spoke to her with a gentle tone. Everything she took in praying she would never lose it again, “You’ve got a point. Those wolves do have pretty good noses.” She tried to offer up a sense of humor and a light smile, but, she just wanted to lay down and sleep all her problems away. She could tell Frankie was frustrated though, and she wanted to be a better girlfriend. The girl that Frankie had come to know over the years, but it was hard, at least at that very moment. Gently grabbing her arms, she pulled Frankie’s hands down and laid a soft kiss on her lips, before giving them a small squeeze and getting up from the couch. Going to the girl’s room, she shut the door and found her place in the darkest, tiniest corner and snuggled up pulling the hood up over her head settling in.

Silently, Frankie watched Layla leave the room, letting out a shaky sigh once she heard go down the hallway. Realistically speaking, there was nothing she could do if Layla herself had no idea what was happening, so maybe a night cuddled up together was the best way to comfort her girlfriend. Several minutes passed, if not a whole hour, and the teen hadn’t moved from her seat, not really in the mood to do all the things she had told Layla she’d do. The least thing she felt right now was appetite, and a fresh shower could wait til the morning. Eventually, Frankie reluctantly stood up, not before wiping her hands on her face, mostly to clear her mind off things, and turned off the lights of the living room. She dragged her feet towards her room, but instead walked past it, standing outside Graham’s room. One of the things she had learned the bad way was that vampires didn’t sleep, and that they had supernatural hearing, so she didn’t need to open the door to talk when she didn’t want to. “Please wake me up if you hear anything weird.” The thought of Layla suddenly leaving during the night terrified her, and even though she had joked about now being easier to find her, she couldn’t put herself through that heartbreak again. Without waiting for a reply, Frankie walked back to her room, stopping on her tracks when she saw the other girl sitting on the floor. Tears flooded her eyes as she approached, kneeling to her side. “Babe.” Her voice was soft, and she didn’t touch her to not scare her awake. “Babe. Come lay on the bed with me.”

Layla had finally fallen asleep. It had taken a while, but her body, exhausted emotionally and physically, allowed her some relief. Her dreams hadn’t been pleasant though, taking her on a journey through her mind, leaving her flinching and kicking like a dog in its sleep. It was the smell, followed by Frankie’s voice and touch that woke her up, “Huh?” Looking around, she saw the women kneeling next to her. With heavy eyes and grogginess plaguing her body, she slowly moved to the bed and climbed into it. The floor had been her safe place for so long, but with Frankie by her side again, she was hoping sleep would come easy, if she wasn’t kicking or moaning like she often did. 

Frankie helped Layla climb on the bed, not bothering to put on pajamas before she snuggled behind her, an arm under her head and the other wrapped around her waist, playing big spoon like she’d had so many times in the past. The heat radiating from her girlfriend was new and made her decide against covering themselves with a blanket. She hoped this would be enough to, at least, make Layla forget about everything for as long as she slept. The uncomfortable fabric of her jeans could wait, and without noticing when, surrounded by the smell of Layla’s hair against her face, Frankie dozed off.

[wiggly-blue-shite]

You’ll Always Have Me

Lex X Ethan fanfic with a lot of Hannah protection.

This is the first time Ethan and Hannah have ever met. (3400-ish words Jesus Christ)

Hannah sits next to me on the bed. She’s watching some cartoon. Her eyes are glazed over. She isn’t watching. Her eye twitches. I love my sister but I just don’t understand her. She’s just a little kid but sometimes she says things I just don’t understand. I hoped that the things people say about her isn’t true, but when she talks about Black and White, the spider that talks to her, I just don’t know.

Hannah shudders and light returns to her eyes.

“You okay, Banana?”

“Something is coming.” She looks scared. She pushes her head into my shoulder. My arm moves around her subconsciously.

A loud noise comes from the outside of the trailer. It’s two voices. I can distinctly hear Mom’s voice slurring words together. The other voice is deep and unfamiliar.

She brought someone else home from that dirty ass bar. Hannah can’t be here, not right now. Or ever for that fucking matter. Mom had one job that was just to take care of us. I can’t have her be here anymore.

“Get behind me.” I stand up and head towards the door. I don’t want her to see any of this. “Close your eyes… please.” My hand is shaky. I light a cigarette and wait.

The door opens. It’s so creaky, we, well I can’t afford oil to stop it from squeaking. Hannah grabs my left hand. I hate that she’s scared. I hate that I am scared too.

Mom stumbles up the stairs. She looks at me and Hannah. I know she can see Hannah. She must know that she is scared. She has to know that she is hurting her. She’s just a fucking kid. A tear rolls down on my cheek.

“Hi girls.” She’s so close to me I can smell the cheap fucking booze on her breath.

“Hi mom.” We make eye contact. I hate that she can see me crying. Hannah squeezes my hand. How is she so smart?

“We’re going to Deb’s house. Have fun.” I try to make my voice as harsh as possible. I want her to see. Is it to much to ask?

I pull Hannah with me outside, grabbing the sleeping bag I keep near the door. I keep walking until I know that she isn’t coming after us. She’s not going to apologize. She’s not going to try.

I sit down with Hannah at one of the picnic tables in the trailer park. I try to blow the smoke away from her. I don’t want her breathing in too much.

Lexington: Hey my moms being a bitch can me and Hannah hang there

Deborino: oh shit. I’m out with Alice we are with her dad

You know how he feels about me this needs to go well

Lexington: FUCK okay you go get your girl and her dad I guess

“What’s wrong?” Hannah keeps her voice hushed. She’s just watching me. She looks cold. That jacket is thin but I can’t get her a better one right now.

“We can’t stay at Deb’s.” I don’t trust anyone else in the smoke club enough to watch Hannah with me. Well I guess there’s Ethan.

“Oh.” She pulls on the sides of the jacket. She’s so small.

Lexington: My mom is being my mom can me and my sister crash with you tonight

eThAn: Sure anything you need

Lexington: Thanks ❤️

eThAn: Meeting the sis big step ❤️

Lexington: Oh whatever

eThAn: See ya soon

I flick the cigarette into the ground and grind it under my boot. I stand up. “Come on you’re gonna meet my boyfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend?” She makes a little disgusted face.

“Yes I have a boyfriend you silly banana. Let’s go.” I don’t know if they’ll get along. Ethan is smart but he can be intense. I like Ethan a lot but if Hannah doesn’t like him it’s over. I just need to make sure she’s ok.

“What’s he like?” She grabs my hand. It’s cold.

“You’ll see.” God I hope this goes well. We walk off. We have only each other and this old sleeping bag.

-

Ethan’s place isn’t as close as I thought it was. Well I guess it feels farther because of how dark it is, damn daylight savings. I don’t want Hannah out here when it’s so cold and dark, especially not in this neighborhood.

There are a few people out. A lot of drunks. Hannah holds my arm. Keep your head down, don’t make eye contact, be invisible.

Ethan lives in a small apartment, his parents kicked him out and this was the only place he could afford to live. As far as cheap apartments go it’s nice. There’s a pull out couch the smoke club found at the curb. He’s got a fridge. No tv or microwave, but there’s a heater.

We get outside of the building. There’s a tent city down the street, so I keep Hannah close. The sidewalk smells like piss. The air is hazy with smoke and I can see some bonfires going in the tent city.

Lexington: Here

After a moment Ethan opens the door of the building. He’s wearing ripped jeans that definitely didn’t start out that ripped, an old leather jacket, and one worn down glove. He took his earring out. He’s standing in the doorway arms straight at his side.

“Hey.” He waves a little at Hannah.

“Lets do introductions later, it’s cold as hell.”

“Is hell cold?” Ethan’s eyebrow shoots up, he smirks. I stare back at him. All these jokes are nice but I’m cold. “Ok let’s go.”

The building doesn’t have an elevator but you only use it if you have a death wish. So we climb six stories. There are a few people yelling in an apartment next to the stairwell. Someone gets pushed out the door. I try not to listen to the things that they are yelling. Hopefully they don’t see us. I can here gunshots coming from a couple of blocks away.

Ethan cleaned his apartment. His clothes are in an organized pile. He organized the things on the table. It looks like he tried to wash away a stain in the floor. It looks nice. It’s pretty warm in here.

Once we step in Ethan turns around and looks down at Hannah. He seems to tower over her. “So you must be Hannah Foster.”

She nods. She doesn’t look scared. She looks like she’s studying him.

“I’m Ethan... Green. Ethan Green.” He’s more nervous than she is. I’ve never seen him really nervous before.

“Do you live here by yourself?” The apartment is a lot smaller than the trailer. It’s also dirtier.

“Not a lot of room for anyone else now is there.” He laughs. Hannah doesn’t laugh, but she smiles. It feels like something got lifted off the room.

My stomach growls loudly. I didn’t eat a lot. I didn’t get breakfast. Frank gave me some food at the end of my shift. Weird to think that man is capable of pity. Hannah gets food at school, we’re poor enough to qualify for free breakfast and lunch.

Ethan must have heard. “I have food coming if you guys are hungry.”

Ethan has been jumping from job to job trying to get money any way he can. He can’t afford to get food delivered. He barely has any he money for his rent.

“It’ll be here soon. I’ll go get it.” Ethan is our the door and down the hall before I can ask about how much it cost.

Hannah sits in the couch and I join her. This is way comfortable than the one back in the trailer. Hannah looks around the room. There’s not a lot of decorations, a couple of Ramones posters and a couple of old art projects, all we could salvage before he was kicked out. The floor is warped and the rug is dirty.

“So you’re dating him?” I can’t tell if she’s messing with me or she’s disappointed.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Why does the opinion of a little kid matter to me at all? Even if we’re sisters.

“No, I like him. He cares. Good blood.” She smiles. It’s nice to see her smile. Things might not be going well but she can still fond some happiness.

“I’m glad you like him. You two are really important to me. It’s nice that you can get along.” I smile down at her. She looks back with her giant sad eyes. Even when she’s happy there’s just a little bit of pain in the corners of her eyes.

It’s around 7:45. It’s not a school night so I’m not super concerned about getting her to sleep early. I should have got her dinner earlier though. It was a good thing Ethan got food, even if it cuts into his savings. Growing kids need to eat. Maybe that’s why I’m short.

Ethan opens the door holding a pizza box and something in a brown paper bag. He got a whole pizza. That costs so much. He still needs to pay for rent and basic essentials. But he just walks to the table and sets down the box like he’s made of money.

Hannah shoots up and has pizza in her mouth before I can stand up. It’s still warm despite the fact that it’s cold as hell out. Hannah says that food at her school is usually cold. I’m glad she’s eating something warm.

Ethan opens the paper bag to reveal a little box with the words Garlic Knots on the side. That’s just a waste. He has so little yet he can get something so unimportant.

“How much did this cost?” I think I deserve to know the damage. This effects both of us.

“Does it matter?” Ethan sneaks his arms around my waist. I have to look up to make eye contact. He smiles like nothing matters.

“Yes it fucking does.” I don’t want to be a nag. If thing are ever gonna get better we need to keep the little money we have.

“Can I still eat this?” Hannah manages to say with a mouth full of pizza.

“Yeah, banana.” There’s no point now. You can’t return food.

“Banana?” Ethan‘s eyes light up, his arms fall to his side. “That’s adorable.”

“Don’t change the subject. How much did it cost?” I feel uncomfortable with being this naggy.

“Like twenty bucks.” Ethan says that like it’s not going to cut into his own food supply and gas for that shitty shitty car. “It’s fine. Just eat up.”

“Babe-“

“No just eat.” He grabs a garlic knot and holds it in front of my face. “Taste the garlic.”

I’m not going to laugh because I’m upset. It does look good though. Really good.

“No-“

He puts the garlic knot in my mouth as I am talking. “Eat the food.”

He lets out a little chuckle. I must look like an idiot. I take the knot out of my mouth and let myself laugh.

“Ok ok ok. Just...” it’s nice that he cares but he needs to take care of himself. “You don’t have to spend money on us.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” He smirks and pulls me into his arms. As we kiss I can here Hannah making barfing noises.

“Gross!” Hannah yells at us, “you got garlic mouth!”

Ethan bursts out laughing. I see that I am the most mature in the room. Ethan is literally on the floor. I sure know how to choose them.

“Let’s just eat.” I sit down next to Hannah and finish my garlic knot. I haven’t had good pizza in a while. I think it’s been a while since all of us have had good food.

-

We get mostly through the meal when a loud noise comes from the heater. Ethan checks it.

“Fuck. It’s broken.” He looks annoyed. I’m sure this isn’t the first time this has happened. It sucks that it happens when Hannah is here. The trailer has heat.

I can feel it get colder. Temperature is dropping fast. Stupid thin walls.

“I’m gonna have to fix that. God damnit!” Ethan stares down at the busted machine. Ethan has gotten a lot better at fixing things. Mr. Houston would be proud.

Within 25 minutes Hannah is practically shivering. I swear she’s like a lizard, always cold. I put Ethan’s one good blanket over her. She still looks cold.

I see one of Ethan’s old flannels on the floor. Alice made a joke about it being a gross yellow color and he doesn’t wear it anymore. I hand it to Hannah. She quickly puts it on.

“Looks good. But that’s not going to keep you warm.” Ethan walls back towards the couch. He takes his leather jacket off and puts it around her shoulders. “Any warmer, Hannah banana?”

She smiles and nods. She’s content once she’s stolen every warm thing from the apartment.

“You can keep the flannel if you’d like.” Ethan has a weird look in his eye. Like some weird fatherly instinct has just kicked in.

“It’s so big!” The sleeves completely cover her hands.

“I can shrink it when I was the clothes.” Laundry is my responsibility, so it won’t be too difficult. I’ve shrunk plenty of clothing on accident. Doing it on purpose will be easy.

Ethan turns back to the heater. Goosebumps are visible on his arm. He smiles at me and winks.

“I’ll be fine.” He grabs an older torn up blanket a puts it around himself. He squats down to look at the heater, taking out a Swiss Army knife as his only tool other than his hands.

I kiss the top of his head, “Thank you.”

-

I throw the empty pizza box away. Ethan is still working on the heater and Hannah has been singing a song to herself quietly. I didn’t know she knew long words like “inevitable”. I barely know what that means.

I turn around and see Hannah yawn. It’s not late but I can’t keep her entertained. So I could just send her to bed now. I’m tired. It’s been such a long day. It’s just been taking care of Hannah and working.

“You tired?” I sit down best to her, “Maybe you should go to bed.”

“Noooo.” She isn’t but maybe if I insist I can make her go to sleep so I can go smoke on the fire escape.

“I’m pretty sure I saw a yawn, banana. You can’t lie to me.”

Ethan joins the conversation from the other side of the room.

“We could play a game before you go to sleep.” He smiles, “I have a deck of cards, some dice somewhere and maybe monopoly with some missing pieces. How about banana split?”

She nods. She is still curled up in a big huddle of blankets.

“What’s your poison? Poker, blackjack, Craps-“ Ethan turns one of the janky chairs arounds and sits down like a hound substitute English teacher.

Hannah giggles “you said crap.”

“Oh shit I did?” Ethan’s eyes go wide. Hannah laughs more. A satisfied smile creeps on to his face.

“I think this is a go fish crowd.” His cards are in a drawer in the kitchen, so I go grab them.

“I’m the best at go fish!” Hannah smiles so smuggly I almost want to say than I always let her win.

“We’ll see about that.” Ethan starts to shuffle the cards over the back of the chair.

Hannah shuffled over to the table, wrapped in the blanket and jacket. We play a few intense games of Go Fish that are extremely rigged in Hannah’s favor. Ethan won once but that was just to keep up the ruse.

“Ok Hannah it’s 8:30 time to sleep.” I help Ethan pull the bed part of the couch out. “You’ll sleep on here.” I pat the lumpy mattress. She sits down on it.

Ethan goes back to the heater. He’s not going to fix it today.

“Where will you sleep?” She looks up at me.

“I have the sleeping bag.” It’s going to be cold but she doesn’t need to know that.

“What about Ethan?” She looks a little more concerned for him than she did for me. It’s not like I’m the ones whose taken care of her for the last 9-ish years.

“I’ll just have to wrap myself in blankets like a burrito.”

Hannah yawns again. She makes a little pillow out of the flannel and lies down.

I kneel down next to her head, “Has it been a good day or a bad day?”

“Good day.” Her smile is interrupted by yet another yawn.

“Good.” I stand up again and walk to the light switch. “Good night, banana.” I turn off the lights. I have to stumble through the dark to where Ethan is near the window.

“Night Lex, Night Ethan.” She sounds tired.

“Sleep well.” There is this time of warmth in Ethan’s voice. I’m not used to this side of him. But I like it.

After a couple of minutes Ethan opens the window and we climb out onto the fire escape. We sit down and let our legs hang. His window is facing another building so it’s easier to avoid thinking about how high up we are.

Ethan hands me a cigarette, “ironic isn’t it. Smoking on a fire escape.” He’s too proud of himself for that.

The smoke is the only thing keeping us warm. They say heat rises but it’s cold as shit up here. I’m glad I dropped out of school. They didn’t teach anything useful. Well shop was useful but when that class is cancelled second semester why stay?

“Your sister is adorable.” Ethan puts his arm behind me in an effort to put it around me.

“She can be.” She can also be a brat, “she’s all I have, really. Other than you of course.” I lay my head on his shoulder. He successfully puts his arm around me. It feels like one of those old movies that the smoke club would watch at Alice’s house. Way back before we actually smoked.

“You’ll always have me.” He’s cold but I hope he’s getting some of my body heat. It gets too damn cold here.

“I wish we lived in California. It doesn’t get cold there.”

“There’s no shitty parents.” He laughs, “We’d get to see the ocean, and not just a stupid lake.”

If I lived in Los Angeles I could act. I could be in a movie musical or a super bowl commercial. No one would know me for my moms alcoholism. They’d know me for me.

“I want to be an actor.” I’ve always wanted to be Maria and dance with my Tony till the lights are all out. I would have done the school plays but my GPA was too low.

“In California that could happen.”

But we’re stuck in this shithole. Getting drunk in the same bars as our parents, wasting away at the same jobs as our grandparents. I’m gonna waste my life working for a fucking toy store.

Hannah is going to end up like me.

“We’re gonna die here.” A tear manages to fall from my eyes.

“No don’t cry.” There’s panic in his voice. He turns more towards me and pulls me into a hug.

“What if Hannah gets stuck here too? I work at that fucking mall like my mom did. What if Hannah ends up working there.” The tears keep coming. I clutch to Ethan.

“That’s not going to happen.” His voice is shaky. I know he doesn’t know how to comfort me.

“I don’t want to die in fucking hatchetfield. I want my sister to have a chance.” I’m never going to be an actress. I’m not the next Julie Andrews. I’m going to work for minimum wage until I can’t work anymore.

“I’ll get you to California, Lex. I know you can be the next big actress. Hannah will have a better life.” He pulls away and looks me in the eyes. “I love you. You don’t have to cry anymore.”

He’s never told me he loves me. I want to tell him I love him too but I just keep crying.

“I’ll get you to California, if it’s the last thing I do.”

[hiddendreamer67]

Sorcerers of Sanderly Place (pt. 3)

Summary: Virgil Baker is a young wizard who despite his creepy aesthetic does not approve of the way his older brother Logan is going behind their parents backs to see his vampire boyfriend Patton.

Check out more of my writing at @hiddendreamerwriting!

October Prompt #18: Fang

(Check my reblog for links to the previous parts and the taglist)

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“There you are.” Virgil looked annoyed, in the middle of a game of finger football with Thomas. The two were flicking a folded-up napkin back and forth across the counter. Still no other customers in sight, although Logan noted that could also be due to the fact his brother had ‘helpfully’ turned the sign from Open to Closed, likely in an attempt to avoid dealing with actual people.

“They are vampires.” Logan explained, flipping the sign and walking back towards his post.

“Wait…like actual vampires?” Thomas looked nervous. “I thought that was just a theme.”

“It’s a cover.” Logan began to tie his apron. “Don’t look so nervous, Thomas.”

“I’m just a big fan of keeping my blood inside my body.” Thomas gulped.

“Invest in a garlic necklace and you should be fine.” Logan shrugged.

“Wait, so how’d you figure it out?” Virgil leaned forwards, suddenly very eager to hear what his brother had to say. “Did you see jars of blood? Did they bite someone right in front of you?”

“Patton told me.” Logan answered, pulling out the dough he had abandoned before. Virgil and Thomas shared a look, both knowing how unhelpful Logan could be with giving information.

“And Patton is…?” Virgil waved him on to continue.

“A…friend.” Logan paused for just a moment too long. “As well as the owner’s son.”

Virgil’s eyes widened, recognizing Logan’s mannerisms. “Oh my god. You’re dating the competition.”

“I am not-“

“Then what’s that slip of paper in your pocket?” Virgil squinted.

Logan was quiet a moment. “…his phone number.”

Virgil let out a groan. “Seriously, the one guy you finally fall for and it’s our rival’s vampire son? What the hell, Logan?”

“He seems to act contrary to the stereotypes.” Logan insisted. “I am approaching this with a scientific curiosity only.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say.” Virgil rolled his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that when you come home with a bunch of love bites.”

Virgil seriously couldn’t believe it. The longer things went on, the more Logan’s secret relationship became a pain in his neck, pun intended. Logan would duck out of the evening shifts early, likely sneaking off to somewhere cool like a graveyard or something to hang out with his weirdly preppy boyfriend. Weren’t vampires supposed to be goth? Virgil hadn’t met the guy, but just staring out his bedroom window Virgil was surprised to see so many colors. It seemed counter-intuitive to the whole bloodsucking monster thing.

There was another problem with Logan’s relationship. Virgil had to repeatedly lie about knowing anything to their parents, and he had to cover more and more as Logan began to get more reckless with his secrecy. It was driving Virgil insane, and definitely affecting his already lousy magic studies more than ever.

“So why don’t you just tell your parents?” Thomas suggested, listening to Virgil moan on and on over the phone. 

“I can’t, Thomas.” Virgil insisted, laying his head over the edge of the bed so that the cool night breeze wafted through his hair, courtesy of the open window. “He’s…. he’s actually happy for once, you know? I’ve never seen Logan so much as take a second look at a boy, but he talks about Patton like he’s the center of his universe or something.” Virgil made a gagging noise. “It’s disgusting.”

“Mhmm.” Thomas made an unimpressed noise.

“...what?” Virgil raised a judgmental eyebrow, hoping it came across in his tone since Thomas couldn’t see him.

“I’ve seen the way you were hitting up the exchange student in art class.” Thomas teased. “The hot British one?”

Immediately Virgil turned a bright shade of red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lied. 

“Oh really?” Thomas showed no signs of stopping. “Is that why you two were exchanging notes all class?”

“I- that was just flirting!” A flustered Virgil argued. 

“Virgil Baker has never flirted in his life.” Thomas’ statement made Virgil snort in resigned agreement. Human socialization had never been his strong suit. “You’re head over heels for this boy. And you’re only talking to me right now because you don’t have his number yet.”

“That’s not true.” Virgil argued. “You’re my best friend, I wouldn’t choose you over a guy.”

“And how do you know you won’t go as gaga in love as your brother?” Thomas argued right back, though he didn’t sound very annoyed, instead endearingly exasperated. 

“Because I’m talking to you right now.” Virgil fiddled with his sleeve, biting his lip. “...and I already have his number.”

“You do not.” Thomas gasped. “Virgil! Why didn’t you tell me? Wait hang up- call him! Have his children!” 

“That’s not how any of this works.” Virgil chuckled.

Virgil’s smile faded, attitude turning melancholy as he thought back to Roman’s evening radio silence.  “Besides, I can’t. He said he was too busy tonight.” He glanced out the window, staring up at the stars. It was then that Virgil’s attention was diverted from his singleness to a dash of movement outside his window. A little shape flitted across the glow of the full moon, a small shadow in the darkness of night. Actually… the longer Virgil looked, the shadow seemed to be getting...closer?

Virgil had only just enough time to recognize the shape was a bat before it was swooping into his bedroom and transforming into a fully grown vampire. Virgil yelped, startled into falling completely off his bed and dropping the phone.

“My fangs! Look, they grew in!” The vampire loomed over Virgil, proudly showing off his razorous fangs what felt like inches from Virgil’s face. Virgil gulped, turning as pale as the stranger in fright. The vampire seemed to realize his error, giving an awkward chuckle and backing up so that Virgil could breathe again and see the figure’s face.

“Oopsies, wrong window.” The vamp gave an awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. Virgil looked him over, taking in the way the man was dressed in khakis and a polo. Not exactly intimidating. Definitely preppy, more like a puppy than a predator. 

“...I’m hoping you’re Patton?” Virgil said warily.

“The one and only!” Patton stuck out his hand, but Virgil didn’t bother to shake it. Instead he continued to look Patton over, full on judging his brother’s boyfriend. Even past the fangs, Virgil had to wonder- what did Logan see in this guy? It was hard to imagine Patton as any more than a flower child, and that just didn’t fit his older brother’s serious demeanor in the slightest. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Virgil asked, though he sounded far too casual about the question. 

“What? No!” Patton quickly shook his head. “No no no, I would never. I’m not that sort of vampire.”

Virgil gave an understanding nod. “Tonight was no good for me anyways.”

Patton cleared his throat, looking a bit uncomfortable as he slowly lowered his hand back down. “...You must be Virgil. It’s a pleasure to meet you, kiddo.”

Virgil frowned, not liking the demeaning nickname even if Patton could be hundreds of years old, if not older. “Logan’s door is first on your left.” Virgil jabbed his thumb towards his bedroom door, eager to get the vamp out of his hair so he could continue to bitch about said vamp over the phone. 

“Oh, okay.” Patton gave Virgil an encouraging smile, heading to the door. “Well, see you around then, kiddo!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, picking up the phone again. He wondered how much Thomas had overheard. “You’ll be interested to know I’m not dead.”

“Yeah, ah, what was that??” A nervous Thomas asked, clearly worried for his safety.

“Just got a heart attack.” Virgil shrugged. “Also finally met Patton. Dude crashed through the window.”

“Aren’t you about a billion floors up?” Thomas sounded skeptical.

“Give or take. But he’s a magic bat, Thomas.” Virgil reminded him. Honestly, he really couldn’t see how Logan put up with all of that- Roman might be energetic, but at least he was normal. 

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @hazelestelle!

Read on AO3

*****

yes

Derek wakes with a start as the loft door slides open so forcefully the walls shake. Although, now that he’s looking at the would-be intruder, he thinks they’re shaking because of another reason.

“Stiles!” he yells, causing Stiles to jump. At least the walls stop quivering. “What’s going on?” he asks, eyebrows scrunched. Anything that makes Stiles lose control of his powers is bound to be no good.

“Derek!” Stiles frantically scans the room. There are red lines on Stiles’s neck where he’s been scratching, a nervous tic he’s never broken, and he’s sporting a severe case of bedhead. Stiles has a bad habit of running his hands through his hair while he’s thinking. Derek sees the line of tension in his shoulders melt away when he finally spots Derek sitting up on the couch. “I need you to date me.”

“Date you?” Derek echoes.

Clearly, Derek’s brain hasn’t woken yet because there’s no way he heard correctly. Though dating Stiles isn’t exactly a new thought, so it could just be wishful thinking.

From the minute Derek met Stiles, he had been fascinated by the way Stiles’s long fingers rubbed along his buzzcut.

He’s got a thing for hands. Sue him.

But Stiles had been young, too young. The parallels between them were too similar to himself and Kate, and he wouldn’t allow himself to go there.

The years passed, and Stiles only grew more attractive and not just physically. Derek also admired his fierce loyalty to the pack, the way he took to his spark, the way he dug under Derek’s skin and carved out a place in the very fiber of Derek’s being.

Needless to say, dating Stiles isn’t exactly a new thought. He just didn’t expect Stiles to ask him, and especially not like this.

Stiles blows out a heavy breath, and the couch dips where he flops down. “Yes. I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Oh . Not real dating, fake dating. Lucky for Derek, he seems to have mastered the art of resting bitch face, so he won’t give away his disappointment.

Instead, Derek turns, listening raptly as Stiles talks about a pack approaching him. They’d heard of Stiles, of the boy who runs with wolves. The one who helped stop a kanima and a darach, who overcame a nogitsune, and escaped the wild hunt. They heard of his spark and wanted him.

So, of course, Derek says yes.

Stiles hadn’t expected Derek to say yes so easily. He figured there’d be whining. Okay, maybe not whining because Derek’s not a whiner. No, Derek glares with that steely gaze and those caterpillar eyebrows that threaten certain death. Admittedly, asking Derek to host a dinner for the pack that wants to take Stiles is probably not a smart idea; however, they need to see that not only is Stiles a packmate, but he’s involved with a werewolf. No one would try to separate a werewolf from their mate, or fake mate in his case.

All day Derek’s been grouchy, even more growly than usual. “They’re not gonna believe we’re together if you look like you wanna kill me, Derek.”

“Maybe it’s foreplay for us.” And Stiles double-takes because did he just—

“Oh! Wolf’s got jokes. That’s nice. Asshole .”

That earns him a feral smile, which really shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. But then again, Stiles is pretty sure that everything about Derek turns him on. He once watched the way Derek’s muscles rippled as he folded a shirt and had to excuse himself because of an awkward boner. That was also a couple of years ago and he’s since gotten better at controlling himself. He quickly distracts himself by tossing more of his things around the loft.

“Okay. I think that’s it,” Stiles tells Derek, falling back on Derek’s bed, curling around the pillow he brought from home. “Pull out the super sniffer. Does it smell enough like me in here to believe we live together?”

It’s only been a few days since Derek agreed to fake dating, and Stiles insisted on staying over every night. “ My scent, Derek. They’re gonna be able to tell if my scent isn’t strong enough! ” was the argument he’d used. Somehow that led to his laptop taking up residence on Derek’s coffee table, his jacket slung on the back of his favorite chair at the dining table (yes, he has a favorite!), and a well-worn spot on the couch that he’s declared his own.

Derek’s face is pulled tight, almost like it hurts, and Stiles feels guilty because this is Derek’s home that he’s forcing his way into. Sure, Derek agreed, but still…

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks him, voice laced with concern.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t really think about— This is your safe space, and I’m over here tossing my shit everywhere.”

“It’s fine, Stiles. Really. If it bothered me, I wouldn’t have agreed.”

Stiles opens his mouth to point out that Derek’s face says otherwise, but he’s interrupted by a knocking at the loft door. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Derek wasn’t ready.

Not for how well Stiles fit against him as they stood together to welcome the alpha, or how intuitive it was to place a hand on the small of Stiles’s back or on his knee when it bounced with nerves.

Still, the dinner went exceptionally well. Not once did the alpha ask about Stiles joining his pack. It didn’t even appear that he was scrutinizing their relationship. Derek wasn’t ready for how easily the alpha believed them, remarking on how in love and in tune with each other they were.

“You’re lucky to have found each other,” the alpha said as they walked him out of the loft. “It’s one thing to find a compatible mate, but another to find your other half. I wish you both a long and happy life together.”

Yeah , Derek thinks. I wish that, too .

It’s a knife to the gut because as soon as the pack leaves, there’s a distinct lack of warmth where Stiles’s body is no longer pressed against his own. He follows Stiles to the kitchen and leans against the sink.

“Whew!” Stiles pulls himself up on the counter and tears off a piece of garlic bread, popping it in his mouth like Derek’s entire world hasn’t changed.

The past few days have been entirely too domestic for Derek. Waking up next to Stiles and watching his face light up at the first sip of coffee, having his scent everywhere , even yelling at him for leaving his towel in the middle of the bathroom. How’s he supposed to live without Stiles singing off-key in the shower or the sound of his socked feet as they pad across the loft?

“Yeah,” he says, voice thick with emotion because now that it’s over, Stiles will leave. Derek will go back to making breakfast for one. He won’t have that moment in the morning where Stiles has one leg and arm thrown over him like Derek is his own personal pillow.

“You alright, big guy?” Derek’s caught off guard by the worry emanating from Stiles.

“I’m good,” he says, needing to play it off. No, he’s not emotionally constipated, like some people think. Stiles’s friendship is too important to him, and he’d hate for things to change because he has feelings . He’s survived this long. “Just wondering how long it’s gonna take to get your stench outta here.”

That earns him a piece of bread to the face, which he should have been able to catch. He suspects Stiles used his magic.

“Seriously. You’re making a face now and you made one earlier. It wasn’t your regular disgruntled face either. What’s going on, Derek? We’re friends. You can talk to me.”

Stiles jumps off the counter, and Derek feels the warmth of his body as Stiles presses against his back, Stiles’s hands are an anchor on his waist. Sighing, he closes his eyes and leans into the embrace.

“Talk to me, Derek. These past few days might not have been real but—“

“What if—“ He swallows the lump in his throat, working up the courage to continue.

There’s a puff of air on the back of his neck as Stiles says, “What if, what?” He’s scared of how hopeful Stiles sounds, scared he’s transferring his own feelings onto Stiles.

Opening his eyes, Derek looks around the loft. There’s a Mets cap sitting on the counter, along with keys to Roscoe. Stiles hung a Star Wars poster on the wall above a bookshelf that now houses a small army of funko pops that don’t look out of place with his books.

Turning in Stiles’s arms, he looks into those wide amber eyes and sees that it’s not transference, Stiles actually looks hopeful. “What if I want it to be real? This? Us?”

“You laughed at my Batman toothbrush.”

“You’re 20, Stiles. Pretty sure the packaging for that said 5 to 7 years old. I didn’t say anything about the Superman boxers, did I?”

“Touché.” Stiles’s tongue darts out from between his full pink lips, and Derek can’t help but be mesmerized.

The air is heavy as they stare at each other. And Derek thinks, just maybe, Stiles’s world has changed too.

Epilogue - One Week Later

Standing in the middle of the loft, Stiles cocks his head to the side as he glares at all the unopened boxes filling every open space.

“They’re not gonna unpack themselves, Stiles.”

He startles at the close proximity of Derek’s voice. Last he saw, Derek was in the bathroom, organizing the medicine cabinet to fit in all of Stiles’s bathroom essentials.

“I swear to God ! I am getting you a bell!” He clutches his chest in over-exaggeration.

“Stop being so dramatic.”

A shudder runs through him at the feel of Derek’s lips on the back of his neck, giving him goosebumps across his skin.

He gets to have this now. Tender touches and gentle kisses.

“You should date me,” he says, looking over his shoulder into the brilliant hazel of Derek’s eyes.

Derek raises a brow, and it’s a small puff of breath on his hairline when Derek chuckles. “I thought I was already?” Stiles follows as Derek surveys the piles of boxes littered throughout the room.  

“I never actually asked though.”

Derek’s arms circle his waist, holding him tightly from behind. Like déjà vu, Derek gives a serious and solemn vow of, “Yes.”

[writing-for-amusement]

Commission for Confidence, 9

Summary: Y/N has been struggling with her self-esteem for years. After incessant pushing from your best friend, Y/N decides to commission an artist to draw her, expecting everything to happen via Internet. However, when your phone is stolen, you try to cancel the commission, but Peter Parker has other ideas. He quickly becomes enraptured by you, and a friendship forms easily. Will it lead to something more? Or will your past fears get in the way?

A/N: Okay, here’s the next chapter! Chapter 10 will be game night, I think, and after that there’ll be another mini-time skip! I do like where this one went. Please let me know what you think!

If you want to be on this taglist or on my permanent one, just shoot me an ask or something! If there’s a strikethrough on your URL, that means it didn’t work, but I’ll do my best to fix it if I can!

Permanent Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @jordyns-library, @natblidaclexa, @peterseuphoria, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @beccaboo929, @softrdj, @icecoldban

CFC Taglist: @scatterbrainedgenius, @wildfirecracker, @pastlives-purplesouls, @maybemona, @hotchocolattee, @heregoestheworld, @willowtree42095, @134340-cm, @this-is-just-for-fanfic-lmao, @poc-gotbang, @sincereleygmg, @toastedpopsicles, @imstupidsblog

Word Count: 4014

Warnings: fluff, Peter cooking, mention of injuries, additional minor cooking-related injuries, some swearing lmao, some crying, being super duper tired, a little bit of Peter’s POV, some negative self-talk near the end

You still had your arms around Peter’s neck as he reached your floor. You expected him to put you down as soon as you reached the top.

It seemed that Peter was full of surprises.

Peter continued to carry you on the way to your door. Right before he gently put you down, he squeezed you tightly and seemed to inhale deeply through his nose. Then, thankfully, your feet touched the floor, and you felt relatively stable.

Peter followed you inside casually and you made a beeline to the fridge. Another yawn graced your face as you pulled out one of the reusable bottles of water you always put in the fridge. As you straightened and groaned at the twinge of pain, Peter appeared right behind you, making you throw the bottle in surprise.

Peter caught it easily and handed it back to you with a chuckle. “Why don’t you go get comfy and I’ll see what I can cook up?”

Too tired to argue, you said, “Luckily for you, I just went grocery shopping.”

He gave you a grin as you shuffled away. Once in your bedroom, you slowly went about changing from your dirty work clothes into a giant sweatshirt you’d gotten from a thrift store and a pair of simple black leggings. You stared at your blob-like form in the mirror, aware that you purposefully made yourself into a blob, before padding back out to the kitchen; the sounds of cooking reached your ears.

“Smells good,” you remarked as you leaned against the counter. “Are you utilizing my garlic and onions?”

“Yep!” Peter chirped as he beamed at you over his shoulder.

“What’s on the menu, chef?” you asked as you finally took a sip of water. The coolness relieved your throat and made your entire body relax ever so slightly.

“Well,” Peter shuffled slightly so you could stand next to him at the stove, “I saw that you had some steak, and some potatoes, so we’re going to have steak and potatoes.”

“What kind of potatoes?” you asked as you saw them already washed and cut, coming to a boil on the stove. Exactly how long had you been changing clothes?

“Not sure yet,” he admitted. “Not just boiled, I know that.”

You hummed slightly and grabbed a fork, poking a potato. “I’ll make some lemon pepper potatoes,” you stated as you turned up the heat.

“But I am supposed to be the one cooking,” Peter pouted at you.

“And you have done a fabulous job so far,” you smiled at him, “but let me help. I hate feeling useless. Besides,” you cut him off as he was about to say something, “my kitchen, my rules. That’s the way it is.”

“Fine,” he pretended to huff. “What do you need, sous chef?”

You chuckled and took a step back from him. “Nothing yet. The potatoes aren’t quite done enough. Would you like to hear my plan?”

“Yes please!” Peter grinned as he placed a steak in the pan with a loud sizzle. He placed the next one and added some butter and rosemary, the scent wafting through the air and comforting your soul.

“Alright, well, when they’re almost done being boiled, I’m going to toss them in some lemon pepper seasoning. I might add some other stuff too, I’m not sure yet. Then, while the steaks are resting, I’ll toss them in the pan and let them crisp up.”

Peter let out a moan as you finished describing it, and your ears burned at the sound. “That sounds amazing,” he admitted, smirking at you.

You chatted absentmindedly as he finally flipped the steaks and you were ready to drain the potatoes. As you picked it up, your wrapped arm throbbed painfully enough that the pot clattered back onto the stove. It splashed near-boiling water all over your hand and foot, making you hiss in pain and jump back.

Of course, you collided with the counter behind you.

“Son of a bitch!” you exclaimed; your breathing was almost frozen in your throat.

“Jesus!” Peter exclaimed at the same time, taking a step towards you. “Shit, Y/N, are you okay? Not a great day for you, huh?” he attempted to lighten the mood.

Your eyes began to mist with tears of frustration, pain, and exhaustion; you were much too tired to keep them in. You put your hand over your mouth as you let out a sob, your eyes squeezing shut and the tears pouring out of your eyes.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, are you hurt?” Peter asked as he stepped closer to you, rubbing his hands up and down your shoulders and arms. “It’s okay, Y/N, just talk to me. Are you hurt? Please tell me you’re not hurt.”

“I’m, not, hurt,” you basically hiccupped around your tears.

“Oh,” he breathed, halting the rubbing of his hands on your arms. As you continued to sob, unable to stop both the tears and the jumping of your lungs, Peter stepped closer to you. He wrapped his arms around you, tucking you into his chest.

You couldn’t stop the hand that covered your mouth from moving to grip Peter’s soft t-shirt with tight yet shaky fingers. You were just so incredibly exhausted and achy and done with the world, that your body apparently decided that crying would be the best way to deal with your current situation.

One of Peter’s hands rubbed your back as the other squeezed you tighter. After several minutes, you felt your tears come to an end and your breathing relax.

Your head suddenly snapped up and you peered over Peter’s shoulder to look at the stove. The steaks were still in the pan, but the heat was off. You relaxed in front of Peter again, your neck rolling down to rest your forehead on his chest.

Peter chuckled and pulled back from you, making you look up at him. “Go lay down on the couch, okay?”

“But—”

“No, go. I’ll finish up dinner. Go lay down, relax. You need it.”

“But—”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, “you deserve it. Besides, you’re not allowed to argue with me when you look that adorable. Now go.”

You sighed heavily and nodded. Peter smiled at your acquiescence and you almost jumped in surprise when his lips pressed a kiss to your forehead. You made sure you didn’t look at him as you shuffled away and into the living room.

You carefully lowered yourself to the couch and then into a comfortable position, or at least as comfortable as you could. You turned the TV on and lazily picked an episode of The Golden Girls before sinking into the comfort of your couch.

 Peter finished up dinner and walked into the living room to tell you it was ready, only to see you fast asleep. You were curled into yourself ever so slightly, your eyebrows slightly furrowed. Peter sat on the edge of the couch near your knees, looking down at you with a soft smile. You shifted slightly and let out a little grumble, a grimace coming to your lips.

Reaching out a hand, Peter gently ran his fingers through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face. At his touch, you relaxed, almost seeming to move closer to him, and his heart fluttered in his ribcage. The bandages on your face shot guilt through his chest, sending his fluttering heart back down to the ground.

He felt so bad about your injuries. It was an afternoon patrol day, and he was four blocks away when Karen told him about the robbery in-progress. Peter had swung over immediately, stopping on top of a building across the street to assess the situation.

As soon as he saw you being held by your hair, Peter was swinging down and to the window. You were throwing a gun at a man’s face when he went through the window, and then Peter was so focused on webbing everyone up to stop you from getting hurt that he didn’t get to the ones kicking you until you were already curled on the floor.

Peter’s heart panged again as he recalled you riddled with pieces of glass and clutching your ribs; he hated the look of fear on your face.

As you breathed in deeply, Peter was struck with pride at how brave you had been during the robbery. You obviously worked splendidly under pressure, and it made him admire you more. He hated that you’d gotten hurt, and that you were so torn up because he had been reckless and jumped without a proper plan, but he was happy that you were okay.

And, he admitted to himself, he was glad that he was there with you. Your sleeping form was so cute, and you looked so soft. He wanted nothing more than to crawl onto the couch and settle behind you, holding you close and keeping you safe. Then again, he also wanted to sketch out your gorgeous form…

Peter didn’t know why he was so drawn to you, especially considering that you hadn’t known each other very long, but he was. He didn’t want to stop being drawn to you, in all honesty, because he saw you as such a ray of light, even when you were sleeping.

Still, you had to wake up to eat.

 You were woken up gently, and you opened your eyes to see Peter leaning over you slightly with his hand on your shoulder. His smile warmed your heart and you began to sit up. Your ribs twitched with a bit of pain, causing a wince to cross your face. Peter moved back slightly and smiled again as you stretched, wincing again at the slight pain it caused.

“How long was I out?” you muttered out, rubbing at your eyes.

“Just, like, fifteen minutes, I think?” Peter replied.

“Mm,” you hummed slightly, dropping your arms. “What’s up?”

“Dinner’s ready,” Peter said cheerfully, getting up and reaching out a hand to help you up. You put your hand in his and he gently helped you to your feet. Without letting go of your hand, he led you to your dining room table.

You sat in your usual spot, Peter to your right, and tiredly regarded your plate. You let out another hum as you finally woke up more upon smelling the food.

“This looks great, Peter,” you said sincerely, picking up your utensils and beginning to eat. The first bite of steak had you letting out a moan of happiness; it was truly delicious. “Oh my god, Peter,” you moaned around your food, “this is so good.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled warmly.

You spent the dinner in relative silence, mostly just eating. The food warmed you completely, both in body and soul. While you were eating, though, you were once again aware of how sore your body was and how exhausted you felt.

“Go lay back down,” Peter urged as you finished eating. “I’ll clean up.”

“I can—”

“Remember what I said?” he interrupted gently.

“Um?”

“You’re not allowed to argue with me when you look so cute, now go get some more rest. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

You huffed out your acquiescence and shuffled back to the couch. You sat on it this time, to avoid falling asleep, and scrolled through your phone aimlessly. Your sitting position did not, however, stop your eyes from drooping, nor your mouth from yawning.

“Y/N, I’m done—” Peter cut off as he saw you dozing on the couch again. This time, though, you were only dozing, and your head snapped up to look at him.

“Sorry, Peter, for being so useless tonight,” you yawned.

Peter sat down next to you and pulled your leg into his lap. He absently massaged it through your leggings as he said, “No, you’re not useless, Y/N. You’re never useless. You’re wonderful and always exactly as you need to be, by being you.”

You nearly purred at the sensation of the massage, even as your eyes filled with tears. “Th-thanks, Peter, that means a lot,” you stuttered.

He smiled at you and then looked at the time. The feeling of him pressing into the muscles of your calf was making you even more drowsy.

“Hey, Y/N?” Peter roused you slightly.

“Yes?” you asked, opened your eyes wide to try to wake up.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked tenderly with shining brown eyes.

“You don’t have to, Peter,” you said, waking up a bit more. “I can handle the rest of the night. It’s all up to you, though.”

Peter sighed heavily through his nose, causing your eyebrows to furrow in concern. He leaned into your couch and sighed again, drawing it out into a groan and squeezing his eyes shut.

“What’s wrong?” you couldn’t help but ask. You pulled your legs underneath you and leaned forward to put a concerned hand on his shoulder.

Peter opened his eyes and you realized how close you were to him. You leaned back a little but kept your hand in place. He gave you a smile, though it wasn’t an overly happy one.

“I don’t wanna leave,” he explained slowly, “but I probably should so that I don’t neglect my duties around the house before game night.” Another sigh escaped his lips.

“Aw,” you cooed, “it’s so sweet of you to be concerned, but I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not concerned,” he said, then hurried to say, “well, I mean, I am concerned, but that’s not why I want to stay.” He then blushed as he said, “I just like spending time with you, Y/N, that’s why I want to stay.”

You felt your blood rushing as your body reacted to his words. In a poor attempt to hide how sheepish you were, you said, “Peter, that’s sweet, but if you gotta go, you gotta go.”

He heaved another sigh, this one obviously meant to be overly dramatic, and pushed himself to his feet. You followed suit even as he shambled to the front door. It was easy to chuckle at his dramatics, and that seemed to be his goal as he grinned at you.

“Peter?” you prompted him as he pulled on his shoes and got ready to go.

“Yes, Y/N?” His brown eyes would be so easy to get lost in…

“Well, I just wanted to say, well, thank you. You were really there for me today, and you didn’t have to, so… thank you. I really appreciate it.” You chuckled quietly before you continued, “I’ve never really had a friend quite like you, Peter. It’s a new experience for me.”

Peter was quiet for a moment as he patted his pockets to be sure he had everything. Then, he turned and beamed at you. “I’m happy to be your friend, and to be your friend the way I am. I’ll always be there for you, Y/N. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll be over before you know it, mmkay?”

You nodded. “Thank you again, Peter.”

“No need to thank me. I’ll see you tomorrow for game night?” he confirmed as he stood in the threshold of the front door.

“Yep!” you chirped happily. “Bye, Peter.”

Steeling yourself a final time, you bounced forward and kissed his cheek before he was completely out of the apartment. You could see his blush as the door shut, and after a few moments, you heard his footsteps walk away.

You locked your door and made sure everything was off before plugging in your phone and curling up on your comfortable couch. Sleep came easily that night.

 The next day, you woke up with aches pulsing all over your body. What had woken you up was a phone call from Edith.

“Y/N, I swear to all the saints and gods, if you come to work today, I’ll fire you on the spot,” Edith said in lieu of a greeting. “Well, I won’t fire you, but I will force you to do what you find to be the most boring work possible: math theory books.”

“Edith,” you chuckled, blinking the sleep from your eyes, “if you had waited another hour, I would’ve called in. My alarm isn’t set to go off for another hour.”

“Oh,” she breathed out, the fire she had built up dying quickly. “Oh. Okay then. Well, how are you feeling? Did you get home okay? Charlie filled me in, since Arthur isn’t coming in and is still asleep. Do you need to talk about it?”

You chuckled under your breath as you managed to heave yourself into a semi-upright position. It shot pain through your midsection, but it quickly left. “I’m okay. They patched me up and gave me painkillers. My friend helped me out last night. I’m mostly just sore right now, and still exhausted.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” Edith informed you. “And, well, while what you did wasn’t necessarily wise, it was smart, and I’m proud of you for being brave.”

“Thanks, Edith,” you said as emotion tightened your chest. Edith had been like a mother-figure to you ever since you got the job; hearing her say something like that was very sweet and very necessary.

“Don’t come back into work until Wednesday, okay? And no doing work from home! This is part of your paid time off; it’s about time you start using those days anyway, kid.”

“Thank you, Edith,” you repeated warmly. “I’ll only read for pleasure this weekend and I’ll be sure to relax as best as I am able.”

“Good!” Edith said firmly. After a pause, she continued, “Go back to sleep, okay? Let me know if you need anything and I’ll be right over.”

You chuckled in response. “I will, Edith. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. See you Wednesday.”

“See you Wednesday,” you agreed, hanging up the phone.

You stretched out on the couch again, proud of your choice last night. You knew that if you had slept in your bed, you would be unable to get up without considerable pain. And, well, your couch was incredibly comfortable. Your bed was comfortable too, but not in a way that would make it a good idea for you to sleep there with your aching body.

After another strike of pain ran up and down your spine, you kicked your legs over the edge of the couch. With your body protesting loudly, and some of the protests making it out of your mouth in the form of grunts and groans, you managed to get up, open your curtains, and go to the kitchen.

As you made some toast and tea so you could take some painkillers and head back to sleep, you heard tapping on your window.

You leaned over the breakfast bar and scanned the windows, expecting to see the crows that you had befriended. Instead, you saw Spider-Man sitting on your fire escape and tapping on the window.

With a roll of your eyes, you crossed to that window and opened it. You could tell that Spider-Man was grinning under his mask as you managed to climb out the window and onto the fire escape, despite your body protesting.

“Hello again, Spider-Man,” you greeted him. “You’re here early.”

“Well,” the obviously altered voice began, “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Ah.”

“I was busy last night, so I couldn’t make it,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that was strangely familiar. “How are you feeling?”

You sighed slightly and shrugged a shoulder. “I’m making some breakfast so I can take some painkillers and sleep for a few more hours.”

“What, uh, what are you doing tonight?” he asked sheepishly.

“Why, Spider-Man? Are you going to ask me on a date or something?” you flirted lightly, feeling that it was harmless. Well, if that could even be considered flirting, since you didn’t think you were very good at flirting at all.

“N-no!” he stuttered with his white eyes wide as he looked away. “I was just curious. It’s, uh, just a question. It’s Friday, you know, and I was just—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him with a laugh. “I was just teasing. I’m going over to a friend’s place for game night.”

“Is this that same friend as the one you talked to me about?” he asked, his mask shifting in a way that told you he was wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yes,” you replied, crossing your arms over your stomach in a sudden wave of self-consciousness. “I kissed his cheek last night,” you admitted quietly.

“Ooo, spicy!” he chuckled, sounding weird with the voice changer.

“Shut up,” you muttered. “He was really sweet last night, and he was really flirty, I think. It made me feel… special.” You sighed and curled into yourself slightly. “He’s just being nice,” you reasoned. “I don’t think a guy like him would be capable of liking a gal like me romantically… or sexually.”

“Now why would you say that?” Spider-Man demanded angrily, making you jump in surprise. “And furthermore, how would you even know that?”

“I-I, well,” you stuttered, curling in again and looking away from him. “I just have a feeling, okay? And people aren’t really… interested in me… like that. Never have been. I’m just not… attractive and not interesting in a long-lasting way. That’s what all my exes have said, anyway, and… no one’s ever told me otherwise, no one outside of my close friend group. D-don’t get me wrong, I am trying to be better with my self-esteem, but… I’ve kinda given up on relationships. I’m just not made for them.”

Spider-Man let out a rather uncharacteristic growl, making you start again. “Your exes are garbage and I should beat them up for the way they obviously treated you. Those people don’t get to dictate what other people think of you.” Spider-Man suddenly took you by the shoulders. “Listen, Y/N, you are wonderful, okay? What those people said about you is wrong, because you are incredibly attractive and incredibly interesting, okay? Okay?”

You blinked in surprise at his serious tone, and the way his eyes had narrowed as he looked at you. After another moment, you nodded, not completely believing him, but feeling a little bit better about yourself.

“I-I… I’d better get going,” Spider-Man said after a few more heartbeats. “I should let you get back to your breakfast and your painkillers. Have fun tonight.”

“Thanks, Spider-Man,” you smiled gently.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N,” he informed you as you stood up with aching limbs. He shot a web and stared at you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, he stepped forward on the fire escape and there was a strange sensation on your forehead. Spider-Man had pressed a kiss to your forehead through the mask. It was a little strange, but not unwelcome.

“Bye, Spider-Man, stay safe,” you said as a way to hide your sudden shyness.

“You too, Y/N,” Spider-Man said sincerely, tugging on the web he’d shot and swinging away. You watched for another moment as he disappeared around a building.

After cramming your body back through your window, you shut and locked it again. You slowly meandered back to the kitchen and crunched on your toast, deep in thought.

Spider-Man and Peter seemed to enjoy kissing your forehead. You sighed and just chalked it up to the kindness of sweet people. It seemed to be the only reasonable explanation for that sort of affection to be directed at you.

You finished your toast and took a painkiller with a swig of your tea. Settling back onto the couch, you turned the TV on for background noise and set an alarm. You desperately needed a shower before game night, but you also desperately needed more sleep.

As you were falling asleep, you got a text from Peter asking how you were feeling. You tiredly replied with a thumbs up emoji and a triple Z emoji. Your eyes drooped fully shut as you got a winky-kissy emoji from Peter in reply.

[the--blackdahlia]

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 5 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 5

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings: Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction!  I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

Nikki had missed (Y/n) on Tuesday, but Wednesday she only had to work with no classes, so she worked in the morning and went home. She wasn’t sure if she should call him or not. She didn’t want to seem desperate. She was about to go shower when her phone rang.

“(Y/n)?” NIkki asked with a smile when he answered with a gasping ‘hello?’ “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No. I was just gonna grab a shower but heard the phone and rang back.” (Y/n) laughed. “How was your gig?”

“It was good! The crowd was awesome and we got to play our new songs so I think it’s going well.” Nikki smiled. “How was your day?”

“I argued with someone at work because I was right and he was wrong, but he didn’t want to admit it because I’m a woman.” (Y/n) shrugged. “He should be lucky I’m not one of my siblings because I probably would’ve punched him in his nose.” She sat down on her bed. “It was pretty boring besides that, but I was listening to some really good music on my Walkman.”

“Yeah? Anyone I know?” Nikki sat on his bed before he leaned back.

“Just this band called Motley Crue. Not sure if you’ve ever heard of them but their bassist is pretty hot. I really dig his green eyes.” (Y/n) laughed.

“Should I be jealous,” Nikki teased with a laugh. “I miss seeing you and I can’t wait until Thursday.” NIkki admitted.

“I miss you too.” (Y/n) admitted. “If I hadn’t had a test Tuesday morning, I would’ve been there Monday night. I can’t wait until Thursday either.”

“Makes it worth the wait then,” Nikki smiled. “So I should be at your place tomorrow at 6, I was thinking maybe Risky Business or The Outsiders?

“Have you seen either of them?” (Y/n) asked.

“I haven’t but we could always catch, E.T.? ” NIkki wasn’t sure what she liked. But he was willing to try any movie just to be with her.  

“E.T. The Extraterrestrial would be nice. I just didn’t want to make you see a movie you’ve already seen.” (Y/n) laughed.

“Hey man, It looks like a cool movie,” Nikki shrugged.

“I’ll see anything with you. Even scary movies.” (Y/n) blushed. “I mean...uh horror movies are cool…”

NIkki let out a laugh, “Don’t sweat sweet girl. I’ll protect you.”

“I feel much better already.” (Y/n) smiled. “Do you have anything to do? I don’t want to keep you from it.”

“I’m good. Besides I rather hear your voice over Vince and Tommy squaking.” Nikki sighed.

“They sound like joys.” (Y/n) laughed, knowing just how much of a joy Tommy was.

Before Nikki could keep talking , Tommy burst through his bedroom door. “Come on bitch we’re going to a…” Tommy stopped mid-sentence and sighed. “Hi girlfriend! Is it ok if I steal your boyfriend from you!” Tommy yelled as he tried to chace Nikki to get the phone.

“Back off man!” Nikki said. Tommy went to grab the phone and they accidentally hung up on (Y/n). She looked at the phone as she heard the dial tone and laughed. She put the phone down and went to go get a shower.

“Hello? Hello?” Tommy said. “There’s no one there.”

“You asshole! You hung up on her!” Nikki began punching him in the arm repeatedly.

“Ow! Stop!” Tommy said. “What are you so mad about?”

“I haven’t talked to her for two days you jackass!” Nikki kept punching him. “We could have been having phone sex but no you had…” he punches Tommy again. “To fucking barge into my room.”

“Dude, just go have real sex with someone.” Tommy said, backing away and rubbing his arm. “Not my fault she only wants to date you through the phone!”

“You know we have a date on Thursday you idiot,” Nikki grumbled as he walked out of the room and into the kitchen to grab something to eat only to find the refrigerator empty. “You have got to be shitting me!”  

“So, where is that date at again?” Vince asked, leaning on the counter.

“NO!” Nikki yelled. “Okay, number one, I need food. Number two,  I am not telling you guys jack shit about my date until after it’s over!”

“You’re telling us you don’t want us to chaperone?” Mick asked from his seat in the living room.

“I don’t want you fuckers anywhere near my date tomorrow,” Nikki growled. He grabbed his jacket and his keys and climbed out of the apartment window to get to his car. The cops kept getting called at their parties and they nailed the door shut.  

He made his way to the grocery store he liked to go to. Heading inside, he got a cart and made his way around. That’s when he heard a familiar voice.

“Yeah, so Athena’s joining us and I might have hinted about cooking when she called this morning.” (Y/n) told Vanessa as they walked around. “I should’ve promised pizza or something instead.”

“That would have been easier,” Vanessa laughed as she helped (Y/n) with her groceries.

“I guess I could get a frozen pizza and tell her I made it from scratch.” (Y/n) laughed. She sighed a little. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I miss Nikki.”

Nikki turned the corner leaving his cart for just a second. He crept up and gave a mischievous grin before tickling (Y/n)’s sides making her jump. (Y/n) went to turn to her attacker and paused to give a joyful squeal.

“Hey sweet girl,” Nikki said as he hugged her tight and picked her up in his arms, “small world.”

"Nikki! What are you doing here?" (Y/n) asked with a laugh. She didn't want to leave his arms.

“Tommy ate everything in the fridge so I’m feeling a bit hungry. I have to scavenge for food.” Nikki put her down and smiled. “You having a girls night?”    

"Yeah. My sister is coming over to hang out with me and Nessa." (Y/n) looked around. "Where's the rest of the guys?"

“I left them back at the apartment,” Nikki pulled her in for a chaste kiss. “I’m just trying to figure out what food I need to grab so that Tommy doesn’t steal it.”

“Healthy food.” (Y/n) said. “I mean, he looks like the type that wouldn’t touch a carrot unless it was coated in chocolate.” Vanessa shook her head to keep from laughing. “Or we could go get something to eat. My treat.” (Y/n) was nervous and Vanessa could tell by the look in Nikki’s eyes that he thought she was the cutest thing ever.

“Aren’t you cooking for your sister though?” Nikki held her close, he didn’t want to let go. “I don’t want to distract you from feeding your sister.”

“Trust me, her brother and sister would eat literal garbage if it was served to them on a plate.” Vanessa laughed. “Go on you two. You haven’t seen each other since what? Sunday?” (Y/n) blushed.

“Nessa…” (Y/n) was worried Nikki would think she was coming on too strong.

“Have I mentioned that I like this friend,” NIkki looked at (Y/n), then turned to Vanessa holding out his hand. “Nikki Sixx.”

“Vanessa…. But you can call me Nessa. So, any chance I can get hooked up with Vince?” she gave him a smile.

“I’m not sure you want to get hooked up with Vince.” Nikki chuckled.

“You hook me up with little Vinnie and I can keep him distracted,” Vanessa gave him a sly smile and a wink. “You could use the help. Now go eat and I’ll meet you back at the dorm (Y/n).” She left, leaving Nikki and (Y/n) at the grocery.

“I’m just gonna order my sister pizza,” (Y/n) laughed. “I’m not even sure what to make her.”

“That does sound like a plan,” Nikki smiled. “Where would you like to eat?”

“We could go back to the diner. Their food is really good.” (Y/n) smiled at him.

“It is very good. Should we put this back since you’ll be ordering pizza?” NIkki caressed her cheek before pulling her in for another kiss. Something about the way her lips felt against his was intoxicating.

“Yeah. I don’t have much.” She just had some bread and garlic powder in her cart. “Get in and I’ll push you.” She laughed.

NIkki gave her a mischievous grin before climbing inside the basket. “Let’s go!” She smiled and pushed the cart, running towards the bread aisle. That’s when the manager grabbed her arm, stopping her from running.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked. (Y/n) glanced over at Nikki, who was almost stuck in the basket.

“Relax man we’re just having some fun,” NIkki said as he got out of the basket almost falling on his face. “We’re putting the stuff back. Decided to eat out instead.”

“You can leave the cart and get out,” the manager said. “Or I can call the cops.”

“Relax, we’re leaving, we’re leaving.” Nikki held his hands up before taking (Y/n)’s hand and leading her outside. As they climbed into his car they looked at each other and burst out laughing. “That was fun.”

“I’ve never gotten in trouble before,” (Y/n) shook her head and turned to face him. “I think you’re a bad influence Mr. Sixx,” she muttered as she brought her face close to his.

“What can I say,” Nikki shrugged with a devilish grin. “I make good girls go bad.” He reached for her cheek caressing it slowly before they leaned in and kissing her gently.  

“What do you say we go get you some food?” (Y/n) asked when they broke apart. Nikki took her hand as he drove them to the diner. “So, did you hang up on me?” She asked shyly, glancing over at him.

“That was Tommy’s fault,” Nikki sighed. “I’m sorry about that (Y/n), He’s an idiot who just can’t stop being a goofball.” With a smile, he parked the car at the diner and turned to her. “All I want to do is kiss you.” with that he leaned in and kissed her deeply.  

“Unfortunately, that won’t make you not hungry.” She laughed. “Come on rockstar. It’s my treat. Anything you want.”

NIkki laughed as he got out and ran around to help her out of the car.

Forever Tags:  @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316

Motley Crue Tags:  @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function

Too Young to Fall in Love Tags:  @kingbouji3 @leximus98

[shardminds]

#1 for the fic writer's asks, if you'd be so kind, please?

anything for you, my love ♥ i had a whole answer written out for this and then my computer decided to fart and delete it all. so i’m going to try and write it from scratch again. HERE GOES NOTHING! 

(#1) to preface this, i’ve spent the night in a lot of weird places. backseats of cars in the middle of nowhere, deflating lilo’s on stony beaches, mossy clearings in old forests where the only things separating you from the ground are the clothes on your back, capsule hotels, pig sheds, multistory car parks etc

but the strangest? the weirdest? the ???-est? 

a park bench. 

now, you might be thinking “come ON, ems, that’s NOTHING! tell us about the leaking dingy moored up on lake coniston!” but that night wasn’t strange or weird or ??? at all. i was tired, the boat was there, i didn’t want to walk the mile back to camp and, my final reasoning, lake noise: birds, fish, water and the unknown that lurks beneath it—the best sleep accompaniment. also, if the dingy drifted off into the unknown, i’d be living my lady of shalott fantasy. lord tennyson can bite me and you can pry that poem from my cold dead hands. 

no, the park bench takes the cake because neither of us can remember where the fuck it is.

i wish i could go into all kinds of details about what happened leading up to the park bench and what happened when we left, but my best friend (mim) and i had been celebrating and drinking arguably too much dumb inebriation juice and i can not tell you anything other than what my phone told me: we walked 7 miles that night. THAT NIGHT! now, me being the kind of person i am—wearing heels whenever i get an excuse, despite there already being 6′1″ of me—i know that i would not have been able to walk the hilly terrain of my hometown in the footwear choice i made that night. no way in hell. a bitch can Walk but she also blisters real easy so that would NOT happen. 

however, the evidence declares otherwise.

i’ve lived in my hometown (almost) all my life. i know each twist and turn, each pothole to avoid, each cobbled street and traffic light, but i’d never seen this park before and i’ve never seen it since.

i don’t really remember it that well—the details of the park, that is. i remember sharing a cigarette and giving my hoodie to mim but, other than that, the only thing i can recall is the gargantuan oak trees, maybe half a dozen of them in total, their trunks each as thick as two men. i was drunk so you can blame that for the unreliability of my narration. nothing seemed off or eerie about it, probably because my insides consisted of cider, gin and half a cheesy garlic bread pizza. the bench was not comfortable and i ached for days after.

at some point, before sunrise, we must have started the walk back. i remember nothing of waking up on that bench. i remember walking past the only 24h garage in town and picking up two cans of iced coffee at 5 in the morning and then i remember climbing into the back of mim’s car and napping the rest of the alcohol off for another few hours before we drove back. that’s it. 

it’s frustrating more than anything. i’ve lived here for 18 of my 23 years of life. to say i’m pretty familiar with the place is an understatement, but can i find this park? absolutely the fuck not! 

[chimcharstar]

ALL THE COLOURS

HERE WE GO BOYS

zinc white; how are you really feeling today? no one-word answers please!

I’m feeling tired because I’m supposed to be in bed. But happy because I did the work and I can get away with sleeping in and things are just chill right now. I have devised a way of sneaking waste food at work. If you put it in these little metal containers and hide them under the fridge, nobody notices them and throws them away. This eve I dined on garlic bread and prawns.

cadmium yellow; when you think of the word “happy” what’s the first thing that comes to mind?

Walking with coffee and tunes. I’m trying to appreciate things in my life I will feel nostalgic about later in the moment, so I don’t regret anything. This is one of those things. Although I might not have the tunes part for long because I fucking broke my headphones and they may or may not start playing my music out loud for all the world to hear. I hope people like disco!

lemon; what’s your comfort food?

Food from my old workplace. I have trouble finishing food usually but not this stuff. I will probably scream while eating it. You know this and you love me

hansa yellow; what’s your guilty pleasure song?

“I Will Survive”. People were singing it in the Office and I guess it’s so famous and ironic and cringey now or something. But then I remember that one fucker

yellow ochre; name an artist/band whom you just discovered & can’t get enough of!

Herbie Hancock. I don’t know if I’ll listen to every single thing from him but I was just listening to some funk as you do and his like solos? I was vibing. We were having brain to brain communication. It was an experience. It was so so good. It was good fucking music. Listen to this shit. Herbie Hancock - I Thought It Was You This stuff makes me want to wiggle on public transit. 

naples yellow; where do you feel most at home?

Bonsais and my quiet neat fucking room. Or not giving a fuck in other people’s mess.

raw sienna; with whom do you feel most at home?

YOU HO

golden ochre; describe the relationship you have with your closest friend.

We reblog asks and send each other all the asks. ADHD disaster energy finding balance. The worst posts I’ve ever seen followed by revenge. Two gay best friends who are best friends. No seriously I am so grateful for your unconditional love and your warmth

golden deep; what’s your favorite season?

Autumn. When the leaves were falling and the sun was shining all bittersweetly I was running around taking so many pictures because there’s like this golden time and then it’s gone.

cadmium orange; what do you like to do on your days off?

I like to buy too many plants and pretty rocks that are just vibing. I just like to wander around with coffee without a schedule. Listening to funk and disco. Seriously I’m the coolest person ever

orange lake; do you have anyone you can turn to when you’re sad?

U HO. And some online mutuals of course :) I feel like I don’t turn to people when it’s real sad hours though. I just give my ocs more PTSD.

titans; do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings?

Relaxed evenings. Fuck mornings. All my mornings are slow buddy. 

shakhnazaryan red; are you currently binge-watching anything?

No, because I had to go and cancel my Netflix as all my favourite things got more episodes. 

red ochre; are you more right-brained (creative) or left-brained (analytical)?

Oh right brained bitch.

burnt sienna; is there a painting that brings you peace when you look at it?

No, paintings are stressful. It’s always like “Holy shit, that must have been so much work! I don’t enjoy painting myself! This person is better at painting than me!” I have much love in the heart for Van Gogh.

english red; what animal do you relate to most?

I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work. I could say a cat, because I want to lie down in a patch of sun, knock things over, and complain loudly. I would say a dog because I think people are way better than they really are, am tenaciously loyal to them, and get excited about going for a walk.

vermilion; what’s your favorite accent?

Whatever this one hot guy at work has.

cadmium red; do you have a “type” when it comes to a significant other?

FOR FUCKS SAKE okay I’m going to google what my type is

You got: Mr./ Mrs Perfect

You like someone that truly has is all. You need someone who is well rounded in all aspects of life. When it comes to looks and personality, only perfection receives your affection.

Wow, what does that mean at all

scarlet; describe your current crush/es.

Ok, one of them gave me cheesecake, one of them offered me pizza, another one is the guy whose Facebook you stalked for me and we still couldn’t find his birthday but I laugh about one adorable photo still (the car one), and one of them I spent half an hour trying to find where I put the birth chart of and we’re actually really compatible. I’m sorry, if you want more information I’ll have to ramble about it in your messages.

ruby; what does your ideal first date look like?

OH I JUST WANT TO WALK DOWN A STREET HOLDING HANDS AND GO TO A RESTAURANT WEVE NEVER BEEN TO BEFORE AND TRY SOME FOOD AND LAUGH A LOT, AND THEN MAYBE GO ENJOY THE VIEW OF THE OCEAN AT NIGHT. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK? IS IT?

carmine; what does your ideal second date look like?

I don’t know, fuck it let’s go to the aquarium!

madder lake red; would you ever kiss someone (or accept a kiss) on a first date?

I dunno man. I feel like I wouldn’t if it wasn’t socially acceptable but I’m also wild and crazy.

rose; what’s something really positive going on in your life right now?

I REALLY ACTUALLY LIKE MY WORKPLACE. And my living situation is pretty okay. It’s not great I guess but I’ve been coming a long way.

quinacridone rose; what’s something you’re really looking forward to?

Literally what are these colours. Okay, I’m looking forward to putting wires around crystals to make them into jewellery. Then, I want to give the jewellery to my friends. 

violet rose; what does your dream house look like?

An old as fuck, old fashioned as fuck haunted-looking mansion I can give some love.

violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down?

I need the outdoors bro. I need those trees. I gotta live in the countryside again someday.

blue lake; what would you like to do/accomplish before you settle down?

Write some books! Run rampant in the city…

cobalt blue spectral; what is the most beautiful place you have ever been to?

I think it would have to be the hills where I grew up. It was bursting with biodiversity, there was a rustic sheep farm, everyone shut the fuck up, there would be frogs, the smell of the fresh air in any season, some days would just be heart-stoppingly beautiful and I ache for it sometimes. Birdsong? I heard some birdsong today and I wanted to cry. I remember our hedges would be deafening with the birds in it.

ultramarine; when was the last time you were in a good mood? do you know/remember what sparked it?

Today, it finding something I maybe could sit around and read and then finding it in me to actually get out of bed lol.

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember?

The one I just had. A lot of it is blurry, which is frustrating because I got some strong almost-memories of it throughout the day, but it sticks out to me because I was bawling my eyes out a lot in the dream, and I also hurt myself the way I used to and I had to check that I hadn’t done it in my sleep. But I think it was a very expressive dream and those are my natural emotions.

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? 

I like the idea of a husband and some dogs, cats and chickens. Kids maybe.

how many of each?

A lot of chickens, but not too many please.

blue cobalt; do you like your name? would you give yourself a different name if you could?

I do like my name, and I did give myself a different name. Even if I knew how annoying everyone would be about pop culture Gordons, and I did. I still would choose this name.

prussian azure; what’s your favorite scent?

I’m running out of things to say as my favourite scent. OK, Nomad from Old Spice. I don’t know why, I think it must suit me or something. Maybe it’s the citrus… stuff going on there.

azure blue; what’s your favorite type of tea, if any?

Red Rose, my mom made it for me as a kid and she drank it all the time while teaching me piano or reading books.

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant?

Flowers, to show off to everyone, and then I don’t know, maybe some fucking pumpkins and easy things like corn and peas.

cerulean blue; if you were guaranteed to have a viewership, would you start a youtube vlog?

I think I’d be happier to have one if I knew no one was watching my antics LMAO

glauconite; describe your body without using any negative adjectives.

Best of both worlds

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario?

I’m still thinking of where I grew up. I see the sun through the branches of very old maple trees, and hear the wind in the long grass.

green light; are you in a comfortable place in life? if not, what do you think might make it better?

Yes, but I could make it better by moving in with cleaner roommates and getting a cat. And maybe work at something I’m actually interested in, or go to school or something.

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them?

I don’t have plans, but I’d like to visit Mexico, France, or Japan.

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn?

Kinda French. I want to learn Spanish… now Portuguese because everyone at work speaks it… literally, any very popular language. I want to learn so many languages

oxide of chromium; what’s your favorite book?

BRO WHAT IS A BOOK

olive green; are you currently reading anything? how do you like it so far?

Yeah, I’m reading a personal account of a Satanic cult. I had to stop reading it because I wasn’t ready for the graphic details.

mars brown; what’s a movie that always puts a smile on your face/makes you laugh?

Megamind/Thor Ragnarok

burnt umber; what’s something you plan to do before the day is over to take care of yourself?

Wow I feel really called out right now. I was going to eat some chicken because I’m hungry. Because that’s what I should be doing at 3AM.

umber; have you drank enough water today?

Yes, but probably not. I’ve been trying really hard today though.

voronezhskaya black; what or who is your go-to outlet for when you need to vent?

Probably you again, welcome to the salt mines!

sepia; name five things that always make you happy.

Buying a plant, rolling around on my fuzzy blanket, videos of cats being idiots, little unexpected thoughtful gifts, people sharing food.

indigo; what’s the best/sweetest compliment you have ever received?

A Treasured Mutual once spontaneously said I was a really good person because I was chill and they felt free to be themselves, to be vague.

payne’s gray; describe your aesthetic?

Looking around my room, it would seem to be whatever those studying people organizing notes with the window open on a sunny day have. I don’t know if this is me, but my room looks… vaguely feminine and organized in that way.

black; post a selfie because you are so beautiful!

I’m in my PYJAMA CLOTHES. I only want to take a selfie with GOOD NATURAL LIGHTING and the DAYTIME DARK CIRCLES around my eyes not the NIGHTTIME DARK CIRCLES. Maybe I have one hanging around

[artificialqueens]

Sweet Music Playing in the Dark: Ch. 1- Fire Escape (Craquaria)- Dill

hi everyone!! it’s been a while since i’ve submitted on this blog, but i decided to give it another go! this is the first chapter of a new fic i wrote a while ago and i’m (finally) almost done with the next chapter! you can find me @ drdill on AO3 as well as the remaining chapters of Home (the first fic i wrote)

I hate elevators.

You wait for half an eternity in the lobby fresh off your 9-to-5, only to crowd into a little 4x6 room just like every tired, irritable person around you, then stop at

Every.

Single.

Floor.

Don’t get me started about the summer when sweat becomes a factor. It’s a free, disrespectful sauna. If I didn’t live on the eighth floor, I’d take the stairs, but what sociopath would willingly do that?

It’s a Friday in late May, particularly Memorial Day weekend. The chipping cream-colored paint in the lobby paired with dirty maroon rugs welcomes me off the sunny Brooklyn streets. Most people around are eager to escape for the next couple of days, but I’m sequestered to my apartment to research the new summer color trends. How riveting. The bell rings as the doors open. Walking on quickly, I press the button and seclude myself in the corner. I feel like a fucking sardine, begging no one tries to speak to me as I put my earbuds in. Every “excuse me,” and quick neighbor catch-up is silenced by Bowie and the drums of “Fame.”

Though I’ve never spoken to anyone in this elevator, I somehow know all of them. There’s Joanne, who’s always in a hurry for no goddamn reason, Alan, the workaholic accountant whose undereye bags could be an airport carry-on item, Mike that calls his wife when he gets in the elevator, then gets mad when the signal cuts out, some others whose habits are mildly concerning, and me- the art school dropout. It’s a melting pot of people pretending to have their shit together until they step foot into this building.

I count the floors: 2, 3, 4, 5, and one by one, they shuffle off while I bob my head to the music. Finally able to breathe, I shift out of the corner when I notice a new guy hiding behind Mike. He’s shorter, no more than five and a half feet with umber hair that’s faded on the sides. His wardrobe might as well be a walking Gap advertisement- a powder blue button-up and khakis paired with matching brown belt and shoes. One last person gets off on the seventh floor before it’s just the two of us, causing more confusion when I realize he’s going to the same place I am. Why haven’t I seen him before?

He’s oblivious to my stare, scrolling through his phone. I’d be lying if I said he was my type, but I’d be lying more if I said he wasn’t pretty cute. His pants hug his hips nicely, showcasing his ass before my eyes wander to the front of his-

Pull yourself together, Giovanni. You can’t mind-fuck a stranger in the elevator.

A small hop and the doors open to the eighth floor. He follows me out, still ignorant of his surroundings, ice shuffling around in his coffee as he takes a sip. I reach my door and fumble with the keys when I notice he’s unlocking the door next to me.

That’s…Kevin’s place, as in my very loud, dark-skinned neighbor of 2 years, not this puny white guy. Based on his physique, there’s a zero percent chance he mugged Kevin, so why does he have a key? When he opens the door I hear him enthusiastically say “Hi, Muffin!”

Muffin is Kevin’s cat, so he clearly knows him well enough to be chill with the world’s most evil cat. Regardless, I get inside, throw my stuff on the kitchen table, and give Kevin a call.

“What’s up, G?” He sounds like he’s in a car.

“Hey, I just watched a very small white man walk into your apartment way too happy to see your demon-child.” I’m talking in a low voice as if he’ll hear me through the concrete walls.

His laugh erupts through my phone. “I’m sorry, girl. I totally forgot to tell you!”

“Kevin if this is another guy you met two weeks ago that ‘is definitely the one,’ I’m gonna move out. He’s clearly not your type.”

“Calm down, bitch! It’s just my friend Max. He’s moving here from Seattle in a few weeks and wanted to get a feel for the area. I invited him to stay at my place for the weekend while I’m gone. I just dropped him off from the airport.”

Ah, so that’s Max. Kevin’s mentioned his friend from college a few times but never gave much description. I was imagining someone a bit…taller. And more muscles for a guy with a black belt. It’s underwhelming.

“Rude of you to leave without saying goodbye, but I guess I’ll survive sitting alone outside.” Kevin and I have some intense solidarity from hating our neighbors and sharing a fire escape. Not a day goes by in warm weather without a quick chat on the metal platform. It all started with a false alarm one Tuesday night, causing both of us to run out like idiots and get to talking.

“I’m just going to visit my fam. My sister’s been bugging me to come and see her new house.”

I sigh dramatically. “My blunt and I will miss you dearly, princess. See you Monday?”

“You bet! Love you girl!”

“Love ya, bye.”

I hang up and think about my next move. Do I go over and say hi? That’s way too forward. Do I stay inside all weekend and act like I don’t know he’s here? Well, that would just make me a rude fake-neighbor. Neither sound too appealing at the moment. I settle for a compromise: I will introduce myself…tomorrow- let him get his feet wet a little bit in Brooklyn. I’m sure I’ll be seeing him around more often if he’s moving here soon, anyway. Satisfied with my plan, I make myself a grilled cheese because I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and get to work on my research.

—-

Dusk falls over the city and I’ve spent too long staring at Pantone’s Tumeric and Pepper Stem swatches with reference photos from fashion week. I form a makeshift portfolio for the editors and close my laptop. For finishing ahead of schedule, I roll a celebratory blunt and head for the fire escape.

A deep blue swallows the sky with a bright yellow streak as the sun sets over downtown. The temperature has finally cooled down as I step through my window and touch my sandal on the serrated metal beam. Supporting myself on the railing, I feel the night breeze run across my skin and catch my v-neck before raising the blunt between my lips, sparking the lighter quickly, and inhaling deeply. A quick burn runs through my throat on the first drag, eyes closed as I let the remaining smoke exhale to the sky. The streets are pretty peaceful at this hour, probably because there’s nothing around me but nail parlors, shoe stores, and boutiques that close at 6pm. My temporary neighbor has been suspiciously quiet all day. Normally I can hear Kevin washing his dishes or watching TV when I’m out here, so maybe he’s gone out for the night.

I’m about halfway through my joint when I hear blasting, stark trumpets from behind. Confused, I turn around and detect the sound coming from Kevin’s window, slightly cracked. I creep over to investigate, walking softly so the platform doesn’t rattle, slowly peeking through a slit in the curtain to see Max belting what sounds like “Boogie Wonderland” and dancing around Kevin’s kitchen. Now I can see why they were friends in college.

He’s cooking dinner- some type of pasta, adding pepper on beat and shimmying his shoulders. Those hips of his get put to work, scooting across the floor to grab the garlic bread and place it in the oven. It’s mesmerizing; hilarious, yet adorable, and I can’t look away. I start to realize how long I’ve been staring and get out of sight before he sees me. Somehow, I’m comfortable spying on this man but not knocking on the door and greeting him. Congrats, Gio. You’re officially a creep.

Max must be in a disco mood when the song fades out and “Relight My Fire” immediately follows. I’m giggling at the situation I’ve found myself. This definitely beats the same three Nicki Minaj songs Kevin plays on repeat while he cleans, so I might as well enjoy myself while it lasts. I finish the blunt as I begin dancing around the fire escape like an idiot, bouncing around and singing lightly to myself:

“Relight my fire,

Your love is my only desire,

Relight my fire,

Cause I nee-”

Spinning with my eyes closed might not have been the smartest idea. On my third rotation, my left sandal gets caught on the ladder as I started to move forward. My right knee hits the platform first, followed by my right hand, then elbow, then hip. A loud crash supported by sharp pain in my knee is enough to know I fucked up, and I will probably be getting some company out here soon.

The music ceases. Shit. I hear footsteps getting closer, my back facing the windows. The curtains are pulled back as a voice says “Oh my God!”

I look over my shoulder and see Max open the window and pop his head out. His face reads as really confused, but concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah I’ll be okay,” I reply as I try to push myself up, hissing when I bend my knee. Looking down, I see a trail of dark red run down my leg. Great.

“Here, let me help you clean that up.” He motions me to come inside the apartment. Knowing that I fully don’t own band-aids like a dumbass, I have no choice to accept. I scoot my way over to the window and take his hand.

“‘Tis but a scratch,” I joke, lifting my leg onto the windowpane. He’s laughing while gently pulling me into the apartment. I take my previous statement back about his lack of muscles. His bicep is about to pop through the shirt sleeve, and I wouldn’t have a problem with that.

“I’m Kevin’s friend Max, by the way.”

“I’m Gio. I promise this isn’t a normal welcome to the neighborhood.” I’m shaking my head smiling.

“It’s better than the homeless guy that showed me a magic trick outside the coffee shop earlier,” he giggles.

He puts my arm around his shoulder and rests his at my waist as he walks me over to the kitchen chair, slowly drops me off, and props my leg on another. The apartment is lit dimly, only the lights above the stove and oven providing a yellow tinge to the room. I see a large pan of chicken alfredo and I’m suddenly hungry again. He turns off the burner, runs a washcloth under some cold water, and kneels next to me, lightly dabbing the wound to soak up the blood.

“Hold that there while I get some ice to help the swelling.” Our hands lightly brush against each other as he gets up to go to the fridge. I’m trying to understand the amount of care he’s giving me. He’s such a nice guy; I’m a complete stranger and he’s treating me better than most of my exes.

He grabs a zip-top bag from the drawer and starts filling it with ice.

“So, what brings you to Brooklyn?” I ask him, acting like I didn’t speak to Kevin hours ago.

“I’m getting relocated for work. The publishing company says they need my ‘talents’ in the New York office.” He’s using air quotes, blatantly unamused.

“Jeez, don’t sound so excited about it,” I smirk. He gives a soft smile, closing the freezer door.

“It’s not that I’m unhappy about the job or moving here, I just want more time write my own stuff instead of editing other people’s work.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Trying to be.” He shrugs, coming back to my side and lightly placing the ice above my scrape. I wince as the cold towel touches my skin.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I reply. “It sucks not getting to do what you’re passionate about, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a little bit- the tales of a struggling artist.

“Do you want some wine? I probably shouldn’t drink the whole thing by myself.”

“Red or white?”

“White.”

“I could have a glass or two.” He smiles and heads back to the kitchen to get glasses and a wine opener.

“So,” he says twisting the corkscrew in, “what’s your story?”

I sigh deeply. “Moved here from Philly, dropped out of art school last year, haven’t told my parents yet, working at a fashion magazine on complete luck.”

“Holy shit, how’d you manage that?”

“I modeled for a photographer to make some money right after I withdrew from classes, and he was friends with an editor there who was looking to hire an assistant.”

“Okay, that actually doesn’t surprise me.”

“That he and the editor were close?”

“No, that you were a model. Do you want ice?”

I’m slightly taken back while he pours two glasses.

“Wait, what?”

“Ice?”

“No. Well, yes, but no the other thing.”

“What? I’m not blind. You’re cute.” What a charmer. I’m looking down, containing the huge grin on my face from his line of sight.

“Thank you.”

He hands a glass to me and heads for the bathroom. I shudder when it touches my tongue, further supporting my hate for dry wine. However, it’s free, therefore I will drink it happily. Upon returning, he brings some ointment and various sized band-aids.

“I wasn’t sure what size you’d need,” he laughs.

After drying the area around my wound, he applies the ointment, then gently places the bandage overtop. Every action thus far has been with such tender composure, as if he’s performing surgery. Wiping his fingers off, he grabs his wine and sits next to me- not on in a chair, on the floor with his legs crossed. I think he’s suddenly my type.

We exchange stares with silent smiles, finally giving me time to admire his soft, chestnut eyes that crinkle each time he grins, as well as the little, curled hairs resting on his forehead.

“You’re pretty cute, too,” I blurt out.

“Oh, thanks,” he says, a bit flustered at the compliment. His eyes look away, only to avert to my ice pack that starts leaking. I feel a drop of water run down my leg onto the floor.

“Let me get you a new one.” he starts to stand up. “I can get it.” I sit up and reach, getting used to the pain.

Our hands meet one another’s again as we grab for the washcloth at the same time. A tension begins to form in the air when we lock eyes less than a foot from each other’s face. His lips are slightly pursed, breathing heavier than normal.

It feels like slow motion as I lean in closer and shut my eyes. I feel his left hand relocate from my knee to the base of my neck, our lips separated by centimeters, foreheads touching as I feel his breath right under my nose. My lips brush lightly against his when-

DIIIIIIIIING

The oven timer provides as much warning as the fire alarm. We jump away at the sound, hearts pounding from shock. Max starts regaining his composure before jumping up and shutting it off. He rests his arms on the counter, sighing before looking back at me, holding back a laugh.

“I think my garlic bread is done.” His head falls in his hands as he starts to laugh from embarrassment. I join in as I stand up for the first time, limping over to the counter, and grabbing a potholder. He opens the oven door for me, red-faced as I place the tray on the stove, still laughing.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” He asks me.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since I smelled the garlic bread,” I giggle. He hands me a plate.

—-

I think I stayed at Kevin’s for about three hours. We talked about books, bonded over our dying love for Emma Stone, and gave each other new album suggestions while washing the dishes together. It felt so natural, to the point where we finished the bottle of wine even though I couldn’t stand it. A yawn builds up and I curse myself for getting tired, wishing I could stay until the sun rises.

“I think my bed is calling me,” I tell him. He nods.

“I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, and this time, I’ll try not to trip on the fire escape.” His giggle becomes my new favorite sound after hearing it so much.

Our goodbye was a quick hug, nothing more than the attempted kiss before dinner when I duck out the window and climb into my apartment.

Having this one close to home will be dangerous.

[therandomfics]

AMA Pt12

It was bright when you opened your eyes, so bright that you shielded them and scowled. You sat up in your bed and drank in your surroundings: a hospital room with a television on low volume, a rolling bed cart with a sweating pitcher of ice water and one solemn chair in the corner. Your things were in the chair - but they weren’t the clothes you remembered wearing last. Instead of a dirty sweatshirt and blood stained jeans, your favorite shirt dress and boots were waiting for you. You changed and observed yourself in the mirror. Somehow, despite however long you’d been in bed, your hair was perfect, your makeup was done, and you looked well. 

Pulling open the door to your room, you were greeted by an unusual scene. You stepped not into the hallway of the hospital, but into the dilapidated park that you had been found in so many years ago. Even more unusual was the smaller version of yourself, crying on the bench and shivering from the cold. You reached out to comfort your child self, but the moment you made contact with her, you felt a jolt and fell backwards. 

You sat up and looked around. No more hospital, no more park. Now you were in one of the many foster care homes you’d spent time in. Your 8 year old self sat in her room and cried, incessantly, from loneliness and from isolation. Your foster parents, you remembered in that moment, had been very negligent - and often dangerous. Your eyes scanned the bruises on her arms and you recalled the times that you’d fought of the advances of the older kids in the home. You shook your head and reminded yourself that it was in the past. It was over. 

Suddenly you were walking into the home of your now parents, watching your 14 year old self glow over wonderful grades. You looked upon the teenage you and smiled - you were safe. Lonely, but safe. Your parents looked upon you with loving eyes, but your adoptive aunt, uncle, grandmother and grandfather didn’t share the same affection. You were a parasite to them. Obviously, you’d remembered hearing, if there was something wrong with you that would have been why your parents neglected you and left you to die. “No one simply abandons their child,” your aunt had said. It was comical now in retrospect, as her own daughter - your cousin - had spent the majority of her youth with anyone but her parents. 

Flash forward again and you were graduating from Hudson. It was probably the best day of your life at that point. It was the first time you’d felt successful. No one got you into that school; you’d worked hard and earned it. You had a career path lined up and you were dating someone who you just knew was the one. You rolled your eyes, remembered how you’d broken up two months later when he’d accidentally called you while having a heavy petting session with someone else. Oops. 

Then, it happened. You were watching your adult self, your professional adult self, swoon over Sonny Carisi. He was everything to you, and he was the reason you weren’t with the conscious living. Well, no, you corrected yourself. It wasn’t really his fault, you were just a victim of circumstances. 

“Not everyone can handle the shit you’ve seen.” A voice that you didn’t recognize was in your ear, focusing your attention away from the scene in front of you. When you turned to the side you were greeted by a woman who looked like you, but maybe if you’d taken a few wrong paths and hadn’t slept in a few weeks. “I regret what I did to you, Y/N. I do. But, I’m glad to see you’re okay.” 

It took you a second to realize you were talking to your own birth mother. “I can’t say I forgive you, Diane. But, I can say that I’m not exactly okay. Look, I’m watching the highest and lowest points of my life over. It’s not exactly entertaining.” 

When she opened her mouth again, it wasn’t her voice anymore. It was the voice of your adoptive mother. “Maybe if you’d never been together, this wouldn’t have happened. I do not give you my blessing. My husband doesn’t approve, either, if you’d like to know. He knows people, so if you ever think you’re going to move on to something else in your life, you’d better think about what I’ve said.” 

Nothing was making sense. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe, like gravity was much stronger and focused solely on crushing you. 

You heard Sonny’s voice, and how sweet it was. “Listen, Mrs. Gardella, with all due respect, I didn’t intend for your daughter to get hurt. You need to understand, I love her and I stopped at nothing to find her. I am sincerely apologetic for all that has happened but I think that if Y/N woke up right now and I wasn’t here, you’d get the opposite effect you were hopin’ for.” 

The continued pressure was becoming too much to bear. You shrieked at the tops of your lungs and clenched your fists at your side, but suddenly there was something in one of your hands: sheets. Your other arm had ceased to work. You sat up and looked around wildly. You were back in your hospital room, but this time Sonny was there, along with your mother and the doctor. 

“Sonny’s not going anywhere, god dammit,” you snapped, ripping the sheets from your body and reaching for him. “Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave me.” 

“How long have I been here?” you asked Sonny after you’d finally demanded that everyone leave the room unless they were a medical professional, or Sonny. 

He couldn’t stop touching you. His hands were on your face, your hands, your thigh. “Three days. You’ve been here three days. You were missing for nearly two weeks.” 

You frowned and grasped onto his hands. “Thank you for finding me, Sonny. I owe you my life.” 

“I thought I was gonna lose you, doll. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t woken up, or if I hadn’t found you,” he muttered and pulled you into a careful hug. You were bruised, sore, tired, everything. “When I found you in the back of that car you’d lost so much blood you were on the fine line between life and death. You had a blood infection, a stab wound, internal bleeding, nearly crushed larynx, and your arm was.. still is broken.” Suddenly he was crying, his face buried against your lap as he begged for you forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t been in your life.” 

You patted his head gently and fumbled with the cup of water next to your bed. You were so thirsty it was painful. “I don’t blame you, I promise, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I realized that when I was taking my exceptionally long nap,” you soothed, rubbing his back idly. “I love you. Look at me, Sonny, and tell me that even when I look like this, you still love me.” 

He sat up and placed his hand against your cheek. “I love you no matter what, you know that. But I need to tell you something.” 

“What?” 

“We didn’t get Nicole. I.. I don’t know where she went, and I was focused on getting you help that I stayed at your side. Someone said that they heard she’d gone into hiding.” His poor eyes were misty and tired. “I’m gonna kill her when I find her.” 

“Not if I find her first,” you warned - only have serious. You were obviously in no position to go after anyone, and what skill set did you have beyond the severe desire to survive? 

Weeks passed and you found yourself settled in a new apartment, with a new roommate. Sonny had asked you and you agreed, for safety and for the simple fact that you loved one another. You awoke in the middle of the night quite often, but he was always there to console you and keep you under his wing. You went back to work a month after your hospital stay, and you were pleased to see how well everyone had adjusted to your trauma. At the suggestion of Olivia, you began seeing a crisis counselor. It seemed stupid for you at first, but you soon began to realized that you needed to work through your fears and your concerns about what had happened. Sonny said that they’d done a full exam and there was no sign of sexual assault, but you’d come so close so many times it felt like it might have actually happened. 

Sonny had taken it upon himself to share some of his old family secrets with you in the kitchen. It was a good way to bond and an even better way to make sure that you were able to focus on something beyond your thoughts. 

“Sonny!” You screamed suddenly, turning to him and grabbing his arm. “I just thought of something. Oh, I’m so sorry I just remembered!” Things came back in pieces as your therapist had said they would, but this one was massive. “Paulie said that he’d raped someone in Connecticut and they’d never run the kit, but he said it was him. Is there anyway to use that against him, somehow, to get him to crack? He knows where that psychotic little bitch went, I’m telling you. He knows.” 

He cupped your face and kissed you. It tasted like tomatoes and garlic, and you’d never felt more in love. “Give me two minutes,” he urged and ran from the room, phone to his ear. You heard him telling Olivia what you’d just told him, and he ran back into the room still on the phone. “Did he say where?” 

You shook your head and sighed. “No, just that he always broke his play things.” Without knowing it, you’d told Sonny that not only had Paulie sexually assaulted these women, he killed them. 

He relayed the message and ended the call, putting his phone on the counter. “C’mere,” he said softly and pulled you to his chest. His head rested atop yours and he swayed you back and forth slowly, dancing to some inaudible music in his head. “I’m leaving SVU. I got offered a position with the DA’s office in the Bronx. It’s safer. Better hours, I’ll be with you more.” 

“You didn’t need to do that, angel. I’m fine, you know? I really am.” 

He shushed you and kissed the top of your head. “No, you’re not, and you don’t have to be. I got no expectations for you to turn your feelings off, so you better keep going to therapy and you need to tell me anytime you need me - I don’t care what it is.” 

The next time Olivia sat down with Paulie, she presented him with more evidence than he’d expected. He was facing life without parole for the murder of Arabella Gardenza, in addition to your aggravated assault and kidnapping. “Connecticut, however, offered the death penalty, and she was sure the ADA would push for that.” A lie, but it was effective. 

Nicole Santoro was found several days later in Vermont, not too far from the town you were born in. Medical officials said she had been dead for nearly three weeks when they found her. It was ruled a suicide and the elation on Sonny’s face was undeiable when you saw him later. 

He met you for lunch to give you the good news and told you he needed to ask you something very important. 

“Ask way, Sonny.” You were slated to get your cast off in a few days and had fought the urge for so long to pick at the gauzy, chalky material. It was irritating you and getting in the way of you finishing your lunch. 

“I...” he was hesitating. His face was red and he was sweating in the cool air of March. “Y/N.. it’s just, it’s really important.” 

You nodded and set your sandwich down. 

He knelt in front of you and pulled a box from his pocket. “Marry me, Y/N?” he asked, opening the velvet keeper to reveal a princess cut ruby on a white gold band. 

You said yes and cried happy tears, a thing you hadn’t experienced before. It was a blur, but somehow he convinced you to marry him at the Bronx courthouse that afternoon, surrounded by family and friends. It was beautiful, just like you knew it would be. You were Mrs. Sonny Carisi. 

Paulie stood trial and you testified against him for your case for what felt like decades. He was given four consecutive life sentences without the option for parole once the trial was finally over. A little bird told you that shortly after he was sent to prison, he fell victim to a gang initiation. 

That night, you slept peacefully for the first time in nearly a year, which was good, because you were expecting baby Carisi in only five short months. 

[[THANK YOU GUYS! Your support has been nothing less than amazing! I hope you enjoyed AMA and I am looking forward to the next adventure. <3]]