#knocked out dead on this early monday morning

[gojoest]

anytime i am reminded of how insanely tall satoru is i think about him fucking you standing up effortlessly holding you over his groin and splitting you in half while you’re gripping your hands around his neck with no other choice than to take the fall on his cock over and over and over and over

[msschemmenti]

monday morning guest

emily prentiss x reader

summary: emily gets a surprise visitor in the bullpen on monday morning.

a/n: crack idea i got driving past my neighbors house.

monday morning— bright and early. the bau team was finally back from a two week stent of back to back cases and emily was finally starting to settle into her role as unit chief. she was no hotch, but she was relying pretty heavily on her interpol experience and the bond the team had built over the years. with such a close knit team, it was always very easy to spot new comers in the office.

so when a woman breezed through the glass doors of the bullpen, emily wasn’t surprised to catch garcia’s bright pink cardigan hurrying after her to intercept the mystery woman. what she was surprised to see was a face she knew all too well.

y/n y/ln. in dc. in her bullpen? what alternate universe could she possibly have walked into this morning. she turned hastily to the mirror she kept in her office and started fluffing her hair quickly. she hadn’t seen y/n since her college graduation and it’s safe to say she looks very different now. not bad per say but older. feeling satisfied with her hair she rifled through her purse for some lipstick and anything to make her not look like it was monday morning.

down in the bullpen, y/n smiled at the brightly colored woman she��d just been stopped by. she scanned the bullpen over her shoulder hoping to catch sight of emily. after hearing the older woman had returned [allegedly from the dead], she hoped on the opportunity to pay her a visit while she was in town.

“good morning beautiful stranger. welcome to the bau, my name is penelope. can i help you with something?” the woman bounced in anticipation.

“hello, penelope. i’m actually looking for someone. your new unit chief actually.” y/n spoke as she shuffled the folder in her hand to shake penelope’s hand.

“emily? emily prentiss? do you have a crime case you’d like assistance on?” garcia asked.

“yes and no. she and i have some business to take care of, now that she’s returned stateside.” y/n smiled waving the folder in front of garcia.

“oh? business to take care of…” garcia repeated sweeping her eyes from the woman in front of her and emily’s office.

“mmhm. do you think she’s available for a little chat?” y/n asked nodding in amusement at the quirky woman.

“well i would think so— who should i say is here?”

“oh where are my manners, i’m y/n. she should remember me.” y/n smiled as garcia nodded her understanding before heading up the stairs to emily’s office.

“ma’am,” garcia spoke knocking on the open door of emily’s office.

“please stop calling me ma’am.” emily sighed wearily.

“sorry, im just nervous. there’s a really pretty woman down there saying she’s here to see you. and that you’ve got official business to take care of. well i don’t think she said official but she definitely said business. and she waved a folder in front of me. are you being sued or something?” garcia rambled.

emily eyed the tech analyst as she rambled and as she took a breath she held her hand up to stop her before she could start again. “y/n y/ln, right?”

“y/n— yes. i don’t know her last name but she said you should remember her. do you want me to go get her?”

“no, no. i’ll come down myself.” emily rose from the desk, giving herself another once over in the mirror before moving toward garcia and the door.

“wait, what was that?” garcia asked curiously.

“what— what was what? what are you talking about?” emily asked obliviously.

“did you just check yourself out? are you primping yourself? did you reapply your lipstick? oh this just got so much more interesting. who is this woman?” garcia jumped.

“i-what no to all of that,” emily lied as her cheeks heated. “and she’s just a friend from my college days.”

“yeah but what kind of friend? i don’t primp in my office when my college friends come to see me.”

emily peeked around the door frame into the bullpen and caught sight of y/n looking right back at her. the woman sent a flirty wave up toward the office and laughed softly as she watched emily’s cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“not now garcia.” emily mumbled as she straightened her clothes out one more time before descending the stairs to meet y/n. “y/n, what a surprise. what’s it been 10 years?”

“far more than that, em. you look good.” y/n smirked.

“wow, obviously not as good as you. garcia said you came on business?” emily replied trying and failing to tame the blush she’d been sporting since she headed down to the bullpen.

“well yes. and may i just say, you are one hard woman to track down.” y/n shook her head with a laugh.

“oh don’t i know it!��� garcia piped in from her placed leaned against jj’s desk. at the intrusion, emily sent a glare her way. penelope grimaced and turned to face jj in fear.

“you’ve been looking for me?” emily asked curiously.

“i have for quite a while actually,” y/n smiled softly before waving the folder in emily’s direction. “we’re still married. and have been for about 20 years now. and let me just say, you’ve got a hell of a lot of anniversary gifts to make up for babe.”

“married?!” garcia exclaimed before slapping her hand over her mouth.

emily’s eyes widened exponentially as she caught all of the team’s eyes on her. the shock was evident on everyone’s face and she honestly couldn’t wash it off her own face.

“how about we go to my office and talk about this?” emily recovered, grabbing the folder and nodding toward the office upstairs.

“of course.” y/n nodded and followed emily into the office.

emily pointedly closed the door on prying eyes and turned to face y/n, “now that you’ve successfully fueled the office gossip fire for at least the next month. married for 20 years? is this about the netherlands? didn’t we get that annulled after we got back?”

“i thought so too. until i was a few weeks out from my wedding and they let us know that i was still in fact married according to netherlandian law.” y/n shrugged collapsing onto the couch.

“well i don’t think they call it netherlandian law,” emily paused catching the first part of what y/n said. “oh! you’re engaged. and i’m keeping you from getting married. i can try to get garcia to pull some strings online to help get the divorce finalized faster. or i can call someone over at interpol, im sure they can do something.”

y/n chuckled affectionately, “well while i appreciate the fact that you’d abuse your access to government resources for my sake. that ship has long sailed. the fact i was still married was the least of our problems. but i found that out and tried to track you down and that’s when your mother, still as lovely as i remember, let me know you had died.” y/n deadpanned, leveling emily with a look she knew very well.

“yeah, that was a whole thing.” emily grimaced.

“uh huh, im sure it was. after that, i just went with the whole widowed thing for a bit. until i heard again from your mother, so lovely, that you were alive again.”

“i didn’t realize you and my mother spoke so frequently.” emily mumbled taking a seat on the couch as well.

“you just keep giving us reasons to gab. anyways, i was in the states and figured id try to catch you after all these years. i brought the papers and figured you could sign them.”

“of course. i wouldn’t want to keep you from another marriage.” emily nodded hastily grabbing a pen to sign off.

“ah i figured you’d have run into the issue before me.”

emily dotted her and slid the folder back to y/n, “no, no one worth marrying. well besides you apparently.”

y/n smiled and giggled, “had i been aware, i would’ve been a far better wife to you but at least i didn’t widow you.”

“oh come on! what do you want me to say? had i known we were still married, i wouldn’t have died?” emily laugh incredulously.

“you had a wife to come home to, it could’ve been motivation.”

emily’s smile was free and contagious, “god you haven’t changed a bit.”

“not much sweet, but i can tell you have. lot of responsibility you got here agent.” y/n smiled sadly. “i hope you’re taking care of yourself. and your team.” there was a beat of admiration that washed over y/n’s face before she sighed and gathered the papers. “listen i’ll get out of your hair. thanks for divorcing me. always a pleasure seeing you.” y/n stood from the couch, emily following.

“of course, are you headed back right away?” emily asked hopefully.

“no i’m in the states for a bit for work, why?” y/n asked.

“oh i was just curious. figured maybe i could make up for this 20 anniversary dinners i missed.”

y/n grinned, “agent prentiss, are you asking me on a date?”

“i think i might be asking you on at least 20, if you want to of course.”

y/n walked over to emily’s desk and grabbed a pen and sticky note. scribbling something down and tucked the post it in emily’s blazer pocket with a smirk. “you better get planning then.” y/n threw a wink over her shoulder and left the office with a smile. all the agents scattered to make it seem like they weren’t intently trying to figure out what was going on behind the closed door. y/n stopped at garcia and smiled sweetly, “thank you penelope. have a good day everyone.”

everyone mumbled their replies and watched as emily’s alleged wife exit the bullpen. as soon as the elevators closed they all hurried up the stairs to emily’s open door.

“you’re married?!” garcia was the first to exclaim and emily sighed in exasperation. she eyed her chosen family and knew she wasn’t getting out of answering this. at all.

[humanpurposes]

Just for a Moment, part iv

Tom Bennett has a habit of climbing through her bedroom window whenever he's in trouble // Main Masterlist

Tom Bennett x OFC

Warnings: 18+, mentions of war and death, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, Tom Bennett's daddy issues, death, mourning/grief

Words: 8100

A/n: This acts as a final part and an epilogue. Also available to read on AO3.

In early June, Lois Bennett knocks on the Wheelans’ front door. She has tears in her bright blue eyes and her hands are shaking.

“It’s our Tom,” she says, when Kitty has sat her down at the kitchen table and made her a cup of strong tea. “He’s missing.”

A hole tears itself in her chest.

His ship had been part of the evacuation at Dunkirk– a triumph, so the headlines say. But that’s the way of the world, she thinks, men lay down their lives, others have their lives taken from them by force, and all the while the press and the politicians declare each one a step towards peace.

“You think Churchill and Hitler give a flying fuck about peace?” her father says one night as he nurses a glass of whisky. “They want victory.”

Every night as she lies in bed, she imagines some new possibility. Tom could have run to safety, sought refuge in the town or gone elsewhere. Maybe he’s just biding his time, maybe he’s on his way back to her.

He can’t be dead. He just can’t be.

He promised he would come home to her.

Monday 2nd September, 1940

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the sirens, that blunt, whirring, wailing noise that sparks a primal fear in her chest. Somehow she always wakes up before they go off, like her instincts can alert her of what’s coming just a second before the noise begins.

The baby starts to scream from the space beside her– since Lois has started working as an ambulance driver, she leaves Vera with them most nights. With shaking hands, Kitty takes her into her arms, keeping her close to her chest as she fixes a woolly hat over her head.

“I’m sorry darling, I know,” she says, pulling the hat over Vera’s ears. She keeps meaning to buy some earmuffs for her, but then, it’s not her baby.

It’s pitch black in the house, it has to be. No lights or candles allowed unless you want the Germans to drop a bomb on your house. Kitty keeps one hand on the wall as she finds the stairs, and hurries down to the kitchen. Mam and dad’s footsteps follow behind her.

They have a routine by now. Dad grabs a coleman and a box of matches, mam grabs a photo from the front room and a basket with bread and blackberry jam, and Kitty holds tight to Vera. Then they file out the back door, into the garden, down the ladder into the shelter. Dad shuts the door, lights the lamp, and finally they can all see each other. 

Then comes the waiting. Some nights dad sings The Fields of Athenry and Kitty joins in. Vera seems to love singing, her eyes go wide and she lays completely still against Kitty, hypnotised by the humming in her chest. 

After a few slices of bread to keep them going, dad lies along the bench and closes his eyes and mam takes Vera into her arms. “Get some rest, love,” she tells Kitty.

How can she? Beyond the shelter the world is nothing but uncertainty, sirens sounding, bombs booming, spotlights and distant fires cutting through the darkness. Only the morning will tell what the true damage is, once the sun starts to rise and the smoke and dust have settled. Houses and livelihoods will be left as rubble. More lives lost, people who didn’t sign up, people who couldn’t, people who thought they might at least be safe in their own homes.

She looks at the photograph mam always brings in from the house. It’s of the four of them, Eddie, Art, Stevie and Kitty, lined up in the front room before the eldest two Wheelans left for the continent, over a year ago now. Eddie and Art look handsome in their uniforms and Stevie is uncharacteristically glum. He hated that he didn’t sign up sooner, he said he didn’t want to look like the one being left behind.

They all came home after Dunkirk, a few precious weeks when the world felt normal again.

Only not quite.

Because she still spent every night alone, and Tom Bennett was still gone.

“Where’s Douglas?”

Kitty snaps her attention to mam, as dad starts to stir on the bench.

“Eh?” he grumbles, “he’ll be along now in a minute, I’m sure.”

They wait. 

And keep waiting.

The bombs dropping on Longsight are louder than they’ve ever been before. Closer than they’ve ever been before. Each thunderous crash rocks the ground and the walls of their shelter.

BOOM– the roof trembles.

BOOM– dust and dirt fall from above them.

“We’ll be alright, here,” dad says, beckoning Kitty to sit between the two of them. 

They huddle together. Kitty curls her knees into her chest like a child and leans into her father’s embrace. Mam has Vera on her lap and places a hand on Kitty’s knee.

BOOM– mam whimpers and Vera is crying again. Dad holds her tighter.

BOOM– Kitty reaches for one of Vera’s tiny hands, and she clutches tightly onto her finger.

Then a final, earsplitting BOOM. The bench jolts beneath them. Kitty clings to her family and squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for something awful to happen.

Only it doesn’t. The bombs become fainter.

They slowly pull away from each other, looking each other in the eyes and nodding, to make sure they’re all alright– as much as they can be.

When the all clear sounds, they make their way back into the house.

Glass litters the floor of the front room. The windows are shattered, so is the glass cabinet with mam’s best china, photographs are cracked. Anything that isn’t broken has been blown back by the force of a hit.

Through the tatters of the curtains and a haze of smoke, a fire burns out on the street. 

Dad calls her name as she runs for the front door and yanks it open, but she can’t bring herself to step past the threshold.

The feels the heat against her face, as number 27 has been reduced to a pile of burning rubble.

The AFS arrives in time to stop dad from digging through the remains in search of Douglas himself.

Everything that belongs to the Bennetts is crushed under brick or goes up in flames. 

It’s like losing Tom all over again. The house where he grew up, the kitchen where Josie used to feed the Bennett and Wheelan kids ginger beer and sandwiches, the bedroom that smelled of cigarette smoke, where he told her he loved her, exist only as memories.

She doesn’t go to bed that night– there are only a few hours until daylight anyway. She sweeps up the glass in the front room and the bedrooms while dad boards up the window frames. Hardly any light reaches inside the house, the air is still thick and hazy with lingering smoke, so they keep the back door open. It airs the place out, but lets in the cold too.

When Kitty answers the door in the morning, Lois’ back is facing her. She’s still in her uniform with her hair in a neat bun and a helmet in her hand. 

“Lois?”

She turns towards Kitty with her lips slightly parted in a passive expression. “Dad’s gone,” she mutters. And once she says it the vacancy melts into grief. “He’s gone,” she cries, “everything’s gone!”

Kitty leads her into the house, but there’s nowhere comfortable to sit. The front room is in tatters and the kitchen is a mess with everything they’ve managed to salvage piled onto the table and chairs. 

“Tea?” Kitty asks quietly, but she feels stupid for asking.

Lois leans against the wall and holds her face in her hand as she cries.

Kitty unsurely places a hand on Lois’ shoulder and tries to think of something to say, but all she can think of is “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

First her mam, then Harry, then Tom, now her dad. She must feel like her life is slipping away.

Mam appears from upstairs, dressed for the factory with Vera in her arms.

Kitty frowns as she hands the baby to her. Lois has lost her father and her home in one night, and her mother hardly looks phased.

“There’s still work to be done, Kitty,” she says, grabbing her coat before she leaves through the front door with her head and shoulders straight.

But this is just war. Men die in trenches and on beaches, bombs fall on cities, tragedy unfolds and they Keep Calm and Carry On.

Kitty carries Vera into the kitchen, but she doesn’t like the sound of her mother crying. Her little face goes red and twists before she makes a sound, then she’s crying too, burying her head into Kitty’s chest and clinging to her arms with those small, pudgy hands.

Lois doesn’t look up, like she can’t hear her daughter crying at all.

Sunday 29th September, 1940

Weeks go by. Douglas is interred with his wife, in the churchyard of St Jospeh’s. Kitty spends her days in the shop and her nights in the shelter, rocking Vera through the air raids, humming lullabies and muttering stories about her brave mam and her fearless uncle Tom.

The Wheelans never used to go to church every week, but mam insists now, anything for their family to be kept safe. As they head home, Kitty looks up the hill, to the gravestone she knows is marked Josie Bennett. She pictures Tom and Lois standing by the graveside at the funeral, twelve years ago now. It doesn’t feel that long ago they were all children.

She walks ahead of her parents– dad’s been having trouble with his knees and it slows him down. Her head is hung, she’s staring at her shoes, the same black pair of shoes she wears everywhere.

What’s she got to walk so fast for anyway? Their house doesn’t feel much like a home anymore. They at least have the windows fixed, but she tends to keep her curtains drawn, because where she used to look out to Tom’s bedroom window, there’s just empty space. 

What’s the point in rushing home to a house that isn’t safe? That’s ghostly and quiet? That has a bomb shelter instead of a garden? What’s the point in carrying on when surviving the night is something they have to hope for? When each day brings a possibility that Eddie, Art or Steive could be missing or dead? What’s the point in clinging onto hope if Tom is truly gone? What’s the point? What’s the point? What’s the point?

Someone knocks frantically on one of the doors ahead, their door she realises. Her vision is blurry through tears, but she can make out the shape of a tall man, with dirty blond hair.

She blinks.

“Tom?”

His body collides into hers. He hugs her so tightly he crushes her chest but she doesn’t care. He could squeeze the life from her and she wouldn’t care, as long as she gets to hold him. Her hands find their way to grasp at his neck and his hair, pulling him closer and crying silently into his neck.

He doesn’t smell like cigarettes, which she finds unusual. He smells like dirt and sweat, and when he pulls away from her she realises he’s dressed in a khaki blazer, slacks that are too big for him and a mismatching grey shirt. 

“What happened–”

He looks frantic, stroking his hands over her hair and down to cup the sides of her face. “Kitty, I’m sorry, I know it’s been a mad few months but where are they, dad and Lois? Are they safe?”

He doesn’t know. How could he? Lois tried to send a letter. Where would it be now? Collecting dust or sitting at the bottom of a pile of unimportant paperwork in a naval office because there was nowhere for it to go. 

Her eyes well with tears all over again. His face is leaner, the lines of his jaw and cheeks more defined, the left side of his face littered with bruises and scars. She traces her fingers over his cheekbone, and down to the coarse, blond stubble along his jaw.

“Kitty,” he says, shortly, taking her hand away from his face. “Kitty, where are they? Tell me they’re okay.”

She glances over her shoulder. Mam and dad are approaching them now. Their faces mirror each other, confused, horrified, sympathetic.

“Come on,” she mutters, taking Tom’s hand and dragging him with her as she walks solemnly up Slade Grove. 

They stayed joined at the hip as they walk, Kitty curling slightly into his arm, their legs brushing with every stride, bumping into each other and pulling themselves back in.

His hand is warm and his grip is firm, but she can’t stop herself from shivering. As much as she wants to gaze up at him, melt into his embrace again, kiss every inch of his face, she can’t help but feel guilty. He doesn’t ask any more questions, or so much as speak a word, but the concern is written all over him, the clenched jaw and the stiff shoulders that don’t sway as he walks. 

She won’t be the one to tell him, she can’t be.

Lois has been living in a boarding house with Connie since the bomb hit. Mam had offered her a place at their house, but Lois wouldn’t take it. Luckily the house isn’t too far away, and when Lois opens the door, she’s utterly stunned.

Kitty waits outside, with her hands behind her back, leaning against the brick wall. Now her hands and her skin feel cold, so she tugs at her coat, keeping it tight around her body to keep out the autumn chill.

For a few moments she wonders if she hasn’t just made the whole thing up; Tom, waiting outside her door, running into her arms and vanishing again. She rubs her fingertips together. She had felt him as she feels her own skin now, she’s sure of it, the scars, the stubble, the hair on the back of his hand. 

Tom Bennett, her Tom Bennett, though not quite the same man he was, before whatever happened at Dunkirk, before the war, when his place in her life was vague but at least it was consistent. She knows things will be different again when he comes out of that house.

She hears raised voices through the door, the unmistakable, raspy bass of Tom’s anger. Lois shouts back. Then it goes quiet again.

Her heart leaps out of her chest when the door swings open. Tom slams it shut and turns his head around, frantically, before his eyes find her.

He opens his arms and falls into her. 

He lets out a few short gasps for breath as he leans his forehead against her shoulder and wraps his arms tightly around her waist. 

She stays like that for as long as he needs, until he pulls back for breath. His face is red, it only makes his eyes seem brighter.

“Sorry,” he mutters with a sniff, “haven’t even said a proper ‘hello’ to you yet.”

Given the circumstances, she thinks that’s forgivable. She runs her hands over the sides of his face, his ears and his overgrown mop of hair. 

“Hello,” she says.

Tom smiles, taking one of her hands in hiss and placing a peck to her knuckles. “Hello.”

They walk slowly back to Slade Grove. Tom is a little more subdued, but not quite settled.

She can only imagine the thoughts racing through his head. He wasn’t here to save his father, he wasn’t at the funeral, there was nothing he could save from his own home. Time has slipped by, the formalities have been carried out and Tom couldn’t have stopped any of it from happening. 

Mam opens the door, takes one look at Tom, and purses her lips.

Kitty rolls her eyes and pulls Tom into the hallway.

The house has been cleared up a little better recently. They’ve gotten rid of everything that was broken, mended the curtains and the tears in the sofas, only the front room feels empty and impersonal without the china cabinet and the photographs they couldn’t save. 

They walk on through to the kitchen, where dad is sitting by the wireless. He stands to take Tom’s hand. “Sorry for your loss, lad,” he says, giving it a short, firm shake.

“Cheers,” Tom mutters, “good to see you again, Mr Wheelan.”

Kitty makes tea and splits her rations of bacon and eggs between her and Tom. 

“We were part of the evacuation effort from Dunkirk,” Tom explains, looking up to Kitty as she sits beside him. “I don’t remember much, but I woke up in a hospital in Paris, bullets and shrapnel in my chest, and the doctors were telling me the Nazis had taken the city.”

“Bloody hell,” dad sighs.

Mam sits stiffly in her chair and sips her tea.

“They were telling me I had to register as a prisoner of war, but there was this American bloke, a doctor, he told me they were trying out an escape route through Gibraltar.”

“We thought you were dead,” Kitty says. “Lois showed us the telegram. We all thought you were dead.”

She can see Tom’s hand flinch as if to reach out to her, but he stops himself and clenches his fist. He turns back to her parents across the table. “I had to die, officially like, they had some spare bodies and put my name to some poor bastard with 80% burns–”

Mam clears her throat.

“Sorry,” Tom says, trying not to smile. “Had to walk to Spain, then hitched a ride with these two blokes to Gibraltar. Onto Plymouth from there, and then…” he trails off. He has a distant look in his eyes that reminds her of Lois.

“Home?” dad says.

Tom shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, ‘spose so.”

“Will you stay with Lois?” Kitty asks.

Tom gives her a pointed look.

The raised voices, the slammed door. Maybe not.

“You could stay with us,” she says.

Mam tilts her head. “Now wait a moment–”

“Of course,” dad says, “we’ve got three empty beds upstairs, I’m sure we’ll be able to spare one.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Tom says, slipping his hand under the table and brushing his fingers over Kitty’s knee. She checks her parents aren’t looking at her and tries not to smile.

Dad holds up his hand in the way that means his decision is final. “Not at all, lad. We’ve known you since you were a childer, I think it’s the least we could do for you now.” 

Lois drops Vera off at 5 o’clock, the usual time. She doesn’t ask about Tom, in fact she hardly looks Kitty in the eye as she hands the baby into her arms and places a bag by her feet. She presses a quick kiss to Vera’s head, and then she’s gone.

Tom is in the front room, splayed out on one of the sofas, flicking an unlit cigarette through his fingers– because if he smoked in the house, mam would actually kill him. He sits up when Kitty walks in with the baby on her hip.

She sits beside him and places Vera on her lap.

Tom takes one of her little hands, and his thumb is almost the size of her palm. “Can’t believe she named the kid after my fucking canary,” he grumbles.

“Tom,” Kitty chides.

“Fuck, sorry– fuck.”

Vera lets out a vague gurgling sound and Kitty giggles. “Say it enough, it might be her first word.”

He chuckles, and gently waves Vera’s arm about. “When do babies usually start talking?”

“Give her a chance, she can’t even sit up yet.”

He strokes his finger along the baby’s cheek, and grins when he coaxes a smile out of her. But it’s like he stops himself, pressing his lips together as his eyes darken.

“What happened with you and Lois?” Kitty asks.

Tom heaves a heavy breath and takes his hand away from Vera. “I lashed out.”

“Christ, Tom.”

“She left dad alone,” he says.

If she didn’t have a baby in her lap, she thinks she could throttle him. “It wasn’t her fault,” Kitty snaps. “She couldn’t have saved him. No one could have. 

He turns to face her with a devastated look in his eyes, the kind of look he makes when he knows she’s right. “How did it happen?”

She shifts Vera in her lap. “We didn’t see, we were in the shelter. We heard the bombs getting closer, and when we heard the all clear…” she blinks a few tears from her eyes. She doesn’t mean to cry, and she feels ridiculous, crying over Tom’s father when he’s sitting beside her.

Tom shifts closer to her, and wipes her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

Tom nods, running his hand over Vera’s head. “He died thinking I was gone. He didn’t know I was alright.” He draws his tongue between his lips. “But he’ll be happy now, with mum and that.”

“I hope so,” she says.

“And I didn’t leave things on a bad note,” he says, keeping his eyes on Vera, “like you told me. I shook his hand before I left.”

“See? When has my advice ever let you down?” she says, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible through the thick feeling in her throat.

Tom keeps his chin tilted down but he looks up to her. He looks more peaceful than he did this morning. His lips are settled in their natural curve, his brow is soft, and there’s a sadness in his eyes that he won’t allow to become more than a glisten.

“Never has,” he says with a smile.

He shuffles closer to her, cautiously cupping the side of her face like he’s forgotten how.

She instantly leans into him, bringing their foreheads together until she can feel his breath echoing over her lips.

It’s been so long since she’s felt him in the way she wants. She’s hardly given herself a moment to even realise that he’s here, that her months of anguish are finally done because he’s safe, he’s alive, and he still didn’t break his promise to her.

“I missed you,” she whispers. If she speaks any louder she worries her voice might falter.

Tom draws his thumb over her cheek and nudges his nose against hers. “Kitty,” he utters. His lips twitch like he can’t quite find the words he wants.

“I know,” she breathes. “I know.”

He angles his head a little before he leans in closer and presses a soft kiss to her lips, and her heart breaks a hundred times over. She feels his sadness in the tentative movements of his mouth, like he’s still scared, like he’s waiting for something bad to happen.

So she pours all her longing and reassurance into him, as far as she can without speaking or pausing for breath. She holds onto his neck and deepens their kiss with firm lips and a deft tongue. 

She wants to feel him, long after they’ve parted. She wants to remember how he feels, the warmth he gives her, the way his little hums make her feel weightless and set her skin alight.

Now, in this moment, the world feels perfect. 

Until Vera makes a whining noise that means she wants attention.

Kitty pulls away with a short gasp, moving Vera to her hip and she stands and tries to bounce her into content.

“She’s probably hungry,” Kitty says, and nods to the bag Lois dropped off earlier. “Her formula’s in there, bring it into the kitchen.”

Tom does as he’s told and pulls the tub out of the bag. He walks into the corridor first, and as Kitty goes to follow he stops, and turns to her.

“You look good with a baby by the way,” he says with a grin.

She scorns herself for the thrill it sends through her stomach. “Don’t, you’ll give my mam a heart attack.”

At 6 o’clock, they put the lights out for the blackout, with only the fading sunset to light the kitchen as Kitty makes a vegetable stew and spuds for dinner. Thankfully they have some beef stock she can throw in as well, which stops dad from complaining that “just veg doesn’t count as a meal.”

Evenings are tense and uncertain now. They all try to make small talk with each other over dinner, but silences are frequent and imposing. 

Once they’ve eaten, Kitty puts Vera to bed and mam and dad head upstairs shortly after, hoping to get as much sleep as they can before the sirens start.

Tom sits in the lounge, on a sofa by the window, keeping the curtains open just an inch, but all there is to see is black.

“It’s cloudy,” he says as Kitty appears in the doorway in her nightie. “Can’t even see the moon.”

She comes to join him, curling up into his lap and placing her head on his shoulder. “That’s good news for us.”

Tom wraps his arms around her and kisses her head.

The sky stays cloudy and quiet all night, no droning of planes, no sirens. 

All she hears is the sound of his breathing and his lips against her skin as he nuzzles into her neck, kissing and nipping at her skin.

“Did you miss me?” she finds herself saying.

Tom pauses and pulls his face away from her with a furrowed brow. “Do you really think I thought of anything else?” he says. “It was all that got me through, the thought of coming home to you.”

In the morning she wakes with a sliver of sunlight creeping over her eyes, still in Tom’s arms, still clinging to him. 

Lois comes to collect Vera before Kitty leaves for her shift at the shop.

“Is Tom with you?” Lois asks as kitty lowers Vera into the pram.

Kitty hesitates. “Yes,” she says, bracing herself for Lois to storm in and start shouting at him. 

He appears in the doorway, with his head down and his hands in his pockets. 

“I’m going to the churchyard,” Lois says to him, “if you’d like to see mum and dad.”

Tom looks to Kitty and she sighs, overemphasising the movement of her chest as she breathes. Don’t leave it on a bad note.

He looks back to Lois and forces a small smile. “Yeah.”

Tom stays with the Wheelans, sleeping in the boys’ bedroom, in the bed closest to the door. Each night, once Vera and her parents are asleep, Kitty steals into his bedroom and tucks herself into the space beside him.

“It feels funny like this, doesn’t it?” she whispers to him, brushing her lips over his cheek as she throws her arms around him and presses herself into his back.

“What, you being the one sneaking around?” he says, falling onto his back so she can drape herself over his bare chest.

“It’s exciting,” she says, kissing a path along his jaw and down his neck. “I don’t see why you got to have all the fun.”

“Made it worth your while, didn’t I?” She can hear him grinning as she reaches the hollow of his throat. She swipes her tongue over his skin and delights when he suppresses a grunt and grasps at her hips. 

She sits herself up, letting her nightgown hitch up to her hips as she starts to rock against him.

Tom slips a hand between her thighs and smiles when he swipes his thumb over her bare cunt. “Right little whore I’ve turned you into, hmm?”

Kitty braces herself against her chest and nods, as Tom presses into her, dragging from her entrance to her pearl.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers. “All for me?”

“All for you,” she breathes as he starts to circle over her most sensitive spot. “Fuck–”

Tom places a finger to her lips as he keeps working over her. “Shh, you have to be quiet, you know that.”

She nods again, dreamily, moving her hips against him, adding and withdrawing pressure to his movements, treading the line between pleasure and longing. Until she falls apart, shuddering, pressing her lips together tightly and snatching back the one wanton whimper that sounds in her throat.

“Good girl,” Tom snarls. His hips are bucking against her and his jaw is tight. “Good fucking girl.”

She wastes no time slipping his cock free from his briefs and sinks herself down onto his length. He’s done for with only a few rolls of her hips, pulling out before he finishes and spilling himself onto her stomach.

He’s so pretty when he comes, with a silent sigh, his jaw hanging open and his nostrils flaring. Every part of his body tenses, his abs, his neck, his shoulders, as he squeezes his eyes shut tight and throws his head back against the pillows. 

Another perfect moment, she thinks, bright and beautiful, and already slipping away.

He registers with the navy again, and in a few weeks he has his next assignment.

Before he leaves, Kitty insists on getting out Eddie’s camera (even though he’d kill her if he knew he went near it), and takes some photos of Vera for Tom to keep while he’s away.

She takes some of him too. They’re hardly high art– he wouldn’t stop laughing at his own snarky comments, but she manages one ‘serious’ one. 

His mouth is halfway to a smirk, his smile lines apparent around his mouth, but his eyes are dark and almost sinister. He hates it but there’s nothing he can do to stop her from keeping it in the envelope of one of his letters, under her pillow for safekeeping with the rest of the pieces she has of him.

He has leave in the new year, and then he’s back in October, just over two years since he first left.

By then Lois is gone. She had come into the shop, with a letter for Tom and Kitty in the pram. She had said she was going to leave her with Robina.

“Over my dead body you are,” Kitty said before she could think it through. Mam and dad were slightly horrified when she came home early from work with baby Vera in a pram and all of her belongings in a bag.

Vera is a right little character now, a stubborn but happy girl. When Tom comes back to Longsight, he stays with the Wheelans again, and he’s utterly devoted to his niece. When Kitty’s at work, he walks into the shop with Vera in his arms to buy her a bar of Cadbury’s ration chocolate. It’s awful and bitter, but it’s the only kind Vera has known and she treats it like gold dust. 

When Mr Gregory gives Kitty a few days off, she and Tom take her for walks to the park. It’s freezing, but she’s happy enough wrapped up in a coat and a woolly hat, squealing with delight when Tom picks her up and places her on his shoulders.

How remarkable are kids, that they can so easily forget about worries and fears, as long as they have something that keeps them happy.

Even with Douglas and Lois gone, she hopes Tom knows that something still remains.

Time slips away too quickly. Suddenly Tom’s in his uniform again, ditty slung over his shoulder. He takes Vera into his arms and hugs her tightly into his chest. “Be good for your aunty Kitty,” he says, “and take care of her until I get back.”

Vera nods frantically.

He says goodbye to dad like an old friend, and even mam has warmed to him a bit now. Kitty sees the way her mother looks between her and Tom, the knowing nod of her head. It’s acceptance, and she’ll take it.

“Shall we?” Tom says, taking Kitty’s hand and leading her through the door.

It’s a short walk to the bus stop, then a twenty minute ride into the city. She keeps a tight hold of Tom’s hand the entire way.

They settle in seats at the back of the bus. It’s the middle of the day, kids are in school and their parents are at work. Only a few other seats are filled.

“Thank you,” Tom says as the bus pulls away from the stop.

“For what?” Kitty says.

“For being there,” he says, “for looking out for dad when he was around, for taking care of Vera, and me.”

She wants to frown, but can’t bring herself to. “Of course,” she says, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. “Of course.”

Tom’s been assigned to HMS Prince of Wales, docked at Scapa Flow in Scotland. His train leaves within the hour, and the moment they step off the bus onto the busy streets of Manchester, she feels herself walking slower. 

Tom keeps going, letting her fall behind him slightly, but never letting go of her.

No matter how she tries to drag this out, she cannot stop time altogether and they eventually reach the train station.

She could spend an eternity in his arms, cheek to cheek, breathing along with the rise and fall of his chest. 

“I want to do right by you,” Tom says.

“What do you mean?” she mutters. 

They still hold each other close; she doesn’t think she could bear to look at his face.

“Once the war is over, I’ll save up my wages, get us a place of our own. It’ll just be the two of us.”

“And Vera,” she adds.

“Yeah,” he says, stroking his hand up and down her back. “I’ll get a proper job. You should do that clerical training you’ve always talked about.”

No more sneaking around. No more nights cut short when he has to leave her.

He pulls away from her, keeping his hands on her waist. “I know your parents don’t trust me and your brothers think I’m a no-good-thieving-bastard. But I love you, Kitty, and I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

“Once the war is over?” she says.

“As soon as.”

“Tom,” she sighs. She doesn’t want to imagine the possibility, or speak it into existence, but it’s still there. “What if you don’t come back?”

Tom smiles with a small hum. “I’ve died once before, didn’t stop me coming back to you, did it?”

Kitty believes him wholeheartedly.

Thursday 11th December, 1941

Vera’s being fussy about her nap again. No matter how much Kitty tries to hush her, rock her, or hum a few lullabies, she just won’t settle.

Eventually she tries just holding Vera close to her chest, letting the side of her little head nestle just over her heart. She stops crying almost immediately.

“How hard could it be to look after a baby?” she asked herself when she refused to let Lois leave her daughter with Robina Chase. Quite hard, as it turns out. 

The peace doesn’t last for long. Mam’s shoes come clattering down the stairs, the doorbell rings and Vera starts wailing again. 

“Oh come here,” mam coos, taking Vera from Kitty’s arms. “You get the door, I’ll see this one gets her nap, eh?”

Kitty takes a quick breath before she opens the door. Hearing Vera cry makes her want to cry too. 

The postman stands below the front step with a telegram in his hands.

“Catherine,” he says with a polite smile, “haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Been… busy,” she says through Vera’s wails.

The postman hands her the telegram and she reads over the address: Lois Bennett, 27 Slade Grove, Longsight, Manchester, only there’s no house for it to be delivered to, and no Lois to take it.

She feels the tears start to prickle in her eyes as she waves him off, and when she shuts the door she can no longer stand. Suddenly she’s on the floor, her back against the door, unable to catch her breath as hot, stinging tears stream down her face and the telegram crumples under her fist.

She thinks maybe Vera keeps crying and mam calls her name, trying to get her to stand but she can’t. She just… can’t. A sinking feeling washes over her and keeps her pinned down, like the waves pummeling against the shore, over and over again. 

If there’s a telegram addressed to Lois, it can only mean one thing.

Tom.

Monday 24th December, 1945

The bus to Longsight stops outside the shop. She lifts Vera under the arms of her little red coat, onto the pavement, and takes a mittened hand in hers as they head inside. Mr Gregory sold it a few months ago and she doesn’t know the name of the new owners.

The woman behind the counter smiles down at Vera. “Aren’t you a gorgeous little madam?” she coos.

Vera rolls her eyes. “I’m not a baby, I’m five,” she says.

Kitty smiles to herself. “Bottle of sherry and a bag of Yorkshire mix, please,” she says. She crouches down beside Vera and spots a shelf of Christmas wrapping. “Go and pick out some ribbon for the bottle,” she whispers.

She pays for their items and Vera comes back with a bright red ribbon.

“Perfect,” Kitty says, and ties it into a bow around the neck.

As they walk towards Slade Grove, Kitty picks out some red sweets for Vera and a pear drop for herself. The rest she saves for later, finding she now prefers the sweets she never used to eat.

It’s nice and warm inside number 28. A Chorus of Christmas carols plays through the wireless from the kitchen, a backdrop to the bustle of the house. Mam is in the kitchen, making her final preparations for tomorrow’s dinner. Art helps her, albeit, his version of helping is pouring out gin and tonics. Dad, Eddie, Stevie and Connie are sat around the table, engrossed in a game of cards. But everyone stops when Vera comes bounding into the room, Kitty close behind her.

They each take their turns to smother her, and it feels good. Stevie practically jumps up and down as he hugs her, Art hands her a drink and Eddie hugs her the tightest. 

She manages a sip of her drink and places it on the table as she goes to greet her dad, still mulling over his hand of cards as he kisses her cheek. Then she goes to her mam, and hands her the bottle of sherry. 

“I chose the bow!” Vera proclaims proudly.

“And a lovely bow it is!” mam beams, placing the bottle amongst their Christmas stash of whisky, gin and dessert wine. “I have something for you, love,” she says.

“Oh?” Kitty asks as mam disappears into the front room. She comes back with a pot of poinsettias in a red pot, thick green leaves with bursts of blood red petals and golden seeds at their hearts.

“I thought we could put them out, tonight,” mam says.

Kitty opens her mouth to thank her, but she can’t. She nods as mam places her hand on her arm.

Even months after the war has ended, meat is still scarce, especially at this time of year, but mam had saved up her rations for a beautiful joint of beef, which she presents in the centre of the table.

It’s a cheerful occasion. The boys are rowdy, dad is quizzing Connie on her latest gig with her new band, mam is fussing over Vera.

Kitty watches them all. It’s hard not to feel like a ghost, an outlier, simply observing. Sometimes she thinks the others are still too scared to talk to her, in case she bursts into tears or shatters completely. She knows she won’t though. It’s Christmas. She’s supposed to be happy, surrounded by family and people she loves.

“We’re going to see her daddy for dinner tomorrow,” Vera says, stabbing at her boiled carrots.

“What’s Christmas dinner with Robina Chase like?” Stevie asks Kitty.

Her face freezes into a terrified smile to the others’ amusement. “No, it’s fine really,” she says. “Your grandma spoils you rotten, doesn’t she missus?”

Vera nods enthusiastically.

She’s such an easy girl to love. She has bright blue eyes, plump, rosy cheeks and dark brown curls, like her mother’s, kept in pigtails. But while her face is deceptively sweet, she has an awful habit for mischief and stubbornness. Kitty doesn’t mind that though. Girls should be stubborn, she thinks.

Stevie and Connie are expecting now. Dad insists it’s going to be a boy because he saw four magpies in the garden last week. They have a modest little house a few streets away and they’ve made it nice and homely. She’s had tea there and helped Stevie set up a crib for the nursery. 

After they’ve eaten, dad insists they all go to midnight mass, as he does every year, despite Kitty’s insistence that it’s much too late for Vera. Still, she puts her in a pretty blue dress and shiny black leather shoes, and makes Stevie promise he’ll be the one to carry her home.

The church is mostly shadows at night, a few candles and lamps doing their best to fight off the darkness and the cold. Vera hates it. She pulls her woolly hat over her ears, swings her legs and on three occasions asks “is he done talking yet?” She likes the hymns though, even if she doesn’t know the words, mouthing some kind of nonsense that has them all in fits of giggles.

And once it’s over, they don’t follow the path down to the street. Kitty leads the way, with the pot of poinsettias in her hands. Stevie follows behind her, carrying a sleepy Vera in his arms, curled into his chest.

She stops before the grave she first stood by seventeen years ago.

Josie Bennett

Douglas Bennett

and in loving memory of Thomas Bennett, 1919-1941

Kitty crouches down to lay the poinsettias down when Vera gives a little squeak in protest. “I want to do it!” she cries.

“Come on then, missus,” Kitty says.

Stevie lowers Vera and she rubs her tired eyes as she staggers to Kitty. She tries to take the pot but with her mittens she can’t get a good grip on it.

“Together?” Kitty asks.

“Yes please,” Vera says.

They place the flowers down together, making sure they don’t obstruct the names.

“There,” Vera says with a little huff. She reaches out and puts her hand on the stone, brushing over the names of her granny and granddad Bennett, and then she traces over the letters of Tom’s name.

Even seeing it written in stone, she doesn’t think it will ever truly sink in. 

A report said Tom had been in the makeshift aid centre on the main deck of the HMS Prince of Wales, when the final bomb hit. He could have run for the lifeboats. He would have had plenty of time. But he didn’t. He died to save his injured crewmates, men who would have never seen their families again.

For all the times he told her he would come back, for the life he promised they would make together, for all the nights she clung onto hope, she wanted to hate him for throwing it away.

She knows now that she can’t hate him. She could never hate him.

Vera falls back into Kitty’s arms. She catches her and places a gentle kiss to her soft cheek. “They would have loved you, you know,” Kitty says. “They would have loved that you’re brave, and funny, and that you drive everybody round the bend.”

Vera giggles and turns around, flinging her arms around her neck. “I love you, aunty Kitty,” she says.

Kitty hugs her tightly into her chest, with that strange sort of urge to just squeeze her and squeeze her and never let her go. “I love you too,” she whispers, so Vera won’t hear the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Vera manages to walk down to the gate before Stevie has to carry her, and by the time they get back to the house, she’s fast asleep.

Kitty takes her in her arms and carries her up to the little box room. Connie and Stevie have the other big bedroom, and Eddie and Art are roughing it on the sofas in the lounge.

She places Vera down in the bed, as gently as she can, and takes off her shoes and coat so she won’t have to sleep in them.

It’s almost like a ritual now, but every time she finds herself in her old bedroom, she unlocks the window and brushes her fingers over the scuff mark on the windowsill. 

Vera stirs slightly when she joins her, curling into Kitty when she places an arm around her. The bed is hardly big enough for the two of them, how she and Tom ever managed to fit seems somewhat miraculous. 

Tom Bennett should have been hers to keep. They should have spent all their savings on a little terraced house or a flat in Manchester, squabbling over the things husbands and wives argue about and making up between the bedsheets. In the winters they would have walked home from the pub through the snow, hand in hand, and huddled for warmth at night. In the summers they would have spent their evenings in the park with a punnet of strawberries, taking the train to the coast on the weekends, to Southport or Blackpool. Maybe they would have had kids of their own. She often pictures a little girl with big blue eyes and a bright smile. They might have named her Josie, after Tom’s mother, and Vera would adore her.

There is so little left of him now, the bomb that hit the Bennett’s house ensured that well enough. She would have liked to have kept his lighter, his wristwatch, maybe some of his shirts.

Instead, she finds other ways to remember him. She reads his letters every night tracing over his terrible handwriting, the imprint of the words in the paper and his fingerprint in a smudge of ink. And she has the photo she took of him on Eddie’s camera. She keeps it framed, proudly on display on the mantle in their flat in the city.

She feels him, in the smell of grass, the flick of a lighter, the smoke from a cigarette, whispered secrets between lovers and Vera Bennett’s laugh, the way she squints her eyes and shows her teeth, just like he did. 

Two decades of friendship and it wasn’t enough time. They should have known sooner, she should have knocked on his door more often and he should have spent less time getting into trouble. She should have told him to join the pacifists while it was still an option, she should have convinced him not to go away, she should have held him tighter and never, never have let him go.

In the end though, she doesn’t linger on the times they weren’t together. She remembers them being children together. She remembers the first night he climbed through her window. She remembers his warmth and his infuriating smirk. She remembers the first time they kissed and the nights they spent together, when she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. She remembers every time he told her he loved her, and she remembers every time she said it back.

She falls asleep to Vera’s fluttering breaths, the sound of the lads and Connie in the front room and the hymns playing on the radio.

The world is cruel and cold, but through it all she finds moments like these, when the tightness in her chest is replaced by something light and hopeful.

She clings to that feeling because tomorrow she’ll wake up surrounded by her family, and Vera’s little face will light up when she sees the gifts they’ve been saving for her. Dinner with Robina Chase will be worth it for the moments Harry will get with his little girl, and in the evening she’ll come home and laugh herself silly over glasses of whisky with her brothers. 

For all the grief she remembers how he loved her. She’ll keep clinging to that feeling because Tom Bennett was hers, if only just for a moment.

Disclaimer: I only skimmed through the episodes that Tom wasn’t in and don’t actually know what Lois’ deal was, so I’m taking some creative liberties here.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series taglist: @hanula18 @azxulaa @whoknows333

[hoe4sports]

“The world stops turning”

Caroline Graham Hansen x reader

AN: No trigger warning. This has been re written as of 31st of May.

You were fresh out of University, and for sure done with anything related to lectures, studying and assignments. You grew up in this silly little Norwegian town, Tromsø. You know, a place where you can see the northern lights, reindeers and polar bears! Well, the latter is not entirely true. It is just a dead polar bear stuffed for tourists to see and take pictures of. Regardless, you grew up here with your grandparents. Your father left when you were a baby, and your mother? You went no contact a few years ago as she put you through a lifetime of trauma. That is exactly why you decided that when you was finished with your bachelors degree in sports leadership, you needed to get out of this sad little town. It is always cold, and the town has winter for 9 months a year. Three of them are in complete darkness, no sun or no daylight. It’s just as bad as it sounds. That’s why you decided to apply for jobs pretty much anywhere but here. Places like Oslo, London, Greece, Australia (hello Sam Kerr) and even the us. You however ended up getting a job offer from the women’s department in the club known as Barcelona. It was just what you needed; Sun, beaches and Spanish women.

You decided to go to Barcelona a week early, you figured you had to take advantage of checking out the city and the nightlife! Barcelona had arranged this beautiful apartment for you downtown. It was a decent sized apartment in a new building with spectacular views from your bedroom window in the 23rd floor. You had never seen anything like this as you grew up very poor, and only lived in an apartment with your grandparents. You spent the first week checking out bars, restaurants and beaches. You also found a huge mall with all of your favourite stores! Naturally, you had to purchase new clothes as I was told that there would be an athletic dress code. Lululemon for the win!

You didn’t really meet a lot of hot Spanish women during your first week, but yoy made a few friends in the building. One of your closest neighbours, Ingrid Engen lived two doors away from you. She recognised me from a talent camp for 13 year olds in Norway. You had spent the first week getting to know each other, and when she found out you were going to be working for Barcelona; she was beyond excited. You two clicked naturally, and you went out to all her favourite bars, restaurants and shops. She really gave you the full experience! 

Fast forward to today, Monday morning. The first of August. At 5.30. Let’s just say that you regretted the last bottle of wine from last night. But today was the day! The day were you finally start your first “big girl job” and you bet you were feeling excited. You got your tired body out of bed and opened up the blinds in your apartment. The views were simply breathtaking. It was stunning! A beautiful sunrise with the most beautiful colors that you could possibly imagine. You made myself an iced coffee, and wrapped your fuzzy around yourself so you could sit outside on your private balcony. It felt relaxing. The air was crisp, the sound of the ocean was lingering in your ears and you could smell the salty beach. It was like a dream come true.

Your daydreaming soon became interrupted as you knocked myself intro reality. First day of your first job, right. You quickly made it to the bathroom and had a steaming shower. The smells of the floral soap felt like a full on aroma therapy session. You quickly got out of the shower and patted your body dry. Your blonde long hair dried and put in a half up half down bun and you did light makeup as your skin was tanned from the week in the sun. You always used some mascara, it really made your icy blue eyes pop. You got dressed up in what you had been requested to wear; Black athletic shorts, a black athletic top, your trusty black hokas and a hot pink lululemon jacket. It felt wrong, but your new boss had insured you that any athletic wear was good.  You grabbed my bag and you took a deep breath. One look in the mirror, some lip balm and you were out the door. This was going to be the first day of the rest of your life. 

*fast forward to being with your boss*

“Ah, and this office is where you will be working from! Feel free to decorate however you like.” The Spanish woman said. You nodded and listened as active as you could. “Here is your work phone, your laptop and your camera. If there is anything you need, you let me know.” she said as she handed over what looked like a tower of apple and canon products. You felt stunned. “Wow, this is amazing, thank you so much! I’m so excited to get to know the team, and I’m eager to get to work.” You replied as you sat down your new gear and followed the tall woman as she talked enthusiastically about Barcelona and their work culture. 

*Caroline POV*

Jonathan was going on, and on and on and on about what this season was gonna look like. I was tying up my white Nike cleats, they were brand new as the team wanted us to start fresh. I however, hated fresh and new and change. I liked stability, routine and same old. Why change something that isn’t broken?

The door to the hallway suddenly swung open. There was the head of staff, Maria. She was always so bright and shiny and talkative. Not really my way of life. “Ah, Maria, just in time!” Jonathan called out. “Come, come!” He urged and a blonde petite woman popped up from behind Maria. “This, ladies, this is Y/F/N. She is one of the new assistant coaches, and she will be primarily working with the wingers. With her, we will be unstoppable!” Jonathan said enthusiastically. The girl blushed, and smiled. “Hi squad, Im looking forward to kicking your asses on a daily basis”  she said with a cheeky grin. I was staring at her as I couldn’t remember why she seemed so familiar. “Caro, stop staring!” Mapi hissed at me. I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t staring” I hushed, but with no luck as the team was already making their way onto the pitch.

[mellybouboulove]

My guardian angel🤍𓆩♡𓆪☁️

Chapter 4

Plot summary: Drug Dealer Ellie Williams X OFC slowburn fic, out of universe and takes place in college, set in the 2000s. Smut content to come.

previous: Chapter 3 next: Chapitre 5

Tags: #wlw #sapphic #drugdealer!ellie #modern!ellie #tlou #slowburn #smut #fluff #tlouau #au #modernau #drugs

CHAPTER 4

Monday morning: Ellie told me she had a lot of work today so she left early in the morning. After my encounter with Emily, I had set my mind to make things better, at least that’s what I was planning for today. I woke up with a severe stomach ache and migraine; my body begging me to take drugs but I tried to stay focused on my goal; I got ready and went to the hospital. Starting with Jonathan who’s in a coma will be easier than facing Emily who could punch me. 

Stepping into this hospital again made me feel weird but I knew I had to do it. I found my way to Jon’s room, the atmosphere was heavy which is weird considering it as filled with flowers and gifts. The only sounds in the room were the beeps of the machines and his artificially controlled breathing, all of this because of me. I sat next to him and started to talk. I felt stupid at first as I didn’t even know if there was a chance he could hear me but it actually did make me feel better to let it all out. I told him how sorry I was and how much I hoped he would get better; how I would’ve rather been in his place instead. I left flowers and a note on his bedside table hoping he would wake up in the following weeks and would be able to see it, knowing we kept him in our minds. 

I already felt relieved from this talk but I still had to give Emily a visit. My body was still shaking, my head and stomach were still hurting. I hope these symptoms will be gone soon enough. 

Once in Emily’s front door, I felt reluctant remembering everything that she told me this weekend. Leaving now would make me a selfish coward; I have to talk to her. I knocked and after a couple seconds she opened. Her eyebrows furrowed as she saw me, she was about to close the door at my face but I stopped it. 

-Please give me a chance to talk. I know, you were right. You were right about everything, I’ve been acting selfishly; I just wanna talk, please.

She let out a sigh, quietly opening the door for me to come. 

-May I use the bathroom first? I’m not feeling very well.  -You already know where it is. 

After refreshing my face in her bathroom to calm myself, I opened the pharmacy without thinking and noticed she had the same treatment as me. I contemplated it for a second and decided to empty the bottle in my pocket. Just in case. At this point, this is not a big deal, I've already wasted her life. 

We sat in her living room, a blank silence surrounding us until I decided to break it to tell her everything that was killing me inside. 

-I have no excuses for my behavior but believe it or not, you and Jonathan have both been on my mind everyday since that day. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for what I did to you. If I didn’t come earlier it was just because I was in a really bad place and didn’t think I would have the courage to face you knowing I ruined your life and almost killed my two best friends. I’m not expecting you to forgive me but I think we should communicate; I don’t want to cause any more harm to you. I really miss you and our friendship and if I could, I would switch places with you.  -Are you done now?  -Ugh, yes I guess. -Okay great now leave.  -What?   -Do you really think that’s how it works? Acting like a victim, giving a clingy monologue after all your bullshit thinking this is enough to fix everything ? You’re dead to me and I don't have anything to do with you. You didn’t come here for my forgiveness nor for the sake of our friendship; in fact, you don’t give a fuck about this. All you want is to make yourself look good, to make your conscience lighter, just to manage to look at yourself. If you really did care, you would’ve come earlier, you would’ve visited Jonathan and checked on me but you just disappeared. You were in a bad place when it came to facing your responsibilities but you felt good enough to find yourself a girlfriend to take on dates. You’re a horrible person Maya, you’re not even able to understand what you’ve done. Get the fuck out of my house, you can die for all I care.  

I was flabbergasted by her reaction, I didn’t expect her to forgive and forget nor for everything to come back to normal but I thought she would be more understanding and willing to save our friendship. But she’s right, it’s too late. I became somebody I don’t know, I’m just a worthless piece of shit who only cares about itself. I felt my heart pounding louder and louder, my breathing speeding up; I don’t have anyone anymore. I need drugs. 

Without even counting them, I took a handful of pills from my pocket as I was making my way back home. When I finally reached home, it felt like this was not enough. I looked around all my drawers and finally found a bottle of vodka that I quickly emptied. As I was about to swallow the last drops of alcohol, I heard the bell ringing and used the energy I had left to open it. Ellie was standing there, she looked at the bottle in my hand then she looked back at me. 

-What the fuck are you doing??  -I guess I’m.. n-not feeling so good.

Suddenly my eyelids felt so heavy and closed themselves; then everything was pitched black. When I opened my eyes again, I was on the couch, Ellie sitting next to me with a bunch of medicine, food and water on the table. 

-Are you awake? -Yes, I think so.  -Are you feeling better?  -Yes. -Ok good. Now tell me, what happened Maya? Why did you do this?  -There was nothing left to do. I couldn’t control myself anymore, I’m sorry. I said bursting into tears. -It’s fine, but you have to think and be more careful. This is not a game, if I wasn’t here to take care of you and give you pills you could’ve been dead by now. She was very gentle in her tone. I could tell she was worried.  -Wouldn’t have been so terrible to be honest.  -I was planning to go back to my house but I guess I’ll stay a little longer. Drink a lot of water. She handed me a bottle of water as she said that and I thanked her and drank it without further questions, then fell back asleep.

[rachelkaser]

Masonry Monday: The Case of the Perjured Parrot

A wealthy investor is murdered while at his fishing getaway, with the only apparent witness being his parrot, who repeats the same name over and over. Taking this to be a repetition of his final words, the sheriff arrests Ellen, the dead man's secret mistress, but Perry Mason has his suspicions about the bird's credibility.

Who's Who

Perry Mason's client: Ellen Monteith, a librarian recently married to a man who, to her shock, already has a wife

The victim: Charles Sabin, a wealthy man who's harsh on everyone except his mistress and his talkative parrot

Suspects: Stephanie Sabin, the victim's legitimate wife, who's left to clean up following his death Helen Watkins, the victim's step-daughter, who may or may not have committed a serious crime Richard Waid, the long-suffering secretary, who shifts loyalties to the missus after the murder Fred Bascomb, the cabin's owner, who came across the body and the chattering parrot Casanova, the Sabin family parrot, who apparently witnesses his final moments and repeats his last words over and over

The Setup

Charles Sabin returns home from a trip and completely blows off his wife Stephanie in favor of fawning over his parrot, Casanova (who has been "a very busy bird," according to the man himself). He retrieves an envelope with his wife's name on its from a drawer in his desk. He calls in his secretary, Richard Waid, just to snarl at him for not taking proper care of Casanova. He leaves instructions for Waid to procure some mineral rights, then tells Stephanie and her daughter Helen Watkins that he's decided to drive to his fishing cabin a day early. The ladies aren't packed, and Helen snarls right back at Sabin.

Sabin accuses her of being a thief, and Stephanie refuses to go with him if he's going to attack Helen. Sometime later, a fancy man in a bolo tie drives up to Bascomb Lodge and Cottages in Logan City. He approaches a cabin where a convertible is parked and hears a parrot squawk through the window. Looking through the window, he sees Sabin's body on the ground, with Casanova's cage open and shavings all over the floor. The parrot is walking around the body, repeating, "Helen, give me that gun! Don't shoot!"

In the offices of Perry Mason, Della and Perry are visited by Stephanie Sabin and Helen Watkins. Stephanie tells Perry -- who'd been handling some of Sabin's business affairs -- that a Mr. Bascomb found her husband's body that morning at his fishing cabin. Helen blurts out that she'll be suspected due to Casanova's repeated words. Perry asks when the murder was committed, and Stephanie says they suspect the previous Tuesday. Sabin left for the cabin on Saturday, and Stephanie took Helen to her school, Hollymount, the next day. Stephanie herself stayed in a hotel that same night as she planned to divorce Sabin. Helen didn't stay in school but followed her to the hotel. There's no record of her at the hotel until Wednesday.

Enter Perry Mason, Attorney at Law

Perry and Della drive out to Logan City to meet with Sheriff Barnes, introducing himself as the late Sabin's lawyer on instruction from the widow. The Sheriff introduces Edward Langley, a criminology professor at Logan City's college, who's helping out with the investigation. Perry enters the cabin, where Casanova is chattering away in the cage, repeating the line about Helen. The gun was laying near the body with no fingerprints. The Sheriff and Langley estimate, based on the fish he'd caught and the fact they weren't cleaned, that he was killed Tuesday morning after eating lunch.

They also found a woman's slip and a pair of stockings, which Mrs. Sabin denies belonging to her or to Helen. Perry picks up a book on the side and notes it's from the Logan City Library. There's a knock, and Waid arrives to retrieve Casanova and Sabin's belongings. Langley asks where Waid was on Tuesday -- he was in Denver dealing with the mineral rights. Waid says Sabin called from a payphone as the line was dead, which Langley confirms by picking up the phone. Perry takes his leave and meets Della, who's feeding wildlife outside.

While looking at birds with her, Perry notes a wire on the phone lines -- someone's tapped Sabin's phone. They follow the wire into the foliage, where it leads to a empty, ramshackle cabin. Cut to the Logan City Library, where Ellen Monteith is reading about the murder in the papers. Perry and Della pull up, and Perry greets Ellen, asking her about the book he found in Sabin's cabin. Ellen's obviously distressed, and asks to speak with Perry alone. She confirms she took the book and asks to meet him in the park.

In the park, Ellen tells Perry her story of moving out West and suddenly finding love in the form of "George Walman," a.k.a. Charles Sabin. They met at the library, and Ellen describes him as the kindest person she knew. They married two weeks previously in a quiet ceremony in Las Vegas. Ellen left behind the slip, stockings, and gun, which she owned for protection while closing the library at night. Sabin left on Saturday morning, and she never saw or heard from him again. Della arrives and says Paul is checking on any calls made from Sabin's cabin. Ellen asks if she'll be suspected, and Perry says, "Yes."

The Murder

Prosecutor Sprague brings Ellen Monteith and Fred Bascomb, the gentleman with the bolo tie, into this office and asks Ellen if she's ever seen Bascomb before. She says she never has. After she's escorted out, Bascomb confirms that he saw her driving up to Sabin's cabin on the morning of the murder. Later, Paul enters Perry's office with info: Sabin's will splits the estate between Stephanie and the heretofore-unmentioned brother Arthur Sabin. Also, Helen didn't join her mother at the Windsor Hotel on Sunday. She had run away from school and was waitressing in Logan City when her mother found her on Tuesday. Perry suspected as much.

Perry speaks with Stephanie, who thinks Casanova must have been saying, "Ellen." He asks her about Arthur Sabin, and Stephanie says she's never met him. Later, Perry meets with one Rufus Bolding, who says that Sabin called him about forged checks he'd discovered. Sabin sent Bolding, a handwriting expert, the checks and a handwriting sample. Bolding says Sabin suspected Helen, but she's not the forger, which he informed Sabin of on Monday. Sabin said he'd pass along other samples, but Bolding never received them.

Case under review; please return at a later date

[felixcloud6288]

Higurashi: Massacre Chapter 6

Rika's getting a bit too cocky. The first rule about Lady Luck is you do not test her.

Hinase Momoyama could have done a very funny thing by using that same panel Yutori Houjyou kept using every time those guys' motorcycles were knocked over.

Rika has spent 100 years fighting against a force she was powerless against. She was eager to get into a fight she knew she had the power to win.

It's the kidnapper again! Yeah, that van really is connected to "Tokyo". And Rika knows who the Wild Dogs are. And they're under Takano's command.

So does this mean Takano instigated the kidnapping in Time Killing? And was Rika aware of their involvement at the time?

Irie and Takano are researching some disease called Hinamizawa Syndrome and are keeping it heavily under wraps. Rika is the only person in the village aware of what they're doing. Satoko meanwhile is told she's assisting with nutritional research.

Maybe the van scenes in Abducted by Demons and Atonement were because Keiichi and Rena were showing signs of Hinamizawa Syndrome and the Wild Dogs were planning to effectively kidnap them for treatment.

I went back to Curse Killing Chapter 11 to see if there's anything I could use to potentially name the kidnapper, and I found an early reference to the Wild Dogs that is lost due to a light mistranslation.

When Irie is talking with some staff about how to subdue Keiichi, someone says "Including Yamainu and us, three" in reference to how many male staff are available.

Yamainu is the proper name of the Wild Dogs. It translates literally to Mountain Dog, but Yen Press changed the name to Wild Dog instead. So at the time, I guess the translators thought Yamainu referred to a person rather than a group and the line should have been "Including the Wild Dogs and us, three."

But anyway, this is just me pointing out the first time this group was ever mentioned and we still don't have a name for the kidnapper.

I get the feeling Teppei returns to Hinamizawa at around the same date and time each instance he arrives which is why Rika felt a sudden sense of dread when the clock struck 6pm on the Sunday before the Festival.

Looking back on Curse Killing, the last moment where we can be certain Satoko was not in Teppei's custody was after the baseball game in chapter 4. Keiichi mentions it was a Saturday. At the end of the chapter, we're in the classroom and Rika arrives late and upset. So Teppei would have arrived somewhere between that Saturday evening and early Monday morning.

Satoko then missed three days of school meaning she came back on a Thursday and had her mental freakout which drove Keiichi to decide to kill Teppei on Friday. Then Keiichi spent the Saturday setting up his murder and enacted it on the Sunday of the Festival.

So yeah, it's very possible that Teppei came back to the village at the exact same time in both Curse Killing and Massacre.

Rika has had amazing luck when she was willing to take charge of her destiny and acted as if she was doomed otherwise. The moment she thought she was untouchable, all her luck ran out.

She has no options for dealing with Teppei and luck will not be on her side here.

I guess this means Hinamizawa is somewhere in the Chūbu region of Japan.

Locations I recall being mentioned at various times through the series include Nagoya which is the capital of the Chūbu region, Gogura which I cannot find at all, and this chapter mentions Ishikawa and the Noto Peninsula, which is the small jut of land seen on the above image.

Rika, what do you mean Irie and Takano erased your mother? What do you know about the deaths in 1981?

Rika really loves Satoko. This is a world where Rika has the greatest chance ever of beating her destiny. But if it means Satoko has to suffer, Rika considers it to be a dead-end hopeless world.

back

[citrusbae]

Did my nails today and still wanted to share with you ✨ Picked an early appt to actually get up out of bed but funny thing is, is that I knocked out last night and woke up to my phone being dead. Jumped up outta bed so fast not knowing what time it was and it was funny bc it reminded me that one time at your place 🌞 finally home now and gonna be a chores type of day

I fucked up on my work schedule a little bit and I work a 24 tomorrow, get off Monday morning to go back in the same day at 12. It’s gonna be fun

I hope your night ended well yesterday and still have thoughts about wanting to be there next to you and having a good time

I’ve also been thinking about tomorrow and how I was already thinking about how I wish you were going to be there.

I miss you

[misty720]

That's my husband - Ch7:

Monday morning and no alarm sounds to wake the dead was what Chara looked forward to every week. Papyrus still rose early to jog, shower, wake the kids, and make breakfast. Chara still took the horde to school except Papyrus woke her instead of the annoying buzzer from the clock. However, this morning he started with waking his woman with a kiss on the back of her neck and then her shoulder feeling challenged after Sunday's failed advance. Chara squirmed against him as she began coming to and rolled over to wrap her arms around him. He gave her a sweet kiss which she returned and rolled him over her. As if on cue, a knock echoed from the bedroom door and a scruffy little voice called, "Momma, Papa! We're ready for breakfast!"

"NO ONE'S HERE BY THOSE NAMES!" Papyrus answered receiving a light chastising smack on his arm from Chara.

"Go jog. I'll throw some pasteries in the oven and scramble some eggs. I can do that much," she fussed playfully. Her husband just laughed and kissed her before standing up to stretch. "Good morning, Kabel," Chara exited and pat her troublemaker on the top of his head. "How about I make you kids some cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs, and cut some fruit?"

"Did we do something bad?" he asked following her heels down the stairs.

"No, not at all. Why do you ask, my love?"

"Then why are you punishing us with breakfast?"

"KABEL SKELETON, APOLOGIZE TO YOUR MOTHER," Papyrus scolded him leaving the bedroom to go for a run. "I EAT HER COOKING TOO, AND YOU DON'T HEAR ME COMPLAIN."

Chara inhaled slowly and pinched the bridge of her nose. 'That... that's my husband alright...' she thought to herself knowing he didn't mean it how it came off.

"Sorry, Momma..." Kabel obeyed.

"It's alright, sweetie. Just be careful about things you say to others. Think first and ask yourself if it would make you feel bad hearing someone else saying it to you. A lot of times, the answer is correct, but not always. What's funny to one person might be hurtful to another. Everyone is different, my love." After breakfast, Papyrus rode with them so he and Chara could run some errands while out. "Pap, you know you could have stayed home and rested. I know you're tired," she made conversation.

"NONSENSE! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL NEVER TIRE WHEN THERE'S WORK TO BE DONE! BESIDES, I LIKE BEING THE PASSENGER FOR ONCE," he joked.

Chara just smiled, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. 'That is also my husband...' she mused.

"WHERE ARE WE GOING AGAIN??"

"Well, we need groceries for one. I just used the last of the eggs and milk. I thought we might pick you up a new pair of work shoes since yours are starting to break down, the car needs an oil change, and I need to make a payment on your business loan. I also thought we could grab lunch before picking up trouble and minion."

"CAN'T YOU JUST MAIL THE PAYMENT IN OR PAY IT ONLINE??"

"Nope! Processing fees are worse than the gas burned to bring in cash when it's right next to the shopping center where we'll be anyway."

"AND THAT IS WHY YOU HANDLE THE BUDGET. I WOULD JUST PAY THE FEES TO AVOID THE DRIVE TO TOWN."

"We don't have a safety net in the bank by paying excess fees and spending frivolously, Pap. Those extra fees versus gas spent is only a couple hundred a year but it adds up when applied to everything. A couple hundred here and there adds up quick."

"TRUE, BUT TIME IS A MORE PRECIOUS RESOURCE THAN MONEY AND I CAN ALWAYS MAKE MORE MONEY. WE AREN'T MAKING ANYMORE- WHAT??"

"Are you really about to say 'time'? To the person who was given a way to manipulate time by Gaster?" Papyrus grinned and shrugged.

The first order of business for Chara was the oil change where they were stranded at the shop for an unpredictable amount of time. As she handed the guy behind the counter the key for the transaction, Papyrus told him in jest, "DON'T FORGET TO TOP OFF THE BLINKER FLUID, ALRIGHT. NYEH HEH!"

"Funny, sir... I see what you did there..." the guy replied unamused tagging the key.

'Oh dear stars, that is my husband!' Chara screamed internally and palmed her face in a vain attempt to hide herself cringing at his joke. After receiving the key back, their next stop would be to drop off the payment and spend an hour or so in the store as he went through every pair of shoes available to find the absolute best fitting pair. She had given up rushing him a long time ago. After finally deciding on the perfecg pair, they headed to the grocery store which took half the time getting through with Papyrus because he knew exactly what he needed and where to find it. Chara was the one who liked to browse and take her time deciding which new snacks to try and trying to remember which foods the children randomly decided they suddenly liked or didn't like.

"I'M GOING TO GRAB ALL THE PRODUCE WE NEED WHILE YOU LOOK. SEND ME THAT PART OF THE LIST AND I'LL GRAB IT AND THE MEATS. THIS WAY WE CAN GO HOME AND HAVE LUNCH BEFORE PICKING UP THE KIDS," he offered. Chara agreed and sent him a text with part of her list.

Once everything was loaded in the cart, they stood in line to check out and pay. "Ooh! Someone likes eating healthy! It's not often I see a cart with so much whole food!" the cashier exclaimed in a bubbly voice.

"WE TRY AT LEAST. BUT IT'S HARD TO GET ONE OF MY FOUR TO EAT GREEN STUFF AND IT'S NOT THE ONE YOU THINK," Papyrus cut up with the lady in a hyperbolic manner and pointed to his wife.

"Papyrus!" Chara chastised. "I am not a child so don't lump me in with them."

"Oh! This is your husband?? I would have bet money on you being a child if you hadn't said something! You look so young and adorable!" the cashier kept up her appearance.

"Um, thanks? Yes, that's my husband and he thinks he's a comedian like his brother. Pap, pay the bill and let's go. We don't want to hold the nice lady up."

"DON'T BE SALTY, LOVE. YOU MIGHT JERKY THE MEAT BEFORE WE GET HOME," Papyrus chuckled at his own joke. Chara gave him an indignant side eye taking the receipt from the lady.

"Thank you, miss. Have a good evening," Chara turned to her politely to speak before taking the cart. "Papyrus. Must you?" she hissed exiting the store.

"I WAS ONLY TEASING, DEAR. YOU GET SO TOUCHY OVER BEING THOUGHT OF AS A CHILD SOMETIMES," the tall monster scratched his crown as he put the bags in the trunk.

"Pap, we've been over this so many times. I'm not a child. I'm your wife and people mistake me for your child so damn often if I'm not dressed to the nines. It's frustrating only being seen as an adult through your validation if I'm with you because no one takes me seriously..."

"JOIN THE CLUB, HONEY. NO ONE TOOK ME SERIOUSLY AS AN ADULT UNTIL I BECAME A FATHER. I GET IT. IT SUCKS BEING SEEN AS A PERPETUAL CHILD JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE DIFFERENT. BUT, I THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE MORE ADULT THAN TO BE SO UPSET OVER A SMALL TEASE THAT MIGHT HAVE MADE SOMEONE ELSE'S LIKELY AWFUL DAY A LITTLE BETTER."

"Grr! How dare you make sense to me and appeal to my empathy." Payrus kissed her cheek climbing into the passenger side and took her free hand. She knew he was right especially about others taking him seriously as an adult. People often mistook his jovial and whimsical nature as childish and innocent, but Papyrus knew all too well the harsh and ugly truths of reality. He simply chose to not let it affect him much. He was an optimistic soul with his own little dark side only Chara was privy to. 'Yep... that's my husband for sure...' she reminded herself as they left for home.

Later that evening after homework, dinner, and nightly baths, Papyrus finished his day catching up on his favorite shows. Two tiny munchkins sat in his lap watching with him while Serif studied in his room with headphones on. Chara leaned on him half asleep from boredom. His detective dramas were not her favorite but she didn't fuss since he didn't always have time to watch them. "Papa!" Sylfae grew restless and began squirming under her blanket.

"YES, PUMPKIN?" he indulged her.

"I wanna play before bedtime! Can we build a fort?!"

"Yeah, Papa! Can we?!" Kabel joined in.

"FIND SOMETHING STURDY, GRAB ALL OF YOUR PILLOWS, AND YOUR BLANKETS," he told them.

"You are actually going to have them drag their bedding down here to set up a mess for me to clean tomorrow?" Chara gave him an unamused scowl.

"I'LL CLEAN IT UP AFTER WE PUT THEM TO BED, I PROMISE. THEY WON'T BE TINY FOREVER, DEAR." She agreed reluctantly and watched as he daughter dragged her dollhouse downstairs to make a wall. Papyrus tossed a large blanket over the back of their couch and the dollhouse to make the cover and another on top to make the back wall. Kabel stuffed the inside full of their pillows and extra blankets. It was then that Papyrus dove inside and barricaded himself in. "I, KING PAPYRUS, HAVE DECLARED THIS MY CASTLE FORT! NYEH HEHEH!!"

"Attack!!" both young ones shouted jumping through the gap where his eye sockets peeked from behind a single pillow knocking him and the blankets down.

"It's too dark!" Sylfae cried.

"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE KNOCKED IT DOWN, YOU LITTLE GOBLINS!"

"Papa, I'm stuck!!" Kabel exclaimed.

"AS LONG AS YOU'RE BREATHING YOU'RE FINE, SON." He then pulled the blankets off of them and bundled them up. "WELL, NOW THAT IT'S DESTROYED, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?"

"Let's rebuild it! Then, you can read us a story under the roof," Sylfae giggled with excitement.

"YOU TWO KNOCKED IT DOWN SO YOU CAN REBUILD IT. THEN, YOU CAN DECIDE ON WHICH BOOK - WHICH ONE BOOK. IT'S ALMOST BEDTIME." The two rushed to their rooms to grab a book and argued which one was the lucky pick. "NOPE! NO QUARRELS! BRING THEM TO MOMMA AND SHE'LL DECIDE." Chara smiled at him as she draped herself over the back of the sofa.

"Kabel, this is your reading assignment for school. Nice try, but we'll go with minion's pick tonight even though it's a little above your level. This was Serif's book once right?" Chara chose. Papyrus nodded in confirmation and took the novel.

"Rats! Caught again," Kabel sighed.

"What is all the noise??" Serif asked exiting his room for a snack.

"Papa is going to read us a story in the fort we built," Sylfae answered peeking out.

"Which story?" She held up the cover to the small window to show him. "Sweet! I love that one!" Serif joined them in the spacious area making it cramped as Papyrus started reading.

"WHEN I LEFT MY OFFICE THAT BEAUTIFUL SPRING DAY..." As he read the first couple of chapters, the little two dozed off soundly atop their nest of pillows and blankets. Once little snores and steady breathing could be heard, their papa marked the page and carefully removed the top sheets that served as the roof and back wall. He gently cradled his daughter and motioned for Serif to pick up his brother so they could put them in bed. "GOODNIGHT, LITTLE PUMPKIN. I LOVE YOU," he whispered kissing her forehead and tucking her in. Chara was tucking in Kabel when Papyrus entered to tell him goodnight as well. "GOODNIGHT, YOU LITTLE TROUBLEMAKER. JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER AND UNCLE ASRIEL... I LOVE YOU," he spoke softly and brushed the wild wavy strand out of his face.

"We weren't that bad..." Chara pouted.

"WE DIDN'T CALL YOU BOTH THE TROUBLE TWINS FOR NOTHING," he muttered on exit to tell his oldest goodnight. "GOODNIGHT, STINKY! I LOVE YOU TOO!" he spoke to Serif not so quietly and put him in a headlock reminiscent of how Undyne used to do.

"Dad! Come on! I'm almost big enough to take you, ya know!" Serif protested.

"OH YEAH?! YOU DARE CHALLENGE ME! I'VE BEEN FIGHTING YOU SINCE YOU WERE A LITTLE POMEGRANATE IN YOUR MOM'S BELLY! I KNOW ALL OF YOUR MOVES!"

"Alright! Fight me!" Serif laughed as he took out his dad's footing sending both of them to the floor. "You might be bigger, but I'm squirrely!"

As the two wrestled trying to pin the other, Chara warned them, "You better not wake the others up! I'm not staying up with them if you do! Serif, you can stay up since you're so full of energy."

"Not now, Momma! I've got Dad in a full nelson and Imma 'bout to make him tap. Unless he wants to keep wearing me like a backpack!"

"UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU, I'M FLEXIBLE," Papyrus reminded him as he slipped out and picked Serif up wrapping him around his neck vertebrae in a backbreaker power mover.

"Gah! Dad! No fair! I can't get a grip on you because you're all bones."

"NYEH HEHEHEHEH!! Papyrus laughed all the way to Serif's room where he dumped him on his bed. "GOODNIGHT, STINKER. SLEEP WELL." He petted his son's head, but Serif stood up and wrapped his arms around him.

"Goodnight, Dad. I love you."

"I LOVE YOU TOO, SON. I LOVE YOU KIDS VERY MUCH."

Chara wore a smile that touched her eyes watching them interact. 'Now that... that's my husband,' she said to herself when Serif threw his arms around her and picked her up.

"Love you, Mom," he said hugging her.

"Oh! Serif! I love you too, sweetie, now put me down," she laughed. "I get it. You're taller than me, geeze." She kissed his temple and left for bed with Papyrus in tow.

"THREE KIDS... WHAT WERE WE THINKING?" he mused climbing into bed. "SERIF WAS A SURPRISE, KABEL WAS NOT EXPECTED STILL, AND WE PLANNED SYLFY. DON'T GET ME WRONG, I LOVE ALL THREE AND WOULD MURDER SOMEONE OVER THEM WITHOUT HESITATION BUT WHAT THE HELL WERE WE THINKING?"

"Do I really have to answer that for you?" Chara arched a brow at him opening her book to read a little before bed. "Why? Do you regret having them??"

"OF COURSE NOT, BUT BETWEEN THREE CRUMB GOBLINS, YOU, AND WORK, I'M EXHAUSTED."

"All the more motivation to hire more help."

"FAIR. READ TO ME? I STILL LIKE IT WHEN YOU READ YOUR STORIES." He curled up and laid his skull in her lap and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Of course, my love." She started where she left off the night before reading the first passage again. As his breathing steadied, she couldn't help but think to herself, 'That's my husband, the father of my children, and the love of my life. He's such a dork.' She grinned leaning down to kiss his cheek bone and worm her way into the blankets for sleep. Feeling her shift, Papyrus squeezed her tighter and buried his face into her neck without ever waking up.

End ❤️🧡🤍🧡❤️

@papara-week

[ghostwood7]

Another one of Hollywood's most infamous and still unsolved crimes is the murder or suicide of actress Thelma Todd. She was born on July 29, 1906 in Lawrence, Massachusetts. After graduating from college, she became a teacher who also took a job as a model. She caught the attention of some Hollywood Talent Scouts and moved out to California. It wasn't long before she was recognized as a genuine talent and not just for her good looks. Her friends called her "Hot Toddy". But on the morning of Monday, December 16, 1935, her maid found her facedown in the seat of her Packard Automobile, cold and dead. The engine of the car was still running. She was 29 years old. One of the chief suspects was the man who drove her home on the last night of Thelma's life. That man was director Ronald West. That fateful night, she had been at a party thrown by Ida Lupino, a relative newcomer to Hollywood, and it had the makings of a blow-out Hollywood event. The guest list was vast and unfortunately included Thelma’s ex-husband, Pat DiCicco. After a few drinks, Thelma and DiCicco exchanged some heated words, which made Thelma drink even more. By the early morning hours of Sunday, she had downed more than her share of alcohol. Luckily, she a driver to take her home. As she prepared to leave, Roland West, who was at the apartment over the cafe, received a phone call from theater owner Sid Graumann saying that Thelma was a “bit under the influence” and was on her way home. Graumann suggested that West see her safely into bed. But sometime between the telephone call and Monday morning, Thelma Todd died in the garage of West’s house on Pasetano Road. According to Forensics, when Thelma Todd was found, her hair was matted, a false tooth had been knocked out of her mouth and there were blood spatters on her skin and dress. Despite the evidence which pointed to Murder, her death was ruled a suicide. She lay in state in a casket filled with yellow roses and was then laid to rest at Bellvue Cemetery in her hometown. But even as her her body was being cremated, the scandal surrounding her mysterious death continued and the mystery still continues to this day. Who wanted her dead, and why? She had opened an eatery with Ronald West called Thelma Todd's Roadside Rest Cafe which was located on Pacific Coast Highway just under the Palisades. It was a place frequented by stars and fans alike. On the last day of her life, the cafe was also visited by notorious gangster, "Lucky" Luciano. He had been on the prowl for an establishment that could house a casino, and it looked like Thelma's place could be a perfect front. He made her an offer....and she refused. Was it that refusal which cost Thelma her life? No one will ever know. Meanwhile, the owners of what was once a Roadside Cafe have experienced strange occurances in their place of business: Cold spots, missing items, the feeling of being watched....and the sounds of footsteps coming up the long cliff side stairs, footsteps belonging to something....or someone unseen. Some believe it to be Thelma's ghost. Is she replaying the last tragic hours of her life as does a tragic heroine in a Hollywood Melodrama...or is she hoping that her earthbound spirit will one day point the way to a clue regarding what really happened on the night of her death? #Hollywood, #LosAngeles, #Crime, #Murder, #Suicide, #Accident, #Unsolved, #Mystery, #ThelmaTodd, #HotToddy, #Ghosts, #Paranormal #LuckyLuciano, #Haunted

[sanders1665]

Treading over cracked uneven pavements,

a fetid stench persists from the night before,

early in the frigid morning,

echos of a drunken fight linger,

seen in the dried blood on the ground,

hope is your silent wingman,

and misery is your third wheel,

indifference is a coat worn by many,

and your dreams are seen on a second hand black and white telly,

nobody gives a fuck on Surly Street.

In the litter strewn back alleys thieves plot and hide their guilt,

conniving and cunning voices plan their next job,

greedy eyes seek those that have a little bit more while they sleep,

slumbering folk unaware of their fate,

there's a twisted honor among these liars and thieves,

and broken fingers if you break the code,

families avoid the begging priest when he comes a knocking on a Friday night,

but you'll be wearing your best clothes for church on Sundays,

from a flea market bought cradle to a paupers grave,

all the sins are broken in the gloom of Surly Street.

Muffled noises from your drunken neighbors fighting again,

bang on the walls and increase the T.V volume to drown out the noise,

no such thing as existential pondering,

mostly muted maddening musing,

abjection seeps from the mildew on the walls,

a tormented existence for all breathing above ground,

as limping old soldiers stumble over cracked pavements,

a politician smiles and jobs disappear,

forcing families into rent arrears,

shattering windows and glass sparkles under a midnight moon glow,

watch where you're walking on Surly Street.

From the piss stained bus shelters and rat infested railway arches,

sleep the emaciated smelly vagrants and troubled teenage runaways,

the Mayor and the town priests,

are blind to the ruined and desperate,

unforgiving winter nights will take a lucky soul out of this living hell,

dead men's overcoats will find a new body to warm,

while forlorn heavy breaths and tired feet echo on starless nights,

as wobbly people and jeers exit from the corner pub, The Lost Ship,

heading for the chippy and belly full of greasy chips,

closing time entertainment at the end of Surly Street.

Screeching brakes and slamming doors,

black and white action movie stuff,

a broken nosed man with prison tattoos appears,

revenge and clenched fists seek some poor bastard,

there's grey pigeons shitting from the rain gutters,

and rain filled potholes in the road,

the bitter taste of stewed tea lingers in your mouth,

and your blood runs cold with hopeless thoughts of tomorrow,

huddling in the corners of empty derelict shops,

its a no way out cul-de-sac that keeps you on Surly Street.

Rumbling volcano's ready to explode,

when the housing inspector knocks,

poverty and deprivation, a familiar aroma,

surrounding you like a tightly wrapped mummy,

mice and rats have taken abode in the walls,

and scurry about with arrogant liberty,

copper pans catch the rainfall drips from the leaking bedroom ceiling,

on Sunday nights, the kids share a tin bath by the living room fire,

another life is what you see on the telly,

ne'er do wells and vagabonds reside on Surly Street.

The boys do their boy stuff and the girls do their girl stuff,

all wanting to get into each others pants and knickers,

there's a constant aroma of death from the local abattoir,

and the ghost of yesterdays day dreams still haunt,

life feels like a permanent rainy Monday morning,

keeping an eye on Friday night to drink your preferred frothy amnesia,

the paper offers you something in the Situations Vacant column,

a few lucky ones will permanently vacate their situation,

there's a permanent exit if you're willing to knock on the door,

behind the back door of ghastly, ghostly Surly Street.

[malamai]

I feel like the last 2 weeks I have neglected myself and this blog.

I have had such a crazy couple of weeks, like my work pattern has been all over being swapped around so I can cover, my sleep pattern has been all over, I have been trying to once again sort this house out so it isn't so cluttered and spend time with my kids. I have barely had time to think about anything. 😅

Currently we are in the middle of a heatwave so everyone is trying to keep cool, everyone has had their windows open to keep cool on a night which ended up being the reason I am so sleep deprived the other day.

I had an early night (LUCKILY because if I had not I'd of been 100% worse!) I am woken up at 3am to a scene similar to that in paranormal activity, Lee is standing next to the bed looking out the window and it's fucking 3am, there's a tonne of screaming going on coming from outside, I'm confused as shit. So I obviously ask what in the hell is going on, Lee explains that there's some guy screaming across the road down the phone to his girlfriend because she's been messaging and sexting another dude, he's said "dick pick" like so many times and he's having a complete mare, blah blah blah. And I look at him and Lee's looking back at me like he's expecting me to display some sort of sympathy for this dude at 3am and I looked him dead in the eye and said "could he not have let it stew for a few hours it's friggin 3am?!" And I picked up the bottle of cider I'd fell asleep drinking and start gulping it down because I am so thirsty and it's refreshing, Lee is just standing there like wtf Misty and I just tell him I don't care, I'm cranky and awake.

The argument continues until 5am and I have to be at work for 7.30am so I'm fuming as you can imagine, he even screams down the phone "I'M GONNA TIE HIM UP PUT HIM IN THE CAR AND I WONT SAY WHAT I'LL DO!!!" And I must admit that did give me a chuckle because this dude has no car, he doesn't even have a job to fund a car, he spends all day getting high on whatever and looks like a light breeze would knock him over! 😂😂😂 This guy needs to shave his head and go earn some dollar because the whole moment was top tier Andrew tate style lines. 👌

So I go to work and I am literally deceased, I can't think and I have to count large amounts of money all day so this is quite an issue especially when there's a lot to do in my job when its a Monday morning, I go full psycho and manage to find this guys Facebook and I'm like typing out this message and I'm going to give him a telling off in it, by devine intervention Lee calls me and asks how I am and what I'm up to and I'm honest and he laughs and tells me not to, but I'm fuming like I say, there's nothing worse than a sleep deprived working mother because we will kill you and then use the 24 hours in police custody as nap time. 😂😂😂

He said I should not message him because he's just been cheated on and a message from me would be the last thing he needs and I think I said something along the lines of "well he should learn to shut his windows when he decides to scream down the phone all night to his fiance. So after a bit of back and forth debate I am like "fine, I won't but if he is thinking I'm putting up with that for another night he will get a shock, there are kids and working people around him. It's not on." And then the phonecall ended. I was sooooooo tired and mad I was borderline psycho. 😂😂😂

[peachy-tea-anon]

“𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙?“ 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒

𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑏𝑢𝑟 𝑆𝑜𝑜𝑡 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐶𝑜𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑒 𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑝 𝐴𝑈

synopsis: you work at a small coffee shop near campus, and a tall british man starts to become a regular (pt 2 coming soon!!)

cw: mostly fluff, mentioned cheating on a past relationship, food mention, slight angst at the end?

Monday.

Opening shift.

Usually I hated opening, with having to get up early, to dealing with Karens that bitch about every small detail, to annoying teens ordering a drink with 20 extra add-ons.

But today was different.

I liked opening alone, because i could play my music as i prepare the shop to open up. I lazily wiped down the counters as the sunlight starts to peak through the windows, illuminating the shop with an orange tone.

It was dead quiet after you opened, aside from the soft music playing.

*𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔*

I look up after hearing the sound of the door chime, and i met eyes with a tall man with brown hair and glasses. his nose and cheeks were slightly pink from the cold, and he walked up to the counter slightly shivering.

"hi there! what can i get for you?"

the brown haired boy gazed over the menu for a moment.

"can i please have a..."

he has the cutest accent, it made me blush a little. his voice was deep and rich, and he spoke so eloquently. i started to study his features. dark brown eyes, sharp jawline, and a dimple on his left side that showed when the corners of his mouth curled upwards. i had to admit, he was attractive-

"sorry?" i said, realizing i was too busy staring at him and completely spaced on his order.

"just one black coffee and a chocolate croissant please."

"okay perfect! that'll be $7.49"

he grabs his wallet and slips out his card and swiped. he had long, slender, delicate fingers that gently pushed the buttons on the keypad.

"alrighty, ill have that right out for you."

as i made his coffee, i thought it was silly of me to have a crush on a guy i met once, especially because you two barely spoke. to be fair, i hadn't dated in a while, considering my last boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend. he was a total asshole, blaming me for not being good enough, and i carried that for a long time, not allowing myself to date because i thought i wasn't good enough for anybody.

i was quickly pulled from my thoughts as the coffee machine beeped, signaling it was ready. I pull a hot croissant out of the oven and bagged it up.

"here you go sir, have a nice day!" he slightly blushed and smiled, and said "thanks, you as well!" as he left, he couldn't seem to take his gaze off of me. im sure it means nothing.

"who was that?" my coworker niki said, coming in from the back having just put her apron on. "oh just some guy." i said. "some guy, huh? some guy that you were making goo-goo eyes at?" she laughed and i punched her lightly on the arm.

"he's just a customer, plus he's not even a regular, im sure he was just stopping by." i said, my smile faltering slightly.

"i think i've seen that guy on campus... what was his name? hmm. i don't know, but you should totally talk to him!" niki's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "like i said, he was probably just dropping by. he's not gonna come back." i said, not wanting to get my hopes up. "and if he does?" i sigh. "if in some crazy world, he comes back, ill talk to him. BUT, that's only if he comes back tomorrow." niki thinks for a moment, and i can see the gears in her head turning.

"okay, you've got yourself a deal, Y/N L/N. what shift do you work tomorrow?" "im on closing tomorrow night with you, i have classes in the morning."

Tuesday

oh god, im gonna be late to class. i had stayed up late last night doing homework, and that plus working a 5am shift knocked me out.

i rush my way to school, running through the train station like a mad man. i rushed past tall men in business suits, mothers with children, and moody teenagers loitering, but i caught the train just in time.

as i sigh and sit down, i pop in my earbuds and listen to music while reading. the train stopped at the stop right after the one that i got on, and as the doors open, i- wait... IS THAT HIM???

surely enough, it's coffee shop boy. i bury my face in my book, trying not to be seen. i don't think he noticed me.

the school day felt long. i was almost excited to go to work, hoping to see coffee shop boy, but i quickly snap out of it. he's definitely not coming back, he was at the morning shift yesterday so there's no reason he would be there on a night shift.

i get to work, 9pm. it's a shorter shift today, we close at 1 am. "hi niki!" i greet her with a hug and grab my apron. "hello y/n! hoping to see coffee boy?" "nikiiiiii he's probably not coming, it's like a 1 in a million chance." she rolls her eyes at me. "hmmm i don't knoww, he might still come in!" she says, and i just let it slide. "i saw him on the train this morning, im not sure he saw me though." niki squeals, giving me the look. she's a hopeless romantic, and she's always urging me to fall in love, and "live a little".

as the shift goes on, i start to lose hope. it's midnight, if he hasn't come already, he's not going to. i can't say im not at least a little bit disappointed, but that's what i get for getting my hopes up.

*ring ring*

"hi, welcome in-"

...

it's him.

he's here.

standing before me.

he's wearing a dark gray sweater with a collared shirt under it, glasses still perched on his nose.

"h-hi, what can i get started for you?" shit. im stuttering. why am i stuttering? i never stutter with customers, it's the same 3 sayings each time. what can i get for you? anything else? that'll be $___. so why am i stuttering?

"one black coffee and a chocolate croissant please!" he says cheerily.

"black coffee this late at night? you're gonna be up for hours!" i laugh, trying to regain my composure. stay focused, y/n. he's just a customer.

"well, this is a coffee shop, i'd say it's pretty normal to get coffee here" he giggles back, smiling with a dimple on the left side of his face. god id do anything to keep him smiling.

"i suppose so, alright, ill go get that for you." i headed back into the kitchen. as im brewing the coffee, niki comes up to me.

"y/nnnn you're blushing, is coffee boy here?"

i roll my eyes.

"niki, we really need to stop calling him coffee boy." i say. "why don't you ask him for his name?" niki asks. "that's an awful idea."

"why not? you two are basically in love!" niki says, following me over to the oven. "don't be ridiculous." niki crossed her arms in annoyance. "you promised me you'd talk to him!" she says. "yeah, but i don't even know how to start!" it's true, i barely know how to talk to boys.

"well it looks like he's sitting down, just make some light convo!" i groan as she pushes me out of the kitchen with the croissant and coffee in my hand. "go!! talk to your boy toy." she winks at me and i smile.

my heart is pounding out of my chest. what do i say? what do i do?

"here's your black coffee, anddd there's the croissant!" he smiles and thanks me, and he sits to let his coffee and croissant cool down.

"i don't think i've ever seen you here before yesterday." i say. its not a question, not a judgement, just an observation.

"oh, you remember me from yesterday?" he smiles and his eyes light up slightly.

oh god he thinks im a stalker. what do i do??

"i- yeah- um... yeah, i suppose so." i can feel heat rush to my cheeks. i suppose so? great job y/n, you couldn't even make up an excuse.

he smiles again, god that smile.

"yeah, my friend works here and she said i should stop by!" he says. i can't take my eyes off of him. "nice! what's your friends name?" i say out of curiosity, maybe i know them. we don't have many employees, so i should know them.

"niki nihachu, im pretty sure she's on bakers duty tonight."

oh. my god.

of COURSE it's niki. she KNOWS him??

"ah.. yeah she's great, pain in the ass sometimes, but i love her." i say with a smile, trying to hide the shock settling behind my eyes. he lets out a loud laugh.

"HA yeah, pain in the ass is pretty accurate. i think im gonna come here more often, i always told her no but she practically forced me, and turns out it's pretty great. by the way, i don't think i ever got your name-" he is quickly interrupted by niki shouting from the kitchen.

"Y/NNNN, go ahead and take your break!"

"niki i took my break al-"

"take your break!"

god she's such a bastard.

i smile at him, excusing myself to go take my apron off.

back in the kitchen, i speak to niki.

"you KNEW him??? and you didn't tell me?" i whisper-shout.

"okayyyy you got me but come onnnn, you totally have a crush on him, and i didn't even have to force him to come today! i just... maybe... said in passing that you were working tonight..."

i groan at her, brushing off that last part.

"you're on thin ice, nihachu." she giggles at me, handing me my usual, an iced chai latte with oatmilk, add 3 shots and a warm chocolate chip cookie.

"you should... go sit with him!" she reminds me about our promise, and i cave.

"sorry about that, like i said, pain in the ass sometimes." i giggle, sitting in the chair next to wilbur at the counter.

"so, y/n?" he says. i love the way he says my name.

"y-yeah! i don't think i ever got your name, stranger."

"ah, yes, my name is wilbur."

wilbur...

wilbur.

it suits him well.

"it suits you well." i blurt out, not realizing i even said it until it was out there.

"thank you, yours does too! so, what are you drinking, y/n?" he gives me a questioning look with a smile on his face.

"oh, uhh iced chai latte with oatmilk and three shots.."

"and IM the one drinking coffee too late?" he giggles and i laugh.

"listen, i have to work until 1am, you can't expect me to NOT drink this much!"

and he's laughing

and im laughing

and its perfect

and i think i like him

...

i think i like him.

we chat about work, school, niki, things like that.

"y/n, are you single?" he says outright.

"um.. yeah... my ex cheated on me so we.. broke up about 6 months ago."

his smile turns into a look of sympathy.

"im, so sorry, i didn't mean to-"

" oh nonono it's totally fine, he was an asshole. im glad im not with him. what about you, wilbur? anyone special in your life?"

"not at the moment, but there's this girl i think that's pretty cool..."

my smile falters for a moment.

god how could i be so stupid.

"oh... what's she like?" i say, trying to disguise my sadness.

"i met her only recently, but it feels like i've known her for ages."

"that's... great! so great! very.. um... very nice. i, ah. look at the time. i have to dip, it was great talking to you, wilbur."

his smile fades, but he says that he needs to head out as well.

i walk back into the kitchen, teary eyes, angry at myself for being so dumb.

"hey y/n, where is- y/n? are you okay?"

"he likes another girl."

she looks confused, and tried to speak, but i interrupt her.

"he asked if i was single and when i asked him he said there a girl he likes. why would you set me up with him, he doesn't even like me."

niki stays quiet and confused

and the tears are falling down my cheeks

and im so angry

and i think i like him.

before niki could say anything, i run out of the coffee shop, not even clocking out. fuck it, ill adjust it tomorrow.

i collapse on my bed and let the tears run down my face, until i fall asleep.

--------------------------------------------------------♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

a/n: this is part 1, part two is in progress and should be out in a day or two! hope y'all liked it, and remember: stay peachy🍑

[junisfics]

All This Time — Armin Arlert (1)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: After Armin receives a disturbingly vague message from his best friend, he shows up to her house only to find her drunk and needy

Content: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Content Warnings: Sexual Content, Mentions of Masturbation, Sexual Fantasies

You met Armin in your freshman year of high school. You had gone to separate middle schools, but those two schools fed into your then high school and you became classmates. You shared a band class together, Armin played clarinet and you played the piano. The entire band was split between two periods, you and Armin’s seventh period consisted of woodwinds while the other period held brass… percussion was split evenly between the two periods. 

That was the first game of chance.

The second one was after-school practice sessions with Mr. Steunberg. Apparently, Armin was struggling with sight-reading just as much as you were, so you were paired together for practice lessons on Mondays. And every Monday for the second semester of freshman year, you and Armin played your instruments in that little sound booth while your music teacher corrected you from outside.

Eventually, the twenty minutes between the end of school and the beginning of lessons was being shared between the two of you rather than each of you hiding off down some hallway. You had decided to come down the band hall early, conveniently at the same time Armin had as well. 

It started with one of you asking if the other had a certain teacher, followed by asking if they had completed the night’s assignment for that class. Over time, the floor distance between you two closed and you’d sit cross-legged on the carpeted floor just outside the booth, knee to knee, sharing snacks before Mr. Steunberg made his way from his History class and down to the band hall. You’d work on homework together and laugh over the squeaking mistakes from the neighboring booths.

Just around the time when you and Armin began to grow comfortable with each other, your organized lessons had stopped and your blooming friendship had been put on pause. Neither of you missed it too much, you barely knew each other, but you still smiled at each other in the halls and occasionally talked before your shared class if there was time, but there really wasn’t.

It was like that for a while; little waves, sentence-long conversations, awkward silences followed by equally as awkward good-byes. It was months before you ever talked the same way you had in that little hallway.

It wasn’t like you craved his presence. Christ, you would completely forget about him if you didn’t see him every day in class. But when he came up to you at the end of the day one day while you were sitting on the piano bench, waiting for the final bell to ring, you couldn’t help but smile.

You still remember the shirt he was wearing, how he pushed those thin-rimmed glasses he still wore up his nose as he talked with you, “Can you help me with sight-reading? I don’t wanna tell my mom I need lessons again and I’m embarrassed to ask anyone else.”

Of course, you had said yes to him, you wouldn’t be pulling your phone out in the middle of the night in the peak of summer to text him while you’re shit-faced to text him if you hadn’t.

Your practicing together turned into practicing and doing homework together, which turned into getting off track and watching YouTube videos together. Then came the hanging out outside of homework and lessons; goofing off at either of your neighborhood parks, walking down the road to get fast-food, running around in a grocery store because there was nothing else to do in the suburbs.

There wasn’t an exact moment where you agreed that you were best friends, it just happened. You were always there for him whenever he got pushed around by the baseball boys, when his parents got divorced and his grandfather moved in, when he got his acceptance letter to the college of his choice; and he was there for you for your first boyfriend and your first heartbreak, he was there when your dog was lost for five days… he being the one that found her, and when you got your acceptance letter, he was the one sitting next to you with open arms.

There were moments when you found yourselves distancing; when you got into little arguments. But at the end of the day, the love that each of you had for each other was stronger than anything. You always came back to him, and he to you. 

No matter how many times you broke his heart by flirting with him just to hook up with some random guy at a party the same day, told him that he was your ‘best friend’, talking about how he was ‘like a brother’ to you, he couldn't leave you and he couldn’t stop loving you.

Armin would do anything for you and you would do anything for Armin. This is why when he got your messages in the dead of the night, he was over to your apartment before he could even text back.

‘armin’ ‘come over’ ‘help’ ‘need help’

Every second between the moment he got your messages until he reached your door, he was mortified. His heart was pounding out of his chest, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering while swerving around corners recklessly, eyes flitting over your parking lot to try and find anything out of the ordinary.

He almost tripped on the curb of the sidewalk while running up to your building. He was whipping open doors and frantically pressing elevator buttons as his keys still jangled in his hands, he didn’t even think to shove them into his pockets. His eyes bore into the red, electric lettering at the frame of the elevator, watching the numbers increase with his hand pressing against the metal doors like it’ll somehow make it go faster.

Once he reaches your door, he knocks frantically, jolts of pain shooting through his knuckles as he does so.

And you’re right at the door waiting for him. You tug it open the second you hear him outside of it, a giant smile of relief on your face.

“Oh my god! Thank god you’re here! I was going to pass out from waiting so long,” You giggle, grabbing ahold of his forearm that was still outstretched from knocking and pulling him inside.

It took him a moment to realize that you’re alright, that you’re standing right there in front of him, unharmed and unscathed, with his sweatshirt pulled over you, the one he gave you before leaving for university. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you grab at his arms to bring him forward, stumbling back over your own feet in the process which just sends you into another fit of giggles.

You had a slight sheen of sweat over your face and neck, not a lot, just enough so when your head turned to look behind you the kitchen lights bounced against the gloss on your skin. You didn’t have pants on as well, just these light grey boy-short panties that completely exposed the length of your legs.

It wasn’t like Armin hasn’t seen you in a swimsuit before. Many times your parents had taken you on trips to a lake where you would go tubing and swimming for hours on end until you were both drained of all your energy. But seeing you in, presumably, nothing but his sweatshirt and panties that bared your thighs and bottom curves of your ass had him far more flabbergasted than a swimsuit ever could.

“You’re — you’re okay?” He asks, voice still wavering with concern as you continue to drag him towards the kitchen.

“Absolutely not!” You sound serious, “I need help… with making my dessert.” Your faux serious tone falls apart and you’re choking back another wave of laughter.

Armin watches you incredulously but intently as you slide your hands down his forearms until both of your hands meet his own, giving them a squeeze before spinning around and gripping the kitchen island’s counter.

You have an array of stainless steel bowls crowded beside each other while a mixture of dry baking goods sits unstirred in one of the bowls. You shuffle through the measuring cups and spoons before picking up a large wooden spoon and holding it up to Armin, presenting it to him, like you’ve found a block of gold.

When you turn away from him, he looks over the state of the kitchen. Sugar and flour remnants cover the countertops, series of baking instruments litter them as well, and on the kitchen table is a bottle of vodka.

And then it hits him; you’re playful nature, unpredictability, clumsiness, and intimacy.

“Are you drunk?” He asks you. He isn’t disappointed, or angry, just slightly taken aback.

You bring your head up from the bowl and tilt your head side to side like you were thinking over his question, “A little.”

It was much more than ‘a little’. Before you had even started drinking you were in a playful mood. You had just gotten the offer for a summer job for lifeguarding at the apartment complex’s pool and you thought to celebrate by binging your favorite television show and having a few shots. Then, a few shots turned to many and you were dancing around your living room while having the time of your life before you had settled on making yourself some food. ‘Another celebration’ you had convinced yourself.

But the measuring and the mixing were too hard and who else was there to call other than your best friend?

“Oh my god.” Armin smiles, shaking his head at you and making his way towards you as you continue to mix at god-knows-what you’ve put into that bowl, “You need actual food, not whatever you’re making here.”

You let go of the spoon, letting out a little huff of frustration at his words, scrunching your nose real cutely as you turn towards him. You take the front of his tee-shirt in your hands, gently fiddling with the fabric as you pout.

“I want dessert, Armin.” You whine, bringing your head forward to rest your cheek on his chest. Your chest was pressing against his torso, bare legs knocking against his own.

“’Tomorrow-You’ is going to thank me for not letting you have dessert.” He awkwardly brings one of his hands to your back, patting it a few times before letting his hand rest between your shoulder blades.

“Please?” You whisper, tilting your head up until he can feel your tiny breaths against his chin. Armin hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat begins to pick up in his chest at your close proximity.

“No… No, I’ll — I’ll make you toast or something, how does that sound?” He suggests, snaking his hands between the two of you to gently nudge you off him.

But the space between the two of you is quickly closed when your slide your hands up his chest and around his neck, “Don’t want toast.” You murmur, standing up on the tips of your toes to get in his eye-line. Your nose was only a breath away from his.

Armin carefully takes your wrists in his hands, taking your arms off him as he stammers out, “Well, you’re going to have toast.”

You let out another noise of frustration as you pull yourself away from him, your hands balling into fists at your sides while he pulls open your fridge for the loaf of bread on the top shelf. You watch him with your head tilted in fascination like you’ve never seen bread before, admiring the way his hair falls into his eyes as his pretty hands unwrap the plastic sleeve of the loaf then tug the toaster away from the counter backsplash.

He truly was so beautiful. You always contained your attraction towards him so well, but now your restraint was slipping.

You prance over to him, slipping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his back as he slides two slices of bread from the loaf. His skin is so warm beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders and back flex as he moves his arms, his abdominal muscles twitching as well in reaction to your fingertips skimming over them.

God, he’s so fucking nervous. 

Why is he so nervous? 

Because you’re all over him in just panties and his shirt when he’s had a crush on you for as long as he can remember. You’re being so touchy, so intimate with him, he’s afraid he might explode.

“Go sit down. Can’t — can’t help you if you’re in my way.” He says. Oh but he could help you, he could help you even if you were hanging on him like a spider monkey, he’s just afraid you’ll realize your effect on him if you do so.

“I just wanna be close to you. You’re so cute.” You nuzzle your head under his left arm until you and slip your whole body under it and stand ever so slightly in front of him, wedged between his torso and the countertop.

Your hands play with the hem of his shirt as you look up to him, your eyes glossy, and your pupils were blown. Armin tries his best to keep himself subtly distanced from you, but it’s no use. Every time he inches away, you’re just back on him. 

You’re sliding your hands up his chest, fingers tracing over his jaw and cheekbones as you cling to his side. He can feel your hips knocking against his, your thighs rubbing against his as you shift around to try and get closer. Your fingers follow along the curves of his neck, tracing down his throat then skimming over his collarbones.

“Sit here then. Sit on the counter.” Armin grabs ahold of your torso and pushes you against the counter, the edge of it rutting into the small of your back. You grab ahold of his biceps and let out a flirty little giggle at what his actions could be insinuating.

Your fingers press into the plush muscle of his arms as he strains to lift you, your heels grappling at the cabinets below you to try and aid him. His waist ends up slipped between your knees when you’re finally seated, and you can feel your body flush hot with arousal.

You were already sweating from the exertion you had put forward before he had arrived, but the added closeness with Armin was just driving you crazy.

“Now sit, and stay.” Armin places his hands in front of you to enforce his directions.

You giggle a few times, smiling at the fact that he’s treating you like a dog, “Woof.” 

Armin slips his waist out from your knees to come to your left slide, plucking the now toasted bread from the toaster and setting it on a napkin. He pulls open the drawer to his right for a butter knife, then snatches the butter from the island and brings it to your toast. 

His hands shake as he pulls the glass top of the butter dish, they shake as he dips the knife into the butter, and continues to shake as he spreads the butter over the first piece of toast. He can feel your thigh brushing against his hip as you swing your legs.

You begin to breathe heavier, the heat of exhaustion and heat of arousal begin to grow overwhelming. You fan your face a few times, pushing your hair off your neck, before grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it up and over your head.

“What — what are you doing?” Armin stammers, taking a tiny step away from you.

You absentmindedly fold the sweatshirt before setting it aside to fan your face again, “It’s so hot… I think it’s you, Armin.”

You can see his face flush red this time, his ears as well, turning his cheeks and nose a pretty pink shade that doesn’t help your problem.

Armin tries to ignore you, he really does, but it’s so difficult because now you’re in this skimpy little tank top with spaghetti straps. And the straps are slipping off your shoulders and Jesus fucking christ you’re not wearing a bra. He can’t stop his eyes from flitting over your scantily clad figure, drinking in the way your thighs squish against the counter, the curve of your ass as it’s pressed to the granite, the way your nipples tease the thin fabric of your skin.

“Have I ever told you that? That you’re so fine?” You giggle, running a finger down his bicep as he finishes buttering your toast. You’re so grateful that he’s got that stupid white tee shirt on, the one that keeps your gaze lingering over the lean muscle in his chest and back.

“Um, n — no. Toast is done, hop down.” He refuses to make eye contact because if he does, he’s scared he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you.

“Help.” You pout, reaching out your hands and grabbing for his shoulders.

Armin listens to your plea, setting the toast back down and grabbing ahold of your waist to slide you off the counter. But instead of bringing your feet to the floor, you wrap your legs around his waist and hook your arms around his neck. You have to tilt your head down to look into his eyes, only to see his pupils blown and lashes fluttering as he blinks.  He doesn’t push you off him. Instead, he uses his left hand to snatch the food off the counter while his right hand comes to brace your lower back. 

He’s afraid he’s going to have a heart attack now; feeling your thighs wrapped around him, your cunt hovering just right over his growing cock, your back arching your chest so close to his face that he swears if he looked down he would get a perfect view of your tits, your parted lips all glossy, breath fanning over the bridge of his nose as you run your fingers over the curves of his pretty pink lips.

Fuck. He was definitely getting off to this later.

You’re giggling all the while, and to an extent, you know exactly the effect you have on him. It’s cute, the way he stumbles around your house and trying to keep his footing as he brings you to your bedroom. 

“C’mon, Armin. At least take me on a date first,” You tease as he kneels down to bring your backside to the foot of the bed. Once your legs release his waist, he stands again.

“I’m — I’m not trying — we’re not —” He stutters, bringing his hands forward again like he’s scared you’ll pounce on him.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. Armin wants nothing more in the entire world than to have you beneath him, to have his cock sheathed inside you, to have you moan out his name as you cum around his cock…

But he couldn’t let it happen like this.

You were drunk, so so drunk. And you probably didn’t even know what you were saying.

“We can if you want to.” You speak softly, your knees knocking together as you settle into your seat, fiddling with your hands in your lap as if you got all shy all of a sudden.

And when you look up to him through your lashes, brows furrowed slightly in a pout, Armin almost caves. But he catches himself just as fast, shoving your toast in front of you like it’s a shield.

Your eyes shift down to the food that’s presented before you, and your pout turns into a cute little smile as you daintily take it from his hands. You let the napkin rest in your left palm as you hold the food in your right, immediately taking a little bite out of it.

“You want some water?” Armin asks, still standing in front of you.

You give him a nod without looking up, taking another bite out of the toast while he fills up the cup that he knew rested beside your bathroom sink. As he stands in front of the mirror he takes a moment to breathe in and out deeply as the water fills the cup.

You were going to be the death of him.

“You know, I mean it when I say you’re attractive,” He hears you say, still sitting all obediently on your bed and waiting for him to return, “Everyone’s like, ‘oh Armin got so hot!’, but I always thought you were cute… you just got so — nnghh — in the past year.”

He returns with your glass of water, holding it out to you as you finish chewing. You take it from him gently, holding it in both your hands, careful not to drop it, as you take little sips.

He knew you were being irrational, but he truly hopes you mean what you say.

When you finish drinking, you pat your hand against the mattress as you set your cup to the floor. You want him close again, want the warmth he radiates both physically and spiritually. Armin listens to your ask and sits beside you carefully, running his hands over his thighs as you pull your legs up on the mattress and cross them under you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You ask, voice getting tiny again.

That was real… that question… he’s so sure of it. You were always insecure about your looks when you had no reason to be, but he had no idea that you cared what he thought about you.

“I — um… I — I don’t think my — my opinion matt —” He tries to get it to come out sounding right, but the moment he opens his mouth he already knows he’s failed terribly.

“Do… do you not think I’m pretty?” He can hear the feeling of betrayal in your voice, you turn your head away from him.

“No! No, y/n, I think you’re really pretty —”

You grab ahold of his shirt collar and tug him towards you as you let your back fall to the mattress. His torso comes over you and his hand shoots out beside your head to keep him from falling atop you. He can’t even bring himself to pull off of you, because your noses are touching and he can feel your knees knocking against the left side of his waist.

“I — you’re — God, y/n you’re so pretty. Don’t ever think I don’t think that.” He breathes, trying so hard to your lips from touching, for his own sake.

Your mouth splits into a smile and a little laugh escapes your lips. Your free hand grabs ahold of his shirt as well, assuring both you and him that he isn’t going anywhere. You look down to his lips, slightly parted as he pants heavily to keep his composure.

“No, but you don’t understand,” You keep your eyes on his lips, fighting the desire to kiss him, “You’re so fucking hot.”

Armin’s breath gets caught in his throat because you had spoken that in a borderline whimper. Your bottom lip had been taken between your teeth after you finished speaking, and he swears he could see your back arch slightly.

It was completely visible now, how much you needed him. You were holding onto him for dear life, your thighs were squeezing together and your arched back had your stomach brushing against his. You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, irises filled with lust and hunger.

Armin’s so grateful that your legs are to his side and now wrapped around his waist again because he would not have been able to stop himself from grinding down against you… it would have been completely involuntary.

“And — and don’t tell anyone this but sometimes… sometimes I get off to you,” You bring your voice to a whisper as you reveal your secret, lifting your head to move closer to him. He can feel your lips brush against his as you speak, “Actually... like all the time.”

Armin lets out an audible exhale, his jaw slacking at your revelation, he has to shut his eyes again.

“Do you get off to me too?” You ask. And you speak like you didn’t just reveal that to him, bringing your head back down to the mattress and smiling.

Of course he does. Of course he does. 

Junior year of high school you offered to be his first kiss, just for fun, ‘cause you were friends, right? And you wanted to help him get it over with. 

But every night since then, Armin has gotten off to you; laid back in his bed with his cock in his fist, and whispering your name as he cums.

“I — we’re best friends — y/n, I —”

“Best friends don’t wanna fuck each other, Armin.” You say, your voice losing all its playfulness and growing serious like you had suddenly become sober.

You stare into his pretty blue eyes for a moment, letting your own flit between the two of his. You were watching for any change in his expression, any look of disgust or repulsion, but you don’t find any. He just keeps that same incredulous, lust-filled look on his face.

He looks over you as well. Your eyes were still so droopy and hazy, your lips parted like you’re manually breathing. You were so drunk that it almost hurt him. You weren’t going to remember a single thing in the morning, and the two of you would be back to square one because Armin would never be able to repeat to you what you said to him or admit his searing desire for you.

Armin can feel your grip on his shirt tighten once more, and instead of lifting your head to him, you pull him down to you.

“I need you,” You whisper, voice shaking with arousal, “Fuck me... please.”

Armin swallows hard, his arms beginning to shake under his weight. He was going to fucking explode. He needed a break, just a moment, anything so he can catch his breath and regain some of his composure.

Christ, he was so fucking hard. If you were sober, he wouldn’t hesitate for a single second to rip off both of your clothes and push his cock inside you.

“I can’t — you’re drunk,” He murmurs, and you can hear the hurt in his voice. You can hear the fact that he truly wanted to do what you begged him for.

“No, Armin, I want it. I need it. I mean it, I swear.” You plead, your hands pawing at his shirt like he was attempting to get away from you and you wanted him to stay. But Armin was set put, he wasn’t moving, he couldn’t move even if he wanted.

“I need your cock.”

“Not — not now. You need to sleep this off. You’re… you’re not yourself right now,” He takes his eyes off yours, closing them once more and squeezing them shut.

“I’ve — I’ve always wanted you though. Always, I promise.” You continue, hoping that somehow you’ll convince him.

It was true. You wish he could understand how true it was. All the guys you had gotten with after-parties, after football games… they were all just replacements, they were fill-ins for him. You would pretend that it was him that was filling you up, gripping your hips and whispering dirty things against your ear. And for seconds at a time, it would work and you would convince yourself that Armin was right there with you.

And every time you would see him helping another girl with school work, see them flirting with him and getting touchy with him, playing with his glasses or drawing shapes on his hands with a pen… this disgusting feeling would churn around in your stomach and bubble up into your throat. And although Armin was oblivious to their flirting, it still hurt so fucking bad.

“I’ve always wanted you too… just — just not like this. Just sleep it off, okay? And — and then we’ll talk.” His left hand wraps around your waist while his right switches to brace beside your head. He grabs ahold of your torso and shimmies you up the bed until your head meets the pillow.

He sits back on his calves, his left arm sliding out from under you while his right hand brushes your messy hair out of your face before petting your head.

“And, and you’ll fuck me in the morning?” You ask, completely genuine.

Armin swallows hard again, pulling himself away from you and helping you slide your body under your sheets, “If — if you still want me to.”

You look up to him with your eyes full of admiration as he smoothes the sheets over your body, “I’ll always want you to.”

It comes out sounding much more intimate than it actually is to say that ‘you’ll always want Armin to fuck you’. And Armin lets his eyes meet yours again, matching the love that’s filled them.

He smiles to hide the doubt he has inside his chest. In the morning, you’ll either regret every word and ghost him or you’ll forget everything you’ve admitted. Both options made Armin’s heart hurt, but he decides that you leaving him would be the worst of the two. He wouldn’t know what to do if you’d never talk to him again. So for now, he truly hopes you forget.

Armin pulls his hands away from you, shuffling his knees on the bed to get off of it. But before he can bring his feet to the ground, you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Stay, please.” You ask, your eyes struggling to stay open. He wonders if you even know that you’re talking.

He listens to you anyway, bringing his hand down to the mattress as he slips himself under the sheets and next to you. And if he wasn’t sure about staying before, he sure was now because you were so warm and so soft as you shimmied back against him. You take his arm and sling it over your waist, letting his palm splay out over your stomach. You can feel every rise of his chest against your back.

You were going to doze off so easily, he was so warm, he was so comforting. You could feel sleep beginning to creep up on you quickly. But before you let it take over, you slide your hand back and between your bodies to grab the source of the hard thing poking into your ass.

“You’re so hard,” You giggle.

Armin chokes on his breath again and grabs your wrist to pull your hand off his dick, “Stop. Go — go to bed.”

You listen this time, retracting your hand to slip it over his that rests on your stomach, interlacing your fingers as you succumb to your exhaustion.

[mauvefayette6]

hello! i saw requests are open. this is pretty long. can i request a knox overstreet x fem!reader where they are bestfriends along with the dead poets (let's just say welton accepts both gender as their students). reader is an artist and loves to paint. she's been painting knox for a while now and admiring him from afar. then, when he went on a date with chris, knox saw the reader destroying canvasses and sketchbook. chris rejected knox cuz she saw how knox's eyes sparkle whenever he talks about her. angst and fluff pretty please. can you make it a bit of a longer fic? no pressure if you don't want to. but it kinda feels good when you read a one-shot that's not rushed and has a plot. THANKK YOUU SOOOO SOOOO MUCH. still, it's your choice if you want to do this or not. ADVANCED THANKKK YOUUU I LOVE YOU.

DENY || Knox Overstreet x fem!Reader

/// POVS CHANGE///

•

1st POV

I locked myself in my dorm, it was Saturday morning and my roommate was out in the Library studying like she always does.

Welton recently began to accept girls and I was one of the lucky ones to be chosen. I wasn't sure why, academically I wasn't the best.

I was working on a small sketch in my sketch book. Sometimes I just allow my hand to take control. When I open my book I'm never sure what I will be painting or sketching.

But this morning it was different, everything felt different. This morning I knew what I wanted to paint.

I set my sketchbook down as I grabbed one of my bigger canvas and began to do a rough sketch.

I heard a knock on the door 20-minutes after I started my sketch.

"Who?" I shouted.

"Knox!" The voice said. My heart dropped as I quickly put the canvas away, I hid my sketchbook under my bed and cleaned myself up.

"Hey Knox," I smiled when I opened the door. He looked around the room before looking at me.

"What were you doing?" He asked.

"Oh, you know... What's up?" I smiled nervously.

"Well, Neil was invited to a party, we were wondering if maybe you'd like to come with us, we'll be sneaking out tonight. What do you say?" He smiled his usual charming smile. I can never bring myself to say no to him.

"Okay, I'll go. I just have to find a way to sneak out." I laughed and he nodded.

"I'll come get you so be ready," he winked before leaving. I sighed relieved, I took my canvas back out and resumed my sketching. I wanted to capture the beauty of Knox Overstreet.

That was my sketch, Knox Overstreet. He was my muse, my inspiration. I would hate to admit this to the rest of the world but he inspires all of my art.

I smiled as I grabbed my paints, my dad was visiting France and sent me some paint for my art. With special exception from Mr. Nolan, I was able to keep my paints and canvases.

The sun was setting, I wasn't even halfway done with the painting, it was a bigger canvas. I decided to call it a night, I put my canvas away and began to clean up. My roommate joined me a while ago, I hadn't noticed she was here.

"I'm going to shower before bed, want to come?" I asked her. She was laying on her bed with a big book in her hand.

"No, I'm going to sleep early, I have big exam on Monday," she yawned. She took her glasses off before she turned around.

I shrugged and walked to the girls shower, there was about five girls when I arrived.

"Hey (Y/n)!" One of the girls shouted waving at me.

"Hey!" I smiled back, I set my things down before hopping in the shower.

"How's it going with Knox?" She winked at me causing my face to heat up.

"Nothing's going on, we are just friends..." I sighed, I continued my shower as she rambled about a boy she met.

Her name is Cassie, she's extremely smart but can say some of the darnest things. She's very popular in every good way, she's talkative and likes to take on more then she can handle. Sometimes it becomes annoying and other times it's admirable.

I said goodnight to her before heading up to my dorm.

The girls dorm is far from the boys dorm and girls had a stricter curfew then boys, which meant a harsher punishment.

I don't think it's very fair my parents on the other hand think it's amazing that the curfew is strict on girls.

I laid awake on my bed, I was anxious but at the same excited. It was going to be my first high school party. Ever since joining Welton parties and social gatherings were cut to zero.

I heard a soft knock, I tiptoed to the door and opened it. Knox's flashlight hit me straight in the eyes.

"Are you trying to blind me?" I whispered and he chuckled softly.

"Hurry, I was almost caught sneaking here," He rushed me and I followed.

We sped walked out of Welton and towards the gate where the rest were hiding in bushes.

"I swear if I get some sort of rash from these plants I'm taking everyone to court," I heard Charlie angrily yet softly complain.

"I got her, let's hurry before someone catches us," Knox ran first, then Charlie. Neil and Todd ran together and I ran after. Meeks and Pitts were the last to run out of Welton, they were usually the brains of everything we do.

"Did you guys not invite Cameron?" I asked once we were at a good distance away.

"Why? So he can snitch and get us all in trouble?" Charlie said rolling his eyes.

"Charlie convinced us not to invite him," Neil whispered to me with a laugh.

"How far is the party?" Todd asked after a while of silence.

"Just a bit further," Knox told him flashing his light. "It's about twenty or so minutes away from the school.

"Fantastic, we are going to be off our knockers walking back to Welton," Charlie complained.

"Then you shouldn't have come Charles, if all you were going to do is complain," Meeks rolled his eyes. He was carrying a flashlight, one of the three who actually brought one.

It was about 9 o clock when we arrived at their party.

"We met here at 12am," Knox told us before entering.

Neil and Todd went towards two very pretty looking girls. Steven and Pitts went towards the red solo cup table. Charlie disappeared somewhere and Knox, well Knox went towards a girl.

She was very pretty, blonde hair up to her chin, baby blue eyes and a beautiful complexion. She would be anyones dream girl.

I stood there, no cared to introduce me to anyone. That's when a slightly tipsy teen boy walked over to me. I hated the scent of alcohol, I looked at him in disgust before walking away.

I entered the kitchen for a glass of water, "designated driver?" A persons voice asked.

"Huh?" I asked turning to face the stranger. He had slick back brown hair and big brown eyes.

"You're drinking water at a party, the only reason I could come up with is if you're driving your friends home," he chuckled.

"Oh! No just not a fan of drinking," I laughed and he nodded.

"Why so alone?" He asked.

"My friends ditched me," I shrugged.

"Not fun, you go to Ridgeway?" He asked and I shook my head.

"I go to less popular Welton Prep School," I laughed.

"Ouch, how is that like?" We continued our small talk before he said goodbye and left. He was charming and not awful looking.

A tall blonde girl walked over to me with a smile and hugged me.

"Enjoying the party?" She asked, she had a sort of British accent.

"Yes, having a blast," I smiled back.

"I can tell by the look in your face that you're swell," she smiled before leaving.

Meeks then walked up to me with a devastated expression.

"What's wrong?" I asked him and he shrugged.

"Pitts ditched me for some brunette girl," he muttered pouring himself a drink.

I then walked away to find Knox, it was hard to miss him. Tall brunette boy with hazel brown eyes. It was harder to miss when a girl was attached to his lips.

Charlie appeared out of no where next to me, "you'll be okay." That was all he said before bringing me in for a hug.

I was confused at first, why would I not be okay? My best friend and long time crush was just casually Frenching a girl at a high school party.

I pulled away from the hug and looked at him confused.

"Why would I not be okay?" I asked and he looked confused.

"Aren't you in love with him?" He asked and I shook my head. Deny, deny, deny; that's what my dad always told me.

"I'm not, Knox and I are just friends..." Those words hurt me, it hurt to have to say it.

"Oh... then ignore my comment," he shrugged and left.

I felt my heart break, my stomach turned and I felt like throwing up. I walked towards the restroom and did what I had to do.

"Alright in there?" I heard Neil ask.

"Just fantastic Neil!" I shouted. I cleaned myself up before stepping out.

"Too much to drink?" He asked and I shook my head in disgust.

"I wouldn't touch a bottle of alcohol in my life," I told him and he rolled his eyes.

"Was it because you saw Knox Frenching Chris?" He asked.

Chris, so that was the girl he was with.

"No, why does everyone assume I'm in love with Knox?" I asked a bit annoyed. Deny, Deny, Deny.

"Oh, sorry." He mumbled walking away from me. I sat on the couch next to two teens devouring each others face.

The party went by slow as people danced and made out with each other.

Knox sat next to me with a huge smile on his face.

"What's up with you?" I asked him and he just smiled wider.

"I just asked out the prettiest girl... ever," he looked at me. I felt my heart ache as I looked away from him. We have been friends for so long and he's had loads of crushes, why do I feel like this now?

"Good on you Knox," I faked a smile.

"We are going on a date Sunday, we are going to this cafe. She says it has really good smoothies." He rambled on but I zoned out.

After a while we met up at the front, Charlie looked sick and pale. Todd looked like he always does, Neil looked a little too happy. Pitts was no where to be found and Steven was asleep in a couch. Knox had to carry him, we weren't able to find Pitts so we left without him.

We sneaked back inside the school,

"See everyone in the morning," I whispered before running towards my dorm. My roommate was still sound asleep, she looks so peaceful.

I fell asleep a while after hitting the bed. The next morning was a Sunday and I decided to sleep in.

I heard a fast knock, my roommate opened it.

"Knox?" She said which made my heart drop, I remembered everything from last night.

"Is (Y/n) (L/n) awake?" He asked, he knows me too well.

"Well, I assume because of your loud and desperate knock she is awake," she laughed. She walked over to me and shook me slightly.

I opened my eyes, "what?" I mumbled.

"Knox Overstreet is here," she whispered. I closed my eyes before getting up.

"(Y/n) I'm in need of a girls assistance," he sounded eager.

What's going on?" I asked walking towards him, "I should change first."

I closed the door and got into some casual clothes. "Okay, what do you need?"

"Remember when I said I'm going on a date with Chris?" He said and I nodded.

"I want to get her a gift and I need your help to find a perfect one, who knows more about girls then another girl?" He smiled. I rolled my eyes and smiled at him.

"Fine. I'll help you, what's the budget?" We began walking towards the exit/entrance of the school.

"I was thinking anything under $10 or so," he nodded. "Depending though, if it's jewelry then maybe $11." He laughed.

We walked in to town as he described what he wanted to get her. He talked about getting her a book but he wasn't sure what genre she liked. Then he wanted to buy her flowers but didn't want to be cliché and get her roses. He ended up buying her a bracelet.

It was a pretty bracelet, I picked it out. He described her as beautiful as a swan would be and that's what he got. A swan themed charm bracelet. It was under budget which was amazing.

We walked to a bookstore, if I traveled all the way here I would like to get something for myself. We entered the store and I began to browse around.

"I've been wanting to red more Walt Whitman, what do you think?" I asked as I looked over the poetry section.

"Hmm, I like Whitman, he has very nice work," he smiled.

"It's decided, I'll get this Whitman book, an Emily Dickenson one and then I'll get this Alice in Wonderland story." I grabbed the books. He smiled at me and my heart fluttered.

"Knox?" A feminine voice called. He turned and smiled, the smile felt different.

I turned and saw Chris walking up to us, "hi!"

I looked at her and then at Knox, "I should go and pay for these." I turned away to the register.

I paid for the items and headed out, I wasn't sure if I should say goodbye or just go. I decided to just walk back to Welton. I felt sad, I thought a lot about it.

I walked over to Charlie's dorm making sure no one saw me before I knocked.

"Come in!" He shouted and I opened the door and walked in. I sat on his bed, thank goodness that Cameron wasn't here.

Other then Knox I was closest to Charlie. We met when he and Knox became friends.

"What's wrong?" He asked facing me. I burst out in tears, he came over and hugged me.

"I love him Charlie, I'm in love with him," I cried hugging him back.

"I know, if hurts," he rubbed my back as I sobbed harder. I never wanted to admit it, I'm in love with my best friend.

"It hurts to see him with her, the way he looks at her," I sobbed louder hugging him tighter.

"Let it all out," he whispered.

"I wish he liked me not Chris, I'm an idiot for not telling him sooner," I silently cried for what seemed like hours. I laid in his bed after no tears came out.

"We should go get dinner," he whispered once he saw the sun was setting.

"I'm not sure if I'm in the mood to eat.." I mumbled sadly.

"Nonsense, let's go. You can't stay in here anyways if Cameron sees you here he'll report you." He chuckled.

We walked towards the dinning hall, girls and boys were separated, they really didn't want us talking to each other.

I sat by my roommate and her friends. I looked off in the distance.

"Someones in love," I heard the annoying voice of Betty Smith giggle. "I bet it's with Knox Overstreet."

"Isn't he going steady with Chris Noel from Ridgeway?" Another girl asked. They began to gossip about the alleged relationship. I had to suffer through it and eat.

After dinner we walked towards our dorm rooms.

"(Y/n) wait up!" Knox called, I turned to my roommate who waved goodbye and continued her walk.

"How was the date?" I asked.

"It was... alright," he shrugged, "you disappeared on me."

"Oh, yeah. I didn't want to interrupt you two on your date," I faked a laugh and smile.

"I was worried," he mumbled. He looked into my eyes and I looked into his. I looked away and up.

"I should go, you should too. If they see us together I might get into some trouble," I smiled.

"Okay, goodnight..." He said sadly before walking away.

I walked towards my dorm, tears threatening to fall. I quickly put my night wear on and climbed into bed. I hugged my pillow and quietly sobbed.

The next morning was Monday, Knox went on and on about Chris. We sat at the study room, the only room girls and boys were allowed to mix.

"She's really pretty," he sighed dreamily. I rolled my eyes as I attempted to concentrate on my book.

"We get it Knox," Charlie snapped. He angrily closed his book and stormed out.

"What's his deal?" Knox mumbled.

"You've been going on and on about Chris since yesterday Knox, it's getting annoying." Pitts mumbled as he too began to pack his things.

"You guys think?" Knox mumbled sadly.

"We get you're deeply and madly in love with her but come on," Meeks too started packing his things.

"I don't think it's annoying," Todd said, "I think it's nice how much you like her."

I began to pack my stuff and without excusing myself I walked out. I couldn't handle it anymore. I wanted to get over him so badly.

I walked to my dorm, luckily my roommate wasn't there.

I grabbed my canvas, the big one I was working on and destroyed it. I grabbed my sketchbooks and ripped out every painting of Knox I ever made, which was almost all of the paintings. I threw them into a trash bag and began sobbing.

"Idiot," I repeated over and over again. The door opened and in came my roommate.

"Are you okay?" She closed the door and sat next to me. I shook my head and continued to sob.

"Is it because of Knox?" She asked and I nodded.

"I think I like him... like in a romantic way?" I whispered wiping away my tears.

"Yeah, I had my suspicions." She hugged me and I hugged back.

"I want to get over him but I just can't? I want to support him and be there for him but it's hard," I cried.

"You need to rest, it's almost lights out for girls dorm," she whispered.

I nodded and climbed into bed, I didn't bother to change into my night wear. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The week went by as normal, I tried to fake my smile any time Knox talked about Chris.

"Let's go into town on Saturday ?" He asked and I shrugged. That was Friday, it's now Saturday and I was getting ready.

I heard a knock and opened it, I smiled when I saw Knox.

"Ready?" He asked and I nodded. We walked out in mostly silence, it's been a while since it was just Knox and I.

"Where should we go first?" He asked and I thought for a second.

"I could go for a smoothie right now," I smiled. We began walking to a smoothie stand and ordered our drinks.

"Do you think I'm annoying?" He asked out of no where.

"Not at all why?" I answered.

"I feel like we've been growing apart, maybe I'm paranoid?" He mumbled.

"I haven't been feeling that at all," I lied with a smile. He shrugged and we continued our walk.

We stopped at a few shops and got ice cream. We laughed and joke, it felt like we were back to normal.

"Knox!" The familiar voice of Chris shouted. We both turned around. He smiled, but yet again his smile felt different.

I've known Knox almost his entire life and I know a lot about him. But I wasn't able to recognize this smile.

The only other time I saw it was when he talked to Betty Smith in 8th when she came up to us. He used that exact smile, a smile that could be described as annoyed, happy and sad.

"Hey Chris!" He said as she walked up to us. She was out with her friends who stood besides her.

"Hey (Y/n)," she smiled.

"Hi Chris," I smiled back.

"What are you doing in town?" Knox asked. They began to chat with each other, I felt ignored and pushed to the side. If I could I would've started crying right there.

Knox glanced at me and then back at Chris and to her friends.

"We should be on our way," he smiled.

"Oh come join us! We are going to this fancy restaurant a few minutes from here," she smiled.

"I'm not in the mood to eat," I lied. "But you can go Knox."

Knox looked at me and then at Chris, he looked a little sad and confused.

"I'll be fine Knox," I whispered faking my smile.

Knox shrugged and I said goodbye to him, I walked back to the school still trying to hold in my tears. I don't want to third wheel Knox and Chris and I don't want to get in the middle of their blossoming relationship.

I sat at the student lounge when Knox entered the room. He immediately saw me, but it felt different.

"Can we talk?" He asked and I raised an eyebrow but followed him anyways.

We were in an empty hallway, the sun was setting and he looked angry.

"What's wrong?" I asked and he shook his head.

"You're becoming distant, at first I thought I was crazy but you are!" He shouted.

"What?" I stuttered confused. I've never seen him this annoyed.

"Yeah! I kept telling myself that we are just growing up," he shook his head. "But no, it's you. You're pulling away from me!"

"It's not my fault entirely though!" I shouted back.

"We are best friends (Y/n)! I know when you're annoyed and sad!" He looked sad.

"I'm sorry Knox..." I whispered tears threatening to fall.

"Sorry?" He whispered back more calm. I nodded and looked away.

"I— I don't know an easier way to say this..." I mumbled.

"Just say it, we are best friends and I want to help you and it's not easy if you won't tell me whats wrong." He looked at me, I could tell.

"Knox. I like you, I like you a lot and seeing you with Chris hurt me. But We are just friends and I tried to be happy and I wanted to be there for you," I whispered the tears now falling. "I wanted to be happy for you, be excited that you're in love with a really beautiful girl."

The silence overcame us, we stood there looking at each other.

"I know, I know you don't feel the same," I cried. "I just really hope we can still be friends... maybe not best friends hut friends..."

Knox looked at me and nodded. I walked away from him and towards the girls dorms.

•Knox's POV•

I watched her walk away, my heart ached and my body shook. All these years of denying and she finally confesses.

The second I start to try and get over her she confesses to me. I was angry, confused and overall upset by this. I couldn't believe she told me and I stood there like an idiot.

I walked up and towards Neil's dorm where Todd was laying on his bed reading a book. I sat by him in silence. He looked at me confused but didn't say anything.

"I'm an idiot," I whispered to him. "She told me she liked me and I stood there like an idiot."

"Chris?" He asked confused.

"No, (Y/n)... She told me she liked me." He was silent and I was too.

"How do you feel about her?" He asked me and I shrugged.

"I've always liked her, as friends and as more. But she's never shown interest in me until now, or maybe I just never seen it before," I mumbled.

"Well... What do you want to do?" He asked patting my shoulder.

"Honestly? I want to hug her and tell her that I love her too, but I'm afraid?" I looked at him and he looked at me.

"Maybe you should go tell her that you like her too?" He laughed and I shook my head.

"I'm not sure it's a good time right now..." I sighed and got up. "Thanks Todd, I'll see you in the morning."

"Maybe we should call for a meeting tomorrow and you can confess then?" He suggested and I thought about it.

"That doesn't sound like such a bad idea," I smiled at him. "I'll ask Charlie to convince her to go."

I walked over to Charlie's dorm and knocked.

"Knox?" He said surprised once he opened the door.

"I wanted to ask you a favor," I sighed. "Can you convince (Y/n) of going to the meeting tomorrow?"

"There's a meeting tomorrow?" Charlie asked confused.

"Yeah, Todd and I decided it would be a great time to have one!" I exclaimed.

"Oh, alright? What did you do to her that I need to convince her?" Charlie asked but I left, I was too ashamed to tell him.

I fell asleep doubting myself and wishing I could've told her I did like her.

I woke up and realized I had agreed to a date with Chris, I facepalmed and forced myself out of bed. First thing I did was tell Todd who agreed to push it back to when I got back.

I rushed into town and saw Chris standing. I walked up to her and took a deep breath.

"I hope I didn't make you wait too long," I chuckled. She just gave me a smile and we began walking.

"I've been thinking, long and hard about this Knox," she came to a stop and looked into my eyes. "I don't think this is going to work out."

"What?" I said taken aback by this. I was relieved but at the same time shocked.

"I know you like her, (Y/n). The way you look at her and talk about her..." She went quiet. "I know, and I want you to be happy."

"Chris..." I whispered and she brought me in for a hug.

"Invite me to the wedding," she laughed. She walked away from me. I smiled and walked back towards the school.

I knocked on Todd's dorm room where he and Neil waited.

Neil smiled and went to gather the rest of the group.

Me, Todd, Neil, Pitts, Meeks and even Cameron walked towards the cave as Charlie had to go get (Y/n).

It looked cloudy and I groaned.

"Should we post pone the meeting?" Neil asked as he noticed the clouds.

"We are already so far it'll be pointless to go..." Pitts mumbled. We sighed and continued our walk there.

I sat by Todd. "Chris and ai broke things off."

"Oh, how do you feel?" He asked and I shrugged.

"I don't think I ever really liked her in any way other than friendship?" I said confused.

"Well, as long as no one was hurt," he smiled.

We waited for what seemed like forever for Charlie and (Y/n) to come.

We began to worry they weren't going to come.

"We are here!" Charlie shouted as he ran inside. "Took a bit of peer pressure and lots of convincing but here she is!"

(Y/n) entered and rolled her eyes, she went inside and we locked eyes. Her eyes were sad, red and puffy like she's been crying. Her roommate stood next to her.

"Of course she wanted to bring her leech so here she is too." Charlie laughed and sat by Neil.

"Thanks stranger I met an hour ago for that lovely introduction," she sarcastically said before sitting down. (Y/n) sat besides her.

"What even is this?" She asked and the cave went silent.

"A secret society," Charlie muttered.

"We read poetry and discus current world problems and the dread of our parents high expectations." Neil began, he stood up in front of us like he usually does.

"My dad has been pressuring me into joining a military school in Alabama," Neil announced. "I convinced him to let me stay here in Welton if I become Valedictorian and a prefect."

"My grandad wants me to go to University in London where he went," Meeks mumbled. "I don't have a choice.

"My parents gave me an option, they said I either go to Yale and graduate as Valedictorian or I get disowned," Pitts laughed.

It went on like this where everyone shared something that was currently happening to them, good or bad.

I stood up which caught their attention.

"I made a mistake yesterday," I announced. "I indirectly rejected the girl of my dreams."

I looked over to (Y/n) with a smile and she shook her head and walked out. That's when I noticed it was raining.

I ran after her, "(Y/n)!" I shouted as I caught up to her. She turned to face me, she had tears falling from her eyes.

"Stop it Knox! You're playing with my emotions!" She shouted angrily.

"I'm not!" I said back. "I like you I do!"

"Why now? Did Chris reject you? Did she break your heart so you come to me?" She asked hurt.

"No! No! Chris and I were never going to work out!" I said back. The rain was making it hard to see.

She went silent and looked away, I brought her in for a hug. She cried onto my shoulder as she hugged back.

"I've liked you for so long, I just wasn't strong enough to tell you," I whispered.

She broke away from the hug and looked into my eyes.

She looked so beautiful, even if she was wet with rain water. Her eyes beautiful and her hair still amazing. I caressed her cheek and smiled.

"Can I kiss you?" I asked her and she looked away.

My heart began to race, maybe I was moving too quick?

"Yeah, I would like that... a lot." She chuckled and looked in my eyes with a smile.

I leaned down and closed my eyes and she did the same. The rain was still falling as I placed my lips on hers. It was beautiful, her lips were soft and smelled wonderfully. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I wrapped mine around her waist.

We stayed that way, kissing, for a few moments before we heard the leaves crunching.

"Knox?!" I heard someone call.

"(Y/n)!" Another voice yelled. We broke away and rested our foreheads on each others. I smiled and she did the same.

"You look beautiful," I whispered.

"And you look handsome," she whispered back.

"There you guys are!" Charlie ran up to us and smirked. "We got worried you guys weren't coming back."

"We see why now," Neil laughed.

"Are you guys... together?" Meeks asked confused.

"I swear I think we are in different universes from our friends," Pitts whispered to Meeks who nodded.

"We should run back or we'll all die," Charlie laughed and we all began walking back.

The rain began to clear up the closer to the school we got. It's a good thing it wasn't the middle of the night.

"What does this mean?" (Y/n) asked me.

"We are a couple now," I smiled.

"Cool," she smiled and looked away. She's so beautiful when she gets shy.

I can proudly now say that (Y/n) and I are a couple, together. Hopefully this lasts forever.

[helaintoloki]

Everybody Loves Somebody

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: slight language, themes of insecurity, angst, pining, slow burn (kinda?), eventual fluff, over 5k words in length

notes: it’s finally finished! this took forever but I swear I put my entire soul into making this as perfect as it could be. I’ve never used this format before in my writing and it was challenging but also super fun so hopefully you guys like it :) (also yes the title and the fic somewhat is inspired by the Dean Martin song)

summary: Thrown into a blind date against his will, Bucky does his best to prepare in the days leading up to Saturday night, a feat that proves to be much more difficult than expected thanks to his neighbor across the hall.

Sunday

Three quick raps on the apartment door force Bucky to kick back the covers and sluggishly rise from his spot on the floor. He’s exhausted, but his recognition of the evenly spaced knocks on the wooden frame has him feeling compelled to answer, and so he does. Too tired to notice the television is still droning on in the background, Bucky idly wraps his discarded blanket around his form to shield his vibranium arm before opening the door to greet the old man standing on the other side.

“Rough night, huh?” Yori greets with a knowing smile.

“Something like that,” he replies with a tired, lopsided grin. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I set you up on a date,” the man says casually, as if setting Bucky up on dates without his knowledge and against his will is a common every day occurrence, and it is. “Saturday evening at six.”

“What— A date? Yori—“

“She’s a nice girl, very pretty. I think you’ll like her.”

“Now hang on a minute,” Bucky tries to interject, but Yori is already halfway down the hall before the super soldier can get another word in.

“You’re meeting her at the Italian place down the street!” Yori calls behind him. “She likes sunflowers!”

The old man’s shouts are sure to have woken up the entire fourth floor by now, but Bucky is too busy trying to process the jumble of information that has been thrust upon him so suddenly and so early in the morning to care. The last date Yori had sent him on had ended in disaster; Bucky wasn’t ready to get back out on the field, a stable relationship wasn’t in the cards for him. Surely no one in their right mind would stick around once they found out the truth about the man, and if they did it would only be a matter of time before the constant nightmares and extra baggage that came with dating the ex-Hydra assassin sent them running for the hills. But Yori meant well, Bucky knew that, and he also knew he owed the man more than he could ever give him in return, so if sitting through another painfully uncomfortable date would make him happy, then Bucky would just have to suck it up, put on the nicest shirt he owned, and charm his way through another awkward dinner.

“Sunflowers,” he grumbles to himself, quietly shutting the door before returning to his spot on the cold hardwood floor.

Monday

Monday mornings are gym mornings, early workouts that start at five and end at seven. He promptly returns to the apartment building at seven thirty, eight if he stops for breakfast, then goes to check the mail before heading back to the comfort of his sheltered apartment. He doesn’t receive much other than grocery coupons and an odd letter from the government every now and then, but he’s been told that a routine is good, it’s healthy, so on Monday mornings at seven thirty—or eight— Bucky pulls out his keys and opens his assigned metal box with a sense of indifference.

It’s eight o’clock on this particular morning, and with a half finished cup of coffee in hand the soldier opens the little metal compartment to find nothing other than stray specks of dust and the tiniest of spiderwebs in the top right corner of the box. It’s a familiar sight, but Bucky has learned not to let it bother him by now. Remember James, it has nothing to do with you, his therapist always said. You have to learn not to take things personally.

“It has nothing to do with me,” Bucky murmurs quietly before finally shutting his mailbox with a sigh. Coffee cup discarded in the nearby trash can, Bucky turns to make his trek towards the elevator only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of a beautifully familiar face.

Your name is y/n, you live on the fourth floor, and for someone reason you’re always covered in glitter. You’re on your way out the door, art supplies held clumsily in your grasp just begging to jump free from your hold, and despite the rush you seem to be in you still greet the man with a polite smile.

“Good morning,” you chime, honey coated voice filled with warmth and kindness for the stranger. Bucky simply gives you a halfhearted smile in return, watching you walk out the door and wishing he could just muster up the courage to speak to you.

You won the soldier’s heart the day you knocked on his door to drop off a “welcome to the neighborhood” casserole. It had only been his second day in his new apartment, and while he knew some of the other tenants were weary of the mysterious man with the thousand yard stare who had decided to call the building a home, you never once seemed to bat an eye at Bucky or his closed off nature. He had been a little short with you upon your first meeting, his anxiety coming off as annoyance, but still you wore that same kind smile of yours and assured him that if he ever needed anything you’d be happy to help. You were a kind person with a big heart, and Bucky didn’t want to chance snuffing out one of the few lights left in the world, so he let you be. Admiring you from afar was all he let himself have of you, and that was it.

Though, Bucky would be lying if he said you didn’t come across his mind every once in a while. He wondered what you were like, what music you listened to, how you liked your eggs in the morning, if you were an old soul or young at heart, if you’d ever let yourself fall into in the arms of a broken man and help pick up the pieces. It was a pipe dream, but sometimes a friendly smile from you in the morning was enough to get Bucky through an entire day. He hadn’t been with anyone in years, and while he didn’t think he was ready to get back out on the dating scene just yet he knew that if you asked him to he’d take the plunge in a heartbeat. You were an angel, and Bucky would never be able to bring himself to taint you with his touch.

Monday mornings are workout mornings, but they’re also mornings with you.

Tuesday

On Tuesday afternoons Bucky often finds himself in the company of Yori, ensuring the old man stays out of trouble and going out of his way to make sure his newest friend has a nice day out on the town. It isn’t much, and it never will be, but it’s enough for now, at least until Bucky can find the courage to tell the father just what exactly happened to his son on that fateful night. But until then, sushi for lunch will have to do.

He makes his usual trek to the man’s apartment, stomach already beginning to rumble at the prospect of a nice crunch roll, but Bucky’s hunger is soon replaced with nerves at the sight of the woman standing in Yori’s doorway.

You look pretty today, hair haphazardly styled in your rush out the door this morning, colorful stains of dry paint adoring your hands that clutch a bundle of books close to your chest, and a dangly pair of earrings that glint underneath the sunlight pouring through the hallway windows. There’s a smile on your face as you nod along to something Yori says that doesn’t quite register in the soldier’s jumbled thoughts, and the two of you are both too engrossed to notice his lingering presence standing just a few feet away.

“Thank you so much for lending me these. The kids keep me on my toes and I haven’t had any time to settle down with a good book so these were perfect,” you utter gratefully, handing off the pile of poetry books to Yori’s awaiting hands. Names of authors that Bucky doesn’t recognize catch his eye, just as his friend finally catches his presence.

“Of course. I have more if you’re ever interested,” he says before finally addressing the elephant in the hallway. “James, there you are. I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”

Bucky stiffens at the sound of his name, heat immediately crawling up his neck as you turn to him with a friendly smile. Clearing his throat, he steps forward and musters up a meager grin in return.

“Like I’d ever miss Tuesday lunch,” he jokes, a nervous chuckle falling past his lips.

“I guess I better get going. Thank you again, Yori,” you chime with a grateful smile. Then, with your attention turned to Bucky, “Have a nice lunch, James.”

“Thank you...” he trails quietly, mentally kicking himself for his stiff demeanor and wishing he could be less pathetic in your presence just once. Just once and he’d die a happy man.

You leave with a polite smile, turning down the hallway and out of Bucky’s grasp once again. Yori elbows his side.

“She’s single, you know.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Bucky replies with a wry chuckle. “You have me set up with one girl already.”

“Right,” Yori notes thoughtfully with a knowing smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes that Bucky can’t quite decipher. “I think you’re going to have a nice time on your date.”

“We’ll see,” is all he says in reply, your smile the only thing on his mind as the two men head out for the day.

Wednesday

Bucky has grown to love rainy days, days in which he can remain tucked away in the warmth and comfort of his own home with a relaxing mug of hot chocolate in one hand and some piece of pop culture media he has yet to catch up with in the other. Today’s pick is a book titled The Outsiders, and Bucky chooses to sit upon the windowsill to read the novel.

Gentle drops of rain trail down the glass window, pattering soothingly in a way that makes Bucky fear he may fall asleep. He sets the book aside with a tired sigh and glances out the window with his warm cheek pressed against the cool surface; the city is quiet and the streets nearly empty, and this makes it easier to spot you.

It’s almost as if you’ve been popping up out of nowhere lately, but Bucky never seems to mind. Watch from afar, that was the deal he made with himself, so who was he to complain if you made the task easier for him? He could never have you the way he wanted to because he doubted you’d ever want an unstable old man like him, and even if you did he’d be no good for you. He knew girls like you back in his day, girls with stars in their eyes and hearts on their sleeves, girls who’d melt in his arms whenever he so much as smiled at them. And yet you weren’t like any girl he’d ever seen; you were an enigma and he wanted nothing more than to spend all of eternity deciphering the mystery of you. But he couldn’t, because he shouldn’t, so he didn’t.

Despite the gloomy gray skies hanging above you there’s a serene smile on your face as you stop to admire the pots of sunflowers outside the building, reminding Bucky he has to buy some for his date on Saturday. God, he was dreading it. Bucky was sure whatever girl Yori picked for him would be nice enough, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes wish it were you he’d be taking out for a night on the town. A guy can dream, right?

You retreat into a nearby coffee shop when the rain begins to fall harder, and as Bucky turns to his own warm drink he finds that the mug is now cold. Book discarded, he rises from his spot on the windowsill and drowsily drags himself into the kitchen for another cup.

For a moment he thinks sunflowers might surely bring about his demise, and the passing thought brings the smallest of smiles to his face. Only time will tell.

Thursday

“How are you feeling about your date on Saturday?”

The woman stares at him expectantly, pristine notepad resting casually in her lap, pen in hand as a warning, eyebrows raised at the man as he stares down contemplatively at the stitching of his leather gloves. What should be a comforting environment instead only seems to put him on edge, and as the seconds tick by on the clock hung crookedly above the doorway her pen only seems to get closer to the blank page below her. Shoulders sagging, Bucky can only offer a small sigh in response.

“I can’t say I feel too great about it,” he finally says, the tension in his shoulders alleviating slightly as she finally puts the pen down.

“And why’s that?” Doctor Raynor prods curiously.

“I just don’t really think I’m all that ready for a relationship. What person wants to be with someone as screwed up as me?”

“The right person will,” Christina comforts. Your smiling face flashes briefly in his mind in response and he shifts in discomfort— the doctor notices. “But I don’t think you’re telling me the full story here, James. I suspect there’s something else that’s holding you back. Or maybe someone.”

“That obvious, huh?” Bucky retorts with a wry smile.

“Who’s the lucky person?”

“Her name’s y/n,” he says, your name falling past his lips in the softest tone Dr. Raynor has ever heard from him before. “I don’t know her all that well, but she lives in my apartment building so I see her around a lot. She’s... she’s really pretty.”

“Well, what is it about y/n that you like?”

Geez, where do I even begin?

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugs, picking absently at a loose seam on the end of his shirt, “I guess I like how friendly she is. Every time I see her she’s always smiling, she always says good morning to everyone and lends a hand wherever she can. It’s like she goes out of her way to be nice to me, and I’m not really used to that but it’s a nice feeling. The first time I met her she never even flinched, she wasn’t scared like other people usually are, and even when I blew her off she still made it clear that I was welcome and if I needed a friend she’d be there. That’s the kind of person she is.”

“Did you take her up on that offer?” The woman asks, but by the look on her face Bucky is sure she already knows the answer.

“No...”

“James, we’ve talked about this,” Christina says firmly, “you have to stop closing yourself off from the people around you. Making a friend could really help you, especially if this girl is truly as nice as you say she is.”

“She is,” he reiterates firmly, “and that’s why I can’t be her friend.”

The doctor’s brows furrow with piqued interest at his admission, legs shifting underneath her as she gets comfortable in preparation for what will most likely be a heavy confession. “Can you elaborate for me?” She says. Bucky sighs.

“After everything that’s happened, and everything the world has been through, it just gets harder and harder to find some sort of light in the dark. So when you finally do find it, it’s like you have to do everything in your power to make sure it never goes out.”

“So y/n is a light?” Raynor reaffirms.

“For so many people,” Bucky nods, “and if I try to put myself in the picture I’ll only bring her down. There’s no future with me, and she deserves better than that.”

“How do you know that if you never put yourself out there?” The doctor asks softly, silently stunned by the heavy confession Bucky has entrusted her with; it’s the most he’s ever opened up before.

Pieces of the past dart through his mind, and in the midst of all the heartache and the chaos he sees Yori, the one friendship he’s been able to successfully maintain since his period of healing. The memory of the man is pleasant for a moment, until Bucky is reminded of the basis of their friendship and how one single confession will tear down everything they’ve built together. It doesn’t matter what kind of man he is now or how much control he has over his own life, the Winter Soldier will always have the final say, and nothing will ever change that. Finally, he speaks.

“I just do.”

Friday

“Crap.”

The softly uttered curse sounds from across the hallway and alerts Bucky of his struggling neighbor’s presence. Purse slipping off your shoulder and heavy groceries spilling from your arms, you struggle to maneuver your key into the lock of your front door all while the heat of embarrassment engulfs your body in a suffocating hold. You’re not as put together as you usually are, your belongings in disarray and eyes full of exhaustion rivaling that of his own, your usually meticulously picked clothing replaced by joggers and an old college sweatshirt that’s three sizes too big on you, and yet Bucky still finds himself frozen in your presence.

Don’t just stand there, help her you idiot, his mind screams at him, the soldier harshly swallowing down his nerves before taking shaky steps towards you. An orange slips out of the brown paper bag and rolls towards his feet, and Bucky takes it as his in into a conversation.

“Need some help?” He asks with a crooked smile, one that softens at the look of distress clear in your eyes as you meet his gaze.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” you breathe out before offering a meager smile of your own. “Some help would be great, thank you.”

Bucky takes the heavier bags of groceries from your aching arms and returns the orange to its rightful place, allowing you the chance to take your keys and unlock the door. You don’t spare him another glance as you walk in, leaving it open as a silent invitation for him to let himself in. Bucky swallows nervously but wordlessly follows behind; he’s never been in a woman’s apartment before, and the fact that it’s yours makes the experience all the more nerve wracking.

Your apartment is small but personalized, decorated with little knickknacks and houseplants and old family portraits that Bucky does his best not to stare at in fear of being rude, and the vanilla scented candle that burns on the coffee table makes him feel all the more welcome. You drop your purse by the couch with a tired sigh before directing your attention to the man who stands awkwardly in your living room. His hulking figure makes your apartment seem tiny, oddly comforting in a way, but you hold back your giggles and merely guide him to your kitchen.

“You can set them on the counter,” you say with a passive wave before reaching into one of the cabinets for a glass cup. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you,” the man says politely as he settles the heavy bags down on the marble surface; as much as he’d like to sit and spend the evening with you, he can’t stay long, or more like he won’t allow himself to stay long. Your movements are clumsy as you down your glass of water, and Bucky looks away flustered as little droplets begin to escape the corners of your lips and dribble down your neck. “I hope I’m not overstepping by asking this, but are you alright? You seem a bit... flustered.”

“Is it that obvious?” You joke quietly, your smile barely reaching your eyes as you fidget with the sleeves of your sweater.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky begins to say in fear of overstepping, but you merely shake your head in response.

“I’m just a little stressed out. The kids always keep me on my toes, especially now that there’s more of them, and it’s been hard trying to get some of them to readjust.”

“Kids?” He repeats with furrowed brows. He can’t recall ever seeing you with any children, and there’s no sign of any living with you in your apartment. A genuine laugh leaves your lips this time at his response and Bucky tenses uncomfortably. Did he say something wrong?

“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” you explain with a smile, and everything clicks in Bucky’s mind then. That would explain the constant paint stains and trails of glitter left in your wake, the arts and crafts supplies and stacks of drawings you seem to carry with you everywhere. And here he thought your heart couldn’t get any bigger than it already was— were you even real?

“The effects of the blip have been really difficult for them. It’s hard having to come back to school and see that all your old friends are now five grades ahead of you. I know everyone has been impacted in some way by what happened, but it’s harder for the younger ones to understand. I’m doing my best to make the transition back to normalcy easier for them, but some days are harder than others, you know?”

“Sounds rough,” is all Bucky can manage to say, swallowing his emotions back harshly.

“Yeah,” you sigh quietly, rubbing away the clear exhaustion in your eyes, “but I’m trying my best.”

“Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

You smile then, a genuine smile, one that makes Bucky weak in the knees, and suddenly it’s as if all the weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.

“I really needed to hear that,” you utter softly, “thank you.”

“What are neighbors for?” Bucky jokes lamely, but you must like his sense of humor for you let out the quietest of giggles.

“You’re sweet. I like talking with you, but I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you’re a busy guy.”

“Not really,” he shrugs with a crooked smile, “I just had some errands to run before tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” You ask curiously, brows raising with interest as Bucky awkwardly looks down at your hardwood floor.

“I’ve got a date.”

“Huh, no kidding. Me too,” you smile, and in response Bucky’s heart slowly begins to sink to his stomach. Yori had said you were single, but only an idiot would believe that someone like you could stay that way for long. Maybe if he had taken the doctor’s advice sooner he could be the one you’re seeing instead of the lucky guy that beat him to it.

“I should get going... I’ll see you around.”

“Thank you again for the help, and good luck on your date,” you say with an encouraging smile. Bucky swallows harshly in response, a look of longing in his eyes that he hides well with a meager quirk of his lips.

“You too,” he murmurs in response, casting you once last glance before showing himself out. The lock clicks behind him, and Bucky trudges back to his own empty apartment.

Saturday

The dining patio of the Italian restaurant is pleasantly empty, but the quiet stillness does little to help soothe Bucky’s nerves as he waits for the arrival of his date. He probably should have asked Yori what she looked like, what her name was and what she’d be wearing so he’d know what to expect, but the old man had been adamant on keeping the identity of his date a surprise.

“It’ll be better that way,” he had said, “trust me.”

The bouquet of sunflowers sits before him on the table almost tauntingly, their bright colors and sweet scent sending his senses into overdrive. He almost resented them, but then he thought of your smiling face through the window and the tension from his shoulders began to dissipate— if you could be strong and put on a brave face despite all the bad things that had happened in the world, then so could he.

“James?” A meek voice calls quietly, pulling the man from his thoughts. His blue eyes widen in surprise at the sight of the woman standing before him and he swallows anxiously.

“Y/n?” Bucky replies, quickly rising from his seat and cringing at the way in which the legs of the chair scrape harshly across the floor with his sudden movements. Here he thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, and here you were proving him wrong with your cute little outfit and styled hair and charming smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my date,” you explain with a sheepish smile. Bucky deflates— not only would he have to suffer through his own painfully awkward date, but he’d also have to sit and watch you get swept off your feet by someone else all in the same night.

“Oh... well, who’s the lucky guy?”

“That’s the thing,” you say with a nervous laugh, “I think you are.”

“Me?” Bucky repeats flabbergasted. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Yori was the one who said I should try dating again. He thought it would be good for me to spend some time with other adults since I’m always with my students, and when I said I didn’t really know anyone he told me he’d take care of it for me. All he told me was to come to this restaurant Saturday at six and look for the man with sunflowers,” you summarize before gesturing to the bouquet on the table, “and you’re the only one here with sunflowers so...”

A disbelieving laugh leaves Bucky then at the realization, and he isn’t sure whether he should jump for joy or wait for the ground below to swallow him whole. Finally he had a chance to spend time with the girl who had taken over his thoughts and occupied every available space in his heart, and yet he couldn’t help but feel terrified. A date was a big step up from neighborly conversation in your apartment, and all of Bucky’s hopes of developing something more with you were riding on this one date. Yori knew exactly what he was doing by setting the two of you up, and Bucky had no choice but to be grateful for the man who had bestowed upon him the chance to finally win you over.

“If this is too awkward for you we can just skip this whole date—“

“No, it’s not awkward at all,” Bucky is quick to interject. “I mean, this whole thing is certainly a surprise but it’s a good one. It’s an honor to be your blind date.”

He flashes a charming smile that makes you weak in the knees, and he knows then that he’s back in the game— who would have guessed he’d be able to dust off his old moves with such ease? He had to if he wanted any kind of chance at winning you over.

“In that case, why don’t we get out of here? This restaurant is a little stuffy,” you note with a small chuckle, your nerves slowly beginning to dwindle.

“Alright, what do you have in mind?”

The nightlife atmosphere of the plaza square is surprisingly much more comfortable compared to the dining patio, and Bucky considers himself the luckiest man alive to be able to witness firsthand the way your eyes seem to sparkle with the light of the starry sky. A nighttime stroll is right up Bucky’s alley, and you both fall into a comfortable step as you talk about whatever topic seems to come to mind. You speak of your students, about how much their smiling little faces have helped you get through the toughest times, how there’s a stray cat who calls the dumpsters behind your apartment building a home and waits for your arrival on trash days because you always bring the feline a special treat. Alpine, you had named it, and Bucky adored that greatly.

The details are vague but you enjoy the stories he tells you of his childhood and the way his whole face seems to light up at the mere mention of his mother and sister; that look dwindles slightly when he speaks of his old best friend, but you pretend not to notice. As a younger man Bucky worked at the docks before serving time in the army, though he fails to mention where he’d been stationed, and now he works for the government. You feel almost giddy to be learning so much about the man you once believed would rather prefer solitude over your company, and as the night drags on and the conversation begins to dwindle you almost wish you could reverse the clock and do it all over again.

“Thank you,” Bucky says after a moment of silence, prompting you to halt your steps and raise a brow curiously at your counterpart.

"What for?"

“Taking a chance on a guy like me,” he smiles faintly while offering you a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “I haven’t really done anything like this in a while, and the idea of putting myself back out there scared me shitless, but you just make things so much easier. I guess what I’m trying to say is when I’m with you everything comes naturally, and I really appreciate that.”

“Oh,” you utter softly, a sheepish smile of your own gracing your lips as you turn away to admire the scenery around you. It isn’t until now that you notice you’ve stopped before the fountain, the arches of water flowing overhead illuminated by the fluorescent lights below them. A nervous fluttering occupies your stomach and when you finally meet Bucky’s gaze you feel as if nothing else in the entire world mattress other than the two of you in this moment. “Well, if it makes you feel any better I’m kind of in the same boat, so that just means we can figure this out as we go. Together.”

“I like that,” Bucky affirms with a nod, a look that can only be described as lovestruck taking over his features. Nerves overcome you then as you clutch your bouquet of flowers to your chest, heart thrumming rapidly in your rib cage as Bucky steps closer. The glove that had once shielded his right hand from the cold is now missing as he gently cups your cheek and encompasses you with his warmth. His palm is calloused and rough but comforting all the same, and it takes everything in your power not to melt like putty in his grasp.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs quietly as if raising his voice any higher will ruin the moment.

“Yeah,” you breathe shakily, swallowing back your nerves, “it’s okay.”

Your softly uttered words of confirmation are all Bucky needs to hear before dipping down and gently brushing his lips against your own. His movements are hesitant for only a moment, and it is only once he’s sure you are comfortable and secure that he moves in for more. Your lips are soft against his own, plush and warm and so sweet, and as your eyes begin to flutter shut and the forgotten sunflowers slip out of your grasp you drape your arms securely across his shoulders at the same moment in which his left hand joins his right in cupping your face as if you were a precious jewel in need of the upmost care.

Nothing exists when you are in each other’s arms, you are safe and sound in your own little world, and as you part to take a breath Bucky realizes then that one kiss is all he needs to know that you are the one he’s been waiting for all his life.

And by god, if you aren’t more than worth the wait.